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𝓕𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾

The hot sip of ginger tea when cold is getting the fire inside you hits different.

"The red suit is pretty, Mom."

Mom was pampering me for the evening. It was another feast that we were attending but I kind of find my family odd for being so prepared. The least I expected was Dad calling us to settle in the car quickly and the next thing she said blew me off my mountain as I glared at her shocked,

"You should wear a saree tonight."

"Mom?" I called out but she was deeply ruffling the sarees kept in front of her. My closet had a lot of them but the first and last time I wore one was on the Saree day of my college. What's with Mom?

"I'll go in the red suit, Mom but please don't give me a saree."

"Why? Saree looks surreal on you," she was standing near the saree section of my closet which scared me. Too much to my fear; I did not want to drape a saree at least not when I am going to a feast after ages. "It's high time you should start wearing them."

"But why Mom? I don't want to look odd when Kashaf will wear Asim Jofa's latest Eid collection. She and I decided that we will wear Asim Jofa."

"I talked with Hafsa. She was also talking about making Kashaf wear a Saree," She said taking out a maroon one that was the cloth of georgette, perhaps as far as my recognition. This was a Koskii brand. "Let's go with red as you want to but it will be saree only, Laiba."

"Mom..." I groaned keeping the mug of tea away. Rolling my eyes in utter irritation, I scoffed looking at the piece of cloth that lay ethereal in front of my eyes. "Doesn't it looks auspicious and splendid to you?"

"No!"

"Laiba!"

"Mom..." I whined I didn't want to spoil my mood yet here I was being forced to spoil it. I sneezed again for the third time and sipped the ardent tea. "You will wear this saree; end of the conversation." I touched the fabric. The thick red looked appealing yet I knew this will make me feel uncomfortable.

The evening flew like seconds. I declined to get ready by the stylists. Wearing the saree my own, the blouse was a boat neck one and the sleeves fully covered my arms. Completing my look with a matte nude lipstick, I drew a sharp basic line of the eyeliner. I gazed back and forth at my reflection. I looked fine, a little more than fine but I was satisfied.

Wrapping the hijab around my head, went well with the saree. I went towards my Mom who sat in the hall talking with Hafsa aunty, Kashaf's mother. I guess they were closer than us.

"You look gorgeous in a saree unlike me," Kashaf's greeting was quite unexpected. "Assalamu alaikum to you to Kashaf!"

"Walaikum assalam!" She replied. "It's you who looks stunning, Kashaf. Not me, I mean just look at this material wrapped up."

"Sarees are beautiful on you." She sipped the cool beverage of cola and laid a little backwards.

"Says the one who will have my brother's eyes all over this eve," I teased. Fawad Bhai liked Kashaf, we all knew it. Bhai was just waiting for the right time and I feel like it's not too far.

"Shut up, L!"

I laughed, chugging the cool drink down my throat to calm my wrecked nerves. "How are you, Yasir, Azaan?" I asked Kashaf's sixteen-years old and fourteen years old brothers. "How can they be? They are perfectly fine," Kashaf interrupted.

Azaan laughed, "Appi's mood is off because of this saree."

"Come on, Kashaf. Stop spoiling our eve because of this." She barely nodded. A little later, my brothers walked back to back ready like models that jumped down the ramp walk. Faayaq Bhai, Fahad Bhai and Fawad Bhai looked as stunning as they can be but before we could interact. Fawad Bhai's eyes were fixed at Kashaf who looked here and there but him.

He didn't say anything but smirked at her. Faayaq Bhai began, "Smirk speaks more than eyes or words could, Fawad Bhai."

We chuckled as the both of them stood a little shy and awkward before each other. We departed towards our destination soon after.

The Ali Mansion named 'Intezaar' was spectacular. The arena was huge as our cars pulled up the driveway. A lot of folks were entering through in their posh cars. I realised how huge this party was but I still haven't had any idea of whose party this was. I slide out of my seat and got down followed by Kashaf.

•

The room was intensely filled with the musk of his cologne. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the feast that was happening. He gazed out his window, the evening was beautiful but his heart was stuck on one person. She seemed so perfect at that imperfect moment.

Izhaan walked out of his room. The mansion was gigantic with the ground, first and second floors. The feast was out in the huge garden.

"The guests are waiting, Izhaan. You took longer than expected," As he was walking through the hall, Sahar's voice from the dining room stopped him in his tracks. He turned towards her, she was feeding the ice cream to his son, Shahzaib. "I am going, bunny. It's just that an unexpected client meeting had turned up. No one could go as the client wanted me to be there," he responded.

"Rayed and Shahveer are waiting for you outside."

He strode out of the bungalow, towards his father, Hashir as he stood welcoming the guests. "Your guests are awaiting your presence."

"What do you mean by your guests, Baba?" Hashir chuckled, grasping the hold of arms himself. "Aren't they yours? You have built this empire. They are yours."

"Stop it, Baba." He laughed it off, nodding at another guest as they entered. "Congratulations Izhaan! Congratulations Mr. Hashir."

Areeb Ghafur, one of the finest founders of a textile company, Black Yacht entered. Passing a bouquet of roses, he stretched his lips to a breathtaking smile. Izhaan rolled his eyes watching him. He wished that he hadn't invited him because the attitude he carried with him was ruthless. He was heartless.

"Thank you for coming, Areeb!"

Lie. A perfect one.

"How would I not come, Izhaan? It's my brother's success after all. Congratulations on winning the best architect in the people's choice campaign."

He nods, covering his disgust with his immaculate smile. People could fall for him, for his aura, for his smile, for the way he could manipulate the thinking of good guys existed and he was one, obviously.

"Enjoy the feast, beta," Hashir said. Sahar and Meesha came and stood near Izhaan.

"Izhaan, I guess someone on the back porch named Prathik was asking about you," Sahar informed. Izhaan's eyes travelled to her. He nodded, smiling. Before he could turn around to walk towards the back porch, he heard, "Congratulations buddy!" He turned around to look at the person.

Fawad Patel and his entire family.

"Thank you, Fawad." He hugged him. There was no one who hugged as warmly as Fawad to Izhaan that evening. Fawad and Izhaan were friends from the time when Fawad was Izhaan's client for designing one of their business corporations.

From those days, his family had been closest to Ali's family including Shah's family which was Kashaf's. Business wise they had grown well, any construction contracts would straight deliver at the doorstep of Elite Landscape Constructions which was obviously of Izhaan's.

Fawaz hugged Hashir and called him in. The ladies beside Izhaan, Sahar and Meesha greeted them one by one as they welcomed the family. It was after a long time that Laiba and Kashaf had been to a party.

"Thanks for coming!" Izhaan nodded.

"Hey, aren't you the one who bumped by Izhaan at the All Hales to the meal restaurant?" Meesha queried Laiba.

For a frantic second, that was when Izhaan noticed Laiba. Her presence, her immaculate presence. She gazed frightened towards another one, was Kashaf. Izhaan could feel the tension between them.

He was lost at her beauty. She looked beautiful in the maroon Koskii saree.

But he was aware that she was frightened. Scared of Meesha's question. He looked back and forth at Meesha, Laiba and Fawad. Fawad closed his eyes in dismay thinking of a better reason to make up.

Fawaz, Laiba's father, knitted his eyes. Laiba's presence at a restaurant he wasn't aware of?

"No, Meesha. She wasn't the one. Her name was Laiqa, not Laiba. Though she looked similar like their names but she wasn't the one." Izhaan handled. He could hear Laiba sigh slowly. A pang of relief passed her. He understood that she wasn't supposed to be in the restaurant. He knew Fawaz Patel and his strict nature with the ladies of his family.

"But how do you know Laiba?" He heard Fawaz's question. He grins as confidentially as the fire that would burn the thing it came up with, "Who doesn't knows Laiba Patel?"

He didn't know about Laiba. He never knew about her existence except for the fact that he knew Fawad had a sister.

The night rolled deep into laughter, cheers and loud gossip about someone's dressing sense.

Laiba stood at a corner preoccupied with Meesha, Sahar and Kashaf as they further talked about how bad the humidity was overtaking these days in the city.

"You guys look great in saree. Do you peeps wear it often?" Meesha asked.

"No. Not really. It's been years that we wore one," Kashaf answered.

"How about your degrees? Have you finished them?" This time, it was Sahar. Laiba smiled, "Yupp. It was our last exam today."

Kashaf had slipped towards a group of friends, mostly her rich childhood friends whereas Sahar had to attend to her kid, who cried for another round of ice cream whereas Rayed called Meesha to introduce her to some business friends.

Laiba stood adoring the bungalow behind. The nameplate was still embedded in her mind.

Intezaar.

Which meant, awaiting. Below the plate, it was written Ali Mansion beautifully.

"You can go inside to have a better view of the place," she heard. Her eyes snapped towards the source. It was Izhaan. The entire hour, his eyes stayed darted towards her now and then. It was darted towards her smile, the way she talked, the way she bumped into him this afternoon, the way she nods her head.

Startled at his sudden statement, she stood inhaling the air. Off course, she was scared of men, scared of the trauma that followed her for over two years for yet another specific thing she dealt with.

"I would like to but I am scared," she stated without a shake of thought. Regretting it the very second, she'd said that, at most to the owner of the house. He couldn't help to state anything but left a giggle as she glanced at him.

"I don't think I said something funny or did I?"

"You didn't." He straightened himself and ran his fingers across his hair. "Should I tour with the house?"

She knew, her father won't appreciate her being alone with a man. Before her father, she won't appreciate it herself. She was old enough to understand the ethics and the rare things that were needed to look after tenderly. She denied, "Nope, it's fine, not interested now."

Izhaan stretched a smile, looking at her in the eyes. The beautiful almond-shaped eyes with brown orbs, it was such a beautiful thing to stare at. He could talk about her eyes all day long.

He wanted to stretch the conversation. It didn't matter to him where it ended. All that mattered to him was she was talking to him, despite the unknown fear that was held high in her eyes, her replies were sinister, humorous to him and sarcastic.

"By the way, why didn't you want your father to know about your presence in the restaurant?" She stared at him, shocked. Did he know? She pondered.

"Yes, I knew. I remember you. I also remember your friend screaming your name and that you are Laiba, not Laiqa. And don't ask me about that Did I asked that loud? No, you didn't. It's your expression."

She sighed, hastily beginning to ask him, "Why did you acted that way as if you didn't remember?"

"Didn't I asked you a question first?"

This time, she laughed and it pleased him to hear. Unaware of the feeling why it pleased him.

"Dad doesn't appreciate my presence elsewhere at family events. Restaurant tours are rare I have ever been." She answered, looking back at the gigantic

ivory building in front of them.

"Mr. Patel throws that energy though."

"He doesn't throw it. He owns it like it was a huge treasure inherited from him. Though he does it, I enjoy the security. Being an introvert, I do not like gatherings. I'd rather sit at home, read a crime thriller and have a cup of strong tea." He liked the way she talked and she liked the way he heard her. No one ever tried to hear her the way he was hearing her. She looked back at him saying,

"And now, I don't even like talking to you because I have a belief that people fake things, everything to be precise."

Izhaan appreciated Laiba for being honest, for trying to fight that fear. He could read her like an open book. Her eyes depicted most of the emotions she gathered in her heart. "You are not wrong though. Loneliness is a gift if taken in the right way."

"I am glad you understood."

"Izhaan, come over here!" He heard his assistant call over, who grew close to him like a friend. "I'll be back and I'll ask Sahar, my cousin, to tour the house."

He said walking backwards as she saw him leave her. She turned as he said. Confused at how he wanted her to tour the house, though she declined and she understood how he knew why she declined. He was a man with a golden heart and a mind, which Sahar called Newton's. He was too wise and too smart to be pranked at.

With a confused face, he understood her question through her face and again said, "It's alright. I understand, I am not dumb."

This time, she smiled for the first time. A man made her smile for the silliest prediction and she felt her heart shift a little, beating a little fast watching him leave. Despite the fear, he made her smile that's all that mattered.

This time, she whispered, "Izhaan."

And it did feel good. He did feel good.

•

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