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I was busy scribbling some random thoughts in my diary, the tip of my pen tapping against my forehead absentmindedly. The silence in the room was comforting, until Tahera's voice cut through it.
"Stop hitting the pen on your head, or else your remaining brain will also get damaged," she teased from the doorway, a playful grin on her face.
I looked up, locking eyes with her. My lips curved into a smile. "Oh really, mohtarma?" I raised an eyebrow, my tone light.
Tahera chuckled, her laughter bright and carefree. "I was joking," she said, her eyes twinkling. Then, her tone shifted to something more sincere. "And... yeah, thank you so much for yesterday. It really means a lot."
I gave her a warm smile, something inside me softening. "It’s alright," I replied. "I know how it feels to be alone when you need someone."
Her smile deepened, a quiet understanding between us. "Alright, I have to go to court now. I’ll see you soon. Take care, Allah Hafiz."
"Allah Hafiz," I replied, watching her leave, the weight of unspoken things hanging in the air.
I turned back to my diary, but before I could refocus, my phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up, seeing Farhan’s name flash across the screen.
I answered immediately. "What’s up, Farhan?"
"I’m at the airport, yaar," he said, his voice full of his usual energy. "Come pick me up."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "I’ll be there in fifteen." I ended the call, quickly grabbing my keys and heading out the door.
After picking Farhan up from the airport, we drove back home in silence for a bit. Farhan’s sudden question broke the quiet.
"Khala jaan wants you to get married soon," he said, his voice casual but carrying a serious undertone. "And dadi’s pressurizing her, so she’s asking about wedding plans. What do you think about it?"
I let out a soft laugh, feeling my lips curve into a wry smile. "You know what plans I have in mind," I said, the words light but carrying an unspoken meaning. Farhan, ever the insightful friend, smiled knowingly.
"Oh yeah, I do," he said with a chuckle, clearly understanding.
The evening had settled into a relaxed rhythm. Laughter echoed through the house as Zara playfully complained about not getting ice cream. Ayaan, always the practical one, was trying to reason with her, but Zara wasn’t having it.
"Uff Allah Bhaii, aap mujhe ice cream nahi dila sakte?" she whined dramatically, making all of us chuckle.
Ayaan, with his usual sarcasm, retorted, "Ya Allah, ye ladki kitni ice cream khaogi? Baccha, thand lagjayegi na."
