Humsafar .

eighteen

Chapter 18.

I know.

Hassan x Anaaya

"Yeah, I'm on my way. Tell them to wait and get the papers ready for me." He mumbled, completely ignoring the fact that I was stood right behind him.

"Mhmm, yes." He kept talking to a guy called Waseem who was apparently his go to guy over here. Assistant, helper, friend, I didn't know.

I rolled my eyes.

"Hassan, I-" I tried to say something but he put up his hand, telling me to pause since he was on the phone.

"So you think you can do that? Well, go ahead." He said, on the phone.

I was getting late too, you dickhead.

"Hassan," I said again, my voice louder than before. He put a hand on the phone speaker and looked at me.

"Yes, Anaaya?" He asked, in a completely montone voice.

"Can you drop me at my office?" I questioned, he shook his head at me.

Ever since that argument over Ahmad two days ago, we hadn't been intimate, neither had he been romantic of charming towards me but we would talk, it was always straightforward questions and answers. No playing around.

"I can't, I'm already busy. Besides a few guests are coming to meet you today." He replied, making me sigh. f*****g guests.

"They're coming in the evening, I'll go right now and come back before lunch." I answered back. He nodded.

"Okay, well. Go with the driver, he's outside." He simply stated.

If I wanted to go with the driver, I wouldn't have asked you.

He went back to skimming between some files and talking on the phone. Now how do I tell him that I wanted to go with him so we could talk about the fact that I didn't expect him to be friends with Ahmad, I just wanted them to respect each other. For me.

I wasn't stupid. I had just been so upset at his behaviour that day. And confused too.

And he had been stubborn too. And maybe a little arrogant. I just didn't know how to feel about the whole thing.

"Hassan,-" I started off as he was about to leave and he turned around.

"Ab kya hai Anaaya, mujhe jana hai. (What is it, Anaaya? I have to go)"

He declared, exasperated.

"I want to go with you." I replied.

His eyes lingered on my face, staying there for a few moments. After that, he nodded.

"Okay fine, come."

Both of us started to walk downstairs, an awkward silence between us. Why was this man so hard to understand? He would be so thoughful and so charming and yet would turn cold at times. I kept staring at him, trying to figure it out.

It wasn't until I heard the voice of my mother in law that I looked away. She observed the both of us, her eyes raking my clothes. A black top and blue jeans.

"Good morning, you both woke up now?" She questioned, greeting us. I shook ny head.

"Nahin aunty, main jaldi uth gayi thi. (No aunty, I woke up early)" I replied, walking forward.

"Neeche kyun nahi aayi? (Why didn't you come downstairs?)"

"I was arranging the closet and stuff." I answered her question and poured myself a glass of water as Hassan stood near the door. 

"Acha, Anaaya, Hassan breakfast?" Aunty offered the both of us.

I was already full from the club sandwich that Hassan and I had ate in the morning, sitting in separate places.

I had ordered two club sandwiches from foodpanda in the early hours of the morning, the sudden food craving had even made me wake up early. Even though I wanted to order only for myself, I didn't want to be rude to my man.

So from eight in the morning to ten, we had eaten, worked and arranged our closets without even talking to each other like husband and wife.

"Thanks mom, I had a sandwich already." Hassan answered her mother, smiling. I hadn't seen that smile in two days.

"But I didn't see you come downstairs?" She interrogated. I wanted to roll my eyes, I stopped myself from doing so.

"Anaaya and I ate upstairs actually." He answered for the both of us.

"Oh, everyone was waiting for breakfast." She mumbled but Hassan was already ready to leave.

"Mama, we're getting late." He announced, she frowned.

"Anaaya kahan ja rahi hai? Aaj saturday hai. (Where is Anaaya going? Today's saturday.)"

Yes it was. But apparently private companies didn't understand the meaning of saturday.

"Office, aunty. They need me there for some drafting." I replied, she clicked her tongue.

"Why don't you do it from home? There's alot of work and Hassan's grandparents are coming to meet you today."

I had already met his grandparents, at the wedding. Why did I have to meet them again? And they were coming in the evening anyway.

"Oh Aunty, I have to g-." She interrupted me before I could even finish speaking.

"Nai na, aaj nahi jao. Thora sa bhi late hua toh bauaht embarass hojaungi main. (Just don't go today, if you come back even a little late, I'll get embarassed)." She argued.

I looked at my husband for help, knowing damn well that anything I said might be considered offensive.

Besides, I had promised her several times that the weekend was family time and I would spend it with family just like I used to do at home. This seemed like breaking that promise. But it wasn't my choice, I worked for a  company and I had to abide by their rules and orders.

Hassan sighed, putting a hand on his mother's shoulder.

"Mama, no one's gonna embarass you. She said she'll come back before lunch, right? So trust her. Hmm?" He defended, his mother sighed.

"Hassan," She trailed off.

He groaned, clearly not in the mood for a debate.

"Maa, I'll come home around lunch time so I'll pick her up,. Ab chalo Anaaya."

He promised and a look of satisfaction crossed her face, she nodded and then bid us both goodbye.

We sat in his black car as he started to drive away. I scrolled through my phone, pretending to be busy instead of expressing anything. It felt nice to have him speak up for me, it was a little gesture but it was the gesture that I appreciated.

He asked me for directions, since it was the first time he was dropping me there, I told him the address.

"We didn't fight, Anaaya. It was an argument. You can say anything you want to say." He said quietly, his voice barely audible.

He must have noticed me fidgeting. I blew out breath from my mouth, thinking about where to start.

"Thanks." I said instead. He frowned.

"For what?"

"For telling aunty to trust me."

"It's not a big deal." He shrugged it off.

"Listen, about what happened yesterday, I-" I started off again but he put a hand, motioning me to stop. Twice in a day? God damn.

He parked the car at a side and I realised I had reached my destination. But I stayed in the car, interested in finishing this conversation.

"Look, I understand that he's your bestfriend and I won't say anything to you about your friendship as long as it's not threatening our relationship."

His hand reached out and he put it on mine, a reassuring smile on his face. Maybe he had thought this through or maybe I had misunderstood what he had said before.

I entangled my fingers with his.

"You can be friends with him all you want, but you can't expect me to be friends with him. It's as simple as that." He clearly explained.

I nodded, not even thinking about it anymore. Ahmad was my bestfriend, not his. So f**k it. If I kept arguing over this, I would be cracking a relationship that hadn't even built itself properly yet.

"Okay, I understand." I saod quietly, then leaned forward placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

A sign of understanding, of compassion, of compromise. His lips turned into a smile.

"Now get your butt to work and I'll pick you up at two."

I got out of the car with that and he drove away, leaving me happy and contented.

As the time of the lunch came by and I received Hassan's text, I packed up my belongings and with an extremely grumpy mood, I walked outside towards the parking lot.

I saw him waiting for me near the right side, his face looked tired and he gave me a small lazy smile. I took slow steps towards the car and sat on the front seat.

"Heyy," I said, dragging the greeting with a sigh.

"Salam, how was your day?" He asked, as we started to drive off.

"Ugh, don't even ask." I groaned, leaning against the seat.

"That bad?" He enquired with a chuckle.

"They just think creatives are magical or something, you can't just tell us to write in half an hour expecting an oscar worthy piece." I rambled, he didn't say anything and instead shoved a package on my lap.

I frowned, looking at him.

"What's that?"

"Why don't you see it yourself?" I opened the package and saw our passports along with a few documents fall on my lap.

I read the date on the ticket and gasped at the information.

"We'e going tomorrow?!" I exclaimed, my heart bursting from excitement.

"Mhmm, to Corsica," He smirked.

I was beginning to think he had forgotten about our honeymoon. But he hadn't.

"We haven't even packed yet," I murmured.

"We can pack tonight, chill. I'm just glad there won't be any work for a while." He replied as we started to reach home.

"No, you have to promise that you won't work there." I held out my finger, he smacked it away plafully.

"I'm not the one scratching my head over an article, love."

Love.

Fuck, why did that sound so hot to me?

"You have a british accent when you talk in English." I pointed out. He shrugged. It was a stupid question really. He had studied and worked there, ofcourse he would have picked up on the accent.

"I know." He said back.

"It's hot." I remarked, he chuckled.

"I know." He smugly responded, making me groan this time.

I smacked the passport on his shoulder.

"I hate you." I said this time, waiting for another I know. But he didn't say that.

Instead, he cupped my face.

"I'll say it's quite the opposite actually."

And I knew that was true. 

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