Novels by _najeeb.i

I was fully prepared for the uproar that the divorce would create. I prepared myself for the shitstorm that was headed my way, and I thought I would have it all figured out. But all of that changed the moment the news got out. Suddenly, I was being hounded by paparazzi everywhere I went. I thought it was stressful before, but that was when I was always being followed by the Reynard security personnel. With that layer of security gone, I was left standing naked against the storm, as a hurricane blew through and ripped me apart. And I had to somehow find a way to survive the sea of questions they hurled at me. “WHAT WAS THE REASON FOR YOUR DIVORCE WITH MARCUS?”“ARE YOU PLANNING TO SUE REYNARD TECH AS WELL?”“DID MARCUS CHEAT ON YOU?”“HAVE YOU SEEN MARCUS RECENTLY?”I wished I could just stand there and answer all their questions. I wished I could stand there and give them all the details they needed, and tell them about how heartbroken I was when I found out he was cheating on me.

Ciara Walters looked like she belonged on a runway that in a courtroom. She was absolutely stunning, her dark skin and luscious, jet-black hair making her look more like a wealthy heiress than a cutthroat lawyer. She was wearing a navy blue suit, and her Louboutin heels dangled off her feet as she sat across from David and me. Her piercing green eyes settled on me, and I felt small and insignificant in front of her as she stared into my soul. "So, let me get this straight," she said in a crisp English accent. "You want me to take on what could turn out to be the biggest and messiest divorce case in the country, without even getting paid?""A settlement can be agreed afterwards," David said. "You owe me, Walters. Don’t forget that."She glared at him as he said this, and something about the way she looked at him made me feel uneasy. But I knew David wasn’t that kind of man. He would never cheat on Brenda. No matter how hot Ciara Walters might be. “Well I’ll be damned,” Ciara chuckle

"Thank you for seeing me, David," I said, sliding into the seat across from him. Even though the cafe was crowded, we'd managed to get a table at the far end of the floor, so we were secluded from everyone else. David leaned back and raked his fingers through his hair. There were more grey hairs on his hair than last time I'd seen him, and he was starting to grow a stubble. David was a buff guy, but not so muscular that he would seem off putting. He looked like he came from old money, with his expensive suits and flashy Rolex watches. "I'm not gonna lie, Liv," he said, sitting up straight. "This is going to be messy. Like Rebels versus the Empire messy. I've known Marcus for over two decades now, and he's going to come for you with everything he's got.""So I've been told," I said. "That's why I came to you. You're the best at what you do. And if there's anyone who can make sure I don't get screwed over, it's going to be you."Maybe I was stroking his ego a little bit, but I had to

"I'm sorry, Mrs Reynard, but it appears that your bank account has been frozen.""I'm sorry, what?" I stood in the doorway and stared at Mr Wallace in confusion as he handed me back the cheque I'd issued him just this morning. I'd managed to get a small apartment in the village, and the owner almost fell over his feet when I arrived here last night, looking for a place to stay. He recognised me immediately as Marcus Reynard's wife, and he couldn't wait to give me the apartment. In hindsight, maybe I should have gone for a hotel. But I didn't want to go anywhere that would attract too much attention. And almost every hotel in Manhattan knew exactly who I was. A small, modest apartment should have been the best option. But somehow, Marcus had frozen my account already. "I'm so sorry," Mr Wallace said, almost as if he was ashamed to even look up at me. "Surely there must have been some kind of mistake."I nodded absentmindedly as a hollow feeling settled in my chest. Marcus. This had h

MARCUS"Carlos!" I yelled as soon as I woke up, groaning when the pounding in my head continued. "Get me some fucking aspirin! Now!"The room was too bright, and I pressed the button to shut the curtains before I rolled over and pulled the sheets over my head. Thank goodness today was a Sunday, and I didn't have to go into the office. My head was pounding, like a herd of elephants were desperately trying to stampede their way out of my skull.Maybe I shouldn't have had so much to drink. But last night was a cause for celebration, and I wasn't going to waste such an opportunity. After four years of misery, I was finally free. And I'd celebrated by fucking Emily's brains out four times, one for each miserable year of my marriage. I half-opened my eyes and saw that the bed was empty, which brought a smile to my face. She was truly gone, and I was free. No more worrying about what she was going to say or do. No more stressing out over the fact that my marriage wasn't as perfect as I wan

As soon as I got back home, I started to pack my things. I forced myself not to cry, focusing instead on the task at hand. The image of Marcus and Emily was burned into my memory, and I knew that I would remember it for the rest of my life. But I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. They could jump off a fucking bridge for all I cared. After spending so long wondering what exactly I had done to deserve this cruelty from my husband, it was satisfying to finally have an answer. He was more interested in fucking my best friend than fixing our marriage. I could picture the two of them right now, and even the thought of it made me want to sink to the floor and cry until my tears dried up. I couldn't bear to think about what happened, or the sad reality of what my life was about to become. I didn't know what I was going to do now, but I sure as hell wasn't going to stay in this house. For so long, it had felt more like a prison than anything else. I had no memori

*The drive to the beach took longer than any of them had anticipated. The weather was dry, with the heat rising to a dangerous level. Twice, they had to stop to fix a punctured tyre. "Are we there yet?" "Just a little further," he replied, wading through the traffic. "It won't be long now."They had left his uncle's house early that morning, with a picnic basket which they filled along the way. They had hoped to beat the traffic by leaving early, but even so they only managed to cover eighteen miles in an hour. By the time they finally reached the beach, it was a few minutes past noon. The sun was high up in the sky, and their shadows had disappeared underneath them. There was a small crowd gathered on the sand, which surprised him as it was a weekday. "Come," he said to her, offering his right hand while he took the basket in the other. "I know the perfect spot for us."He led her away from the crowd, keeping his hold on her tightly. He recognized the group as students from the

* Azra was a bright-eyed, polite, little eleven year old who couldn't meet anyone's eyes when she was brought to the house by Adnan. Afrah, who had been discharged three days prior, watched from her window as he drove into the house with the little girl sitting beside him. Looking at him, she still didn't know what exactly she felt. Of course she still despised what he'd done, but she didn't necessarily hate Adnan himself. Forgiving him was hard. It was probably the hardest thing she would ever learn to do. But it would be worth it if they would learn to live happily for the rest of their lives. Azra's mother had been much too happy to let her go. They had been struggling to provide for the little girl with her new husband, who was significantly less-wealthy than Adnan. Layla knew the girl would have a better future with her biological father. When she got the call from Adnan, a part of her wanted to hang up on him. But since it concerned his daughter, she'd listened to his plea a

*Carpets and curtains. She dreamt of them both, not as separate entities, but as one. Throughout her existence, Afrah had been surrounded by carpets and curtains, each lending its own unique addition to the story of her life. They were always silent, never considered but ever present. She recalled the carpets in her bedroom, how soft and flat it was. Twice a year, the carpets would be taken out so they could be washed and returned. The curtains were washed every month, and Afrah remembered sitting in the middle of her room one time when both carpets and curtains were removed, and she simply stared at the barrenness of her room. Strange how something as insignificant as carpets and curtains could change the entire appearance of her bedroom. She recalled the carpets in her father's room, the plush cream color stretching from wall to wall. His curtains were white, which she remembered complaining to her mother about once. "Why can't I have white curtains as well?" she'd asked. "Bec

*Afrah didn't know she was capable of doing it until she'd done it. Spontaneous action was never her area of expertise, knowing fully well that she was more of a reactive person than a proactive one. But the sight of Fahad falling to the floor jolted her to action. It was like a spark had awakened in her, grinding the gears in her brain. She began by lunging for the gun. Yusuf wasn't expecting her to move. Neither did he hear her move, since the carpet muffled her footsteps. He was still pointing the gun at Fahad's twitching corpse when Afrah's hands suddenly wrapped around the gun and yanked it out of his hands. He staggered back, bewildered by her action. And then she brought the gun to his chest, looking him dead in the eye. Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Neither he nor she dared to move. Between them was their hateful glare, separated by the barrel of the gun. His breathing was calm, while hers was irregular, coming in short bursts. In that moment, their roles were rev

*Every movement caused Afrah to jump; every second his eyes spent watching her made her skin crawl. She didn't sit. Instead she remained where she was standing, her arms folded in front of her. Yusuf meanwhile had leaned back into the seat, sighing comfortably. "What would you like to have?" he asked nonchalantly. "Some water, perhaps? I have some orange juice which still happens to be fresh. Or would you prefer a coke? I have some wine as well, but then knowing how close you and Adnan are, I'm sure he's taught you to stray away from fine wine. So, which would you prefer to have?""I would like to have my daughter back," Afrah replied. Yusuf studied her for a few seconds before he chuckled. "Of course," he said. "It's why you're here, is it not? As for me, I'd like a Bloody Mary."He stood up then, stretched with a slight groan before he left the room. Afrah remained where she was, awkwardly staring at the stained walls with nothing but a single wall clock hanging on them. She tho

*"I remember it like it was yesterday," Halima said. "And I know how cliché that sounds, but it really does feel like yesterday even though it was almost thirty years ago."Adnan tilted his head to the side, trying to detect a hint of deception in her words. "I was a little girl, so foolish and ignorant. I guess I've always been like that. But we can say that my ignorance and foolishness were somewhat exaggerated at that point in my life. Before I tell you how it happened however, I think you should understand the beginning of it all. I believe I was on my way to my uncle's house that day. I'm sure your father told you all about the village we grew up in.""Bakura," he replied indifferently. "Yes," Halima replied, twisting her hands. "It's a small settlement, and we grew up so close that everyone knew the name of everyone else. It was so small that it was impossible to leave home without everyone being able to give a detailed account of where you went. Your paternal grandfather and