Suddenly, We Were Close
Chapter 32 of “Hold On”: Civil Junction 2016
(N.B. I’m writing a novel, a chapter a week, here on Medium. Find out why I write here, start from Chapter 1 here, and always feel free to give me feedback in the comments. I write here for the community.)
After spending a week in Peshawar, Ahmad began his journey to Islamabad on his father’s car. The road was generally empty. He played Ishq Kenara on the radio as he drove, reflecting on a conversation he’d had with his father about marriage proposals he’d had in mind for him. Ahmad then shared with his father about his feelings for Hira and how they enjoyed each other’s company. His father was pleased with this news, expressing his happiness that Ahmad had feelings for her. However, he urged Ahmad to remember his longing for grandchildren. He confided in Ahmad, “I’ve been waiting to become a grandparent. My only wish was to keep working until you completed your education. Now, you’re doing wonderfully, Mashallah, and I’d like to retire from my business. The business climate in Pakistan has been deteriorating over time, with daily demands for bribes from officials at my factory. I’d like to shut it down. Your mother and I hope to live with you and enjoy the company of our grandchildren.” Ahmad replied that he would soon speak to Hira’s parents about their relationship. Yet, in his heart, he knew that he and Hira would probably need another two years to marry as they were both establishing their careers in different locations.
In Islamabad, Ahmad checked in at a guest house in F7 and planned to fetch Hira from her apartment for dinner once she finished work. The guest house was near the Jinnah Super Market. It was a spacious building with a neatly trimmed garden. The receptionist, a middle-aged man with a slightly exaggerated moustache, exuded an aura of a fitness enthusiast. Ahmad was reminded of the bouncers he’d seen outside bars in New York. Yet, the man greeted him warmly, introducing himself as Arif. Arif took Ahmad’s National Identity Card for some formalities, and after a bit of paperwork and an advance payment, he offered to carry Ahmad’s bag, a gesture Ahmad noticed was unlike the service he’d received at hotels in the US where you were mostly expected to fend for yourself. Anything like this would be met with an expectation for payment. Arif led Ahmad to his room and explained how to use the air conditioner and TV remote, advising him to dial 0 for any assistance. As Ahmad collapsed on the bed, he admired the lush Margalla hills from his third-floor window. The greenery offered comfort to his eyes amidst the heat, and he reflected on how fortunate the people of Islamabad were to have these hills. He also speculated about the future of the area, imagining real estate tycoons erecting housing societies and the government building highways on and around these hills to accommodate the elite residents of the city. The beauty of this city would soon be tarnished, he mused idly.
Deciding to rest, he took a short nap, preparing himself for the dinner date he had anticipated for over a year.
At 7:30 PM, Ahmad left the guest house. Hira had asked him to pick her up at 8 PM. The trip from his guest house to Hira’s apartment in F10 was only 10 minutes long, but Ahmad, who couldn’t wait another 15 minutes, decided to leave early. He had dressed in khaki pants and his favorite red polo shirt, even spending extra time to smoothen his hair. Sipping on mixed chai, a beverage he missed while in New York, he reminisced about his newly-developed fondness for black coffee due to its convenience and frequent availability there. When he reached Hira’s apartment building in F10, it was still 7:45 PM. He waited for an additional ten minutes before sending Hira a text message.
Hira arrived back at her apartment at 7 PM. She quickly hopped into the shower. Ever since moving to this apartment, she’d taken to enjoying long showers — a luxury she’d never had back in Peshawar. There, her family lived in a small house with a basic bathroom, which she had to share with her father and three younger brothers. In those times, the morning rush for the bathroom was quite the event, with family members knocking impatiently at the door every few minutes. Now, she relished spending at least 20 minutes each morning and evening under the warm spray of water, a slice of time in which she cared for her own self solely. Today, however, she showered in a mere 10 minutes, eager to start preparing for her evening.
Last week, after spending 30 minutes in the Generation store, Hira had finally chosen a shirt. Nervous and not wanting to take any risks, she opted for her usual color, black, but spiced it up with a trendy cold-shoulder design. The thought of someone seeing her in this outfit back in Peshawar crossed her mind, but the prospect of seeing Ahmad in the dress soon made her dismiss it. She straightened her hair, applied a bold, deep red lipstick, and moisturized her face. She was aware that her mother might disapprove of her look, especially the lipstick, but she chose to ignore that fear.
Ahmad then sent a text message: “Hey, I’m downstairs, waiting for her Excellency.” Hira responded with a cat-face emoji adorned with three hearts, telling him she’d be down in five minutes. She quickly slipped into her black heels and stepped out of her apartment, her heart suddenly pounding in anticipation. She’d been longing to meet Ahmad but hadn’t anticipated this flurry of nerves. Doubts about her appearance sprang up: Would Ahmad like her black dress? She paused halfway down the stairs, took a deep breath, and continued her descent, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
When Hira reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Ahmad waiting by his car. He was looking excited and nervous, his anticipation clearly visible. As Hira approached, Ahmad hesitated, contemplating a hug, but decided against it. They exchanged greetings, and Ahmad thanked her for her warm welcome to Islamabad, opening the car door for her. He swung by to the other side of the car and slid in, gripping the steering wheel, expressing his disbelief that they were finally together. Hira simply nodded, and Ahmad started driving towards the Gol Market near F-7 Markaz. The area was an ideal spot for their date, offering a place to dine and a park for an after-dinner stroll.
They settled into their seats at a restaurant and ordered food and drinks. Hira mentioned the neighboring HotSpot cafe, an ice cream parlor, and its vintage interior filled with old movie posters. It reminded her of Ahmad’s stories about Peshawar and how he used to tell her about different spaces. But Hira has travelled a long journey now to be in a position to explore the public spaces of the city independently and share her knowledge with Ahmad. In her heart, Hira considered her quite an achievement. They decided to visit HotSpot later and enjoy a walk in the nearby park. While waiting for their food, Ahmad relayed his recent conversation with his father about their relationship. Hira, who could never imagine having such a lengthy discussion with her own parents, listened intently.
They both agreed to propose the idea of an engagement to their families next year and make plans for their wedding later. Ahmad shared his plans of setting up a startup in Silicon Valley in the next two years, and then return to Islamabad to operate a back office. They talked about the possibility of living together in Islamabad, painting pictures of a future they were beginning to shape.
After enjoying their ice cream, they strolled through the nearby park, and Ahmad shared about his startup. His venture aimed to enhance the computer vision capabilities of driverless cars, particularly in interpreting signboards. Hira responded by sharing her own work on air quality in San Francisco. She described to Ahmad how the increasing number of cars and frequent wildfires were wreaking havoc on the city’s air quality. Ahmad was taken aback by Hira’s deep understanding of the environment and mobility challenges in Silicon Valley. The mention of wildfires sparked an idea in his mind — why not use technology to detect and manage this crisis? He made a mental note to explore this concept in depth as soon as he returned back.
As they walked, Ahmad confessed how much he had missed her, especially after seeing other couples enjoying each other’s company. He expressed his longing for such moments in their own lives. Hira, smiling, reassured him, saying, “Don’t be silly, I’m all yours.” For the first time, Ahmad held her hand tightly, and a wave of warmth spread through Hira’s body. She wished that this beautiful moment could last forever.
As they walked, hand in hand, sharing their mutual affection and joy at being together so freely, Hira noted that it was already 11:30 PM. With Hira’s work the next day, they needed to part ways. She joked, “Ahmad, you might sleep until noon, but I need to get to the office and clean up San Francisco’s air before you land there.” They both broke into a laugh.
They strolled back to the car and drove towards Hira’s apartment building. They made plans to meet again the next day before Ahmad would return to Peshawar for the weekend, from where he would fly to San Francisco.
When they arrived outside Hira’s building, the street was unusually dark due to non-functioning street lights, with only one flickering at the corner. Ahmad parked the car and turned to Hira, expressing his wish that the night would never end and they could keep talking for hours. Hira simply nodded, words escaping her. She placed her hand over Ahmad’s, gripping it tightly.
Ahmad slowly moved his hand up Hira’s arm and into her hair, gently stroking it. As he drew his face closer to hers, Hira anticipated what was about to happen, yet remained still, placing her hand on Ahmad’s cheek. Ahmad gently held her head, pulling her face closer to his. Before they knew it, they were sharing a kiss. After a few seconds, Hira gently pushed Ahmad away and told him it was time for her to leave. She quickly gathered her things and disappeared through the gate.
Ahmad was left standing there, contemplating whether he should have acted differently. He worried that Hira hadn’t enjoyed their kiss and that her quick exit was a bad sign. He felt a pang of guilt, fearing he might have jeopardized their relationship and acted in haste.
Back in his room, Ahmad repeatedly typed out an apology message to Hira, only to delete it. Eventually, he decided to wait, hoping Hira might send him a message before she went to bed. He stared at his phone for two hours, until it was 2 AM, growing certain with each passing minute that Hira had gone to bed and might not want to see or talk to him the next day. With these thoughts racing through his mind, he laid his head on the pillow, eventually succumbing to sleep.
