MIKAYLA
. . .
I paste the tiny black bindi between my eyebrows and look at myself. This was the last thing I needed to put on and I cannot help but give myself a flying kiss at how beautiful I look.
Like always.
I apply some lip stain, covering my plump lips with a layer of pink gloss. Once done, I turn around and grab my colorful dupatta.
Mama's choice is pretty. Too much, as she has chosen for me a set of black patiala suit with a heavy — not too heavy — colorful dupatta that is shiny, too. But I won't go downstairs to praise her for it because I know she has selected such an amazing piece for this meeting only.
She wants me to wear it for him.
Can you just believe it? I have not even become his wife and my Mama is on her mission of teaching me how to impress my husband.
Aww. Her sweet intentions are pure but she does not know that I might mix poison in his food to kill him if things between that Blondie and I try to cross the limit.
Grabbing my purse, I walk downstairs. Everybody who is in the living room stares at me and my Granny, like always, is already raising her arm to give me a flying kiss.
"Bilkul mujh par gayi hai, meri poti," she says and grins at me while I also respond with a bright smile.
No, I am not parting my lips already to ruin my pretty lip makeup.
My Mama chuckles and approaches me. "Oh, how pretty you look, my beautiful daughter!" She cups my face. "The Lord has indeed given me the prettiest girl in the world." Oh, Mama, every mother in the world is like this for her daughter.
How dramatic!
I smile at her.
"Pray that Barak won't faint," my sister-in-law also comments, giving me a flying kiss. He may die for all I care.
I roll my eyes, wanting to divert the topic. "I'm going now, okay?" I step away to leave. They nod at me. I walk over to my Granny and give her a hug.
"Nice perfume."
"Miss Dior, Granny. Eliab's gift." I blink at her. She raises her eyebrows but I know she doesn't know any Miss Dior. Actually, it's good. My grandmother is the cutest being on the earth.
"Oye Soniye, kithe chali ae?" Here comes the son of my sister-in-law, Ayaz. Being a little boy, he calls me Soniye.
"Bua hu mai teri," I say, squeezing his cheeks.
"But you call me Jani," he shows his toothy grin and a tooth is missing which makes me laugh. It's okay. I'll apply gloss again on my way to the cafe.
"But you don't call me Soniye," I pull his cheeks and he groans, releasing himself and running away to hide behind Granny's swinging chair.
"Okay, just pull my cheeks. It hurts," he murmurs, caressing his red cheeks.
"Dramebaaz," I murmur, rolling my eyes. Haven't I seen his friend pulling his cheeks whenever she comes home? There he giggles and here it hurts him?
I don't spend my time more home because my Mama doesn't even let me. She tells me that Blondie must be waiting for me and I shouldn't make him wait.
Huh!
I leave, driving my car to the destination. Thank goodness that Eliab isn't with me. I can talk with Barak and I hope he understands. Meeting him after almost five years, I expect some sense to be put into his head so he can understand my situation and let go of me, saying 'no' to his parents.
He knows about my relationship with Ibzan. If he proceeds with the truth, I may punch him in the face or even scratch it. My nails are also newly made. Barak should pray for it.
I park the car and walk inside the building. He invited me to a cafe for this conversation. He could have selected another place but for me, this one is better. I can have two cups of coffee or tea if the conversation goes longer than expected.
Keeping my overcoat on my forearm, I begin looking for him around. The place is not very crowded, making it easier for me.
I don't know how much he has changed in these years but it is easy to find him among people because of his blond hair.
Biting back a smile, I spot his blond head among the black ones. His back faces me as he is sitting on the brown leather couch. The table he has selected is right beside the glass wall. Behind the table, there is a dark wall, decorated with neon quotes and hanging vines.
Nice choice.
I walked over to him, not excited even a bit.
A waitress is attending a table, collecting the stuff. I reach the table and right then, the waitress bends, accidentally pushing me onto him.
And I fell over him, gasping.
My arms encircle his neck while his hand touches my back, warm fingers kissing my skin because the dress being backless — not too much, I must add.
He does it to balance me, holding himself so that my weight accidentally won't push him on the couch. Thoughtful. Or else I would have made him my bed.
With eyes wide open, I stare at him dumbfounded. His electric blue eyes stare deep into mine, fascinating and alluring my very soul to drown in them — how beautiful.
With parted lips, his soft breaths tingle the skin of my lips and on his cheeks, there is a slight pink hue. Is he too shy or it's because of the cold weather, I wonder.
But I wonder very deep inside, not even realizing that this is not my first concern.
For the time being, I'm embarrassed. I quickly gather myself and turn around, immediately having the waitress bow as she apologizes to me.
"Can't you see? You just pushed me onto him!" I can't help but utter, frowning at her.
"I'm so sorry, Miss. I had no idea you were—" Just shut up with your stupid excuses!
"It's okay. She's my fiancée." I feel the warmth of his presence behind my back as he stands up, too. He comes closer, his feather touch lingering over my shoulder.
What the hell! We aren't even engaged yet. I frown at the lie, looking at him from the corner of my eye but all of a sudden, I question this height difference.
He is so tall! I can only reach his shoulder. I could have selected heels but they won't look good on this outfit.
"Oh," the waitress chirps, "God bless you, Sir and Madam. How pretty you two look together." Oh shut up, you blind woman. We don't look good together — at all!
I hear him humming in response and the waitress leaves.
My mood is ruined, to be honest. After she leaves, I turn around, jerking him away, and take my seat in front of him. He also makes himself comfortable and once again, my eyes greet his face.
I had no expectations from him, and I am not lying because he was always this pretty.
Being an adorable — ahem, I'm not head over heels already — son of a handsome father, I knew he would grow into a man just like his father. Haven't I seen Mr Dawood? No doubt, Blondie has inherited those mesmerizing features except for his blue eyes and blond hair. But that doesn't subtract even a pinch of handsomeness from his features.
In college, his so-called handsome face was indeed pretty and even after the years have passed, I have not found much difference except for the stubble he has grown, just like Ibzan.
He used to walk around with that shiny appearance and girls would lie flat at his hypnotizing cologne which left its traces behind from wherever he walked.
But why am I discussing with my soul about his charms? I shoo away these useless thoughts, walking back to my previous concern.
Speaking of Ibzan, I can't help but notice that Blondie has arrived on time, unlike Ibzan, who always came ten or fifteen minutes late. I don't know exactly how long I have taken to reach here but I don't regret making him wait.
He wanted to meet me, right? Now bear my tantrums. Though I always keep in mind the importance of time, I deliberately decided to take more time doing makeup. I took a long shower, longer than usual, so that I could waste some time and make him wait.
I hope I have made him wait a good minutes.
Well, half an hour late.
"What would you like to have?" He asks, making no comment about my being late though I expected it.
"Coffee," I say, leaning back.
He nods and then makes the orders. He asks for the same. Two cups arrive while we wait. He holds his cup and takes a sip, looking at me over the rim. I narrow my eyes at him and he answers, "I wasn't expecting you to wear a traditional dress." Is that why he was staring at me? He runs his gaze down my outfit.
Oh, stop doing that!
"Your fault," I mutter, holding my cup. "I'm not fond of wearing traditional dresses."
He gives me a mysterious smile, lowering his gaze.
"Still the same," he comments, putting down the cup. "So is that specifically for me?"
I give him a fake smile, batting my eyelashes. I don't care about his expectations of me and yes Blondie, all that you see is for you but I didn't want it. It's just my Mama. Or else not even in your most pleasant dream I'm getting ready just to show you.
"Why shouldn't we come to the point?" I get his attention. He nods his head and I don't waste a single second, adding, "I don't wanna marry you."
He raises his eyebrows. "Well, Uncle Aaron said otherwise," he says, now not paying any attention to his cup.
"Hm, not my fault, again. I have denied it already but they want me to marry you. Guess what? Nobody is ready to pay any heed to my consent. They have decided already."
"Then what do you expect from me?"
Jerk! He knows very well yet is trying to be smart.
"You can say no to your parents and it's going to be smooth and simple!" I take a sip, giving him a hard look over the rim of my cup.
He twists his bottom lip. Pink, I can't help but notice. He opens his mouth to say something when his mobile buzzes. I roll my eyes. Men and their work. It reminds me of Ibzan.
I expect him to answer the call but he actually declines it and puts it aside. Unlike Ibzan.
Am I already beginning to compare them?
"And why would I be doing that?" He asks, receiving a hard glare from me.
Guess what? I expected him to understand me in vain! How could I forget he is my enemy? Bachpan se!
Clenching my jaw, I put down my cup. "Because... you don't want to marry me, right?" I tilt my head, sitting upright.
I see his lips stretching into a subtle smirk. He, too, leans ahead and sets his elbows on his knees. "Well, it doesn't matter what I want. My parents want me to marry you and I'm doing that," he says with that innocent look which I know how much is innocent.
This Blondie of Indian parents.
Wasn't I right when I said he wouldn't leave this chance of torturing me legally? He is here to avenge what I did to him in our childhood.
"You can't marry me."
"Why can't I?"
"Because I don't wanna marry you. We have no match; aren't made for each other. And besides, I love Ibzan and I'll marry him so it's better if you—"
"Well, if you love him so much, then why not tell your parents about it?"
I clench my jaws, stopping myself. Now I can't speak of my condition of being unable to make my parents understand that Ibzan is made for me, not this Blondie.
"You think I'd keep myself from it?"
He remains silent, staring at me with that silent look. I don't care if he is angry or whatever.
"I told them everything about us but you know what? They have put your picture in their hearts and don't see any other guy better than you. As I said, they have made the decision."
"Then don't expect anything from me either." His eyebrows corrugate as I see a hint of anger appearing in his eyes. "I'm not going against my parents."
I scoff. "So you're ready to marry me, huh? See Blondie, you won't be able to tolerate me any longer. Keep in mind how we have spent our childhood."
"I remember everything." He shrugs. "And about you being wild..." I gape at him for the choice of his words, "I can take care of you and your brattiness. I have my ways."
His ways, my foot!
"How dare you say I'm wild!" Driven by anger, I grip the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer and glaring into his cold eyes.
"See," he lowers his gaze to his collar in my grip which I hold even tighter, jerking him closer. He only smirks, gently pushing down my metal bangles, his fingers caressing my wrist meanwhile.
The contact of our skins makes my heart react strangely and my face starts becoming hot. His gentleness is charming.
"Don't you dare," I warm him but he
moves over it. He smiles at me, holding my wrist which I quickly snatch, letting go of him.
"I won't say anything to my parents. We'll marry," he declares.
I sit speechless, thinking of any way so that he can deny but him being his Mama's boy, won't say no to his parents. How can I make him, I wonder, sitting silently as he busies himself with the coffee.
He enjoys every sip while staring out through the glass wall where there is nothing interesting. He seems busy in his mind, deep in thoughts.
I look down at my cup, mind wandering over different things as chaos grips it. And among those topics, I realized something which I think can make him step back and find someone else for himself.
Surely, he will deny it after listening to me.
"I'm not a virgin." My words halt him. He looks at me, the coffee losing all his attention. To make it clearer, I say, "Ibzan and I — we've had sex."
He narrows his eyes as if doubting me.
"I'm not lying," I say, almost in a murmur. And indeed, it's not a lie. My cheeks burn because of the embarrassment that I feel while telling him something as personal as this.
He would be judging me in his head. He won't sit silently after knowing this and I ready myself for a cruel comment because I expect nothing good from him. But at least this judgment would save me from marrying him.
Instead of saying a word, he continued sipping the coffee, humming.
"What hmm?"
"Still."
"What?" I gasp. "You can't marry me after knowing this!"
"It's my wish." He shrugs, keeping his eyes down. "I'll marry you."
His answer shut my mind and I couldn't think of anything. Not even about the reason that made him marry me even after knowing that I'm not a virgin. I literally couldn't think of anything better than this but I was sure he was determined. I saw it in his eyes. He firmly told me that he would marry me.
"Are you seriously serious?" Who would want to marry a girl who isn't a virgin?
"I am."
I could only stare at him. We shared no words after. I grabbed my purse and decided to leave. He was walking behind me and offered me a ride but I declined, walking towards my car.
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There's still more to write about their meeting but the chapter is already 2k+
I hope you liked it. Please, don't be a silent reader and vote and comment. I'll try to update asap.
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