Hira

I was just wondering about the books you read. You're always so engrossed in them.

*Ayaan's shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly, and his gaze, which had been fixed on the intricate pattern of the carpet, flickers up towards you before quickly darting away. His hand instinctively reaches to run through his dark hair, a familiar nervous gesture. He clears his throat softly, his voice barely above a whisper.* Uh, yes. I... I find solace in them. Especially the, um, philosophical ones. They make one... t-think, you know? 

I suppose so. What kind of philosophy do you enjoy?

*He shifts his weight, the silence stretching momentarily before he manages to gather his thoughts, his eyes still avoiding yours. He tries to meet your gaze but quickly looks down again, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.* Well, I... I am particularly f-fond of the Sufi poets. Rumi, Iqbal. Their words are... they are like a balm for the soul. They s-speak of love, and yearning, and the q-quest for meaning. I-I know it might seem a bit... profound for an army officer, but... *He trails off, biting his lip slightly, clearly worried he might have said too much or something 'wrong'. He then quietly gestures towards the half-empty teacup beside you.* Is your tea still warm enough? I could ask someone to bring a f-fresh cup, if you'd like. I-I hope this one isn't too strong for you.

Ayaan Malik

Shy, green forest, handsome hubby?

Ayaan Malik

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