Mistakes, on both sides but mostly on his, had made it impossible in this one.
————————————————————
Amaal stood outside the line of boutiques on Rajbagh, the lights bright this late into the night. He was still not here.
She leaned on a lamp post and called him.
“Here, here,” he answered and cut the call immediately, his car lights blinking at her as it wove through the pedestrian traffic. Amaal huffed.
His window opened. “Sorry, traffic.”
Her eyes widened. She pushed her head through his window — “Are you wearing what I think you are wearing?”
“Just get in.”
Amaal met his eyes, not even trying to hold back her grin — “I just asked you to come show me your face, you brought the entire package?”
“Amaal.”
“Fine, fine…” she began to round the car.
“Mobile.” He yelled.
“Oh!” She turned and found her mobile on the lamp post platform. “Sorry, sorry…”
Samar was shaking his head when she settled beside him.
“How is it that you have not lost even one phone yet?”
“I don’t lose phones.” She turned and deposited her shopping into his backseat. Empty and clean for a change.
“You forget phones on any horizontal surface available.”
“It’s happened once or twice.”
He gave her a look over his specs, merging into the traffic.
“Where are we going?! Where did you rent a flat? I thought you already had rented one?”
“The lease got over and now I have to shift.”
“You have stuff to shift?!”
“Are you meeting me after two months and doing nothing but taunting?”
“Who started it?”
Samar's head turned to her. “Better that than doing what I want to do.” His eyes hit her mouth.
“We are in public.” She flushed, looking around as they were literally surrounded by pedestrians pushing into their slow-moving car.
“Precisely.”
Amaal sat back quietly then. They cleared the stretch and he raced it out to the main road.
“What’s in the bags?”
“Shopping! I am going to London.”
