Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
R izwan comes again in June, which isn’t at all relevant to me, seeing as I’m over him entirely. He calls me, and I consider not picking up, but then I remember what Shanzay said the morning after Haya’s wedding, and I answer immediately.
“I’d like to go on a picnic,” he eventually says, after we’ve exchanged niceties.
“Excellent idea!” I say. “I’ll invite everyone.”
“Everyone?” he repeats. “Yes – sure.”
I know my meddling days are behind me, but surely this does not count? In the two months that have passed since the wedding, Shanzay’s ankle healed, and it seems her heart has as well.
She has been in much higher spirits, and I am sure her feelings for Rizwan are to be credited for it.
Nothing like a new crush to help you get over heartbreak! Not that we have spoken of it. I am resolved not to interfere and cause trouble, and I have not.
Planning a picnic is not meddling! If I was meddling I would invite Shanzay only, then conveniently forget to go myself.
Instead, I invite Naadia and Asif. When I call Fawad to invite him as well – I must confess, I have been avoiding him, and he is the last one I call – he tells me he’s already aware. Shanzay called him. I find this strange, but do not dwell on it.
The day of, we all head to a local park, everyone bringing along one dish (except for me, I bring three). The middle of June means the weather is warm but not hot, and I was hoping for today to be one of those blissful afternoons, with shining sun and serene breezes, but we are out of luck in that department.
The sun is harsh, the humidity worse. The asphalt only increases the heat, but the park is filled with huge trees, which will provide ample shade once we settle in.
“Whose idea was this again?” Naadia asks, swatting a bee away in the parking lot. She and Asif arrived at the same time I did, in Asif’s BMW truck, which is now parked beside me.
“Hush,” I say, standing next to her and checking my reflection in her car window. Massive sunglasses cover half of my face, making me look like a celebrity. I smile. “Anyway, we have to be supportive.”
“To who?” Naadia asks. I press my lips together. Oopsies. I shouldn’t have said that.
“You might find out soon enough,” I sing-song. She shakes my arm. “Ow!”
“Tell me!” she says. “You know I can’t stand not knowing juicy secrets.”
I wiggle my brows at her. “Just pay attention.”
Asif, dear that he is, carries our picnic baskets, putting his muscular arms to good use. I nod approvingly, while Naadia wolf-whistles.
“Don’t objectify me in front of your sister,” Asif pleads. She ignores him.
“He’s been working out,” Naadia informs me.
“I love that for him and for you.”
“Right.”
Asif looks away, cheeks pink. We walk out of the parking lot to the edge of the park, standing in the shade, just as another car pulls up, and out comes Rizwan, skin bronzed and hazel eyes bright. Then, Shanzay arrives, and shortly after, Fawad.
“Here, let me take that,” Rizwan offers to Shanzay, taking her basket. Shanzay smiles warmly, and I resist the urge to nudge Naadia to see. They join us in the shade. “Shall we find a spot to sit?” Rizwan asks.
“This way,” Asif says, leading the way. “Let’s go further in.”
Rizwan follows him, and I see Naadia interrogate Shanzay as to who we might be needing to support. Shanzay, bless her, is as clueless as Naadia, even though she must know I have arranged all this for her.
Not that I am meddling! I am simply here for the outing. And perhaps something – someone – else...
“Shall we?” Fawad asks, falling into step with me. We round out the back. I nod, and we walk further into the park.
Tall trees spread up around us, shading us with their leaves. It is immediately cooler the farther in we go. Glimmers of sunshine peak between the trees, and as we walk forward, the world is a blend of gold and green, the sweet sound of birdsong background music.
I risk a glance at the man walking beside me. I have not seen much of Fawad in the past two months – or I have seen him the same amount, it just seems like I have not seen him much.
As if every time he leaves, it is too soon.
He turns to me, and my heartbeat quickens.
“I thought I said this was casual,” I say, when he catches me staring.
“This is casual,” he replies, looking at his attire. He is wearing a light brown linen suit with a white shirt and looks quite handsome in it.
“That is not?—”
“Because you are dressed so casually?” he asks, amused as he looks me up and down. My cheeks heat under his gaze. I am wearing this gorgeous floral full-sleeved maxi dress and chiffon hijab.
“That’s different,” I say.
“Why?” he asks. “Because you’re a girl.”
“No,” I say, even though he is right. Flustered, I smack him with my fan (yes, I have a fan that I brought from Spain).
“Hey!” He clutches his arm, then bends down to pick up a twig, and hits my leg. I gasp.
“Rude!” I go to smack him again, but he deftly avoids me. In the commotion, I trip on my heeled wedges, but if I’m going down, so is he.
I grab onto his arm, and we both go tumbling to the ground.
“Oof!”
“Ow!”
We lie side by side on the grass, recovering from the fall. The sun gleams in my eyes and I turn to the side, where Fawad’s chest is shaking with laughter.
“Stop laughing,” I scold, trying to be vexed and failing. “Look what you did!”
On the grass, his knuckles brush against mine, and I forget all about being cross to focus on the feel of it, the tingling sensation it sends shooting up my arm. I bite my lip.
A moment later, my palm turns up as his turns down. His hand slips into mine.
Something sharp turns in my stomach. I know I should pull away, but his hand is so lovely on mine, it robs me of my breath. I cannot move. Do not want to.
He strokes my palm with his thumb, and my breath hitches violently, returning to me.
With a jolt, I sit up, removing my hand. I feel very hot. Much too hot.
After a moment, he sits up too, brushing off his jacket. I gasp.
“Hold still!” I say, as I spot something in his dark hair. It distracts me from the too-quick rush of blood pounding in my ears.
“Goodness, what is it?” he asks, concerned.
“A bug, I think.” I get up onto my knees so I can see better, but the little caterpillar has disappeared into his thick hair.
Then, I catch a flash of green in the sea of black. “One moment.”
I go to grab it, but it wiggles out of reach. His hair is much softer than I imagined, and I would be lying if I said my fingers did not linger in the silk of his locks.
I retrieve the caterpillar, but do not remove my hand from his hair just yet. I revel in being this close to him, my heart beating deliciously fast.
He is eye-level with my heart, and I hope he cannot see just how fast it is beating. But he is looking up, for once, looking up at me, exposing the long column of his throat. His eyes are half-lidded, face solemn, as if he is praying.
“You’re at my mercy,” I tease.
“Aren’t I always?” he responds.
I bite back a smile, then pluck the little creature out of his hair and remove my hand. I sit down so we are eye level again, the grass tickling my ankles and calves under my dress. I lift my hand between us, holding the caterpillar up to show him.
“How cute,” he says, picking it off my palm. His dark eyes glitter with amusement. “I shall name her Humaira.”
“Rude!” I cry, but I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.
He laughs, too, and we both watch as the caterpillar crawls across his index finger. I hold up my hand again, bringing it close to his, until my index finger creates a bridge with him. We do not touch, and it takes all my strength to keep the tremor from my hand.
Slowly, the caterpillar passes onto my finger, and as it does, his finger brushes mine, ever so slightly. His touch is softer than the breeze against my hot cheeks, just as caressing, just as sweet.
My breathing stalls, but I do not withdraw.
Instead, I lift my eyes to his. His mouth parts?—
“ There you are!” a shrill voice calls.
Dread curdles my stomach. It can’t be. A bright teal dress enters my peripheral vision. Fawad and I both sigh, disappointed.
“Salaams!” Jasmine calls, Emad just behind her.
“What a lovely surprise!” I manage to say, voice saccharine. “How did you?—”
“You must have forgotten to mention it,” Jasmine says, eyes masked behind massive sunglasses. “Luckily, Mamoo mentioned it to Ammi.”
Drat Papa for mentioning it to Mahum Phuppo! Leave it to Emad’s wretched fiancée to invite herself yet again. Honestly, does she have nothing better to do?
I glare at Emad, and he does wither slightly.
“There—oh.” Rizwan appears as well, hands empty of the picnic baskets. He looks from me to Fawad on the ground, then to Jasmine and Emad. He looks confused. “We’re all set up over there,” he finally says.
I stand up, brushing off my dress, and walk ahead with him, wanting to reach Shanzay first to warn her. Behind me, Fawad sighs.
The picnic baskets have been laid out on a large table in the park, beneath the shade of a tree, while a picnic blanket has been set up a little to the side. Asif is feeding Naadia grapes while Shanzay drinks some lemonade. I hurry toward her.
“Shan—” I start, but she looks over my shoulder, spotting Jasmine before I can say another word.
“Don’t worry,” Shanzay says to me, her smile genuine. “I’m perfectly okay. I’ve moved on, remember?”
I smile with relief, squeezing her hand.
As the picnic continues, I see she is truly not bothered by Emad and Jasmine’s appearance in the slightest. Her new crush really must be a balm! Oh, I am so happy for her.
Rizwan sits beside me, just across from her, and we munch on cold turkey sandwiches. Fawad and Asif throw around a football, while Jasmine and Emad harass Naadia, who sends me SOS signals with her eyes.
I consider leaving Shanzay alone with Rizwan, but then he starts regaling us with stories of his old rugby days, and it feels rude to get up just then.
“What is that?” Shanzay asks.
“You don’t know what rugby is?” Rizwan asks, dumbfounded. He proceeds to explain it to her in detail, and Shanzay listens attentively.
“That does sound fun!”
I smile, listening as well. Then, Shanzay gets up to soak in some sun – she must be nervous! – leaving Rizwan and I alone.
“I have visited the States thrice now, so next time, it is you who must visit me,” Rizwan says, giving me a sweet smile. “I can show you around London, and we can go see all the pretty libraries at Oxford.”
“That does sound lovely,” I say, trying to signal to Shanzay to come join us again, but she isn’t paying attention. “But I cannot travel alone.”
Not to mention I scarcely think Papa will approve of such a trip, nor would he accompany me.
“Why not?” he asks, eating his cheese and crackers.
“Papa wouldn’t like it.”
“What do you mean? You are a working adult, surely your father lets you take trips on your own or with friends.”
I laugh. “It isn’t that he stops me, per se, it’s just that he does not wish for me to go.”
Technically, I can go – I have my own money, I know the way the world works, but Papa is positively frightened by the idea of me traveling alone or with friends. It isn’t that he wishes to limit me; he does not see the point in it, since he always obliges whenever Naadia and I wish to go on vacation.
In truth, he is afraid for me to travel alone. I have only ever traveled with him. To a certain extent, I understand: the world is cruel, and I am a sheltered young lady. Of course, he wishes to keep me safe.
“So you can go,” Rizwan replies, a little confused.
“Yes, but I don’t wish to do anything that would make him unhappy,” I explain. I live under his roof; why would I disrespect him so? I show I am grateful by being obedient.
Everything that I am, that I have, is because of him, so I do everything that I can to make him happy, so long as it is not at the expense of my own happiness, of course.
He does make it difficult, as of late. Since the day I was sick and snapped at him, he’s been distant. No matter how I try to coax a good mood out of him, offering ice cream or to go for a walk together, he’s withdrawn. Not angry, just quiet.
He has even taken to making his own coffee in the mornings and leaving before I come down. I miss our little routine.
I should ask Fawad about it. It seems he sees more of Papa these days than I do. My gaze inadvertently finds him, standing beside Shanzay, the two chatting. Shanzay laughs at something Fawad says, and my eyebrows furrow ever so slightly.
Fawad is not so funny, I think to myself, something strange nudging in my chest.
“You make unlikely friends,” Rizwan says, following my gaze.
“Sorry?” I ask, shifting my focus to him.
“You and Shanzay,” he says. “I would not expect it.”
I consider this. “I did not expect it, at first, either,” I agree. I had befriended her at first because I was bored and lonely and thought I could be helpful to her, but now she’s become a true friend.
“She’s a bit of a frazzled girl,” he says. “Not as refined as you are, or as poised.”
“Yes, she rather is,” I agree, a smile engulfing my face, for therein lies her charm, which I suspect Rizwan is subtly alluding to as well. She is so innocent and sweet, not constantly trying to be anything other than what she is. She has the courage to be true.
“She’s either awfully quiet or chattering on and on,” Rizwan adds. I smile at him brightly.
“Isn’t she just?” I say. It is yet another reason I like her, her chattering is a comfort to me, bringing vibrant colors to my life when things are fading to gray.
Oh, I am so glad he sees her!
I stifle a laugh, as I see Rizwan and I are the only ones talking. The others are gathered around, mostly quiet, particularly Jasmine, who is whimpering due to the heat, and Emad, who keeps swatting mosquitoes on his arm.
“Let’s play cards!” I suggest. Everyone is being so boring. I usher everyone over to the picnic blanket we have laid out on the grass, and we all assemble around in a circle. I sit next to Shanzay, and Rizwan comes to sit next to me, probably wanting to be close to her. I bite back a smile.
We play a round of cards, but it isn’t very fun.
“This isn’t very diverting,” Rizwan whispers to me. I pout in agreement. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, before addressing everyone with lively impudence. “Let’s play another game!” he says. “Humaira tells me she wants to know what everyone’s thinking.”
I smile; oh, that could be fun! Shanzay chatters on in response, saying a great deal, and it only makes Rizwan and I laugh more. She is so sweet!
“Is Humaira sure she wants to hear what we’re all thinking?” Fawad asks, voice distinct as he looks from Rizwan to me. His dark eyes are cold.
“No, no,” I say, laughing carelessly. “Don’t tell me what you’re thinking – just say anything good.”
“It seems like such an obnoxious thing to say,” Jasmine murmurs to Emad. “Some girls are so attention-seeking, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, I agree completely,” Emad whispers to her. “No one can be as elegant as you, babe.”
Rizwan gives me a look, hearing this as well, and I bite back another grin. “No, no, you’re right, Fawad, Humaira doesn’t want to know what you’re thinking,” he announces. “Instead, she wants to know one thing very clever, two things moderately clever, or three things boring.”
“Oh, I can start then, that should be easy,” Shanzay says, smiling. “I probably say three boring things just by opening my mouth, since I am always babbling on.”
“Only three?” Rizwan says beneath his breath.
“Surely, Shan, you’ll think of more than just three,” I say, laughing before I realize what I've said.
I still, heart stopping entirely as the smile freezes on my face.
That came out much harsher than I intended. I laugh quickly, trying to push the comment away, but Shanzay is clearly hurt. She is no longer smiling at all.
Fawad fixes me with a scalding glance. I look away.
“Yes,” Shanzay stutters. “You’re right.”
She fiddles with the end of her scarf, her gaze trained on her hands. I cannot see her eyes, but I am sure they are filled with tears.
Oh no. I didn’t mean it, not like that! Regret lodges in my throat. She did not deserve that. Her bottom lip quivers, and there is a tremor in her hands now.
I look to the others, who are sitting in silence. They avoid my eyes, except for Fawad, who still glares. I look away from him, unable to bear the reproach in his eyes.
“Shan—” I begin, my voice light. She suddenly gets up.
“It’s so hot,” she says cheerily, forcing a smile on her face. “I think I’ll go take a walk.”
Before I can respond or say I will join her, she hurries off. Fawad follows her.
“I don’t want to play,” Jasmine says, flipping her hair. “This game is stupid.”
“Agreed,” Emad says.
“Come, let’s walk, too,” Jasmine says. “I’m tired of just sitting in one spot.”
So it is Rizwan and I, once more, for Asif and Naadia have not been paying attention to anything but themselves this entire while, the pair giggling and talking in their own little world.
“What bores,” Rizwan says, assessing the situation.
My mouth feels dry – guilt riddles through me. I stand up, trying to catch my breath.
It was just a small comment, and Shanzay will know I didn’t mean any harm. She’ll be fine, as she always is.
Rizwan stands as well, coming in front of me. I brush away my thoughts and fix him with a bright smile, putting up a perfectly fine pretense.
“Shall we walk?” he asks. I nod, and we fall into step together, walking away from the others to some rose bushes. I brush my hands over the petals, trying to calm the unease in my heart.
“I’m glad we are alone,” Rizwan says, pulling my gaze toward him. I blink, confused.
“Oh?”
He smiles. “I want to tell you that I really like you,” he says. “I have never met a more perfect girl and believe you and I are well-suited. Would you like to be with me? It can be arranged quite easily for us to court and eventually marry.”
“W-What?” I sputter, thinking for a moment I am having a stroke due to the heat and emotion. But Rizwan is being perfectly serious.
“You cannot be so surprised,” he says, looking at me indulgently. “I knew it at the wedding two months ago, and as I was driving back to tell you, that incident with Shanzay occurred, and afterwards, I lost my courage.” He takes a deep breath. “But I won’t lose it now. Humaira, you’re beautiful, good natured, kind, and sweet. I have never met a more flawless woman, and I truly have deep feelings for you.”
“I am not so perfect,” I say quietly, shaking my head. Fawad would confirm as much.
“You’re too modest,” he replies. “Another admirable quality.” Perhaps he says something more, continuing to sing my praises, but I do not hear him.
Oh, how could this happen? Again ?
“I—I don’t know what to say,” I manage, laughing a little. He smiles.
“You need time, of course,” he says. “Think nothing of it. Give me your response whenever you are ready.”
I nod, and we walk back to join the others. Polite conversation picks up once more.
The picnic is cleared shortly after, everyone making their way back to their cars in silence. I try to get a moment alone with Shanzay, but she disappears before I can speak with her, which makes me frown.
Surely this is being blown out of proportion?
But things only get worse. I hear someone approach me, as I am putting the picnic basket in my car’s trunk, and I do not need to turn to know who it is beside me.
“Time to go, I think,” I say, meeting Fawad’s face with a smile on my own.
“Humaira, I can’t let you go without speaking my mind,” he says, clearly angry. He blocks my path, the both of us shielded from everyone else’s view by my car’s trunk.
I still, taking quick, short breaths.
“Badly done, Humaira,” he says, voice disappointed. “ Badly done .”
“Surely—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“How could you be so cruel?” he asks, astonished. “Shanzay is a supposedly dear friend of yours. Yet you treated her so callously! You go on and on about how important she is to you, yet your behavior is completely opposite to what you say!”
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” I say offhandedly, trying to minimize the situation. “I don’t think she was very hurt by it, either.”
“She was,” he says, eyes blazing. “She spoke of nothing else for the rest of the afternoon! And wondered what she could have done to earn such harshness from you. She thought it was her fault!”
My eyes well with tears as he lectures and scolds. I am sorry! I wish to say, but the words do not come. When he is finished, Fawad shakes his head, severely let down.
“This was badly done, Humaira,” he says again, voice low, and then he leaves, going to his car. I slam the trunk shut and see everyone else has left, too. When Fawad’s car pulls out of the parking lot, I am the only one who remains.
What is left, in the end, but my wretched, wretched heart?
And with nothing to be done, to make matters worse.