Chapter 42

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Shaiq's POV

I am reckoning the precise words to spat back at Zainab when a commotic rattle whacks against my ears. All the customers in the ice cream parlor turn their hawk eyes towards the main entrance. I raise my head a little above as Zainab's figure is thwarting my view. An incoming breath stuck in my throat beholding the person on the far corner endeavoring to barge into the parlor but the security is not permitting him to do so. A cold wave hit me like a brisk thump discerning his red, twitching, and swollen eyes. His steps are faltering and his gait is bizarre and wavy. Is he drunk? I never have an idea that he uses to drink despite knowing him well. On top of all, what the hell is he doing in an ice cream shop in this state?

Zainab looks up at me with a hint of uncertainness in her eyes.

"Look behind you, Zainab, " I whisper.

This Shakir is a drunkard and I don't know why my mind is unable to believe this. Zainab's reaction is no different from me other than just one thing - she touches her both ears and mumbles tobah tobah.

"Before he gets to know about us, let's go away from here," she declares.

I nod my head as what she is saying is not wrong. It's better if he doesn't acknowledge our presence otherwise we will have to take care of his drunkard ass. Zainab hangs her handbag along her shoulder as he gets up.

"We will go out of this door." She points at the back door.

Thank God, there is a separate door for exit. I take out money from my pocket, place it on the table, and stand up. People are still attentive at Shakir's show and this is the perfect time for escaping.

"I can't believe that old hag would be an alcoholic, " Zainab comments as soon as we are out of the parlor.

The sun is streaking with its full might. On top of that, our car is parked on the other side of the parlor. This means we have to walk all the way to the entrance.

"My question is, what was he doing in a freaking ice cream shop?" I rub my nape in frustration.

"Probably to-"

"Hey, wifey!"

Zainab gets interrupted by a deep, hazy, and wiggling voice from behind us. We both face behind to see Shakir standing there- more appropriately struggling to get on his feet. He has a smirk on his face as his eyes are fixed on Zainab.

Is this stupid calling Zainab wifey?

"What my beautu wifey is do- doing here?" He starts to strolls towards us with the same smirk on his face.

"Hey! Stop calling her by this filthy mouth of yours," I shout.

He stops for a moment and for the first time, his eyes detract from Zainab and lands on me.

"You shut up! It's my and my Zaini's matter. Right wifey?" He smacks my chest and pushes me behind.

Zaini? Seriously?

"You asshole!"

"Wait Shaiq."

I am about to hit him back when Zainab grabs my arm which spurs me to look at her in confusion. She smiles at me and winks before walking towards Shakir. What is steaming in this girl's mind? Shakir's lips spread away with a treachery smile. Zainab stands in front of him and crosses her arms across her chest.

"So what were you saying a while ago, Mister Hubby?"

This makes my eyes wide in surprise. Is she planning to prank him?

"Let's get married quickly. I can't wait now," Shakir replies in a flirtatious tone.

"I see. But you know what Hubby? I don't like drunkard people."

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