The Solicitor's Secret
"Hina is a high-powered solicitor by day and anonymous agony aunt by night. When her mysterious online correspondent turns out to be Amir, the barrister she's been battling in court, their verbal sparring takes an intimate turn."
The Solicitor's Secret
By day, Hina Chaudhry was the most feared solicitor at Morrison & Khan LLP. Her win rate was legendary. Her cross-examinations made witnesses weep. Her opposing counsel had nightmares about her closing arguments.
By night, she was DesiDilSays—anonymous agony aunt on the UK's most popular Pakistani forum, dispensing relationship advice to the lovelorn masses.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
SirfTumhare: You won't believe what happened in court today. There's this solicitor—absolutely infuriating—who made me look like an idiot in front of the judge.
DesiDilSays: Let me guess. She was right and you can't handle it?
SirfTumhare: She was RIGHT but she didn't have to be so smug about it. She had this smile, you know? Like she was enjoying my suffering.
DesiDilSays: I think I like her already.
SirfTumhare: You would. You're both probably the same person. Terrifyingly competent women who enjoy watching men squirm.
DesiDilSays: Thank you ❤️
Hina didn't know why she'd started messaging SirfTumhare privately. He'd started as just another forum member, but somewhere between discussing work stress and Bollywood movies, he'd become her closest confidant.
He was smart. Funny. Understood the specific pressure of being Pakistani and professional in Britain.
And he had no idea who she was.
SirfTumhare: Can I admit something?
DesiDilSays: You're secretly three raccoons in a trench coat?
SirfTumhare: Worse. I think I'm falling for you. Whoever you are.
Hina stared at her phone. Her heart hammered.
DesiDilSays: That's not worse. That's just terrifying.
SirfTumhare: So you feel it too?
She should end this. They were anonymous. This wasn't real.
DesiDilSays: ...Maybe.
SirfTumhare: Then meet me. Tomorrow. 7pm. The lobby of the Royal Courts of Justice. I'll be holding a copy of "Pakistani cooking for Beginners."
DesiDilSays: Why that book?
SirfTumhare: Because I can't cook and it seemed funny.
The next evening, Hina stood in the lobby of the Royal Courts, her heart in her throat.
She scanned the crowd, looking for someone holding the cookbook, and then—
No.
Absolutely not.
Amir Syed. Barrister. Nemesis. The man she'd humiliated in court yesterday was standing twenty feet away, holding Pakistani Cooking for Beginners and looking around expectantly.
Hina turned to flee.
"Chaudhry?"
Too late.
"This isn't happening." Hina was pacing his chambers, having been dragged there after a very public standoff that had the court guards concerned. "You cannot be SirfTumhare."
"And you cannot be DesiDilSays." Amir ran his hands through his hair. "The woman who told me my opposing counsel was probably brilliant and I should respect her more?"
"The man who said his courtroom rival had 'legs that went on forever' and a mind sharper than any Queen's Counsel?"
They stared at each other.
"I hate you," Hina said.
"I know." He moved closer. "I hate you too."
"You're insufferable."
"You're terrifying." Another step. "And brilliant. And I've been falling for you twice over—once in court and once online."
"Amir—"
"Tell me I'm wrong." He was right in front of her now. "Tell me you haven't thought about this. About us."
She should say no. Should cite professional ethics, conflict of interest, a hundred reasons this was a terrible idea.
"I've thought about it," she admitted. "Every time you open your stupid, brilliant mouth in court."
His kiss was like his arguments—devastating and thorough.
They didn't make it out of his chambers.
Amir lifted her onto his desk, scattering case files everywhere. His wig and robes were thrown aside as she pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel skin.
"Meri jaan," he groaned as she wrapped her legs around him. "I've imagined this so many times. You, in my chambers, coming apart for me."
"Stop talking and make it happen."
He did.
His hands hiked her skirt up as his mouth claimed her neck. When his fingers found her, already wet through her underwear, he swore.
"You're perfect," he breathed, stroking her. "So responsive. So mine."
"Not yours yet."
"No?" He dropped to his knees, pulling her underwear down with his teeth. "Let me convince you."
His mouth on her made Hina see stars. He was as skilled here as he was in court—relentless, strategic, knowing exactly when to push and when to retreat. When she came on his tongue, she had to bite her hand to keep from screaming.
"Now," she gasped, pulling him up. "I need you now."
Amir entered her with a single thrust, and they both moaned at the sensation. He set a punishing rhythm, one hand braced on the desk, the other tilting her face up.
"Look at me," he demanded. "Look at me when I make you come again."
"I hate you," she gasped.
"I know. I love it." His thumb found her clit. "I love you."
She shattered, and he followed, her name echoing off the wood-paneled walls.
"The Legal 500 is going to have a field day," Hina said afterward, lying on his very uncomfortable chambers floor. "Top solicitor and barrister in secret affair."
"Secret?" Amir propped himself up. "Who said anything about secret? I plan to take you to dinner tomorrow. Very public. Followed by meeting my mother, who's going to adore you because you're a lawyer and she's given up on me finding anyone."
"We're on opposing sides of a case!"
"The Mirza case settles next week. I already know we're going to lose—your discovery was brutal." He kissed her. "After that, we're free. And I intend to pursue you properly."
"I don't need pursuing. I'm not prey."
"No, you're the predator." His grin was wicked. "And I'm very happily caught."
The legal community buzzed for months about the wedding—held, fittingly, at the Inns of Court. The bride's cross-examination of the groom's vows made the judge/officiant weep with laughter.
DesiDilSays and SirfTumhare never posted again, but legend has it they still argued every case—just from the same side of the bed.