alone in the room. Sweat dampened the neckline of my tee and trickled down my back. The ceiling fan and electric fan did little aga

ntless visitors who had sat here before. Directly above my head, a smart television was mounted on the wall, its dark screen reflecting the faint light. I realized that most homes here shared this same layout-a guest area, detached from the heart of the house, where outsiders could visit without crossing the invisible boundari

seep into my skin. Cupping my hands, I splashed water onto my face, droplets trailing down from my eyebrows to my mouth. I stared at my reflection, the lingering drowsiness clouding my eyes, my hair in complete disarray. Did I make the right choice in coming here? Or would

ongings until I pulled out a fresh towel, clean clothes, and the array of toiletries we'd picked up earlier in the day-shampoo, conditioner, a bar of rich, scented soap, face wash, and a small stick of deodorant. These little rituals of self-care fe

ped into my throat, and before I knew it, I let out an embarrassingly loud cry of horror, stumbling back as I froze in place. My breath caught as I registered who it was-Kashifa stood there, her expression caught somewhere between worry and alarm. She looked more concerned than amu

think to put on a shirt before stepping out of the bathroom." My face felt like it was on fire, and I could feel the flush creeping up my neck, heating my ears. I kept my gaze down, too mortified to meet his eyes, hoping Kashifa wouldn't read too much into the situation. The last thing I w

yself together. Each apology felt as though it only made things worse, but I couldn't stop them from spilling out. My cheeks were still burning, and I couldn't quite meet Kashifa's eyes, hoping that my blushing, hurried attempts at cover

words. "Which... well, you obviously are." He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck, and his cheeks held a faint hint of color that matched my own embarrassment. "Anyway, that's actually why I came by. My friend invited us both to dinner tonight, and I thought I'd see if you were up for

ive him of the chance to enjoy time with his friends just because I was still battling the remnants of jet lag.

I added, my enthusiasm growi

around eight? That way, we can enjoy a nice dinner and maybe hit up a few local spots afterward.

s new city, but the thought of venturing out with Kashifa and experiencing the local nightlife thrilled me. The energy around u

ally reviewed my wardrobe, wondering what I should wear that would make me feel both comfortable and

ror, adjusting my outfit for the evening. I took a deep breath to steady myself. This is a new adventure, I

essed casually yet stylishly, waiting with an eager express

y to embrace whatever the night had in store for us, ready to

ce. The sounds of the city enveloped me-the distant chatter, the honking cars, and th

arating mix of freedom and adrenaline. As we ascended, the headlights of his bike cut through the darkness, while the streetlights along the highway cast

navigating a landscape that was unfamiliar to me, with nothing but the rhythmic hum of the engine and the gentle breeze that whipped past us. I

amiliar face in this unfamiliar setting, and despite my worries, I felt a budding trust in him. His confidence on the bike

ds. I took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs, and tried to push the anxiety aside. This was an adve

houted over the roar of the wind, hi

ied, forcing a cheerful tone. The trut

" He called back, a grin spread across h

to step out of my comfort zone and embrace the unexpected. As we soared through the night, I beg

, adorned with an assortment of colorful pillows, inviting us to sit and relax. A few bottles of soda sat nearby, their labels glistening under

reat when it came to names, so I masked my embarrassment with a bright smile as we exchanged greetings. Despite my forgetfulness,

of my decision to forego an extra jacket. I had thought my shirt would suffice, but the cold wind was unrelenting. I pulled my ar

atmosphere alive with energy and connection. Despite my initial apprehension about being in a foreign place with unfamiliar faces, I felt a growing sens

playfully. "You alright? Should we grab a bl

The lightness in his tone made me feel more relaxed, and I smiled bac

he offerings. The centerpiece was a generous serving of fluffy rice, perfectly cooked and steaming, inviting us to dig in. Alongside it sat the chicken karahi, a dish renowned for its rich fl

ration. I couldn't help but admire how each dish was a reflection of the care and tradition behind Pakistani cooking. Simpl

ated and welcoming, shared anecdotes and jokes that floated through the air like music. I found mysel

his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as he loaded

paired wonderfully with the rice. Each bite was an explosion of taste, and I savored every moment. The fi

of rice. The camaraderie around the food made the night feel even more special; we w

, their laughter echoing in the cool night air. In that moment, I felt a profound sense of belonging and gratitude. This wasn'

dinner-it was a new chapter unfolding in my life, one ric

ents-this laughter, this warmth, this budding

warmth radiating through our contact as we walked away from the lively group. "I want to show you something." He said, his voice bubbling w

me?" I asked, a hint o

me with a toothy grin that made his greenish-brown eyes sparkle like gems. They cau

reached a clearing, I was struck by the sight before me. The city lights sprawled out in a dazzling array, twinkling like stars against the backdrop of the night. The view was mesmerizing, a breathtakin

ashifa asked, his voice

surreal, and I found myself caught up in the moment, the vibrant c

h of warmth flood my cheeks, a blush creeping in as I processed his compliment. It hung i

. A playful smile danced on his lips as he leaned slightly clo

earnest and sincere. The vulnerability in his voice made my

vast city illuminated by the glow of countless lights, sharing a moment that was undeniably special. The connection between us seemed to

erything up, the laughter and camaraderie of the evening still echoing in my mind. Some of Kashifa's friends had arrived in cars,

pite wearing fleece joggers, my legs felt the chill too, a reminder that I hadn't dressed warmly enough for the mountain evening. The th

what he said over the roar of the motorcycle. "What?" I aske

l you trembling." He repeated,

ively seeking warmth. Before I knew it, without waiting for my permission, he reached down, pulling both of my arms

more securely, feeling the warmth radiating from him. As I nestled against him, I caught a