"Here we arrived," he said, his voice breaking the silence.
"I'll be back in 20-25 minutes," I said while taking my bag from the backseat, the soft rustle of the bag's fabric filling the air.
"Okay, I'll be waiting here," he replied.
I got out of the car and stepped into the salon, the warm aroma of hair products and the hum of chatter enveloping me like a cozy blanket. The sound of laughter and the click of scissors created a lively atmosphere, making me feel at ease.
After about 35 minutes, I emerged from the salon, feeling refreshed. The cool evening air hit me, making me shiver. He was still there, in the car, waiting for me, his eyes fixed on the salon door. He opened the door from inside, and I slid into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity.
"You're early! I thought you'd take more time," he said while I placed my bag on the backseat, the soft thud of the bag hitting the seat echoing through the car.
"You look great. These wavy hair suits you," he added, his eyes scanning my face, making me blush.
I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest, and picked the shawl from the backseat. The soft, fuzzy texture of the shawl felt comforting as I wrapped it around me, the warmth of the heater enveloping me like a hug.
"By the way, I made something for you for dinner," I said, my voice filled with excitement, as he turned the heater on a higher degree, the warm air caressing my skin.
"Really?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement, making my heart skip a beat.
"Yup...., Chicken karahi, your favorite!" I replied while picking the tupperware from the dashboard, the savory aroma of the karahi wafting out.
He picked the tortilla, took a small portion of it, had some chicken karahi, made a bite, and then had it, his eyes closed in appreciation.
"Oh! The aroma! The taste! Everything's great!" he said, his voice filled with sincerity, making me beam with pride.
"If I hadn't tasted food made by you, I must've thought that it'd been ordered from a restaurant," he added, his voice filled with admiration.
"I'll take that as a compliment," I replied while raising a brow with a smile.
"Infact, it is. Have a try!" he said, while moving forward the tortilla to me.
"No, I don't need... I'm feeling full," I replied.
As we continued our journey, the soft song playing in the background created a soothing atmosphere, making me feel drowsy. The dark landscape whished by outside my window, the occasional flash of headlights illuminating the car, making me feel like we were in our own little world. He drove smoothly, his hands confident on the steering wheel, making me feel safe and secure.
After about an hour, we were moving through a dark area with trees on both sides, the only sound being the creaking of the trees and the occasional hooting of an owl. The darkness outside made the car feel like a cozy cocoon, making me feel snug and protected.
"Mustafa, I need to use the restroom," I said, breaking the silence, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Okay, there'll be a petrol pump nearby. We'll stop there," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring.
He stopped the car at a petrol pump, the bright lights illuminating the dark surroundings, making me squint.
"Let me see first. You wait here," he asked and got out of the car.
After a moment, he came back and opened my side of the door. "Come," he said, his voice gentle.
I went out of the car, removed the shawl from my shoulders, and he took it from me. The cool night air hit me, making me gasp, as I got out of the car.
As I came out of the restroom, The cool night air rushed in, sending a shiver down my spine. He wrapped the shawl around my shoulders, his fingers brushing against my skin.
"Do you need anything from the tuck shop?" he asked, his voice concerned, making me feel cared for.
Uh-huh... It's too cool outside", I replied.
"Let's get back in the car. Or you'll get cold", he said while opening the car door for me.
I sat in and he took the driving seat. As we continued our journey, the soft song playing in the background lulled me to sleep, the warmth of the car and the gentle motion of the vehicle making me feel like I was floating on a cloud. I changed to a knee-to-chest position with my eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the car and the gentle motion of the vehicle, my feet touching his hand, as he rested his arm on the armrest.
He felt the chill from my feet, touched my feet again with the back of his hand, and then he stopped the car, pulled the short blanket from the backseat - which he always kept in his car for me, placed it on me, the softness of the blanket feeling heavenly on my cold feet. He placed the back of his hand on my forehead and brushed a kiss on my head, his lips warm and gentle, making my heart melt.
And then, he started driving again, with his one hand on the steering wheel while the other, he placed his palm on my feet, his fingers curled to hold them, the warmth of his hand feeling like home in that cold night.
I opened my eyes, watched him drive, and he noticed my gaze, turned to me, his eyes sparkling with amusement, making me feel like I was the only person in the world.
"You up!" he said, his voice low and husky, making my heart skip a beat.
"You need anything?" he asked further, his voice filled with concern, making me feel cared for.
"Uh-huh... But I need to use rest room again", I replied.
"Okay! Just a minute or two. There'll be something nearby", he said.
I nodded.
"Something's stuck in my mind?" , he said.
I looked at him with a question in my eyes.
"You're feeling cold. Your feet are freezing despite the fact that heater is on", he asked, his voice filled with concern.
"I don't know... ", I replied while looking away, avoiding his gaze.
"What you had for the dinner?", he asked. "What you ate after that icecream?", he asked further.
"Mustafa!", I called his name, my voice just above a whisper.
"Well.. you didn't.... Okay..", he said. "Now we're having dinner", he added while stopping a car infront of a restaurant.
"I don't want anything. I told you before. I don't have an appetite", I replied out of frustration.
"But you need it. Probably your BP is dropping", he insisted.
"But I don't want it. I'll have it when I feel like it", I said, feeling like being lectured for nothing.
"You need it or you'll faint as your BP is dropping", he said.
"Fine. Do whatever you want", I said angrily and got out of the car.
He got out of the car and we entered the restaurant, the bright lights and the aroma of food hit me like a wave, making my stomach tingle with hunger. The warm atmosphere enveloping us, making us feel like we were in our own little world.
As we sat at the table, he was looking at the menu, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"What do you want to have?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, my anger and frustration boiling over, the sound of the restaurant's background noise fading into the distance.
"Order something", he said.
"Do whatever you want", I said while simmering with emotions and stood up.
"I'm going to restroom", I added while leaving the shawl at the chair.
"Let me come with you", he said humbly, picked my shawl and started walking after me.
As I got out of the restroom, he tried to wrap the shawl around me, his fingers brushing against my skin.
"Don't you dare try to get close to me," I said, warning him, while taking the shawl from his hand, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Till we get to bed," he said teasingly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"No, you'll not be going to sleep beside me. Find yourself somewhere else," I replied angrily, my heart racing with emotions.
"If only you could sleep without my touch," he replied teasingly, his voice low and husky, making my heart skip a beat.
"Let's see then", I said and walked towards outside.
"Where are you going?", he asked while walking after me.
"To the car", I replied, my voice short.
"What about dinner?", he asked further.
"I don't want to stay here. I'll have it in the car", I replied.
He opened the car door and I sat in the car. As he closed the door, he went inside the restaurant and after a moment, came out and sat beside me in the car.
After a while, the waiter arrived with the food, handed over everything to Mustafa. As he handed me my plate, looking at Alfredo pasta, my anger dissipated, the aroma of the pasta hitting me like a wave, making my stomach tingle with hunger. I took a bite, and oh, it was heaven, the flavors exploding in my mouth. He knew my love for pasta, and I couldn't stay mad at him, my heart melting with love and affection.
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