The Day Before

Zoya Siddiqui Arora laughed at her husband as he tried to tackle the weeds in their garden unsuccessfully, a small frown on his face. This had been a running gag since they'd moved in together before their marriage - she failed miserably at cooking and he, in managing the garden. They'd been together for over a decade and they'd made it through thick and thin. Zoya couldn't be happier. Life was as close to perfect as it could be.

Zoya shut her eyes and tilted her face towards the sun, basking in the rays' warmth, content and happy. A sharp 'ouch' from Yash brought her back to Earth from her daydream - the goof had managed to cut his palm. At that moment, his phone rang, breaking the tranquility of their time together - something of a rarity in their busy schedules. As Yash reached for the phone in his breast pocket, more blood stained his right wrist and fell onto his blazer, staining his left side red. The blotch stood out angrily against the pristine white of the garment. Zoya got up to help Yash but before she could take a step towards him, he rose abruptly. He clutched at his phone with his clean hand, his knuckles pale and body stiff. Wordlessly, he stalked towards the house without sparing a glance at his wife.

The ease with which the pair had spent the past few hours outdoors seemed to have evaporated into thin air. Yash called for Zoya from the conservatory. She complied, mutinous that their time together had been spoiled. Yash stood in the landing with his shoes on, phone still gripped tightly in his hand, a frown on his face, a tic pulsing in his jaw. He'd changed out of the white blazer and donned a grey one. Putting her irritation aside - they could discuss this phone issue when Yash returned - Zoya put a small smile on her face in an attempt to ease the tension on her husband's face. His stoic face told her it was fruitless. Woodenly, he stepped forward and embraced her lightly. Kissing her on the forehead, he murmured 'I'll be home late. It's urgent. Love you'.

No sooner had Zoya uttered her response had Yash slammed the door behind him. Zoya's mood shifted from irritation to apprehension. It wasn't like Yash to become so angry over what she assumed was a simple phone call - or maybe it was much more. She watched her love drive off down the street, dread creeping up on her, niggling at the back of her mind. Something horrid was going to happen. But what?

Yash slammed his foot on the brakes of the car as the alley came into view. Yes. This would be the perfect spot to park the car. It was a quick meeting, he'd be back in 10 minutes stat - or so he hoped. Their organisation hadn't met in weeks and now, there was a dire situation at hand. Another one of their members was to execute their meetup today at the other end of Staines - nothing should go wrong here. It would be fatal for her, and that was a risk they couldn't take, not after so many months of hard work. Yash reversed the vehicle and switched it off. He needed a moment to compose himself, before merging with a crowd of people. His veneer of calm mustn't slip. He'd already let the illusion slip in front of the one person he hoped it never would , Zoya, the love of his life. Yash couldn't commit the same blunder again. Taking a few deep breaths, he composed himself before reaching into the compartment in the passenger seat for the small notebook. Tucking it away inside his blazer, Yash exited the car.

Within seconds, Yash found himself walking down the High Street. For a Saturday afternoon, it was relatively packed, which made his job easier. He blended easily with the crowd. A semi casual outfit didn't make him stick out like a sore thumb, thank goodness. As he weaved his way through the mass of people, Yash felt the hairs on his neck and forearms prickle - someone was watching him, tracking him. He couldn't try and look for them, that would be too obvious; it would give him away. He needed to get there, fast. Time was running out.

Back at home, Zoya paced Yash's study, back and forth, countless times, mulling over what had happened. She prided herself in being observant and today, something was definitely off. She shut her eyes and conjured up the last few minutes in her mind. The cut, phone call and goodbye. She focused on Yash. He hadn't seemed guilty, no. It was tension, anger and fear that marred his features. He had tried to hide it to the best of his ability but Zoya had seen it. Something wasn't right. His behaviour stood out today. The past few months had been nothing out of the ordinary, she felt. They'd been consumed in their own schedules - she with her work at the local library and he with his frequent meetings. Yash had always been on the quiet side, dealing with the majority of his issues on his own. What popped up today, Zoya concluded, must be one of those.

She brushed aside her concerns and called up her colleagues. They'd planned to spend the day together before a hectic week took hold of them. In half an hour, she was ready. Having donned a maroon jumpsuit and black flats, she left the house, car keys in her fist. A wave of worry washed over her as she locked the door. There it was again, resurfacing in her subconscious. Why wasn't it letting go? Surely, everything was fine?

Time flew past as Zoya and her team wandered around Windsor, stopping for some lunch. Eventually, they decided to crash at her place for the night - commute to work would be a lot easier. Zoya found herself back at home, her day had come full circle. The sun had set and she was exhausted. As she pulled into their driveway, she noticed that Yash's spot was still vacant - that was unusual. He was usually back by 4 on a Saturday, it was more or less a routine. A loud clap bought Zoya back to reality. Her best friend was looking at her curiously, a small smile twitching her lips. Eyebrows raised, she asked if Zoya was alright. Still distracted, she gave her a small smile to reassure her. The worry crept back in, piercing her subconscious, pushing her to find out if Yash was okay. Something told her he most definitely wasn't. Zoya was correct - her husband had taken his last breath already and now lay dead in a morgue.

Frantically, with her hand shaking, Zoya unlocked her front door, the questions from her team echoing in her ears as if they were miles away, not hot on her heels. She connected her phone to the charger in the outlet and waited for it to boot. Her heart stopped to see 5 missed calls from an unknown number. Without wasting another second, she called the number back. They picked up after two rings and without pleasantries, said one sentence that destroyed Zoya completely. Her Yash was dead, apparent cause a heart attack. Soundlessly, Zoya took a note of the morgue's address and grabbing her best friend's arm, left the house. At that moment, she didn't know what she said to the others but all that she needed was somebody with her for getting through this unthinkable situation.

Zoya knew she couldn't drive, not now, so she handed the car keys over to her companion. The latter didn't dare ask what exactly had occurred- Zoya's face told her it was too hard to say it. They sped over to the heart of Staines within 15 minutes and found themselves in the car park of the morgue soon after. Zoya stepped out of the vehicle. She needed to do this. An assistant guided the pair to where Yash lay and then left them alone.

There he was, just as Zoya had last seen him. No injuries, just there. She stepped forward slowly, her arm outstretched. She needed to know for sure that he was gone. There was a part of her that found this difficult to accept. How could he be gone so soon, so suddenly? She needed to know - the autopsy was going to tell her a lie. Yash was perfectly healthy.

Outside the room where the two women grieved the loss of a man they held so dear , hidden around a corner, stood a small man with a hoodie on, reveling in the chaos of the aftermath of the death that had just occurred. Yash Arora was gone. His team's mission was sure to be hindered. Now, on to the other member. They would die in a few hours. Jones would make sure of that. Yash's death was his, Smith's responsibility, and he'd done it perfectly. Zoya was shattered and that only added to the greatness of his victory.

Inside the room where Yash lay, Zoya stood, catatonic for a moment, before her legs gave way and she collapsed next to the bed. A faint shout of her name did nothing to bring her out of the haze she was in. She was shattered, but she knew that she'd have to pick herself up soon. Somehow, she'd have to live again - but now without Yash.

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Sorry for the delay, I was caught up in work, whoops. This chapter is mainly for Zoya's character introduction and furthering the plot. I have a particular liking for colour symbolism (and symbolism in general) and references to lots of things so these will form the links connecting the plots of 'Ghost Of You' together. The initial plan was to do what I did for Aditya in 2 chapters do for Zoya in 1 but not only would it be too lengthy (even for me !) and would most likely confuse you, it would undermine Zoya's loss, which is equally profound and heart wrenching.

Yash's death is this for now, but nothing is what it seems, unfortunately.

The next update will be on Wednesday :)

As usual, any feedback (criticism welcome with open arms) ? Do let me know !

Dhyan x