Abs and I didn't stop at just an outing at House of Wrath, we had more fun outings after. We became companions we once were before but closer each day. Sometimes, we would spend a couple of hours at Ziferblat, Northern Quarter. Other times, we would hop on no. 50 Stagecoach ride to MediaCityUK for a morning stroll around Salford and back to the city centre.

Abs took time to forgive me of which he finally did and it wasn't that easy. But he was able to share his feelings and opinions with me including who he should place bet on for the next match.

Our next outing was a film night out at The Printworks building. We arrived Vue Cinema five minutes before the show time, purchased our tickets, ordered the snacks consisting of tasteless caramel popcorn (at least they were better than the ones at AMC Cinema) and fizzy drinks before entering the hall. We went for the empty seats in the middle of the hall before others occupied them.

Despite the film's duration of approximately three hours, I felt it was adequate. We left half an hour later, with an anticipation of an end credit worth waiting for but all we got was a roll out of the cast members for approximately five minutes. Me and Abs exchanged opinions, concocted theories of how to defeat Thanos and laughed at our own argument.

"We haven't done this for years," he declared. "Why did we discontinue?"

"Things changed, you and I. I was occupied with my studies and you were busy with your life and Bijou." I sighed. "Where do we eat? I'm famished."

He chuckled as we walked towards the bus stop by Piccadilly Gardens. "How about Al-Jazera? I'm craving for qabili palaw."

"Why not? Haven't been there for a while," I seconded.

We took no. 42 Stagecoach and alight at Wilmslow Road before crossing to the other side for Al-Jazera Restaurant. The shop was usually busy at this hour so we headed straight to its additional dining space on the upper floor for a quiet and private lunch.

The upper floor had only a couple of tables were occupied so we took a 2-seater table while the waiting staff handed us the menu. The Abs ordered qabili palaw as I settled down for half chicken al-faham (grilled) with rice.

"I never knew you'd eat that much," I remarked, after seeing the size of the dish inside the menu.

"I don't," he answered bluntly. "But I'd give exception to my national dish.

10 minutes later, the food arrived being served by a staffwho happened to be a former Hazarajat refugee like Abs. He looked much older than both of us with a medium size body frame, narrow eyes similar to Nick's, big nose and crooked teeth. They greeted each other and spoke a mixture of Dari and English. It was the first time ever after many years of friendship, that I actually heard Abs spoke of his mother tongue. Pleasantries like, "chi tor hasti" (how are you?) "khob astam, tashakor" (I'm fine, thanks), "jan man tu jura, ba khairi" and "sehat mandi" passed through their lips as they embraced each other. It somehow made me feel ashamed of myself because I don't usually practice speaking my own mother tongue even though I was fluent in it.

"You're that kid from Al-Safar, right?" the guy asked me in a thick Persian accent, reached his hand out to shake mine. "Zayed. I used to take care of this boy a long time ago."

"Zayed-jan and me dad grew up in the same neighbourhood back in Hazarajat," Abs explained. "Most of the guys at the kitchen down there are from Hazarajat too."

"You're Malaysian?" Zayed asked me again abruptly.

"Yes, I am. How'd you know?" I looked at him, amazed. "I get Chinese a lot."

"My friendo, I work here long enough to know Malaysian." Zayed answered smugly. "Mint tea is on the house for Malaysians. I'll get you some."

"Agha-jan. Bring us the hel tea," Abs suggested. "Let her have some."

Zayed went back to the kitchen while we enjoyed our meal. Abs' qabili palaw is a dish consisting of steamed basmati or long grained rice cooked to golden brown in a brothy sauce, mixed with raisins and carrots. The dish is served with a bowl of meat with chopped potato on the side, immersed with lentil sauce and dhaal. The dish looks so appetising, I won't be surprised he could finish it all.

My chicken al-faham is basically a half grilled chicken complemented with rice. The chicken is marinated with Arabian spices and barbequed in a charcoal-fired tandoori clay oven. The same rice was served on my dish except without the raisins and carrots.

I wondered what does hel tea looks like as it was not written in the menu. When Zayed returned with a tray of small silver teapot, a cup of sugar and two short tumbler glasses to our table, Abs poured the tea into each glass and I spotted black particles escaped through the filter of the spout. I opened the lid and found a couple of crushed cardamom pods floating on the surface of the tea.

"That's the hel, cardamom in Persian," Abs enlightened me as he scooped the sugar into his glass. "We usually have green tea to go with it."

I took a sip and tasted a slight spicy bitter to its flavor. I concurred that green tea (preferably loose leaf) is better served with cardamom because green tea is less concentrated compared to Early Grey or English Breakfast to blend in with the strong piquancy of cardamom, creating a balanced combination to the beverage.

We were finishing our tea after the meal when Abs took out his iPhone to read an incoming text message. His bushy eyelashes flickered in amusement as he scanned through the text.

"What's up?" I enquired.

"Nothing," he replied, still looking down on the screen with a smile attached to his face. "Old Trafford's hosting an international friendly between Argentina and Portugal next couple of weeks. That's sick!"

"Really?" my ears perked up, knowing that Abs is a fan of Christiano Ronaldo. I pulled out my phone and Google searched for match info and tickets. "Let me check the ticket prices."

"I bet it'll be sold out soon," Abs said dishearteningly. "Especially when the legendary CR7 is playing against Messi."

"Bosh! That's bollocks. Not if we get them first," I said confidently. "Once the ticketing platform opens, I'll get two for us."

"Hey, don't you used to work at Old Trafford before?" Abs looked at me thoughtfully. "Maybe you could ask your mate, Alex if he could gain access to it."

He was right, I do have a friend who still works at Unit 30, also an insider to all news and updates relating to the stadium. And obtaining tickets from him would be easy, been there done that. I quickly ran my fingers on my contact list for Alex and texted him with no hesitation.

"Ask him if he could spare four tickets for us." Abs requested.

"Four? Who else do you plan to bring?" I asked inquisitively.

"The usual gang. Sid and James, I reckon." Abs answered.