Back then, I was barely a man and Laila wasall woman.
‘Who’s in the photos?’ Cassie asked.
‘That is my mother in the centre, with her neighbours.’ I showed Cassie and Nico the screen.
‘Your mum looks fun. And wow, who’s that woman on her left?’ Cassie pointed. ‘She’s really pretty!’
That was exactly what I was just thinking.
‘That is Laila.’
I scrolled to the next photo. When I saw a policeman standing in front of Laila, who was sitting on a chair, looking terrified, my eyes widened.
Was she in some kind of trouble? My heart thudded in my chest as I wondered whether she was okay.
‘Why is there a policeman with her?’ Nico asked, once again voicing my thoughts.
‘I am not sure,’ I frowned. ‘My mother said Laila was celebrating herfreedom.’
‘From prison?’ Nico tilted his head.
‘I do not think so,’ I replied, wondering if I should call her to find out.
I tried to limit my contact with my mother, but I hated the thought of Laila being in trouble and not being able to help her.
‘You two are hilarious!’ Cassie grabbed my phone and zoomed in. ‘That’s not arealpoliceman! He’s a stripper!’ She burst out laughing.
‘Oh!’ Nico chuckled.
‘Your mum’s friends certainly know how to celebrate!’ Cassie added. ‘It’s probably a divorce party if she’s “celebrating her freedom”.’
‘I do not think she was married,’ I said, thinking that my mother definitely would have mentioned if she was and that I always thought it was a miracle that someone like Laila was even single.
I remembered thinking that she was the definition of a perfect woman. Not because of her beauty, but because she had a kind heart. She adored her son and sacrificed so much for him. Her education. Her career. Her happiness.
And she was so smart. The long discussions we would have when I came to London were always the highlight of my holidays.
‘Looks like they got her some kind of voucher or something.’ Cassie scrolled back to the first photo, then zoomed in. ‘No way!’ she shrieked.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘The piece of paper she’s holding up is a receipt for a hotel. And not justanyhotel!’ Cassie grinned.
‘I do not understand.’ My face crumpled.
‘You’re not gonna believe this considering we wereliterallyjust talking about it, but it’s a receipt for a deposit for the Paris Love Hotel – the one Nico invested in!’
‘Thatisa coincidence.’ Nico’s brows shot up.
‘You might call it coincidence, but I call it a sign.’ Cassie’s eyes brightened. ‘It’s like the universe wanted us to persuade Gabriel to go, so it made his mum send him that picture right at the exact moment that we needed him to see it.’
‘Perhaps,’ Nico said.
‘Whether you believe in the universe, or coincidences or not, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. The point is, now Gabriel has hadtwomentions of the same hotel in one day, which has to count for something, right?’ Cassie insisted.
‘How does it work exactly?’ I said, resting my finger on my chin. ‘It is a large group of single people that go to the hotel and you chat with each other until you find someone that you are interested in?’
‘No,’ Cassie said. ‘You fill out a detailed questionnaire, pay a deposit and then the matchmaking experts use some top-secret magic to find your perfect woman from the zillions of applicants. And you only get invited to the hotel if they find your soulmate. Could take a week, could take months, or even years. It all depends on when the future love of your life applies.’
