Destined Strangers

Chapter 19

"Love is not something that you find. Love is something that finds you."

🌙

Morning has arrived, but the sky outside is still dim, wrapped in the lingering shadows of dawn. A faint darkness clings to the corners of the house as Sania steps out of her room, the soft padding of her slippers the only sound.

Like every other day, her gaze instinctively drifts to the upstairs room at the end of the hall. Its door, as always, remains closed, a silent constant in her morning routine.

She exhales softly, a long breath that momentarily fogs up the cool air, and makes her way to the kitchen. The air smells faintly of coffee from the night before, and she busies herself by pulling out ingredients for breakfast. Her movements are methodical, precise.

The steady rhythm of her work fills the quiet house, and time slips away from her as she gets lost in the familiar motions. These days, her breakfasts have become more elaborate, more carefully prepared. A part of her wonders why, but she doesn't linger on the thought.

A few moments pass before she hears the faint creak of the upstairs door opening, the sound breaking the silence. She doesn't turn, continuing to chop and stir, her mind focused on the task in front of her. Then come the slow, deliberate footsteps descending the stairs, growing louder with each step. Still, she remains where she is, her hands moving deftly as she pours the tea.

The faint scent of cologne reaches her before he does, a familiar, comforting fragrance that fills the space around her. He steps closer, and she feels his presence beside her before his voice reaches her ears.

"What are you making?" Hassan's voice is soft, a quiet warmth in the early hours of the day.

Sania glances up at him briefly, her lips curving into a small smile of her own.

"Why, do you want to cook?"

"If you ask me, I'll make it,"

He leans back slightly, one elbow resting casually against the kitchen shelf, his posture relaxed, as though he's settled in for a conversation that could last hours.

She laughs softly, shaking her head as she places the last slice of bread on the pan. "Oh please, Hassan," she says, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

"I would love to let you fulfill this desire one day, but I'm not willing to take any risks this early in the morning."

Her words are light, but the familiar banter brings warmth to the moment. Hassan chuckles, a rich, genuine sound that fills the small kitchen.

She turns her attention back to the food, her fingers deftly moving as she stirs the pan. This time, though, a slight smile tugs at her lips, softening her expression

She can feel his presence behind her, the warmth of his gaze resting on her back, and it makes her pause, fingers hesitating for just a second.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

She finally asks, unable to ignore the feeling any longer.

"How am I looking at you?"

Hassan counters, his voice soft and the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile she doesn't need to see to know is there.

"I don't know... just go and sit down. I'll serve the food,"

Her tone more insistent now, hoping he'll leave her to her work. But she can sense him still standing there, unmoving, and her shoulders tense just slightly.