After going through the trauma of losing her brother who was her best friend and comforter. Naomi has to endure the maltreatment of her parents. She finds that her tears become her only companions.
One day at sunrise her mother barges into her room...
Hundreds of footsteps broke out, she could have mistaken it for a thunderbolt. At the corner of her eye, men dressed in black vests spread out, they surrounded Anthony, on all sides. Protecting, guarding and shielding him as if their lives depended on it. She wondered how they hadn't pushed her out of the way by now. But she was the least of their worries. Their faces were stuck in deep concentration. Their eyes set on Ishaan.
Each of them with rifles in their hands, pointed directly at Ishaan. Waiting patiently for his next move.
One wrong move and she doubted they would hesitate to pull the trigger.
Naomi in silent despair turned to look at Anthony. A cocky grin played on his lips as he gazed down at Ishaan.
Anthony seemed unfazed.
A question played in her head as fear crawled up on her. She gazed at Anthony shocked at his composure. She watched him and then watched all the men that had gathered to protect him, with rifles in their grasp.
Who is this man?
The question ringed in her ears but she pushed it aside.
Naomi watched as sweat beads formed on Ishaans forehead. His lips quivered and he wet it unconsciously.
Just put the gun down!
The words echoed in Naomi's head, she wanted to scream those words to him over and over again at least until his sanity returned to him. But she feared to draw attention to herself. A hundred plus guns were pointed directly at him, waiting patiently for him to make one wrong move.
Just before Naomi thought everything would go downhill from here, a woman from the table, someone Naomi hadn't even spared a simple glance, stood up.
She was beautifully dressed in an orange sarri, that covered her from head to toe. The sarri was embellished with beautiful jewels that scattered themselves across the soft fabric creating unique patterns that captured the eyes. Her hair and face was covered except for her eyes.
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Naomi took her attention away from that woman and looked at the rest of the woman that sat at the same table, they too were dressed in saris but one was dressed in green and the other in purple whereas her petticoat and blouse were yellow. Naomi thought them a peculiar combination but was still filled with awe. The jewelry on their attire an opulency of their wealth. Both their eyes were brown differing from the first woman, their hair and half of their face hidden behind the fabric of their hijab.
Naomi remembered that Anthony had said that Ishaan, his colleague, had three wives. Naomi figured that the three woman seated there were his wives.
She returned her attention back to the woman that had stood up and scrutinized her. Even though half of her face was hidden behind the silk fabric, her eyes were a vivid testimony to her beauty, black eyes that did not move frantically across the room at all the eyes that stared wide-eyed. But her eyes were firm and confident, they landed on Anthony and the woman threw him a look of disdain and resentment.
