Him & His Muslimah

43

Zaib/Zoya

"This armchair looks perfect next to the couch," Zoya concluded, her eyes glossing over the settled furniture which Zaib and her had cumbersomely pushed to an appropriate position until it attained her satisfaction. She had skillfully, reading magazines after magazines, prepped to go shopping and discussed colour schemes with Zaib.

Zoya was always excited to create and decorate her home so, she put her plans into action. Despite jet lag, Zaib gladly accompanied her, going through the furniture store as she beelined from one lane to the other, appreciating and observing the vast showroom of utilities.

Anything she seemed to fancy, he bought without a second's thought.

"Now that our home's complete, I can finally sleep all day," Zaib laid exhausted with a lethargic smile on his lips as he drummed his fingers ceremoniously. Zoya giggled, surveying his frazzled eyes. "Is that your happy dance?" She threw her head back, laughing upon his nod.

"You can't be so tired yet. We have a whole family dinner to prepare for!" She announced and Zaib immediately sat up as his mouth dropped with a slight 'oh' of realization. His family was coming over for dinner tonight.

"Yeah, oh," she parroted. "I've already decided the menu so I'll start cooking," she stood, stretching and then skillfully wadded her hair up in a high bun. She noticed Zaib studying her but after the momentary silence, she initiated her steps towards the kitchen.

A step away from him, he grabbed her arm and pulled her on top of him, her gasp filling the room. He cradled her like a newborn child and then dropped a peck on her cheek. She whined, kicking the air to leave his protective hold.

"Zoya Malik, you look acutely gorgeous when you tie your hair like that," he muttered and then stared into her melting gaze. She always enticed him and managed to throw him off guard at the most random of times.

"I'm sweaty and disgusting from all the work. Stop hugging me so close," she bashfully admitted, wanting to leave his lap. Zaib stared with a pinched forehead and then wordlessly closed the gap, kissing her mouth.

"You're mine, both dolled up or sweaty gunk so I get to hold you whenever," he chirped and her cheeks inflamed as she pushed against his chest. After finally breaking his arms loose, she jumped out of his embrace and dashed to the kitchen, sighing at his bittersweet words.

Zaib followed her into the kitchen, crackling his fingers as if he were about to show Zoya his immaculate karate skills of chopping the onions with his wrists. She stared blankly as he grabbed the potatoes from the vegetable basket.

"What're you doing?" She mumbled narrow-eyed. He turned back and shrugged. "Helping you with the veggies," he answered nonchalantly and she immediately pushed at his back. "I'm making dinner alone," she declared and then gave another push at his back, waddling him out of the kitchen.

"What? But..why? I can help—" she shook her head, determined to disapprove. "I need to prove to you that I am indeed an amazing chef, with or without your help," she explained.

Zaib turned around, his gaze filled with mirth. "You can't cook better than me so don't try babe. I'll be here to support," he winked her way as he proceeded to step back into the kitchen. Zoya shrieked, stomping for his attention.

"After this dinner, you'll beg for my food but too bad, I'll have proven my worth and will enjoy your suffering," Zoya huffed up an evil laughter and then fled back to whisking the eggs.