"If my bedroom has no door, then what's the difference if I kiss her in there or here," Alan retorted with a hint of defiance in his tone.

"Don't push it or I'll throw you out of the house," Alan's father warned, not willing to tolerate any more provocations.

Fiza anxiously tugged at Alan's hand to get his attention and looked at him questioningly as though silently asking him to stop provoking his parents.

He leaned in and whispered softly to her, "They won't throw me out."

His father shook his head, clearly exasperated by his son's audacity.

"Is it okay if I go freshen up?" Fiza asked, trying to ease the tension that had arisen from their playful banter.

Alan's mother nodded in approval, while Alan and his father exchanged intense glances, a reflection of their differing viewpoints on the matter.

Alan's family had always been open-minded, preferring to be involved in their children's activities rather than drawing strict lines that could keep them in the dark. This approach reflected their desire to regulate their children's behavior while maintaining a supportive environment.

Alan understood that any potential consequences from their playful behavior wouldn't be severe. His home had always been a safe space for him, a place where he could be himself without fear.

Alan knocked on the bathroom door and entered. They hadn't put in a lock back yet. Fiza was in the shower, with the curtain drawn. "Can I join you, Fiz?" Alan asked hopefully, his playful nature evident.

"Aargh!" Fiza exclaimed, clearly annoyed. "Go away, Alan. Do not get in the shower with me," she insisted, her frustration evident.

Alan chuckled, unfazed by her response. "Can I take a peek?" he asked in jest, well aware that he was pushing her buttons.

Fiza felt herself flushing at his teasing words. She had just shampooed her hair and was in the middle of applying conditioner. "No! I will be really mad at you if you do that," she warned him, her tone emphasizing her seriousness.

Alan, who had probably seen every bit of Fiza's body but in bits and pieces, but never completely naked before, stood still, captivated by her silhouette visible through the shower curtain.

"You still there?" Fiza asked, sensing his continued presence.

"Yeah!" Alan replied with a grin, his playful spirit unbroken.

Fiza's voice turned more exasperated. "Go away! I need to get out soon," she exclaimed, her impatience growing as she waited to finish her shower in peace.

"Fiza, you're distracting me," Alan joked, feigning annoyance as he exited the bathroom to give her privacy. While she got dressed, he occupied himself by working on a song.

Once Fiza was dressed, she joined Alan in the room, and asked, "What song are you working on?" she inquired, her interest piqued.

Alan's gaze lingered on Fiza's form as she entered the room, her skin still glistening from the shower, her wide eyes reflecting the soft light of the room.

Her damp hair framed her face in an alluring way, and the sight of her sent a surge of warmth through him. He took a slow, deliberate breath, feeling his heart race as he soaked in the beauty before him.

As Fiza stood there, his mind seemed to blur, focusing solely on her presence. Her dimples, the way his shirt clung to her curves, the subtle movements as she dried her hair with his towel- everything about her seemed to amplify his longing.

Trying to regain his composure, Alan cleared his throat, his voice husky as he responded to her question. "Like I'm Gonna Lose You by Meghan Trainor," he replied, his voice carrying a low, intimate tone.

Fiza's expression mirrored his own intensity, the air between them charged with a potent energy. "Let's hear it, then," she requested, her gaze locked with his.

Alan took another deep breath, his fingers brushing over the guitar strings as he began to sing.

In the blink of an eye, just a whisper of smoke
You could lose everything, the truth is you never know
So I'll kiss you longer, baby , any chance that I get
I'll make the most of the minutes and love with no regret
Let's take our time to say what we want
Use what we got before it's all gone
'Cause no, we're not promised tomorrow
So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbye
Wherever we're standing I won't take you for granted
'Cause we'll never know when, when we'll run out of time

Fiza's tears flowed freely as she listened to Alan's heartfelt rendition. They didn't know what their future held and they could truly lose everything in the blink if an eye. When the song came to an end, she found herself caught in the depth of his gaze, her heart resonating with the unspoken connection between them. She missed him so much!

As Alan set aside his guitar and turned his attention fully to her, his soft smile held an understanding that transcended words. "I know, I feel the same," he whispered.

He pulled her onto his lap and she closed her eyes, savoring the sensations as he placed soft kisses on her forehead, her nose, and her chin.

His warm breath tickled her skin as he traced the contours of her face with the tip of his nose, sending ripples of sensations through her, her skin responding with heightened sensitivity to his every touch. The feel of his fingers sliding along her arms, the gentle pressure of his hands enveloping hers, all merged into an intimate embrace that transcended the physical.

As he raised her hands to his lips, her heart fluttered wildly, her breath catching at the overwhelming tenderness of the moment.

His kisses were like promises whispered into her skin, affirmations of their shared journey and the depth of their emotions. Fiza felt her own fingers tighten around his, her own affection reflecting in every touch, every heartbeat.

A sudden knock intruded their intimate space and startled both Fiza and Alan. Fiza moved to get up, but Alan gripped her waist firmly, reluctant to let go of her. As the door was yanked open, Fiza's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Alan's calm response to his mother's entrance contrasted with Fiza's unease. "What is it, ma?" he inquired, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Door stays open," his mother declared with a roll of her eyes, as if it were a matter of fact. "And Fiza will stay in Alex's room."

"Okay!" Alan responded with an almost playful sigh, his hands still on Fiza's waist. Before Fiza could react further, his hands cupped her face, drawing her in for a kiss. The warmth of his touch and the sudden intimacy of the kiss made Fiza's heart race, her cheeks growing hotter.

However, she pulled away abruptly, her wide eyes indicating her awareness of the open door. "Alan, the door's open," she murmured anxiously

Alan seemed unfazed, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I don't know why they keep doing this," he mused casually. He placed a swift kiss on her nose, causing Fiza to jump up from his lap, her face flushed even deeper.

During their vacation, Fiza and Alan immersed themselves in their music while Alan also took on the role of teaching Fiza how to ride a bike. Fiza recalled how he loved teaching her. Whether it was basketball, coursework or even work out regimens, he reveled in explaining things to her and was quite a good teacher.

Fiza's willingness to help around the house impressed Alan's parents, particularly with her efforts in making morning and evening tea.

One day, as Fiza and Alan lazed around in Alan's room watching reels from Alan's phone, his hand around her, her head on his chest, Alan's mother entered with a basket of freshly washed clothes. She addressed Alan with a playful glint in her eyes. "If you are going to act like a married couple, I'm not going to be folding your clothes anymore."

Alan, always the negotiator, seized the opportunity, responding with a hopeful tone, "If I do my laundry, can I get my lock back?"

"I'll think about it," his mother replied with a smile, leaving the door open for discussion. Turning to Fiza, Alan asked, "You'll help, right?"

Fiza chuckled, playing along. "I'll show you how, but don't expect me to fold your clothes after we're married." She recalled how he rolled his clothes up and arranged them in his cupboard in the apartment in Manipal.

Alan pretended to pout, earning a playful swat from Fiza. In a lighthearted turn of events, he began tickling her, causing her to fall onto his bed amidst laughter. As he leaned over her, their laughter gave way to a more intimate atmosphere. Their lips met in a soft kiss, igniting a deeper connection between them. When they parted, Alan confessed, "I can never get enough of you."

Embracing the domestic side of life, Alan decided to tackle a new challenge: folding his own clothes. At the age of 24, he was determined to learn this basic skill. After hecompleted this, he felt a sense of accomplishment and went on to clean out his closet, organizing everything meticulously.

To his mother's surprise, when she entered his room and saw him engrossed in the task, she exchanged a knowing glance with Fiza and gave her an approving thumbs up, prompting a shared laughter between the two women.

Their lighthearted moments took a somber turn when an unfortunate piece of news interrupted their activities. Alan and Fiza had just returned from a walk when Alan's mother called for him to sit down.

With a serious tone, she began to speak, "Alan, Ammachi is not well. She has COVID, and she's struggling with breathing difficulties. The doctor has told us that she also has fluid accumulation in her lungs, and her kidneys are not working properly."

Alan's face drained of color as he absorbed the severity of the situation.

Fiza held onto his hand tightly, providing him with a comforting presence.

When they were alone, Alan shared his deep concern with Fiza. "She's over 70, hypertensive, and diabetic, Fiza," he voiced his fears, knowing that Fiza would understand the high-risk nature of his grandmother's condition given the COVID-19 infection.

"I need to go see her," Alan decided, his determination unwavering.

Fiza, however, pointed out the potential risks involved. "Alan, you might not be allowed to see her, and even if you manage to, you'll have to quarantine afterward," she cautioned, worried about his health and the safety of his family.

"I'll quarantine separately," Alan responded resolutely. He buried his face in her chest, seeking comfort from her presence.

Fiza gently kissed his head and stroked his hair soothingly.

"I'll go with you. She's at Apex Hospital, right? Nita works there now. Let's see if she can arrange for us to have PPE so we can visit. We'll pack our bags and head straight to Manipal, alright?" Fiza suggested, thinking of a plan that would minimize the risk of exposing Alan's family to any potential infection.

Alan nodded in agreement, grateful for Fiza's support and her practical approach.

"Ammachi!" Alan's voice carried warmth and affection, despite being muffled by the mask he wore as he entered her hospital room.

Fiza followed a few steps behind him, her heart heavy as she observed Ammachi's condition. She was on 6 liters of oxygen and appeared weak and fragile.

The corners of Ammachi's tired eyes crinkled as she managed a weary smile upon seeing Alan. "Is that you, mone?"

Fiza observed this exchange, her heart aching for the family's plight.

Alan gently took Ammachi's hands in his, his own eyes glistening. "Yes, Ammachi, it's me," he reassured her in Malayalam, his voice laced with emotion.

Ammachi's voice, though soft, held urgency as she spoke. "Mone, please tell them I don't want to be on a machine, okay. If I die, just let me go. I'm ready to meet Jesus."

Alan's heart seemed to shatter as he responded, "Ammachi, don't talk like that. I love you, Ammachi."

Curiosity sparked in Ammachi's eyes as she tried to identify the person standing beside Alan. "Is that a nurse with you, Alan?" she questioned, trying to get a better view of Fiza.

Fiza stepped forward, her heart a mix of emotions. "Ammachi, it's me, Fiza," she introduced herself, her voice gentle and soothing. Alan's surprise was evident as he watched this interaction unfold.

Tears welled in Ammachi's eyes upon recognizing Fiza. "Fiza, you remember what you promised me?" Ammachi alluded to a past conversation where she had asked Fiza to baptize their unborn child.

Fiza's voice was soft and reassuring as she knelt by Ammachi's bed. "Yes, Ammachi, I haven't forgotten," she affirmed.

"Then I can give you my blessing, and die in peace," she stated, her voice carrying a mix of sadness and acceptance.

Alan's plea was heartrending. "Ammachi, please don't talk like that. I'm going to pray for you to come out of this..."

However, Ammachi's resolution was unwavering. "Alan, mone, I'm ready to go. Just pray that I don't suffer," she expressed.

Alan nodded.

**********************************************
Authors note:

I really loved Ammachi. She was a typical Malayali Christian woman - her actions torn between her love for her grandson, the importance of maintaining the family's reputation and her faith.

Tell me what you think of this chapter and as always please vote.

Link to my favorite duet cover of Like I'm gonna lose you.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

If you have made it this far, thank you. Thank you for reading.

Love,
Faiza