Jaan-e-Azlan❤

35

Dinner was over, the plates cleared away with Mantasha insisting she'd handle them, though Azlan ended up helping anyway. The kitchen still bore traces of her "battle" with cooking-spice stains, an overturned spoon, and the faint smell of onions lingering in the air. Yet to Azlan, it felt warmer than any five-star restaurant he'd ever been to.

Later, Mantasha sat on the sofa, hugging a cushion to her chest, her hair falling loose now, a little messy from the heat of the kitchen. She looked tired but content, her eyes half-focused on the TV though she wasn't really watching.

Azlan leaned against the doorway for a moment, simply observing her. The soft lamplight cast a glow over her face, and something inside him tightened. She had tried-really tried-for him. It wasn't the food itself that struck him, but the thought, the effort, the quiet care behind it.

He crossed the room slowly, stopping in front of her. She looked up, startled, her fingers clutching the cushion tighter.

"What?" she asked softly, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Azlan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to her level. His hand reached out almost instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. The touch was light, fleeting, but enough to make her breath catch.

"Misha," he said quietly, his voice lower than usual, steady yet gentler than she'd ever heard it. "You did well today."

Before she could react, he leaned in just enough and pressed his lips softly to her forehead.

The world seemed to still in that moment. Mantasha froze, her heart thundering wildly, her fingers gripping the cushion as if it could anchor her. The kiss was brief, simple, but it carried more weight than a thousand words.

When he pulled back, she was staring at him with wide, startled eyes, her cheeks burning crimson.

Azlan straightened, a faint curve to his lips, though his eyes held something deeper-something he didn't voice. "Now, stop worrying whether I liked the food or not," he added softly. "That was answer enough."

She ducked her head quickly, unable to meet his gaze, her lips trembling into the smallest of shy smiles.

Azlan watched her for a second longer before moving back to his seat, his expression calm again, but inside, a storm of emotions churned. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace-a quiet, unfamiliar warmth settling into him.

The apartment fell into a soft silence after the forehead kiss. The television played faintly in the background, but neither of them was paying attention anymore. Mantasha sat frozen, cushion still hugged to her chest, her mind spinning in circles.

The warmth of his lips on her forehead lingered like a mark she couldn't brush away. It hadn't been a fleeting gesture to her - it was something far more powerful. No one had ever made her feel that safe, that acknowledged, in such a simple act.

She lowered her gaze quickly, afraid that if she looked at him again, he would see the storm in her eyes. Her heart was still racing, her cheeks hot enough to burn.

Why did he do that? Was it just... appreciation? Or something more? she thought, biting down on her lower lip.

When Azlan got up and moved to sit on the other sofa, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothing had happened, Mantasha grew even more restless. She wanted to say something, but her throat felt tight. Instead, she excused herself softly, claiming she was tired, and slipped into her room.

The moment the door closed behind her, she pressed her back against it, exhaling shakily. She touched her forehead with her fingertips, as if confirming that the kiss had really happened.