In My Sister's Shadow-Book II

17. Snowflour

The strong smell of flour like baking woke me up the next morning. I wasn't sure how and when I got to bed, but I woke up after a deep and satisfying sleep at 9.20am. Dressed in my pastel violet cotton kameez now creased, I reached over to the empty side wondering where Zayn slept last night. Yawning wildly, I flicked my hair onto my left shoulder and my finger grazed my pendant. A warm feeling of joy shrilled through me and I smiled looking at the small book in my palm. The chain evoked a feeling of happiness and love.

Making my way into the hallway, my leggings cropped up to my knees, I heard commotion coming from the kitchen. In the kitchen it looked as though a bomb of flour exploded on the counter, floor and on the twins and Zara. Zayn stood in front of the stove in just his knee length shorts with flour hand marks over his bare chest, arms and face. Together they all sung Baby Shark. Armaan perched on the counter singing through his hiccups probably bought on by handfuls of bananas. Zara stood on the stool and watched her daddy flip the pancake with built up anticipation.
"No daddy, not like that!" She scolded as he peeled the pancake off the pan with his spatula. It was a messy but a picturesque scene to wake up to. If I was a painter, I would etch this scene on a canvas and frame it; my family.
"Auntie!" With Nutella dipped fingers, Arman jumped off the counter and ran up to me.
"Good morning, darling." I lifted him into my arms and pinched his chocolaty nose.
"Daddy making pancakes."
"Well it looks like you've eaten all the chocolate." He printed chocolate marks on my kameez and cheek, but I didn't mind
"Hey-you're awake." Zayn called out distracted by the pancake. In the kitchen the smoky smell of pancakes grew stronger. Few burned pancakes were tossed in the bin and the measuring jug tipped into the sink.
"Come here-" Zayn grabbed my arm.
"Watch this." Standing behind me, he thrust me in front of the stove, his hands encompassed me holding the spatula in one hand and the pan in another. He'd lost his inhibitions, his firm chest pressed against my back, his hand over my hand making me hold the spatula. My head still half asleep suddenly woke up.
"I'm a master at this." He said.
I knew how to cook. I knew how to bake. For Zayn, I acted dumb just to let him lead and took advantage of our hair raising closeness. He shook the pan; his chin grazed the top of my ear and his arm brushed against mine. The tiny hairs swept my bare arms. With a toss, he flipped the pancake into the air, and it landed on the pan. Zara clapped and cheered the twins were busy dunking strawberries into the chocolate sauce.
"I bet you didn't know I can cook."
Cook? He'd burned half the ingredients, he just about managed to make one decent pancake, he'd contrived every health and safety cooking rule in the book, but hey, who cares? Zayn's hands were on my hips, his lips near my ear whispering his secret pancake recipe. The sound of eggs and flour never sounded so appealing in his gravelly voice.
"I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed." His warm breath against my ear. He brushed my hair aside to my left shoulder revealing the curve of my neck and the chain.
"You've got it on."
"Why would I take it off?" I whispered and could smell his pancake burning holding back the urge to alert him.
"Daddy! The pancake!" Shouted Zara.
"Let's show your auntie how to toss a pancake like a master."
His arms widened around me, but he didn't want to let me out of his arms. He was showing off closer still and the smell of his aftershave overtaking the pungent smell of burnt pancake mix. With gusto he flipped the pancake and it landed on the stove. Zara exploded into laughter. Zayn tried to rescue his pancake flicking it off the stove leaning over me. 
"Nice try." I teased. 
Zayn put down the pan and spatula once his pancake was in the pan, he grabbed me by the hips and turned me towards him. 
"Let's see if you can do better."

With the softness of my fingertips I brushed the specks of flour from his bristly chin and the end of his nose. The harsh lines around his eyes softened. The moment was surreal standing here with Zayn making disastrous  pancakes.
"You got chocolate-." With a lop-sided smile he wiped the chocolate smear off my cheek and licked his thumb. "Hmm, it tastes better off you."
He held my eyes for that extra second making me feel unbearably hot.
"Look- Ayman is eating all the strawberries!" Zara cried.
Zayn presented me with one of his earlier efforts of a finished pancake. He pulled off a piece and shoved it forcefully into my mouth. It tasted of smoke, soggy with lashings of Nutella sweetening my palette making it bearable. The children looked at my face glaring at my expression. They'd spent all morning planning with an innocuous mixture of flour, milk and egg, so much excitement yet so little comprehension of the recipe. In their fervour to surprise me, they'd spent little time courting the perfect recipe. I smiled, relieving their little faces with joy and cheer and delivered my biased verdict.
"Absolutely delish!"
They cheered in joy.
Zayn shoved the rest of the pancake into his mouth.
"Right! Cooking time over. It's fun time! Let's turn your auntie into Olaf." Zayn clapped his hands and grabbed the bag of flour. I backed into the kitchen.
"What are you doing Zayn?" I held my hands up and Aymaan giggled.
"Snow." Aymaan grinned with his chocolate smeared teeth. I shook my head. "Zayn, behave yourself. Salma won't be happy if she finds flour in her flat."
Zayn grabbed the threatening large bag of flour coercing me into the corner.
"Zayn behave. The kids are watching." But the little devils were giggling cheering their dad to shower me in the white powder. Zara screamed with excitement clapping her chocolate covered hands. Zayn inched towards me with a large chunk of flour in his left hand. The moment he growled, I shrieked and ducked out and ran into the lounge.
"Zayn behave!" I jumped on sofa holding my hands hoping he would stop.
"Zayn, we'll get into trouble."
Fearlessly he flour-bombed me clouding my vision. My hair, my clothes, the sofa, everything was covered in snow white. Zara and Aymaan chuckled.
"Here! Attack!" Zayn handed them fists full of flour.
"Zayn!" I yelled. "What are you doing?" I didn't know whether to laugh or yell, flour sprinkled all around me. The kids were having a wild time throwing flour at each other. I reached out for the flour packet, but he held it above his head like he did with my fish finger sandwich. I jumped up to grab the packet, but he showered me once again. I ran into the safety of the bedroom hoping he wouldn't spoil the bedsheets, the pillows but he and the children followed me. I jumped on the bed completely covered in flour. 
"Zayn not here!" I warned. "Not here!" 
Nothing was sacred to Zayn and the children. I struggled but managed to run out of the bedroom shrieking with laughter. 
"Kasme, if I get my hands on that-" I ran out and into the lounge. There was nowhere to run in the small flat. I grabbed another packet of flour from the kitchen preparing a counter-attack. 
"Right kids, if you want to go to Naani's house, you better help me." I rallied my troops preparing them for the battle.