His long fingers grazed the end of the sliding glass door.

He closed it shut and turned on the shower, his face facing towards the water that started to rain on him. Droplets of water seeped through his chin and down through his lengthy throat. His Adam's apple bobbled up, gulping at the cold rush that oozed inside him.

He tended the midnight black strands of hair to fall back with his fingers and looked down, exhaling and then he leaned on the wall.

For a few minutes, he stood there, his hands steadying him while the shower of rain continued to rain on his scalp, and then went down to his naked back. His back muscles contracted and relaxed to the chillness, his earthy skin wet with life.

Just as his loquacious eyelashes closed, small droplets of water dripped down his cheeks. His thoughts again wandered to a particular girl. For the hundredth time he sighed, his soaked lips opening up.

A girl in a wheelchair.

A girl who cannot walk. Yet had effortlessly walked inside his heart and occupied his mind.

Whenever he thought of her, his heart lurched. She has become a craving for him. To meet her, to see her, talk to her, or at least listen to her, tease her, make her laugh, and enjoy her company.

He, at last, sighed in defeat with the Almighty. Oh! How beautiful did he make her?

His eyes opened but he couldn't see the gray-marbled wall. He envisioned himself in Shabna's backyard, Asma turning around and looking at him. Her piercing eyes, drilled into his soul. Subconsciously he went back to

where he was immersed in watching the flipping of her hijab as she called him, "Asad."

Her whispering his name had almost killed him.

He then recalled the first time he met her in person when she had arrived at the airport, he had been spellbound, the four chambers of his heart forgetting to pump blood, instead, it felt like they pumped butterflies. "Is this beauty Asma?" He had asked, too mesmerized for others to notice that he had forgotten to breathe.

"Asma," his plump lips tested her name, a strange taste of enchantment spread out on his tongue. Making him feel things.

Asma. Oh! the things she made him feel. He recalled her talking to Lucy. Of her calling her disability a blessing. Her tender face had grown soft, a light smile gracing her lips. She wasn't offended, she wasn't hurt. The goodness of her heart and her strength made her a magnet that pulled him in.

"Oh! Asma. What are you doing to me?"

And then he was back to reality, he relinquished the water that soaked his light brown skin. He turned around to the glass door but the foggy glass failed to show him his reddened face. He could still hear his thumping heartbeats and the race of the organ in which it is bound to fail.

He sighed, leaning his back completely on the marble wall. His hands fell to his side, so badly wanting to know what was happening inside of him. His chest raised and fell in a haywire way.

The shower was not on but he was soaked in the aftermath of the rain it had showered on him. Yet he would agree that her thoughts soaked him more than the water could have done.

Imprinted in his skin.

Entering the four-walled chambers and closing the door shut. Taking full control of the two hemispheres of his mind.

A supply of emotion that was very new to him. An emotion that made him feel alive with all sorts of feelings. Feelings that only surrounded her.

Beginning and ending with just her.

Asad's tropical shirt hung loose as he walked around the breakfast table just in time as the toaster popped up with a set of bread. He grabbed one piece of bread and crunching on it, opened the fridge.

"That was mine," Samad slowly groaned, his gaze scrunched at the half-eaten bread slice.

Asad smugly tilted up the right side of his lips, "Sorry and not sorry."

Samad rolled his eyes in annoyance, making his way to take the leftover bread but Asad won him over.

"Hey!" Samad tried to shoo Asad's hands away but failed to do so. Shaking his head, he went to the other side of the counter to bring more bread.

"What should I do to make up for it?" Asad called out looking at Samad's retreating form. He then bent down to take out a pot. "I will make your chai," he replied to his question as he switched on the stove.

He poured some milk, cracked open an elaichi, and put it in the milk. Ready with the tea powder, he slipped up on the counter beside the gas top, taking another bite of the bread.

After putting the bread into the toaster, Samad walked to his twin, he snatched the other bread from Asad's fingers and silently placed it on a plate, and started to apply peanut butter.

"You know, tum Mama ki kami poori karthe ho," Asad flashed his teeth in a childish grin.

"Now don't think I will stroke your hair or anything," Samad grunted, placing the plate on his twin's lap.

"Expectation killer."

Samad ignored his comment and lowered the flame before the milk boiled. "Along with chai, I want you to accompany me to fix the apartment I am moving into with my wife."

"So much work for stealing two slices of bread. You ruined my appetite, twin," Asad pouted boyishly.

"That's not going to work," Samad shrugged at his pout, patting his back," Quickly prepare the tea, we don't have all the time in this world."

Asad begrudgingly got down from the counter and moved around to complete the task at hand. When Samad drove down to the apartment, he scrolled through the reels on Instagram to keep himself distracted.

"When you said to fix the apartment, you didn't mean opening infinite boxes of deliveries from Amazon, did you?"

Samad shrugged, moving in through the small gap between the piled-up boxes, making his way to the bedroom. "I will make you repay for all the work you make me do."

"Will see when your time comes, twin," Samad evilly grinned before vanishing inside the bedroom.

It took Asad half a day to open the boxes, keep the items on one side of the house and roll the boxes thin towards the other side while Samad assembled and arranged the bed, the dining table and chairs, and the small closet that they had bought from IKEA.

After dumping the empty boxes, Asad brought takeaway smoothies. When they failed to satisfy their hunger, they both ordered pizza.

"I will remember this moment until I die, Samad," Asad took the last bite from his pepperoni pizza, "Of how you ruined my perfectly planned Sunday."

Samad cracked up, "In shaa Allah after a week, you will have all the house to yourself. You won't have me ruining your Sundays anymore."

His reply silenced Asad, "Why does it not make me happy?"

Samad pinched his twin," The last time I remember, you have never shown any symptoms of sadness about it."

"I do, I rarely show," Asad slowly whispered, rubbing the spot Samad had pinched before standing up and leaving the room before the tension that had slipped into the air - started to suffocate him.

"Fairy lights, for real?"

Asad's bewildered self looked at the strings of lights in his hands. "My hands feel so girly after organizing these jewelry boxes."

"Samad, they are empty."

"How much jewelry would a girl own to fit in these boxes?" Samad wondered, making Asad laugh.

"As much jewelry to make them shine this bright, " He switched on the lights after hanging them on the headboard of the bed.

The twins groaned together at the girly aura the lights created. Before lying down on the bed, their legs hanging.

"Thank you for making me cringe for an eternity. Next time you call me to fix your apartment, know that my answer will be a no."

Samad didn't reply to his dramatic other half immediately. The lights contrasted their shades on the similar faces of the twins.

"Hopefully, next time it will be the other way around."

Asad confusedly turned to face Samad. His face glowed with different shades of color.

"What? You want to die single?"

°°°

It's hard for me - Asad

to confess that you - Asma are

the ruling party now.

Of the entire me.

You hold the reins of power

to make or break me.

I have no ability, not

even to control my thoughts.

They revolve all around you,

Like I said, it's hard

but I will confess wholeheartedly that

You are my first ray of sunshine, Asma.

Team Asad, come let's cry.