A Latte of Love

【☕】10

Sufyan Hakim's POV

I remember when I first stepped foot into this town. It was small, the type of town in which everyone knew everyone. College was no different, but I was. Being told by my father to attend a college hundreds of miles away from home irked me, but it wasn't my choice. After all, I had been fed from a golden spoon my entire life.

My father never planned to send me away. It wasn't until my 18th birthday when I received the keys to my first car. It wasn't just any car, the Mercedes Maybach. When I first sat inside, it felt like a second home.

And it was, for an hour, before I crashed it.

It was a smooth ride, alright. I drove many cars in my life, but none were this smooth and quiet. So smooth that I didn't even realize I was driving at 250 km.

A sharp turn came out of nowhere and I drove straight into a forest, bumped into a billion skinny brown trees before coming to a screeching halt.

Right in front of the lawn... of a house.

Safe to say it wasn't my smartest move. And I'm pretty smart.

The vehicle was badly beaten and bruised up from the outside. And while I looked like an emotionless stoner looking for some dealbreakers, I was quivering with fear from the inside.

I didn't know what to do except run from the scene. It was a miracle that I was able to drive the Maybach back home. Not because of the scratches or roughed-up bumper and doors and lights, but because of the anxiety I was feeling at that moment. Knowing I had to face my father.

I knew that this time I really messed up. And I was gonna pay.

And pay, I did.

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"Bro, we can just talk. You don't need to help me clean," Javed insists, trying to grab the cleaner from my hands. I casually lean back and continue scrubbing on the cycle wheel resting on my thigh.

He sighs, giving up, knowing that whatever he said wouldn't matter. He knows I do whatever I want. That I play by my own rules.

"Sorry man, you're kinda slow," I joke. "I guess old age is kicking in." He rolls his eyes and sighs again.

I stop scrubbing to stare at his stiff demeanor. "What's with the sighs? You've been doing that since I arrived."

He rubs his clean hand over his face. "I'm just super nervous about the wedding. I already made a fool of myself in front of her parents. What if they reject me? I don't even have a stable job... what if I can't fulfill my wife's desires and give her what she wants?"

"Her parents are entrusting me with their daughter. Her older brother too... he could probably rough me up if he wanted. His arms are massive."

I raise an eyebrow. "More massive than yours?" Javed works out as if he's a bodybuilder. He's not that far off either.

He sends me a grin and shrugs, continuing the painful labor of cleaning the chains of the cycle. I scrub harder on the wheel as I think about what he said.

"She agreed to the marriage for a reason. I would hope she's not a materialistic person. But if she is, then just drop her," I say simply. He looks up with a disgruntled expression, implying he didn't like my advice.

"She's just a girl. Give her food and she'll be happy. I think."

He rolls his eyes again. "It's much deeper than that. You've never been married before, so you have no idea."