"Coffee is the best thing to have ever happened to humanity," Mashal sighed dreamily as she sipped her second cup that morning. The first one was right after her fajr prayer. It rained today as well. Making her feel all energetic and enthusiastic, unlike yesterday.
Yesterday was chaotic. Enough said.
With her stupid two minutes interview to her sister's persistence of visiting The Berries to that close to death accident. She prayed extra two rakats today, thanking her almighty for keeping her safe in all that chaos and for sending that particular someone to save her life.
It was a bright and optimistic day this morning. A soft smile played on her lips as she gazed into the sky, observing the pitter-patter of the water droplets through her bedroom windows. It was a different kind of soothing to hear the continuous raining sound, she felt warm and fuzzy but her eyes froze as her almost six feet neighbour made an entrance to his balcony, with his fluffy-greyish cat in his arms.
It was such a mouthwatering sight actually. To see a man like him hold a cat so tenderly like that. No one would have guessed that he'd have such a soft side to him when they first meet him. But she may or may not have observed how close he was with that cat. Mashal regrets nothing more than that. She questioned her choice of creepily watching him for a whole damn week. But gosh, that sight! It did something to her stomach. It was one of the many reasons why she found him so damn attractive.
The sadness in his eyes from the other night was still there. She held the grills of her windows whilst sipping her cold coffee and enjoyed nature, trying to distract herself from the rude neighbour. He may have saved her life. He may have even apologized for calling her boring.
But he was still the same person who has slammed the door on her face for no particular reason. She still doesn't like him all that much. Albeit she finds him undeniably attractive and handsome but he was still a jerk.
Yes, she's petty. And yes, she's a grudge holder.
"Aapi, look what I found." Meher's loud shriek made her jump slightly making the coffee spill on her nightdress, she hissed at that and passed her sister an annoyed look. While her sister walked inside her bedroom without caring much.
"What do you want? It's too early for your drama." Meher ignored her annoyance and smiled chirpily whilst shoving the tablet on her hands with a wide grin on her face.
"Look at this," she glanced at the screen and raised her brows, "I have already watched this series. What's the big deal?"
"Our neighbour, doesn't he looks like this main lead guy? I mean almost kinda?" Meher laughed at her great discovery. She felt so proud of it too. What a drama queen!
"But, wait. Actually. Our neighbour does look like a Can Yaman look-alike. This is..." Mashal was out of words. That tall figure and bulky body. Everything screamed Can Yaman. The only difference was that Can has long hair while her neighbour doesn't. It makes him kinda hotter. Ugh! Why the hell was she fangirling him again?
"Can Yaman's lite version," Meher laughed at her own joke. Mashal can no longer find this funny or amusing.
She felt her heart skip a beat thinking about him. A frown appeared on her face at that realization. How could that even be possible? Why was she feeling all this towards him? They haven't even talked that much and when they did, it was mostly not a good experience but why the heck was she still finding him so attractive and handsome?
It was hard to deny the crush anymore and it began to terrify her. She didn't know how to feel about this. Wasn't she supposed to be a good Muslim and marry the guy of her parents choice?
But who said Muslims shouldn't like someone anyway? It all depends on how you act upon your feelings and Mashal was starting to panic at that thought. She didn't exactly know how to act upon it in the first place. Should she tell this to someone? What if they judged her? What if they called her names?
He is rude and that should be off-putting already but it wasn't. Which made it all the more frustrating. Sure, she's petty and stupid to hold a grudge oh him for behaving the way he did, but it was foolish of her to deny the crush just because of that. Because her crush on him felt stronger than her petty feelings. Why can't she just forget that rude neighbour?
"Aapi, are you listening to me?" Meher shook her shoulders, in return, she gave a distracted nod and continued drinking her coffee, with all these confusing thoughts swirling in her mind.
"Did the company call you back?" her sister's question snapped her back to bitter reality. Mashal shook her head in negative, "that interviewer was actually our neighbour."
Meher stared at her wide-eyed, "no way! You're kidding me."
"Yes, way. It was him." She rolled her eyes at that dramatic reaction, "and I'm turning down the job offer if I was given any at all. Which reminds me, I should talk about something important with papa. Is he still home? Or has he left already?"
"He's having breakfast but will be leaving soon. But how can that be possible, aapi? He's your boss?" Meher was still in disbelief.
"He is not, I'm not going to work for him, M. Don't mess up my room, I'll be back" Mashal narrowed her eyes before walking downstairs, her eyes were filled with accusation and complaints.
"Papa, are you there?" Yelling loudly she made an appearance in the living room and noticed how her parents jumped apart at the dramatic entry. Her anger vanished in thin air as she tried to erase the sight of her father kissing her mother passionately in the middle of the living room.
Twenty-five plus years and the fire in their marriage still makes so many other couples envious.
"Jeez, you guys!" Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. As much as romantic it sounded, but for a grown-up daughter to walk in on something like that was traumatizing. She has gone through this far too many times and still couldn't stop feeling shy.
"You should get used to it by now," Arsalaan tried to cover up with a smug smile as he slid his arms around his wife's, pulling her close to him, but Mashal was not sure it was his teasing or did he actually mean it. Her father gets too much at times.
"Arsalaan," Malaika told him off sternly and wriggled out of his hold, "leave me." Her cheeks were so bright.
But her father was stubborn as ever, holding his wife close to him as if nothing really happened. While she could see the embarrassment creeping up on her mother's face.
Gosh! Why are they so freaking adorable?
Her heart couldn't take all this cuteness at once.
It just subconsciously makes her want to have a similar kind of love one day every single time. Her parents are so adorable! Masha Allah.
"Papa, are you free? I want to talk something."
Malaika shoved him away and walked into the kitchen, not meeting any of their eyes. Arsalaan laughed with a shake of his head, "your mother is a drama queen. She was the one who initiated it,"
"Papa that's enough, thank god poor Meher didn't get to witness this." Mashal sighed and Arsalaan's laugh only increased at that, "leave about that, what did you want to talk about?"
"Are you free?" Composing herself, Mashal asked knowing very well that it was time for him to go to the office. He usually leaves around at eight-thirty in the morning. It was eight twenty-five currently.
"I always have time for my family, jaani. Come on. Ask away. Whatever you wanted to ask." Arsalaan had a rough idea of what this conversation was going to be and a nervous chuckle left his mouth.
"You know what I'm going to talk about, don't you?" She questioned him with a sad and disappointed smile.
"Why did you do it, papa?"
Arsalaan fell out of words, he didn't know why he felt the need to do something unauthentic like that. It was not him. But the thought of seeing his daughter getting rejected on her very first interview made him paranoid and he used his influence to get her the job. He shouldn't have done that but the father in him couldn't stop himself from doing that
"Didn't you have a little faith in me, papa?" She asked in a whisper, "you could have trusted me a little bit,"
"Mashal, jaani. It's not that I don't have faith in you. I know, I shouldn't have done that," Arsalaan came forward to place his hand on her forearm, she pulled away with a pout.
"If I wasn't selected at all, I would have definitely felt hurt, papa. But at least I'd know that I've tried my best and that it wasn't meant for me. I know facing rejection is a new thing for me. But not everything is going to be in my favour. I need to get used to that big time." Mashal chuckled sadly. It felt like the first step of her growing up. Of facing this real world. She has been sheltered enough already.
"I'm sorry, Mashal, I didn't mean to say you wouldn't be selected at all. I was just scared. You were so used to winning everything. I wasn't sure how losing would make you feel." Arsalaan admitted his worries as he caressed her hair gently, "it's high time you let me grow out of this bubble, papa. At least then it wouldn't hurt as much. I should know what it feels like to lose, let me lose if I have to," She replied whilst side hugging him and noticed his sigh of relief after that small hug.
He did that because he loved her. She couldn't get herself to be mad at him any longer. She just felt blessed. So very blessed.
"And also, I'm not taking that job. Not because you used your influence but because I genuinely don't want to. But please don't let this repeat again, papa. I want to fight my own battles. Face all the bitterness of this world like every other person." She smiled brightly.
"I'm so proud of you, jaani. I'm so proud of you." Arsalaan admitted genuinely and she smiled more. It was all she ever needed, for her parents to feel proud of her.
"I'm a strong girl, papa. I should be knowing not everyone are going to like me and that I should just deal with it." She suddenly felt emotional and tears brimmed in her eyes which she quickly fought away.
"Who said that? We all love you, jaani" Arsalaan reassured her gently and she nodded, feeling happy, "I know and I'm so blessed for that, thank you, papa. I think it's getting late for you," she said whilst staring at the huge wall clock placed in the living room. It was similar to that of Mrs Weasley's clock from the Harry Potter movie. They got it especially designed because both Mashal and Meher are crazy Harry Potter fanatics.
Their house had so many Harry Potter goodies. It was exhausting for Malaika. She couldn't understand all that hype for a fictional fantasy character. But Arsalaan always encouraged that madness.
Meher even went as far as naming her Persian house cat with the name Harry. The obsession was of another level.
"Yeah, actually. There was an important meeting I'm supposed to attend at nine. I'll get going, Allah Hafiz." He kissed her forehead hurriedly and walked into the kitchen to bid bye to his lovely wife as well.
Mashal chuckled softly before walking upstairs. Her eyes were fixed straight on the staircase and not on the kitchen just right beside it. Otherwise, she'd start picturing their kiss again. God, it was so annoying. But she loved them with all her heart.
She was glad to be distracted somehow though. The thought of her newfound crush was seriously very terrifying. How she's going to act upon it is going to matter a lot. But for now, she chose to ignore it. Crush it like it didn't matter. For how long she can hold onto that, only time will tell.
***
"Ginny, I swear you are so picky. Why can't you be like just another normal cat?" Murat chided his cat, who meowed at him and continued to eat her food, which was imported from Australia. It was the only type of food that she eats and he stocks them in his house on a yearly basis.
"Stay here, don't eat the carpet again. I'll be back," he told to her like she was an actual person and walked towards his living room where his phone was ringing loudly.
"You traitor," the accusing voice of his friend, Chris welcomed him as soon as he answered the call. A chuckle escaped his lips, "I feel like shit. Why didn't you give me a ride like you promised to?" He asked him and Murat fell silent for a second.
The happenings of yesterday passed in front of his eyes. Of how Eliza came to his usual hangout spot just to rub it on his face about how easy it was for her to move on. Of how he messed up with his neighbour. It was just too much for him.
"I safely made you reach home, you should be grateful, bro." Murat sighed, feeling hopeless. He didn't want to recollect all that in the early morning hours but now that he did, a weird sort of bitterness corrupted his mind. He felt angry and hurt.
"Yes. How nice of you. Thanks." Sarcasm dripped off his voice and unable to take it anymore, Murat hung upon him and kicked the sofa in frustration but winced in pain instead.
He was about to throw his phone back on the sofa, but a notification caught his eyes and he opened them quickly. A groan left his mouth, feeling overwhelmed. When will this drama come to an end anyway? He sighed, feeling miserable.
Supermodel, Eliza Hossain dancing with her new beau. Her ex-boyfriend is furious. Click here to see the pics.
Those were the headlines. He didn't care much about her, he told himself that he didn't. But it pissed him off to see his name being dragged into the mess again and again.
He used to love this fame once upon a time. Being with her, the famous super model girlfriend made him that way. But now he regrets nothing more than that.
It's been three months since their break up and he wished people got over them already. If only it was that easy.
Leave about people... Why couldn't he get over it already? Why was Eliza affecting him even after three damn months? He pretended it didn't matter and that he was okay. But it wasn't okay. He wished he could openly share that with someone. Someone who wouldn't judge him for not feeling okay.
All he could feel at that moment was sadness and heartache. He felt alone and helpless. He shouldn't have defied his parents and dated Eliza five years ago. They were always against that very idea. And now he's facing its dirty consequences. Feeling lonely and miserable. Without his parents on his side. He missed them. So damn much! Every single day.
His hands shivered slightly as he dialled that one number he always did whenever something goes wrong, "Murat?" His mother's joy-filled voice did nothing but break him more.
"Ammi," his voice came out muffled and a drop of tear rolled down his cheek. Before he realised, he was crying hysterically. Unable to hold onto it any longer.
"Mera baccha, what's wrong?" Hania asked, "should I come over, Murat? Is everything okay, dear?" She added in her worry-filled voice.
He could feel the tears forming in her eyes and that made him feel all the more miserable. He only gave them tears and pain. He was the worst son ever. Guilt began to eat him alive.
"Ammi, I feel broken. So broken, ammi." Murat cried in pain.
"Saad, your son is scaring me." He heard her whisper to his father.
"I'm ready to do something which you always asked me to, ammi." After composing his tears, he spoke those lines crystal and clear. It's high time, he started working on making up to his parents and making them happy. He was done wasting years making them upset and mad.
"What are you talking about?" Hania asked in a totally confused voice.
"I'll marry the girl of your choice like you always wanted me to," And the image of his little neighbour flashed in front of his eyes as he said that. Which was so stupid.
What the hell was wrong with him these days?