𝑰'𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅
𝑾𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒏
⚜
It's the 3rd time in a row where my eyes shoot open on their accord, making me grab my phone and click it on only to realize it's just 10 AM.
Wasn't it 9.59 AM the last time I checked?
I smack my forehead, toss the thing aside and turn to lay flat on my back against the mattress. Not as comfy as Fahad's, but enough to survive. I should get some more sleep. I school myself and shut my eyes as I did mere seconds ago.
But, my mind was wide awake, perhaps too awake for my usual lousy self, and just won't let me sleep for another minute. Since Fahad said, he'd come to get me today and we'll be spending the rest of the day together, there was no holding my horses back. My stomach flips, my heart skips more than a beat and a dreamy sigh leaves my mouth.
Fahad and Saira
Saira and Fahad.
Together.
Was all my mind kept running on a continuous loop. What will we do? Where will we go? I've been to Old City and all the 'Hills' there are here once. Will he take me shopping? Or to a restaurant? Or to a movie like they show on the TV? Young couples in love on a date, laughing and happy, walking hand in hand. Is that how today is going to be about? Is this a date?
Woah! That sounds crazy.
"I am going on a date," I say to myself, liking the feel of it then squeal loudly into my pillow.
The light flips on above me, Pho ambling into the room.
"Saira, bache are your up?"
"Yes, Pho." I slowly crawl out of the covers, sitting up and smiling at her. She beams, making her way towards me and taking me in a bear hug.
"Happy birthday, Saira doll. Allah meri bachi ko humesha khush rakhe, abaad rakhe. Kabhi koi museebat me na pardne de. Dono jahaan ki success aur khushiyon se nazawein meri doll ko. Do you know how lucky Fahad is? If I had a son his age, I'd reserve you for him the day you were born." I chuckle, as she plants a kiss on my forehead. "When is he going to be here?"
"I don't know. He said he'll ring me before reaching."
"Sounds good. Chalo then, go freshen up. Everyone is waiting for the birthday girl."
Just like Pho had said, everyone was gathered in the living room with smiles on their faces. I go around, one after the other, receiving kisses, blessings, hugs, and gifts.
"It seemed just like yesterday when I first held you in my arms." Papa says, caressing my hair lovingly.
"My baby has grown up so quickly!" Mumma exclaims, winding her arms around us. The three of us stand like that, in each other's arms relishing the moment.
"Bibi, khana lagadi main." Shaheen bi says, standing by the dining table. The corner of her eyes crinkles as she smiles at me, placing a moist hand on my head. "Khush raho, abaad raho, Allah aapki umar daraaz kare, choti bibi."
"Jazakallah." I thank and slide in the chair.
Glancing at the plethora of food on the table, I wonder how much should I eat. What if, Fahad takes me straight to lunch and I can't eat anything 'cuz I'm full already. That would definitely not look nice. Instead, I eat enough to last an hour or two max and eat again with him at whatever place he will take me.
My cheeks heat at the mere thought of spending time with my Hitler, and the next second, I'm grinning like an idiot.
"What?" Mummy asks.
"Huh? Nothing." Keeping my head down, I try not to think about anything but the slice of bread in my plate and focus on my chewing mechanism. But no avail. My mind was high on Fahad.
I was successfully taking the last bite of the toast, when my phone sounded faintly from inside the room.
"Fahad--" Was all I could manage, before I choke and go into a fit of coughs.
"Phone ki chakkar mein thaska lagaliyea." Mumma says, rubbing my back and not sending someone to get my phone.
(Take it easy. Slow down.)
"Call--" I pant, gulping down a glass of water. "Call aara Fahad ka."
"Sabar karo!" She snaps, taking baby steps towards my room and coming back years later with my phone. Quickly taking it from her hands, I re- dial his number and breathe a heavy 'hello'
"Why do you sound so weak? Theek hai tum?" He asks the next second.
"I'm fine, just choked on this stupid slice of bread."
"Mera call sunn ke?" (Because of my call?)
"Ji, seems that you are trying to kill me." His laugh echoed through the line.
"I might in the future, but aaj nahi. Today is precious." He says softly. My cheeks, sensing the trigger heat up, making me bite the inside so I don't smile.
"Where are you?" I ask, swiftly changing the subject.
"Abhi office se nikla. Yahan se ghar jaana hai, fresh hoke, I'll be there."
(Driving out of the office building. Will go home, change and will be there.)
"How long will that take?"
"Not much traffic, thankfully. Jaldi rahunga apni Jaana ke paas main. Don't worry." And he does it again. Driving me insane with his words.
(I'll be with my Jaana real soon.)
"Ok." I mutter quietly.
"Ok?" He snorts. "Ye nahi ke, 'haan bus jaldi se aajao. I can't wait to see you' and stuff?"
(Not, 'Be here already. I can't wait to see you.' and stuff?)
"Nahi. Sirf ok."
"Ok." He repeats. "So, that is our thing, ok?"
"Ok."
"It's too small, Jaana!" He whined. I picked up from the tone of his voice that he was having fun.
"Then find a big one yourself." I snap feeling eyes dart on me across the table. Gazing around me, I recall I had company. Papa, Mumma and Pho's mouths freezing at the same time.
A big one? Really?!
From the other end, Fahad let out another laugh.
"Is everyone else with you?"
"Yes!" I legit moaned into the device, as though he's hit the right spot. Papa's brows knit together. Mom clears her throat.
They probably think, I'm having phone sex with him. Oh my goodness me!
"Acha suno, what are you wearing?" I look down at myself.
"A fluffy black pajama with yellow crescent moon and stars and a green tshirt. Why?"
"Saira," Papa addresses.
"I'll talk to later." I squeak, and hang up without waiting for his response. "Ji, papa?"
"Finish your breakfast first."
A loud honk resonated in the quiet house, making me jump in my place.
"He is here!" Pho squeals beside me, clapping her hands in excitement.
"That's where Maryam gets it all from." I say, standing on my wobbly feet, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Koi shak?" She cocks a brow getting to her feet.
Behind me, Papa and Mumma, Pho and Ayra, Bade papa and his wife follow close behind me out the front door and to the main gate. Pushing it open, I am greeted by a beaming Fahad, clad in a white button up shirt and casual blue jeans leaning against the side if his car. On seeing us, he takes his shades off, which hid half his face, clearly taken aback by the scene.
Shooting me raised eyebrow as though asking what's going on, he bounces off the car and takes a couple of steps towards me.
"Abhi rukhsati nahi hai aapki beti ki. Shaam tak she'll be home." He says with the utmost seriousness, sounding almost scared.
(It's not your daughter's rukhsati now. She'll be home by tonight.)
"Arehh, humari doll ko bye bhi nahi bolsakte hum ache se?" Pho jokes.
(Can't we say a proper goodbye to our doll?)
"Mera woh matlab nahi tha, aunty. Of course, jaisa aaplog chahe. Main to bas reassure karra tha. I'm sorry." He adds fervently. "Agar aaplog ko nahi bhejna hai Saira ko mere saath to theek hai. It's fine, I understand aaplog ko trust karna asaan nahi hai mujhpe. But--"
(I didn't mean that, aunty. Of course anything you like. I was just trying to reassure you. I'm sorry. If you don't want to send Saira with me, it's fine. I understand it's not easy for you all to trust me--)
"Arey, baba, mazakh karre hum." Bade papa says lightly.
(We were messing with you.)
"Aur maza bhi lootre the." Pho ridicules.
(And having fun, too.)
"Kab wapas drop karre?" Papa asks.
(When will you drop her home?)
"8. Ya 9 PM max." He replies quickly. The lines only deepening on his forehead.
"10 ya 10.30 karlo." Mumma offers, making him smile somewhat.
"10.30 se pehle Saira ghar pe rahingi." He affirms in confidence.
(She'll be home before 10.30.)
"Good. Now go and have fun."
"Take care!"
We bid our farewells, walking towards the passenger seat of the car. Fahad pulls the door open and waits till I settle like a gentleman before jogging over to his side and slipping in the drivers seat.
"That was. . .intense." He breathes, bringing the engine back to life. I chuckle in response, waving to my family as the car backed down the lane. "You're laughing?! Socho mera kya haal hua hunga!"
(Think about how I felt!)
"Kiya haal hua?" I stress.
(How?)
"I felt like Raziya ghundo mein phasgai. Your family is scary, especially when it comes to you. I was ready to drop the entire plan if it meant I'll save my life."
"Ohhh?"
"Aur nahi to kiya!"
(Yeah!)
"Theek hai phir. Drop kardo mujhe wapas. I'll stay home." I say, folding my arms.
(Alright. Take me back then. I'll stay home.)
"Nahi karsakta na." He clicks his tongue. "Poora din kharab hojata phir mera."
(Can't do. It'll ruin my day.)
"How so?"
"Wo ayse," He pauses as we wait for the signal to turn green, leaning in. "I'll have upset my Jaana on her birthday, by running away 'cuz of her family." The next moment, his face is mere inches from mine. Our noses brushing against eachother.
"And, today is very precious. Main aaj ka din aysa waste nahi karsakta na. It's our first date." He says, pressing his forehead against mine. His minty breath mixed with his strong cologne makes my head spin.
"It's our date?"
"Birthday to bahana hai, asal to date pe jaana hai, Jaana." I chuckle at his mini shayari.
(Birthday is just an excuse for going on a date, Jaana.)
Reaching for the seatbelt, he pulls it across my torso fastening it in the buckle before plopping down in his seat. The light turned green, and we were driving again. Taking my right hand in his, he entwined our fingers. The pad of his thumb, drawing circles at the tender skin on the back of my hand.
"I couldn't even take a proper look at you." He grumbles, placing our hands on his thigh. A soft chortle leaves my mouth.
"Where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?" I blink at his words. Shouldn't he be having a plan or a layout of the day with all the places we'd go to? Why is he asking me?
"I'm asking in case you have something on your mind and we could do things the way you want. I'm open either way. All I care is you being happy."
"You have a plan?"
"I do. But, like I said, tell me what you want." He stresses.
"I was thinking we'd go on the typical cliche date. Food, movies, shopping and stuff." I say honestly. "But with you, I have no idea."
"Plan yeich tha, initially." He admitted. "Phir main socha ke, you come from US. Shopping, movies and food is no big deal to you. I mean, you've seen way better than what we have here."
"Fahad, I didn't mean--"
"I'm not saying ki humara Hyderabad kuch kam hai. Yaha bhi wahi sab hai, bus wo level ka nahi hai. Toh inn tamaam cheezon ko mad-e-nazar rakhte hue main ye conclusion pe aaya ke, why not give you a taste of India."
"Taste of India?"
"Haan. Matlab, no shopping, no movie. Kyuki that would simply be waste of time. Apan ek date pe jaare. Our first. It has to be special. Aur cinema and shopping is not special." I grin at his words.
"Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to save money or be kanjoos. Lekin, kuch aysa karna chahru ke apan ku yaad rehna apni first date zindagi bhar. You know what I mean?"
(I'm just trying to make this into something memorable so we won't forget all our lives. You know what I mean?)
"Perfectly."
"Shukar!"
"Acha ab to batado hum kahan jaare?" After a dramatic pause, he finally answers.
(At least tell me where we're going?)
"We are," Drum rolls please," going on a picnic." He makes a cute face.
"A picnic?"
"That's right. But before that, we need to go shopping. Grocery shopping." Fahad says it in 'Bond. James Bond' style, earning a nervous smile from me.
We stop before a tall white washed building with the name 'Big Bazaar' in blue and orange glowing under the sun.
Grocery? Oh, how much I hate it!
I mentally groan at the name, but quickly check myself when Fahad comes over and pulls my door open. "Chalo!"
"Umph." The sound leaves my mouth as I dreadfully push my body out of the seat.
"What's wrong?" I think of lying, feeding him vague false shit. But one look at his face and I know the least i could do for my man is be honest.
Maybe, he will change his mind? Who knows.
"I hate grocery shopping!" I say, not meeting his gaze. He tips my chin, making me look at him.
"Hate is a strong word, Jaana."
"Nahi pasand naaaa!" I protest, ready to jump back in.
(I just don't like it!)
"Isliyea nahi pasand kyuki you've never been shopping with me. Fahad Abdullah." I scowl. "And, khane kuch nahi rehta picnic pe if we don't go in there. We'll just have to sit and stare at each other's faces, which I can do forever. But that's besides the point. Ab chalo." He takes hold of my hand, and begins dragging me into the mall.
"Fahad!"
"I'm telling you, it'll be fun. Trust me, Jaana."
"I do, lekin--grocery!"
"Shhhhh!" He quickly twirls around. "Finger on your lips. Ek awaaz nahi."
"Meri lipstick kharaab hojati." Snorting, he shakes his head at me and continues his walk. He grabs a cart and enters the building.
(It'll ruin my lipstick.)
"Woah! This is huge." I exclaim blinking at the floors stacked and bustling with people before me, so unlike our single floor Target. "It's a weekday, right?"
"Doesn't really matter for us Indians. Always time for shopping." No kidding. Silently ambling beside him, we wound our way through the crowd. "Okay so, tell me kahan jana hai."
"How do I know?"
"Find out for us, Jaana." He smirks.
"So, this is your version of fun? Making me run around the place like a mad woman."
He pulls a face that I knew not to argue after. "Ji!"
"Atleast tell me which floor!"
"Main nahi bataunga!" (I won't say.)
"Hitler mat bano aaj, please."
(Don't turn Hitler today, please.)
"I can't help it. You push me all the time."
"Untrue!" I gasp, smacking his forearm. He feigns a mock pain expression massaging the area I just hit.
"Come on, tell me. You're wasting time." I remind.
"Second floor. Ab uske aage you're the boss." I grumble a fine in response, following him to the elevator.
We talk legit rubbish the entire way to the fresh foods isle then discuss which apple to pick.
"It's pale." I hover over the side. "That is better."
"It's way too red. I'm sure ander kharab hai." Fahad analyzed. His brows pulled together, a finger resting on his chin as if in deep thought then pointing to the other pile of apples altogether, he says. "Let's buy these. Juicy and crunchy rehte."
"Fahad knows best." I smile a bit too widely earning his narrowed eyes.
"Ok, stop taunting."
"I'm not!"
We wound our way to the refrigerator section, arguing whether to buy Thumbs up or Appie Fizz. And Maaza or Fruiti. Then over to the bakery section, choosing between white bread or brown bread. Nutella or Jam was a whole new chapter. In the end, we bought all of them.
"Ab bolo, chocolate icecream ya strawberry?" Fahad asks wickedly bouncing his brows, knowing all too well where that question will take us. Another endless argument.
"Let's just buy a neapolitan flavor. It has chocolate, strawberry and vanilla as bonus." He lets out a sigh, scanning the rows before clicking his tongue.
"No sign of neapolitan anywhere."
"Would we have a cooler with us?"
"I have one for the drinks. Why?"
"Icecream leke kiya faida when it's going to melt."
"Point." He says, keeping the tubs back. "Mere saath rehke smart hote jaare tum. I like it."
(You're turning into a smarty pants by spending time with me. I like it.)
"Oh please! I was smart pehle se hi." I roll my eyes pushing the cart forward. "Anything else? Or can we go?"
"Hogya, I think." We head towards the check out and load the conveyer belt with everything we got. Which was just over a quarter of the store.
"This is too much!" I say panicking as realization dawned on me. "Fahad, this is alot of food and everything else. We won't finish this in one go. I'm gonna throw some stuffs out."
"Uh-huh." He stops me, loping his arm around me waist like a belt. "You're doing no such thing."
"Bohot saara hai ye."
"Take them home."
"Mumma will shred me to pieces if I take home even quarter of this."
No crap, but my mother dearest climbs to the highest degree of Desiness especially when it comes to grocery shopping. She'd simply throw away 'bekar stuffs I load the cart with' making me hate the place altogether. There was a point in life when I'd have to secretly ask Papa to get all my stuffs just so she doesn't scold me. Everyone talks about a desi father's anger, but they fail to acknowledge that desi mothers are supreme in that matter.
"I'll talk to her, don't worry."
"Lekin--"
"Shh!" He leans in, pressing his mouth to my forehead instantly shutting me up. "It's ok."
"Pakka?"
"Of course, Jaana. This is nothing!" Fahad coos softly while paying the bill.
"So, how was your grocery shopping with me?" He asks, once we settled down in our seats.
"Theek." I mumble pulling out a pack of baked goodies and ripping it open.
"Bus theek? Ye nahi ke, bhot maza aaya? You made it so enjoyable, Fahad!"
"You want jhooti tareefein?" Kissing his teeth, he titlts his head to the side.
"Anything would do." Rolling my eyes, I put the familiar-looking biscuits in my mouth, letting the taste hit.
"Oh, these are nice! Just like the one's we get back in Costco."
"Jaana, aah." I snap the heart shaped sugar coated biscuit in half, and pop it in his mouth.
"How far is the place?"
"An hour."
"Tab tak?" I ask, propping my elbow on the armrest between us and resting my chin in the heart of my palm, staring at him.
"Tab tak," He pauses to swallow, just when hs stomach rumbles loudly. "Feed me."
"Ye sahi hai. Biwi wale kaam karwalo saare abhi se." He chuckles. "What do you want to eat?"
"Aap zeher diye to bhi khalinge, Jaana."
(I'll have poison too if you want.)
"Isshh! Such a dramebaaz man I've got!"
"You know you love me." He grins.
"Do I know that? No, I don't."
"No?"
"Mm-mmm."
"Dekhlinge." I shoot him a lopsided smile, batting my lashes with innocence.
✊🏻💞
Tell how you found Fahad's plan of doing something hatke!
The next part will be up in a day or two. See y'all there!!
Hasta la vista, babezz!
Much love,
~𝓓𝓲𝓱𝓪