The Contract by Zeenat Mahal

Taking her arm, he said smiling, “Just one more thing before we go.”
    He was leading her to the small Cartier outlet in the hotel lobby. Shahira was a little apprehensive.
    “What are we doing here?”
    Hussain smiled at her and said, “We’re buying you a gift. I hope you’ll accept it as gracefully as
    you do everything else in life.”
    Shahira didn’t know what to do but Hussain was busy with the saleswoman and they both ignored
    her as he shopped for diamonds. Shahira wasn’t amused. At last, he was happy with something and
    turning towards her said, “I like these.”
    He held a pair of gorgeous and huge diamond studs.
    “These don’t go well with your outfit at all.”
    He burst out laughing.
    “You know very well, emeralds are my thing. Although, now that you suggest it, I could be
    persuaded to wear them if you’ll do a little experimenting with body piercings for me.”
    “No thanks. And I have mine on already. See?”
    She showed him her tiny studs.
    “I can hardly see them, they’re miniscule,” he said, in a deceptively casual voice. “You’re not
    going to be difficult about this, I hope?”
    “Not at all. There’s nothing difficult about it. It’s very simple. I can’t accept such expensive gifts
    from you, Hussain. It’s unseemly.”
    “Unseemly? By what stretch of the imagination is it unseemly?” He lowered his voice and said
    with restraint, “I paid for what you’re wearing, have been wearing for nearly a year. What kind of
    foolish attitude is this? Why do you continue to try and prove some elusive point by refusing to let me
    buy you or Shahaan anything?”
    “This isn’t a trifle. Please, this isn’t the place for this discussion.”
    “A bit late for that.” He turned and gave his credit card to the saleswoman with a face that seemed
    to be etched in stone.
    “Hussain, please, I earn what you give me and all that you have given me was justified by the
    contract we have, but this isn’t and I can’t accept such expensive gifts because it’s not like you’re my
    real husband and you don’t have to behave like you are…or…”
    His whisper didn’t quite mask his fury.
    “Or expect you to behave like a wife? That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m giving you diamonds to
    convince you or oblige you into giving me your favors in bed?”
    She felt chagrined at hearing it put so blandly, and it sounded rather idiotic when he said it.
    “I’m sorry…I can’t help what you think, and I can’t change the way I feel about these things.”
    He continued to stare at her in utter silence, his eyes searching her face and when she didn’t meet
    his eyes, he grabbed the box and thrust it in her face, and said shortly, “Wear them. You’re going as
    my wife and you need to look the part.”
    She knew he was angry. She didn’t want to embarrass him any more than she already had. So she
    put them on, telling herself it was just for the night.
    Hussain led the way outside in chilly silence. She tried to look nonchalant but she felt she’d done
    something wrong. But of course she hadn’t, she’d done the sensible thing. She wasn’t going to
    compromise her principles to make someone else feel better. Hadn’t she done that before? Hadn’t she
    done it repeatedly only to be scorched innumerable times?
    The valet brought the car as they approached and Hussain took the keys from him. He did not forget
    or ignore his usual good grace; he came around and opened the door for her, his eyes focused
    somewhere a foot above her head. She sat down, still feeling miserable.
    It was a fancy restaurant and Shahira began to worry about committing a faux pas that would
    embarrass Hussain. He pulled out a chair; she slid into it, suddenly very close to tears. Thankfully the
    guests arrived; two tall, good-looking Arabs, much older than Hussain, and a Frenchwoman, also in
    her forties.
    Shahira greeted the woman in French, which delighted her and made the Arabs happy because