• 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝒹𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃ℊ •
ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵈᵃᶻᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ
ᵒᵖᵉʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵇʸ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳˢ.
A series of short stories bringing bundles of emotions and delight to your heart altogether~
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ꨄ︎ꨄ︎ꨄ︎
"Waleed!" She shouted on top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the large hall, as she continued chopping the vegetables standing by the counter in a messy bun, in her red kurta and shalwar, the dupatta tied at one side in a knot in a desi style. It was a Sunday afternoon, as the silence in their house of England was as always killing for Hoor. If it were Pakistan, at least some neighbours shouting like her, the traffic outside, the kids shouting and playing would be a good ronaq. But this place had no such source of life.
"Mama aik tou itna chillati kyun hain aap!?" The little boy made his way to the hall, kicking the football with his foot, his silky black hair which resembled his mom in colour, and his sharp features which resembled his dad, as his eyes were hazel like his dada's. His pants had dirt on them indicating he had been playing in the wet ground, ignoring his mom's warnings of not going anywhere near it.
"Mama se badtameezi, chapair khaani hai?" She lifted her head up to look at her eight year old son, who had a pout on his face as he hopped behind the football kicking it in the sofas' direction. "Iss gande ball ko bahir chor ke ao, Waleed!"
"Kia hai mama! Khelne bhi nahi deti mujhko!" He annoyingly kicked the ball directly on the sofa as Hoor gave him an angry glare.
"Bare hi koi badtameez ho gae ho. Tumhe tou mai set karti hun, ruko zara!" She stopped chopping the carrot, warning him.
The boy quickly grabbed the ball, running towards the door in tiny steps, as he placed it in the garage, and came back inside giving his mother a sheepish grin, melting her anger as she continued with her cooking.
"Mama, mujhe bhook lagi hai." He entered the kitchen in his muddy shoes making Hoor irritated again. "Waleed! Pehle fresh hoge, phir. Warna no lunch. Chalo, shabash." She covered the counter area, not letting him in. The clever little patakha, being her son only, climbed on top of the counter chair, as he extended his small hand to hold a piece of carrot she was chopping. "Ya Allah! Yeh bacha!"
"Itni baar kaha tha us Boris se dosti na karo uski tarha chawal ho gae ho!" She opened the fridge taking out the dough, muttering, as the boy munched on the carrot like a rabbit.
"Kon Boris? Mera tou koi dost nahi hai Boris." He gave an innocent look, while trying to sneak another piece but Hoor slapped his hand away.
"Acha maa ke sath hosheyari? Abhi batati hu!" She took the dish away from his reach on the other side, as he pouted, folding his arms.
"Meri tou aik hi dost hai, Ava. Wo bohat achi hai. Mujhe wo bohat pasand hai, hum kal ice cream date pe bhi gae the." He told in his childish voice, placing his elbows on the counter while cupping his face.
