under the covers [hs au]

chapter four.

Mahnoor rolled her eyes. "Alright, bye."

"No! I was joking," Samira took back her remark immediately, though she secretly meant what she said. "Don't leave."

"I have to now."

"Why . . . " Samira whined.

"I have guests coming soon. I love you."

"Fine." Samira sighed. "I love you, too, Mano."

Samira hung up and headed downstairs. Before dinner, Noureen and her family came over as tradition to say Eid Mubarak and to spend time with them. Noureen's mother, Rifa, kept a large smile on her face as she talked to Samira adoringly. They conversed over tea while eating homemade watalappam and boxed baklava. Before they left, Rifa Aunty gave Eidi to Samira's cousins: Ana, Amir, and Alia. Rifa Aunty offered Eidi to Samira unexpectedly, and before she could refuse, Aunty snatched her wrist, stuffing a wad of pounds in it.

Gingerly, Samira took her place by Alia, the youngest cousin at one year old. As Samira played peek-a-boo with Alia, Amir, the middle son, who ran back and forth to show Samira all the toys he got for Eid. The kids loved her and gave her endless attention the same way she did for them, dispelling her homesickness.

From the kitchen, Baneen Aunty's voice drifted into her ears. "Samira, do you mind coming here?"

Mouthwatering, Samira entered the kitchen to be greeted by the warm aroma of spices. It'd been too long since she stuffed herself with authentic Sri Lankan food; her mother's cooking was definitely something she missed on this particular day.

Samira sat on the counter next to the stove as Baneen Aunty stirred a steaming pot of curry. "You're hungry, aren't you?" Baneen Aunty asked.

"Duh," Samira laughed. "I hope you made biryani."

"I did. It's almost finished," she responded, yawning. "Feeling a bit tired."

"Eid hangover is going to hit hard. And, ugh, I have to go back tomorrow morning," She rolled her eyes, complaining. "And it's raining too!"

"Why didn't you choose to study here, instead? All Liverpool has is those lamb-bananas."

"Oh! I actually saw those the other day," Samira said excitedly, causing Baneen Aunty to shake her head. "Do you want to see?"

Baneen Aunty sighed. "Alright."

Samira showed Aunty all the pictures she took: the ones with only the lamb-bananas, the ones of her jumping in the air, and the ones in which she was hugging the lamb-bananas with both arms.

"You're so cute, Masha-Allah. I remember when you were small," Baneen Aunty cooed, pinching Samira's dimpled cheeks.

"Well, I'm old now."

"I'm 37; imagine how that feels."

"I do." Samira hunched over, dramatically twisting her face in agony. "Oh, the back pain . . ."

"Shut up," Baneen Aunty scolded, slapping Samira's arm with the back of her hand. "Have you made any more friends?"

"A decent amount," Samira answered. She couldn't withhold a smile.

"You should make them food. Your parents always did that for their friends on Eid."

Nodding in agreement, Samira said, "That's not a bad idea. But—"

"Before you say you can't cook, you can. I remember that kothu roti you made. It was delicious," Baneen Aunty beamed.

A groan escaped Samira's lips. "But that's a lot of work."