A Piece Of His Heart

Thirty-seven

Eliza

He looked hot.

So, so hot. Masha Allah.

And I think I'd put myself in a little bit of a pickle by asking— more like demanding— him to wear a shalwar kameez because it was Friday and the dawaat too.

And Waleed had gone and worn a black kurta out of everything he could choose. Not just that, he'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, and sprayed on an ittar that made my senses go haywire.

Frankly, I wanted to grab him by the collar of that black kurta and kiss him senseless. Damn him. Damn him for wearing it when our parents were coming over and I couldn't stop eyeing him like he was the full-course meal.

"What?" He slid me a side look as he fixed the same collar I was imagining grabbing him by. I was sure he was just doing it on purpose now, torturing me until I couldn't think of anything else but him and then embarrassing myself in front of my family— his and mine both.

"You look hot." I told him right away as I dabbed blush on my cheeks and moved back, admiring my work of makeup. Waleed blinked at me before he laughed unexpectedly, surprising us both I think.

"You think I do?"

A woman complimenting her man was seriously underrated.

I traced his collar with my fingers, resisting the urge to kiss him like I wanted. I'd just put on my lipstick, and I had a hunch the kiss wouldn't end too prettily. "Yes, you do. You look like the man straight out of my dreams."

"Are you trying to hint that you dream of me?" His eyes glinted as he said it, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Oh, boy. I loved him so damn much.

I leaned in closer to him, smirking right back at him as I pulled him down by his collar, our noses touching. "Why do I need to dream of you when I have you right here, all to myself?" Then I sagged a little when I remembered he was leaving soon, in two days, on Sunday.

And he must've seen the fleeting sadness on my face because he smiled and brushed my hair away from my face, tucking them behind my ear. "You know you're welcome to come with me to Lahore, right?"

I knew it. He'd offered it every time the topic was brought up. But, as hectic as work was and as exhausted as I was when the week ended, I couldn't just leave because I did have a job and I needed to be consistent. There was no way I could ask for a leave for who knows how many days just after two days of working.

Even if my husband was the boss.

"You know I can't. Yes, I'll miss you like hell but it's okay." I patted his chest and stepped back, taking one last look at myself in the mirror.

I'd chosen black, too, to match with Waleed. The shirt was plain and ended on my calves with golden lace on the neckline, border and sleeves. With it was a red dupatta lined with the same gold lace and sequins. Not too over-the-top and not too simple. It didn't fit as well as it did when I'd first gotten it, but it was pretty even if it was a little snug. And I was filled with satisfaction every time I saw his eyes rake over me.

"Bohat pyari lag rahi ho." He said and kissed the side of my head as we descended the stairs. I mumbled a 'thank you' back and went into the kitchen. I was a little ashamed to say that I hadn't done much. Anything that was simple enough for me to make or at least I'd made it before, like gajar ki kheer, was made by me but the main dishes— chicken karahi, biryani, and even nihari because Uncle liked it— were ordered from outside. At least I could say that I'd fried the kebabs myself. Waleed's contribution only went as far as cutting the vegetables for the salad, during which he'd nearly chopped off his fingers four times but refused to let me do it. Thank God he'd come out of it unscathed.

The bell rang while I set the plates up on the table. Of course, we wouldn't be eating the minute everyone arrived but I wanted to be prepared. Ammi would shed a tear or two at seeing me being responsible. As I headed to the door, Waleed nodded at me with a smile and opened the door to bring in my in-laws. Aunty engulfed me in a big, motherly hug and complimented how I looked as she kissed my cheek. Then she complimented how well I'd managed the house once she got a good look around.

I was serious when I said I loved her.

I grinned when Shifa hugged me. There were only a handful of times I'd seen her in traditional clothes, just like her brother, but I liked how she'd picked out a shalwar kameez for today in blue, purple and pink.

Asad Uncle was just as warm as Aunty as he gave Waleed and I his blessings. He didn't say much but there was a serene, satisfied look on his face as he looked around, his eyes stopping on Waleed the crinkling at the edges as he smiled at me. By his face alone, I could see how proud and content he was of Waleed and where in life he was now. I figured he was more tolerable now that he wasn't so grouchy and the biggest workaholic the country had ever known.

Just shortly after everyone settled in, my parents and brother arrived, too, where I had to stand to the side as Waleed greeted them and everyone greeted each other. Though I did smack Aaban in the shoulder when he struggled to pick his jaw up from the floor as he took in the house.

"You live in such a nice house, let me stare." He whispered, causing me to glare at him then plaster on a sweet smile as Waleed came to us and bumped fists with Aaban before leading us all inside with his hand on my back.

"I'll tell you all that the main courses are ordered from a restaurant." I figured I'd say it myself rather than having to get embarrassed later on when someone found out by themselves.

Shazia Aunty chuckled as she patted my back from where we sat together. "Oh, don't worry about that at all. I myself only learned to cook properly once Waleed was three." She turned to my mother with a smile. "Right, Najma?"

My mother grinned. "Yes, and you used to ask me for recipes all day."

What?

They had... known each other? I remembered Shazia Aunty telling her brother that I was the daughter of her friend but I'd thought that she'd said it only to save the situation. And it didn't seem like news to anyone else, like they'd all already known about it.

I had thought our families had met because of that aunty. My head was spinning, literally spinning as I processed the information. If they'd known each other when Waleed was three... I was three years younger than him, too.

What the hell was going on?

Confused, shocked, and quite uncomfortable, I looked at Waleed who didn't meet my eyes as he quickly said, "Eliza and I will bring out the food," and headed to the kitchen, leaving me to follow silently as I tried to wrap my head around it.

I was hurt, feeling a little betrayed too. And I felt like an idiot— I was made to feel like an idiot.

"Our mothers were friends?" I asked quietly as I took the rice out into a dish.

What if Waleed and I had known each other too? For how long, if we did? And why could I not remember it? It was like I'd hit my head somewhere and lost my memory without knowing it.

"Maybe, I'm not sure." He replied, but still didn't look at me as he said so.

"You're not... lying, are you?" I couldn't help how small my voice came out. The idea that the man who I thought had been a stranger when I first met him could've been someone from my past... Did he not remember either, if he'd known me? Why didn't he ever bring it up then?

He sighed and walked past me, bowl in hand. "I'm not lying, Eliza."

With everything I had, I hoped he wasn't lying.

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(A.N): Ammis messed things up oops.

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