My phone buzzed again on the bedside table, breaking the spell of my thoughts. I picked up my phone, unlocking it to see Zayn’s name flashing on the screen. A message, as usual, brief and to the point.
Zayn: “We need to discuss tomorrow’s pitch. Some updates came in from the client.”
I sighed, rubbing my temple. Work had always been my refuge a world I could control, a constant amidst chaos. But lately, even that seemed to blur, thanks to her.
I typed back quickly: “Email me the details. I’ll review them in the morning.”
No sooner had I hit send than my phone buzzed again.
Zayn: “It’s important. Can we do a quick call? Five minutes.”
“Of course,” I muttered under my breath.
Zayn never called unless it was something significant.
I dialed him back, keeping my tone professional. “Yes?”
-----
As soon as I ended the call with Zayn, a thought struck me like a bolt out of the blue.
Her Instagram.
I grabbed my phone again, my fingers hovering over the search bar. I wasn’t even sure if she had an account, but a part of me was itching to find out.
This wasn’t like me I didn’t waste time on social media or indulging in people’s lives. But with her...
Something was different.
Typing her name felt oddly intimate, as though I was stepping into uncharted territory. I hit “search,” and after scrolling past a few irrelevant profiles, there it was.
@ Izel.vibes
{REB: koi acc nhi h iss naam ki id se koi bana raha h toh bna lo hehe}
Her profile picture wasn’t some clichéd selfie or filtered glamour shot. It was simple candid of her gazing out at the sea, draped in a black burka. Her face wasn’t visible, but her eyes those eyes spoke louder than anything else. Even without seeing her features, I felt something stir inside me, something I couldn’t quite name, her eyes seemed to pierce through the lens. I couldn’t explain why, but I felt like she was looking straight into my soul.
I lingered on that picture, my thumb frozen on the screen, my mind racing. The caption was almost an afterthought:
“In the quiet, we find clarity.”
The words seemed to linger in the air, heavy with meaning I couldn’t quite grasp.
I clicked on it, my thumb hovering over the “Follow” button for a split second before I thought better of it. No, I wasn’t about to make it that obvious. Instead, I unfollowed her, trying to erase the trace of my curiosity. But that only made it worse. I couldn’t stop myself. I scrolled down, my curiosity deepening with every swipe. Her feed was an eclectic mix of posts some aesthetic shots of books and coffee, a few landscapes, and, sparingly, pictures of her in a burka.
The most intriguing part of her feed was her collection of designed dresses. It was like another world altogether colorful, bold, and impossibly intricate. The way she showcased them, draped over mannequins or carefully arranged in the soft glow of studio lighting, revealed a side of her that felt... different.
Without even realizing it, my fingers kept scrolling further.
One post, in particular, grabbed my attention a picture ofher. It was taken the day we met at the airport. As I swiped through the photos, I pieced together the story: she was returning from London to India, while I was on my way back from Russia.
One picture caught me off guard. I zoomed in on her eyes. They were captivating, holding a thousand unspoken emotions. Her gaze spoke of loneliness and love, a mix of being cherished yet worn down. The faint shadows under her eyes hinted at late nights and tireless work a workaholic’s telltale sign.
Her eyes were a world of their own, holding so much emotion it was impossible to put into words. And yet, they spoke volumes, just for me..............
I found myself lost in those eyes, and before I knew it, the memories came rushing back.
Flashbacks of that day played in my mind like a movie on repeat......
FLASHBACK (start)
The hum of the plane’s engine was a constant buzz in the background as I settled into my seat, the heat of Mumbai still lingering on my skin. I was looking forward to a few hours of quiet before landing in Delhi. Glancing to my right, I noticed a girl seated beside me.
She had been wearing an oversized hoodie that seemed to swallow her whole and a black mask that covered most of her face. Only her eyes were visible, and even then, they were enough to make an impression.
For a moment, I hesitated, unsure of what to make of the situation.
As we adjusted ourselves, she made an attempt to strike up a conversation. Honestly, I was caught off guard by her eyes. There was something magnetic about her gaze, but I wasn’t about to let her know that.
Instead, I chose to stay cool, focusing on the snacks I had piled beside me. I shoved another handful into my mouth, making a series of weird noises that made me cringe internally.
Kya kar raha hoon?(What am I doing?) I thought, wondering if I could at least reply in my usual cold manner instead of acting like some overeager child. But nope, I chose to wallow in my awkwardness.
Then, the plane hit turbulence, and my stomach did a flip. I glanced at her, and before I could even think, my mouth moved.
"Pagal ladki, mere khane mein nazar kyun rakhi hai?" (Crazy girl, why are you eyeing my food?) I shot at her, half-teasing, half-serious.
She smirked, unfazed.“Why do you act as though you’re starving yourself?”
Her tone was playful, but there was a sharpness to it that caught me off guard.
I quickly shot back, ”Terse mtlb udhar dekh." (Just look over there.)
I pointed dramatically out the window, hoping to distract her from my embarrassing munching.
Later, she tried to go to the restroom. I was sprawled across my seat, blissfully unaware of her struggle. The turbulence didn’t last long, and as it cleared, I cracked one eye open just in time to see her attempting to sneak past me.
As she made her way to the washroom, I said,
“Not so fast!” groggily, but with a mischievous edge. Without thinking, I snatched her window seat and plopped into it, a smug grin spreading across my face. When she returned and saw me sitting in her seat, she asked,
“What the... mere seat pe kya kar rahe ho tum?” (What the... what are you doing on my seat?)
I replied with a sarcastic smile,
“Tum jo itne aana jana karte rahoge, mera neend haram kar ke, toh socha main tumhe apni seat do, taaki takleef kam ho.” (Since you keep coming and going, disturbing my sleep, I thought I’d give you my seat to make things easier.)
She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Seriously? You think you can just take my seat?”
I tilted my head, a playful glint in my eye.
“I didn’t see your name on it.”
She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.
“Chup chap, wapis seat pe aao warna...” (Shut up and get back to your seat, or else...)
I raised an eyebrow, amused by her irritation.
“Warna kya? Tum mujhe maarogi?” (Or what? Are you going to punch me?)
Her expression flickered between annoyance and humor.
“Maybe I will.”
“Bring it on,” I challenged, enjoying the banter.
“Seriously, do you have to act like such a child?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head as if scolding me.
“Impossible? Nah, just a little creative with seating arrangements,” I replied, leaning back in her seat with exaggerated confidence.
“Creative, huh? More like annoying,” she shot back, her glare softened by a playful smile. “If I’d known you were this stubborn, I might’ve chosen a different seat.”
“Too late now,” I grinned, refusing to budge.
-----
As I started to feel sleep creeping up on me, I searched for my pillow. That’s when I noticed it she had slipped it under her back. I quietly tried to pull it out, hoping not to disturb her. But just as the pillow began to slip free, she stirred, blinking sleepily. In my haste, I miscalculated, and the pillow ended up hovering right over her face.
“Uh-oh,” I thought, my eyes widening in realization. “Sorry!” I yanked it back quickly, but not before she gasped.
“What the...?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. “Are you trying to suffocate me?”
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“I swear, I didn’t mean to! It was a rescue mission gone wrong.”
I thought to myself,Irfaz, what the fuck are you even blabbing right now?
Without warning, she punched me in the arm again. My jaw stung from the hit, and I growled in pain.
“Ow,” I muttered, trying to compose myself. “Calm down! I was just supporting your neck.”
“Right, a pillow fight is the best way to support someone’s neck,” she said mock-seriously. “Tum marna cha rha the mujhe!”
“Hey, I was just trying to save my pillow,” I shot back, grinning. “Next time, I’ll be more careful... maybe.”
She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching her teeth in anger.
I laughed, ready for round two. “I’m not letting you steal my pillow.”
“That’s mine,” she claimed, holding onto it tightly.
“Miss your pillow? It’s right there,” I pointed to the pillow on her side where she was sitting. “This one’s mine, which you’re trying to claim for yourself.”
She looked over at the other pillow, her face turning a shade of red as she realized her mistake. Embarrassment flickered in her eyes.
“Uh... well,” she stammered, looking anywhere but at me. “I was... just testing you. Yeah, testing your reflexes.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. “Uh-huh, sure. Testing my reflexes by stealing my pillow.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small, embarrassed smile tugging at her lips under her mask.
“Okay, fine, maybe I got a little carried away.”
I laughed even harder. “Hey, I’m a multi-talented guy. Neck supporter and pillow assassin.”
“Assassin? More like a clumsy fool,” she shot back.
“Hey, I take pride in my ideas!” I protested. “Maybe we should start a new trend: extreme pillow rescue missions.”
“Dream on,” she scoffed. “I should start an NGO for victims of your brilliant ideas.”
I feigned horror. “Victims? I’m just making the world exciting!”
“You mean chaotic? Next, you’ll start a pillow dance party,” she replied.
I grinned. “Why not? ‘Pillow Dance Party: Join the Fluff Revolution!’”
“Mein zeher kha ke na marjau tumhare party mein ane se pehle” she said, rolling her eyes. (I’d rather die after eating poison thancoming to your party.)
-----
Before I could respond, the flight attendants stepped in.
“Is everything alright here?” one asked, trying not to laugh.
“he was about to kill me with a pillow!” she said, keeping a straight face.
The other attendant smiled. “Let’s keep the peace, folks.”
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