Hona Tha Pyaar ✔

4. Prepping the Desi way

Saira Malik

"Mom we have our flight the day after tomorrow. And how can we still be shopping around?"

I groaned, carrying the million shopping bags inside the house. Mom shut the door behind her, rolling her eyes at me. Bhai appeared from his room, saying Salam and descended the stairs taking the bags from Mom in his one hand and walked away.

I look at his shocked, my mouth falling to the floor.

"Bhai, mere hath me bhi bags the!"

Without looking back, he walked further and dropped all the bags on the floor, crashing on the couch and flashed me a smirk.

Huffing, I drag my wobbly legs to the living room. Letting go of the stone weighing bags, I collapse on the couch.

Ah! Finally something soft to lay your butt on.

I kicked my shoes off, and peeled the socks away and flexed my fingers. Pulling my legs up, I get comfortable laying on my side. I stretch my stiff muscles for a good seconds before shutting my eyes. A small content smile tugging on my lips.

I groaned when someone kicked me. "Not now, Bhai. I'm gonna faint. Mom dragged me from store to store of that huge plaza. She didn't let me buy something to eat. All I had was cereal in the morning. " I whined, turning the other side, facing the couch.

Ever since Dad announced that we'll be going to Hyderabad for the summer, Mom had totally lost it. I mean it literally. She's lost her sh*t.

She ordered stuffs online, and kept visiting every other store she can.

But not buying anything from, because she didn't find anything worth.

The hell dude! Who does that?

Spending hours in a store, going through all the aisles, inspecting things like you are so into and and ready to pay. But you come back empty handed!

I felt fingers tracing my bare feet. The simple gesture triggering me.

"Dammit it!"

I shot up, coming face to face with Bhai. Who was trying so hard to keep himself from laughing. I felt anger surging with me.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY, SHOKOOR MALIK!" I roared, slamming my fisted hands on the couch.

Every cell in my body ached. My hands were still numb from carrying those f*cking bags around. Mom didn't let me sit for 5 minutes straight. Running around the floors. My legs hurt and I am on my f*cking period!

I wanted to yell and throw things at him. But I didn't have the strength in me to do it. I felt someone, pull my hand and my torso backwards. I didn't have to turn to see who it was, because I could feel his touch.

Instantly, my head went to his chest as I complained about everything thing to my Father.

"Papa, bhai tang karre!"

"It's okay, I'll tell him not to." He consoled, and I felt relieved.

I don't what it is about the Father-Daughter bond. But, it's undescribable. You have to feel it, to know it.

No matter how old you are, you are still your daddy's little princess. He holds you, fights for you, let you cry on his shoulder, whenever you need. You can tell him anything you want and complain about things and he'll be like 'it's okay, I'll tell him not to do it', when it comes to Bhai.

I smile at him, and at myself.

"Did your mother trouble you alot?" He whispered.

I nod my head, against his chest. "She didn't let me buy anything. All these," I gesture to the bags "are for the family. You won't find a single thing for me." I pouted.