"Okay?!" I ask with a frown edged on my lips. "No sunflower or baby?"
"We both already know that."
"Well," I say quietly. "My Ayan won't say that. He would call me sunflower irrespective of whether I know or not," I finish, making air quotes.
...
We're interrupted when mom calls for me downstairs, saying that there's someone at the door. Swallowing the anger and hurt I feel because of Ayan, I walk downstairs to see a lady standing in the hall, her eyes taking in the room around her.
Her face is rounder with slicked cheekbones, her olive skin melding into it, and a sharp, feminine nose. She blinks at me, and her dark eyes are momentarily covered by her long eyelashes. Dressed in a tint coloured kurta, paired with blue denim jeans, she gives me a nervous smile that I anxiously return.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?..." I ask awkwardly, completely sure that I haven't met her in my life.
