Stories

He Was Martyred

He told me he’d come home early and cook dinner for us. He was very excited just the night before. Humaira¬†burst out into a laughing fit¬†at dinner table, “You cannot cook bhai jaan!”

He smiled and replied, “I’ll show you tomorrow. I’ll be better than you!”

He made a list of ingredients right after dinner, which he forbade me from taking a look, let alone peek.

“No¬†ahmi jaan! It’s a¬†surprise!” He kept on saying as he hugged¬†his notepad to his chest and tapped the¬†pencil on his study table.

I continued to observe him.

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