He hated it here.
The current state of affairs was deplorable for his liking. He was stuck at Pasha House against his will, and now struggling to breathe within the confines of this tiny washroom that felt hotter even though the cool breeze of Karachi displayed signs of its constant presence.
He rubbed the turmeric paste off his face diligently while his eyes darted toward the five-foot-two-inch vixen who stood against the door frame sniggering at his dishevelled state. He knew she was thinking about him, cooking another disaster to create further problems for him, or preparing another scheme to further annoy him. He noticed the way she pushed her tongue to the inner side of her cheek, her eyes glued to his while she suppressed the chuckle caught on her lips.
He registered washing the yellow stain off his white shirt that coming here was a bad idea.
But he was forced and threatened. When succumbing to the threats he had no idea what a series of disasters awaited him from the moment he entered Pasha House. It took exactly 45 minutes for him to reach this neighbourhood.
Pasha House- He had never made this frequent visit to a place that made him sacrifice his time, energy and meetings. But he'd always found himself making his way to these streets and now he felt he could come here even with closed eyes given how well he knew about the routes. There was something about Pasha House. Maybe the people who lived here or its smell that always intrigued him. It always smelled of warmth and when you'd enter the house it seemed there was a sumptuous meal being prepared on the stove, the broth boiling to its core and its aroma spread around the house. It also smelled like tealeaves burning in hot water, it wasn't a surprise given how much tea a certain someone consumed. But today it smelled of turmeric, marigolds, and sweetness. The cool breeze mixed with laughter and giggles had a soothing effect. But the house despite the sense of lee it carried reeked of danger. Whenever he'd visit this place, his gut would tell him that something was about to go wrong. He wasn't to be blamed, the first time he came here, he had to jump off the wall like a thief. Ironically, things hadn't changed much since that day.
Pasha House was still the same and he still had to face "a series of unfortunate events" at this place and be subjected to the excruciating presence of this girl. In today's episode of What Could Go Wrong at Pasha House, he was attacked by a bowl of haldi. He had already been enraged after a conversation with Pasha Saab and some unpleasant scenes at the Haya's haldi event but this attack crossed all limits, leaving him infuriated, and he was sure that coming here was a terrible terrible decision he made on the whim of pleasing someone and surrendering to their threats.
Nothing could go well when she was around. How wonderful it would've been had he stayed home and attended this important Zoom meeting with a client. He didn't want to think about the damage it caused to cancel it.
He stared at her vile reflection in the mirror. The mirror not only reflected the way she relished his ordeal but also the striking yellow she flaunted throughout the evening. He told himself that he hated the yellow on her, simultaneously making a mental note that this colour wasn't among his list of most likeable colours from now onwards. He had always loved black anyway, there was no way he could like or even appreciate yellow. It stung his eyes,. He assured himself and repeated it in his head multiple times.
Sniffing in anger, he seized the towel she was holding in her hands as if she wasn't the one responsible for putting him through this in the first place. He didn't miss the blatant display of tease on her face, the way she rolled her eyes at him- those eyes. Why does she have to have such pretty eyes? They reminded him of Bambi, the animated movie he watched when he was 7. He couldn't even recall the plot but her eyes had always reminded him of Bambi.
