Enwrapped

Chapter 11

As the setting sun cast a warm glow through the windows of the bustling restaurant, Saboor moved behind the counter, her attention focused on the array of orders flashing on the computer screen. She had just gotten done with a group of clients planning a dinner party. The aroma of freshly prepared dishes filled the air, mingling with the sounds of clinking cutlery and animated conversations. The night had just begun.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, a familiar voice broke through Saboor's concentration, causing her to glance up in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

There, leaning casually against the glass counter, stood Muzammil, a soft smile playing on his lips as he gazed at her with adoration. He had worn a simple pastel shirt and trousers, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His hair was ruffled, like he had run his hair through it many times.

A rush of warmth flooded Saboor's chest at the sight of him, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected encounter. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she struggled to find her voice in response to his unexpected presence.

"May I take away my wife, ma'am?" Muzammil's words cut through the air, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke.

Saboor's breath caught in her throat at the endearingly cheeky request, her pulse quickening with a mixture of surprise and delight. She blinked in disbelief, momentarily at a loss for words as she met his gaze.

Finally regaining her composure, she cleared her throat and shifted nervously, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. "Y-you might have to wait a while, sir," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please have a seat, though."

A playful twinkle danced in Muzammil's eyes as he flashed her a teasing grin, his affection for her evident in every glance. "I won't wait for long," he remarked with a wink, his gaze filled with tender admiration. "My wife's been working a lot—she just came back from a holiday, you know..." he continued, his tone laced with playful humor. "And she needs rest."

With a fluttering heart and a smile tugging at her lips, Saboor watched as Muzammil settled into a nearby chair. Pressing down the bell twice on her counter, she walked inside towards her cabin, shutting her door loudly.

And then, she sat on the chair, covered her mouth, and let out a muffled squeal.

~

"Oh, so that's how you do it!" Saboor exclaimed, biting the urge to clap her hands like a little child. Her smile, warm like the cooktop light, lit up the entire kitchen, as she watched Israa expertly season lamb chops.

"Do you want to try?" Israa asked. Saboor nodded, leaned forward, and with a pair of tongs in her hand, began helping her mother-in-law.

The past few weeks had been particularly uneventful for Saboor, except for the constant showers of affection from her husband and in-laws. Every evening, Muzammil came to the restaurant to pick her up, and they would go back home, hand in hand. They would enjoy a cup of tea together, and then, Saboor would go downstairs in the kitchen, trying to help Israa in making dinner.

Usually, Israa politely declined whenever Saboor would come to help, but tonight, as she was trying out a new dish, she was glad for her daughter-in-law's presence. Israa had seen the childish twinkle in her eyes whenever they had a conversation, after all, Saboor was her own daughter too.

"Mama, shall I set the table?" Saboor asked, wiping her hands with a clean rag.

Israa nodded, further gestured, "Call the boys, and your Baba, too! Let's all eat together."

Saboor picked up a pile of porcelain plates and headed to the dining table, where Mazhar was already seated.

"Assalamu alaykum, Baba," she cheerfully wished, a grin coming to her face. Mazhar patted her head, like he had always done these past few weeks, and greeted back.