He watched her as she massaged her bare legs with oil in the seat across from him. She wasn’t slow and gentle, but she wasn’t fast and rough either. She touched her skin with some care, but not enough in his opinion. Regardless, she was focused.
There was something about the sight that excited him slightly. It might’ve been her carmine robe that ended above her knees, or her long black tresses of wet hair that had already begun to dry, or simply her porcelain skin glistening in the morning sun. Either way, with each passing second, the feeling grew stronger. And then, just when he was about to rise from his seat, he felt the table vibrate while both of them heard the ring. On his phone, which was coincidentally placed closer to her than him, appeared the name “Sehrish.” She picked up the phone, examining it for a second before handing it to him.
“Hello... I’m fine... Why, what is he saying... Ok...”
He spoke for a minute or two, but no more, never more. After the call ended, he put down the phone and resumed looking at her as though he had received no call at all.
“Did you always have that robe,” he asked.
“No,” she replied, indifferently.
“I like the color. It brings out your pink lips and dark eyes.”
She didn’t reply.
“What happened,” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said.
“There is something,” he said.
“I guess I just forgot that you were married,” she said.
“You’re not the only one,” he replied.
“You never talk about her. Tell me about her.”
“You’ve never wanted to know about her before today.”
“Well, I want to know about her now,” she demanded.
He sighed.
“Do you love her,” she asked, impatiently.
“You know the answer to that question.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“I don’t love her. I never have. Satisfied?”
“Then why did you marry her?”
“I married her because I wanted a specific government job. Nothing more, nothing less. So ease your jealousy.”
“Why don’t you divorce her,” she questioned.
“That’s not such a simple proposition.”
“From my understanding, all you have to do is repeat one word three times.”
“Then what? What of the consequences that would follow, huh? I would lose my position, I may never be able to come see you again, and I would be ridiculed in society as a man who married a widow for his means and then threw her away. Is that what you want?”
She crossed her arms and looked away from him.
“Listen to me, Zoia. If it wasn’t so complicated, I would do it. You know I would.”
She looked at the street below with little to no traffic. She noticed the few walking by on the sidewalks. In particular, she noticed a tall woman holding the hand of a rambunctious little boy. He began to whine in front of the window of the neighborhood bakery and, though she tried to refuse him, soon she and the little boy disappeared into the shop.
“She doesn’t know about me, does she,” she asked.
“No, she doesn’t,” he replied.
“Are you afraid that she might divorce you herself?” He chuckled.
“If she found out, she’d probably be angry with me; she might curse me a few times, she might even leave the house, but I doubt she’d take any actual action.”
“Why? I would’ve if I was in her place.”
“You’ve grown up here in France. It’s a very different environment and society from Pakistan. Women here are independent. They’re allowed to be independent. They speak their opinions and are free to make their own decisions. Besides, if you were in her place, you wouldn’t have married me, to begin with.”
“Did you tell her of your intentions before you got married?”
“No, but these things are a bit obvious there. Not many people would opt to marry an older woman with a son unless there was something to gain from it.”
“But you did,” she accused.
“Don’t look at me like that. There was an opportunity for a better life and I took it, that’s all.”
“You don’t love her,” she spoke.
He smiled.
“Come here,” he gestured. “Sit down next to me.”
She looked at him spitefully with her arms crossed, but he continued to smile at her. Eventually, she rose from her seat, walked over to him, and sat down. Her expression had softened, but there was still bitterness in her eyes.
“I don’t love her. I don’t think any man could love such a tiresome woman. I know that, but I know another thing too.”
He took her hand in his.
“I know that I love you. I know that I feel like I’m living when I’m with you. Please don’t doubt that because of her.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. She couldn’t help but smile at the tender gesture. She didn’t like the situation, but she knew that she loved him. She closed whatever gap there was between them and leaned in. Just then, a familiar ring filled her ears. They felt the table vibrate and almost instinctively she turned toward the phone. In an instant, her smile faded. She pulled her hand away, rose from her seat, and walked inside.
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