"The heart's greatest rebellion is loving in captivity—but every act of defiance has its price."
Unknown
Chapter 53
I remained in the dining room as madam maria i went to let him in, my ears straining to catch their conversation. My heart pounded with nervous excitement. It didn't even matter that, dressed in one of my older native dresses, I wasn't looking my best. Jacobi had seen me at my worst and had fallen in love with me anyway.
I was too ecstatic—not just about seeing him again, but about being one step closer to escaping this place.
"It's Doctor Jacobi," madam maria announced, returning. "He said he has an appointment with the minister. Please, go and sit with him while I call your husband. Knowing how long it takes the minister to get ready these days, he might have to wait a while."
I nodded, trying to act composed, even though my insides churned with anticipation. Rising to my feet, I walked to the living room with measured grace. "Good morning, Doctor."
Jacobi, who had been studying the wall portraits, turned around with a warm smile. "zeynep!"
I blinked fiercely, silently urging him not to act too familiar. I never knew who the spies were in this house, and we couldn't take any chances… not after coming this far.
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he nodded. "Good morning, Mrs. Omar. How are you feeling today?"
I smiled in spite of myself, amused by his forced formality. "Very well, thank you. I can't complain."
"I hope everything has been fine since you left the hospital."
I nodded, understanding what he was really asking. "Everything has been fine, Doctor."
He turned back to the life-size paintings that dominated the walls. "These are very nice. The minister must have spent a fortune on them."
I shrugged. "Al-Isrāf," I muttered under my breath, knowing Jacobi would understand my reference to extravagance. The paintings were just another way for the minister to display his wealth, his ego.
Portraits loomed of the minister himself, his late wife, Ibrahim and his wife, Yusuf, wahab, and more recently, me. I had been both surprised and reluctant when the minister insisted on getting my portrait done.
He had to answer one too many questions from his associates about why his current wife's picture was missing from the collection.
In the end, I had obliged, posing stiffly for the artist, unsmiling. The result was a regal yet lifeless depiction of me—draped in a emerald green, off-the-shoulder dress, my neck adorned with a thick gold choker studded with diamonds and rubies, my hair in a loose chignon, and my lips painted the a scarlet shade of red .
"It's beautiful," Naeto remarked. "But your eyes…"
I swallowed hard. "They look sad, don't they?"
He nodded. "Like your predecessor's."
I knew then that he saw everything—the gilded cage, the suffocating power of the minister's presence.
Our hands grazed as we stood there, side by side, looking up at my portrait. It was a small, fleeting touch, but it sent a silent message between us:
nothing had changed.
"I saw your garden as I walked in," he said after a pause. "It's just as beautiful as you said it is."
I sighed. "Jannat ke ek chhoti si jhalak thi woh." It was once a glimpse of paradise. "But they didn't take care of it in my absence, so I'm trying to revive it."
"I'll stop by it on my way out," he said, looking at me.
I met his gaze and smiled, understanding the hidden message. "That would be nice."
Just then, madam Maria walked in. "Doctor, the minister will see you now."
He nodded, casting me one last glance before following her out of the room. The older woman cast a curious look at me, but I made sure not to meet her eyes.
When they disappeared up the stairs, I slipped out to my garden. Dusting off the small stool, I sat down to wait. I was too nervous to tend to my flowers, too restless to find comfort in their fragrance.
And after exactly fifty-seven minutes, he came.
"Hello, beautiful," Jacobi said, sitting next to me on the bench. "I was worried you wouldn't be here."
"I would have waited the whole day if I had to," I whispered.
He leaned in and kissed me, soft and lingering. Alhamdulillah for these hedges, for the privacy they provided.
"I've missed you, zeynep."
"You weren't in the mosque yesterday. I was looking forward to seeing you there."
"There was an emergency at the hospital," he answered, adding with a small smile. "Trust me, you weren't looking forward to it as much as I was."
I rested my head against his shoulder. "I'm desperate to leave this place. The minister has banned me from leaving the compound unaccompanied."
"I heard that," he admitted. "One of the nurses told me something about you screaming and banging the gate." His expression turned grim. "Hearing that made me realize we have to fast-track our plans."
"What do you have in mind?" I asked eagerly.
"I'm finalizing a few things. I should have more clarity in a couple of days," he said, pulling a small phone from his pocket. "In the meantime, hold on to this. It has almost driven me crazy not being able to speak with you."
My heart raced as I quickly tucked it into the oversized pocket of my dress. The last time a lover gave me a phone, it ended in disaster. This time, I would be careful.
"You can also listen to our song on it," jacobi added with a playful smile. "I programmed it for you."
I gasped in delight. If there was one thing that could fill the lonely nights until our escape, it was Whitney Huston.
Jacobi chuckled. "I love it when you laugh."
A slow, taunting clap interrupted us.
"Bohut khoobsoorat." Beautiful.
I froze. That voice. The one voice I hated most.
Ibrahim.
I turned slowly, my breath catching in my throat. He stood at the entrance of the garden, his expression unreadable, but his eyes dark with amusement.
"the minister sent me to check on you," he drawled. "But what do I find? Our sweet, obedient zeynep sneaking around like a Bollywood heroine."
I swallowed, my mind racing for an escape.
Jacobi tensed beside me. "I was just about to leave."
Ibrahim's smirk deepened. "Yes, yes, run along, Doctor. But Zeynep…" He turned his full attention to me, his eyes glinting. "You and I need to have a little chat."
Jacobi looked at me, hesitation flickering in his gaze.
"Go," I whispered.
He clenched his jaw but rose to his feet. With one last glance, he left.
The moment he was gone, Ibrahim leaned in. "Tell me, begum," he murmured mockingly, "does my father know about this little love story of yours?"
"He was just checking up on me as one of his patients."
I refused to let my fear show. "You have no proof of anything,
His smile widened. "Not yet."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
He chuckled, patting my cheek mockingly. "See you at dinner, dear bhabhi." Sister-in-law.
Then, whistling, he strolled away, leaving me paralyzed with fear.
Ya Allah, ab kya hoga? What will happen now?