Hazel had never felt so nervous in her life.
Dressed in a simple black abaya and a soft cream veil, she held a small tiffin in her hands - Haris's favourite chicken noodles and her fresh brownies.
She kept whispering to herself:
"Bas... Allah madad kar dena. Please don't let me ruin anything today."
But Hazel being Hazel...
ruined something anyway.
When she entered Haris's office, her hands shook so much that her coffee cup slipped and spilled over his blueprint - the most important file of the day.
Hazel froze.
Her throat tightened.
"Oh no... I'm so, so sorry... I didn't mean to-"
Before she could finish, Haris stood up, jaw tight.
"Hazel... tum ne-"
He stopped.
Not because of the file.
But because...
Her glasses were crooked, fogged, and almost falling off her face.
Her cheeks were red, her veil slightly out of place, and she looked like she might start crying.
Haris sighed - long, tired, defeated - but not angry.
"Idhar aao," he murmured softly.
Hazel blinked.
He reached forward, gently held the frame, and with his own handkerchief, cleaned her glasses, then settled them back on her nose properly... carefully... like she was something fragile.
Hazel's heart forgot how to beat.
"You came all the way here... just to bring food?"
His voice was calm now, unexpectedly soft.
She nodded shakily.
"Ji... I just wanted to surprise you."
Haris looked away for a second - because this reminded him of something...
Their first-night conversation.
The way she had shyly told him:
"I don't need anything expensive... sirf aap se thodi si tawajjuh chahiye."
And now here she was...
still trying.
Still giving.
When he finally looked back at her, his expression had changed.
"Let's eat together," he said quietly.
"And... leave the mess. I'll fix it."
Hazel almost smiled - small, shy, glowing - because this was the first time he didn't scold her for her clumsiness.
Maybe... this was the first spark of something between them.
Write a comment ...