His Guiding Star

Four

Manha

My father and I didn't keep secrets from each other. Granted, he was older and hid things from me that I didn't necessarily need to know, or things that would do more bad than good, but I never hid things from him.

That old man even knew all my crushes, though I was certain he was irked by my awful taste in boys as a teenager. Still, he never complained, and listened to my rants, adding his opinion wherever needed.

However, this secret I was taking to my damn grave. No way in hell was I telling him that I'd run into Aaban Khan—more like, ran into his car and almost got run over. Or that I'd run from there so stupidly that I'd hit my head on the wall, and ended up with an ugly red mark one day before my freaking birthday. On top of that, I'd lost my gold bracelet too that Papa had gifted to me on my birthday last year while I'd been trying to escape the world famous cricketer.

Luck really wasn't on my side.

Before I could fall in deep thought over why exactly the cricketer was in our neighborhood, the timer on my phone went off. Wearing my oven mitts, I took the lasagna tray out just as my father came into the kitchen like he'd been summoned by the timer-or the smell of the lasagna wafting in the air.

He licked his lips exaggeratedly, making me laugh. "It looks delicious."

"And you'll only get it later so don't look at it like that." He was eyeing the lasagna like it was his long-lost lover from the 90s that he'd been reunited with decades later.

"Okay, okay. I won't look at it." He said though his eyes went nowhere. "You should get ready, and I'll pick your cake up from the bakery."

"Mhm, go then," I extended a hand in the direction of the door, hiding an amused smile behind my teeth. My father's eyes narrowed on me and he huffed, but quietly exited the kitchen too. I scurried out behind him and pressed a kiss to his cheeks, then he headed to the front door while I made my way up the stairs and to my room.

All Papa knew was that I was running from a dog—partial truth because I had been running from a dog when I bumped into Aaban-and in the chase, I'd hit my head on the wall. Now, my poor concealer was working overtime to cover that red mark as I did my makeup and styled my hair into natural waves, my pink maxi flowing out around me.

While I wore my first earring, the bell rang and I rushed out, earrings in hand, and opened the door with a bright smile. Shehmina Aunty stood in the doorway with her teenage daughter, Hania, grinning at me.

"Happy birthday!" Hania gushed and engulfed me in a tight hug that made me feel like a caterpillar, in comparison to her almost 5'9 feet height.

"Thank you!"

Shehmina Aunty took me in for a light embrace too. "Happy birthday, Manha." She kissed the top of my head like a mother would and I closed my eyes, cherishing the feeling. "Masha Allah, kitne saal ki hogayi ho ab?"

*"Masha Allah, how old have you become now?"

"Twenty-three," I replied while we walked in and I struggled with the stubborn stopper of my earring.

Like every year, my father and I had put up balloons on the walls, and a golden HBD banner hung on one of them. Because Papa hadn't returned yet, I led my neighbors to the sofas and sat them down.