Kabhi main, kabhi tum, kabhi yeh, kabhi voh

Part 18: Stairs

Over the next few days, Sharjeena and Mustafa slipped into an effortless, almost harmonious rhythm that brought a comforting warmth to their days. Despite their busy schedules, they made sure to carve out moments for each other—whether it was a quick chat over breakfast, stolen glances during their commutes, or a string of text messages throughout the workday, brimming with little updates or playful banter.

When their new car finally arrived, it became a symbol of their growing bond, a shared achievement they both took pride in. Mustafa insisted that Sharjeena discontinue her van service, declaring that he would drop her off and pick her up every day. Occasionally, though, she would insist on driving, flipping the roles.

On those mornings, Mustafa would sit tensely in the passenger seat, his eyes darting to every passing car as he bombarded her with a list of instructions. "Dheere chalaao, Sharjeena. Hum pregnant hain," he'd say, his voice a mix of concern and exaggerated authority.

"Main dheere hi chalaati hoon, Mustafa," she'd reply, rolling her eyes. "Shayad mujhe van chhorni hi nahi chahiye thi. Yeh roz roz ki chik chik se toh bachi rehti."

"Ha! Tumhein lagta hai ki main tumko is condition mein van mein jaane deta. Zaroooor!," he'd retort, crossing his arms dramatically.

Their daily commute became their sanctuary of sorts. Mustafa couldn't resist teasing her about her music choices. "Ek toh roz roz yeh Billie Eilish," he'd groan as soon as she started playing one of her songs. "Kuch desi nahi sun sakte kya kabhi?"

"Acchi hai voh!" Sharjeena would argue, turning up the volume just to annoy him. Then, as Billie's soft vocals filled the car, she'd start singing along.

"Aankhein sadak pe rakho, meri maa!" Mustafa would scold, half-laughing but unable to hide his genuine concern.

Sharjeena would glare at him. "Mustafa, tum bhi jaante ho ki meri driving skills tumse zyada acchi hain, bas admit nahi karoge."

"Oh, really?" Mustafa would shoot back with a mischievous smirk. "Abbu ki car ka bonnet kisne toda tha?"

"Meri galti nahi thi, kitni baar bataaun!" she'd exclaim, her indignation spilling over. "Peeche waali car galat dhang se parked thi!"

"Aur tumhein toh brake lagaana aata hi nahi hai?" Mustafa would tease, laughing at her increasingly annoyed expression.

"Aisa karti hoon, yahaan side mein rok deti hoon, tum hi chala lo, theek hai?" she'd snap, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Acchha, relax, gussa mat karo" he'd reply smoothly, grinning as he settled back in his seat. "Aise hi mazaak kar raha hoon."

Though their commutes were peppered with their light-hearted bickering, Mustafa secretly loved every second of it. He adored the way her eyes lit up when she passionately defended herself and how her voice carried over the music. He even loved pretending to win their arguments, knowing full well that her driving skills were actually better than his.

For Mustafa, these moments felt like tiny pieces of heaven—a life he hadn't thought he'd ever have, one that he now vowed to cherish endlessly.

Mustafa found himself thriving at work in ways he hadn't before. With his heart light and his mind unburdened, he approached his tasks with renewed energy and clarity. Gone were the days of snapping at employees or letting his frustrations cloud his judgment. Now, he made decisions wisely, listened patiently, and fostered a more positive work environment.

On the rare days he found himself stuck, he would turn to Sharjeena at night. Sitting together over tea or while lying in bed, he would share his challenges with her. Without fail, she always offered a perfect solution, her advice clear, practical, and spot-on. One evening, after explaining a particularly complex financial dilemma to her, Mustafa listened as she effortlessly broke it down and provided a strategy that left him astounded.