This place resonated deep within her in a way that she couldn’t explain. A familiar refrain popped into her head: she came from a trailer park in one of the poorest parts of Midwest America and she hadn’t even completed her high school education. She had no right to feel an affinity with this place.
Kat pushed the assertion down. She could recognise how intimidated she’d been before, but of course she had a right to be here—no matter what her background was. If anything, the last eighteen months had shown her where her true strengths lay, and she wasn’t as wide-eyed and naive as she’d once been.
She walked along a path shaded by the overhanging branches of a tree that bore small black fruits like berries. It truly was paradise. She spotted a walled garden ahead, but came to a stop at the entrance when she saw that it was untended and overgrown—in stark contrast to the lush perfection surrounding it.
Something about it called to her, and she stepped inside. She could just make out an empty dry fountain, and beautiful mosaics that were cracked and broken.
She felt as if she was intruding on a private space, and was just turning to go when she heard a noise. She whirled around to see Zafir standing in the entrance to the garden, breathtaking in traditional flowing cream robes.
As soon as she saw the look on his face something clicked in her mind, and she said slowly, ‘This is where she died, isn’t it? Sara...?’
He nodded once, curtly, and stepped inside the garden.
Kat said, ‘I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just passing...’
Zafir came and stood near the overgrown fountain. ‘It’s fine. How were you to know?’
He didn’t look at Kat, and impetuously she asked, ‘Tell me about Sara. What was she like?’
She held her breath for a moment, not sure if Zafir would indulge her, but then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
‘She was beautiful and stubborn and mischievous.’
‘Did she have your eyes?’
Zafir shook his head. ‘No, she had blue eyes—like Salim. Long dark hair. They were inseparable like I told you, from the moment they were born. Like a little unit.’
‘What about you?’
Zafir shrugged minutely. ‘They didn’t need me. They had each other.’
Kat didn’t know what to say to that. She was blindsided by an image of a young Zafir, always on the outside of his siblings’ intense bond, and how lonely that must have been.
‘I can’t believe your parents weren’t affected when Sara died. They couldn’t have been so cruel.’
Zafir turned around then, and the cold look on his face made Kat suck in a breath.
‘Yes, they could and they were. Don’t you remember meeting them?’
Of course she did. She’d met them on her first visit and endured an excruciating lunch during which they’d spoken their own language and made no attempt to speak with her, directing all their conversation to Zafir. They’d clearly deemed the prospect of her becoming a daughter-in-law a total travesty.
Zafir shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you still retain such optimism about people when your own mother exploited you so shamelessly.’
Kat’s face grew hot. She felt like that naive virgin all over again. Mocked by Zafir’s deep well of cynicism.
She lifted up her chin. ‘I’d prefer to be optimistic about people rather than believe there’s no hope for love or redemption. You’re not your brother, Zafir. Or your parents.’
Suddenly acutely aware of the small space, and its air of general decay, Kat felt claustrophobic.
She started to walk out, but Zafir caught her by the arm. ‘Where are you going?’
She looked at him, and hated the ease with which he could strike at her very heart. ‘Back to my room.’
‘I’ve arranged dinner for us in my private suite.’
Zafir’s hand was warm on her arm, and it made her think of how it would feel on other parts of her body. It would be so easy just to say yes—to go with Zafir to his suite and let the inevitable happen. Her blood grew hot just from thinking about it. But she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to walk away relatively intact when all this was over.
She pulled her arm free. ‘No, Zafir. I’m tired an