After a massively good cry that destroyed her satin pillow with watery mascara stains, Annika’s eyes landed on an upper shelf of her partially opened closet. A red and black covered book lay there with a thin layer of dust.
It was a book she had stuck up there months ago—given to her by her best friend, Scarlett. She had promised to read it, but never had a chance. (To tell the truth, she never intended to and had decided she would donate it to the library at some point.)
She dragged herself off of the bed and grabbed the book, carefully wiping off the dust. It was an old copy of the classic, Gone With the Wind. She knew this was Scarlett’s favorite book and that she was named after the heroine, but Scarlett had mentioned a few times with a sly smile that Annika was more like the heroine than she ever was.
Why?
She had taken it as a compliment at the time because she knew that main character was supposed to be beautiful, but now she wondered if that was all there was to it. Maybe it was time to stop trying to convince people of who she was when she didn’t really know herself. Perhaps this book would help her understand.
She made herself some green tea, washed off the rest of her make-up, and settled into the bed with the book.
And then she read the whole damn thing.
It took her most of the night, and she was tired, but she couldn’t put it down. It was six in the morning when she finally turned to the last page expecting that Rhett Butler would realize his burning, enduring love for Scarlett O’Hara; they would embrace, kiss, and all the stupid, foolish things she did and said wouldn’t matter.
But that’s not how it ended.
Not at all.
Tired of all her prideful, selfish games, Rhett left her. It didn’t matter how beautiful, charming or how small her waist was.
Annika stared up at the ceiling absorbing the tragic ending, her face tense with thought. She was more like Scarlett than her friend ever was. Now Kiran was gonna leave her just like Rhett.
She grabbed her cell phone called Kiran again.
No answer.
She looked down at her engagement ring and decided it should be returned to him. If they were breaking up, she would do it the right way this time.
She slipped the large diamond off her finger and put it in the bedside table drawer.
Then she got ready for her last day court.
That afternoon, Annika ambled into the courtroom for closing remarks. Afterward, the jury would convene and decide on a verdict. Her lawyer had delayed resting their case because he held out hope her fiancé or someone in her family would show up to testify for the defense.
She knew better. As expected, no one was there for her.
Annika had wanted to look her best today, but she knew there was dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, and her clothes were picked out in haste—she wasn’t even sure the shade of violet in her blouse matched her long pencil skirt or not. As she sat down in her chair at the defense’s desk, she noticed her fingernail polish in light blush was chipped. She ran a finger under her eye and examined it. Yep, smudged mascara.
In short, she was falling apart and looked like it.
“Good morning, Miss Bashir,” her attorney, Mr. Paulson, offered. Then he noticed her less-than-perfect appearance. “Are you alright?”
“We’re about to lose this lawsuit. Everyone thinks I’m a gold-digging whore including my family. And my fiancé dumped me. And…” She stifled a sob. “And I learned last night that the protagonist in a book my best friend said I reminded her of is a manipulative wretch.”
“So your fiancé isn’t coming then?” he asked, ignoring the rest of her emotional rant.
“No. Turns out I misread him…” She glanced over at Kareem taking a seat on the plaintiff’s side, his face smug. “…like I misread everyone apparently.”
Her attorney shook his head and sighed. “Miss Bashir, I told you that the odds are not in your favor if we can’t get him here. The jury needs to understand that you didn’t just trade up in the husband department, but that you actually fell in love therefore justified in breaking up the engagement.”
“And I should have been satisfied that I, alone, understood that part, but I wasn’t. I needed the whole world to know it too. Now look at where I am.”
“We could have settled. Please recall that I recommended it.” He was irritated now, his face turning red.
Annika patted his hand and offered a sympathetic smile. “I take complete responsibility for everything. You’ve done a great job, Mr. Paulson. Thank you.”
He examined her like he was surprised to notice something in her that he had missed before—something quite nice and authentic and real.
She couldn’t remember when someone had last looked at her like that, without agenda, without ogling her beauty or responding to some undercurrent of sexual attraction that always seemed to be present with members of the opposite sex.
Maybe, she thought, this is what it means to grow up.
All the way.
When the judge entered the courtroom and asked if there were any more witnesses for the defense, Annika couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere but down at the table. She wouldn’t give Kareem the satisfaction of watching her desperately turn toward the door and then see her face fall when no one came through.
Her attorney stood up. “No, your honor, the defense…”
But he was interrupted by a voice at the back of courtroom. “Wait—I’m here to testify.” It was rushed and strained, like he just sprinted three blocks to get there.
It was familiar.
Still, Annika didn’t dare look. She froze in her seat as the judge and lawyer sorted it out.
“Is this a witness for the defense?” the judge asked.
“Yes, your honor. It appears we have one witness left.”
“Come forward, state your name and the court will swear you in,” the judge directed the new witness at the back of the room.
Annika still wouldn’t turn around.
“Yes, thank you. My apologies to the court for arriving late,” was the response in a deep, smooth, British-accented voice.
She heard his strong footfall on the cold granite floors get closer, and then she caught the faint whiff of spicy cologne that reminded her of sultry Indian sunsets on the beach.
Her eyes stayed on the desk as he passed; she was too afraid to look up. Was he there to bury her? Testify to her idiocy and selfishness? Explain to the jury that he regretted getting involved with such a self-absorbed, prideful woman?
A single pink lotus flower landed near her hand. Her heart leaped.
She looked up to see the man she loves take the stand to testify on her behalf, his dark eyes never wavering from hers for a moment.
Then he sat down and her lawyer began his questioning. “Mr. Patil, please tell the court how you know Miss Bashir.”
Kiran winked at Annika, confident, strong, as if this were nothing but a minor inconvenience. “I’d be happy to.”