Bewitched

10

MUNTASSIR

I sat across from Muntassir, savoring a bite of cake, and for once, I felt oddly calm. He had taken me to his father's golf course earlier—yes, golf, of all things—and now we were sharing dessert. Honestly, if it weren't for the promise of sweets and the thought of that adorable kitten, I would've never gone through with it. But here I was, working my way through a decadent selection of cakes and pastries, carefully keeping myself from saying anything too sharp.

He leaned back in his chair, watching me with a faint smile. "You really love desserts, don't you?"

I paused, mid-bite, shrugging. "I guess. I have a sweet tooth."

He chuckled. "You guess? You nearly jumped out of your seat when the waiter brought the cake over."

I couldn't help but grin, swallowing the last bit of the lemon tart before responding. "Alright, fine. I really love desserts. I've always been like this. When I was little, I used to sneak into the kitchen and eat sugar cubes."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Sugar cubes?"

"Yeah," I laughed, "like, straight from the container. I'd eat them like candy, until my brothers caught me one day and ratted me out to my dad. I got in so much trouble."

"Can't say I've ever done that," he said, still laughing. "But I respect it. I didn't realize you were such a sugar fiend."

"What can I say? It's a lifestyle." I leaned back, feeling full and content for the first time in a while. This whole charade was easier when I was distracted by cake.

"So, what were you like as a kid?" he asked suddenly, surprising me with the shift in conversation. "Besides raiding the sugar stash."

I thought about it for a second, pushing a crumb around my plate with my fork. "I was cheerful, I guess. Pretty spoiled, too, if I'm being honest."

"You? Spoiled? I can't imagine that," he teased, and I threw him a mock glare.

"No, seriously. I had four older brothers who doted on me, and my dad gave me pretty much anything I wanted. I didn't hear the word 'no' very often," I admitted, laughing a little. "I think I drove them all crazy."

"I'm sure you did," he said with a smirk. "But that sounds like a pretty happy childhood."

I nodded. "Yeah, it was. I mean, my mom wasn't around much, but Dad and my brothers made up for it. What about you?"

"Me?" He leaned back, considering the question. "I had a good childhood, too. As the oldest, I had more responsibility than my siblings, but it wasn't too bad. I learned a lot from my father, especially about business. I was always trying to be the example, you know?"

I could see that. Muntassir had that quiet confidence that came with being the eldest, the one everyone looked up to. It explained a lot about him. "So, you were the responsible one?"

"Yeah, something like that," he said with a shrug. "But I still had fun. My siblings and I used to get into all sorts of mischief."

I raised an eyebrow. "Mischief? You? Somehow, I don't buy it."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I was a kid, Mumtaz. Even I wasn't all business back then."

We both laughed at that, and for a moment, it felt like a normal conversation. No games, no barbed comments. Just us, talking.

"So," he continued, "what did you study?"

"Fashion marketing," I replied, taking another bite of cake. "I've always loved fashion, and I figured marketing would be the practical route. What about you?"