Roots Of Togetherness

The next morning, soft light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Hala stirred slowly, the headache duller but still lingering like a dull throb at the back of her skull. She shifted carefully, not wanting to jolt herself awake too abruptly.

Hadi was already up, sitting at the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone with that familiar focused look. When he noticed her eyes open, he smiled gently, setting the phone aside.

“Feeling any better?” he asked, voice low and cautious.

“Somewhat,” she replied, rubbing her temples lightly. “Still a bit off, though.”

He nodded, eyes softening with concern. “Don’t push yourself too hard today, okay? We’ve got to join everyone for breakfast soon, but if you need to sit out or take it slow, just tell me.”

Hala tried to smile but the weight of the lingering discomfort kept it faint. “You’re too careful sometimes.”

He shrugged, sliding off the bed to get dressed. “I’m just worried about you. You barely ate yesterday, barely slept.”

She sat up fully, swinging her legs over the edge. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

Downstairs, the breakfast table was crowded with dishes—steaming parathas, a tray of halwa puri, fresh yogurt, and tiny bowls of achaar. The house hummed with soft chatter, cousins laughing somewhere in the corner, uncles discussing logistics for the next day.

Hala followed Hadi into the dining area, quietly taking the seat he pulled out for her. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but skipping breakfast would’ve raised more concern than she was ready for.

Eshal leaned over, whispering, “Are you okay, Bhabhi? You look pale."
“I'm fine,” Hala replied under her breath. “Just a mild headache.”

“Is it because of staying up late yesterday?”

She gave her a small nod,"Maybe." then glanced at Hadi, who was watching her over the rim of his chai cup.

“You didn’t eat anything yet,” he said quietly.

“I will.”

“You said that last night too.”

Hala gave him a side-glance. “You’re being impossible.”

“No,” he replied, calm as ever, “I’m being married.”

She blinked, surprised, then gave a weak chuckle. “That’s your line now?”

“I’ve got a few,” he muttered, leaning closer. “But most of them start with you not scaring the hell out of me in the middle of the night.”

“I told you I was fine.”

“You told me after running to the washroom, nearly passing out at the sink, and brushing me off like I was the annoying one.”

She groaned softly, resting her elbow on the table and hiding her face in her hand. “Can we not do this here?”

He softened immediately. “We’re not doing anything. Just eat, please.”

A voice called from across the table, “Beta, try the channay. They’re good today.”

“Thank you, Aunty,” Hala replied with a polite smile. Then, under her breath to Hadi.

He leaned in again, dropping his voice. “You haven’t touched anything but fries and half a naan in two days. Forgive me if I act like a human being with emotions.”

She stared at him.

He stared back.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.