𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐱 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Chapter 13

With clutter, Aariz places a small tray with a teacup on a round glass table on the lounge. He goes back to the kitchen, rolls his sleeves up, and grabs the yellow sponge dipping it into the fairy liquid dishwasher. Before rubbing it on the pan he smells the liquid closing his eyes.

Being done he walks up to her room. The door is peaked open. He knocks and pushes it open and finds her lab coat laying on the study chair armrest with her bag tossed on the sofa. He turns around to find her mom's room closed. He stands outside leaning against the wall. His eyes catch the gold Arabic letters. Surah Fatiha, the first chapter of the Quran, in golden calligraphic letters.

His eyes move into her room. The paintings. The abstract flowers that she once had explained to Nooran. Beside her abstract flowers are the splatters of vibrant paint with a black background. Amelia's art. He recalls Amelia chasing Nooran as he mocked her and her guitar in his hand.

He misses this. He was just a wallflower observing silently everyone. His thoughts try to find the reasons for his plain personality. No. He can't just spiral into that thought. The Aariz who was outspoken hates him. The past behind the doors of seriousness. The past behind patches.

When Selena gets up from the toilet seat a sudden she glances inside, a tinge of blood makes her frown. A twisted cramp throws her against the wall. She pushes the lid down and flushes, "Welcome home, aunt flow!", she pats her bloated abdomen and pulls her panties up, "It's been a long time. 2 months.", she wears her pants and dashes out of the bathroom and opens the room. They both jump back.

She fixes her hijab and dashes into her room, opens her wardrobe, and pulls her pad.

"What happened?", he slowly walks in, "Everything is fine?"

"Now.", she turns around, "I am bleeding.", Selena dramatically sings Cardigan.

"w-what? WHERE?", he walks up to her and scans her up and down. She shoves her pad in his face and walks out of the room.

"God!", he face-palms, "You scared me."

She bangs her mom's room door before he could even finish his sentence. He goes into the lounge and drags the round table near the sofa and sits down. The cars rushing past on the road caught his attention.

The buses that stop for 2 minutes are always on time. Regular. Punctual. This is what life must be. Organized. Systematic. Unlike people walking. Chaotic. Haphazard. He presses the cup of tea against his lips. But doesn't sip. The warmth of the cardamon tea fogs his glasses but he doesn't care because he is in love with the aroma although it is not the same as the one small desi cafeterias make and label it as Karak. 

Selena's vibrating phone makes him jump out of his thought wagon. The tea dares to spill over onto the tray when he slams the cup in it on the table. The rushing footsteps enter the lounge. Although he can't see what she is wearing through his fogged-up vision he can make out that Selena has changed.

"Assalam o alikum, mom.", she moves back into her room and closes the door in Aariz's face not knowing he was following her. Her lips curl into a frown as her mom asks her to fry some kebabs and get some parathas from Pak Darbar nearby. She is not getting in the kitchen. And frying? A big fat no.

"But I am tired!", she whines to which her mom sighs and pauses. Selena knows how to get on her mom's nerves by bringing up how much she loathes the idea of cooking. She waits for the response.

"Okay. Order whatever Aariz wants.", she wants to argue with her mom's grave reply to her tantrum. Why not what she like? But realizing she has gotten this chance as booty of the war with her mom's silence objecting to it will not be in her favor, she remains shut.