“I’m open to a conversation with Deepica. Thank you for thinking of me.” Khatira paused, letting the idea settle into place. Her mind drifted back to Laila’s office overlooking the Chicago River. “Would there be an office with a brown leather chair in the mix as well?”
Silence met her on the other line. Janvi slowly responded, “A brown leather chair? Um....I can ask.”
Satisfied, Khatira clicked off the phone and took a deep breath. Smiling broadly, she hugged herself. She could do this. Make her own rules. Live by her own ethos. And never have to scrape for another cent again. Khatira Kar—Large and In Charge—was going to be coming to a city near you. Except, of course, you’d never see her coming.
Khatira leaned back against the seat, her fingers scrolling through her phone idly, letting the city’s pulse fade into the background. But before she could lose herself in the possibility of being a consultant and diving into the entrepreneurial world completely, her phone buzzed with a text.
She stared at the name: Hal.
Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before she opened the message.
“Got a gig. High-stakes, rare vintage watch. Client’s asking for a specific one. You in?”
Khatira read the text twice, feeling her pulse quicken. The familiar adrenaline surged through her veins like a shot of caffeine. She bit her lip, the excitement bubbling. This was it. This was the life she wanted. The thrill, the chase—outsmarting the untouchables. Marketing consultant by day, an “appropriator of goods” by night. Luxury and theft, mingling seamlessly. Like they always have throughout the ages.
Her fingers danced across the screen without thinking.
“Tell me more.”
Chicago
August 15th
Laila Malik
Laila stared down at her phone, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. In bold, capital letters, the words“CASE DISMISSED!”shouted at her from Khatira’s message.“Trixie Brands couldn’t provide any proof that I was aware of the carcinogens in their products. Judge dismissed the whole case. The lawyer you got to represent me was awesome!!!”
“Yes!” Laila shouted with a fist bump in the air, startling the pigeons around her. She looked around in embarrassment, hoping only the pigeons had seen her. After showering Khatira with heart emojis, she tucked her phone away and continued on her walk toward the Hyatt—her home away from the office. Jay had kept that monstrosity of a penthouse, with its ridiculous mortgage and ostentatious furnishings. Good riddance!
Laila took the longer route back, strolling through the park. It was too nice of a day to rush back to her claustrophobic hotel room. She took a deep breath, the scent of dahlias filling her lungs.
She felt caught between worlds. Without a permanent home, and with work becoming lighter these past couple of weeks, she had too much time on her hands. She suspected Alex was deliberately easing her caseload due to the divorce, assuming she was still mourning the loss of her marriage. In truth, she was mourning the loss of Gabriel. It had been almost a month since they’d last seen each other.
Laila sat on a bench, closing her eyes, letting the stillness settle around her. Her mind drifted back to her last memory of Gabriel—his tired, strained eyes, the wires and monitors beeping relentlessly. His lips forming the wordgoodbye. Instead of lingering there, her thoughts jumped to how his lips had felt on hers, his teeth grazing her shoulder, his fingers beneath her jaw, pulling her gaze upward to meet the raw hunger in his eyes. A soft moan escaped her lips.
“Look, mommy!” A small voice broke her out of her reverie. Laila’s eyes flew open to see a toddler pointing at her. Had she really just moaned out loud? Was she about to be arrested for lewd behavior?
“Look, mommy!” the child repeated, pointing again. Laila glanced down. Perched on the bench beside her, a monarch butterfly sat perfectly still, eyeing her closely.
Laila peered at it distrustfully. Staring straight ahead, she pretended not to notice it at all. “This means nothing, you mean nothing,” she whispered to herself.
Annoyed despite herself, she finally looked down at the butterfly and said in a low, urgent whisper, “Do you know he hasn’t texted me in almost a month? Not even a smoke signal to let me know he’s okay.”
The butterfly remained next to her, flapping its wings lazily. Unbothered by her outburst.
“I have a life here. A career. A good one. He should come to me,” Laila said hotly, irritated by the butterfly’s indifference.
The toddler looked at them both in confusion before running over to the swings.
Laila stood up and began to walk away. “And now I’m scaring small children thanks to you. Great job, Morelia!” she said, inadvertently naming the butterfly after the city she couldn’t get out of her mind.
The butterfly lightly got up and flew next to her. “Unbelievable.” Laila looked around her to see if anyone else was noticing the butterfly’s odd behavior. Laila continued to talk aloud, “Khatira wasn’t wrong. There are a lot of unanswered questions and as his lawyer, I should let him know that giving his children the option of living in the United States would only set them up for success in the future. Maybe he’s unaware of that.”
Laila then wrinkled her nose. “And I know success means different things to different people. They could all be perfectly happy living exactly where they are. But I just think a person should have options, you know?”
Hailing a cab and continuing the conversation, “And I deserve answers too. Maria Sofia this and Maria Angelica that. Anyone would get confused by that. There was no need to hold that grudge against me for so long.”
“Where to, lady?” the cab driver asked, interrupting her mutterings.
“O’Hare Airport,” Laila said, her voice clear, strong, and confident (nothing like a crazy woman muttering to butterflies).
She jabbed a finger at the window, where the butterfly hovered, and continued, “And he better not be boinking his sister-in-law.”
As the cab driver waited for the traffic light to turn green, Laila, her stomach in knots, sat back against the seat. Am I really doing this? The thought echoed in her mind as she pulled out her phone. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the flight app and began to book a ticket to Morelia. The confirmation page loaded.
She had done it! She was finally going to see Gabriel. A soft breath escaped her lips, and she quietly corrected herself, “My Gabriel,” she whispered.
The butterfly fluttered once more, as if to say, ‘It’s time.’ And then, it vanished into the wind.
