Maliks & Millennials

Week 1 Saturday, 7.44 a.m.

Urdu words in the chapter: Abbu: father. In Pakistani culture, it is often used for an elder in the family who plays a significant, fatherly role.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

'There's my princess.'

Mesh tried in vain to tone down her beaming smile. She just couldn't contain the happiness. Picking up her pace, her luggage zooming along with her, she launched herself into the all-comforting embrace of the best person in the world. Abbu.

To say that Mesh was ecstatic is an understatement. 

And it seems essential to provide a little context. 

In relation, Abbu was her dad's older brother. It would suffice to call him uncle but his role in their lives was far too significant. Following a massive car-wreck decades ago, the Maliks lost their first generation to ill-fate. The succeeding Maliks - four young boys, orphaned and alone, were thrown into the extended family business. The adolescent to take up all responsibility was the oldest Malik - their Abbu.

The feat occurred years before Mesh was even born, so that's not what strengthened her bond to her Abbu. It was the fact that of all the people in the world, with all their prejudices, Abbu was perhaps the only person alive who really saw her. Who cherished her for who she was. 

Who never left a flicker of doubt in Mesh's heart that she was loved. 

No one compared to it - not even her own parents. 

Sometimes, she wondered why.

'Is this who I think it is?' 

Mesh jerked back from the hug, wondering who in their right minds could be so loud and abrupt. Annie beat her to it, although not in the manner she herself intended to.

'Amaar,' Annie squealed, 'Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh.'

The guy in question beamed - no, gave a face-splitting grin that was all things: lopsided, cocky and a little Chesire-cat-like. Chocolate brown eyes spoke volumes of happiness, and Mesh realized after a while that Amaar and Annie were talking like long-lost friends who were only just reunited. Like they were very good friends. 

Mesh did what she was explicitly skilled at: she observed. And she didn't like him. Maybe it was a primitive instinct, but Mesh simply did not like guys who were cocky, loud and chiseled. Amaar Malik was all three. But what bothered her more was how her sister and he were such good friends, considering the two lived an ocean apart, and had only just met each other in person - for the first time in about nine years.

Mesh knew everything about her sister. Or so she thought.

When was the last time you bothered about who Annie hung out with? she reminded herself. True, she had stopped keeping track of Annie's social status - and it was perhaps the only thing she didn't know about her sister.

'And who,' came Amaar's exaggerated acknowledgment of Mesh, 'may this be?'

Mesh snapped out of her thoughts to find Amaar's heavy gaze on her.

'The tribute from district 4,' Mesh deadpanned. 

'Ooh, don't bite,' Amaar chuckled, 'I'm just trying to be polite.'

Sure.

'I'm surprised you know what politeness is.'

Mesh was sure that the cocky idiot had a comeback but Annie beat him to it.

'This is Mehwish,' Annie started, and Amaar threw Mesh his signature smirk, 'my sister.'

Amaar's face fell. 

'Y-your what?' Amaar almost stuttered, 'I thought your sister was Ayazza.' 

Amaar wore a very confused expression. 

Mesh imagined the gears running in his head: 1 + 1 = 11? She mentally snickered. 

'Mesh is the other sister,' Annie replied, unimpressed, 'Ayazza is the oldest. Deadpan Queen here is the little one.'

Mesh glared at her. Little one, my foot. We're all aware who's IQ surpasses everyone else's by a factor of 10. 

'Oh,' Amaar suddenly shot out, a wave of ethereal realization washed over him, 'I forgot you existed.'

It grew eerily quiet. Mesh was silently fuming. The nerve of this guy. Annie was nervously glancing between Mesh and Amaar. Oh boi, you don't say stuff like that around Mesh. Amaar was trying to pick the popcorn kernel stuck in his teeth - using only his tongue. He was probably not bothered that his face got all scrunched up - unattractively - with the effort. I look good anyway.

It was only when Amaar glanced at Mesh's furious face that he realized the true depth of what he had said.

'I know a lot of people. It gets, umm, a little tasking to keep track of everyone.'

'We're related.'

'Yeah, but you live on the other side of the world.'

'We're cousins.'

'Second,' Amaar replied, slightly flustered, 'second cousins.'

'So is Annie, but you two seem close,' Mesh challenged, then she glared at her sister, 'and did I never come up in your conversations?'

'Yeesh - M, it's not like there's anything exciting to talk about - ' Annie stopped herself but the damage had been done.

And then, like always, Mesh registered hurt, reminded herself that it didn't matter, strengthened her resolve and pulled a mask on her face - all in a split second. Like always, she pretended to be fine.

Annnnd that's chapter 2.

What do you guys thing? I know the tempo is a tad bit slow and I'm working on making the story more engaging. Hopefully, it'll get wittier soon! I am a new writer, so...

Constructive feedback, even if it's brutal (note that brutal does not mean degrading; it's all about how you word things) is totally welcomed!