Eclipse of Heart

12 | Date

I feel a warm sense of trust from her as she hands me her bag. It's a small gesture, but it means a lot to me.

"Do you want me to carry the roses too?" I ask, gesturing towards the bouquet as I sling her bag over my other shoulder. "Nope," she replies, hugging the bouquet to her chest.

It would be nice if it was me she was hugging like that.

Too stupid Aryan. Too stupid. My conscious remind me not so politely.

As we enter the food street, it's bustling with activity. People crowd around food stalls, creating a lively atmosphere. I stay close to Amaira, not touching her but making sure she's safe in the crowd.

"So, which one?" I ask as we pause for a moment. She scans the entire street, standing on her tiptoes to see over the crowd. "Everything looks good," she says, her eyes shining with excitement.

If there was a face for heart eyes, it would be hers.

"We do match the foodie energy, don't we?" I comment, looking at her. She nods, distracted, before grabbing onto my shoulder to steady herself.

"There," she points towards a stall, and I follow her gaze, trying not to dwell on the warmth of her hand on my shoulder. "I'm craving some kebab, and they seem to have a variety there," she says, stepping back and removing her hand from my shoulder.

"Cool, let's go," I say, letting her lead us through the crowd, keeping my arms around her when people push past. I keep them in front of me like a protective shield until we reach the stall.

"Finally," I mutter under my breath as we reach the stall, and she hands me the bouquet before rushing off to join the queue. "What do you want?" she shouts over the noise of the crowd. "Anything spicy," I shout back, and she gives me an impressed smile before disappearing into the crowd. A few minutes later, she returns with two plates of sizzling kebabs and sits beside me.

"This looks good," she says, taking a bite with a satisfied expression.

I watch as Amaira digs into her food, her expression one of pure enjoyment. It's refreshing to see her so relaxed and carefree, away from the stress of our usual encounters. I take a bite of the kebab, savoring the spicy flavor, but my attention keeps drifting back to her.

"You were right, this is delicious," I comment, trying to focus on the food rather than the way her smile lights up her face.

She looks up at me with a grin, a hint of spice lingering on her lips. "Told you!" she says triumphantly, and I can't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

As Amaira takes a bite of the kebab, a smudge of spice lingers above her lips. Without thinking, I instinctively lean forward, my thumb brushing against her skin as I wipe it away. She freezes at the sudden touch, her eyes widening in surprise. I quickly pull back, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I realize what I've done.

"Uh, sorry about that," I stammer, desperately trying to change the subject. "So, what's your favorite type of food?" I ask, hopthato steer the conversation away from my awkward blunder.

Amaira clears her throat, her expression returning to normal as she considers my question. "Hmm, nothing in particular," she replies with a smile, "But I love my grandmother's cooking. She makes the best dishes."

Relieved that she's brushed off my clumsy gesture, I nod in agreement. "Grandmother's recipes are always the best," I say, grateful for the chance to move past the awkward moment.

"What's your favorite?" Amaira asks, keeping the conversation going.

"I like anything spicy, I guess. I enjoy trying different types of food, so I don't have a particular favorite," I answer, shrugging. I take a bite of the kebab, savoring its spicy flavor.