The next day, at a high-end pottery studio, Zahara was sitting patiently in the waiting area near the entrance, scrolling through her phone as she waited for Xavier to arrive.
But Xavier hadn’t shown up yet, and instead, another familiar voice reached her ears. “Zahara?”
Zahara’s fingers paused slightly before she looked up in the direction of the voice. She saw Rabia’s smiling face.
Standing beside Rabia was a man with a meticulously styled haircut and dressed in upscale attire, though his face was rather ordinary. His entire demeanor screamed wealth.
As Zahara finished sizing up the man, Rabia spoke cheerfully, “It really is you, Zahara. Are you here for pottery? Why are you alone? Didn’t your husband come with you?”
At this point, Rabia seemed to recall something and blurted out a
