The gulab jaamun looked extra delicious as Israh eyed the plate on the coffee table, wondering whether she should just take one. Nobody had taken it yet, and everyone was so engrossed in a conversation about the country's declining economy that Israh found it hard to resist the temptation.
Hamza had gone to explore the backyard with his mother and sister, so Israh couldn't get him involved in her plans to steal a sweet off that plate. And when was aunty going to suggest a tour of the house?
The interior was so beautiful, pristine and neat that Israh was curious about the rest of the house now. Warm shades of brown and beige with sprinkles of green adorned the entire living room. A bright fire was lit at the fireplace, soft pink roses within a small white vase was perched atop the centre of the coffee table and three picture frames hung off the wall over the fireplace. The first one was of Moiz, Asad's older brother who Israh learnt had passed away in an accident a year and a half ago. The second framed picture was a family photo with both Moiz and Asad in the middle, aunty standing next to Moiz and uncle standing next to Asad. The final picture was a graduation photo of Asad. All three photos oozed happiness and warmth. Israh found herself smiling at the joy, but also sadly at the imagination of how Moiz's absence must have affected this beautiful family.
A person eventually learned to live without a loved one, but it didn't mean that the absence of someone so dear ever hurt any less. Israh didn't know much about such a close death and grief and all of that, but she thought maybe it was something like longing for those childhood memories. Something like wanting to go back to a simpler time when everything was fine, when the world was vast, never-ending and possibilities were infinite, but knowing with crushing realisation that that time was over and could never be recovered. It was something like being desperate to be yourself after having lost everything that ever made you, you.
Perhaps, it was more about the confusion, about the feeling disoriented in that vast, infinite world that once was exuberant, and now rushed at you with biting force.
Someone asked for water and aunty was about to get up to retrieve it, but Israh stood up before she could. "I'll go get it."
Israh would be lying if she said she was just being nice about it. No. She was hoping there was a box of mithai somewhere in the kitchen waiting to be opened by her. Water was a good excuse to go hunting for something to satisfy her sweet tooth.
Aunty protested but Israh was insistent and headed toward the kitchen before anyone could stop her again.
and ta-da! "Bingo." She muttered excitedly as she practically hopped toward the island and almost ripped open the box.
Her mouth watered at the sight of so many gulaab jaamuns, so she quickly grabbed one and stuffed it into her mouth before anyone came looking for her, wondering why she couldn't find the bottle of water placed so clearly on the shelf.
"Mhmm, so good!" She gushed, as the sweet melted on her tongue and burst into the most delicious sugary flavour ever.
She headed to the shelf, grabbed the water bottle as she swallowed the last bit and turned to head back to the living room when she froze, near a heart attack.
And then she hiccuped at the sight of him at the entrance of the kitchen, watching her with an amused smile on his stupidly handsome face. Israh covered her mouth embarrassed, heat prickling her skin.
Ya Allah, why does this always happen to me?
"In my defence, somebody ought to eat those." She spoke rapidly, not knowing since when he'd been standing there watching her act crazy, like a creep and how much he'd seen. Surely, getting caught stealing a gulaab jaamun wasn't the worst thing that could happen to her, so she just decided to shake it off and act nonchalantly even if deep inside she was absolutely mortified.
His shoulders shook just slightly as he chuckled, before he stepped in holding two plastic bags of something. "Don't worry. They're all yours."
Israh was convinced he had stars in his eyes because nobody's eyes could ever just freaking twinkle like that. It was impossible. He was...unreal. A piece of fiction probably. Or was she making all that up because she read so many romantic novels that she was beginning to blur the lines between reality and fantasy? Hm. The latter option seemed extremely possible.
"Cool." Cool?
He placed the bags on the island without moving his gaze away from hers. She stared back. If he was being shameless, why could she not?!
Astaghfirullah. You're going insane, Israh!
"Cool." He mimicked.
He tilted his head in that beguiling manner that Israh was a sucker for, and that was the signal that she needed to make a move. Not on him, but rather away from him lest her thoughts strayed to...indecent paths.
"I just came to get some water." He nodded. "And now I'm gonna go."
She planned to hurry out of there at a record time, but then he called her name and it sounded weirdly sweet escaping his mouth, with a gentle timbre to his voice and she had to stop mid-way. Was this what people meant by getting butterflies in their stomach? It was ticklish and rather sweet. It felt good. Gleeful even.
She turned around. He turned to take something out of one of the plastic bags, and when he faced her again he was holding a small bouquet of white tulips in his hand. He thrusted it toward her with the cutest little blush on his cheeks, and an equally flustered smile on his lips. "Ehm...this is for you."
She reached for the beautiful tulips and lightly touched them, the gesture deeply pleasing to her flower-loving soul. "Thank you." She whispered.
He nodded, looking away from her and rubbing the back of his neck as he occupied himself with taking out the other items in the bag.
She grinned at him even if he didn't see, then with a fluttering heart she returned to the living room. Sidra eyed the bouquet in her hand when Israh placed the water bottle on the table, but one look at Ruqayya aunty and it seemed like she knew where the flowers had come from.
"Asad aa gaya?" (has Asad come?) Sikander asked, and Israh felt the embarassing heat take over her face again.
What was more awkward than a parent catching a gesture of affection between a soon-to-be married couple?! Nothing.
"Gi, abbu. He's just in the kitchen."
As if on cue, Asad appeared in the room and all attention slipped from her to him. It wasn't even about him arriving late or about him being Israh's future partner.
Israh was certain that Asad possessed a magnetism like no other. His aura seemed soft and subdued, and quiet, but when he entered a room he clearly attracted everyone's attention without much effort from his part. Everyone's eyes turned to him, everyone's kind words welcomed him in and though humble, Asad surely basked in the great feeling of being wanted. Who wouldn't?
Hamza's voice echoed in the place once everyone had sat back down from greeting Asad, and in mere seconds the guy was jumping on Israh with two plucked roses in his hand.
"Awe Hamza, where did you get this from?" Israh asked, eyeing the beautiful pink roses. The weather was horrendous so how come these flowers had bloomed so?
"From the garden. For you. They have tons and tons of flowers. There are daisies too!"
"Wow, really?"
"I'm so sorry aunty, I kept telling him not to pluck them out but he wouldn't listen." Bhabhi came in with Mariam propped up on her hip and a sorry expression on her face.
Aunty Ruqayya waved her off. "No need to apologise. They're just kids."
"But Hamza, ab to tumhaari khaala ko phool dene waala koi aur aagya hai. Ab tumhaare phulon ki kiyaa value." (But Hamza, now there's someone else to give your aunt flowers. Your flowers don't hold much value now.) Jamal bhai spoke teasingly.
It was her luck that she didn't blush, because if she did, Israh's face would have turned as red as a tomato. Everyone laughed at that stupid little comment. Even Asad.
She scoffed incredulously, as Hamza looked down at the tulips on her lap, then at Asad warily who grinned at him but was completely ignored.
"Nobody can beat my Hamza's flower game. He's the best. Aren't you?" Israh responded, trying to get rid of her awkwardness. She wasn't used to being the centre of attention, of having people's eyes on her. Not in this way at least.
"Yes. And I-I remembered your favourite colour. It's pink, see?" Hamza almost stuck the roses onto his nose, but she pulled back in time, taking them away from him.
"I know, jaanu. Thank you."
"Hamza ko apni khaala boht pyaari hai. You gotta up your game, Asad. He's going to be your competition." (Hamza loves his aunt)
"Bhai..." Israh near-whined. What on earth had possessed her older brother to act like Noor and Tamannah with all these embarassing comments.
Asad laughed, then turned to Israh with that piercing gaze and that amused smirk. "Hmm. I have a few moves up my sleeve."
Was this bile rising up her throat, or a giggle trying to escape her mouth? Whatever it was...nope. This was not happening.