Professor Khan ✔️(completed)

33. d a w a t - party

Two weeks there and it was a bliss. Fitting in to his home and his life perfectly. Nothing had changed, yet everything changed. Waking up every morning in his warm embrace. Eating breakfast together and then leaving for work and school in their cars a he'd leave a chaste kiss before saying goodbye.

She'd see her friends at school and Frosty being a little shit for never leaving her alone because she got married when he wasn't even there and that was the biggest tragedy in the history of this earth. She still reported to his office on designated days. The hours more prolonged and included more cups of sugary coffee and a lot more flirting.

And his home carried her essence. Her car parked in the garage. The shoe rack filled with her colorful shoes a long with his usual black ones. The hallway wall had the photo of their Nikah enlarged. And then everyday she'd come home with another printed photo of theirs and frame it on the fall. The living room had a pink throw on the couch. Her keys in the decorative plate. Her laptop charger plugged into the wall. Little things that became used to the house.

But it was the room that held the beauty of their relationship. The dressing table  scattered with her cosmetics in organized fashion. A drawer full with metal bangles that he thought all looked the same but apparently she insisted they were different. He shrugged. Her books stacked against his books. The nee inclusion was numerous candles arounf the house that he didn't see the point of but apprentlu they were aesthetically pleasing as she had said and she loved so he just laughed.

Everytime she went shopping she brought a candle thinking she was sneaking it in and he wouldn't notice, but he knew when a new appeared, but he let her believe that she was sneaking it in because it made her happy.

She was folding the final bag of scarfs when he came in with a cup of noodles he had just cooked. Putting one on her desk and stuffing his mouth with his own. Staring intently at the rainbow of scarfs.

"You have that many hijabs?" He shook his head. "What're you even going to do with them?"

"Wear them!"

"Really? Because all I've seen you in is like the same black scarf."

"They're not the same!!!!" She was horrified at his lack of knowledge of how many different types and textures of black hijab existed.

"They look the same and I have come to a conclusion that you're a hoarder." He leaned against the closet watching her with softness in his eyes and she turned around, narrowing her eyes at him. He shrugged.

"I'm a hoarder? Have you seen the amount of books we have in this house. Every corner I turn there are books, manuscripts and what else. You probably killed more treess than anyone else. You're a tree murderer."

"Tsk tsk. You're calling your husband a murderer" He shook his head as he pulled the curtains, letting the light in. "I'm a professor who writes books on the side so it's different."

"I'm a hijabi so you never know when you need a perfect scarf. Case closed."

"Oh the manuscripts reminded me." His eyes lightening up. "What are you going to do for your final project?"

She picked up her cup of noodles and sat next to him on the floor cushion near the window to soak in the warm rays of winter's sun.

"I was thinking about making a blog where I collect people's stories. Specifically I want to ask people what was that one thing that they always wanted to do or an unrequited wish. They can stay anonymous if they choose to but I've always been invested in stories about people." She sighed  as she picked out the mushroom from her noodles and put in his bowl. She never did like the mushrooms. "What do you think?" She nervously asked.