The Secrets We Keep Hidden

4 | Fallen Rose Petals

"To understand the heart and mind of a person, look not at what he has already achieved, but at what he aspires to." ~Kahlil Gibran

The bright sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling crystal windows as the elders laughed ceremoniously and floral Persian teacups clinked with their saucers in a rhythmic dance. The room smelt of the freshest petals of jasmine that swam in the bowl of water with a hint of rosewater that only the most sensitive of noses could decipher. Generous amounts of overflowing flowers tickled over in laughter through the rims of Swarovski vases. 

Each piece of furniture in the large living room was polished and shining to its manifested sheen. The large chandelier hanging from the ceiling threw shadows of amusement on the large rectangular amber red Arabian carpet that slept under the coffee table. 

"Hashir beta, why don't you show your new friend where the restroom is?" Tabrez nodded towards the small boy that gave him a wide smile. 

"Yes, Chachu!" Hashir replied generously. 

Hashir jumped off the vintage chaise lounge where he sat next to the very handsome man that had befriended him instantly. Hashir knew they'd be good friends just as the man had offered to sit right next to him, and not in his lap as if they were equal. Even in his big heart, he hoped to Allah that this friend be with him forever and ever. 

"Come on! I'll show you where the restroom is," Hashir turned his pink cheeks to him, and he smiled down at the eager child.

"Alright then, let's go!" he extended his long suit-clad arm down to Hashir, and after a minute's observance, Hashir grinned and weaved his tiny and chubby fingers through his new friend's long and slender ones. 

"Maaf kijiye (Excuse me)," the man voiced respectfully, bowing his head and humbly placing a hand on his chest as he excused himself from the chatty elders and the woman who was known as Zubaida. 

Her eyes were casted downwards as she played with the tassels at the ends of her dupatta. She seemed like a rather anxious person as her fingers didn't spare her bangles or one thing or another after she'd finished pouring the chai and sat down next to her mother and his. 

His mother had seemed to like her. The bright pearly smile extended beyond her bold burgandy lips was a dead giveaway and the way she kept looking back at her son- he knew that she was hinting her liking towards her. 

The woman seemed slightly older, though his father had told her she was in her late 20s. Her olive skin was dewy and an asset to her round brown eyes. But there was something- something was lacking when she'd lifted her eyes to greet his in a minuscule second's notice. 

For the past eight years, his family had begged him to get married, but time did not permit and neither did his desires. He didn't want to meet anyone, nor did he have any intention of marrying... not after everything that had happened. 

But his sisters and mother had ambushed him, and his father believed it was time he moved on from the past.  

But the past was like a tea kettle set on an open flame. The longer it stayed burning in its place, the more water was lost just like life lost its substance after awhile. And then there's no flavor left- just how life becomes a routine and there's no difference from beginning to end. 

"So tell me Hashir, what do you like to do? What are your favorite games?" he asked the five year old while smiling to himself, trying to catch up with Hashir's energetic and bouncy steps. 

"I like to play with my action figures, and sometimes video games but Ammi doesn't always let me. I like playing Candy Crush and Temple Run on the hi-pad too," he said with a large sigh at the end.