Meet-Cute

02. mehr

m e h r
HOSAIN

chapter two — ❛ He's too young  ❜
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YOU'D THINK SHE would be accustomed to wearing a salwar kameez, but what everyone fails to see is how constricted the upper body feels when wearing one. It will only be worse after having food. Mehr isn't the biggest fan of dawats. As much as she adores her mother's samosas or her karahis, she hated socialising with her extended family, even more so with her father's friends and colleagues.

But the day was too beautiful to ignore; one would say it was perfect for a family gathering. The rays of sunshine pierced through the large ceiling windows, entangling with the natural warmth that kitchen was already filled with. It was during these moments that Mehr truly basked in the atmosphere of being with her mother.

"Mehr, jaldi, the guests must be starving, and the dining table isn't ready yet."

"Ma, Ali could easily do it," she utters in a hushed tone before going back to plating the food on the correct dishes.

"He's too young—"

At that, Mehr whips her head around to face her mother, who was too busy getting little plates for the mithai. "Young? He is eighteen, for God's sake!"

"Don't use that tone with me. Today is very important for us. After all, your father could potentially be getting a new partner." Mehr knew this, of course, but it still did not make sense to her. The firm was led by meticulous people. She didn't think it needed another leader alongside her father's best friend.

"I never heard baba speak about his son. Why the sudden need to add him into the business as well?"

Mehr could vividly recall the last time he was mentioned was when her father excitedly explained how he had landed a great job in Singapore. Now that he is back, he landed yet another great job.

"You don't need to worry about that right now. Finish the task at hand."

And went back to work Mehr did. To think it's only been a week since the coffee disaster happened. Thankfully, she managed to go elsewhere to get them and be back just in time. She has yet to meet her mentor, but Verena has been helpful, and so far, she has not felt out of place.

Though, the curious glances and the furtive gestures weren't unnoticed. How could she expect her colleagues to not know who she was? It was to be expected. No matter how much her father reassured her, his threats could only do much. Privilege was what she possessed; she can't escape from it, no matter how hard she tried to fit in.

"Mehr, take these with you," her mother broke her trance by handing her a fresh dinner set. Blinking, she sighs and heads towards the dining room. The only problem was that to get there, and she would have to walk through the living room.

Flicking her dupatta over her shoulders, Mehr prepares herself for the awkward greetings. Peeking her head out from the arched kitchen door, she scans the area.

"Stop standing there. Everyone is getting hungry," her mother whisper-yells before dragging her to the dining room. Brushing past the men, with polite Salams and nods, she followed her mother to the dining area where her aunts and cousins brightly gin as soon as they see the two women enter the space.

"About time! We were getting worried that we won't be having any food.

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THREE HOURS. Three hours was all Mehr could handle for one day. She's never been sociable, especially for a long period of time. You could call her an introvert, but she simply doesn't like to waste energy or time. Instead, she opted to stay upstairs and read up on one of her assigned cases.

Recalling how watching her father do the exact same thing in his office during late hours, the ache in her heart eases. The dream she has always been seeking is nearly at the palm of her hand. All she needs was to make her parents proud, to hear the reassurance.

Mind focused on the logistic of the words; she allows the air to nip her rich skin. The emerald gems on her dupatta glimmered thanks to the afternoon sunlight. Mehr's fingertips graze the corner of the file, scrunching her eyebrows in pure concentration—so concentrated to the point she fails to realise the multiple times her name had being called.

Like a switch, her brain registers the callings, being awfully similar to her mother's voice. "Ah, fuck." Mehr could only curse under her breath before scrambling onto her feet.

Carefully, her slender fingers smoothens the ruffled silk fabric over her stomach as she stumbles around her bed, rushing towards the door. Mehr bit her lip, teeth sinking into the plump flesh as she mentally scolds herself for being too entranced with her case study.

Striding through the corridor at such speed, Mehr fails to detect the incoming figure. Eyes busy trained on the death traps that she called heels, she couldn't have possibly noticed how her path would be disturbed.

The familiarity of the sudden touch she felt gave her a sense of Deja Vu, the warmth seeping through her waist, the tightness, the developing knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Only now she registers how the hands holding her up envelop her sides with such ease—it all began to unravel in her head.

Honey met hazel.

The eyes staring down at Mehr are the same pair that she recently had been resenting, the same ones she desperately tried to forget about yet haunted her dreams.

"Why must we always meet like this?" She grumbles, steadying herself before attempting to inch away from the man. The twitch of his fingers was noticeable as they unwrap themselves from her torso.

"More like you should pay more attention to your surroundings." The smoothness of his tone bothers Mehr; it tingles her ears as she caught the slight curl of his lips as he assesses her from top to bottom.

She was not shy by any means. However, the way his eyes trail every inch of her body suddenly made her feel insecure.

"You know what, fuck yo—" Mehr pauses, raising her eyebrows in confusion before parting her lips once more. "Hold on a second. What are you even doing at my house?"

No response.

Just a small, cocky smile.

"You're now a stalker?"

Tilting his head to one side, he crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating his biceps all the while scoffing at her accusation."You think being a stalker is a job?"

"Have you also picked up a side quest to be an asshole?" With her squinted eyes, you'd think she looks like a child. One that likes to scrunch up their nose slightly at the littlest inconveniences, cheeks huffed as they breathe in. At that moment, Mehr was the epitome of it.

"No, but maybe I can now. Can you refer me?" The amusement dripping from his tongue creates a certain kind of aura, amplifying the strong scent of his cologne. It's as if his perfume incorporates confidence in its formula.

There is no reason for Mehr to feel uncomfortable. He may be a giant, his looming figure casting a shadow over her, but she remains poised at his calculating stare. The itch in her throat irked her, she wanted to curse him out, but it was not possible, not under her parent's roof.

"Will you just explain yourself before I get someone to kick you out?"

He took a step forward, stepping into her personal bubble once more. Mehr could've easily backed away. However, she refuses to show any weakness. "I don't think that'll be necessary."

"My baba would certainly agree with me," She counters with a scowl.

"Again, I beg to differ. Your baba needs me."

And that's when Mehr realises she royally fucked up.

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