Page 38 of If I Loved You Less
“We look amazing,” Emad says. “I will be keeping this, thank you.”
Shanzay and I exchange a glance. Ah!
When everyone disperses to pray, I pull Shanzay aside for a private moment in the corner.
“Emad is most definitely interested in you,” I say. She gasps.
“Really?” she asks, excited, then nervous. “How can you tell?”
“From the way he is so attentive, of course! And his gaze was on you constantly,” I say. “Plus, did you not see how excited he was about the polaroid? It’s your first picture together! No wonder he wants to save it. So sweet!”
“But what should I do? How do I behave?” She nibbles her bottom lip. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Do not worry, dear Shanzay,” I say. “I will teach you, of course.”
“Humaira, you’re so kind,” Shanzay says. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I give her a hug. “Happy to help.”
We go to pray, then join the others back in the main room, where everyone is spread out on the sofas and floor, broken off into little pairs. Naadia is sitting on the edge of a chair with Asif, the pair talking with Sadaf, while Haya and Zahra are in their own little world. Emad and Shanzay have their own conversation, while Rizwan asks me about my job and where I studied, then I ask about him.
“How was Oxford?” I ask. “I’ve always wanted to go. When we went to England last, I didn't even get to visit!”
“I did enjoy my time there,” he replied.
“I love all those old libraries,” I say. “Even though the books must be terribly boring, the architecture and design is so beautiful and enchanting.”
I hear a little noise behind me and turn to see Fawad over my shoulder. He’s been listening in, expression sour.
“Only you would forsake such a wealth of knowledge and history for aesthetics,” Fawad says, dark eyes stormy.
I bristle at his tone. That was an unfair thing to say, and he knows it is. I open my mouth to set him straight, blood drumming through my veins, but before I can, Rizwan speaks.
“Aesthetics are important, too, and cannot be entirely ignored,” he says as I face him. “We are a shallow sort of people, drawn to what is beautiful.”
And as he saysbeautiful, he smiles just at me. My cheeks warm and I smile back, mood placated.
I turn around to give Fawad a superior glance, to which he makes an exasperated face and rolls his eyes. Without another word, he stalks away.
No one else really makes anything of it, for he moves quietly and quickly, but it does not escape my notice when he disappears from the main area entirely and goes to Asif and Naadia’s bedroom.
I know I should let it go, but after a moment, I follow him. When I enter, he’s loosening his tie in front of the mirror atop the dresser and releasing a long breath. I close the door behind me and walk further into the room.
He sees me in the reflection and turns, face stunned.
“Humaira—”
“What is your problem?” I ask, irritated. “Why are you being rude to Rizwan, when he has come from so far, and after so long?”
Whatever he was going to say evaporates on his lips. He shuts his mouth, clenching his jaw. He turns back to the mirror and tightens his tie. Then he faces me, taking two long steps toward me.
He stands so close I have to lift my chin to look up at him, and he must angle his face downwards to look at me.
“I am being perfectly civil,” he replies evenly.
I scoff. “You should revisit the meaning of the word.”
I don’t understand it. Why is Fawad in such a bad mood regarding Rizwan? Fawad is probably just upset that I was right once again and that Rizwan is just as handsome and charming as I thought he would be.
