The moment I picked up the receiver, a familiar voice greeted me.
"Assalamu Alaikum, Iman."
I straightened slightly, my tone naturally polite. "Wa Alaikum Assalam, Hafiz. How are you?"
"Alhamdulillah, I'm good. How about you?"
"I'm fine too, Alhamdulillah."
"Great. Actually, I needed a favor."
"Ahem."
I paused. No, actually, I froze.
Slowly-very slowly-I turned my head to the side, and there he was.
Ahad Shah.
Sitting in the chair next to the cat, legs crossed, arms draped over the armrests like some royal prince. His fingers absentmindedly brushed through the cat's fur as he stared at me with an expression that screamed I am up to no good.
I ignored him.
"Sure, Hafiz. What is it?"
"Do you have 'The Age of Innocence'?"
"The Age of innocence, huh?" Ahad muttered dramatically under his breath.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Ya Allah, sabr.
"Yes, I have it," I answered, choosing peace.
"Great! I need it for-"
"Ahem. Ahem. Ahem."
This time, obnoxiously loud.
I turned my head again, and Ahad was suddenly very interested in his nails.
I took a deep breath. "Sorry, Hafiz, you were saying?"
"I need the book now if possible. I'd have come myself, but my nephew and niece are over, and there's no one home to look after them.I had called you but you hadnt picked it up so I thought you must be in the library right now"
"Oh! How convenient," Ahad muttered under his breath, shaking his head like a detective who had just uncovered a grand conspiracy.
I shot him a glare. "Shh!"
He raised his eyebrows in fake innocence.
"Thanks, Iman. I really appreciate it."
"Of course, anything for Haffiz bhai," Ahad mimicked in a high-pitched voice, fluttering his lashes exaggeratedly.
I gripped the receiver tighter. "No problem, Hafiz. I'll bring it over in a few minutes."
"That would be great. JazakAllah."
"JazakAllah, JazakAllah, please take the whole library too," Ahad whispered dramatically, fake-wiping a tear from his eye.
I shot him a glare so sharp that even the cat flinched.
"Alright, Hafiz, see you soon," I said quickly before my overgrown toddler of a best friend could open his mouth again.
"See you. Allah Hafiz."
I put the receiver down and turned toward Ahad.
He was watching me, resting his chin on his hand, tapping his fingers against the desk as if waiting for something.
"Are. You. Five years old, huh?" I asked, arms crossing tightly over my chest.
He gasped, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. "How dare you? I am clearly six."
I groaned.
"Are you blind?" he continued. "Did you not hear the suspicious tone in his voice? The oh-Iman-I-need-a-favor-so-sweetly-pleading tone?"
I frowned. "It was a normal request, Ahad. He needed a book."
Ahad scoffed, shaking his head in deep disappointment. "Poor, naïve little Iman. So much innocence, just like the book he asked for-" He gasped theatrically. "Oh no! It's a sign! He wants to tell you something!"
"The Age of Innocence is a classic novel, you idiot!"
"A classic excuse to talk to you!"
I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples. "You're impossible."
"Not as impossible as the timing of his phone call," he quipped, raising a suspicious brow. "I mean, really, what are the odds that his niece and nephew just happened to be at his house today?"
I shot him a look. "They're children, Ahad. They don't operate on a secret romantic master plan."
"Well, he might!"
"Oh for the love of-" I turned away, grabbing the book from the shelf and marching toward the door.
"Don't fall on your way there, shorty," he called after me.
I slammed the door behind me.