Unexpected Promises

Chapter 39

Atifa's pov :

Sitting on the couch of our living room, I drank water in three sips, following the sunnah of our beloved prophet Muhammad SAW. Leaning my head back on the couch, I closed my eyes, trying to recall the memories of my dream.

The sound of the click of the door made me knit my brows. As far as I remembered, ammi was supposed to be coming back after Magrib. And Amira didn't have keys to come in without a doorbell. Who could it be?

My eyes snapped open as I jumped up at the realisation that someone just entered our house. Someone who wasn't ammi or Amira. Fear gripped my heart as I squeezed my eyes shut, scolding myself for being so irresponsible.

My back was turned to the door as I tried to find something to attack the intruder with. Not getting anything else around me, I hastily grabbed a cushion from beside me. At least I could choke him with this. Clutching the pillow tightly in my hands, I was ready to turn around and attack the intruder.

"Oh you are up alhamdulillah!" Wait. Wasn't this his voice? He was actually here? What was he even doing here? Wasn't he there in Suva?

I squeezed my eyes shut as realisation dawned on me. No way! Wait a minute... that wasn't actually my dream? Oh my God! This was so embarrassing. Ya Allah why did this always happen with me?! Why do I always have to do something like this? Why hadn't I gone to Bermuda triangle yet, again? Could anyone tell me?

Coming in front of me, he raised a brow at the cushion which I was clutching in my hands. Smiling sheepishly at him, I immediately dropped it beside me on the couch before looking away, embarrassed at my weird actions. What even happened to me?

"How... did you come in here?" With knitted eyebrows, I asked him, thousands of questions encircling my mind.

"Oh, I got your keys with me." He replied, dangling our house keys in front of me, a sheepish smile on his face.

"How? And why?" I inquired, glancing at him.

"I will tell you everything baad me aaram se, but for now, let's have our lunch." Keeping a paper bag on our coffee table, he gently grabbed my arm, guiding me to sit on the couch.

(I will tell you everything later in detail, but for now, let's have our lunch.)

"But I don't feel like eating anything." I told him, already scrunching my nose at the thought of upcoming nausea.

"And why is that so?" Sitting beside me, he grabbed the paper bag before taking out two containers from it.

"Because I will start feeling nauseous if I eat anything. So mujhe chodiye, aap apna khana kahiye." I replied with a sweet smile before getting up from the couch.

(So leave me, have your food.)

"Oh hello madam! You aren't going anywhere. You will eat with me. I don't care about whatever you feel. If you feel like throwing up, you can throw up after having lunch, I won't say anything. Ye jo tum behosh hui thi na, ye kamzori ki wajah se hui thi. To mere saamne koi bahana banane ki zarurat nahi hai. Sidhe se aake baitho aur ye soup piyo. Mama ne banaya hai." Pulling me back to sit next to him, he scolded me, making me look at him in shock, my mouth agape. How could he even...?

(You fainted because of your weakness. So no need to make any excuse in front of me. Come, sit here and have this soup. Mom made it.)

Narrowing my eyes at him, I folded my arms. How could he even scold me like that? How dare he do that! "Mujhe kuch nahi khana. And how dare you scold me like that?" I said, my voice fierce.