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in
    distress.
    Then, like a good friend, she’d told him about Rutaba, crying for him while doing so. He’d been
    devastated. After the horrible accident that killed Rutaba, who else could he turn to in his pain but
    her? She had given him all the comfort he needed.
    She smiled as she remembered those few months after that when Hussain hadn’t known what to do,
    or what had struck his perfect life and driven it straight into chaos. To her shock and anger, he’d
    extricated himself out of their affair too soon, and made his business his entire life.
    Nudrat was determined to get him back and the little sparrow would be old news soon enough.

    * * *

    Hussain was not at all happy.
    He did not want to attend weddings and be a part of a life he had left far behind. He’d created a
    comfortable set-up that worked for him and his family, but his mother was determined to play fairy
    godmother to Shahira’s Cinderella. Only, his mother hadn’t got the memo about Shahira actually being
    the wicked witch.
    Almost at once, he admitted to himself that he was being unfair to her. She was extremely good to
    both the people he’d hired her to take care of. She just rubbed him the wrong way.
    Deciding that he wasn’t going to stay out of his own house just because of an employee, he elected
    to come home for the blasted wedding his mother was insisting he attend. And she was nothing more
    than that. An employee, whom he could and would ignore, no matter how attractive or intriguing she
    may be.
    Impulsively, he flew back without informing them, thinking to surprise Natasha. As he got closer to
    his home, he saw it was lit with fairy lights with a marquee set up on the lawn. What was going on?
    He could hear loud music, laughter, children—he hadn’t seen this kind of family gathering in ages.
    He entered the marquee from the back, trying not to create the commotion he knew his arrival was
    sure to cause. A group of girls and boys were dancing and he smiled. Some things never changed.
    Nostalgically, he recalled his own flirtations with girls he’d danced with in his youth.
    He caught a glimpse of Natasha amongst the dancers. She looked thrilled. He laughed to himself,
    seeing the open pleasure on her face. He caught a glimpse of the slim girl she was dancing with and
    realized it was none other than his dear judgmental wife, or employee, if one wanted to be technical.
    She was light on her feet, a natural, moving effortlessly. A smile played on her lips and…had her
    hair been this long? His eyes roved over her body. He didn’t remember her looking this delectable.
    People started to notice him, and stopped him to greet him. He chatted with easy familiarity to people
    he hadn’t seen in ages. It seemed that the years vanished as they talked, bridging time. This was
    family, and he realized with a pang that he’d missed out on a lot with his self-imposed exile.
    All the while, he was moving forward, his eyes kept homing in on Shahira. He still couldn’t
    believe it was her. There she was, laughing, holding hands with a young man who was grinning from
    ear to ear and couldn’t take his eyes off her. He understood then why he hadn’t recognized her at first.
    It was because she was happy and relaxed and flirting. All he’d seen of her was her stiff upper lip,
    self-righteous mode.
    He stopped to talk again with another relative, firmly averting his gaze from the dance floor.
    “Hussain!” he heard his mother exclaim excitedly as she spotted him.
    He ambled over to her and hugged her. It just so happened that she was right in front of the dance
    floor, probably so that she could watch her beloved Shahira dance. His mother’s yell had been loud
    and now he was standing right in front of the dance floor. But did that stop Shahira from spinning
    around? Not at all. The schoolteacher paid absolutely no attention to him and was busy keeping in
    step with…was that Ali Shahid’s son? How time flies, he thought bemused. Ali had