Hailey Roosevelt's POV:
I'm a 25-year-old businesswoman, and yes, you heard that right. I own the biggest diamond store in Qatar, "Hale Diamonds." The name has a story behind it, and it goes back to the nights when my father, Robert Roosevelt, a decent diamond merchant, had his own small shop near the warehouses and factories in Doha. We lived in a two-story apartment, one luxurious floor with a classic wooden fence and lights where diamonds gleamed with allure. On the other floor, our shop is behind the rich ambiance, a little room with mediocre lights, in the corner for making rings and pendants. We had many artisans who excelled in traditional techniques to carve beautiful pieces.
Our name, "Robert Roosevelt Diamonds," was heard loudly in the neighborhood when wedding season approached.
I remember Jenny, our old and truthful friend and maid, our cook as well as house help. I was sixteen when I learned about physical relationships from Jenny. I heard her talking to her boyfriend; the conversation wasn't mere about love but about making love till the midnight in the absence of her husband; simply,simply she just wanted to be pinned on walls, moaning . I was disgusted at her until she uncovered her stomach and showed me her scars, which were like two digged red lines as if someone scratched, and of course it was that beast, her husband. Her husband had been brutal to her. I was too young to understand, but she copped with it for the sake of their children.
A year passed, so the left-out innocence in me was growing steadily. Being a single child with moody parents, I just wanted someone who gave me all that attention. I wondered if my friends were just snakes or if I was the one fitting out the frame. I demanded more of myself; I realized I wanted to experience love for once. I understood what Jenny had been through when my first boyfriend left me. He tried to manipulate me for his physical pleasure, and thankfully, Jenny took me under her wing. That was the first time I had a panic attack; I wasn't able to breathe. I was trying to catch my breath, and suddenly the beeping in the hospital became too silent. All I heard was "Inhale, exhale... calm down." I did. I learned how you can survive even when you feel dead inside. I believed I was dead, but I was just stabbed. That's where "Hale Diamonds" comes from.
Luckily, my mother found out about my certificate of low character—a bad girl at such a young age. She rewarded me with no night outs, no phone, and no more social interactions, which was also necessary at the moment. Jenny was fired. My father never knew why or under which circumstances. I know she saved my life; she shouldn't have been fired, but my mother was thankful to her. My mother was as delicate as her name, Elle Roosevelt. She was a woman of her words, a survivor. She survived in the "Roosevelt Cottage," a toxic environment, for 17 years of marriage, working as a home tutor and managing me. My father was busy with work, although it was our house business, or maybe he was just busy to bother about us. Before I was seventeen, I never heard him confess his love for my mother, although sometimes I could see it a little when he brought her surprises. Hot and cold sessions were prevalent.
My mother didn't want to fire Jenny, but she couldn't tolerate and trust anyone who knew this information, thus the act of shame that her young girl has lost it for a small time. It was all blank and raw in my wind, awestruck in situations what could possibly happen under which way. My exams were approaching in one month. I had no time to start but to cram. I never scored so well in academics until I received such a push. I had nothing to do except study, but I remember little incidents that were all I could think about my high school days. Days I could not forget were my first and last day of twelveth standard. I remember I wasn't much cold; I appeared different now. I was smiling when I entered the classroom; everyone started at my plated chocolate brown hair, pale skin, and black big round eyes. I appeared different to them, among them. Yes, we were all products of the dark side of industries in Doha. I appeared strange to them, as among all the foreign workers, I was the daughter of a diamond merchant. The only reason to stay in Doha was to accomplish the Qatari lifestyle for once. Another reason was the attention I got. I still remember how the other girls were jealous of me when other boys of the class gave me attention. I was different. I didn't like to gossip. If I formed connections, they were only by the heart. I still remember contributing to everyone's birthday and not getting a single wish. I remember how I remained silent like a dumb girl when they made me feel left out, but I was thankful to them as I scored good grades among all of them. The key to my dreams was in my hand; the ticket was ready. I was getting my phone back, my freedom back, my chance back.
I received the phone call I waited for back then from Ron; no doubt he was the first playboy I encountered. He wasn't in regret but in fear, as if he knew I would make him come to the streets by me once I sent him a legal notice. One copy to his address and the next to his medicine center. He pleaded, "My parents are stressed; I had to pay my bills." I replied back, "What about mine?"? "Do you remember treating them ill?"? He said, "I am sorry, Hailey." This was the first time I wasn't accepting his apology anymore. I always believed in forgiveness and love, but unfortunately I stopped being kind to such people. Actually, I stopped being in love with anyone who appears to be a good person, and everyone does so. I sought revenge. I had to be a witch for once. I had to be the fallen Lucifer.
these incidents were just like Dawn of Wednesday. it changed my perspective on life. I promised myself to never love and to never believe again.
I was ready to fire, to let the game begin. I closed Ron in the last chapter of my old book. I was not sure about beginning a new one, but I decided to end the old Hailey. I fetched more information for my solace, and finally I laughed, "Enjoy the show."
The torn pages of my life:
There was a person in me who could have forgiven him. There was. The actual surreal tale of my life started when, after my test, when I went to school, I was bullied. To the end, I didn't want to live. I didn't know how, but everyone knew. I was alone. Boys waited for getting a chance to be with me, and girls were insecure. I was screaming inside my head. I didn't like weak shit anymore. I replied to him, "So you think my parents were very cheerful about the situation? . People like you belong to the streets.
I blocked him from everywhere. I sent my confession to his center, and his license was canceled. Life moved ahead. These three years of my life were going to be the best I wished. I always wanted to study law. I got admission into the best university in Qatar. My parents were very happy and proud. I was optimistic. The time was changed now it was in our favor, the wind was flowing swiftly. My father's business grew. Soon our old home was used for polishing, designing and finishing. We shifted to our new mansion, which was nearby the college. I was feeling melancholic as well as sufficient for leaving this house. I lost my golden age to it. I was leaving behind the old Hailey.
Although it was like a dream to own an apartment in West Bay among all the delegates and authorities. The separate parking lots full of luxurious cars, the fancy modern buildings that appear so bright with lights, and the cheerful vibes that go off at night, unlike our factories and warehouses, which burn at night, the voice of drills and knocks is so shrill, especially when you are overthinking. It is quite similar to voices, which my head hears often. When bills and deadlines come together, our workers lose their nights and sights like we all lose our patience and our lights when hardship strikes on us.
We shine, but we become tough, and we become expensive. Anyway, those 13 minutes of driving feel so long today. Looking at the coastal lines and the beautiful lilac sky merged with blue hues and shining stars, I remember how big it looks from Doha when we lie down on the shore at night. The place where I used to go when I wanted to get off all the load on my heart.
Those 13 minutes passed thankfully. Entering West Bay is a treat to the eyes. The whole street looks like a festival. Our apartment was at a desirable location. My university, "Robert Gordon," was just 21 minutes away. I spent half an hour on my balcony listening to Arabic melodies, which lasted till 10 p.m. I was scared to face the numb streets—not in my new life. I decided to sleep as I had to go shopping tomorrow with my cousin Elena Roosevelt. Luckily, we were going to share this journey.
Jack Harris's POV:
You must be surprised to read this name interrupting your plot, but in order to know Hailey, you must know a little about me.
In fact, I can tell you better about the West Bay, Qatar. everything existing in this country.
I have been alive here since 28 years, lol. I am counting on more even though chances are less as I become a chain smoker often. We are Harrisons; my dad, "Eric Harrison," is a well-known lawyer. We almost know every family in West Bay.
All though I always wanted to become a psychologist, my dad never allowed me to ruin his legacy. Being a psychologist was like being "gay" to him, which was a crime here indeed. My mom, Lyla Harrison, worked as an attorney. I have always been brought up among pistols, glasses, shots,shots ,visitors . Life has never hit me hard yet. I wonder how it feels to have something—to feel something for real. I don't crave attention, but still, my looks attract many temporary admirers. I was blessed with my mother's long deepset brown siren eyes with long eyelashes, hooked nose, and a sharp jaw. My slight dusky skin complements my features. The whole best bay called me a natural charmer indeed.
Hailey Roosevelt's POV:
Emma (Eliana) was standing at our door at 9 a.m. sharp. She was ready. Although she is my cousin on my dad's side, she was still my go-to buddy and savior at family gatherings and boring ceremonies. Elena was as simple and innocent as she looked. Medium-length hair with a slight dusky skin tone and thin, sharp features. I didn't have any doubt.
If I chose the right person to go shopping to, as I noticed her dress was modest and elegant according to the "rule book." It was a red dress that had flares and perfect floor length. I hate the red color.
I got ready. I decided to wear something basic as well as stylish. I wanted to wear something formal, but wearing coats and business suits would be a joke here in 50 degrees. This was the pleasant weather, I swear. I wore a cream-colored flared dress. I applied berry shade and tied my hairs into a bun. I wore heels. The lift was suffocating with the presence of four people. "People here look flashy," Elle murmered into my ears. although that was loud enough. I saw a guy smiling; he looked like an American. I didn't wave, but Elle did. I have no interest to smile like an idiot over lame comments. Yes, she is my sister, but I only say the truth. My eyes rolled on to the next big figure I saw—the chest of a man wearing a black shirt and a grey pendent. then my eyes went up to his face. Here it goes as soon as my gazes moved above his chiseled chest, then torso his hot jawline, and here the treat to my eyes—beautiful eyes as of a deep coffee shade, which flashed with long eyelashes and deepset eyebrows—I controlled myself. I was awestruck. I admit he was handsome, as I don't look upon men so easily.
Note: Hailey hates the elements of bright color and hues that ignite passion for love and understanding. Red looks very beautiful on her, but she can't embrace it; it reminds her of her past.