Mohabbatein - A Farmeed Fanfic

Chapter 15

Farjaad made his way down the stairs, almost stumbling in his rush to leave the house, when he heard his mom, "Farjaad baby, araam se! Kahaan jaarahe ho itni jaldbaazi mein?" 

He slowed his pace and went up to her, she had just come out of the living room, "Maa, woh bass aaj party hai toh venue hi jaa raha tha." She looked at him, concerned, "Waise tum din ba din Umeed jaise hote jaarahe ho, itni speed se kaun neeche aata hai?" Farjaad wanted to smile even though he knew his mother didn't exactly mean that as a compliment. However, to him, to be like Umeed, to personify even a fraction of who she was, was praise of the highest order. 

Hugging her sideways, he tried to dodge her observation, "Chorhein na maa, bass deir ho rahi thi thorhi." She glanced at the clock on the wall, "Sirf 5 bajj rahe hain, isn't the event at 7? Abhi toh bahot time hai aur what is this party? Aaj se pehle toh tumne kabhi apne kisi bhi investment ya business venture ke liye parties nahi organize ki hain." 

He shook his head, fixing his hair in the mirror in the hall, "Well, aap toh rakhti thi na iss tarah ke celebrations, just took a page from your book." His mom didn't know how to respond to that, it was true. She always threw parties for Farjaad and his dad, made sure they had a relationship with their associates outside of work. Farjaad kissed her cheek, Niggo was not expecting that, "Trust me, maa." He walked out, almost a skip in his step, and if his mother was concerned or afraid, she tried her best not to show it. 

Farjaad had conveniently left out the part about how he was going to see Umeed first, pick her up and reach with her. He had already gone to the venue early in the day, spoken to the event coordinator multiple times, and confirmed the menu. He just wanted to spend some time with her, which he had been doing a lot of the past couple of days. 

So much so in fact that Umeed had shoved her extra room key into his wallet, declaring, "Har waqt aajaate hain, baar baar darwaaza kholne mein aalas aati hai mujhe. Khud hi andar aaya karein, naukar nahi hoon mai aapki." She had jutted her chin out that one way she does, her eyes mid-roll, as if this was the gravest inconvenience ever to her. They both knew it was her way of telling him that he could come anytime. 

It had taken him ages to decide what to wear, he had called Umeed multiple times, "Will blue go with your outfit?" and then, when she told him to just tell her what colour he is wearing and she would figure the rest out, he called her every few minutes, "Actually, grey?" "Or pinstripes?" 

Until she had threatened to block him. 

He had eventually settled on the safest option, black. All black. He had decided to forego his usual formal tie and to leave the first two buttons of his shirt open, he was trying to look charming, welcoming, whatever he thought hosts were supposed to look like. 

Umeed struggled to drape the saree she had so excitedly spent a bombshell on. The pure silk slipped between her fingers as she tried for the millionth time to make sense of what the lady in the YouTube video was saying. She remembered a photo of her mother wearing a similar gold saree glistening like the sun, effortlessly. She was holding on to Umeed, who was old enough to walk but never wanted to leave her mother's arms. 

She had hunted and hunted for a similar saree, hoping to emulate even a quarter of the class and grace her mother did. She was failing miserably. "Ya Allah," she sighed, the saree coming undone, again. She didn't know how her mother was able to hold an entire child the whole time and still keep every pleat in place. 

After hours of trying, she was finally able to get somewhere. At the very least, she felt like the fabric was secure, more or less. She turned around to get a full look of herself in the mirror, her blouse was gold too, sleeves till her wrists, matching her saree.