Dilbar (دلبر) -
Lover
*****
Samaira Baksh has sworn off love. The emotion in itself brought memories that were synonymous with a weak nightmare. For her, love was a forgotten feeling and farthest away from what could be considered...
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*****
Nervous.
For the first time in his 29 years of life, Zaigham Abbasi felt nervous regarding meeting someone- someone who wasn't even a total stranger and it was the same someone for whom his heart sang songs meant only for his ears.
His grandfather had told him of the Baksh family's requests after he had returned. His father though did not look particularly fond of what was happening but then again, when was Rehan Abbasi ever truly satisfied?
There he stood outside the very same cafe they had first had a cup of coffee and cinnamon rolls together. The weather today looked in no mood of having a sudden meltdown but of course, it could not be trusted.
He waited for a good 5 minutes maybe because he showed up 10 minutes earlier to the prior commitment message.
Taking in another nervous breath, he took a seat in the same spot he had said the wrenching words 'to our friendship'. Allah knows the amount of annoyance that had flared within him by his own words.
The bell above chimed, indicating someone's arrival but since the remaining 5 minutes were yet not over, Zaigham did not bother looking up from his fingers that were anxiously tapping the wooden table.
"Ahm, are you sure you're here to meet me and not-"
At an alarming speed, his head whipped in the direction of the oh-so-familiar voice. He would've started a string of apologies if not for the mirth dancing in her eyes. Cracking a small smile at her ridiculously cheesy grin, he got up to greet her only for her to ward him off and take a seat.
"Don't hold me in high regard, Miss. Samaira. I don't just wait for anyone in a cafe."
"Should I be flattered?"
"Nahi, bas dil ka khayal rakh lena."
(No, just be mindful of the heart.)
Samaira blinked at the sober words. It took her a few seconds and another blink to realize that he had just flirted with her and the rush of blood to her cheeks was inevitable. Not wanting to look like a clown, she cleared her throat and ignored his gaze, calling for a waiter.
Like always, a cup of coffee and her famous cinnamon rolls were ordered.
Zaigham too surprisingly ordered the same but not before meeting the teasing gaze of Samaira as though she had been holding a grudge against him after the time he had told her about his lack of affinity towards sweet delicacies.
They sat in silence, enjoying the company of each other, and once in a while, Zaigham made sure to note her expressions and body language to assure himself that she was comfortable in his presence after the happenings of the morning.
"I..."
Zaigham cleared his throat, feeling the same nauseating nervousness rise again at the thought of saying what he had planned to in his mind. It was a long speech to be honest, but now when she sat in front of him, looking relaxed and so at ease, so surreal, he was having a hard time trying to shush his heart to obedience.
