She never imagined that life could suddenly become so beautiful. Arsalan took her hand gently, pressing it to his lips, his touch sending a warm shiver down her spine.
"Did you enjoy today?" he asked, his voice tender and filled with genuine curiosity.
"Enjoy?" Sahira's smile deepened, her eyes sparkling with unspoken joy. "This day has become the most memorable of my life because you were with me, Arsalan. And today... we even found Kitty. I'll cherish this day forever."
Her face radiated happiness, a glow that needed no words to express the depth of her contentment.
Arsalan, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her joy, reached out and gently removed her hijab. Her long, silky hair cascaded down, a waterfall of ebony strands framing her face before spilling over his. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the sweet, familiar scent that was uniquely hers, letting it fill his senses. Sahira's presence had always stirred something deep within him, something he had never fully understood until now. For someone who had struggled to grasp emotions, he found himself instinctively tuned into hers. When Sahira was happy, the world felt right. When she wasn't, it felt like something was missing. This feeling wasn't new—it had always been there, quietly growing stronger with time.
Sahira Hamid had been his first love, even before he knew what love truly was. For someone who once thought himself incapable of understanding emotions, the first real feeling he ever recognized was happiness. And this happiness, he realized, was inextricably tied to Sahira. It was a revelation that had dawned on him thirteen years ago, though he hadn't fully grasped it at the time.
Thirteen years ago, he had fallen for Sahira Hamid.
---
Arsalan had traveled to Bangladesh with his father to visit his uncle. His uncle had fallen in love with a Bangladeshi woman and married her, a decision that had caused a rift with Arsalan's grandfather, who disapproved and subsequently disowned him.
Abdul Hamid had settled in Bangladesh with his wife, far from the family that had rejected their union.
Abrar Reza Ansari had come to Bangladesh for a seminar, and Arsalan had accompanied him. At the time, Arsalan was just twelve, still grappling with the complexities of the world. After the seminar, his father decided to visit his estranged younger brother, a visit that would change Arsalan's life.
Abrar had always kept Arsalan close, almost protective, as if understanding that his son needed something more than what others did. Because of Arsalan's condition, Abrar often took him to new places, introducing him to new faces, hoping to help Arsalan connect with the world in ways he couldn't on his own. He wanted Arsalan to learn how to understand and experience emotions.
Even at the young age of twelve, Arsalan carried himself with a quiet dignity. Despite his tender years, there was a magnetic presence about him, a silent strength that made people pause and take notice.
Abdul Hamid welcomed his older brother and nephew with an enthusiasm that bordered on exhilaration. Seeing his elder brother again seemed to fill a void within him, a void that had lingered since his separation from the family. He embraced Abrar tightly, and then pulled Arsalan into a warm hug, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.
At that age, Arsalan had already learned how to respond appropriately in different situations. He returned his uncle's embrace with a polite smile, his movements deliberate, his expression measured.
They all settled into the living room, where Abdul Hamid and Abrar Reza soon became engrossed in conversation, the years of separation melting away as they spoke. Arsalan, ever the observer, quietly took in the room's surroundings. The space was beautifully decorated, filled with little details that spoke of care and warmth. On one wall, a small shelf held a collection of Islamic books, their spines facing out neatly. The bottom shelf was cluttered with a few toys, well-loved and slightly worn.
On another wall hung a delicate, hand-embroidered painting of a village scene, stitched with patience and artistry.
As Arsalan's gaze roamed the room, he felt a subtle prickling at the back of his neck—a sensation of being watched. When he turned his head toward the door, he caught a glimpse of movement, a small figure darting behind the door frame.
Arsalan's eyes lingered on the doorway, curiosity piqued. A few moments later, the figure peeked out again, and this time, their eyes met.
It was a small girl, her long hair neatly braided into two plaits, each adorned with colorful hair clips that sparkled even in the dim light.
The instant she realized she had been caught, her eyes widened, and she disappeared behind the door as if trying to escape the embarrassment of being discovered.
But her curiosity won over her shyness. Two minutes later, she cautiously stepped into the room, her movements tentative but determined.
Abdul Hamid noticed her entrance, his face softening as he beckoned her closer. "Come, Sahira," he said, his voice gentle with affection. He placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her forward with pride. "This is my daughter, Sahira. She's been ready since morning to meet our guests. Every time she heard the sound of a car, she'd run to the door to see if her 'Jethu' had arrived."
He glanced at his daughter with love-filled eyes, his pride unmistakable.
Abrar Reza's smile broadened as he looked at the little girl. "Assalamualaikum, Jethu," Sahira greeted in a sweet, melodic voice. "I'm Sahira. I'm seven years old. Welcome to my house." She spoke in English, her words clear and precise, eager to impress her uncle and showcase the stars she had earned from her English teacher.
"Walaikum assalam… MashAllah, what a lovely girl we have here," Abrar praised, his voice warm and sincere. However, a flicker of disappointment crossed Sahira's face—she had hoped for praise in English. But the fleeting disappointment disappeared when her uncle handed her a bunch of chocolates. She accepted them eagerly, her face lighting up as she unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth.
"Arsalan, meet your little sister," Abrar Reza said, nodding toward his son.
Arsalan's gaze softened as he looked at Sahira, who beamed at him, her earlier shyness completely forgotten.
"And Sahira, this is my son, Arsalan. He's your cousin, your big brother," Abrar Reza introduced, his tone gentle.
"Big brother?" Sahira's eyes widened with excitement as she looked up at Arsalan.
"Yes, your big brother," Abrar confirmed, chuckling softly at her enthusiasm. "Arsalan, meet your little sister."
"Hello! I'm Arsalan. Nice to meet you," Arsalan said, a genuine smile curving his lips.
"Hello, Arsalan bhai. I'm Sahira. I'm seven years old, and I go to school every day," she announced proudly, her small chest puffing up with pride.
Arsalan could tell that this little girl loved to talk. There was a sparkle in her eyes, a vibrancy that was contagious. As she chatted on, Arsalan listened quietly, his expression one of patient amusement. Suddenly, something seemed to click in her mind, and without warning, she dashed out of the room.
Arsalan watched her leave, a small smile playing on his lips. Two minutes later, she returned, this time leading a tiny girl by the hand, her steps careful as she guided her younger companion.
"Baba, Johra woke up too," Sahira announced, her voice filled with the importance of her role as the elder sister. Johra, a four-year-old with wide, curious eyes, clung to Sahira's finger as she stepped into the room, her gaze flickering around as if trying to make sense of the unfamiliar faces.
"Johra, look who's here at our house... Jethu and Arsalan bhai have come to visit us," Sahira said, her voice filled with excitement as she knelt down to be at eye level with her sister.
"Say assalamualaikum to Jethu," she urged gently, her tone softening for her younger sister.
Johra hesitated for a moment, then looked up at Abrar Reza, her tiny voice barely a whisper as she said, "Assalamualaikum, Jethu."
Her voice, though soft, was sweet, like the first notes of a melody.
"Now, say salaam to Arsalan bhai," Sahira instructed, her own voice a touch louder, encouraging.
Little Johra repeated the greeting, her eyes wide as she took in Arsalan's presence. Arsalan smiled, his heart warming at the sight of the two sisters.
"Cute baby," Arsalan said, his voice soft with affection. Sahira grinned, her smile wide and proud, as if the compliment had been directed at her.
"Yes, my sister is very cute. Do you know, I chose her name, Johra? It means 'beautiful and intelligent.' Isn't it a beautiful name?" Sahira asked, her eyes sparkling with the pride of a name-giver.
"That's a beautiful name," Arsalan agreed, nodding sincerely.
Sahira's smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "And how do you like my name?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation.
"Your name is also very beautiful," Arsalan replied,
his tone warm.
Unlike Sahira, Johra remained quiet, content to sit in her father's lap, observing the scene with wide, watchful eyes. Meanwhile, Sahira seemed to have already claimed Arsalan as her new friend. The bond between them was forming quickly, effortlessly, as if they had known each other for years rather than minutes.
Without another word, Sahira grabbed Arsalan's hand and tugged him toward her room, her excitement palpable.
Once inside, she quickly pulled out her tiny kitchen set, spreading it out on the floor before him. Arsalan sat down, his movements calm and deliberate, watching her with a faint smile. This little girl was a bundle of energy, her enthusiasm infectious.
"Let's play house!" Sahira declared, her eyes shining with excitement.
"Play house?" Arsalan echoed, genuinely intrigued. He had participated in many games throughout his life, but this one was new to him. Sahira seemed to be an expert, though, speaking in a rapid mix of English and Hindi, with the occasional Bengali word thrown in for good measure. It was clear she had invented her own language, a unique blend that only she seemed to understand.
Sahira paused, then smacked her forehead with her small hand, a bit too hard, wincing in pain.
Arsalan couldn't help but chuckle softly, his amusement growing as he watched her. She quickly recovered, her expression turning serious as she spoke with authority.
"You don't know how to play house?" she asked, her tone a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Everyone knows how to play house!"
Arsalan shook his head, his expression sincere. "But I don't."
Sahira's eyes widened in disbelief. "Okay, I'll teach you," she said, as if bestowing upon him a great responsibility. "So, listen up. In this game, you'll be my husband, and I'll be your wife. We'll have children too. You'll go to the market like Baba and bring home food. I'll cook it. Got it?"
Arsalan nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Our children... where are they?"
Sahira looked around the room, her brows furrowing in thought before she jumped up and grabbed two dolls from a nearby shelf.
"These are our children," she said, her voice solemn as she placed the dolls carefully on the floor. "Now, you go to the market and buy vegetables," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Arsalan looked at her, then at the dolls, before asking, "Vegetables? What kind? And I don't even know the way to the market."
Sahira let out an exasperated sigh and smacked her forehead again, though this time, she was more gentle. "Oh, you just have to pretend to go to the market. Why are you so silly?" she asked, her voice tinged with impatience.
"Sorry... I've never played this game before, so..." Arsalan trailed off, his tone apologetic.
"It's okay. Just play it right," Sahira said, her tone softening slightly as she noticed his sincerity.
"Which vegetables should I buy? At least tell me that first," Arsalan asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the complexity of this game.
Sahira tilted her head, considering. "Any vegetables, but not bitter gourd. And don't forget to bring chocolates," she added as if it were the most important part of the game.
Arsalan nodded, and with a small smile, he pretended to head to the market, walking to the door and then back again.
"Did you bring the groceries?" Sahira asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Yes," Arsalan replied, handing her an imaginary bag.
Sahira took the invisible groceries with a satisfied nod and began taking out the pretend vegetables, her small hands miming the actions with practiced ease.
Then she pulled out a small pot from her mini kitchen set and placed it on a tiny stove. She moved with such seriousness that Arsalan couldn't help but admire her dedication.
"What are you doing now?" Arsalan asked, genuinely curious.
"I'm cooking. What's your favorite dish?" Sahira asked as she pretended to stir the pot.
"Lasagne alla Bolognese," Arsalan replied, mentioning his favorite Italian dish.
Sahira's brow furrowed, her lips pursing in concentration. "What's Lasa aga bolla?" she asked, her pronunciation adorably mangled.
"It's a delicious Italian dish," Arsalan explained, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I don't know how to make that," Sahira admitted, her tone serious. "I'll cook dal bhat (rice and lentil) for you instead."
Arsalan had never heard of dal bhat before, but he nodded, his curiosity piqued. "That's fine."
Sahira nodded back, satisfied with his response, and returned to her pretend cooking with renewed energy. After a few minutes, she placed an empty plate in front of him.
"Here, eat your food," she instructed, her tone as serious as if she were serving a real meal.
Arsalan looked at the empty plate, then back at Sahira. "What should I eat?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.
"Pretend to eat!" Sahira exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief that he still didn't get it.
"Oh, right..." Arsalan said, suppressing a chuckle as he pretended to eat the imaginary food.
"How is it?" Sahira asked, her voice eager for approval.
"Delicious," Arsalan replied, his tone warm and sincere.
Sahira beamed with pride at his compliment, her small chest puffing up with satisfaction. She then turned her attention to the dolls, feeding them with the same care and attention she had shown to Arsalan.
Afterward, she handed the dolls to Arsalan, her expression serious. "Take them to school," she instructed. "They've been very naughty today. They don't want to go to school, and they refuse to do their homework."
Arsalan smiled softly, realizing that Sahira was probably repeating the very words her mother often said to her.
"She's funny," Arsalan muttered to himself in Italian, his smile widening as he watched her fuss over the dolls. But Sahira was too busy scolding her 'children' to notice.
After what felt like an eternity, the 'playing house' game finally came to an end, and Arsalan sighed in relief. Sahira's energy was boundless, and he couldn't help but admire her enthusiasm. Just then, Jannat entered the room, carrying a tray of snacks. Both children eagerly reached for the treats, their earlier game quickly forgotten.
As they ate, Arsalan noticed how warmly Sahira's mother treated him, her every gesture filled with affection. But something else caught his attention—she hadn't come out to meet his father. This intrigued him, and his mind began to whirl with curiosity.
Jannat noticed him staring at her and smiled gently, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "What's the matter, dear? Is there something you want to say?" she asked, her voice gentle as she stroked his hair.
"Aunty, why haven't you met Baba even once?" Arsalan asked, his voice tinged with the innocent curiosity of a child.
Jannat's smile deepened, her expression understanding. "Son, Allah has commanded all Muslim women to maintain hijab. Your Baba is not my mehram, so I must observe hijab in front of him. That's why I can't go in front of him," she explained, her tone patient as she gently ran her fingers through his hair.
Arsalan nodded slowly, the explanation making sense to him. Yet, as Jannat spoke, he couldn't help but think of his own mother, Eliana, who had passed away when he was just six years old.
"Take care, and if you need anything, just let me know," Jannat said, giving his hair one final affectionate ruffle before leaving the room.
After they finished eating, Sahira suddenly appeared before Arsalan with a Rubik's cube in her hands, her expression determined. "Do you know, Sara's big brother can solve this in under two minutes?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of pride and challenge. "He said he'll teach me too, and then I'll be able to solve it in two minutes as well," she added, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Can you solve it?" she asked, thrusting the Rubik's cube toward him, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Arsalan glanced at the Rubik's cube, then back at Sahira. He nodded slightly, his expression calm.
"Then show me," Sahira demanded, her voice taking on a bossy tone as she crossed her arms.
Without a word, Arsalan took the Rubik's cube from her hands and began twisting and turning it with practiced ease. Within 25 seconds, the puzzle was solved. Sahira's eyes widened in astonishment, her mouth falling open in disbelief.
"How did you do that? You solved it in a flash!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of awe and excitement.
"Should I do it again?" Arsalan asked, his voice teasing as he prepared to scramble the cube once more.
"Yes! Do it again!" Sahira practically shouted, bouncing on the balls of her feet with anticipation.
Arsalan obliged, scrambling the Rubik's cube before quickly solving it again, his movements smooth and confident.
"Wow... you're a genius!" Sahira declared, her
excitement bubbling over as she jumped up and down.
"Teach me how you did that?" she asked, her voice hopeful as she looked up at him with wide, expectant eyes.
Arsalan nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he began teaching her the steps. Sahira listened intently at first, her brow furrowed in concentration. But after a few minutes, the complexity of the puzzle began to wear on her, and she let out a frustrated sigh.
"Forget this... let's play something else," she said, her tone dismissive as she abandoned the Rubik's cube.
Just then, Jannat walked into the room, her expression stern but not unkind. "You've played enough... now it's time to do your homework, or your teacher will scold you again," she said, her tone firm.
Sahira's face fell, and she pouted, her earlier enthusiasm draining away. "But I don't want to do homework now... I want to play more with Arsalan," she protested, her voice small and plaintive.
Jannat's expression softened, but she remained resolute. "No... finish your homework first, then you can play," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Sahira sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she reluctantly pulled out her school bag.
Arsalan, seeing her disappointment, offered a small smile. "You do your homework first, then we'll play," he said, his voice gentle.
Sahira pouted but nodded, her fingers fumbling with the zipper of her bag as she pulled out her books.
She spread her books on the small table, the surface quickly becoming cluttered with colorful pencils, erasers, and a few crumpled papers. She focused on her math homework, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the problems. After a few minutes of struggling, she scratched her head in frustration, feeling utterly defeated.
"Math is the worst subject! Why are numbers so hard?" she finally blurted out, her voice filled with exasperation.
Arsalan, who had been quietly observing her struggle, leaned in closer. "It's not hard at all. It's actually quite easy," he said, glancing at her math questions with a practiced eye.
Sahira looked up at him, her expression skeptical. "No, it's really hard."
Arsalan smiled softly. "Okay, tell me where you're having trouble."
Sahira sighed, pointing to the problem in her notebook. "I can't add these big numbers. It feels like they're against me!"
Arsalan leaned over, examining her work. Then, with a steady hand, he began solving the problem, his pencil moving smoothly across the paper.
"They're just numbers, Sahira. They're not against you. See, if you add these two numbers first, the rest becomes easier," he explained, his voice calm and reassuring.
Sahira watched in amazement as the difficult problem was solved before her eyes, her earlier frustration melting away.
"Wow, you're like a human calculator!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with admiration. She couldn't help but be impressed by how effortlessly he solved the math problems.
Arsalan shrugged, his expression modest. "It's just math. Nothing special."
Sahira tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Are you only good at math, or are you good at other subjects too?" She suddenly got up and dashed out of the room, returning a few minutes later with an encyclopedia clutched in her hands. It was clear she was determined to test Arsalan fully. To her, this was another game, where she was the teacher, and Arsalan was the student.
"Let's see how smart you really are!" she challenged, a grin spreading across her face as she prepared to question him.
"What's the capital of Brazil?" she asked, her tone playful yet serious.
Without missing a beat, Arsalan answered, "Brasília."
Sahira's eyes widened with delight. "How many bones are in the human body?"
"206," Arsalan replied confidently.
"What's the largest planet in our solar system?"
"Jupiter."
Sahira's mouth fell open in shock, her eyes shining with admiration.
"You're really a genius! I'm going to introduce you to all my friends!" she declared proudly, her voice filled with excitement.
Before Arsalan could respond, Sahira grabbed his hand and dragged him to her father, her steps quick and purposeful. She knew her mother wouldn't let her go outside without finishing her homework, but she was sure her father would allow it.
"Baba, can I go play outside with Arsalan?" she asked, her voice filled with hope.
Abdul Hamid looked down at his daughter, a smile tugging at his lips. He nodded, giving her the permission she sought. "Go ahead, but don't wander too far," he said, his tone gentle.
Without wasting a second, Sahira beamed with joy and rushed outside with Arsalan in tow, her laughter echoing through the hallways.
If her mother found out, she'd be in big trouble. But for now, all that mattered was the thrill of a new adventure with her new friend.
---