His Little Neighbour

four

But who said Muslims shouldn't like someone anyway? It all depends on how you act upon your feelings and Mashal was starting to panic at that thought. She didn't exactly know how to act upon it in the first place. Should she tell this to someone? What if they judged her? What if they called her names?

He is rude and that should be off-putting already but it wasn't. Which made it all the more frustrating. Sure, she's petty and stupid to hold a grudge oh him for behaving the way he did, but it was foolish of her to deny the crush just because of that. Because her crush on him felt stronger than her petty feelings. Why can't she just forget that rude neighbour?

"Aapi, are you listening to me?" Meher shook her shoulders, in return, she gave a distracted nod and continued drinking her coffee, with all these confusing thoughts swirling in her mind.

"Did the company call you back?" her sister's question snapped her back to bitter reality. Mashal shook her head in negative, "that interviewer was actually our neighbour."

Meher stared at her wide-eyed, "no way! You're kidding me."

"Yes, way. It was him." She rolled her eyes at that dramatic reaction, "and I'm turning down the job offer if I was given any at all. Which reminds me, I should talk about something important with papa. Is he still home? Or has he left already?"

"He's having breakfast but will be leaving soon. But how can that be possible, aapi? He's your boss?" Meher was still in disbelief.

"He is not, I'm not going to work for him, M. Don't mess up my room, I'll be back" Mashal narrowed her eyes before walking downstairs, her eyes were filled with accusation and complaints.

"Papa, are you there?" Yelling loudly she made an appearance in the living room and noticed how her parents jumped apart at the dramatic entry. Her anger vanished in thin air as she tried to erase the sight of her father kissing her mother passionately in the middle of the living room.

Twenty-five plus years and the fire in their marriage still makes so many other couples envious.

"Jeez, you guys!" Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. As much as romantic it sounded, but for a grown-up daughter to walk in on something like that was traumatizing. She has gone through this far too many times and still couldn't stop feeling shy.

"You should get used to it by now," Arsalaan tried to cover up with a smug smile as he slid his arms around his wife's, pulling her close to him, but Mashal was not sure it was his teasing or did he actually mean it. Her father gets too much at times.

"Arsalaan," Malaika told him off sternly and wriggled out of his hold, "leave me." Her cheeks were so bright.

But her father was stubborn as ever, holding his wife close to him as if nothing really happened. While she could see the embarrassment creeping up on her mother's face.

Gosh! Why are they so freaking adorable?
Her heart couldn't take all this cuteness at once.

It just subconsciously makes her want to have a similar kind of love one day every single time. Her parents are so adorable! Masha Allah.

"Papa, are you free? I want to talk something."

Malaika shoved him away and walked into the kitchen, not meeting any of their eyes. Arsalaan laughed with a shake of his head, "your mother is a drama queen. She was the one who initiated it,"

"Papa that's enough, thank god poor Meher didn't get to witness this." Mashal sighed and Arsalaan's laugh only increased at that, "leave about that, what did you want to talk about?"

"Are you free?" Composing herself, Mashal asked knowing very well that it was time for him to go to the office. He usually leaves around at eight-thirty in the morning. It was eight twenty-five currently.