God's way

Part 6

The kitchen smelled of sugar and vanilla, warmth radiating from the oven as the cookies baked. The lights overhead cast a soft glow, making the entire room feel cocooned in its own little world. Sayjan was beside me, humming to the soft music playing in the background, his sleeves rolled up, and flour dusting his forearms. It was a scene that felt almost picture-perfect—two people, enjoying a quiet evening together.

I was rolling out dough on the counter, my hands sticky, when a new song began to play. The opening notes were delicate, melancholy, yet achingly beautiful. Sayjan's head snapped up as if he recognized it instantly. He didn't just turn the volume up; he rushed over to the speaker, his excitement almost childlike.

I tilted my head at him, curious.

Before I could ask, he crossed the room, reaching for my hand. I blinked in surprise as he pulled me gently toward him, interlocking our fingers. I didn't resist. Instead, I let him guide me, curious and, admittedly, a little nervous. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, warm even through the fabric of my shirt, and he raised my arm to his shoulder.

"We're dancing," he said with a grin, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"To this?" I teased, my voice soft.

"To this," he confirmed. His tone was steady, almost reverent, as he started to move us to the slow rhythm of the song.

At first, I was stiff, unsure. But he was so confident, so at ease, that I let myself go, following his lead. The room seemed to shrink, the music wrapping around us like a warm blanket. I was aware of the closeness, the sound of his breathing as we swayed in time. My heart fluttered—something I hadn't felt in so long.

As we moved, I caught his gaze, and it was like the world had fallen silent except for the music and the look in his eyes. I felt safe. It was a feeling I hadn't expected, but it was there, undeniable and grounding.

"Do you know why I love this song?" he asked, his voice quieter now, the closeness between us making it feel like a secret meant only for me.

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"My parents," he said with a small, wistful smile. "They used to dance to it, late at night, when they thought I was asleep. I'd sit on the stairs, hiding, watching them. They looked so happy, so...in love."

The warmth in his voice as he spoke about them made my heart ache, but in the best way. I smiled, touched by the memory he shared. 

I didn't know what to say, so I let the moment speak for itself, resting my head against his shoulder. For a moment, everything was perfect. I felt his hand tighten slightly on my waist, as though he didn't want the moment to slip away.

But the song ended, and so did the spell. He gently stepped back, though his hand lingered in mine for a moment longer than it needed to. I felt his absence immediately, like a chill had crept into the room.

I turned back to the cookies, trying to ground myself in the task, when his voice broke through the silence, quieter now but more serious.

"Adma," he said. I looked up at him, and his expression had shifted. There was something in his eyes—something deeper, heavier. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What is it?" I said, though I felt my heart starting to race.

He hesitated, and that alone told me this wasn't going to be a lighthearted question. "You know how much I care about you, right?"

I nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with this.

"And you know how important my faith is to me," he continued. His voice was calm, but I could hear the edge of tension beneath it.