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I woke up to the sound of metal clattering against metal, followed by a muffled curse. My brows furrowed as I sat up, squinting in the early morning light. Shahzain was nowhere in the room, but the noise from downstairs made me more curious than concerned.
Rubbing my eyes, I slid out of bed and threw on my dupatta, padding toward the source of the commotion. The closer I got to the kitchen, the stronger the smell of something sweet — and burnt — became. I paused for a second at the doorway, not sure if I was prepared for what I might see.
As soon as I stepped inside, my jaw dropped. The kitchen was a complete disaster zone. Flour covered every surface, as if someone had tossed it into the air and let it settle wherever it liked. Bowls, spatulas, and measuring cups were scattered across the counter, some smeared with chocolate, others coated in what I could only guess was batter. The oven door hung slightly open, and right in the center of the beautiful chaos stood Shahzain—and Muffin, our cat—both dusted in flour.
I blinked, unable to stop the small laugh bubbling in my chest. He turned to me, his face a mix of pride and pure guilt, holding a lopsided, flour-covered cake that looked like it had barely survived the battle. He was wearing an apron — though it wasn’t doing much to protect his clothes, which were just as messy as the kitchen.
“What... what is this?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of my voice.
His eyes darted from me to the cake and back again, and he offered a sheepish smile. “I, uh… Happy Birthday?”
Birthday? It took a second to sink in. Oh. Right. It was my birthday.
“You tried to bake a cake for me?” I couldn’t hide the warmth creeping into my tone, even though I was standing in the middle of what looked like a flour bomb site.
Shahzain nodded, glancing back at the cake. “Yeah... I thought it would be a nice surprise. But clearly, I missed something along the way.”
I looked at the cake again — a bit uneven, with some areas puffier than others, and slightly singed at the edges. Yet, despite its imperfections, it was the sweetest thing he had ever done. My heart softened. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had tried to do something like this for me.
“You think?” he asked, looking more amused now as he handed me the knife.
I smiled, feeling a surge of affection I hadn’t expected. “Let’s see how it tastes.”
The knife slid through the cake surprisingly smoothly, though it wobbled a little when I lifted the first slice. Shahzain lit a small candle he had found, sticking it in the middle of the slice, his expression suddenly growing serious.
