Forever His

Chapter 38: Landed

Shahmeer's POV:

Our food had arrived, and we had started to dig in when I felt Mahnoor's gaze on me, - well to be more accurate, the pasta. I knew she would want some of my pasta and that's why I asked for a larger portion.

"Mmm, this is good. You sure you don't want any?"

"Uh, no. I have my cake and chai, you eat."

"Okay." Her eyes don't budge.

"Here, do you want to try some?" I stab some of the pasta onto the fork I was eating with and place it in front of her mouth.

"If you insist." I feed her the pasta, and she smiles brightly. Why was my heart beating so fast?

"OH MY GOD! This is heavenly! It's better than mine."

"Can't say I agree." I really didn't. The pasta she made for me was better than this, by miles. Everything was perfect. I'm quite picky with my food and Kiran was the only person whose food I would eat for the sake of it. That had all changed now. It was her. Just her. I hated it as much as I loved it.

"What do you mean? You don't even like my pasta."

"When did I say it was bad?"

"Well, you said it was 'fine', which basically means you were trying to be nice."

"Why would I care to even try and be nice? I'm known for being ruthless. I don't need to 'try' and be nice."

"So, you liked it?" She asks with hope filled in her eyes. I wasn't going to lie to her.

"I guess I did."

"WAIT? YOU LIKED...MY PASTA?!" Shock filled her eyes and her smile grew wider by the second. I nod my head in response.

"It might have been the best pasta I've ever had." It makes my heart at peace when I see her happy because of something I said.

"So, your idea of 'fine' means amazing?"

"Well, it depends. Sometimes I mean it. Sometimes I don't."

"But this pasta is way better than mine. It's probably cooked by a top tier chef."

"Doesn't mean it's better." 

"You think what you want then. I prefer this pasta."

"I'll think what I want. I prefer your pasta, love." She smiles slightly at my words and turns back to take another bite of our pasta.

"Well they say that 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach'."

"Fortunately for me, I don't have a heart." She looks at me with confusion etched all over her face.

The words leave my mouth without much thought. It's a simple fact, really. A shield I've worn for as long as I can remember. It keeps things neat, clean—without the mess of emotions. I don't expect her to react, not in the way she does.

"Fortunately?" Her voice is light, but I hear the disbelief underneath. She raises an eyebrow, looking at me like I've just said something absurd. "That's the worst thing ever."

I look at her, my face as unreadable as always. She's sitting there, eyes bright, waiting for me to respond. The way she looks at me—so open, so full of life—it unsettles me in a way I can't quite explain. I lean back, crossing my arms, keeping my distance, the barrier between us firm.

"The heart only makes you weaker." It's what I've always believed. Emotions cloud your judgment, make you vulnerable. That's not something I have the luxury of.