A girl’s soft laughter rang through a large and spacious kitchen. She pressed her delicate, long, slender hand over her mouth to suppress the laughter, but soon after, she could not hold back anymore. Letting go and holding onto her tummy, she burst out in a peal of melodious laughter that felt more like music in his ears.
Her eyes lightly creased, and tears ran down the corner of her eyes.
"Oh my! Why is that still there? You have to add that, too!" She managed to say amidst her laughter, barely able to stand, pointing to a bowl of flour still on the kitchen island.
The man was in casual clothes and an apron and totally covered in flour. He looked at her helplessly, but one could see the loving gaze directed at the girl.
"I followed the box instructions carefully," he pointed out factually and a little aggrieved.
"Mmmmm... yea, right!" she rolled her eyes fondly at him and tried to curb the laughter.
Wiping the small tear that had escaped her eyes, she walked up to him and snatched the pre-packaged cake mix box from him, "It says to mix, three eggs, half a cup oil, one and a quarter cup milk or water...." She read out the instructions...
"Yeah, yeah.... You did exactly that, but... why is the cake mix still in the box when the other ingredients are ready for the oven?"
He scratched his hair sheepishly, "I wanted to do something different?"
"Well, like what? Dust yourself with the flour instead?"
"It’s okay, you tried your best... It’s the thought that counts. Take a seat, and I’ll continue."
He pouted. A look that made him look so cute. She knew that he only reserved that look for her.
He walked to sit on the other side of the island in the kitchen, and she picked up another apron, tying it swiftly around her small waist.
She bent to look at the contents of the mixing bowl, and a sigh left her lips before another round of uncontrollable laughter left her lips, when she remembered the state she had found him in a few moments earlier.
She laughed till her sides hurt. The contents of the bowl that he had spent almost an hour putting together looked like a gooey mess. It literally did not even look appetizing in any way. Holding on to one side of her waist, she wiped the tears that had fallen again.
She poured out the contents of the bowl into a bin and started putting together a new bowl of batter.
He watched her intently as she put in one ingredient after another. She paused intermittently to brush her hair out of her face. He got up suddenly, walked back around the counter and stood directly behind her, still in his apron.
"Stay still, Aliya," He whispered just behind her.
"When did you get here so fast? Weren’t you at the other end of the island?" she asked softly, wondering why they were whispering in the vast kitchen with only the two.
Ian bent a little at the waist, gently grabbed her shoulder-length black hair and tied it securely at her back.
"Even with your high heels, I still have to bend so much to reach you...." he said teasingly, and she pushed her elbow back to hit him, but he curved and moved back instinctively to avoid her as if he had expected her to do that.
"Hahaha.... I’m joking. Let’s get this hair out of the way so that you can work comfortably," After tying it, Ian unconsciously glanced at the baby hairs on the back of her neck and swallowed dryly as his laughter died.
He stepped aside and went back to his stool. His eyes followed all the small movements of her body as she emptied the contents of the mixing bowl, rinsed it and started a new round of the cake mixture.
Aliya worked diligently, the smile always stuck on her face, without falling off even once. Ian’s eyes never strayed from her even once. He loved seeing her work and creating wonderful recipes that made people’s mouths water.
"Hmmmmmm...." She responded without lifting her head.
"Hmmmmm...." She finally turned off the mixer, cutting off its light whirling sound. She gave him his full attention,
"How may I help you, Prince Ian?" she curtsied, exaggeratedly placing one palm on her chest. Ian burst out laughing as well, for she always did that. He never tired of calling out her name, and she would always answer without fail!
"Ian?" They both looked at each other fondly with smiles on their lips that spoke volumes to anyone who cared enough to watch.
Alone and surrounded by the dark quiet in the bedroom, he tossed and turned on the bed, murmuring one name: ’Aliya’.
His eyes fluttered open, staring unseeing at the darkened ceiling. He was all alone in the darkness and on the bed. A feeling so familiar yet so alien to him.
These were the times he hated—the times when the volume of his thoughts hiked up a few notches against his voice. The very rare time he bothered to listen to himself. His hoarse voice was the only thing that attempted to cut into the silence.
A silence so thick that he felt he could suffocate in it. This was the only time he could feel alive when the shuddering breath left his body and filled the dark room. An eerie and unsettling feeling to most, an appeasing comfort to him, if he lied to himself.
"Aliya?" This time, it came out as a raspy, throaty voice. It was as if the speaker had not used his voice in ages. In the darkened room, he called out again...
But no one answered. No matter how often he called out, Aliya’s voice was never heard. He felt stuffy in his chest. He dragged his hand and massaged his bare chest, but the tension he felt would never leave.
He did not know what day it was, not whether it was day or night, for his heavy drapes had been closed for as long as he could remember, but he just did not care anymore.
Ian threw his arms over his eyes as fresh tears ran down his face and onto the pillows.
"Aliya?" he called out again through the tears, but he already knew, that no matter how many times he called out, Aliya would never respond to him again, not ever!
Just then, the doorknob turned, further disturbing the quiet room, and making a loud clicking sound.
Thank you so much to all for your votes and comments! I hope we can keep it up ^_^