Fading Paths

chapter 03

To the readers of the previous version of this story,
The next three chapters will have majority of it's scenes similar to the old version. Please bear with me because you guys have to read it again. And because I deleted the previous chapters, I've lost the comments and votes as well. So do comment xx.

And hopefully no spoilers for the new readers. :)

Dès vu

It was an ordinary evening. The sun has descended, not too much and it's warmth had an almost unnoticeable difference. From the bus stop, Nikaht and I set out to our homes after alighting from the bus. Nikhat was bubbling out of energy, being her everyday self while I silently heeded to her rants, being happy that classes were done for the day.

We walked through the familiar paths of our street and was now approaching Baba's bakery. As usual Yusuf sat outside of the bakery on his usual chair in the usual position while playing the usual game on his phone.

"Ya Allah! Nau, when is he not on that damned phone of his? Imagine one day something happens to it. I am sure he won't be able to recover from the shock," Nikhat's attention averted from her rant to Yusuf.

"I am telling you, sometimes I want to smash it on his head. He never listens to what Baba says and still nods to each of his instructions while looking forward to playing that game."

"If you command, I can smash that phone on his head."

"Shush now! He'll hear our fantasies."

"ASSALAMU ALAIKUM!" at Nikhat's high pitched and unexpected voice, Yusuf jumped in his chair and the phone was two seconds away from breaking into pieces. Thanks to his reflexes, the love of his life is still clutched in his left hand, unharmed while his right hand was above his rapidly beating heart. He looked at us with widened eyes that was showcasing shock and rage.

I knew exactly why Nikhat did it. She turned and sent me a wink.

"Wa alaikumasalam," Baba said as we entered the bakery.

"Bhaiyya get me a tub of ice cream," Nikhat joked to Baba, pretending that she didn't know him.

"We don't sell our items to immature kids. Shoo away," Baba carried the joke along.

We talked for a few minutes as both of us snatched some goodies from the sweet boxes. In his usual joking manner Baba asked us to pay for whatever we ate.

Nikhat stuck her tongue out at him and looked at the clock "I will be late. Let's go." She hurried us.

"Bye dukhaan-wale-bhaiyya." The joke went on as Baba pretended to throw whatever was next to him at her.

We walked a bit further and I parted the way when we came to the front of my house. I bid her goodbye and then rang the doorbell. Sanam opened the door, clad in her school uniform and we greeted each other.

The house was filled with the heavenly aroma of biryani, one of my personal favourites. I placed my shoes on the racks and rushed towards the kitchen, throwing my backpack on the couch in the living room. Zayba was painting something, sitting in the center of the living room, clearly just returned from school. She was the artist in our family and her drawings were excellent

Mama stood with her back to me as she stirred something, focused. I ambled over to her and threw my hands around her shoulders, squeezing her into a hug.

"I love you so much mama," I expressed.

"You don't have to butter me up now. I am already preparing the biryani. You will also get to eat it."