Mannat

12 | Her Henna on his hand

QULSUM

I closed my eyes shut as my body crashed into someone’s hard chest. My nostrils were welcomed with woody scent making me inhale deeply. Heaving my eyelids I tilt my head upwards only to gasp. I bat my eyelids gazing at his deep orbs.

Zayaan eyes peered directly into mine and then he leisurely trailed his eyes all over my face making me shudder internally, his gaze was as powerful as caressing. My stomach churned when he lowered his head and looked at his chest, unintentionally bringing his face a bit closer to mine. My heart was thumping against my ribcage while I gazed at him with my mouth agape.
His finger were wrapped around my hand which was between us.

“Allah” I mutter pulling away from him. I stare at his shirt with wide eyes. His shirt was smeared with my henna. Furrowing my brows I look down at my right hand only to find the henna on my wrist and the side of my palm was smudged.

“I am sorry. I didn’t see you coming.” I said biting my lips.
His eyes gazed down at my lips making me rigid. I slowly release my lips from between my teeth and press them straight. My heart beat was so rapid that I could literally hear it.

"It's okay, I wasn't looking anyway." he replied, scratching the back of his neck. His face slowly turned crimson.

For a second, I stood there, stupidly admiring him, my heart betraying me with every beat.

I clenched my fists and shook my head, forcing myself out of that dangerous haze. I couldn’t afford this; not again.
The garden, their engagement day, our talk replayed mercilessly in my mind. I had promised him and myself — that I wouldn’t allow awkwardness, longing, or unspoken feelings to exist between us. Yet here I was, standing far too close, feeling far too much.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, "Your shirt—I’m really sorry…" I whispered, my apology carrying more weight than he could ever know.

“That’s fine, it was an accident. Can you tell me where is the washroom. I need to clean this and this—” he pointed at his shirt first and then raised his hand to show me he had henna on his hand too.
My henna!

My heart fluttered while my face turned crimson red. Mentally slapping myself I sighed.
“This way...” I said walking ahead of him. After taking a few steps I halted in my track and turned around to face him.

“First of all, what are you doing here? No guys are allowed and you are definitely not allowed.” I ask with raised brows and narrowed eyes.

Amusement flashed across his face while he kept looking at me.

"What?"

"A few days ago," he said lightly, tilting his head, "you were too nervous to even look at me—let alone talk to me."

Heat crept up my neck as he took a small step closer. "And now," he added, a smile tugging at his lips, "you’re trying to intimidate me?"

His eyes softened, mischief dancing in them. "It’s kind of cute."

“I — what?” my voice was clogged in my throat while I batted my eyelids. I was utterly baffled with Zayaan's flirtatious behaviour. How can he speak like that?

Suddenly a thought traversed my mind.

“Wait! I know why you are acting like this. You want to meet Shiza and for that you need my help and hence you are trying to woo me with you charm right?”  I ask tapping my foot with a expression which screamed ‘I know your trick’ plastered all over my face.

I had witnessed this kind of situations in my cousins marriage. The grooms sneak into bride's house at henna party just to take a look at her.

Shaking his head he leaned against the door with his hands crossed in front of his chest. My eyes automatically drifted towards his arms. He had his shirt sleeve rolled up till his elbow leaving the protruding veins in his muscular arms on display.