Azmaish-e-Ishq

Ch. 1: Blue Butterfly Latte

Author's Note

Assalamwalaikum! Please enjoy the first chapter of this new story. We meet all three leads in this chapter. Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Lots of love ❣️

Heer's P.O.V.

"Amazing coffee shop, Heer!"

"Thanks!"

"I'll definitely be coming back for another latte!"

"Please do!"

"Make sure to reserve that table in the corner for me. This place is the perfect spot to get some work done."

"Hahaha, you got it!"

Hayat—my very own coffee shop!

We were at the grand opening for my dream café in Manchester. With Baba's very, very generous investment and some of my savings from working throughout high school and college, I was finally able to open Hayat at 22.

The name 'Hayat' was in honor of my parents, but particularly Anne ('Mom' in Turkish, pronounced 'un-neh'). My Baba, Imran Qureshi often calls Anne, Halima Qureshi, 'hayatim,' which means 'my life' in Turkish. Baba is fully Pakistani while Anne is fully Turkish, making me, their only child, half and half. Baba left Pakistan to go to university in Istanbul, which is where he met Anne and they both fell madly in love. Anne's parents didn't approve of their relationship since they already had selected a suitor for her and because Baba wasn't Turkish, but Anne only wanted to marry my father, so she did. They unfortunately disowned her after. Following their nikkah, Anne and Baba settled in Pakistan for a bit where my paternal grandparents welcomed her with open arms. She embraced the culture to such an extent that she's fluent in Urdu and taught it to me alongside Baba. Meanwhile, the only things she's made known to me about my Turkish heritage is the yummy food and some Turkish words.

After starting his own manufacturing business in Pakistan, Baba and Anne moved to Manchester to open another factory. I was born not too long after they shifted here.

Baba caressed my head with a grin, "Well done, beta. The place looks awesome."

"Aww, tatlım (my sweetie)! I'm so proud of you." Anne squealed.

"As are we, dear. Amazing job. And we expected no less from you, beta." Rashid Uncle smiled.

"Yes, Heer! We are so so proud, meri bachi (my child). The drinks are so delicious! What was in that pink drink?!" Aiza Ami enthused.

"Thank you everyone! And oh, there was acai, strawberr-

"Wait, where's Salaar?"

We all looked around until a pair of footsteps grew louder before an arm slung around my shoulders, "Right here."

Salaar Riaz, my best friend and next-door neighbor since we have been in diapers. He was just a few months older than me. We grew up together, going to the same school and college. We knew everything about each other, whether it be how many chemistry quizzes I had failed to how many times he's been stopped by the police for speeding. To others, he can appear to be a quiet and formal man, but with me, he was a fun-loving and silly guy. I've often heard girls rave over him and his hazel eyes, including Haniya, my other closest friend who never fails to remind me how lucky I am to be best friends with Salaar because of how handsome she finds him. People often mistake us to be dating, but he and I were far from it. We would laugh it off every time. We hadn't ever considered each other in that way.

Our families were extremely close too. We were regulars at each other's houses. His parents were like my second parents. Baba and Anne treated Salaar and his older sister Seher Api no less than they treat me and it was vice versa with Rashid Uncle and Aiza Aunty, or Aiza Ami as I call her. When Salaar and I were babies, we somehow began addressing each other's mothers using 'Ami' and 'Anne,' so his mom became my Aiza Ami while my mother was his Halima Anne.