CONNECTED HEARTS

9: "Love on the Menu"

Kaltoom's POV

I finished my prayers and headed downstairs to grab a snack, but my mind kept wandering back to the call I had to make to Mr. Ego. Laila had conveniently saved his number in my phone, and I begrudgingly dialed it, hesitating over whether to actually call or not. What would I even say? I wasn't exactly thrilled about this whole situation. Just as I was about to give up, I dropped the phone on my bed and decided to grab some cookies and water instead.

But before I could even sit down, my phone started ringing. To my surprise, it was none other than Mr. Ego himself. Guess fate had other plans.

I wasn't ready, but there was no escaping now. I picked up, took a deep breath, and sat cross-legged on my bed like some monk. Clearing my throat, I forced my voice to sound calm.
"As-salam Alaikum," I greeted, remembering Ammi's advice to always start with salam. His reply came smooth, low, and calm: "Wa-alaikumus salam." I hated to admit it, but his voice was soothing, almost too soothing. The line went quiet for a moment until he broke it with a tone laced with expectation:
"You could have at least called to check if I reached home safely?"

Seriously? I rolled my eyes. Why would I? We're not dating.
Out loud, I snapped lightly, "Well, I didn't feel the need to. I'm pretty sure your attitude can take you home safely."

He went silent for a beat before saying, "Alright then, good—"

I cut him off. "Uhm, thanks for the stuff. Ammi said to tell you that."

All I got back was a hum. And then click. He hung up. Just like that. I stared at my phone in disbelief.
"Seriously? How rude! I'm never calling this guy again. Sorry, Laila, but nope." My mood was instantly ruined.

I crunched angrily on my cookies, blaming the poor things for my frustration, then stomped off to the kitchen in search of comfort food. The parlor was empty  Ammi must've been in her room. Opening the warmers, the aroma of chicken curry hit me like heaven. My stomach growled. Then I spotted coconut rice in another warmer my favorite.
"Oh my Allah, I love Ammi so much!" I whispered dramatically to myself.

I piled up a plate, heavier on the curry than the rice, grabbed a pack of fruit juice, and walked to the dining area. But then..
"Subhanallahi! Yaya, you scared me!" I almost dropped my plate.

There was Yaya Farouk, sitting with his legs crossed, looking worn out.
"When did you get here?" I asked, still catching my breath.
"A minute ago. Where's Ammi? When did you get back? Sorry I couldn't pick you up I was stuck with work," he rattled, running a hand through his curls.

I answered quickly and sat to eat, calling the cook to serve him too. Soon Ammi joined us, and we ate together, chatting until my eyes grew heavy. I said goodnight, retreated to my room, prayed Isha, breezed through my night routine, and collapsed into bed. Within minutes, I was out cold the exhausting drama of Mr. Ego had drained every bit of energy from me.

⸻

Adyan's POV

Adyan tossed and turned, restless. His mind wouldn't quit. The thought of being tied down to Kaltoom when his heart was already set on Humaira felt suffocating. His family loved Kaltoom, Mom adored her, Dad respected her father, and even his sisters were fans. Laila was obsessed with the idea, Khairiya liked her too. Adyan felt cornered.

But none of that mattered right now. All he wanted was Humaira. Her voice. Her softness. Her calm. It was past 9 p.m., but he couldn't resist anymore. Would she even answer? Would it be too late?

He dialed her number straight to "busy." He sighed, waited, then tried again ten minutes later. This time, after three rings, she picked up.
"Hello, as-salam Alaikum... who is it?" her soft voice floated through the speaker.

Adyan's heart skipped.
"Wa-alaikumus salam... is this Aisha Humaira?"

She confirmed, and just like that, his nervousness melted away. He reminded her of their meeting last week, and she responded with a shy little "ouuuu." They talked easily she was staying with her sister at Unguwan Rimi GRA, her hometown was Katsina. She was gentle, shy, almost the complete opposite of Kaltoom. Before they said goodnight, she quietly agreed to be his friend.

Adyan hung up smiling, lighter than he'd felt in weeks. Sleep finally came, sweet and hopeful.

⸻

Four days later

Four whole days had passed since his awkward date with Kaltoom, and neither of them had bothered reaching out. With just a week left of his break, Adyan was content minding his own business. That Saturday, he woke up late, lazed around, prayed Subhi, and went back to sleep.

When he finally came down, the shock hit him: his entire family was dressed to the nines.
"Uh, what's going on?"

"We're having lunch at Kabir Humaydh's," Khairiya announced casually, popping him a wink.

Adyan nearly choked on the apple he had just bitten.
"What?! Why?!"

His mom cut him short. "What do you mean 'why'? Get ready in five minutes you'll drive us there."

"Moooom... what about the drivers? I don't want to go, sorry.."

"I didn't ask for your opinion. Three minutes gone. Two left." Her tone was final.

The sisters knew better than to stick around, so they scurried out to the garden, leaving Adyan fuming. But he wasn't the type to argue with Mom. With a long, sulky face, he dragged himself upstairs to change.

He dressed in a clean ash-colored kaftan, matched with his wristwatch, Gucci cover shoes, and a Zanna Bukar cap. A spritz of perfume, a dab of oil perfect, annoyingly perfect. He looked like a groom being dragged to his own wedding.

As soon as he descended, his mom shot up, ready to leave. Laila was giggling but swallowed it down after one sharp glance from Mom.
"Can I at least grab a coffee? I'm starving," Adyan pouted.

His mom nodded curtly, eyes flicking back to Laila, who smirked but said nothing.

⸻

"Welcome, please make yourselves comfortable," Mrs. Fatima said warmly, glowing as the Salmans arrived. While refreshments were passed, Farouk pulled Adyan aside, noticing his unease.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Salman asked, "Where's my daughter? I haven't seen her yet."

Mrs. Fatima sent the maid, and Laila tagged along.

The moment she entered Kaltoom's room, both girls squealed, hugging tightly. Kaltoom looked stunning in Ankara, her flare skirt and blouse vibrant, but she struggled with her headgear.
"My brother is so lucky honestly, you're always glowing," Laila teased.

Kaltoom shot her a glare, but Laila laughed and tied her gear for her. Hand in hand, they walked downstairs.

Mrs. Salman lit up on seeing Kaltoom, showering her with praise until Kaltoom's cheeks burned. Kaltoom couldn't help but wonder how was Adyan related to such a fun, warm family when he was Mr. Grumpy himself?

At the dining table, laughter flowed. Both dads were absent, but the moms quickly agreed they'd "stand in for them." After the delicious meal, Mrs. Salman casually dropped the bomb:
"We'll make it official once the men return."

Kaltoom's spoon froze midair. Adyan almost choked.

"We can't let it look like haram, can we?" Mrs. Salman added firmly, her faith guiding her words.

Everyone nodded along, smiling. Everyone except Adyan and Kaltoom, who stared at each other in shared misery.

Before the Salmans left, Mrs. Salman even handed Kaltoom gifts, sealing the "happy family" vibe.

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