Forever His

Chapter 68: Restless Temptations

Mahnoor's POV:

The door swings open, and Shahmeer steps inside, holding two large bags that smell like heaven. He passes Farjaad one of the bags, guessing it's for Ayesha, while Shahmeer walks over to me with the other. He places the bag in my lap before dropping onto the sofa next to me.

I glance at the bag, my stomach growling in anticipation. The delicious aroma fills the air, but something... something's off. My brows knit together as I sniff the bag again.

"Why does it smell like chai?" I ask, half confused, half intrigued. Then I catch a whiff of the scent again, and my tone turns brighter, more curious. "Why does it smell like chai?"

I dig through the bag like a child on Eid morning, my hands searching frantically until I feel the familiar warmth of a cup. I pull it out and take off the lid, the smell of chai with cardamom hitting me instantly.

"Did you tell them to—"

"Yes," he cuts me off with a casual shrug, leaning back on the sofa like he didn't just make my entire evening. "There's extra cardamom and two spoons of sugar. Now eat."

My heart does this weird little flip, but I ignore it. Instead, I focus on opening the various boxes inside the bag, one by one, as the heavenly scents of noodles, dumplings, and spring rolls fill the room.

"Hold these," I say, passing a few containers to Shahmeer.

"What?" He looks at me, baffled, as I place two boxes in his lap and keep the last one in my hand.

"You heard me," I reply, pulling out my chopsticks and mixing the noodles in the container I'm holding.

"Do I look like a table to you?" he asks dryly, raising an eyebrow.

I glance at him briefly before grinning. "No, tables don't talk. And they're definitely not as opinionated as you are."

He gives me a flat look, but I don't care. Instead, I pick up a soup dumpling and hold it up to his mouth. "Here, eat this."

"I'm not eating that," he says, leaning back like I'm offering him poison.

"Oh, yes, you are," I counter. Without giving him a chance to protest, I push the dumpling into his mouth.

His expression is priceless. He chews reluctantly, his face twisted in what I can only describe as mild disgust. I burst out laughing, clutching my side as I watch him try to swallow the dumpling like it's a punishment.

"You're so picky with your food," I say through my laughter.

He swallows and narrows his eyes at me. "And you're so forceful with yours." His voice drops, the edge of something teasing and dangerous creeping in as he adds, "Wonder if you're that persistent in everything you want."

I choke on my dumpling, my face heating instantly. I grab my cup of chai and take a quick sip to stop myself from coughing. Shahmeer just rolls his eyes, leaning back against the sofa like he didn't just make me nearly die from embarrassment.

"Keep eating," he says, his tone dry but amused.

I glare at him but continue eating anyway, occasionally forcing him to try another dumpling or piece of noodle. Each time, he complains, but I can tell he doesn't mind as much as he pretends to. By the time I'm done, I'm completely full, my stomach happy and content.

"I'm going to wash my hands," I say, standing up and heading toward the bathroom.

When I come back, I see him scrolling through his phone, looking as relaxed as ever. I plop down on the sofa next to him and stretch out, lying down comfortably.