With Love

chapter 39: maybe love stays

They sat across from each other, half-empty cups of chai cooling between them after having had lunch.

"Aaloo gobi isn't my favorite dish, by the way," she said, breaking the silence.

He raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No. It's silly, actually. I don't really like it, but there was this one time my mom made it, and it actually tasted good. So, I told her, 'Mom, this is amazing.' In her mind, that turned into 'this is Israh's favorite meal in the whole world.' Now my whole khandaan thinks there's nothing greater than aaloo gobi for me."

Asad laughed, a genuine sound that warmed her unexpectedly. "So, every time you go to someone's house...?"

"They make it just for me, and I have to eat it, even if I don't want to."

He leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Why?"

She shrugged, an affectionate smile playing on her lips. "Because it makes Mama happy."

"Yeah, but you don't even like it."

"I don't hate it either," she admitted. "Just... a mild dislike."

Asad's expression shifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That makes me a little nervous."

She tilted her head, curious. "Why?"

"Well," he said, dragging out the word as if testing it, "how do I know you didn't marry me only because it makes your mom happy? And that you don't actually like me?"

Israh blinked, caught off-guard by his teasing. "Mhm, good point," she replied, playing along. "But you know what's fascinating?"

"What?"

She allowed herself a small smile, a hint of shyness mixed with confidence. "I don't even mildly dislike you."

He leaned back, eyebrows raised in mock amazement. "So... you like me?"

She felt her cheeks warming. "Mildly," she mumbled, averting her gaze.

Asad laughed softly, a sound that was as much relief as it was amusement. "How do I change that to... a lot?"

She crossed her arms, pretending to be unaffected, but her heart raced at his directness. "Oh? You want me to like you a lot?"

He shrugged, trying to act casual, though there was a hint of eagerness in his gaze. "Wouldn't hurt."

A challenge sparked in her eyes as she studied him. "What about you?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady. "Do you... like me?"

"A lot."

The simplicity and swiftness of his answer stunned her, left her grappling for words. She let out a shaky laugh, caught between disbelief and hope. "Yeah, right."

"You don't believe me?" he asked, leaning forward, his gaze intensifying.

She opened her mouth, intending to joke about his "first love" and all the rumors she'd heard. But something in the moment stilled her, stopped her from ruining it. "I didn't say that," she replied softly, her voice almost a whisper.

"But you thought it." He inched closer, his voice low and intent, holding her gaze with an intensity that was both exhilarating and unnerving.

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had faded into silence, as if everything beyond this moment—this stare—had vanished.

Suddenly, her mother's voice called from the kitchen, and Israh blinked, the spell broken. She rose quickly, nerves scrambling, leaving him without a single word or a backward glance.