Hayat Amanullah was always the pampered child in her household. With loving, hardworking parents and two older brothers who were more like best friends, Hayat was never neglected of anything. She had no sense of responsibility, no worry in the world...
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~ White rose (flower): Secrecy ~
I end up making tacos before Aneela's arrival, not wanting to go overboard but still wanting to make something substantial for her first visit.
I realize that I tend to do a lot, be a lot, give a lot, and it overwhelms people. Not everybody likes people who try to be overly friendly or bubbly.
Not that I'm like that anymore, but still.
Aneela texts me after three P.M. and says she's on her way. I sit at the kitchen island with bated breath, too anxious to do anything but stare at the wall.
Should I ask her if she knows why Ihsaan is being weird? I obviously wouldn't use that phrasing, but is it appropriate to bring that up only the second time I'm meeting her?
Maybe I should lay low the first time. I wouldn't want to scare her off, not when I'm just starting to get to know her.
The sound of the doorbell jars me out of my thoughts. I slip out of my chair and rush towards the door, pausing five seconds before opening it so she doesn't think I was waiting (which I was, but she doesn't need to know that).
As soon as I open the door and see Aneela's bright smile, I'm once again taken aback by her beauty. She's positively radiant, every part of her emitting an ethereal glow. I have to blink several times to escape my daze.
"Salaam!" she says, leaning forward to envelop me in a hug. I'm surprised by the gesture, not because I don't like it but because it's something I would've wanted to initiate had I not feared it might be too much.
She smells like Dove lavender soap. A clean, comforting scent.
When she pulls away, she hands me a bouquet of roses. "I hope you like white ones."
For a moment, I'm too stunned to form a response. But when my silence elicits a concerned look from her, I shake my head and smile weakly. "Wa 'Alaikum Salaam. I'm sorry, please come in. Excuse me, I just wasn't expecting . . ." I glance at the roses. "You really didn't have to."
Aneela smiles and steps inside as I close the door behind her. For a moment, her eyes rove over the inside of the house, an emotion I can't quite decipher brewing in them. When she turns back to me moments later, she seems a little shaken, but her next words distract me from asking if she's okay. "No, no, it's alright. I know you like flowers. And I didn't want to come empty-handed."
I do a double take, my hands tightening on the bouquet. "What? How did you know I like flowers?"
"Oh." She lets out a peal of nervous laughter, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry, that must seem so stalker-ish. Just . . . in classes and at work, Arafat was always talking to his friends about your garden."
A lump the size of a tennis ball has formed in my throat. I try to swallow it while simultaneously blinking rapidly to get rid of the moisture that has formed in my eyes.
