Chapter 2

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Where is he, where is he...? That's the only thought running through my mind right now. The stench of hundreds of foreign people in the airport was already starting to bug me, and the fact that I didn't know what he looked like didn't calm me down.

Adeel Hasan, the main topic of my dad these days. Since Uncle Wahid, and his family came to visit, Baba has been twice as excited as me to see Uncle Wahid's youngest son, which, techinically isn't a lot since I don't give a flying poop. Sure, we used to play around when we were kids, but, honestly? He was an immature brat who always used to love to annoy me. But, that seems to be a pattern for every guy I come across!

I was secretly hoping for three things;

1) His flight is delayed for at least a couple of days.

2) He get's lost in this giant airport

3) I never get to recognize him, so I can go home alone... Peacefully.

I'm sorry, do I sound like I'm pissed? Good. It's my time of the month, and realizing a certain pain-in-the-ass is coming to live with my family isn't so soothing. Yes, 15 years is a very long time for someone to change, but Adeel's sibblings have filled me in; his immaturity hasn't decreased one bit! But, they did say he changed physically. I wonder what they meant by that. Hopefully, he's gotten taller. When we were little, I was taller than him.

Ha, loser.

Anyway, it's been two hours since I reached this rotten airport, and he still hasn't shown up. My mood has officially acclaimed the award of being tortured. For the past hour and a half, I busied myself with Angry Birds, but, now, my phone's screen flashes me an empty battery sign before blanking out. I clench me teeth, and force my arms to calmly lay straight on my sides, and not, you know, rip my hair out.

Just as I was putting my phone away, the annoying lady on the speaker annouces, "Mahum Kamal, please report to the front check-in. Mahum Kamal, front check-in, please." I mentally snickered at her accent. You should pronounce the 'K' from your epiglottis.

When I reach the check-in desk, a blonde air-hostess greets me.

"Are you Ms. Ma-Mahum Ka-"

"Yes, I'm Mahum Kamal," I finish for her. She sends me an apologetic look before motioning for me to follow her.

"Please wait here, you're husband will be right there." As soon as those words left her mouth, I started choking on the air. Husband!?

I was shaken out of my thoughts with a light tap on my shoulder. I slowly turn my head to come face to face with a rose, bringing a smile on my face. My eyes follow the rose, to an arm, to a the biggest shock of my life yet.



As soon as my feet make contact with the solid ground, I was ready to kiss it! I wasn't ready to fly on a plane 6 years ago, and I'm still not ready now! I start to take a huge gulp of breath, but start choking on it. Well, that was a fail. The red-headed air hostess who was trying to flirt with me on the plane, comes hurriedly to me, looking concerned. Bullshit. Pushing- no, shoving, past an elderly couple, she's basically speed-walking. My feet are glued to the spot, as I watch my personal doom advancing towards me. Suddenly, my brain starts working again, and I know that it's my cue to leave, well, run away.

About five minutes after the wild goose chase, I make my way, panting for my heart to resume its normal rate, to the nearest check in. But, before I could go any farthur, I notice a guy leaning against it. He wore a white undershirt, with black suspenders tied to loose trousers. I spent a minute just crouched over, applying pressure to my abdomen, breathing heavily, and thinking, wow, those actually exist! Oh, not to mention the thick, black-rimmed glasses.

My phone rings, snapping me out of my observation. Papa.


"Why do you sound like you were running?" Hello to you, too, Dad.

"Um, no reason...?"

"Anyway, have seen Mahum, yet?" Shit! How am I suppose to meet her if I don't even know what she looks like!? But, of course, I don't say that to my dad.

"Papa, I don't even know what she looks like..." I let in a tone of innocence.

"Oh," he seemed stuck for ways to yell at me. Got him. "Okay, whatever, she looks like someone with a brain and common sense."

I roll my eyes at his attempt at making me feel under-accomplished. I mean, it would have to be the day the ground sinks in when I admit that a girl is better than me. As if.

"Papa, I'm serious. What does she look like?"

"Long black hair, glasses, shalwar-kameez { A/N type of clothing}," of course. She would turn into a geek.

"Alright, I'll try to find her," nevermind the fact that you only gave me little description, "I'll talk to you, then."

"Good-bye, son." I roll my eyes, sure, act like I'm your son the minute we stop talking. The minute we hang up, I spot a girl that matched the description.

I smirk to myself, as my eyes, again, land on the poorly-fashioned guy, a plan already taking place in my head.

Surpressing a laugh, this sure was going to be a unique re-union!


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