under the covers [hs au]

chapter sixty.

Samira frowned, reminded yet again that she'd spend the rest of her life with someone with a heart bigger than his body. She often wondered what Zafri had been up to during that year she was away—if he'd gone through some sort of metamorphosis just like she did.

"Remind him to rest a bit. He doesn't listen to me."

"That's funny," Wapa snorted. "I'm glad I don't feel insecure about giving him your hand."

After prayer, the doorbell rang—a package with the wedding invitations. Zafri made most of the wedding decisions, from the potential decor of the venue to the design of the cards.

As Samira ripped open the box, she called Zafri, showing him everything. Each invitation was gold brimmed, embroidered with Arabic and tiny butterflies.

The reference was apparent—speaking of which, the Yara Foundation began its initiatives, and Samira was fully occupied. She designed the website, made calls every other day, and organized files and contacts. Zafri and Samira met up with everyone she met in Colorado one night, thinking they would discuss the next steps, but it was actually a surprise party to celebrate their wedding that was to come in a few weeks. Not only were they Zafri's friends, but Samira's, too.

"Will you take my last name?"

"Allah says I'm my own person, Mr. Qadir."

Samira propped her phone against a vase on the coffee table, holding the invitation in her hand.

"I'm happy with how they turned out."

A few honk noises erupted through the phone; Zafri was driving to work, adorning cerulean scrubs. The sun reflected off his glasses, glaring into the camera. His phone sat on the dashboard as he turned his steering wheel left and right.

"I sent you a list of emails to send to people overseas." Zafri glowered. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there to help, samosa."

"No, no." Samira leaned toward the camera, batting her eyes. "Mano is coming later to help out with the invitations. You did a lot of stuff already while working, don't worry about it."

Zafri then simpered, his eyes glistening at Samira.

"Can I shave my beard for the wedding?"

Caught off guard, Samira creased her eyebrows. Zafri started chuckling as if he expected this immediate reaction from Samira—her mouth fell open.

"Was that a threat?" She glared, pointing the letter opener at Zafri. "I'll kill you."

"I'll do it then."

"Wallahi, if you do it, I will not take you seriously. When Wapa shaved his beard, I literally laughed every time he walked into the room. He never shaved his beard after that."

Zafri's car stood still; he continued his laughter, reaching to the passenger's seat for his backpack. He then took his phone and neared his nose to the camera, mocking Samira with a goofy face.

"I gotta go, dilruba."

"Zafri."

"Mein tumse pyar karta hoon."

Samira rolled her eyes: "Okay, okay. Text me when you get back home."

Laila babbled in Samira's arms as Mahnoor sat by the other side of the coffee table, writing each name and address on every envelope. Mahnoor was far too excited for the wedding preparations, just as much as Zafri was—Samira could feel the passive-aggressiveness every time they spoke. If Samira could eat popcorn at the same time Mahnoor and Zafri argued, she would.