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I take in the wide office with its tall windows, the dark mahogany desk, the black sofas in the corner and the black and white abstract prints on the walls and smile for the first time since I’ve landed. Yes, this could have been my work haven. It fits my taste and personality exactly.
Walking up to the desk, I lift a framed photograph of Aaliya and Rian from when he was very little. I place it back and turn to face Aaliya and Gabe.
They both share a worried glance and take a chair in front of my desk, waiting for me to speak. I finally take a seat behind my desk and settle in the comfortable chair, looking around the room that feels foreign and unfamiliar.
The urge to press my hand against my head to soothe the pain is immense. My headache refuses to go away, especially after I’ve been pushing myself to remember, but I don’t give into the urge. Aaliya will start cosseting me the moment she sees that action and the last thing I need is for her to do that.
So, I raise my chin, willing myself to ignore my discomfort, and face two of the most important people of my life, who are both watching me carefully.
My silence has been unnerving for Aaliya. I know because she’s been fidgeting with the strap of her purse since when. But all this—coming to India, walking into my house, one which I have zero recollection of, then meeting Aaliya’s parents, who despite me having spoken to them over the phone from London still looked like strangers to me—is a lot to deal with at one time. Added to that was the dream I had of Celia, and now meeting all these nameless unrecognizable faces of people who work for me and several who seem to know me well, all of it has been hugely unsettling. And I don’t even want to think about this lingering headache that’s made me majorly irritable and annoyed.
It was one thing to accept I had a severe memory loss while living in London—in the world I was born in, in a world I was already accustomed to. But it is an entirely another ball game to be in a mind boggling, utterly staggering and fiercely populated city like Mumbai and to come to terms with the fact that this was my life for five years.
It’s just too fucking hard and I can’t tell Aaliya that and add to all her woes and concerns about me—at least not while she’s still mentally and physically recuperating from the effects of her shooting ordeal.
So, I suck in a breath and try and pretend everything is fine with me.
“How was Singapore?” I ask Gabe, getting into work mode. That is the one thing at least I know I am in control of. “Let’s discuss the problem there. You messaged that you wanted to talk about something.”
Aaliya leans forward in her chair. “What’s happening? Why don’t I know about this?”
Gabe throws me a beleaguered look for putting him in the spot twice already now—the first when I didn’t inform Aaliya that he was going to be here and now again.
So, I address Aaliya first. “Sorry, I’ve just got too much on my mind and I forgot to tell you.”
I turn to Gabe. “Go on, tell us what’s wrong with the Singapore branch.”
“Well,” Gabe begins, alternating his gaze between Aaliya and me, “Zara has quit.”
Aaliya’s brow wrinkles. “Zara quit? Why?” Then she narrows her gaze at Gabe. “I’ve been in touch with her all these months and she never indicated that she was unhappy in any way. What did you do, Gabe?”
He throws his hands in the air and scowls. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, right,” Aaliya shoots back, “Why can’t you just get along with her? She’s great.”
“Hang on, who is Zara?” I ask them both.
“Gabe’s nemesis,” Aaliya scoffs and Gabe rolls his eyes looking flustered.
“She is not my...my nemesis,” Gabe scorns. “She just has a strong mind, which gets in the way of good business. Anyway,” he addresses me, “Zara Somji is an Indian woman based out of Singapore. She’s a fabulous designer and we took over her firm when we opened Alpha Arch in Singapore. She didn’t have the money to grow big and we wanted to partner with someone who had expertise in the South Asian market. Besides, she was tired of handling the commercial aspect of the business and wanted to spend more time on designing than money matters. So, we fit together very well, until now...”
“And now?” I question.
“And now, she wants more responsibility. She wants to expand her design interests and thinks she can run the Singapore branch on her own, without interference from me.”
Before I can respond, Aaliya cuts in, “I’ll talk to her and find out what’s going on with her. I’ll convince her to stay back.”
“You can try; I doubt you’ll get through to her though,” Gabe puts in. “She’s stubborn as a mule.”
“We’ll see,” Aaliya responds with a smirk.
“Anyway,” Gabe continues, “Now that you both are here, let me update you on the ongoing projects.”
And so, the three of us spend the next few hours working and I allow myself to forget my worries for a short time.
