𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐍 - rewritten | ✓

FIVE

A month has passed since the prince's arrival. Maham prepared breakfast, but she had to prepare a whole different type of breakfast for Zayan using mineral water because when he first came to Pakistan, the water messed with his stomach and he fell sick.

And somehow, Shahnaz found a way to blame Maham yet again.

"Tum! Idhar aao," Shahnaz called Maham who had walked out of the kitchen and was about to go to her room. Maham looked around before walking towards her and was greeted with a slap and gasps from herself and her cousin's sisters.
(You! Come here.)

"Kesa khana banaya hai? Mere Zayan ki tabiyat kharab ho jati hai tumhare is khane se!" She yelled, Maham recovered from the shock and clenched her jaw along with a fist.
(What kind of food is this? My Zayan gets sick from the food you make,)

"Yeh wohi khana hai joh saalon se aap log khate aaye hain," Maham answered, keeping her voice low because she was starting to lose her temper.
(This is the kind of food that you have eaten for years.)

"Tumne kya dekha nahi hai Zayan mineral water peeta hai? us paani se khana banaya karo!" Shahnaz yelled.
(Have you not seen that Zayan drinks mineral water? Make food with that water!)

Are you serious? "Ab mai mineral water kaha se laon?" Maham asked, her voice raising and frustrated. She said 'mineral water' in a fake accent, unknowingly mocking Shahnaz, and that made her cousins snicker.
(And where do I get mineral water from?)

"Zaban chala rahi ho?" Shahnaz asked, raising a hand.
(Are you talking back?)

"Ammi!" Zayan yelled, walking down and she stopped before it could strike Maham. "Kya hogaya hai? Us bechari ko kya pata? Maine isliye usko nahi kaha kyun keh itne saalon baad apne shaher ka khana kha raha hoon. Bila wajah uspe ilzaam laga rahi hain."
(Mom! What has happened? How would the poor girl know? I didn't say anything because I was eating my home city's food after so many years. Accusing her without any reason.)

Everyone stared in shock, including Maham, at him defending her. 

"Nahi, mai to-" Shahnaz spoke but Zayan cut her off.
(No, I was-)

"Chorein, bhet jaien," He sighed, and then those brown eyes met green. "Maafi chahta hoon." He said, a bit awkwardly before sitting down.
(Forget it, sit down. I apologize.)

Maham blinked out of shock, did he just apologize? It had been years -- forever -- since she heard that word. She turned around and slowly walked up to her room.

Maham snapped out of the memory and continued with breakfast. She set the table where everyone was seated. The table was filled with various traditional Pakistani breakfasts. Eggs, parathas, halwa puri, chai, chane ka salan, leftover nihari with fried tandoori, and whatnot.

But one person on that table had a different type of breakfast in front of him. Eggs, toast, halal sausages, tomatoes, and baked beans. 

"Angrez," Maham muttered under her breath as she kept Zayan's plate in front of him unaware that he heard.
(British,)

She left to go inside the kitchen and sat on the counter, eating her breakfast alone while moving her legs back and forth childishly. Zayan did seem like an Englishman, ever since he came here she had never seen him wearing traditional clothes. Always in Western clothes, and she noticed how sometimes he would accidentally add English words into Urdu sentences. 

She grabbed her teacup and sipped on it, lost in deep thoughts about her eldest cousin. 

He had changed a lot. When he left, he was shaved, and had masculine features but over the years they sharpened. His jaw became more chiseled and held a stubble, his cheeks became more hollow. And he was tall. So tall. Towering over her -- towering over everyone. She had to tilt her head up to look at him, to hold eye contact with those hazel eyes. Eyes that held colors like his coffee.

━━━━━━━

Zayan couldn't sleep a blink because of jet lag and a certain green-eyed girl occupying his mind. He stood up, walking towards the window. He leaned against the frame and looked up at the moon who would occasionally hide behind the clouds, blushing from his darkened gaze.

He felt unfamiliar in his home country. Everything felt unfamiliar. Even the taste of the water. He disliked how his home country's water made him sick. He wasn't blaming the country, no. Himself, wished he had visited more.

Visited and breathed in the air, explore the beauty of Lahore, and ate more delicious food of his culture. He felt left out when he would see his family eating heavy foods for breakfast and he would be stuck with bland food.

A quiet chuckle left him when he remembered how his youngest cousin called him 'Angrez' it had slightly offended him at first but it was true and funny.

He felt his throat getting dry when he thought of Maham and decided to go downstairs to the kitchen. He froze by the kitchen door hearing the familiar song that used to play on his dadi's radio before she died.

He looked up and saw Maham singing along the music, moving her hips and slightly dancing while cleaning the kitchen. This was her time. Where she could finally have fun and time to herself while cleaning. She loved night time.

A smile covered his lips and he leaned against the doorframe watching. 

Aye meri zohra jabeen
Tujhe maloom nahi
Tu abhi tak hai haseen
Aur main jawan

She threw her head back, quietly singing and shaking her head while her eyes were closed. His eyes slightly widened, he discovered a new side of her. A side no one has saw. Her fun side. And technically she didn't allow him to see her that way, he felt as if he was intruding but he couldn't stop.

He let out a silent laugh watching her unprofessionally dance -- more like vibe to the song. He knew she heard it from the same source. Their grandmother.

Feeling eyes, Maham froze. She turned around and saw no one. She shrugged and turned back around, continuing to dance and clean unaware of the tall figure hiding behind the wall.