#WritcoStoryPrompt10
Do you believe that there's a love story planned for you? If you think so, share your thoughts in form of story with us.
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#romance #lovestory
The crackling of the campfire filled the air, punctuated by the occasional pop of a marshmallow bursting open. Danial, usually the picture of stoic concentration during their medical studies, surprised everyone by gazing dreamily into the flames, a half-roasted marshmallow forgotten in his hand.

"Do you believe there's a love story planned for you?" Josh asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Danial met his gaze with a wistful smile. "I want to believe," he admitted.

Danish, his identical twin, couldn't contain his excitement. "Don't tell me, Danial! You have a dream girl! A whole love story in your head, maybe even a novel?" he blurted out, earning a playful nudge in the stomach from Danial.

"Woah, is that true, Danial?" Carl chimed in, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "We never pegged you for the romantic type. You always keep your distance from girls."

Danial chuckled. "Maybe it's time for a change," he said, finally taking a bite of the charred marshmallow. "I want to have a love story so someday, I can share it with my grandchildren, just like my grandpa did with us."

A comfortable silence settled around the group as they pondered this revelation. They were used to Danial being the quiet and reserved twin. This glimpse into his hidden desires was intriguing.

Jacob, sipping thoughtfully from his coffee, broke the silence. "But wouldn't you need to actually meet girls to have a love story? From where we're standing, you give them a ten-foot pole."

"Funny you should mention that," Levi smirked, "because girls seem to find him anyway."

Danial chuckled again. "My grandparents were a different story," he said, his voice taking on a reminiscent tone. "They had an arranged marriage. My grandpa was told by his parents to get ready for a visit to a relative. Little did he know they were taking him to meet his future wife! They got married that very day."

A wave of awe washed over the group. Danish, however, remained oblivious, focused solely on devouring the last remaining berries before anyone else noticed.

"Whoa, that's intense, man," Josh finally managed, voicing the collective sentiment. "I can't imagine marrying someone I've never met."

Levi echoed the feeling. "What if there's no spark?" he mused.

Carl, ever the pragmatist, added, "Exactly. How can you know if you're attracted to them?"
"It was a different time, of course," Danial explained. "Arranged marriages were quite common back then in my country."

Intrigued, Jacob leaned forward. "So, what happened next?"

Danial took a contemplative sip of his coffee before weaving a tale from his grandfather's past.

"On their wedding night, my grandfather, a shy young man of just twenty-one, was sent to his new bride's chamber. Nervousness gnawed at him. Up until that point, he had barely spoken to a woman outside his immediate family. Reaching the room, he saw a figure draped in a heavy shawl, sitting regally on the bed. He cleared his throat and stepped inside. The figure stirred, revealing a beautiful face framed by the shawl."
------

Amzad's palms were slick with sweat. At 21 years of age, this task seemed the most daunting he had ever faced. He was incredibly nervous.

"Why aren't you lifting my dupatta?" Amzad heard an irritated voice and turned to see his bride, who had lifted her heavy dupatta to reveal her radiant face. In the lantern's light, her face was glowing. There was irritation in her eyes, and her nostrils flared. Her kohl-lined eyes, the small nose ring, and red lipstick made her look breathtakingly beautiful. Amzad's heart began to race.

He was mesmerized by her.

"I've been sitting here for ages," Phul pouted, her voice laced with annoyance. "Amma said you'd come, lift my veil, and we'd talk. But you just sat there, quiet as a mouse! Do you know how heavy this dupatta is? I was roasting under here!"

Amzad stammered an apology, his palms slick with nervous sweat. He felt terrible for making his new bride uncomfortable. This whole arranged marriage situation was overwhelming, and he wasn't sure what to do.

Phul's anger softened slightly at his apology. A pang of guilt hit her for snapping at him. Amma had told her to be kind to her husband, and here she was scolding him right away. Amma would surely have her ears burning if she knew.

"It's alright," she mumbled, pushing a glass of milk towards him. "Here, Amma said to give you this."

Amzad shook his head. "Actually, I don't drink milk."

Phul's eyes darted between him and the glass. "Can I have it then?" she asked hesitantly, remembering Amma's advice to always ask her husband's permission.

A small smile tugged at Amzad's lips. "Of course, drink it if you like."

Phul drained the glass in one go. "Ah, that hits the spot," she sighed contentedly, a milk mustache blooming on her upper lip.

Amzad couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "Uh, ..." he began gently.

"What is it?" she asked, tilting her head in innocent curiosity.

"Your... mustache," he mumbled, a little flustered.

Realization dawned on Phul's face. "Oh!" she exclaimed, wiping her lip with her sleeve.

A moment of awkward silence hung between them. Amzad scratched his head, unsure how to proceed. This was all so different from his usual life.

"What's your name?" he finally managed to ask.

Phul's eyes sparkled. "For Abba, I'm Phul Bano. For Amma, I'm Fuli. For Nani, I'm Phul Kumari. Bhaiya calls me Choti, and Chotu calls me Fuli Apa."

Amzad's smile widened. This girl was full of surprises, listing off a whole collection of names.

"So, which one should I call you?"

Phul shrugged. "Whichever you like."

"How about Phul?"

"That's perfect," she beamed.

"I'm Amzad," he offered, a newfound warmth in his voice.

Phul's smile faltered slightly. "But I can't call you by your name, Amma says." Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if sharing a secret. "Wives shouldn't call their husbands by their names. But when we have children," her eyes lit up again, "I'll call you Abba, just like Amma calls Baba, 'Phul's Abba.'"

The unexpected sweetness of her words caught Amzad off guard. A burst of laughter escaped his lips, the sound genuine and joyful.

Phul's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing important," Amzad chuckled, his heart lighter than it had been all day. "There's just a lot I want to tell you, Phul. But trust me, you don't need to ask permission for everything. Also, let me tell you one thing,You're very cute," Amzad blurted out, surprised by the sweetness on Phul Bano's face.

The unfamiliar word left Phul Bano confused. "Huh? What's 'kyoot'?" she tilted her head, her eyes wide with innocence.

Amzad chuckled. "It means lovely," he explained gently.

A blush bloomed on Phul Bano's cheeks as she lowered her gaze. "Thankuu," she mumbled shyly.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to impress him with her knowledge. "You know," she announced proudly, "I speak English. My name Phul Bano. I'm girl."

Amzad's surprise was genuine. He hadn't expected his new bride to be educated. " "You know English? That's wonderful, Phul," he said with a warm smile.

Encouraged, Phul Bano puffed out her chest.

" Of course, I know English. In fact, I'm the most educated girl in my family and the whole area! I've studied all the way to Z!"

A peal of laughter escaped Amzad's lips. This wasn't quite the display of education he'd anticipated, but it was endearing nonetheless.

"Why do you keep laughing?" Phul Bano's brow furrowed in confusion. Was her attempt to impress a failure?

"No, no, it's not that," Amzad reassured her, wiping a tear from his eye. "Your way of speaking is charming. It suits you perfectly."

His words sent a wave of warmth through Phul Bano. Taking a bold step, Amzad reached out and gently took her hands in his. He pressed a soft kiss on the back of each one.

Flustered, Phul Bano's face turned the color of a ripe tomato. A shy smile played on her lips, and she instinctively covered her face with her hands.

Amzad watched her with amusement. Then, gently lowering her hands, he met her gaze. "Didn't your mother tell you that a wife shouldn't hide from her husband's affection?"

Phul Bano couldn't help but burst into laughter, the sound tinkling like wind chimes.
----


Danial concluded, "My grandmother always stood by my grandfather, in every joy and sorrow. My grandfather used to say that seeing my grandmother brought him peace, and all his worries vanished. For me, their love story is the best. I don't believe in love stories like Romeo and Juliet. The best love story is where people live for each other, not die for each other. And I'm looking for such a love story for myself too."

As Danial's voice trailed off, the group emerged from their captivated silence.

Jacob scoffed. "Lucky he was to have such a devoted wife, but nowadays? Marrying someone blind? Absolutely not!"

Danial smiled enigmatically. "Who says I won't see her? Before any wedding, I'll definitely meet her and see if she has the potential to be the heroine of my love story."

Josh shook his head. "Well, good luck with that, bro. It's your life, your choice. This whole thing is beyond me though."
Just then, a shriek pierced the air. Carl rounded the corner of the tent, a furious glint in his eyes, chasing after Danish.

"Those were the last berries, Danish!" he roared.

Everyone burst out laughing as Danish, his cheeks stained purple, weaved through the trees, the stolen berries clutched triumphantly in his hand.
---------

Danial fidgeted on the hard plastic hospital bench, the silence broken only by the quiet beeps of nearby machines. Shohaib, his best friend, had vanished to grab some crucial medication for his grandmother. Relief washed over everyone when the news came - she was out of danger.

A notification buzzed on Shohaib's phone left carelessly on the bench. Danial hesitated, then curiosity won. The ringing intensified, morphing into a frantic plea. He answered, bracing himself for bad news.

A torrent of worried questions flooded his ears. "Why did you take so long? We're all frantic! How's Grandma? Is she alright? Did anything happen? I should have been there!" A choked sob escaped the phone, sending a jolt through Danial.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry," he soothed, his voice unfamiliar to the panicked caller. "Your grandmother is perfectly fine, out of danger. They're moving her to the general ward soon."

A sniffle followed by a mumbled accusation hung in the air. "You should have told me earlier! You scared me half to death!"

Danial scratched his head. "I'm so sorry," he muttered since he couldn't tell her that she didn't give any chance to tell her anything and bombarded with him tons of questions.
"Shohaib is apologizing. No..." Danial heard her mutter.
Silence stretched between them. Finally, a tentative question broke it.
"Listen? Are you Shohaib?"

"No, I'm Danial," he confessed, his heart pounding in his chest.

And, the line went dead. Danial stared at the phone, a strange mixture of relief and disappointment swirling in his gut. He longed to hear that voice again, a voice that stirred something unexpected within him.

Just then, Shohaib reappeared, his face etched with concern. Danial recounted the phone call, his voice hushed.

"That must have been Kinza Api," Shohaib said, relief flooding his features. "She's been beside herself with worry about Grandma." He reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over Kinza's number.

A single word escaped Danial's lips, barely a whisper, yet filled with a newfound awareness. "Kinza." The name lingered in the air, and a shy smile played on his lips.
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