Page 97 of If I Loved You Less
How could I not have seen it was Fawad who has occupied her interest all these months, not Rizwan?
Is our friendship really so surface-level? Or have I been so self-absorbed as to not notice?
Suddenly, I am exhausted. And a million emotions more. But Shanzay is waiting for my response.
“Fawad is the last man to lead a girl on,” I manage to say, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. “So if you feel there’s something there, I’m sure there is.”
“Thank you,” Shanzay says, sighing contentedly. “Won’t you eat?”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “Yes…”
Shanzay, sweetheart that she is, makes me a plate, being sure not to include broccoli, for she knows I don’t like it, and how can I say anything, now? And what to say, to begin with?
That if Fawad should marry anyone, it should be me?
I love him.The thought enters my mind suddenly, and I know it to be true.
Fuck!
How inopportune that I should realize just now! When everything is a mess. And he might hate me, anyway.
But I love him!
No—no, I cannot think such things! Not now! Not when it is too late!
Oh, why did I not realize sooner? Love is not at all how I imagined it to be. I did not recognize him, not when he was standing in front of me all this time.
I drove myself crazy searching and searching for the great love of my life, when all along he was right there. He has always been there.
But there is nothing to be done. Shanzay likes him, and I won’t hurt her.
Yes, it is best not to say anything. I sit and eat, listening as Shanzay explains her summer course to me, nodding and smiling at her.
But no matter how hard I try, the voice does not leave my mind, the words repeating themselves over and over:
I love him.
ChapterTwenty-Three
No matter how I try, I cannot stop thinking of him. It terrifies me, which only makes the feeling twice fold.
I amneverterrified. It’s a point of great pride for me that I am not easily fazed or frightened, but what I feel for him ... it scares me straight to tears. All this love I have for him – if I cannot give it to him, where do I put it? Who do I give it to?Another?
No, this love is tailored specifically for him, I cannot re-gift it to another, nor do I wish to.
I am afraid to see him, for what if Shanzay is right, and he does love her? I have never liked a man who did not first like me; this is new territory. What if I make a fool of myself? I so hate being a fool. And I cannot ruin things, for he is family!
At the very least, I eventually decide, I should go apologize. That seems like a good start. I was terribly rude the other day.
I walk to his house, and it is not too hot for the exercise to wind me, but I do feel breathless all the same when I knock on the door, waiting for him to open it.
“Salaam,” he says, stepping aside so I can come in. That must be a good sign.
“Salaam,” I respond. He’s wearing a loose, linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms. I nibble my bottom lip, unsure of how to proceed.
“Tea?” he asks, walking toward the kitchen. I follow, sitting down at the island.
“Yes, please.”
