With Love

Chapter 20: eid smiles

Israh thought about him again, once more in front of the mirror as she assessed the darkness of her mehndi, waiting for her soon-to-be in-laws to arrive.

The elderly used to say that the darker one's henna colour was, the more they were loved by their beloved.

It was rather unrelatable for Israh seeing that romance was far from near in the relationship she shared with Asad.

It was however, childishly hopeful to see the darkness of the designs drawn tenderly and precisely on her palm, by Tamannah's skilful hand. She eyed the sneaky 'A' near her wrist, and smiled absentmindedly.

Even if it wasn't love, could it at least be an affectionate attachment?!

She draped the hijab more like a dupatta, preferring the way it looked on her anarkali white dress, and headed downstairs when she heard new voices mingling with her abbu's. The sound of Asad beta sent her mind into a frenzy, and she nearly had a heart attack in the middle of the stairs.

She'd stumbled, and thank God for whoever made that railing, because if she had nothing to grip on in this precarious moment, she'd had fallen off and split open her head.

He said he wasn't coming, that he was busy, that there were consequences to leaving a restaurant unsupervised on a day as chaotic as Eid.

Namuna, (idiot) she thought.

When she was done catching her breath and composing herself, she headed down the stairs, opened the door to the living room and plastered on her best smile.

She avoided looking at him purposely as she greeted Ahmed and Ruqayya, turned away from his gaze to the kitchen to prepare snacks for the guests.

It was so hot here. The smell of paaye and the spices of the biriyani flooded her nostrils, the still-cooking aaloo qeema, and ras malai, all came together to raise the temperature in the kitchen to an all time high.

She rushed to the door for the garden and opened it, letting the barely-there Spring breeze take away some of the smell and heat.

Once that was done, she moved over to the fridge to retrieve the orange juice.

As she closed the door of the fridge, a shadow, a presence frightened her momentarily. A surprised squeak escaped her as she flinched and stumbled away from the man, holding a hand over her chest against which a panicked heart pounded furiously.

The bottle of juice fell from her hand boisterously, splashing the drink everywhere.

He looked at the stained hem of her white dress, then at her face then back at the floor. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to- I didn't think you'd startle so easily."

Her eyes narrowed at him, almost intimidatingly. "Are you blaming me?"

He shook his head. "No. No, of course not. I really didn't mean to..." His cheeks gained a faint red, embarrassed.

She put her hand over her hips and sighed. Before she could say anything, Sidra came into the kitchen, questioning what that loud sound was.

Asad immediately turned around, stuttering as he took the blame. "It was my fault aunty. I'll clean this up."

He moved to grab the mop, but in a moment of thoughtlessness, Israh reached her hand to his arm to stop him. "Don't you dare."

He blinked. Sidra hissed at her, "Israh."

Israh cursed herself under her breath and quickly released his arm. "Sorry. I meant- I mean I'll clean this off. Don't worry."

"No, it's okay. I'll-"