Sisters torn apart by the fragility of the heart, how can love possibly hurt so much?
Hana Junaid decided two years ago, distance would make her younger sister Hanaan more independent but Hanaan's love and yearning for Hana during this time has drow...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"It actually smells good."
"I know right?"
We turn our heads in an attempt to peek in through the kitchen door. Dadi stands in an apron, sleeves rolled high above her elbows, five feet away from the pot she is stirring the wooden spoon in even though the flame under it is the lowest it can be.
Tonight against all odds, Ismat Jehangir is cooking.
I turn back to Hana. "You actually did it."
She beams with pride. "It's all about having courage and taking the first step."
"What if it tastes horrible?"
"We'll order barbecue."
I grin. "So it's not too late to slip in some extra salt?"
"I dare you to try stepping in the kitchen. Dadi won't even allow me. Tonight it's her territory." Her lips curve into a smile that tickles me like a feather. "It's all thanks to you, Hanaan. You were right, no recipe of Food Fusion ever fails and that's all it took to get Dadi in the kitchen."
I shrug. "I wouldn't know anything about cooking. It's Nashwa who told me. She credits it for making her a Master Chef."
"Has she ever cooked for you?"
I shake my head slowly. "She hasn't actually."
Hana's eyes twinkle. "Looks like we'll have to challenge her title."
"We'll pick a recipe tonight. Together?"
"Why not?"
Everything in me is so warm and fuzzy. Hana and I will pick a recipe that Nashwa will cook for us. Together.
The smell of burning coal tickles my nostrils and I sigh. Dadi is making BBQ chicken rice and she must be smoking the chicken now. Hana gets off her feet telling me this is a technical part and she better go help Dadi but she returns back with Dadi waving her wooden spoon at her. Hana grumbles under her breath as she sits by me on the carpet in our lounge right underneath the fan. It is August. It is humid. And yet, Dadi is cooking in the kitchen in this unbearable heat.
"Don't worry," I say when I catch her biting her lip. "I filled up her watering can and kept it by the door, see."
She shakes her head. "What if she cuts her finger or something?"
"You already sliced all the vegetables for her."
"I did, you're right."
I watch her closely as I say, "Trust her, Hana. You can't be there at every step of the way."
She frowns. "Why not?"
"You have your own life."
"But that's my Dadi."
I let out the breath I was holding. "Will you help me as much on my road of life?"
Hana stops before she even speaks. She tilts her head, a thousand emotions flickering behind her eyes. "Hanaan..."
