The Night Market
"Aliya runs a stall at London's Pakistani night market every weekend. When restaurant scout Farhan keeps coming back for her cooking—and her smile—she wonders if success might look different than she imagined."
The Night Market
"Your biryani is the best I've tasted in London."
Aliya looked up from her stall. The man had been here three weekends running, always ordering the same thing.
"You've said that before."
"Still true." Farhan smiled. "I'm a restaurant scout. I know food."
"And you're scouting me?"
"I'm eating your cooking. The scouting is a bonus."
He kept coming—beyond professional interest.
They'd talk between customers, sharing stories of food and family. He learned about her grandmother's recipes, her dream of a permanent restaurant, her fear of losing the authenticity that made her cooking special.
"You wouldn't lose anything," he said. "You'd just reach more people."
"Easy for you to say."
"Let me prove it." He took her hand. "One meeting. With investors who understand Pakistani cuisine. If you hate it, we never speak again."
"And if I don't hate it?"
"Then we keep talking." His eyes held something more than professional interest. "About everything."
The meeting went well. But what came after was better.
Alone in her test kitchen, celebrating her new backing, Farhan finally closed the distance.
"This was always more than business," he admitted.
"I know." She kissed him. "I was waiting for you to catch up."
He made love to her surrounded by her grandmother's spices—the scents of home and new beginnings mixing.
"Meri jaan," Farhan breathed, moving inside her. "You're more than I was looking for."
"That sounds like a bad Yelp review."
"It's a lifelong commitment." He grinned. "Five stars. Would invest again."
"This complicates the investor relationship," Aliya said afterward.
"I'm not your investor. They are." He pulled her close. "I'm just the man who found you first."
"And who wants to stay?"
"Forever." He kissed her forehead. "Build your restaurant, Aliya. I'll be at the corner table. Always."
The restaurant opened to rave reviews—her grandmother's recipes, finally permanent.
The corner table was reserved every night—"Family."
Best customer she ever had.