"Sweetness is the form. Deceit is the game."
A tall, white man with a full beard and a golden ring glinting on his left ear stood on the busy pavement, two shopping bags dangling from his hands. Restlessness radiated from him as he checked his watch for the third time.
"Where's that idiot driver of mine? He's taking forever. If he doesn't get here in the next twelve seconds, I'll behead him."
Hanif, standing to his right, gave a wry smile. "It's a busy street, Masud. Probably stuck in traffic. Let the poor guy breathe."
Shoaib, leaning against a lamp post, snapped his fingers dismissively. "Traffic or not, it's no excuse. Masud shouldn't be roasting here in this heat."
Masud exhaled sharply. "Whatever. I'm going to the bar across the street. Call me when the car shows up."
He tossed the bags into their arms without a glance back and strode toward the bar, his heavy steps quickening with every stride.
The bar was almost deserted, its air still and heavy with the faint smell of stale liquor. Late afternoon sunlight bled through dusty blinds, striping the floor in pale gold. Outside, the street simmered in the heat, nearly empty—most had gone home for lunch.
Masud walked straight to the counter and slid a dollar bill across the polished wood.
The bartender glanced down, then up, one eyebrow raised. "US currency doesn't work here."
Masud didn't blink. "I know. I'm not an idiot. I don't have Dirhams. The dollar's worth more—change it later."
The bartender's eyes drifted over him, slow and deliberate. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Masud's jaw flexed. "What is this, an exam? Just give me my drink."
A small chuckle. "Come back with Dirhams next time."
Masud's fingers twitched near his jacket—just a subtle movement—when a woman's voice interrupted.
"Here. Put his drink on my tab."
He turned. She stood a few steps away, posture relaxed but her gaze sharp, like someone who saw more than she let on.
"No need for that," Masud said evenly.
"It's fine," she replied. "I had the same problem when I first arrived."
He looked her over—not in attraction, but assessment. "Israeli?"
She laughed, light and disarming. "That's the usual guess. No, Pakistan."
Masud's mouth curved faintly. "Libya."
She extended her hand. "Nafisa Ali."
"Masud Farooque."
Her brow furrowed in mock thought. "That name… I feel like I've heard it before."
Masud's voice carried the weight of a closed door. "It's a common name."
"Why Dubai from Pakistan? Escaping something?" she asked, smiling as though it were harmless small talk.
She waved her own question away before he could answer. "Never mind. I came here chasing opportunities. Got something else instead."
Masud tilted his head. "My mother was from Pakistan. Not exactly… Pakistani. Roots in Balochistan."
"She must've been remarkable."
A pause. "She lived alone. Preferred it that way."
Nafisa's eyes lingered on him, as if reading a half-buried truth. "Why don't you join me for lunch? It's nice to share a table with a compatriot."
"I don't eat outside," he said. "But a drink or two—fine."
"Whatever works for you."
They moved to a table in the corner, where shadows softened the edges of their faces. Neither broke eye contact for long, each sipping their drink while silently wondering what the other wasn't saying.
Nafisa broke the silence. "So… who's in your family?"
Masud took a slow sip of his drink. "No one special. My father's too wrapped up in himself, and my stepbrother and sister make sure I feel like a stranger in my own house."
Nafisa's fingers brushed over his hand, light but deliberate. "I know the feeling. I don't have much of a family either. Whatever was left… was destroyed long ago. I suppose I saw it coming."
Masud gave a dry smile. "At least you've made your peace with it. I'm still trying."
Her smile was faint, almost fragile. "So what are you doing here? Vacation?"
"Yeah. Though it feels more like exile. I've got my two servants with me, but they're just… yes-men."
"Then come with me tonight," Nafisa said, leaning forward. "I know a place in Sharjah you'll like."
Masud's eyes narrowed. "I don't know. I'd have to ask my father."
"It's just one night," she coaxed. "We'll have fun."
He exhaled through his nose. "Fine. Meet me at eight."
He pushed back his chair and headed for the door.
"Where?" she called after him.
"This bar," he said without turning.
The door swung shut behind him. Moments later, his car was nothing but a shrinking dot in the distance. Nafisa's jaw tightened as she let out a slow, irritated sigh.
Nafisa sat at a corner table, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. A car pulled up outside, headlights briefly slicing through the dim glow of the bar. Masud stepped out and walked in, scanning the room until he spotted her. She raised a hand. He waved back and made his way over.
"Looking beautiful," he said, leaning down to kiss her hand.
A faint blush rose on her cheeks. "And you're handsome tonight."
He took the seat across from her just as the waiter approached. "What will you have?" the waiter asked.
Masud glanced around. "Wasn't this just a bar this afternoon?"
Nafisa smiled. "It becomes a restaurant at night. Double service."
Masud eyed the waiter. "I've seen you somewhere before."
The waiter returned a polite smile. "Perhaps in the park? I walk there often."
Masud narrowed his eyes. "And how do you know I take morning walks?"
"You're usually accompanied by two men. You're… memorable."
Masud chuckled. "Relax. I was teasing. Bring me your special. And for this fine lady—whatever she wants."
Nafisa smiled. "I'll have the same."
"Good choice," the waiter said before hurrying toward the kitchen.
Masud's gaze drifted around the room. "Not many people here tonight. Feels… off."
"It's normal," Nafisa replied, waving it off. "Some nights are busy, others aren't. That's the hotel business."
Masud tilted his head. "And how do you know about the hotel business?"
"Just trivial knowledge," she said with a faint smile.
"Hmm. Maybe there's still a lot to learn about you."
Her eyes softened into a playful glint. "You can try."
Masud's expression darkened. "So, where are we going?"
Nafisa's smile faltered. "Bad news. The place is under renovation. We'll go another day."
He studied her face. "Why do I feel something ominous is about to happen?"
"It's only anxiety. It passes," she murmured, tightening her grip on his hand. "I promise."
The waiter returned with two trays of food and drinks, setting them down briskly. "Bon appétit." Without another word, he vanished into the kitchen.
Masud raised an eyebrow. "He moves fast."
"Yes, he does," Nafisa replied.
"You know him?"
She chuckled. "No. Just agreeing with you."
Masud leaned back, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "You don't have to agree. I hate lies more than anything. Say what you think."
"Roger that."
They laughed together—though the laughter lingered in the air a little too long, as if covering something else entirely.
Masud dabbed his mouth with the napkin and set it aside.
"So, I guess that's my cue to leave."
Nafisa tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
"What's the hurry? Won't you be a gentleman and walk the pretty lady home?"
Masud chuckled.
"This pretty lady deserves the comfort of a car. Come on, let me drop you."
"Nah," she shook her head lightly. "My house is close by. I wouldn't want to trouble you."
He hesitated for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought.
"On second thought… it's quite late. And I'd much rather walk the lady home myself."
Nafisa's smile softened.
"I suppose I could use the company."
They stepped out of the bar together. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain. Masud raised his hand, signaling his driver. The man rolled down the window, and Masud gestured for him to head home. The driver gave a short nod before the car disappeared into the quiet street.
The night was bright and silvered, the moon hanging in the sky like a polished pearl. Its milky glow spilled across the rugged road ahead, stretching their shadows into long, wavering shapes.
Nafisa rubbed her elbows, shivering. Without a word, Masud slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
"Aren't you a sweetheart?" she said with a teasing smile.
Masud returned it with one of his own, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary. They walked in companionable silence until a small but elegant house came into view. Its warm light spilled onto the path, contrasting with the cold night air.
Nafisa stopped at the gate.
"Won't you have a cup of hot coffee? Or… something else? Even hotter."
Masud caught the meaning and chuckled softly.
"I'm getting late. Perhaps we can save the fun for another night."
She stepped closer, her hand sliding over his shoulder in a slow, deliberate stroke.
"Why wait for another night… when it can happen tonight?"
His smile deepened.
"Because I'd like to keep my curiosity alive."
Nafisa's eyes glimmered in the moonlight as she closed the gap between them until her breath brushed his lips.
"Don't you want to come inside, now?"
Masud swallowed hard.
"It's better to wait. The night is cold."
Her lips grazed his, soft and lingering.
"Then let's not make it colder."
She kissed him, and the moment quickly ignited into something heated and urgent. But in the midst of it, Masud felt a sharp burning sensation creeping into his neck. His vision began to cloud, the edges of the world dissolving into darkness.
"What… have you… done…?" he gasped, before crumpling to the ground.
Nafisa straightened, wiping her lips with a slow swipe of her thumb. She pulled out her phone.
"We have the package. Come and get it."
Her gaze lingered on his unconscious form, a sly smile curling her lips.
"It was a pleasure meeting you."
She stepped over him and vanished into the thickening fog, the rhythmic click of her heels fading into the night.....