Chapter :
"When the truth is replaced by silence, the silence is a lie."
— Yevgeny Yevtushenko
At the mention of the devil the door slammed open.
I bolted upright.
"What the hell is going on here?" came kamir's cold, accusing voice.
"So the rumors are true, are you really sharing the cake around?"
My heart dropped. My breath hitched.
His eyes darted between Yusuf and I—me in my nightwear, him with his arm still lazily resting behind me on the bed.
Kamir had already turned around and started bellowing down the hallway.
" Father! Auntie Mariam! All of you, come upstairs right now! Come and see something for yourselves!"
"Will you keep your voice down!" Yusuf exclaimed walking towards the door, his own agitation rising
"No, no, no," I whispered, standing up in a panic.
"What are you doing?"
But it was too late for caution, as we soon heard footsteps coming both from the stairs below and above. Kamir used her hands to block the doorway, to prevent us from leaving the room, hell bent on preserving his evidence
He was enjoying himself. Kamir's smirk grew darker as the footsteps echoed closer.
Within seconds, the room was full—Aunt Mariam, the minister, two housemaids, and even the old groundskeeper who'd come up the stairs clutching his walking stick. Confusion hung in the air.
And then, kamir spoke.
"I heard," madam maria said, out of breath as she ran to the room. "Is everything okay?"
"What is all this noise about?" bellowed their father, my husband walking up from the other side of the hallway, tying the ropes of his dressing gown after obviously throwing it on in a hurry.
"I caught them red-handed! Red-handed!" Kamir shouted, pointing into the room. "Yusuf was in Zeynep's bed. I caught them."
"You all see it too, don't you?" he said dramatically, as if unveiling a crime scene. "My brother… in bed… with my father's promiscuous wife. Laughing. Touching. God knows what else. Just look at them!"
"ya Allah!" madam maria mumbled, casting a look into the room. Our eyes met, and I saw in her eye disappointment.
"That's not true. Zeynep and I were having a perfectly innocent conversation,"Yusuf protested. "The door was wide open, for crying out loud!"
"Wide open, but you two were all over each other. Don't lie. I saw you. I saw you!"
I just stood there, saying nothing. The hatred I felt for him at that very instant was enough for me to ram his head into the wall with enough viciousness to decapitate him.
"
Murmurs rippled through the room. My face flushed with shame, not because of guilt, but because of how wrong this all looked—and how perfectly kamir had set it up.
"That's not what happened," Yusuf said firmly, stepping in front of me. "We were talking—making peace. That's all. You're deliberately twisting this."
"Oh really?" Kamir sneered. "That's why you were on her bed, with her in her nightdress, with your arm wrapped around her? Please, Yusuf, spare us the poetry."
He turned to the others. "How long has this been going on, Zeynep? Huh? First my father, then Ibrahim , now my brother? Is there any man in this house you haven't tried to seduce? Oh me? I was next?"
"Watch your mouth," Yusuf snapped, his tone darkening.
But Kamir was relentless. "Do you all remember what I said? That she's been trying to tear this family apart from the moment she walked in? Now you've seen it with your own eyes. Hmm? I knew it! I just knew it!" came his shrill voice. "So, you have added Yusuf to your list of conquests! You have completed the trifecta, sleeping with father and sons!"
Tears burned my eyes as I looked at the horrified faces around the room. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
"Enough, kamir!" Yusuf roared suddenly, stepping forward.
"It's not what you think," Yusuf said.
"You're a disgrace!" the minister snarled, his eyes on nobody but me. "Just when I think you can't get any worse!"
And with that, he turned around and stormed upstairs.
Yusuf shoved Kamir out of his way. "You're sick in the head!" Then turning to me, he shook his head. "I'm really sorry, zeynep."
I smiled. "It's okay." And it truly was. I was past the stage of caring what the minister or anyone in that house thought about me. Allah on my side, I only had days remaining before bidding them all a permanent farewell.
"get lost!" Kamir shouted at his brother as he walked away. Then turning to me, he eyed me from head to toe. "Dirty dog! when will have have my turn in the mud??!"
With that he left, leaving just madam maria and I standing there.
"Zeynep, why?" the older woman cried.
"Nothing happened. The door was open, and we were fully clothed!" I exclaimed.
"What was he doing here in the first place? Why were you entertaining him here at this time of night?"
"please, please," I muttered, shutting my door firmly in her face. Much as I hated to shun her that way, I'd had enough of blame and berating to last me a lifetime. I didn't need to add this incident to my long laundry list of things I hadn't done but carried the blame for.
Back in bed, I mulled over what Yusuf and I had discussed and realised I felt so much lighter.
I hadn't realised I had been carrying that guilt with me all this time.
Now that we had finally cleared the air, I felt so much better. I was truly happy for him for finally finding happiness and prayed that someday I, too, would bask in the afterglow of true love.
It made me all the more determined to reconnect with Jacobi after leaving the ranch.
I regretted not taking the phone he'd offered, as hearing his voice that night would have been the perfect salve, the best way to end a very short but eventful day. All I could do was count down till Damien made good on his promise.
That night, I slept like a baby. I wasn't sure if it was the relief that came from reconciling with Yusuf or if it was still the effect of the sleeping pills I'd taken the night before, but whatever it was helped me sleep well for the second time in a row.
Until I heard raised voices.
Looking at my watch, I saw that it was 10 am, meaning I had again slept longer than was normal for me.
The voices were getting louder, and my curiosity made me throw on the first dress my hands could reach, before rushing out of the room to find out what was going on.
Running downstairs, the sound of smashing glass made me realise a fight was going on.
And I was right. At the base of the stairs, I gasped at the sight that met me, Ibrahim and Yusuf on the floor in a vicious scuffle, surrounded by shards of glass from the flower vases that had toppled over during the fracas. Yusuf soon overpowered his brother and was on top of him, punching away angrily.
As Ibrahim struggled, for the very first time, I realised he wasn't as invincible as I'd always thought he was.
He was a 55-year-old man, and age was beginning to tell. I just stood there, frozen to the spot, unable to do or say anything.
The rest of the household continued to scream and shout, but nobody made any attempt to separate them.
Nobody even dared.
Ibrahim was finally able to push his brother off, and he staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth. Yusuf stood, his face also bloodied, and his expensive shirt torn. It was heartbreaking and disgraceful to behold.
"Look at her! I hope you're happy now," Kamir taunted from where he stood, the moment he sighted me. "Two grown men fighting over you. This is what you want, isn't it?"
As realisation hit me, my heart crashed to my feet. Over me? Their fight had been over me?
"You better be warned! The next time I hear you've gone near her, it's your dead body that they will carry back to London," Ibrahim snarled at his brother.
"I'd suggest you heed your own advice!" Yusuf snapped back. "If you touch her, if you ever touch her again, I will break every single bone in your body!"
"What is this? What is all this?" the Minster shouted as he descended the stairs, walking into chaos for the second time in less than twelve hours. "Look at this mess! Look at yourselves! Two grown men fighting like schoolboys in the playground. Over what?"
"Over your dearest wife!" Kamir chirped. "They're fighting over our beautiful step-mother."
The Chief's face clouded. "You are fighting over my wife?? My own wife?"
Ibrahim shook his head and laughed. "Which wife? Look, there's no pretence here. We're not your friends and business associates you put up a show for. Don't stand there acting all self-righteous, as if you have a proper marriage."
The minister turned to his older son, surprised by his outburst. "What are you saying? Are you out of your mind? You stand there and talk back to me? Is it because I have said nothing as you've ravaged my woman almost from the moment she arrived in this house? Is that what has given you the effrontery to speak to me that way?"
Ibrahim chuckled again. "Your woman indeed!"
The minister's nostrils flared in his rising rage. "Look at him. Useless! At your age, your father is still paying your bills and fending for you. Useless waste of space! It took years to undo all the damage you did to the business when you were handling it from india. At my age, I'm still actively involved because the one I'm supposed to hand over to is nothing but a buffoon. All you know how to do is sleep with my wife and beat up small boys. You're a disgrace!"
The room went so silent, a pin drop would have sounded like an explosive.
But it didn't last for long.
Without warning, Ibrahim charged at his father, grabbing the man by the neck and pinning him to the wall, prompting screams from everyone standing around.
"You think I'm Yusuf that you can talk to anyhow? You've forgotten what happened the last time you tried this with me?" he shouted, tightening his grip around the man's neck. "zeynep was mine! I told you about her, I made the deal with her father and you were supposed to get her for me! But you went ahead to get her for yourself!"
Yusuf, the head of security, and Ali rushed to the minister's aid, wrestling Ibrahim off him.
When they succeeded in pulling him off, the minister fell to the floor, coughing and trying to catch his breath. Madam Maria ran to him with a cup of water while the rest of the domestic staff just looked on, stupefied.
"If it wasn't for me, you would be in jail by now. If it weren't for my contacts, you would have long been arrested. Who do you think got the CIA off your tail? Who was it that cleared the coast, enabling you to return home after being on the run for months? Who helped you secure your position as minister for this long?? Yet, you call me useless?" Ibrahim seethed. "You are the useless one! An old man with an exaggerated opinion of himself, carrying small girls all over the place in a desperate bid to feel young. Well, news flash, sleeping with teenagers will not add to your life. Your days are numbered, and you'll be of more use to us dead! Old fool!" he spat as he stormed out of the house.