"Oye, ladki! Uth bhi jaa!" A feminine voice screeched behind Faajal's ears, jostling her furiously. [Oye, girl! Wake up now!] Faajal hissed, declining to open her eyelids. This woman couldn't even let her rest in peace! No wonder Ravinder inherited a short temper. Badi amma smacked Faajal's arms to awaken her, but the younger resisted. Today, she resolved not to obey any of this woman's futile commands. 

"WAKE UP!!"

Faajal kicked her blanket off and arose, squinting her eyes at the wrinkled face fuming before her. "Don't you have work?! Queen is sleeping like she owns this castle!" The elder mocked in fury, boiling Faajal's blood. How dare she taunt her when she was the one earning their bread! 

She stuck out her tongue behind Badi Amma's back as she stomped her trail out of the room. What did this woman and her son cherish by weighing Faajal down?  

Faajal donned quickly in her outer attire and walked to the dining room. The fragrance of paratha and vegetable curry churned her stomach, urging her to swallow two or three at once. She hastened beside Chanchal, who gestured towards the kitchen. Faajal bobbed her nape in query. Chanchal rolled her eyes and pointed again. Faajal narrowed her eyes towards the minuscule room to pick a better view. There, Ravinder jerked his head at Gurbani, who uttered no word but lowered her head. Ravinder's lips wobbled as his eyes popped out of the sockets. He was again lashing out at her for some vain reasons. Faajal's hands fisted on the table as her teeth clashed on each other. The rage flashing through her would rupture any moment if her restraint didn't conceal it. Chanchal seemed to sense her wrath, dissuading her to calm down and stay normal. 

The bickering ended. Ravinder sat in front of Faajal, his stare clashing with hers. Faajal would have swerved her look elsewhere, but today, courage burned her heart. She moved her gaze not an inch aloof, stilled at his intent watch. 

"Lower your gaze!" The roar spiked the quietness of the room, startling the ones present there. "How dare you look at me like this!" 

Chanchal jabbed her arm from below the table, impelling her to divert her gaze and swallow the words silently.  

"MMmm, she thinks herself a big star! You would have been nothing without your father!" Badi amma emerged from behind, stabbing the words in her eardrums. Faajal maintained her composure for the sake of Gurbani. Did she speak back, these sickening people would tear the heart out of Gurbani, and no child could seal their mother to such a state. 

Faajal chewed down the parathas, bending her head down from Ravinder's eyes. After finishing breakfast, they headed to the studio and entered her jammed schedule. The incident kept relapsing into her mind, infuriating her conscience. Moreover, the assistant director of the recent play had already worn out her patience. A man of a maximum of 5 feet in height yelled like an elephant at the tiniest of slips, positioning everyone against him. Why did all these ill-tempered people tarnish only her life?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

At lunch break, 

"You finish your food. I am off to my business. Don't move for a moment." Ravinder snapped his fingers and strode away. Faajal peeked over the door to confirm no eyes pointed at her before unpacking a third box from her pouch. They generally brought two boxes for lunch, but Faajal had pleaded to Gurbani for another. 

"Ma, please, another one, nah? For Yusuf," she nagged Gurbani, who stirred the curry kept on the stove. "Your baba packs the boxes. What if he discovers?" 

"Nothing will happen. I will hide this in my bag." 

She did manage to cover this from Ravinder's grasp. Emptying her box, she hastened to the hall Yusuf awaited her. The steel box scalded her hand, but she paid no attention when time fled away. 

"Oye," she gasped and sank into the seat beside him. 

"Areey kya hua hai tujhe?" 

"Kuch nahi. Bas," she handed him the box. His brows arched in question as he peeked at the box then her. "I asked ma to make you this. It may not be as delicious as your Pakhtuni dishes but you can try it." 

"You bothered aunty-ji for this? he scowled. 

"Aunty-ji wanted to cook more. I forebode as baba could have caught." 

Yusuf sighed and lifted the lid. The aroma of pulao and butter-added chicken wafted towards her, provoking her stomach to consume more despite finishing a box. 

"These! Oh my," Yusuf dipped his fingers in and started feasting on the dishes as though he had starved for weeks. "Slow, slow." Faajal chuckled, seeing his speed. 

"These are so good! They taste like the ones ammi used to make for me." A sheen of longing gripped his voice. The twinkle of joy in him subdued into aching yearning. Faajal rested her palm on his shoulder to ease his dismay and offer comfort.  

"You want to have some? You seem to be craving." he offered some rice before her mouth. She took the rice from his hand. "Mmm, I wish ma made this often," 

"You can tell her. Now, your earnings have increased." 

"Baba and badi amma then would mock the hell out of her," she grunted. 

"It's enrooted in their nature," he grinned. 

"Sometimes, I think, Yusuf, when will I make something of myself? When would these people stop their mockery and accept me into their family? Even Saira di is annoyed with me and my job." 

"Tell her to replace you for a day. Tell her to toil all day long instead of poking people's backs. Don't these women of your family have any other job? Or are they idle like your father?" 

Faajal swallowed another mouthful of rice and curry. "They do help ma, though." 

"Are these only the duties of women?" he frowned.

"Then what do you think more?" 

"Bearing children," he released the words in rapid simplicity. Faajal choked on her food, coughing constantly, adding to the indignity of having him slap her back. "Oye, why do all girls become shy hearing this thing?" 

Faajal probed whether another meaning lurked in his words, something unnerving. Her eyes narrowed at him, seeking his purpose behind these utterances. "Why are you looking at me like this? Focus on yourself, otherwise, you'll choke again."

She feigned a smile and fetched his water bottle to drink. "Don't finish the whole thing," he said. 

She darted a nasty glare at him and sprinkled some leftover water on his face. "I will finish it a hundred times, a thousand times, a million times." 

He retorted, "Who are you to me?" 

"Your friend. Best friend."

"Or more than that?" 

She paused the scorn rising up her throat. The realisation of his tone struck her well. As his face lit up with a smile, she stayed silent, banishing the warmth blooming in her cheeks. Yet, the walls of her stomach shivered. No, she shouldn't let her thoughts drift too deep. 

After some chattering and eating, Faajal sneaked her way back to her room and shoved the box in her pouch. Evening elapsed, and dark filled the sky. The moon clung to the opaque sky; it was a crescent tonight. Faajal's rehearsal ended earlier, so she watched the clouds smoke over the stars and pass by, having nothing to do. Her mind retreated to his words. The edge in his tone, the sparks in his eyes, the intimacy they shared often; did these point to something? Was their thread reaching the cusp of something entirely new and inexplicable? Perhaps she was too young to suppose this, too immature to prob the future. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

"Faajal, I have to meet Devika Rani. It'll be late." Ravinder said behind her, startling her out of her stupor. "Okay, baba." 

 She sat alone in her room, tangled in wild guesses. She was lost in her head when some distant footsteps demanded her attention. "Oye, I heard your baba coaxing the boss?" Yusuf crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Yepp, he said it'll be late." 

"Good for us," he grinned and sat beside her. They didn't exchange words or silly disputes like before. Instead, they lived in the quietness of the room, hearing the crickets hum outside. Yusuf grabbed a paper from somewhere and folded it in half. "Are you making something?" 

"Hmm, a lotus." 

"Can you teach me, please?" An enthused smile stretched across her face. He smiled, "Fine, then. Grab a paper." 

Faajal tore a small piece of the newspaper lying on a table and scrambled near him. 

"So, firstly, fold the square in half by the corner. Make it a solid and even crease," he deftly finished his fold while she struggled to make the corners meet. 

"Then, unfold and repeat in the other direction." She followed his instructions hastily. Her untrained hands lacked her confidence. Still, she continued. 

"You see this point in the centre? Fold the corners inwards on that point."  He pressed the corners firmly as she couldn't decide whether her folds were correct. "It's hard," she moaned. 

"Have patience, mehbooba. Now, you have a smaller square. Do those folds again." 

She obeyed him. His adept hands finished these swiftly while she stressed over her steps, uneven. 

"Flip over and repeat." 

"Done," Faajal showed him her little square.

"Lift the edges and shrink their height by making little creases. Just a little fold." 

They completed the step. "Now, flip it over, and the extra little edges you see, drag them to the middle. Do it very gently and slowly." 

Faajal tried to pull those up to the middle, but the paper buckled and distorted. After a few attempts to make it right, she sighed in defeat. 

"Oh no, don't pull too harshly." He extended his hand for aid and demonstrated the techniques. But her mind wasn't there. She was too focused on their conjoined skins, colliding against each other. The parts of her hand which came in contact with his blazed red. Her bloodflow roared and gushed through her veins, trembling her stomach as though lightning had struck her. She sensed the warmth on her hands disperse everywhere, from her head to her toes. Some inscrutable sensations rippled inside, weakening her response. 

"See, as you join those tips together, they form little petals." he smiled at her, probably unbeknownst to her state. Her prayer came true by the grace of Waheguru. She was too mortified by her befuddled state. 

His hands went away. A cluster of petals rested on her palms. "Lift the remaining corners at the sides. These are leaves." She flipped them up. Now, a little lotus rested on her palm, light and frail. "It's so cute," she cooed, fiddling with the petals in her fingers. 

"Not like you, though." His orbs bored into hers as a smile parted his lips. It wasn't mockery or playfulness; something like deep admiration or she perceived too much. 

At home, 

"Didi, I am damn sure he feels something for you. He wouldn't do so many things for a friend." Chanchal squealed. "You two are ascending to something else, di."

Faajal kept her silence. The night breeze whistled outside, ruffling her curls. She asked her heart the same question and rummaged for an answer. Were they stepping into something thrilling and novice? 

So, lovelies, what is this feeling Faajal currently detected? What do you think? Let me know. Are they part of the same destiny?