Insanely insane
Before she could respond, he walked out toward the quieter corner of the store, phone pressed to his ear, his brows furrowed in irritation.
Timtim, oblivious, continued browsing. She found herself standing in front of a tall shelf stacked with spiral-bound notebooks, the top row filled with ones she liked the most — soft pastel covers with golden lettering. She tiptoed, stretching her hand, but they were too high. She bit her lip, glancing around helplessly.
And then, a voice she hadn’t expected broke through.
“Need help?”
She turned and froze.
Ishtiyaq Khan.
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