Her bestfriend getting married meant work and fun for Haya. It meant dressing up and teasing the bride and dancing to London Thumakada. It meant gossiping with cousins and midnight snacks and movie marathons. It meant for once, not having to feel lo...
Staring at the chaos happening below him, Mustafa exhaled silently. Yet another distant relative dropped in to congratulate the family and he was glad he wasn't downstairs to listen to his relatives talk about him like he wasn't in the room. The gardeners below were working up a storm and you couldn't move without stepping on a rake or a pile of leaves or fertilizer.
The only thing Mustafa wanted was to get a cup of coffee and work on his presentation for work. But Ammi had hid his laptop and wouldn't budge, no matter how much he begged her. He wanted to go out and eat lunch in a quiet place all alone, not a messy one with the kids half the time overthrowing the table and the adults too busy in their discussions to pay any notice.
His father's three brother's and their wives had come today bringing along their kids by the dozen. Mustafa had nothing against his cousins. Three or four of them were married. And his Bade Taya-Abbu's son, Farid was his best mate since childhood. But Mustafa preferred being alone to the company of people. Even back in London, whenever his colleagues would invite him for a lunch out or a dinner party, he would make excuses of having work to do or renovating his apartment and instead would go home to his peaceful flat and Netflix.
Some, like his sister, would say it is a lonely life. But for Mustafa it never felt lonely, it was peaceful, it was quiet. There was something about the stability of his routine-going to the gym, going to the office, coming back and cooking lunch, facetiming his mother, Netflix and sleep-that gave him a sense of fulfilment. He was happy with his boring, mundane routine and no matter what his sister said, wouldn't change it.
Coming to the present, Mustafa wasn't expecting anyone to miss him and definitely not anyone to come in the storeroom, where he was hiding from his family. Well more like stumble in. He looked up just in time to see a girl rush in and lock the door behind her.
She gasped for breathe and slid down the door. Raising her hands like she was praying she started muttering, eyes closed. "Oh God, save me, please."
"Save you from who, dear child?" As soon as the words left Mustafa's mouth he clamped his mouth shut, scolding himself internally. He was never the one to joke but he couldn't control himself as he saw the girl praying to save herself from someone. Or thing.
And the girl was definitely not a child. As soon as she heard him her eyes shot open and she got up from the ground as if her butt was on fire. Mustafa looked with amusement as she fixed the hijab she was wearing and looked around before her eyes fell on him, standing in a corner towards the small window.
"Haye Rabba!" She exclaimed as she yet again started fixing her hijab, which looks pretty and fine, Mustafa thought musing in his head. "I didn't think anyone would be here."
He spread his arms wide, "Welcome to my humble abode."
The girl-who he was still trying to remember- took a step back and reached for the door handle.
"Haya, where are you? Come on, I'll buy you an Ice-cream after the rehearsal. If you dance, that is." Sheeba's faint voice came from somewhere out.
The hijabi girl turned around, her brown eyes wide and expression of a lost puppy. She is kind of cute. Mustafa kicked himself for the revelation that popped in his head. Speak you fool, else she'll think you're a creep that randomly stares at girls. This was his reasonable side which clashed with his stupid one. Why do you care what she thinks? You came here for some quiet time so DO NOT try to strike a conversation and she'll leave.
Then it dawned on Mustafa as to why the girl came rushing in the storeroom. "You're hiding from my sister, aren't you?"
The girl nodded breathlessly and her eyes widened further. "She's been on my case since I got here." She looked around the room and eyes lit up in recognition. "What are doing stuck up here when your whole family is downstairs? Hiding?"
"Um.... do you know me?" Mustafa questioned suddenly feeling stupid for not remembering this pretty girl. He wanted to tell her to step in sunlight so he could see her better but didn't need to as she herself stepped closer.
Mustafa was ashamed to admit that his eyes wondered further down, taking in her modest clothes and curves. He took in her pretty hijab adorned with little flowers, her eyes, the darkest shade of brown and golden as the sunlight reflected on them, her little nose, full lips, cheeks flushed a shell-pink as she stood with her gaze on the floor. Her clothes were as modest as her hijab though Mustafa forbade his thoughts from going any further.
"You don't remember me, do you Mustafa?"
Mustafa was surprised to see amusement with a hint of teasing adorning her face. She knew his name? He racked his brain trying to come up with an answer, the correct answer. She must be his sisters friend as he knew almost all of his cousins. But his sister didn't have many friends. Or any.
Except.....But she couldn't be the same girl, could she? As Mustafa remembered, his sisters only friend wore glasses and was nerdy, never seen without a book in her hand. She didn't cover her hair either. Neither did she talked with you. least of all teased you, his conscience reminded him.
He wasn't the one to play games, so he asked her upright. "Haya?"
The girl's lips twitched just the slightest, confirming his answer. "The one and only."
Mustafa somewhat felt victorious. He didn't knew why but he wanted to remember her correctly and felt unusually glad that he did and that she had remembered him.
"Why's Sheeba hunting you?" He asked, wanting to keep up the conversation. This surprised him as he was always the first to escape out of any conversations.
Haya shook her head desperately. "She signed me up for the wedding day dance without even asking me! I'm the worst at dancing but Sheeba is stubborn and she's not listening to me and saying I have to dance as I'm her best friend. But tell me would you like seeing someone flapping their arms around like a strangled chicken?"
Mustafa shook the urge to laugh, knowing it won't end well and would upset the girl. "You do know that you can't stay hidden up here forever. You'll have to face her sooner or later."
"Yeah, hopefully till then the rehearsal will be finished." Came her quick reply.
"You really hate dancing,huh?"
"There's a difference between hating a thing and not being good at it but your sister......" she shook her head again.
The conversation ended there, leaving them standing among a pile of boxes and jars, staring at each other then the ground.
Mustafa thought of inviting her to stay but Haya beat him to it. She reached for the door knob and turned to look at him, a half smile playing on her lips. "It was nice seeing you again, Mustafa. But I should go before someone catches us. People are usually quick to assume."
Saying this she turned and left leaving Mustafa, for the second time that week, jaw slacked. Though this time it was for a completely different reason.
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