Bound by blood and ardor

Chapter 7

V.R

When I asked about what was bothering him, I didn't expect the depth of sorrow that suddenly filled his grey eyes. My heart tugs with concern, and I immediately regret bringing up the question. I hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable; all I wanted was to make sure he was okay.

Zafar seems taken aback by my inquiry, and his discomfort is evident. I panic, feeling guilty for prying into his matters. I quickly apologize, "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I shouldn't have ruined our moment like that."

He shakes his head slightly, offering a tiny smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. I can tell it's forced, and the sadness in his gaze only deepens my worry. His brown curls bounce on his head as he shakes his head again as if trying to clear his thoughts.

"I'm okay, love. Don't worry about it," he assures me, his voice low and tinged with a hint of sadness. My heart aches for him, wishing there was something I could do to help ease his burden.

I give him a sad smile in return and say, "If you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here to listen, yes?" I want him to know that I'm genuinely here for him and that he can trust me with his feelings.

Zafar gives me a grateful smile, appreciating the offer. He nods, and we continue our lunch, both of us trying to move past the heavy moment. The conversation becomes lighter, and we enjoy each other's company once more.

After lunch, Zafar insists on taking me back to my bookstore. As we bid each other goodbye, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions. On the one hand, I'm glad that I was able to spend time with him to get to know him better. On the other hand, I'm worried about the sorrows that he carries, and I wish there was more I could do to help.

As I watch him leave, I make a silent promise to myself that I'll be there for him, even if it's just as a friend. I want him to know that he can lean on me when he needs support. Our friendship may have started unexpectedly, but I can't deny the genuine connection we share. And I'm willing to see where this journey with Zafar Romano takes us.

After bidding goodbye to Zafar, I turn around and find Lily, my energetic sixteen-year-old employee, standing there with a mischievous smirk on her face. Her curiosity is evident as she asks in a teasing tone, "Alright, Vee, who was that?"

My cheeks flush, and I try to play it cool as I reply in a slightly higher pitch, "Uh, no one." I find myself involuntarily hiding my hands behind my back and intermittently tiptoeing as if I'm a little girl who has just been caught stealing candy by her mom.

Lily's smirk widens, clearly seeing through my act. "Okay..." she says, drawing out the word with a knowing look. I let out a sigh, unable to hide the tiny smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I know there's no fooling Lily; she's too observant for that.

Shaking my head playfully, I return to working at my newly opened bookstore. However, my mind remains clouded with thoughts of a certain pair of grey eyes throughout the day. Zafar's presence has left an indelible mark on my thoughts, and I can't help but replay our lunch conversation in my mind.

What lingers most is the way he called me Love. 

The way he said it with such warmth and affection. It sends a flutter through my stomach, igniting a feeling I can't quite put into words. It's both thrilling and confusing as if my heart is caught up in a whirlwind.

But despite the flurry of emotions, I try to focus on my work, attending to customers, rearranging bookshelves, and tending to the day-to-day operations of the store. Yet, Zafar's presence continues to linger like a sweet scent that refuses to dissipate.

As the hours pass, I find myself stealing glances at the clock, eagerly anticipating the next time I'll see Zafar. The thought of his grey eyes and the possibility of hearing him call me "love" again makes my heart race.

But amidst the excitement, a sense of caution nags at the back of my mind. I remind myself to take things slow, to let our friendship develop naturally without rushing into anything. After all, we've only just met, and it's too early to determine where our connection may lead.

With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I continue my work with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The day may be busy, but my heart beats with the memory of Zafar's presence and the hope for future encounters.

𑁍𑁍

The day draws to a close, and I find myself standing outside my newly opened bookstore, a content smile gracing my lips. As I lock up the store, my mind remains clouded by a certain pair of grey eyes that have been occupying my thoughts since lunch. It was just a celebratory meal, he said, to mark my acceptance at the office where we first met. But I can't seem to stop thinking about him.

Deciding to share my joy with my loved ones, I dial my mom's number and invite her and Veer, my brother, to get ready and dress up. I want to celebrate my acceptance in the office with them. The anticipation builds as I make my way to our apartment, and I'm pleasantly surprised by the tight embrace Mom and Jace envelop me in as I step through the door. They congratulate me and immediately begin preparing for the celebration.

Stepping into my room, a slight pang of sorrow tugs at my heart as I realize my father, God knows where he is, won't be here to celebrate with us. I quickly push the thought away, not wanting it to overshadow my excitement. I rummage through my closet, finally deciding on a tight white dress that embraces my curves perfectly. Pairing it with white high heels and gold loop earrings, I retrieve my favorite necklace, a cherished gift from my father on my nineteenth birthday, and fasten it around my neck. A touch of red lipstick adds a vibrant pop of color to my look. Grabbing my Gucci purse and spritzing myself with a hint of Dior perfume, I feel a surge of confidence and excitement. It's going to be a memorable night.

Leaving my room, I'm greeted by Jace's lazy smile. He's dressed in a sleek black button-up shirt, perfectly complemented by black trousers and his chain necklace glinting in the light. Next, my eyes meet the sight of the most beautiful woman I know—my mom. She's wearing a flowing emerald dress that cascades elegantly to the floor, paired with sophisticated black heels. Her Dior bag is hooked on her arm, and she radiates an aura of grace and confidence.

We leave the apartment, and Jace drives us to a fancy restaurant. The atmosphere is enchanting, and we indulge in a delicious meal. Laughter fills the air as we share stories and reminisce about old times. Amidst the joyous conversation, my mom suddenly interrupts, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Alright, Vee, who's the lucky man?"

I'm taken aback, momentarily lost for words. "Am I that obvious?" I ask, my voice betraying a mix of surprise and amusement.

Jace chimes in with a smirk, "Yeah, Vee. You've been acting giddy the whole night and don't even try to hide it because we know your acceptance is not the reason for it."

Sighing in defeat, I realize I can't hide anything from them. I explained how I met this guy who was kind of annoying during my job interview. Surprisingly, he paid a visit to my bookstore and bought a nursery rhyme book, paying more than he should have. Then, this afternoon, he took me out to lunch, claiming it was to celebrate my acceptance. I can't help but describe his deep grey eyes, the way they seem to hold a world of stories and mysteries within them. I pause, realizing that I've been ranting about this boy and how much he has captured my thoughts. Mom and Jace exchange teasing smirks, and I know they won't let me live this down for the rest of the night.

Despite the teasing, I feel an overwhelming sense of happiness, surrounded by the love and support of my family. Yet, as the night progresses, a lingering worry about my father's safety finds its way back into my thoughts. I push it to the back of my mind, determined to cherish this moment and savor the joy of the evening.

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