14. The way to my heart

...

Katrina khan appeared at office next Sunday with a cup of coffee on her hand and a chest full of guilt.

Her last conversation with Salman weighed down her heart all weekend. Katrina she made the right decision by not letting a stranger learn their address, but she also realized she could have handled the situation with more grace. She was rude, unnecessarily, and she knew it. Tamara's constant reminders didn't help.

Katrina didn't always want to admit when she was wrong, but she knew that strength was in finding the courage to apologize when needed. So at the next working day, early morning, she grabbed his coffee order (which her cousin found out by some apt social media stalking) and appeared in front of him.

Salman looked up from the papers he was working on, his expression falling flat at her sight.

"I'm sorry," she murmured under her breath, placing the cup on his table. "I was out of line."

Even through her hesitance to look at him, and discomfort at the situation, Katrina noticed there was a tenderness in his expression. The aromatic coffee sat between them, it's steam seemingly melting off the tension.

Katrina left after that without another word. No more sentences were exchanged, but it seemed like it wasn't needed. Her apology was accepted.

He greeted her the next time he saw her, and the air between them had cleared out. It took Katrina by surprise. For someone who grew up in a house full of uptight people, and had to butt heads with egotistical men all her academic and professional career, his behavior was like a breath of fresh air. He was so easy going, and he took things so lightly. He let things be, just like that, and somehow ensured there was no awkwardness lingering.

Katrina's attention began veering towards the Sales department more than needed. She did not even have to make an effort to search for him - suddenly, Salman Bashir was in every corner her eyes went.

He passed by her desk during lunch everyday, he stumbled into her in the photocopy room, he held the door of the elevator for her as she exited the office for the day. He also knew everyone, and everyone knew him.

Literally.

He greeted the security guards with enthusiasm and also exchanged playful high-fives with the Managing Director in the midst of meetings. Salman caught a lot of attention from the young women in the office, but he spent time winking at the elders to make them feel loved. He was welcomed amongst the more popular guys, but was also received warmly by the socially awkward ones.

Katrina once turned to Tamara and asked, "Where does he find the time to keep up with all these people?" But she was also secretly impressed by his social skills, since she didn't possess much herself.

Salman spent the majority of his time with Zakariya Azad and Arafat Chowdhury from the IT department - guys Katrina would have least expected him to see him with.

She learned that he called them 'Freaks and Geeks.' The tall one with the glasses - Zakariya Azad - always retaliated against the nickname with, "do you have any idea how offensive it is to call someone a freak?"

To which, Salman turned his hands innocently and replied, "you said I couldn't use the N-word, you never said anything about the F-word."

Katrina sometimes watched them during lunch, when the departments took shifts at the dining table. Most days, the guys joked around about hacking Facebook ID's of the old executives who spent too much time on social media instead of working (Katrina silently disapproved, of course). Some days, they passed the hours joking about some hijabi YouTuber Salman wanted to set Arafat up with.

It was a lazy afternoon as Katrina peered at the boys at the end of the table. Their cleaned plates were still sitting in front of them, the room was emptying as they were the last batch to finish eating. Katrina knew she should be back behind her desk completing the design of the training program she was working on; but some days demanded a little time-off, at least that's what she tried to convince herself.

"This is not what I meant when I said I wanted girl-advice," Arafat fumed at his friends.

Both Zakariya and Salman were in stitches from laughter.

"She's beautiful, nice, and she'll bring you to the Deen," Salman retorted.

"Not funny, pretty boy," Arafat to him. "It's a miracle I haven't reported you to HR yet."

"You wouldn't, you love me," Salman winked at him, earning an eye roll. "Besides, so does the HR department. Apparently."

He looked over his shoulder and threw them a smile. The number of her colleagues present around the table laughed it off. But Katrina's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she whipped her head away from him. She felt his eyes linger on her for a moment before he turned away too. To get caught staring by the one guy she knew would never let it go. She should have never delayed work in the first place.

She gathered her things and left the scene, but Salman's presence in her life seemed to refuse to budge.

The more Katrina learned about him, the more terrible she felt for having those awful prejudices against him. Salman wasn't the guy she had painted in her head. Yes, he was overbearing, annoying and vain at times; but she was starting to realize she didn't completely mind his childish antics, boyish smile, and the tendency to utter whatever came to his mind.

Dahlia Ahmad let out a nervous breath.

The evening sky was embedded with a million stars, cloaking their backyard like a blanket. She was seated on one of the sofas on their porch, eyes on the stars and heart rattling with anxiety. The day was coming to an end, and her sister Lily was snuggled besides her.

A couple hours before dinner, her father, Murshid Ahmad, came to her room for a chat. Dahlia stepped out of the bathroom door when she found him waiting on her bed, examining the bouquet of soft pink roses sitting on her bedside table.

Her face slowly blanched at the sight as her heart rate kicked up ten notches, watching the slow unfolding of events that was now beyond her control. Murshid Ahmad picked the card resting on the side next and scrutinized Kaveh's name written on it with an impassive face.

"I see," that's all he said.

The next couple of hours went fairly uneventfully, so did dinner - except for the havoc that was wrecking Dahlia's chest. Her father did not utter a word regarding the flowers nor the card he had found, neither did he act oddly with her.

However, he requested a quick meeting with her in his reading room after dinner. Dahlia did not need to ask him what it was about. So as soon as she sighted him disappearing behind the door of that room, through the window connecting their porch and kitchen, Dahlia got up too.

She entered the cozy, carpeted room, the comforting scent of her father's perfume and the familiar sight of the rows of his books doing little to ease her tension. Dahlia took the chair facing her him.

He let out a sigh, "you know what's this about."

Dahlia nodded. "The flowers."

Murshid Khan was seated comfortably on his armchair - the place he used for practically everything; starting from getting his work done to hiding from the mother of his daughters. His left leg was over his right, and his warm brown eyes on her through his reading glasses.

He took off his spectacles and gave out another sigh. "The Fayyads have been our good neighbors for years. We have, in time, developed a strong friendship with them as well. Family and upbringing, along with education, though not everything, defines and shapes most of a person. The boy satisfies in all of those departments."

Murshid Ahmad lifted his eyes to meet his daughter's gaze. "His family and social status, education and caliber, matches yours in every sense. I will have no hesitations entrusting your hand in his."

Her heart was palpitating as she played with her fingers, refusing to meet her father's gaze, knowing full well in which direction the conversation was heading.

"However, this is not the way to do things," her father said. "If you're willing to form a bond with him, I will speak to his parents. I know they'll be more than happy to strengthen our relationship by forming a family tie as well."

"Nothing happened between us, Dad," Dahlia said earnestly, reaching out to hold his hand. "The extent of my interaction with him is what you saw today, the flowers he sent, and some conversations we exchanged during social gatherings. That's all, I give you my word."

And the letter he wrote, but that was truly all.

Murshid raised his other hand to envelope hers. "If that's what you say, I trust you. But if you do like the boy, and he likes you, I think a marriage is the best option here. Yes, our plan was to get Lily married before we thought of you, but I fear the fitnah in this scenario if we delay."

Dahlia took a moment to process what he was saying, and the plethora of feelings forming in her chest. A part of her could not believe how fast any of this was happening. This was too soon. But another part of her could not think of any good reason to postpone. After all, she could no longer deny this was what her heart wanted too.

"Okay," she breathed. Her father nodded in approval.

The nerves in her stomach were coiling tighter, and her heart was fluttering more rapidly than ever before. Dahlia was nervous, anxious and scared. But she was feeling those things in the best possible way. There was a chance she would be made a fool as Lily always claimed, or be hurt or worse; but Dahlia was starting to realize they were all risks she was willing to take - especially for Kaveh.

"I have a request though," she piped in. "I want some time to talk to him. You know, to get to know him. I know we're already well acquainted with each other, but I believe getting to know someone for marriage is very different. And I do not want to rush the process."

"That can be arranged." Murshid patted her hand fondly. "So I assume the flowers we found in the trashcan months ago was from him too?" He raised his eyebrows knowingly.

Heat formed in her cheeks at the memory of how vehemently she had claimed innocence. "Yes," she admitted.

"Your mother and I both assumed they belonged to one of you girls, but Lily was our primary guess."

Dahlia let out a chuckle at his words. "She's not going to take it kindly when she finds that out. She'll think you trust me more."

Her father neither affirmed nor denied the claim. He simply said, "which is why I need you to promise to keep this between us." His eyes sparkled playfully.

"Only if you promise to handle Mom," Dahlia retorted. "She'll not be too happy about the fact that the proposal will be led by the girl's side, and that I have added a request on top of it. You know how traditional-minded she is when it comes to these things."

"I'll handle your mother," Murshid said. "We have raised you girls to be self-sufficient, and we have always given you the freedom to make your own decisions; that includes the decision to choose your own husband. Junaina will come around."

Dahlia smiled at him gratefully, which he returned. She squeezed his hand affectionately before letting her hands drop, holding onto the sense of comfort and strength her father provided.