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His beautiful dark eyes maintain contact with mine, apprehension lining his irises. I wait for him to stop me. For him to push me back. For him to say that this would be a bad idea.
But he doesn’t.
When I touch my lips to his, Sarfaraz doesn’t move at first. But then, slowly, his mouth presses against mine. Light at first, as if he’s waiting for me to change my mind. Gentle, like he’s afraid if he uses too much pressure I’ll break.
But when I grasp his face, and my nails dig slightly into his stubble, something seems to snap in him. He sits up faster than I could have believed, and his hands move to my hips. He pulls me onto his lap, so I’m angled higher than he is. The sudden movement makes me gasp, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. A noise I didn’t even know I was capable of making squeaks out, and I feel Sarfaraz laugh against me.
That first night we spent together in Zurich, I wondered what it was like to kiss the grown-up way. Well, it’s exactly like this. It’s his fingers tangled in my hair, moving to the base of my skull. It’s my hands gripping his shoulders, desperately clinging to him. It’s our bodies, hot and flushed against each other, pressing closer and closer like we can’t get enough.
“Maya,” he moans against my mouth, and suddenly I don’t want anyone to say my name ever again, because they’ll never say it the way this man says it. It’s like everyone I’ve ever met has been saying my name wrong, and I never knew it until now.
“Sarfaraz,” I groan in response, and he grins before swallowing my moan with his mouth. All thoughts about how I shouldn’t be doing this, about how this is a bad idea, about how this is going to bite me later, go straight out the window when fireworks erupt in my belly. I thought that a one-time kiss would be fine. But now I want more. I want his soft and slow kisses, and his hard and rough kisses. His quick goodbye kiss, and his long welcome-home kiss. His kisses that make me forget my own name, and his kiss that keeps me grounded on earth, in his arms. I want everything. All of it.
Sarfaraz’s lips move to my jaw, my throat, my collarbone, his stubble scratching against my skin making my toes curl. His mouth, open and hot against me, makes my core ache with longing. I grab his face and pull him back up to me, but as I’m about to kiss him again, I stop. Sarfaraz’s face hovers in front of my own. Our noses brush, our panting breaths intertwine. Our mouths are inches away from each other. But I know if I kiss him now, I won’t be able to stop myself again. I squeeze my eyes shut as regret settles into my skin, replacing the tingles Sarfaraz’s kisses left. I let out a long sigh, and when I open them again, I see the same regret echoed in Sarfaraz’s face. He sighs, too, squeezes my hips one more time, then rolls me to the side and lies back down.
We both stare up at the ceiling for a long moment, until Sarfaraz gets out of bed. He doesn’t speak, and I watch his retreating form leave the room. I let out a groan and cover my face, already missing the sensations of his touch on my body. That was a mistake. That was a big mistake.
But at least I know now, and I can move on with my life.
23
Maya’s Law #23:
What happens will always be the last thing you expect.
We have a quiet breakfast, and as we finish, Kenan shows up to let us know the bus to Karachi has arrived.
We all linger in the doorway, doing step three of the desi goodbye. The “desi goodbye” usually consists of declaring your intention to leave, sitting on the couch for another fifteen minutes, getting up and lingering by the doorway for another ten minutes, and then saying your actual goodbyes at the end of the driveway.
Salama kisses my cheek. “It was so nice to have guests for a few days.”
I give her a hug. “Thank you so, so much for your hospitality.”
“Really, we don’t know what we would have done had we not met such nice people,” Sarfaraz adds. He does a “manly handshake” thing with Kenan. “We’re very grateful.”
Salama cups the side of my face. “May Allah grant you and your husband a lifetime of happiness.”
I peek at Sarfaraz, who has a neutral expression on his face. We can barely look at each other after what happened this morning. He nods at Salama. “Thank you.”
After one last round of hugs, we depart, heading for the bus. When we get to the high steps of the bus, Sarfaraz offers me a hand, and I take it as I climb up. I don’t want to let it go, but of course I have to, and I clench my fingers into a fist as I find a place to sit. I slide into the window seat, and I wave again at the Kassab family. Once their figures are too small to make out, I smile sadly. “I’m going to miss them.”
“So will I,” he confesses. He’s acting totally normal, so I force myself to, as well. “You don’t meet good people like them that often.”
I look at him. Despite the drumming in my chest, and the memory of his mouth searing my skin, I reply, “Yet, here we are.”
He dips his chin, looking away from me. I don’t know why I’m being so reckless with my words. Maybe it’s because I know once we step off this bus, I’ll never see him again. He’ll go off to see his relatives, I’ll go get married, and the past week we spent together will be a distant memory.
Sleeping next to Sarfaraz has left me so well rested I don’t even feel the urge to nap on the bus. Instead, we chat lightly, reminiscing about the last few days and pointedly ignoring the lingering tension between us from this morning. Okay, so Sarfaraz carries most of the conversation, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s okay for once to be the one who stays quiet. I sit and listen, absorbing his laughter, staring at his smile, and committing the color of his hair to memory. When he talks, he doesn’t quite look at me, his words coming out fast and shaky. I wonder if it’s because he’s trying hard not to think about this morning. The thought worries my stomach, and I rub at my abdomen.
All too soon, the bus pulls into the station and chugs to a stop. Sarfaraz leans over me to peer out the window. “I’d say this is the best luck we’ve had so far,” he says. He sits back in his seat, waiting for the people in front of us to get off first. “We made it to our destination with no hiccups.”
“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath. “The best luck.”
We get off the bus and head inside the terminal building. The bus company sent us an email saying our luggage was left here, so we collect our stuff from the customer service workers. While I’m grateful that I’ve finally gotten my actual luggage after being without it since I left Toronto, sadness lingers in my chest because for once, there’s no unexpected delay.
We walk outside, and I quickly forget about the sweat dripping down my back as Sarfaraz and I awkwardly turn to each other. We both just stand there for a second, not quite making eye contact. “Well, I guess this really is goodbye this time,” Sarfaraz begins.
A heavy weight settles in my gut. “Yeah, I guess so.”
