Aira, now 19, unexpectedly crossed paths with her childhood playmate, Ayaan Sikandar, after years of separation. Their families had lost contact when Aira's father faced business losses, forcing them to move back to their home country. As a 4-year-o...
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I caught sight of Aira as she came down the stairs, her soft footsteps catching my attention. She had changed into something more comfortable, duppata draped around her head, and there was a slight flush in her cheeks, as if she was still adjusting to the new surroundings.
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****(AIRA's appearance in her own room, but she has her duppata on her head guys when she came out of her room. I liked the dress so I added this pic🙈🌼🙃) ****
As she stepped off the last stair, she noticed me standing nearby and offered a small, tentative smile.
“How are you feeling now?” I asked, taking a step toward her. “Still having jetlag?”
Aira blinked up at me, her eyes wide, and then shook her head. “No, I’m fine now,” she said, pausing before adding, “Ayaan bhai.”
I froze. Bhai? My eyes widened in surprise as the word hit me like a splash of cold water. “Bhai?” I repeated, the word coming out sharper than I intended. I didn’t know why it bothered me so much, but something inside me to be against it instantly.
Aira, looking slightly confused by my reaction, tilted her head innocently. “Well, what should I call you?” she asked, her voice soft but puzzled. “You’re older than me, and I call Azlan bhai too. He didn’t mind.”
She said it so innocently, as if it were the most logical thing in the world, and for a second, I was caught off guard. Azlan bhai. The way she compared me to him made something in my chest twist uncomfortably. I didn’t like it—didn’t want her to see me in that light.
“No,” I said, my voice a little more abrupt than I meant it to be. I softened my tone quickly, trying to keep my cool. “Don’t call me bhai.”
Aira looked up at me, her confusion deepening. “But—” she started, but I cut her off gently.
“Just call me Ayaan,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice calm, though something possessive was brewing underneath. “I don’t like being called ‘bhai.’ Especially not by you.”
