The Moment She Saw Him

Part 21

Sahar's POV : 

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming my face as I slowly blinked awake. I fumbled for my phone, squinting at the screen. It was 8 a.m. Why was everyone up so early? I dragged myself out of bed and wandered into the living room. Safiya was bent over her homework, her pen scratching against the paper.
"Mom went out with her friends," she said without looking up. "She tried to wake you, but you were out cold. She made breakfast for you and left it in the kitchen."
I nodded, still groggy, and glanced around. "Where's Ahmed?"
"He went to get some french fries for you," she replied, smiling as she saw me perk up.
I couldn't help but smile back. After brushing my teeth and splashing cold water on my face, I sat down to eat. Just then, Ahmed burst through the door, panting slightly, a large box of hot, crispy french fries in his hands. My heart lifted at the sight.
"Those are all mine," I declared playfully, reaching for the box. "They belong to me."
Ahmed grinned and shook his head. "Maa said we have to share, so that's exactly what we're doing."
I rolled my eyes but didn't argue, focusing on my breakfast instead.

As I was tidying up, I heard my phone ringing from the bedroom. "Safiya, can you grab that for me?" I called out. She darted into the room and returned with my phone, her face lit up with a teasing grin.
"It's Hamza," she said, her smirk growing wider.
"He's just a friend, stop making that face," I said, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks as I took the phone from her.

I answered, trying to sound casual. "Good morning!"
"Goodd morninggg!" Hamza's cheerful voice came through, making me smile instantly.
"Heyy, good morning. Did you sleep well last night?" I asked.
"Yeah, I actually got a solid seven hours," he replied.
"Not bad. Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Not yet. I just woke up. I'm feeding Mom first, then I'll grab something."
"That's nice of you. How's she doing?"
He paused for a moment. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

 

Before I could respond, he handed the phone over. I was surprised to hear his mom's voice.
"Salam, how are you doing? Sehar, right?" Her tone was warm and welcoming.
"Salam, Aunty. Yes, I'm Sehar. I'm doing well. How about you?"
"I'm fine, just a bit of a sting in my right arm, that's all."
"Oh, I hope you feel better soon. When are you getting discharged?"
"Hopefully today," she said. "The doctor has to do a quick check-up, and then we'll know."
"That's great. I hope everything goes smoothly."
"Thank you, dear. Hamza mentioned you were planning to come over and help out with the cooking since I won't be able to for a while."
"Yes, I was thinking of coming by. Is that okay?"
"Of course, you're always welcome here. Oh, the doctor just arrived. I'll talk to you later. Take care, bye!"

 

She hung up, and I found myself smiling. The conversation with Hamza's mom had warmed my heart. Her voice was kind, filled with a gentle strength. I could tell she was a wonderful woman just from that brief exchange. No wonder Hamza adored her so much. I could see where he got his kindness and warmth from. The thought of cooking at their house made me both excited and a little nervous. I wanted to make a good impression, to show them that I cared.

As I finished up the dishes, I kept replaying the conversation in my mind. Safiya looked up from her homework and caught me smiling to myself. "You really like him, don't you?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I felt my cheeks flush. "He's just a friend," I mumbled, but even as I said it, I knew there was more to it than that.

Ahmed, who had been quietly munching on the last of the french fries, chimed in, "I think he likes you too. I've seen it in the way he cares for you "

I shot him a playful glare. "You two are impossible," I said, but I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips.

The day went by in a blur of chores and small moments. I found myself constantly checking the time, waiting for a decent hour to call Hamza again and ask when I could come over. I didn't want to seem too eager, but I also didn't want to miss the chance to spend more time with him and his family. Meanwhile , Mom came home , I told her the whole situation , about Hamza's mom , " Oh god , that must be painful , " , she said with sympathy , " Can I go over to his house , to help him ? " , I asked mom without looking at her . " Yeah , you can go , but be back before 9 , it 's a school night " , she replied , "Ok , bye , thank you " . 

I rushed to my room ,  and dialed his number , It rang a few times before he picked up, his voice cheerful as ever.

Hamza: "Hey, Sehar! What's up?"

Me: "Hey, Hamza. I was just wondering... is it okay if I come over now? I can help with lunch or anything you need."

Hamza: "That would be great! Mom's been talking about you nonstop since this morning. She's really looking forward to meeting you properly."

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words. "Okay, I'll be there soon," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

I hung up and quickly got ready, choosing a simple yet nice outfit that was comfortable for cooking. I grabbed a few ingredients from the kitchen, just in case, and headed out.

The walk to Hamza's house was short, but my mind was racing with thoughts of what awaited me. I wanted to make a good impression, not just on his mom, but on Hamza as well. I wanted him to see that I cared, that I was serious about getting to know him and his family.

When I reached their door, I took a deep breath and knocked lightly. A few moments later, Hamza opened the door, his face lighting up with a smile when he saw me.

"Hey, Sehar! Come in," he said, stepping aside to let me enter.

The house was warm and welcoming, just as I had imagined. Hamza led me to the kitchen, where his mom was sitting at the table, looking much better than I had expected. She smiled warmly at me, and I could feel the kindness radiating from her.

"Sehar, it's so nice to finally meet you in person," she said, her voice as gentle as it had been over the phone.

"It's nice to meet you too, aunty," I replied, feeling a bit shy but happy to be there.

We spent the afternoon cooking together, talking and laughing. Hamza's mom shared stories from his childhood that had us both in stitches, and I could see how much love there was in this home. It made me feel a warmth I hadn't expected, a sense of belonging that was new but welcome.

As the day went on, I realized that this was what I had been searching for—a connection, a place where I felt seen and appreciated. And maybe, just maybe, I had found it with Hamza and his family.