His silence his pride ( continuation)

fun

As their relationship deepened, Mahra and Zaid found themselves navigating the often humorous and awkward moments that come with truly getting to know each other, especially after years of emotional distance. Though their connection was growing stronger every day, there were still plenty of laughable moments that lightened the weight of the past.

One evening, after returning from a busy day at work, Zaid tried to cook dinner for the two of them, determined to impress Mahra with his newfound culinary skills. He'd watched a cooking show the night before and felt confident he could make a decent pasta dish. Mahra, amused but willing to let him try, sat at the kitchen table, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

Zaid stirred the pot, looking at the recipe on his phone with intense concentration. "This is going to be perfect," he muttered to himself, adding a bit of salt, a pinch of garlic, and some olive oil—everything he'd remembered from the show.

But as he continued, Mahra noticed a peculiar smell wafting from the stove. "Zaid... are you sure you're following the recipe?" she asked with a slight grin, unable to hold back her amusement."Of course I am," he replied confidently, his back turned to her as he fiddled with the sauce. "This is going to be incredible."

A few minutes later, when he finally plated the dish, he placed it in front of Mahra with a flourish. "Ta-da! The finest pasta you'll ever taste."

Mahra picked up a fork, took a bite, and immediately froze, her face a mixture of confusion and slight horror. She chewed carefully, trying not to burst out laughing, but Zaid was watching her with wide eyes, waiting for her reaction."So?" he asked eagerly.

She swallowed slowly, then put her fork down, trying her best to keep a straight face. "Well... it's definitely... *unique*."

Zaid looked horrified. "What? What's wrong with it?"Mahra couldn't help herself anymore, and a laugh bubbled up from her chest. "Zaid, this tastes like cardboard soaked in tomato sauce."

His face fell. "You're kidding."

She took pity on him, wiping a tear from her eye from laughing so hard. "Okay, okay. It's not that bad. But next time, we'll stick to ordering out, alright?"

Zaid groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I swear, I thought I was doing everything right."She reached over and patted his hand gently, her eyes sparkling with humor. "Don't worry. I love you anyway. Even if you can't cook to save your life."

The playful banter didn't stop there. The following weekend, they decided to spend the day at a nearby market, where Mahra had spotted some fresh produce she wanted to buy. Zaid, ever the willing companion, agreed to tag along, though his idea of "market shopping" was more like "exploring," especially when he came across a stand selling quirky, handmade hats.

"I need one of these," Zaid declared dramatically, grabbing a bright red, oversized fedora. He placed it on his head with a smug look, clearly proud of his purchase.Mahra stared at him, trying not to laugh. "Zaid, you look ridiculous."

He struck a pose, his arms spread wide. "What are you talking about? This is *fashion*."She rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face. "You look like you're trying to be in a boy band from the 90s."

Zaid smiled mischievously. "Maybe I am. I'll start my own band, and you'll be my number one fan."

Mahra raised an eyebrow. "You, singing? I'd pay to see that."

"Deal," he said, winking at her. "Let's start with a duet. I'll sing, you play the tambourine."As they continued walking through the market, laughing and bickering over trivial things, they came across a vendor selling street food. Zaid, eager to impress Mahra again, bought two plates of spicy chaat. "You haven't really lived until you've had this," he said, handing her a plate.

Mahra took a cautious bite and immediately froze. "Zaid... this is... *spicy*," she said, her face turning red as she fanned her mouth.

Zaid, already halfway through his plate, looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh, you didn't tell me you didn't like spice!"

"Well, I don't *dislike* it," she said through gritted teeth, trying to hold back a cough, "but this is a whole different level."Seeing her discomfort, Zaid couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll get you some water." He ran off to the vendor and returned with two bottles, both of which Mahra drained in seconds."Better?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched her catch her breath.

She shot him a playful glare. "Next time, *you* taste the food first."

"Deal," he said, chuckling. "But only if you wear the red hat."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress her smile. "You're impossible."

The rest of the day was filled with little moments of laughter and teasing, their bond growing stronger with every playful encounter. As they sat together at a quiet café, sipping on iced coffee, Zaid leaned back in his chair and looked over at Mahra with a contented sigh.

"I'm glad we're doing this," he said softly, his eyes warm with affection.

She met his gaze, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "Doing what? Fighting over food and hats?"He laughed. "Exactly. I've never been more happy to be ridiculous with someone."

Mahra smiled and raised her cup. "To ridiculousness then."

They clinked their cups together, and Zaid realized, in that simple, joyful moment, that they had finally found the kind of love that didn't need perfection—it just needed to be real. And it was, in every funny encounter, every silly disagreement, and every shared moment of genuine affection.