Page 36 of If I Loved You Less
The warmth and comfort of two days ago has gone. There is a cold expression on his face. I want to make a childish comment at him about how Rizwan is here and just as handsome and spectacular as I had always thought, and how the waiting was worth it, but before I can, Sadaf comes to the kitchen to grab some water.
“Humaira!” she cries, enveloping me in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever, where have you been?”
“I knooow,” I say, leaning into her tall frame. We pull back and smile at each other. Sadaf is almost half a foot taller than me, wearing a pair of dark jeans over her long legs and a black sweater with a black hijab. Her gold nose ring is the only jewelry she has on, and it gives her a very striking look.
“I’m glad Naadia threw this little brunch together and I got to see you,” Sadaf says.
“Yes, so good of Naadia,” I say, giving her a conspiratorial smile.
“What?” Sadaf asks, confused when she catches the look on my face. She has a sister, too, so she knows all about the silent communication. “Fill me in.”
Naadia gives her the rundown about Rizwan, only sidetracking a few times.
“Oh! This ishim?” Sadaf says. Naadia and I have of course mentioned Zeeshan Uncle’s enigmatic nephew before. “He’s a total hottie. I love this for you, Humaira. Ten out of ten.”
“Right!”
“Even though all men are trash,” she reminds me. Sadaf is tough with a capital T and takes no nonsense from men. “When they look that good, a girl can make an exception.”
“Amen to that,” Naadia agrees.
“And what an entrance, Humaira! Love the new skirt,” Sadaf says.
“We are just sogladyou could make it,” Naadia says in mock gratitude, fawning over me. I laugh, shrugging her off.
“I decided to grace you with my presence, after all,” I reply, flipping my hijab end. This, at last, prompts a comment from Fawad, who is putting the tray of fruit beside the rest of the food.
Oh. I forgot he was in the kitchen with us.
“You didn’t know if you could come, yet you had time to bake croissants?” Fawad asks, tone unpleasant. I cut my glance his way, but before I can say anything, he walks out.
Um. Okay. Whatever.
“Everyone come eat,” Naadia says to the others. Everyone comes in to get food, and Rizwan goes straight for the croissants, piling three onto his plate and smiling at me as he does. I giggle, then go to grab Shanzay, who looks great in a black jumpsuit and cardigan.
I had already called her about Rizwan, so she knows. It’shim.
“He’s so handsome,” Shanzay whispers to me.
“Isn’t he!” I squeal. “How is it going with Emad?” I ask, voice low.
“Well, I think!” she replies. “He’s a great listener, and asks me all about working at the office with you, and what types of projects you and I work on, and what we do for fun.”
We both grin, then join the others to get food. I properly greet and hug Haya and Zahra, who are engrossed in their own conversation. I’m glad to see them, too.
“I’m sure everyone’s been asking, so I won’t ask how wedding planning is going and will instead ask something much more fun,” I tell Haya. “How’shoneymoonplanning going?”
Haya blushes, her cheeks turning the same pink as her glasses. She’s wearing a pastel blue sweater with a matching hijab and a pair of cream pants. She has a heart-shaped face with big brown eyes and is just the sweetest thing. Zahra elbows her, giggling.
“I bought her the cutest sets of lingerie,” Zahra informs me. She’s wearing boyfriend jeans and a blouse with an oversized cardigan on top, her scarf a dark green.
“Stop,” Haya says, covering her face with her hands for a second. Then she turns back to me. “Carlos is booking everything, it’s going to be a surprise.”
I gasp. “A surprise? That’s so stressful.”
“Don’t worry, we’re guiding him,” Zahra says. “He texts me and Sadaf like every other day asking for our opinions. At this point,I’mplanning her honeymoon.”
Haya giggles. “Perfect.”
