~Zion Galaxia Mall~
"Begum Saheba and my dear Baccha, you guys shop for yourselves." Chacha gives Chachi a side-eye, gulping dramatically.
"I got an urgent call; there's a problem in my office. It'll take a little time to solve the matter. Give me a ring when you both are done." He chuckles nervously.
"Anwar sahab! You always do this! No, you are staying with us today!" Chachi blurts out in anger, sulking like a kid.
"Begum, I know, but it's urgent; don't worry, next weekend I'll surely, definitely, ultimately, and so lovingly stay with you the entire day."
He coaxes out.
"Are you going to keep your word?" Chachi sulks further.
"Yes, Maharani!”
(yes, my queen)
Chacha pinches her cheek and stops his car in front of the mall entrance.
"Haaye, Allah, Bacchi hai yaha!"
(Allah! We have Alishbah with us here!) Chachi blushes, and I stifle a chuckle, playing cool.
"Are aisa kya krdiya maine?” Chacha teases her further.
"Now, have fun, you two."
He clears his throat and leaves, ensuring we both enter the mall.
After a hectic shopping spree,
Chachi looks around as if she is searching for something, and then she stops with an amused sigh.
I follow her gaze, and it's obvious where she is staring.
A classy, plain, black dual-tone sling handbag with gold-colored handles.
Chachi strides inside the store, dragging me along with her.
There's no doubt that Chachi is leaving that store without purchasing that handbag.
We already passed two more shops, with four handbags, Chachi bought and two backpacks for me.
Just then, a kid comes running and bumps into me.
My body loses its balance, and before I can catch myself, I'm already on the floor with a thud.
The shopping bags flew out of my hand, grabbing everyone’s attention. Heat flares in my neck.
The coldness of the floor seeps into my skin, and I watch the kid storming off yelling, "Sorry.”
He is just running through the mall, causing mischief.
Someone snickers, and among all the other chuckles, I recognize it within a second.
I lift my head, holding my breath out of humiliation as I immediately spot him, at a little distance, guffawing at me.
My teeth grit harder, and I narrow my eyes at him as another surge of irritation grips me in its grasp.
The same tall man stands before me, his pink t-shirt stretched taut against his muscles.
His lips curve into a smirk as he stares down at me.
The woman beside him nudges her elbow to his side, gesturing at me, and he nods.
She stares sternly at him, and the smirk wipes off his face.
She chuckles nervously before reaching for my hand, and I flush with deep embarrassment, watching her face.
She pulls me up, and I dust my dress.
She isn't wearing any makeup, but her face reflects the Noor(light) like the first dawn of morning.
Her round, grey-colored eyes and long lashes dominate her beautiful face, and her full lips curve into a wide smile.
He snorts again, and my head snaps to him.
"What in the world is so funny to you, sir?"
I roll my eyes at him.
"Your whole existence is a joke."
"Excuse me, Mister! Watch your mouth," I retort in anger as I fold my arms over my chest defensively.
He pulls out the mobile from his pocket, stares into it and then he lowers it down with an arrogant smug.
"Handsome as always."
The moment he admits it, a scoff rushes out of my mouth.
"You are not even near the word 'Handsome.'”
A flash of irritation sparks in his eyes before it transforms into a stoic stare.
"Yeah, like I'm even considering the mere words of a crazy witch, who swirls in the rain in the middle of the street, thinking that she is a drop-dead beauty." He studies me as if I'm some kind of pest. My fists resist the urge to connect with his jaw.
"Newsflash, Miss, you look like a terrifying witch whose one glance can turn a person's beautiful dreams into never-ending nightmares."
My control snaps at his words, and I step forward.
"How old are you, say?" The nonchalance in his stance is pricking me.
“Older than you, surely.” He replies, arching his eyebrow. The scrutiny in his gaze is sharper than any blade.
“Then stop acting like a sullen kid!"
I waggle my finger at him, fuming with anger.
I'm already planning to commit a murder at this point.
The atmosphere soon turned into quarrels, and we were both at each other's throats, arguing and shouting.
"Aww, what a beautiful couple," a woman says in awe.
"WE ARE NOT A COUPLE!" We both yell in unison, and the woman jolts, placing her hand on her chest.
She darts her gaze between us and shakes her head, with a teasing smile that stretches all across her round face.
"What a beautiful handbag."
"Your abaya!"
Two squeals clash with the tension between them, and when my eyes shift to them, I'm baffled.
Chachi and that woman are excitedly discussing each other's abayas and handbags.
Chachi holds out a handbag to her, and the woman's eyes sparkle in admiration.
Chachi grabs the sleeve of the woman's abaya, feeling the fabric between her fingers.
They are both fawning over each other's accessories and look like they are not with us, and they don't concern us.
"AMMI!" "CHACHI JAAN!" His voice clashes with mine, and we both glare at each other.
"SHUT UP!" They both shout in unison and I startle.
“You have already nagged about her enough for two days, and I’m really done with your senseless fight." The woman sighs, and I narrow my eyes at him.
Nagged about me what? And why is he here?
"I know a place where you can get imported items at half price."
"For real? What's the address!?"
Chachi perks up with excitement. Do they know each other? But how is it possible? Chachi doesn’t have anyone. No friends, no family.
Could it be someone from the orphanage she grew up in?
They step on the escalator, going down the floor.
"These ladies."
He murmurs, stepping in foot behind the woman.
He glances over his shoulder at me and clicks his tongue.
I kick the back of his knee, and he stumbles on the escalator but doesn't collapse.
I grin at him when he turns to me. The shopping bags in his hands dangle.
They settle on a huge wooden bench in the food court, still talking.
"Chachi Jaan, I'll just check some dresses there; do you want to come?" I don't want to interrupt them, but I'm getting bored. "And you, Auntie?"
I turn to her, and she pats my head.
A big smile tugs at my mouth at her touch, how warmth her presence is compared to the uneasy cold of this idiot lamppost.
"Take your time. Until then, I'll talk to Mrs. Mirza.”
Chachi winks at me, and I hush the urge to cringe at her.
"Oh, dear, you can call me Rabiya. No need to be so formal.”
The woman chuckles.
“At least you both won't be shouting at each other.” Chachi sighs and turns to the woman.
How strange that she brushed it off like she witnesses it every day.
"Okay, then… I'll be calling you once I'm finished."
They head towards the food court, and I swivel back to the escalator.
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