One-3

She turned on her heels and faced me, " Exactment- You are absolutely right!Say, I am walking with you, or perhaps my father has introduced us, but you don't ask me any question, as if I am inferior than an insect. Neither do I ask you anything, as if you are homeless or a nobody. In fact, it is rude in our culture to not ask someone these questions"

I replied, "Same goes for my country's culture."

She promptly asked, "Which country?"

I said, " Doesn't my appearance give away that I am from Hindustan?"

Her response was, " As if! Hindustani people can't speak French!"

I retorted, "Suppose every Kabuli speaks French!"

Her outburst of giggle stopped short as she twisted her ankle. She cried, " I can't walk any more. I am not used to wearing high heels. Lets go over to that side of the Tennis court. There's a bench there to sit."

The darkness was pitch black. Far, very far away, an electric light tries its best to push the darkness away. We had to approach the Tennis court following a thin strip of path. I excused myself, as my arm brushed against her in carelessness, " Pardon, please excuse me.".

She couldn't stop giggling. Said, " Your French is so weird. So is your Persian."

I felt young blood in my veins that wanted to protest her. I started, " Mademoiselle..."

"My name is Shabnam."

I immediately admitted defeat. A girl with such a pretty name has every right to tell me whatever the hell she wants.