By the time I reached home, the sky had melted into a pale indigo. The house smelled like cardamom and dinner, and warmth hummed through the walls.
"Assalamualaikum!" I called out, dropping my bag by the shoe rack.
"Walaikum assalam," came Amma's voice from the kitchen. "You're late again. Hungry?"
"A little. I'll freshen up first."
Papa peeked from behind his newspaper. "Everything okay at school?"
I gave a small nod and disappeared into my room, splashing cold water on my face and tying my hair into a quick braid. The mirror caught the faint pink on my cheeks — and I wasn't sure if it was from the walk… or something else entirely.
Before I could sit down, I heard the familiar, slightly dramatic call.
"Imannn… come here, beta."
Dadi.
I found her curled up like always on her floral bedspread, a shawl around her shoulders, and her silver hair tied into a loose bun. Her room smelled of rose water and her favorite balm. The curtains danced lazily in the window's breeze.
"Yes, Dadi?"
She looked at me, then lifted a brow. "Hafiz came by today. To meet you."
My breath hitched slightly. Here it comes.
"You were late," she added, folding her hands. "Were you… with Ahad?"
My gaze dropped to the edge of her bed. I nodded slowly.
Her silence lasted too long. When I looked up, her smile had curled into one of her teasing smirks.
"Hmmm… that boy is still the same," she said, voice warm with mischief. "Do you remember when you were five, and that older boy from next door snatched your pink elephant toy?"
I blinked. "Vaguely."
"Ahad beat him up."
I stared.
"Right there in the middle of the park," she went on, chuckling. "He was what… six and a half? Fighting like he was guarding a kingdom."
"Dadi!" I gasped, a little horrified, a little amused.
"Possessive little thing," she added. "Even then. He used to glare at any kid who made you cry. And now… well, some things never change."
"Dadi, please—"
But she wasn't done.
"I saw the way he looked at you last Eid, during chai. Like he was ready to declare war on any boy who so much as complimented your bangles."
"Okay that's enough!" I half-laughed, half-groaned, burying my face in her quilt.
Dadi just patted my head lovingly. "You're too smart not to know what's right in front of you."
"I'm going to my room!" I declared, escaping before she could say more.
She laughed behind me. "Just don't act surprised when you find butterflies in your stomach, my jaan!"
I shut the door and leaned against it, covering my face. I could still feel the way he'd looked at me in the hall. His apology. That small glance back.
Ugh.
Why was he suddenly so hard to ignore?
I picked up the book again — The Letter of 1857,the bold golden letters reflected back . Its dusty pages held secrets, but my mind kept drifting back to him.
And right on cue — my phone buzzed.
Ahad calling.
Of course.
"Hello?" I answered, trying to sound annoyed.
"Did you read it?"
His voice. Slightly lazy. Teasing.
"I was about to. You just interrupted me."
"Good. Then my timing is perfect."
"You're insufferable, you know that?"
"And you're predictable. Bet you were thinking about me instead of that book."
I froze. "I was not!"
"Liar," he smirked. I could hear it through the phone.
My silence only made him chuckle. That low, irritating, heart-twisting chuckle.
"Anyway," he said, "don't stay up too late reading. You'll get lost in it."
"That's kind of the point," I muttered.
"Goodnight, Miss Curiosity."
"Goodnight, Mr. Arrogant."
I hung up before he could throw another taunt.
And finally… finally, I opened the book.
The Letter of 1857.The Golden Carved Letters
The pages whispered as they turned, ink curling like vines. But in the back of my mind, Ahad's voice still lingered — and somewhere in my chest, the butterflies had decided to stay.