Haya - The forbidden love

Chapter 9

I adjusted the third overstuffed bag on the floor, admiring my packing prowess. Three weeks in Pakistan here I come! A wave of pride swelled in my chest.

"Umm, I think that's enough," I announced with a satisfied grin, turning to Hania. My smile faltered as I met her jaw-on-the-floor expression. Blinking, I followed her gaze to the luggage mountain.

"Three weeks or three years?" she deadpanned, gesturing wildly at the bags. Confusion painted my face as I glanced back at my handiwork.

"Only three weeks! What's wrong?" I squeaked, voice laced with bewilderment. Hania simply shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. She walked out, leaving me more confused than a lost puppy.

Moments later, she reappeared, arms crossed like a seasoned border guard. "Leave some bags here. One, max!" she declared firmly.

"But why? I packed everything! Clothes, shoes, gifts, and, most importantly, my extensive sunglasses collection!" I protested, feeling a panic attack brewing. Hania rolled her eyes dramatically, making me wince.

"Sunscreen and shades for three weeks? Girl, you're practically packing for a desert expedition!" she exclaimed, exasperation colouring her voice. "What are you even planning to wear?"

I gestured vaguely towards the pile of vibrant dresses and kurtas adorning my bed. Hania scanned them with laser focus, then beamed. " Perfect. Wear the pink one."

Relief washed over me. "Thank goodness! I was totally lost," I confessed.

We spent the next hour editing my luggage masterpiece down to a respectable one-bag wonder. It wasn't easy, but Hania held firm. Finally, with a triumphant fist pump, we declared the mission accomplished.

As I zipped up my (now manageable) bag, a warm feeling bloomed in my chest.

•°•°•°

As the doorbell's shrill cry pierced the air, I fumbled with my earring, its pink gem flashing defiance against my equally pink dress. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed my suspicions: chaotic disaster zone. But hey, at least the earring matched! Throwing open the door, I was met with the sight of Rohan, looking infuriatingly put-together in his blue shirt and black jeans. Ugh, even his hair seemed to cooperate today.

"Rohan? You're early," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes for effect. He sauntered in, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

"Or maybe you're just fashionably late," he countered, the smirk widening. "As always."

"If you're done admiring your nonexistent charm," I retorted, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "we have a flight to catch in, like, 3 hours."

His eyes widened in mock surprise. "A flight? Oh right I forgot we have flight in an hour "

"Seriously, Rohan?" I exclaimed, my jaw clenching. "

I glared. This was why we couldn't be friends - . We were like oil and water, destined to fizz and sputter at the slightest contact.