8 Chapter 8/Unexpected visit

We know that you, [O Muhammad], are saddened by what they say. And indeed, they do not call you untruthful, but it is the verses of Allah that the wrongdoers reject.

Al-Quran

- 6:33

_._._._

Well, well, now what do we have here? Mr. Aarib standing inside my house, and be that unannounced, especially after what happened last night? I need a minute to process this in my head. Maybe more than a minute.

"What are you doing here?" I raise a brow, somewhat trying to look less shocked than the slightly fast beating of my heart.

He's taken aback. His mouth opens but nothing comes out while he maintains are eye contact. I know I should look away, but my rational thoughts literally shoo away when he is around me.

"Well?" I prompt, hating how I sound less convincing at maintaining my calm.

He clears his throat. "I came here to discuss something important with—"

"Um, who the heck are you and what are you doing in my house talking to my sister?" Azaan's voice cuts through my thoughts.

My eyes snap to Azaan who doesn't hesitate a least in passing glares to Aarib. My brothers', especially Azaan can be pretty protective of me sometimes, especially when he detects danger or suspicion. In addition, I am assuming he thinks Aarib is an evident danger considering he isn't backing away from my brother's intense gaze or providing him much needed answers.

So, I muster the confidence within me and clarify, "Azaan, he is my classmate. We are paired together and have to work on a project together. . ."

Azaan looks pissed.

"He was just here for the project," I provide further uncertain information because I myself don't know why Aarib decided to show up. Why could he be here, though? My first guess is to study. . .and second to apologize. Rare in his case, but I am hopeful.

"Actually," Aarib grits without taking his eyes off my brother, "I am here to discuss something important with her."

"Okaayy," I pipe in, blocking my brother's view of sight by appearing in front of him. He takes a long moment to cut his eyes back to mine, but when he does, I almost sob from relief. "I will talk to him. It's my fault. He doesn't know it's Aadil's wedding today." It was obvious Aarib already got an idea by my lavish dressing and the decorations that there was some event going on.

"Not in the room. The lounge," he warns.

Cliché. "Fine, as you wish," I agree, battling with the urge to roll my eyes. To convince my pissed brother some more, I nod my head as well.

When Azaan disappears inside his bedroom down the corridor, slamming his door shut, I recoil from the loud bang but at the same time let out a breath.

Slowly, I turn around. Only to find Aarib already staring at me as if. . .as if he is very impatiently waiting for something. Waiting for answers.

I cross my arms. "Talk. You have exactly one minute and the clock is ticking."

He huffs out a snort. "Talk? I beg your pardon, but just who do you think you're talking to?"

I give him a are-you-serious-look? "You really want me to say that aloud? There are a lot of people in this house at the moment. Should I really scream you are MAFIA?"

His eyes widen in pure horror. He casts a worried look here and there before fixing me on the spot with his glare. "I am not a Mafia," he whisper hisses.

I put on a bored expression. "Yeah, well you descend from a line of criminals, so I don't know how that makes you any different." I start picking at my nails. I hope that's not too obvious—me acting all bored and stuff.

I hear him sigh softly. "You didn't tell me your brother is getting married."

I look up. "Did you expect an invitation?"

"Of course. After all, we will be bonded together." He stares at me with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Soon."

My confusion rises up a notch. Actually, more than just a notch. "What do you mean?"

A secret smile spreads over his lips. "Soon," he promises again.

If I was confused before, I am definitely baffled now. "Why do you keep saying that?" There's a hint of worry lacing my voice. I mean, who would like to hear these words from a Mafia? From what I have heard, Mafia men are prettyyy possessive of their wives. More like they think of them as their possession. And a bodyguard is a must to stay by their side because of their enemies.

Marriage with Aarib would be literally something else.

My eyes suddenly widen in horror and Aarib detects it.

Marrying Aarib! What am I thinking! Stop thinking about this! I COMMAND YOU, HAYA.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." I shake my head to empty the weird thoughts. "Will you please go now? I am assuming you just came here to torture me."

He rakes a hand through his mess of hair—bedroom hair. Does he not have the decency to brush his hair when he wakes up? Let me guess, that's not like him at all. He doesn't care how he looks, because girls still can't resist his charms.

"I will talk to you some other time, then. Enjoy the wedding," he murmurs, looking right into my eyes. A sparkle lights up his eyes.

"What is that look?" I ask at last.

He cocks his head to the left, raising a perfect brow in question, amusement written all across his face. "What look?" Recognition dawns on his face the next second. "You mean when I look at you with honest emotions? Finally you know how much I like you," he mocks with a grin.

Every kind of mean insult rests on my tongue, ready to be spoken aloud when all of a sudden a shrieky voice comes from behind me and I almost start sobbing.

"And now who is this lovely boy!" Mama chirps and comes to stand next to me. The way she addresses him—all sweet and motherly—really raises suspicion. I don't want Mama to like Aarib, like, ever.

A big genuine smile breaks across Aarib's lips. He casts a brief glance at me. Amusement. That's what his smile says because he gets the idea I don't like how my Mama is treating him. I huff out an aggravated sigh. Aarib smirks.

"Hello, Madam, I am Aarib. It's nice to meet you," Aarib greets her.

My mouth hangs open—like—when—when did Aarib become such a gentleman! He is not a nice man! LIAR!

"Oh, Aarib! Haya told me you both are working together for a project?" Mama questions with curiosity.

"Yes, perhaps we are." He examines me with interest. Idiot.

I put a hand on Mama's shoulder to get her attention. She shoots me a warning glare—what did I even do?!

"Aarib has work to do. He would love to leave," I inform her, then say through gritted teeth as I hold Aarib's eyes, "Won't you, dear?"

To say Aarib looks amused would be the understatement of the YEAR. A side of his lips curls upwards in a mischievous smile which really doesn't put me at ease. You would think—even I think he wants to stay away from me as much as possible, but then why does he not?

"I guess. . ."

I narrow my eyes in warning.

Mama moves forward and my hand drops from her shoulder. Um. . . Have I suddenly become the bad guy here?

"You are staying, Mister." Aarib begins to protest but my Mother darling speaks up before him.

"You are going to attend my son's wedding—actually call over your Mama too. Have you ever witnessed a Pakistani Wedding before?"

He shakes his head no.

Suddenly, Mama claps her hands in delight as excitement lights up her entire face. "Lovely! This way I will get to meet her too."

And just like that, Mama had disappeared inside the kitchen. Her muffled voice of conversing with the helpers echoes through the hallway, bouncing off the walls.

"Why would you do that?" I ask him, annoyed.

He pulls on what could be called the most innocent expression. "Do what?"

"Agree with her!" I snap. "Aarib? What's your problem? Why are you so adamant in torturing me with your presence?"

"Ouch. I will go then." Hurt flashes in those otherwise emotionless, cold eyes. "If that's what you want."

And just like that, I start feeling bad.

"Whatever. You should stay now, because my Mama will think I kicked you out."

His eyes travel above my head and something like protectiveness passes through them. Baffled, I turn around—

And there, behind me stands my first cousin, Mahmat.