Bitter Sweet | ✓ (rewriting)

11 • faasley | فاصلے

•| distance |•

•••
ajeeb zulm karti hai aapki yaadein
sochun toh bikhar jaaon,
na sochun toh kidhar jaaon?
•••

"Can I come in?"

"Yes.." Fidah's soft voice resonated from the other side of the door, causing Zarrar to step inside the room, closing the door behind him.

"It's your house, you don't have to ask permission to enter." She said smiling softly as she stood up from the bed, she was dressed in a white tshirt with red strawberry pajamas, her hair knotted at the top of her head and  her usual shawl missing. Zarrar's eyes could only do so much to not blatantly stare at the effortless beauty before him.

"I will keep that in mind next time." He replied back lowering his gaze, his cheeks displaying the adorable dimples again. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No no.. of course not. I was just writing down a new recipe. Please sit." She said blushing red, closing the little notebook and dusting off the imaginary debris off her sheets.

"A recipe on what if I may ask?" He took a seat on the opposite end of the bed, tapping the space beside him.

"Well, I was thinking of baking these french macarons with a raspberry and rose butter cream but the measurements are for an industrial batch, I don't want to bake fifty macarons." She explained sincerely, facing him.

"You can bake fifty macarons if you want to. Don't worry about the ingredients, I will have Basim bring them for you." Zarrar replied just as reverently, thinking she wanted to narrow down the recipe because she didn't have the necessities.

Fidah's eyes widened as she waved her hands frantically dismissing him.
"I am not looking to feed half of the city expensive french delicacies nor do I think I am capable of baking so much without having mental breakdowns over my imperfect macarons."

"I rather you don't bake macarons at all then." He frowned at hearing her saying mental breakdowns. He didn't want that for her, not when he was going away on a business trip.

"Then what would you like me to bake? Tell me your favourite!"

"Anything you find easy to bake. I don't want you to stress."

"I don't get stressed while baking, it's actually the opposite." She whispered lowly, shaking her head, but waved it off, looking at him expectantly. "You wanted to tell me something?"

"Ahh yes. Can I have your phone, please?" Fidah without second thoughts handed her week old iPhone. It was the latest model, curtesy of the man before her.

He typed in something, within a minute and handed it back to her.
"I am leaving on an urgent business trip for max a week. I have saved my number, so we can keep in contact while I am away."

Fidah's heart unexpectedly dropped at his words, she didn't want him to leave. There was a looming fear that came with the thought of his absence that she wasn't ready to face.

"I would've taken you along with me, but it's this deal overseas and you don't have your passport with you. I have applied for a new one so hopefully the next time I won't have to leave you alone." He added as if reading her thoughts.