Lessons in Love

"I'm a lost cause. You should know that upfront."

Rukhsana sat in the driver's seat, hands death-gripping the wheel. At forty, she was finally doing what her ex-husband had said she couldn't—learning to drive.

Her instructor, Naveed, smiled patiently. "I've never lost a student. Why would you be the first?"

"I failed theory three times. My children have given up."

"Theory is memorization. Driving is feeling." He gestured at the empty car park. "Let's start simple."

Lessons with Naveed became her weekly highlight.

He was patient when she stalled, calm at roundabouts, encouraging with three-point turns. And he looked at her in ways no one had in years.

"You're improving," he said after her twelfth lesson. "You should book your test."

"I'm not ready."

"You're more ready than you think." His hand covered hers on the gear stick. "Why won't you let yourself succeed?"

The question cut deep.

"My ex always said I wasn't capable. Of anything." She stared ahead. "Twenty years of that... it stays."

"My ex said I was too boring to love." His smile was sad. "I understand."

Their eyes met.

"You're not boring," she whispered.

"You're more than capable." His voice was rough. "We're both more than what they said."

She passed her test first attempt.

Rukhsana stared at the certificate, stunned. "I passed."

"I told you." Naveed was beaming.

She hugged him impulsively—and neither pulled away.

"Naveed..."

"I know I shouldn't. You were my student. But I've wanted—" He laughed helplessly. "I've wanted this for weeks."

"Then stop talking."

She kissed him.

At his flat, Naveed took his time.

"We're not rushing," he said, laying her on his bed. "I want to appreciate every part of you."

"I'm not young anymore—"

"You're perfect." He kissed down her body, pausing at every spot she'd been criticized for. "Perfect for me."

He made love to her with patience—building pleasure until she trembled. When she came, it was with his name on her lips.

"Good tears?" he asked softly, seeing her cry.

"The best kind." She pulled him up. "Your turn."

"My children will have questions," Rukhsana said afterward. "Mom's driving instructor?"

"Tell them I passed you on merit. Mostly true." He grinned, then sobered. "I want to try something real. If you'll let me."

"Try what?"

"Everything. Dates. Families. Whatever comes."

She kissed him. They both knew what it meant.

Six months later, Rukhsana drove herself to her son's graduation. Naveed sat in the passenger seat, where he belonged.

He'd taught her to drive. She'd taught him to love again.

Fair exchange.