𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙚, pedri

❝ every time you smile, i smile. ❞
⇄ ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹ ↻

Olive comes back into the room to call me, saying it's time to start meeting the family. And suddenly, now, I feel my heart beating faster than ever and about to rip out of my chest.

"Move it!" She hisses as I stay laid down on the bed, freaking out in my head. I'm not sure how but she notices my pressure. "What's wrong?" She questions.

"Nothing. Let's do this." I know how stressed she is on her own about this. I'm not going to do anything to add onto it.

I stand up, putting on my slides and grabbing the shirt I left out to put on. I pull it over my head and follow Liv behind.

She doesn't move though. "You said it yourself, It's just a little plain, white, lie. Don't stress over it." She comforts me in return of earlier. Roles can be reversed so easily and quickly at times.

I take a breath and smile, nodding. What's the worst that can happen anyway, right? She slips her tiny hand in mine and drags me downstairs.

Despite her anxiousness, she's still really excited. I can only imagine. She loves her family to death and hasn't seen them in almost a year. She's bound to miss them.

We make our way down the stairs, pass the living room and head to the kitchen where her mother should be.

Entering, I see the back of a rather older brunette woman, standing over the stove. "Mama?" Olive calls out.

She spins around immediately a huge smile playing on her face, seeing her daughter again. "Habibi! (My love!)" Her voice is warm and comforting, just like you would imagine a mother's voice.

Liv lets go of my hand and rushes to hug her mom. I find myself with a small smile growing on my face as I watch Olive unleash herself and let her guard down a bit.

They hug for a good couple of seconds while I stand further behind, mostly awkwardly. I keep myself distracted and look around the kitchen.

I'm captivated by its vibrant colors and intricate patterns. The mix of wooden and stone elements creates a cozy yet elegant ambiance.

The sight of copper cookware and Arabic calligraphy adds a traditional touch with the hanging lamp which is casting a warm glow.

The kitchen is a blend of functionality and cultural charm. It's really pretty. In a way, you could just know it's an Arab's kitchen from the decor.

"Mhm..." Olive clears her throat as I apparently get too distracted by the ambiance of the small kitchen. "Mom, this is Pedri." She introduces, as she stands next to her and points at me. "My boyfriend." She adds, confidently.

I put on a smile, ignoring the sensation in my stomach at the simple two words of Olive. "Hello Mrs. El He-" I get cut off by the woman.

"Ya rabbe, kenet natretak! Inqazet bente! Bechekrak! Chou b7ebak! Aanjad chou b7eb- (Oh my God, I was waiting for you! You saved my little girl! I thank you! I love you so much! Really I lo-)" She now gets cut off by Olive after I ask for help with my eyes.

"English, mom." She reminds her.

"Ah eh. (Oh, yeah.)" She giggles. Olive doesn't take much after her mother. Only the dimples. Her mother's hair is much clearer, her eyes are more hazel than black, the whole shape of her face is different.