Izzat An-Nisa (Pakistani Short Stories)

Rehbar Part 2 🌺

Riyaz went back to the coffee shop on Tuesday. She wasn't there. And then again on Wednesday, and she still wasn't there. He decided to give up and didn't go on Thursday. But then, he was running late on Friday morning and he needed caffeine desperately and ended up at the Baklava House with no intention of running into Namal.

And that's when he saw her, her hair in a loose braid, a few strand framing her face as she wiped down the tables, the lights in the store still on as it was relatively dark outside. As he moved closer to the line, he grinned, finally locking eyes with her as she raised herself up, a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

"I believe I'm the luckiest man alive to be able to start my day by seeing such a pretty girl." He spoke, sugar lacing his tone, his honeyed voice the perfect turn on and even Namal couldn't deny that.

She made a show of looking around her and then pointed a finger at herself, eyes comically wide.

Riyaz wanted to step closer to her, but the line was moving. "Of course I mean you."

Namal nodded as if surprised. "Wow. I thought you meant someone else considering my baba hasn't had a single call in days."

Riyaz blinked, her wit and sincerity surprising him. "Wait, did you actually give me your dad's number?"

She moved closer to him and he could smell the vanilla on her. Up close, she was a fever dream come true. Long lashes and thick brows, expressive eyes, and heart shaped lips bitten red.

"Why would I give you a wrong number? If you're genuinely interested in me, I don't mind you asking for my hand."

Riyaz had been flirted with countless times. He had been opposite several beautiful women. Yet words were lost as he blinked trying to say something but couldn't as she tilted her head back and laughed.

"Sweetheart, don't play with fire. If I ever see you trying to hit on me without any clear intention of marrying me, I'll kick your ass and make sure you never forget who kicked it."

This time, Riyaz felt his skin heat up, the words so rude but so fucking sexy falling from her lips. Somehow, his own came to his mind. "You'd marry a stranger? Let him come into your house and agree to marriage with a guy you barely know? Maybe we should talk first."

Namal's fierce expression fell. By this time, the line had gone around him and they stood in the middle of the shop, in their own little sphere.

"What's your name?"

He smirked, knowing he'd wooed her. "Riyaz."

Namal sighed. "Riyaz. I've worked desperately hard to build up my honor and my pride. If I am to be with a man, he will respect me enough to protect my honor. I want a husband. Not a fucking boyfriend. I want someone who is willing to take responsibility of me, to take care of me and for me to have the same sort of relationship with him. So don't insult me by trying to flirt with me or entice me to get into a haram relationship with you."

He opened his mouth, this sort of unsettling feeling overcoming him. "I-!"

Namal turned around. "I don't want to hear it. Don't cross my path. I mean it. If you want to be an honorable, real man instead of a fucking prick, then you have my baba's number. Although, I can't promise we won't say no considering you suck ass at first impressions."

"How do you know we won't fall in love along the way? We could get to know each-!"

Namal turned around, her eyes angry. "The only man I plan on loving is my husband. And by the looks of it, that'll never be someone like you."

Riyaz was an even-tempered man, but his anger flared, as he moved forward and grabbed her arm. "How can you say that when you don't know me?"

They were close: too close. The customers were looking at them and Namal could see that. "Look." She whispered and he felt drunk on her. He turned his head. "You've made me the center of attraction already. How can I like and trust a man who has no respect for me or any woman?"