Page 42 of If I Loved You Less
Another heir, just like me! Fateful.
“I am here for business, but of course, I have some time for fun, as well.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I giggle.
“There must always be time for fun,” I agree. “Can you see yourself living in America, then?” I ask.
“It is a possibility. The more time I spend here, the more I like it,” he says. “Certain people could surely persuade me to stay.” He gives me a warm smile. “I certainly would not be the first to move continents because of love, either.”
I bite back a smile of my own, not responding.
“My mother, of course, has been badgering me to get married,” he continues. “Do you feel the same pressure? I know a lot of desi girls do.”
Excellent steering of conversation. It’s always a good thing to let girls know one has marriage on their mind.
“Not at all,” I say. “Papa is quite the opposite where he doesn't want me to marry. And I have a pretty good life, alhamdulillah, so I understand his perspective that I should be in no hurry to leave it. I suppose I will only marry for love.”
“Reasonable,” he agrees.
“I do not think someone should marry simply because ‘it’s the right time’ or whatever else people say,” I continue. “Look at Phuppo and Zeeshan Uncle. They waited for their right person, and now they are so happy.”
He listens attentively as I speak. “It is good to believe,” he says.
I sigh-laugh. “It is not always easy, but yes having faith is good.”
I wait a moment to see if he will deepen the conversation.
If people have the courage to ask, I’d like to think I have the courage to answer.
But he does not ask. I wish he would, though I must say a part of me is secretly relieved when he does not. Perhaps I enjoy being the martyr. Naadia would say so, at least.
We continue conversing, and I find that we get along well. It must meansomething.
This is the part where my best friend, Areeba, would say I am making leaps and bounds, and I should take it slow, but I just can’t. I am so sure of my heart, and I am rarely wrong, so I trust this feeling.
“Let’s go out and see the snow,” I say, after we have drunk coffee. Phuppo and Zeeshan Uncle have been nowhere to be seen; as my designated cool aunt, she does make an excellent wing-woman.
“Let’s,” he agrees, grabbing our coats.
We head outside, and I take in a deep breath of the brisk air, shivering. Rizwan watches me as I do, an amused expression on his face.
“What?” I ask, when his staring continues.
“Your nose is red,” he says. “Like Rudolph. Very endearing.” He teases.
I let out a mock gasp of insult. While his back is turned, I pick up some snow and pack it tight into a little ball.
“Rizwan!” I say. The instant he turns, he receives a face full of snow to the face. “Hah!”
I laugh, triumphant.
“How rude! And here I thought you a delicate lady!” he exclaims, stooping down to pack snow into his own hands. When he rises with a sizable snowball, I give him a warning glance.
“You wouldn’t,” I dare. He comes closer, eyes gleaming, and I squeal, making a run for it.
“Oh no you don’t!” He reaches out and grabs me. It’s really not inappropriate, given the approximate seventeen layers of clothing and gloves between us, but my stomach lurches all the same. I swat his arm away, but I know I cannot outrun him. I stop.
“No, no,” I say, covering my face with my hands. I peek out to see Rizwan grinning.
“I’ll be very gentle,” he says, the snowball hovering over my face. There’s no escaping it. I nod slightly, and he mushes the snowball against my nose. It spreads across my cheeks, my lips, melting instantly upon contact, and I giggle as the icy water enters my mouth.
