Page 51 of If I Loved You Less
“Something to drink?” Emad asks me.
“A Coke please,” I reply, and off he goes to get them. I rub my temples. All that crying has given me a headache, and now Fawad is not even here for me to scold him for it.
“Humaira, bestie,” Asif says, voice hesitant. I startle. Goodness, I had forgotten he was there.
“Yes, dear Asif,” I reply, confused by the strange look he is giving me.
“Why are you being so encouraging to Emad?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“Your manner with him is very ... spirited.” He bites back a smile. “He might get the wrong idea.”
“What?” I balk. What a preposterous notion. “Asif, really you are so silly sometimes.” I wave him off. What has gotten into these brothers today with their ridiculous ideas? “Where is Fawad, by the way?” I ask, changing the subject.
“No idea.” He shrugs. “He’s been in a wretched mood all day.” My heart stills at that, but I ignore it. “Our parents are coming mid-January,” Asif says. “Naadia is stressed, but you have to tell her not to worry.”
“Yes, but in-laws can be quite frightening to manage, especially when they are only around for a month or two in the year.”
“She knows my parents adore her, just like I do,” he says. I smile. Asif really is such a dear.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I will console her. And remind her not to be crazy.”
“Thank you, Humaira,” he says. “What would we do without you?”
Yes, what would they?
Shanzay arrives shortly after. I spend time with her and Emad, watching their interactions. Emad is quite animated and very attentive. The best part of the evening occurs when he takes out his phone and is holding it up very blatantly so we can see his phone case.
And in the phone case is the polaroid of him and Shanzay.
Shanzay and I exchange a glance, eyes wide with excitement. I feel vindicated. A confession is surely forthcoming, it is only a matter of time.
Fawad really was wrong.
Speaking of, he does end up coming (quite late might I add) after dinner has already been served, and then proceeds to ignore me! I would feel more terrible about it if I was not annoyed with him. Every time I seek him out, he deftly avoids me.
Not that I am so preoccupied with him. I have Rizwan to entertain me, and entertain me he does. He is quite attentive and pleasant to talk to.
I am sure the only reason I cannot be as vigilant in my company to him is because I have a headache.
Then, finally, as most people are leaving, I find Fawad sitting alone by the fire in the living room, which is still blazing. I intend to give him a piece of my mind.
When I enter the room, he looks up, firelight dancing across his features, shadows drawing attention to the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He says nothing. His attention is averted to baby Aizah, who sits on his lap, most comfortable since no one is trying to teach her how to crawl.
His silence sobers me. Any anger I felt dissipates.
“Please, let’s not fight,” I say, coming to sit beside him on the couch. Heat from the fire warms my skin. “For some reason I find I cannot bear it.”
“What, you cannot handle anyone being upset with you?” he asks, tone cold. He does not look at me when he speaks, instead focuses on baby Aizah’s hands wrapped around his slender fingers.
“No, it isn’t that.” I have always been well-liked and think it is the fault of others if they do not like me. But that is different – that is with people who scarcely know me.
I cannot bear for Fawad, who truly knows me, to dislike me.
I inch closer to him on the couch, looking at him until he finally turns his gaze upon me. “As irritating as you are, you are a … friend. And Naadia’s brother-in-law. We will know each other for the rest of our lives. It will not do to be fighting.” I smile sweetly, batting my eyelashes for full effect. “Please?”
He releases a resigned breath, rubbing a hand across his beard. “Well, there is nothing to be done now anyways,” he concedes. “Huzaifa called to tell me of Shanzay’s response.”
