Enwrapped

Chapter 07

"That's...not funny!" Saboor mumbled but laughed anyway.

Stifling her laughter as he tried to read yet another flop science joke, she unplugged one of her ear pods and tried to check if someone just knocked at the door. She stood up from the comfort of her bed, phone in hand, and walked to the door. After opening it, peeking outside, and closing it once again, she realized it was already one in the morning.

"You there?" Muzammil asked, halting the game.

"Yeah, yeah. I was just checking if there was someone outside," she replied cautiously, mindful not to speak too loudly. One of the problems of talking on the phone was that she never realized when her voice became loud enough for others to hear; she felt like she was conversing in reality, and her voice just didn't feel the need to adjust.

"I didn't even realize...it's one in the night..." he spoke over the call.

"Me too," she answered.

"Go to sleep, hm? You have work in the morning," he said, and bid her a good night. Saboor hung up the call and lazily slumped onto her bed.

Gosh, I am tired with all the smiling.

But it was a genuine smile after all, and that made Saboor happy from within. She had never laughed so much in years, not even when she was in college. It was like she was experiencing a whole new side of life, like she had put on rose-coloured glasses.

~

Morning arrived sooner than expected. Saboor woke up with a throbbing headache, and because she could not do much about it, decided to take a little pill before heading to work. Muzammil too, forced himself out of bed, not before sending a message.

Muzammil: How can people be night owls? Good morning.

Saboor chcukled looking at the message. She imagined him lazily traipsing about the room in his night clothes...goodness, better not think about that.

Saboor: Good morning to you too! And yes, night owls exist, it's just that the world isn't ready to accept them. We both were night owls once...back in college.

Muzammil mumbled a good morning to his mother, but his eyes were still glued to the phone.

"What are you doing?!" his mother half-scolded as she almost toppled down a dish from the counter.

Muzammil: Oh, please, don't remind me of that phase. I will never ever miss it.

Muzammil: Are you at home?

Saboor: No, I am at the restaurant.

He glanced shockingly at the timepiece hanging on the wall.

"Mama, I am late!"

~

Saboor carefully pinned her pallo to the side, making sure it covered her torso fully. Then, looking in the mirror, she adjusted the saree once again. A plain blouse covered her torso and the full length of her arms. The patterned blue saree flowed somewhere and pinned elsewhere, matched the blouse well. It was made of tussar silk, and though pricey, was comfortable and elegant.

Placing an artificial gold necklace over her collarbones, she carefully clasped it. Once done, she walked over to her father's room, where he had still not decided what to wear.

"Abbu, aren't you coming with us?" she mused, and opened his closet, revealing a plethora of pale and pastel shades of shirts. She sorted through the colours, feeling the textures.