When Life Gives You Lemons (Sun Tower, #1)

by Noor Sasha

I grip the bar and crush it in my fist before tossing it out the window. “That’s littering!” “No, Nuisance. Littering is when I toss you out of the car.” I chuck a Kleenex at her face before she can react and gesture at the smudged window. “Not a single smudge.” Alina rolls her eye, mutters, “Dickhead,” and begins wiping at the glass.

“You ruined my appetizer, so now you’re obligated to feed me. I’m craving Sultan’s chicken shawarma. No pickles, no radishes, no tomatoes, no hummus. And make sure you put the fries inside it.” “That doesn’t qualify as a shawarma, Nuisance.” “I’m a picky eater.” “Well, there’s a lot for you to pick and eat from our kitchen.”

NO PICKLES- UR HURTING MY PICKLE LOVIBG SOUL GO COOK AND STFU 😔😔😔😔😔

Your rank is probably somewhere in the lower echelons.” Azeer’s intense gaze bores into mine, his tantalizing smirk erasing his previous blankness. “Yet, I was the one you married,” he says, his voice deep and resonant. I try to conceal the sound of my racing heart with a loud huff. “Bad luck.” Azeer cups the nape of my neck and pulls me forward. I stand—sit—my ground, challenging him headstrong, but the heat radiating from him is almost too much to bear. Our faces are so close that his breath caresses my lips. “Do not for a second underestimate me, Azlan. Do not compare me to your past lovers or any other man you’ve crossed paths with. Because in my building, under my roof, the only name I expect to leave this stupid mouth of yours is mine.” His dark-brown eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. “Are we clear, Alina?” he asks, his voice sending a low rumble in my belly. “Clear, Azeer.”

It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m practically drooling over the delicious meal that my oh-so-considerate husband generously paid for. And by “generously paid for,” I mean I tried to pay with my expired card, only to have Azeer reluctantly step in and grumble about it while swiping his own card. What a sweetheart.

slayed

“I can’t move all of that by myself! You should know I lose all my feminism when it comes to lifting heavy stuff.” I stomp up the three steps that lead into the kitchen. “Then beg.” He turns swiftly, hands in the pocket of his trousers. I’m convinced this man has a fear of jeans or casual clothes. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. Want my help carrying your garbage to our room? Get on your knees and beg for it.” I want to punch him so hard he’ll be shaking hands with the devil. “You want me to beg you? Who do you think you are? Leader of the Bravta?” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “You said you lost your feminism, so.”

“Thank you, Asseer. I had a blast reorganizing my precious stuff in our room. It’s starting to look less like an IKEA showroom and more . . . animated.” He blanches. “No.” “Oh, yes.” I lick the sweet, tangy frosting off my thumb. “Should’ve lent a hand when I asked.”

“God, I do love making you angry, Asseer.”

Alina was put on this earth to destroy my peace of mind. She’s diabolical and utterly disorganized. I can’t stand her constant whining. I hate how she becomes so animated when she speaks. I hate what she’s done to our room and how close she already is to Zoha.” My irritation towards that five-foot-five woman overflows. “Her face is just— I don’t know! I can’t stand it. I don’t like how her eyes are so big and brown. I don’t like the seven different sounds of her laughter. I don’t even like her floral fabric softener, cocoa butter scent.” I jab my finger in Vee’s direction. “And I don’t like her one bit.”

mhhmmmmmm continue please😩

“Or maybe you don’t like her because you’re scared of how much you might end up loving her.”

“What do you say? Can we do that? For her?” I nod slowly, feeling the weight of my anger and resentment lift a little. My palm cups her cheek and pushes it aside. “Sentiments don’t suit you, Nuisance.” “You’re such an ass!” Alina shoves my back, making me pick up my pace ahead. Despite my desire to curse her out, my grin betrays me.

“With the help of a few connections, both mine and Abbu’s, I managed to have the school shut down within seventy-two hours. And as for those boys, I made sure their family’s tech and security businesses faced severe consequences.” I tip my chin up. Smile. “Father of the century.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Asseer. Once we settle things with Zoha, we return to our knives and swords.” “As if I could forget, Nuisance.”

“I’m sure you had a certain animated character to keep you warm,” Azeer mutters impassively. “Oh, yes, Levi Ackerman brings me tremendous pleasure,” I reply with a grin. Azeer’s face contorts with disgust. “Never say the word ‘pleasure’ again. It’s absurd when it comes from your mouth.” “Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure—” He cuts me off with a hand over my mouth before I can continue.

“Are you okay?” simultaneously. I blink at him. “I’m okay. Are you okay?” “Fine.” Azeer inspects me closely, leaning forward on his forearms and tilting his head. “What happened here?” His fingers tap at the side of his neck. “Where did your birthmark go?” “My—” Oh. I gather my hair to the side, revealing the hidden spot. “I covered it with concealer. It’s not very pretty, so . . .” “That’s not true,” he responds almost instinctively. “I mean, it’s—it’s a part of you, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” He settles back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Don’t cover it from now on.”

😩❤️‍🩹

“Guy friend?” I inquire, my attention drifting back to the road. Somewhat. A smirk plays at the corners of her lips. “Why do you care?” Yeah, why do you care, Azeer?

I sneak a peek at him through my lashes as he grumbles and curses under his breath, meticulously cleaning each of my fingers. My husband is a walking paradox.

“Did you just finish working out?” “At least your vision isn’t half as blurry as the rest of your senses,” he responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Careful with that attitude, or I’ll give you blurry vision with my fist.” I pretend to throw a punch at his face. But he doesn’t even flinch. “I only asked because you smell like gym socks.” Not really. To be honest, it actually draws me in closer— “Dispose of that.” He thrusts the balled-up paper towel into my hand. “Anyway, as I was saying, we have a problem.” “Don’t care. Look at this!” “Nui—” “Ta-da!” I swing open our refrigerator doors, which we call Pandora’s box. “I’ve stocked up for the dawat next week.”

His mouth curves up into a grin of approval. “Not bad, Nuisance. You’re using that brain of yours for once.”

“You know, for someone who always calls me a nuisance, you seem to enjoy my company quite a bit,” I tease, batting my lashes and pursing my lips. “Could it be that you find me comforting, Dr. Khan?”

“Go to hell,” he growls. “Ladies first, sweetheart.” I give his ass a good kick with my foot. He staggers forward, then turns, ready to strike. On cue, Zoha’s bedroom door swings open upstairs, and she gets on her tippy-toes to grab the railing and look down at us with a grin. “Homework’s fin— What are you guys doing?” Her smile fades into a frown. Shit. “We were just telling each other how much we love one another.” I nervously glance up at him, wondering if he’ll crush me like a grape in his tight, sweaty embrace. “Right, meri jaan?” I add, giving him a painful pinch on the back. Azeer grits his teeth, clearly not amused. “Yes, of course. That’s exactly what we were doing. Just being affectionate like any happy, healthy couple.”

HAH 🛐

“You need to take a shower,” I hiss, wiping the moisture off with the back of my hand. “Me?” He snorts, pointing at my hair. “Nuisance, if the oil industry ever tanks, they can use your hair to squeeze out the last drop.” I bristle at his offensive comment. “Excuse me?” “Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but the Middle East is on the line, and they’re asking for their primary resource back,”

NOOOOSNSNSN😭😭😭😭😭

At this rate, my skin feels like it could be used as a lighter for his cigarette, the mere thought sending electrical bolts down my backbone.

I can’t help but picture him taking a long drag, his lips wrapped around the filter as he exhales a cloud of smoke. My dark days of endlessly scrolling through Tumblr and reblogging every known edit of Alex Turner smoking still linger deep in my bloodstream. It’s torture, really.

break my back like a glowstick daddy

“You sure you wanna touch my oil-infested hair, Dr. Khan?” A muscle tenses in his jaw, and his eyes turn darker by the second. The air around us becomes charged with tension, making it hard to breathe. It feels as though the kitchen has become smaller. Tighter. Hotter. All at once. My senses flare with his scent, and I’m reminded of how close I am to the front of his hips. “This is a very dangerous angle,” he murmurs, his voice low and salacious. His fingers thread through my hair with a gentle touch that’s almost too much to handle. I bite down the inside of my cheek, trying to stifle the moan that’s threatening to escape. Fuck knows how I manage to gather my wits. “I’m sure you’re not used to it.” He chuckles, the sound sending vibrations through my body. “Assumptions, assumptions. Though, I’m sure you’re used to this position.”

BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARKKKSJEDJEJ👹👹👹👹👹👹

“Assumptions, assumptions.” Suddenly, he surprises me with a lopsided grin, and I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through my body. “Don’t do that, Alina,” he mutters. My eyes flick up to meet his, and I find myself lost in those mesmerizing brown—almost black—eyes. “Do what?” I whisper, my voice hardly audible. “Throw my words back in my face,” he replies, his gaze never leaving mine. “It fucks with me, and I don’t like it.”

“I warned you, Nuisance. It’s a dangerous angle. I suggest you keep that mouth of yours under control.” My eyes lock onto his, and I can feel the heat rising between us. I taunt him, craving his response, needing to hear those words spill from his lips. “Or what?” I want him to give me a little taste of the action. I need it. To hell with the consequences. Tighter. His grip grows tighter. The veins in his arm bulged with the effort of holding back. I can see the apprehension in his every muscle, the damp black tendrils of his hair mingling with his thick, flickering lashes. I lean in, my breath hot against the knot of his sweatpants, and whisper, “Pussy.” A ghost of a smirk plays across my lips as I watch his resolve crumble. He steps back, fingers raking through his hair as he tries to regain his composure. “Behave yourself,” he whispers before turning on his heel and jogging up the stairs. And as I watch him go, I realize that those contractor ladies were onto something. He really does have a nice ass.

“Why on Earth would I want to put miles on my precious Cullinan for you?” Azeer snorts, his laugh both sexy and aggravatingly pathetic at the same time. I shoot him a look of disdain. “And why would I share my late-night playlists with you?” He rolls his eyes and begins typing a response, his usual whining and judgemental tone on display. “Let’s be real here, Nuisance. Your taste in music is hands-down one of the worst things about you. Do you even understand Korean or Japanese?” “That’s rich coming from someone who listens to Gregorian chants.” Azeer shrugs nonchalantly. “Sue me for attending a Catholic high school.”

“The sooner we get this over with, the better. Come here.” I raise an eyebrow and challenge him. “You come here.” He shakes his head, unyielding. “You don’t get to pull that move twice. Get your ass down here now,” he commands.

dads chill

“What about the third date?” “Hmm, hmm, hmm.” I tap my chin, an innocent gesture that seems to irritate him. “How about candle making? We can create scents inspired by each other. It could be fun, don’t you think?” “Wow, Nuisance.” He exhales into a sympathetic, incredibly mocking smile. “On a scale of ‘not at all’ to ‘I need professional help,’ how lonely are you?”

🫠🫠🫠🫠

“This . . . is a very dangerous angle, isn’t it?” “Alina—” “You like that, don’t you?” I repeat his earlier words, savouring the delicious taste of them on my lips. “Throwing your words back in your face. It fucks with you, but I know you enjoy it.”

“Did I say something wrong?” “No. You’re perfect,” she replies softly. “So perfect.” I can’t help but feel touched by her compliment. “That’s so sweet of you, my butterfly. You’re the most perfect of them all. And I know ‘perfect-est’ isn’t a word, but for you, I’ll say and do anything to make you smile.” Zoha nibbles on her lower lip, her gaze searching for reassurance. “Um, can I— Is it okay if I can call you ‘Mama’?” There it is. A rush of joy floods my heart, and I can’t stop the wide smile from spreading. “Of course, you can, Zoha! I’d be honoured if you did. You don’t need to ask me for permission to call me that. You already feel like my daughter, and I love you just as much as if you always were.” “You do?” “I do.” With that, I rise from my seat and quietly shut the bathroom door behind me. Quickly undressing, I sit into the tub beside her, pulling her close into a warm embrace. “From now on, you’re officially stuck with me as your mom. Did you know you’ve called me that a few times already?” “I have?” My palms embrace her soft, apple cheeks. “You’ve said ‘Ammi’ twice now, and I fell in love with you each time. So, please, call me Mama. Or Ammi. Or whatever else you’d like. I won’t take no for an answer.”

🥹❤️‍🩹

promise I’ll be the best daughter ever!” “You could never let me down, butterfly. I promise to be the best of the best mother to you, too.”

“Lace my shoes,” my wife demands, throwing her leg on my lap after I finish up with mine. “Not too tight.” “If Zoha can tie her laces”—I slip the shoe off her foot and toss it aside, narrowly avoiding a teenage girl walking by—“so can you, Nuisance.” She grits her adorable, square teeth. “There’s a special place in hell for men like you, Asseer.” “As long as it isn’t next to you.”

“So, I’m assuming your Ph.D. is just a decorative piece of paper in your office, Dr. Khan?” Dr. Khan. It has a certain peculiarity to it, especially when she says it. I can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but it always catches me off guard.

Her doe-eyes sparkle in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Dimples. Sweet fuck, those dimples could bring a sinner to his knees. “Don’t ruin this for me.” I nod because . . . dimples.

“Look, I really don’t want our relationship to become a dramatic romance novel where the characters could easily resolve their issues by just talking to each other like mature adults. So, with that being said, can we just skip the whole miscommunication arc and have a simple conversation?” More fucking silence. I begin whining, which is the last of all my humiliating resorts, marching in place with my arms dangling by my sides. “Please, please, please!” Azeer slams his laptop shut and tosses it to the side, finally giving me his undivided attention. “Talk,”

“Okay, hi, hello. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you making fun of me or calling me Nuisance?” “Because there are times when I don’t feel like speaking.” “But you spoke to Zoha.” “She’s my daughter.” “And I’m your wife,” I remind him, trying to keep my tone light but firm. “We’re partners in crime, and that includes sharing our thoughts and feelings with each other. You don’t have to ask me about every detail of my day, but I’d like to know how you’re doing. We can’t just rely on surface-level conversations all the time.”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Fuck?” I raise an eyebrow in amusement. “Fuck—off.” He pushes my face aside and stands. And that’s when I know Azeer Khan has returned. “Feeling better? Did my dimples cure you, Dr. Khan?” “Get dressed, Nuisance.” He pauses at the threshold of the bathroom, then turns back to add, “And get rid of the braids. You look better with your hair down.” My lips pinch into a smile. “Oh, my.” I cuff my hands behind my back, batting my lashes at his stone-cold countenance. The sound of my fake giggling seems to only make him more furious. “Was that a compliment?” He slams the door in my face. I throw my head back, laughing. “Missed you too, asshole. And our conversation isn’t over. I will get you to spill the beans while we’re on the trampolines. Also, that rhymed.”

HES BACKKKKK🥹🥹😩🛐

“Because you love us.” She flashes a sweet smile at her father. “I love you, yes.” He casts a critical eye on me. “Her? Not so much.” “What?” Zoha’s voice cracks, her sassy exterior crumbling at his response. “You don’t love Mama?” “Yeah, Azeer.” I mimic her pout. “You don’t love Mama?”

LEAVE UT TO ZOHA TO PLAY MATCHMAKER 🥹🥹🫶🏼🫶🏼

Two against one, Azeer Khan. Two against one.” I hold up my index finger for further emphasis, my face forming into a pout. “Well, unless you count his twins. But Zoha can take care of kicking their asses. She’s our daughter, after all.” His eyebrows raise, and his dark brown eyes dart back and forth like a child receiving candy. But then he quickly crushes it with a cold stare and offers me his shattered pieces. I step back when he stands, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, and holy fuck, if that isn’t the most attractive thing you’ve ever witnessed, Alina. “You in, Asseer?” “All in, Nuisance.” My adrenaline spikes. “Let’s put him in a coma!” I clench my fist, relishing the idea of revenge. “A mild concussion should do.” Azeer gives me a playful pat on the cheek and strides toward the starting line, flexing his powerful back muscles. Fuck, he’s so delicious when he’s mad.

THIS- THEY ARE SO DELICIOUSSKSKSKS

“What the hell are you doing here, then?” “Looking out for you.”

“Azeer Khan!” Alina’s voice rings through the playground, and I feel that gravitational pull to reality again. She swiftly turns around, fully facing me. I avert my gaze. “Look at me,” she commands. “I can’t.” “Look. At. Me.” Rubbing my hands over my eyes, I slowly peel them open and find my devil-may-care wife glowering at me. “Keep looking forward, Azeer.” The way she pronounces my name sounds precisely like sharpening knives together. It makes the muscles in my body stiffen. “There’s so much you’ll miss out on if you don’t look forward. An intelligent, beautiful daughter who’s growing up right before your eyes. An adorable wife with severe mental issues who you didn’t ask for but received anyway. It won’t always be easy, but you’ll eventually reach new heights if you keep moving forward.

🥹🥹🥹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“Hey?” I lift my gaze to meet soft brown doe-eyes. “You’re not alone, Azeer.” Alina’s voice is gentle yet firm, her hand outstretched toward me. “You need to know that every version of you, in every universe, is not alone. Not anymore.”

ohmygod 🥹😭😭

Candle-making has always been among my top three favourite date ideas, with stargazing coming in second and book shopping being the ultimate contender, obviously.

“You want to know what I think, Nuisance?” Azeer stops in his tracks and checks his surroundings before sparing me his undivided attention. The heat in my cheeks intensifies. “I think there’s something about you that’s just . . . impossible to ignore.” His gaze travels from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. “It’s fucking unfair, Alina, and yet, I can’t even be mad about it.”

“Come here. I need to smell you.” “Why?” he asks, looking slightly confused. “Because we’re going to make candles inspired by each other, remember?” Azeer hesitates for a moment but then takes a step forward. I lean in to take a whiff of his torso, but there’s not much to catch—just hints of something masculine and expensive. “Here, try this angle,” he suggests, leaning down so that my nose is just inches from the side of his neck. “Better?” I gulp in a deep breath. “Yes,” I reply, my voice a little shaky. “Hurry up. My back hurts.” “Old man,” I mutter, inhaling the scent of his skin. God. My vivid imagination immediately spreads like wildfire to my insides. His scent is . . . dark. Mysterious. Like a cavern hidden beneath the surface of a crystal-blue lagoon. As I step inside, the spicy, coastal air envelops me, stirring my senses. I light a fire, watching the flames dance as the smell of burning wood calms my nerves. But it’s not enough. I need something tangible. I need to feel his warmth against my skin. To be consumed by his soft, large hands and full, smooth lips. I want to surrender to the fire completely.

“Did you use my card?” He tilts his head when he notices the little bob in my throat. “I did.” A smirk. “Good girl.”

“Apologies, Cecilia. My husband doesn’t quite grasp the concept of being gentle.” “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mumbles, his words meant only for my ears.

He hasn’t even touched me, yet my body reacts with an alarming amount of goosebumps to his presence by the door.

Alina Azlan-Khan definitely has a thing for me. And shamefully, I have one for her, too.