Missed Flights And First Times

Chapter 1

The clock ticked, and with every turn of its hands, Izhaan's anger grew. His glare burned brighter and his scowl deepened as he stared at the two brothers in front of him, who seemed to be hell-bent on making his life hell.

"Where's Warisha? We need to get going now if we want to catch the flight," the oldest of the two brothers, Waseem, said, looking around the bustling airport in search of his sister.

"I'll go and check." Izhaan offered though his tone didn't really leave room for argument.

Waheed—someone Izhaan had already deemed dumb—didn't catch the death in his tone and countered. "Let me go—"

"I said I'll go," Izhaan repeated himself, staring down at Waheed in silent competition. This was absurd. Why was there competition between his wife's brother and him?

Guess it was story time now. Married two years ago were Warisha and Izhaan, arranged by their two families. After their nikkah, they'd gotten a chance to talk. However, Izhaan could count on one hand how many words Warisha had said to him that night. The girl seemed to have done PhD in nods and hums for replies. Questions? She didn't look like she knew what those were. So, that conversation had went comically where Izhaan had blabbered for all of ten minutes and all Warisha had done was nod and hum, saying one yes throughout.

And he was yet to make eye contact with his wife.

When after the nikkah, she'd gone to the US to complete her education from Stanford, any possible conversations between them had went down the drain. Where hopeful Izhaan had thought his wife might be more lively over text, he'd hoped in vain. She was just the same on text as she was in real. It was why Izhaan Sadiq had spent the better part of the two years wondering if Warisha had been forced into marriage with him.

And when he'd found that Warisha was coming home now, for good, he'd been overjoyed to be the one to get his wife and had jumped headfirst into the idea. Shamelessly, he'd proposed the plan to their parents, saying that he wouldn't mind flying to US to get her and bring her back to Pakistan. But while his parents had been quick to agree, Warisha's parents hadn't been so easy. And the only way they'd agreed to his idea was to send their two elder sons with him.

The two sons that were the bane of his existence and the kabab mein haddiyan.

Yesterday, the three of them had reached US and gone straight to Stanford to get Warisha after her last class of the day and her course. The hazel-eyed, hijabi girl with a small, round face and nose ring had greeted both her brothers with hugs that lasted a whole minute each—Izhaan had been counting while silently fuming, and he was sure he'd heard her squeal too. When it had been time to greet him, her husband, she'd only settled with a rukha sukha nod, folded her hands in front of her and chose to have a staring contest with the ground instead.

Izhaan's smile had never dropped quicker.

On top of the disappointment at Warisha's reply—or lack thereof—there were Waseem and Waheed who seemed to have some enmity cut out for him. When the four of them had taken a cab to go for lunch, Waseem had sat in the front and Waheed had deliberately squeezed himself in the center seat between Warisha and Izhaan. When they'd taken a table at the restaurant, Waheed had sat beside Warisha and Waseem had sat across from her, leaving Izhaan to stare at the table and the food that didn't seem so appealing anymore. And when they'd chosen to spend the night in a hotel before their flight, Izhaan was sure that it was one of the brothers behind why his room was at the opposite end of the hall from Warisha's.

All in all, he was yet to have a proper conversation with his wife of two years and Izhaan was tired of being treated like a non-mehram by the two brothers.