I bolt into my room, unable to manage the hate wrecking me from inside, shattering my entire possession on myself leaving me with nothing but hate. Only hate.
I hate how she lodges my mind, as if she clutches the remote control to send me up the wall. After the bitter moment we shared in that haunted place, I've succeeded in avoiding the gaze of Ayra for I knew that after this time I loathe her more than before. The painful remnants of the past stings harder than before.
As I ran into Ayra today, I couldn't control myself to trail my hand over the cupboard I've sealed forever. One of the reasons that tops the list of "why I hate Ayra". The ridiculous role she played yesterday, cost me more than just my dream college; it cost me myself, the only thing that reminded me of happiness.
She shouldn't have met me. Not today. It's the day I lost myself, the day when Ayra's words act as fuel to my already burning fire.
With jittery hands, I finally reach out to the cupboard shielding a broken piece of mine from this world. I gradually open the compartment revealing a broken guitar.
A tear drifts from my eyes as the painful memory floods my mind, isn't it ironic how the pain still stings raw parallel to before? The metallic taste of blood still remains on my tongue.
It's like the day just happened now; I still remember it. This sharp saw of dad's words tearing my heart apart, the disappointing gaze of mom cursing me. Somewhere between trying to become the Zaid they wanted me to be, I lost the Zaid who loved this guitar.
My fingers tremble as they trace the fractured wood, the strings hanging loosely, no longer capable of producing the sounds that once filled my world with joy.
AUTHOR'S POV
FLASHBACK
A much younger Zaid, no more than fifteen, sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his small fingers dancing over the strings of his guitar, each note filling the space with a melody that was uniquely his. This was his sanctuary, the only place where he felt truly at peace. The guitar was more than just an instrument; it was his escape, his solace from the world that demanded too much of him. Today it was his only way to wash out the pain of the insult he bore for something he never did. Zaid was ready with his explanation as soon as his father arrived, however for now he shut his eyes and let the music heal his heart while singing in his melodious voice.
But that peace was abruptly shattered when the door burst open, revealing his father, Haris Mirza, a man whose very presence commanded authority. His fatherâs eyes blazed with an anger that Zaid had never seen before, and his heart sank as he realized that his father was in a terrible mood.
"You disgrace the Mirza name!" his father thundered, his voice echoing off the walls. "You were supposed to be the perfect heir, Zaid. But this... this is how you repay the legacy Iâve built? With this insult?"
Little Zaid scrambled to his feet, the guitar clattering to the floor as he hurried to his fatherâs side. "Dad, itâs not my fault," he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear and confusion. "I didnât mean toâ"
But his father wasnât listening. The words of a fifteen-year-old were meaningless in the face of his fatherâs rage. Haris's face twisted with disdain, his gaze boring into his son with a look of such disappointment that it made Zaidâs blood run cold. His mother stood in the doorway, her eyes filled with shame, as if she could no longer bear to look at the son she had once been so proud of.
"Not your fault?" his father spat, his hand striking Zaid across the face with such force that the boy stumbled backward, tasting blood as his lip split from the impact. The sting of the slap was nothing compared to the pain of seeing the contempt in his fatherâs eyes, the feeling of being utterly worthless in the eyes of the man he had always looked up to.
Tears welled in Zaidâs eyes as he clutched his cheek, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldnât give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
The only person who didnât look at him with disdain was his Aunt Nadia, who had rushed into the room, followed by his cousins Ayan, Rayan, and Ahad. They stood behind her, their faces pale with worry as they watched the scene unfold.
Mirza Haris turned on his heel and stormed past Zaid, but he wasnât done yet. He returned moments later, holding Zaidâs guitar in his hands. Zaidâs heart dropped to his stomach as he realized what was about to happen.
"This," his father snarled, holding up the guitar, "this is the reason you cheated. You were supposed to focus on your studies, on becoming the heir to the Mirza empire. But instead, you wasted your time with this... this nonsense!"
Zaidâs eyes widened in horror as he realized what his father was about to do. "No, Dad, please!" he cried, rushing forward in a desperate attempt to save his beloved guitar. "Please, donât! I swear It's not my fault, Iâll do anything to make you believe, just please donât break it!"
But his pleas fell on deaf ears. With a final look of disgust, his father raised the guitar high above his head and brought it crashing down onto the floor. The sound of the wood splintering echoed through the room, and Zaid screamed in anguish as the instrument was reduced to nothing more than a pile of broken pieces.
Zaid dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he tried to gather the shattered remnants of his guitar. His father stood over him, his expression cold and unfeeling as he watched his son break down.
"This is the price of failure, Zaid," his father said, his voice hard as stone. "This is what happens when you forget who you are and where you come from. Remember this pain, because itâs the only way youâll ever learn. Remember you are Zaid Mirza! Stay true to your last name"
With that, his father turned and walked away, leaving Zaid alone in the wreckage of his dreams. Aunt Nadia knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him as he clutched the broken pieces of his guitar, sobbing uncontrollably. His cousins stood behind them, their faces filled with a mix of sadness and helplessness as they watched the boy they loved so dearly crumble under the weight of his fatherâs cruelty.
From that day on, Zaidâs life was never the same. The joy he once found in music was gone, replaced by a burning hatred for the world that had taken it away from him, leaving a Zaid that engrossed himself in his books to prove himself worthy of Mirza name. At the center of that hatred was Ayra, the girl who, in his mind, was responsible for it all. He never cared to hear her side of the story, never wanted to know the truth. All he knew was that she had been there that day, she knew the truth yet put allegations on me, and that was enough to label her as the enemy. He vowed to never sing again.
Back to Zaid's pov
As I stand in front of the cupboard, staring down at the broken guitar, the memories floods back, each one cutting deeper than the last. The hatred for Ayra is as strong as ever, a twisted knot in my chest that refused to loosen. She was the reason I had lost everything, and for that, I would never forgive her.
I swear to ruin her dreams by being the one who receives all the admiration, all the dreams she has ever thought about. Ayra shaikh, I swear you'd pay for everything.
à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹
Striding down the hallway, I pass by the room where everyone gathers for evening tea, chess games and the endless gossips that I've grown accustomed to. But today, something- rather someone catches my attention.
I pause at the doorway, leaning against it. Ayra is sitting on my favorite chair, idly fidgeting her fingers with the pawns of chess. Imprinting the knowledge that I hate someone touching my belongings, no one in this house mess with my things. But today instead of bolting inside the room and asking her to leave the seat, I'm leaning against the doorframe and striving to untangle her mystery.
She walks around with an unwavering personality of a strong lady, who doesn't give a damn about anyone however, I can't help but notice the void in her grey eyes. It feels like the storms inside her needs to calm down, a story that awaits to be heard.
I internally curse myself for pondering such things about Ayra! She's not vulnerable but arrogant about achieving everything. I hate her, I shouldn't be focusing on her eyes or attempting to resolve her mystery.
she glances up and spots me. Her eyes widen, and she immediately lets out a sharp yell, almost dropping one of the chess pawns in her hand.
I squint my eyes and rub my ears "Uff, chilla kyun Rahi ho? Sheesha dekh Liya Kya?" I affirm as I watch her fumble to compose herself.
(Why are you shouting? Did you see a mirror?)
She narrows her eyes at me, her list turning into a scowl "No, but I did see your reflection which was horrifying enough"
I scoff clearly getting annoyed by the speed at which she appears with sassy comebacks "this way you talk back is something that greatly annoys me"
She gives her eyes a good roll and sarcastically mutters "just like I'm in love with your sweet talking"
"Gosh you're such a poisonous girl"
A single remark slips from my tongue and all the nerves of Ayra heats up, the scowl on her face deepens "oh if I'm that poisonous than why don't you eat me and die!" She yells out and attempts to storm out of the room but I halt her movement by blocking her way through my arm. My arm presses against the doorframe as I cage her tiny figure, a smirk plays on my lips "sure. Where would you like me to eat you sweetheart? My bedroom or right here?"
Her eyes widenes in surprise and I'd be lying if I neglect noticing the faint shade of blush on her cheeks. I tilt my head slightly leaning closer to her face "are you blushing Ayra Shaikh?"
"You can stop fantasizing Zaid Mirza. Why do you love pinning me against everything?!" I couldn't resist the urge to chuckle and continue getting under her skin and the scowl on her face intensifies the urge. "Because you're my favorite opponent"
She puffs in frustration and closes the gap between us, a fiery glare in her eyes. A smirk tugs on my lips witnessing her tiny brave gesture knowing perfectly well that Ayra Shaikh is rephrased version of a silent storm "I hate you Zaid"
"Do you practice it Infront of the mirror daily Ayra?" I spit out, my tone am impeccable balance between anger and frustration, FYI she's still pinned by me. At this rate even I'm unable to untangle the strings to decipher, why do I never miss the chance to pin her against anything?
"I don't even need to practice when your hateful face is Infront of me" I tilt my head, our faces just inches apart, my smirk faltering just a bit "was I supposed to laugh at that?"
She tilts her head slightly, a cruel smile playing on her lips "wait for that. I haven't started talking about your future yet"
If it wasn't Ayra who came up with this retort, I would've drowned in admiration for such a savage tongue however I'd just play it cool for now.
She yanks my arms, clearing her way nonetheless I'm aware of the tactics that I can utilize to drive her insane. I convey through my shoulder "the pawns you were using was not kid's game"
I grin mischievously knowing how bruised Ayra's ego will be after listening these words. If there's one thing that she can't bear, it's telling her that she doesn't fill the eligiblity to carry something out- that's she's incapable. I can imagine her clenching her jaw and cursing me right now "please I can beat you with my eyes closed"
"Who are you trying to convince Ayra?"
"I don't try anything Mirza, if I do something I get it"
"Oh that's so? Then beat me in this game shaikh"
The next thing my eyes witness is sitting across him, the chessboard between us like a battlefield, the air crackles with tension. Zaid's ever-present smirk taunts me, as if daring me to make a move. It's infuriating, knowing damn well that he's planning to stay three steps ahead of me. But I'm not some casual opponent he plays chess with, I'm Ayra Shaikh- capable to beat him.
I start with a simple pawn, pushing it forward, claiming the center. His response is immediate, mirroring my move. Weâre both being cautious, feeling out the board, but I know this calm wonât last. Weâre both strategizing, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
I can't help but steal some glances of Zaid as he's engrossed in the game. His deep dimples forming on both sides of his cheeks as he smirks, his rectangular opticals adding to his allure and the way he's positioned with his elbows firmly pressed on his knees is attractive. Not that I'm attracted to Zaid Mirza I LOATHE HIM, but that would also be an under definition of what I feel for him.
I send my knight forward, breaking the symmetry. I can see Zaidâs eyes narrow, his smirk faltering just a bit. He expected me to play defensively, but not today. Today, Iâm on the offensive. Iâm here to win.Zaid doesnât hesitate, moving his bishop into position, trying to gain control. Heâs always been good at thatâusing pieces to dominate the board, creating threats that seem harmless at first. But Iâve studied him. I know his patterns. I'm prepared for this.
"Predictable Ayra" he says, his eyes gleaming as he leans back "tsk tsk how many more times are you going to disappoint yourself"
"As long as your pitiful face remains in my sight"
"Always unapologetic and bold about the wrong things will get you drowned one day Ayra"
I'd be lying if I say it didn't puncture an emotion, I doubt that my eyes are slightly moisture containing by now. It's excruciating to carry the weight of guilt, disappointment and perfectionist all time. He had made his assumptions without hearing and contemplating my side of the story, that whatever I did wasn't baseless.
However I mask my emotions and watch the game escalating. Then, suddenly, I see itâa move that could end the game, a chance for Zaid to checkmate me within a few turns. My breath catches in my throat as I realize how close I am to losing. But before I can even react, I see something that stops me cold.
Zaidâs eyes flicker up from the board, locking with mine. Thereâs a strange glint in his gaze, something almost⦠serious. His hand hovers over the piece that could seal my defeat, and I brace myself for the inevitable. But then, to my shock, he pulls back, choosing instead to move a rook into a less threatening position.I blink, my mind racing. He had the game in his hands, and he let it go. He let me win that move. Why?
"Really, Zaid?" I ask, my voice low, laced with suspicion. "What are you playing at?" He leans back in his chair, his smirk falters as if It never existed. "Don't let it get to your head, it was your lucky day"
I narrow my eyes, studying him. Heâs playing some kind of game, but itâs not just chess anymore. Thereâs something else at play here, something I canât quite figure out. Is it the alarming declaration of a silent war? Or some mysterious pawn he's about to use.
I don't feel the adrenaline rush for beating Zaid Mirza in chess for I know that he let me win. I don't desire his sympathetic lost. I see what he has done, it's just to make me feel terrible.
"Why did you let me win Zaid?" I say, my voice steady with emotion but I doubt if it'll remain the same.
He looks at me, his expression unreadable as he glares at the board than at me. With no answer to my question he takes steps out of the room but I call him.
I stare at him, the victory feeling hollow, knowing that he let me win. My chest tightens with frustration. This wasnât how it was supposed to go. I wanted to beat him, to prove I could win on my own. But now, Iâm left wondering why he gave up his chance.
"You knew you could win Zaid! Why didn't you win?!" My tone surpasses the normal one and in reaction, he shut his eyes while clenching his jaw. "Because I didn't want to" he nonchalantly affirms while securing his hands inside his pocket. Unable to contain the bubbling rage within me, I step to storm out of the room but brushing past Zaid causes me to stumble and fall on my back. In an attempt to save me, Zaid falls along.
The awkward thing is that he suddenly situated his hand behind my back as if making sure I don't hit the floor directly (well I must be insane because he'd kill me himself).
Zaid Mirza is hovering above me and staring deep inside my eyes. For the first time in my lifetime, I've succeeded in analyzing an unfamiliar thought in his expression, something I can't decipher.
"Do you even know how insane you make me, Ayra?" I shake my head, forcing myself to push him away and not focus on his dimples. He chuckles and leans closer to my ear, sending goosebumps all over my body as his warm breath touches my skin. "Good. Because I intend to show you."
With that, one of his strong hand pins both of my hands above my head, and his other hand caresses my cheek. What the Fuck! I should just slap him but instead of choosing that option, I opt to roll my eyes "Roll your eyes one more time and I'll make you roll them for another reason"
My eyes widenes but before I can utter any single phrase, all of our friends come to my rescue. Thankfully, I no longer have to bear his pathetically shameless remarks.
'are you blushing Ayra Shaikh?'
His words echoes in my ear so I peek at the mirror beside and examine my face, no I'm perfectly fine and definitely not blushing AT ALL.
Resistant to deal with awkward emotions and to avoid the gaze of Ayra, I stride out the room. I don't have any idea from where I receive such boldness when I'm with her, maybe- it's due to the joy I get looking at her scowl. I don't have any control on myself around her (one of many reasons I hate her)
I didn't wish to lose purposefully but when I saw her eyes tear up, something didn't feel right. Despite how much I've endured due to her lie, her tears didn't feel good.
Something pokes under my feet, disrupting my thoughts. As I peek to understand what is the object, a shimmering silver comes into my view.
Crouching down I grab the jewelery by it's end and the realization dawns upon me that it's a bracelet and Ayra owns it. It's a silver, infinity bracelet I've always observed on Ayra's hand.
The first thing I should do is to return it to her but meeting Ayra is the last thing I would want to do after everything I've said to her. Hence I secure the bracelet inside my pocket and move into my room to freshen up.
â¯â¯â¯â¯
AYRA'S BRACELET
â¯â¯â¯â¯
As I slip into the main lounge, the lively buzz of conversation fills the air. Zahra and Zainab seem thoroughly entertained by Maha, their laughter echoing through the room. The aunties are deep in conversation with Inaya, while Ayan, ever the flirt, is shamelessly charming themâhe's seriously something else.
Ayzal is preoccupied with playing with Zoro, and Rayan looks as though he's trying desperately to ignore whatever nonsense Mariam is spouting at him.
But then, my gaze locks onto something else entirely. Across the room, Ayra is seated beside my mother, engaged in what looks like a serious conversation. My motherâs face is warm, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she listens to Ayra. The mere sight of them together stirs a sense of irritation in me. Of all the people in the world, why does my mother have to like Ayra? Why does everyone seem to like Ayra?
I canât help but eavesdrop as I subtly inch closer, keeping my distance but straining to catch snippets of their conversation. My mother is asking Ayra about her family, about her parents. Ayra, in her usual composed manner, answers every question gracefully, her voice calm and steady. I feel a knot tightening in my chest.
Why do they even like her so much? All Iâve ever heard at home is Ayra this, Ayra that. My mother could spend hours singing her praises. Itâs infuriating. If only they knew what she was really likeâif only they knew how much sheâs taken from me.
Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice Ayan approaching until he's right beside me, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
"So, hashmi oh I mean Zaid" he starts, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Is it trending to hover above your enemy?" I glare at him, but Ayan, as usual, is undeterred. He leans in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing some scandalous secret. "I believe you guys would've kissed if I was late" His teasing is relentless, and despite myself, I feel my cheeks heating up. Kiss and Ayra? Never! "Shut up, Ayan," I mutter, trying to keep my voice down, but Ayan only laughs, clearly enjoying every second of my discomfort."Come on, admit it," he continues, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You and Ayra, thereâs something there. You canât hide it forever, bro."
"Get lost or else I'll throw your limited edition sneakers in swimming pool"
Ayan's mocking smile turns into an offended one and he knows that I can do it, which causes him to leave my sight. I gaze between Ayra and my mom, torn between the urge to inform mom that she's the reason behind everything that happened not me, and just letting things slide. The weight of her bracelet inside my pocket doubles but I don't let it leave that spot.
Everything is just intolerant in life. Mom had to push me for becoming a pawn that would help their business, why did they ignore my choices? Don't I have say in my own life? I've spent my entire life striving to prove myself worthy of their love but at the end, I'm just a disappointment for them.
They are willing to force me into a relationship regardless of the knowledge that I'll need smile genuinely with her. They never cared about what I want anyways, it's always me letting them down.
Call me stubborn or what but I ain't indulging in a commitment, knowing fully well that I'll never fulfill the rights of that girl. I can't let others suffer because my dad wanted to secure a billion dollars deal.
Mariam- the daughter of dad's business partner- is currently narrating all the incidents of her shopping bags. I'd be terribly lying if I didn't admit that I'm really not interested in what kind of color would be ideal to wear with her peacock dress. I wonder how many times I've swallowed back a yawn.
Narrowing my eyes and sighing for the hundredth time I peer at Maha laughing with Zahra and Zainab. This girl is walking flesh with no brains at all- we both are dating, she should be acting jealous looking at me and Mariam but on the opposite side, she's showing me thumbs up. This girl is entirely crazy.
Thankfully, mom and dad are not here. Mom has isolate herself inside her room after hearing back from me and dad...well... he's never around.
The house help informs us all about the dinner and I couldn't be more thankful to leave the side of Mariam, I don't want to hear anything more about her bags and make-up collection.
As everyone starts moving toward the dining table, I feel Mariamâs hand clutch my shoulder. Her endless chatter about her shopping bags is already wearing me thin. Iâm about to speak up when Maha strolls over "darling, I'm here"
I blink, stunned, my eyes widening in surprise as I listen to her words. Maha winks at me, clearly enjoying the moment. A smile makes its way onto my lips as I know that my boredom is gone, my anti depression is here.
"Thank you Mariam for keeping him company, you know he gets really upset when I'm not around" she says playfully and slightly pulls my cheeks. I'm too stunned to say or process anything that is going around.
Mariam looks totally taken aback maybe she didn't know about my fake date. "Who are you?" She demands.
Maha's smile grows as she as turns to me "oh sweetheart, haven't you told her about us? I'm Maha Aamir the girl Rayan Khan is dating"
I stutter, struggling to find my voice, as Mariam quickly pulls her hand away from my bicep, her face flushing with anger. Maha smoothly takes my arm, asserting her presence. This girl has no filters, she has no shame, she's crazy and she's driving me crazy as well. Oh Lord what have you put me into?
Just then Ayan saunters here, his presence is enough ti bring it to my attention that something senseless and nonsense is escaping his mouth, "Bhabhi?" He says, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Mariam replies immediately "yes". What? This is my partner they are talking about and I have no partner at all, no one is his bhabhi.
Ayan grins and points at Maha "Bhai's jaan my bhabhi"
Mariam stomps her foot and storms off, clearly enraged. I stand there, shocked and processing the whirlwind of revelations, while Maha and Ayan exchange amused glances. I'm stuck between both of them.
"Oh Rayan did you look at her face? Please go and tell her again that Maha is your fake girlfriend" Ayan places his elbow on Maha's shoulder and she didn't seem to mind it at all.
I raise my eyebrows and look at them with disbelief, they both are walking problems. As we head to the dining table, I follow behind the others, feeling grumpy and overwhelmed by everything thatâs just happened.
Maha pauses in the way and smiles brightly at a bouquet of orchids placed on the table. She looks at them Asif a parallel universe lies beneath each one of their petals, like the shades directly paints her darkest days bright, as if they are the source of hope.
"Do you like orchids?" I ask, curiosity getting the better out of me because no one looks at flowers like she does "I love orchids. When my grandma was alive she used to bring me orchids daily, and sew their pattern on my dresses as well. It was an orchid she gave me when she was on her deathbed so yeah they mean Alot"
Normally, a person would've radiated a hint of sadness while narrating such an incident but Maha, she bears nothing more than a pleasant smile and a gleam in her eyes, like she contains no room for any harsh memories, all she remembers is good memories with her grandmother.
"Did I talk too much again?" She asks and I shake my head in response.
Grabbing her hand I lead her toward the dining room.
â¯â¯â¯â¯
ORCHIDS
â¯â¯â¯â¯
As we gather around the dining table, the atmosphere is charged with a mix of tension and amusement. The table is set with an array of dishes, and the aroma of the food fills the room, but the real feast seems to be the lively conversation and barbed remarks.I take my seat, trying to blend into the background as I grab a plate and start serving myself. Maha sits beside me, and the cousins begin to settle in their usual spots.
Ayan leans back with a smug grin. He starts off with a casual remark, clearly aimed at Mariam. They have a different problem with her after my mom set us both together, "You know, Mariam, Rayan is so smitten after Maha like once he bought her every single product in a Gucci store because she said so"
I throw him a weird look but he's enjoying this moment too much to give attention to me, Zaid is silently laughing while cleaning his glasses and others....they are with Ayan in this.
Mariam, whoâs already flustered from the earlier confrontation, shoots him a glare "khanay mein Mirchi bohot hai" she says glaring between me and Maha.
Ayan doesn't let this chance slide and smirks "Mirchi to lagegi" everyone here is barely holding back their laughter. My shameless fake date is laughing and hitting my bicep meanwhile.
Zainab, sitting across from Ayan, chimes in with a sarcastic edge. "Of course the food is so spicy" I chuckle silently knowing damn well that if mom comes to know about this, me and everyone here is dead.
Among the girls Inaya is trying to hold back a laughter probably because she thinks it's rude while Ayra doesn't seem to be fazed a bit, she continues having her food ignoring whatever is going around.
Mariamâs cheeks flush, and she looks around the table, clearly uncomfortable. "Yeah you know my dad gets me food from the top chef in the entire country. I hope y'all are not surprised as I'm born rich, you can guess by my Luis Vuitton bag" she snaps back, but her voice lacks conviction.
Zahra throws a sympathetic glance in Mariamâs direction but canât help herself. "Yeah what about your grandfather I've heard he was also a fan of vintage bags?" I'm sure she triggered this topic because they need some information to laugh upon.
Mariam smirks with a sense of pride "yeah you know as much of money he had made, he was really down to earth person" her fabricated accent irritates me, I've always hated prideful people.
Ayan's smile falters for a moment as he says "oh ab to bechare wakai m down to earth hai" silence envelopes the entire table upon listening to his remark, he has this habit of speaking gibberish during the wrong moments.
Ayzal, with her sharp wit, decides to control this situation. "Guys let's leave it here. Umm let's talk to bhabhi...Maha, what are your plans ahead?"
I scoff for I contemplate what her ridiculous plans must be, getting into jail again, sneaking into university or it maybe even crazier this time. I sense Maha trying to match my height so I lean down to her ease and she whispers into my ear, "for now planning on how to scream tonight"
I choke on my food, my body heats up as I process her words "HESITATE young lady. Mein eik Shareef insaan hu, tauba what have I just heard?"
Maha immediately switches her roles and passes me a glass of water "lijey ji paani pijeye saeen ji" who the hell is saeen? This girl is nuts! I was 10 percent right on my decision to fake date her, I'll never fall for this crazy woman.
Ayan and Zaid bursts into laughter clutching each other's hands while Mariam is fuming in anger, I on the other hand am trying to protect myself from this shameless lady.
Clearing my throat I abruptly stand up and excuse myself "I'd be right back"Â I make a beeline for myself to the door. I barely manage to escape the laughter that follows me tout the room.
I'm sure this crazy girl will be the reason of my death. I just hope I don't scare my decision.
As we finally settle into the car, Ayra, Maha, and I share a quiet chuckle, the evening's chaos slowly fading into memory. I can't deny that I enjoyed the night more than I would like to admit. Ayan as a partner maybe a bad news but him as a friend is like a sincere company. Suddenly, before we can move Ayan knocks on the window calling me out. Ayra rolls her eyes and Maha pushes me to go out.
After coming out of the car I confront Ayan "Hey, whatâs up?"
Ayanâs voice comes through with his usual playful tone, "just thought to show you my pretty face so that you have sweet dreams Hazel" I chuckle glancing at the city lights blurring past. "Oops now I'll have nightmares"
"Nightmares would be watching you with anyone else" he replies, a hint of mischief in his voice.
I chuckle, "you'll never stop idiot, I should just go now"
Ayan grins and runs a hand through his hair "So, leaving so soon? Canât believe you're ditching me like this."
I roll my eyes playfully. "I didnât realize I had a choice. Whatâs up?"
Ayanâs expression shifts from playful to slightly nervous. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, handing it to me. "Here, Iâve got something for you."
I take the box, raising an eyebrow. "Whatâs this?"
"Just open it," Ayan says, his tone a mix of anticipation and awkwardness.
I carefully unwrap the box and open it. Inside are dozens of small envelopes, each one neatly folded and tucked away. My curiosity piqued, I ask, "What are these?"
Ayan takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine with a touch of vulnerability. "You told me you overthink a lot and that itâs hard for you to share your thoughts. So, I wrote you these 50 letters. Each one is for every possible reason you might overthink, a little reminder to help you through those moments."
Iâm overwhelmed, my heart swelling with a mix of surprise and emotion. I pull out one of the letters, my hands trembling slightly. Ayan is the last person I thought would be this considerate and noticing these minor details "This is⦠really thoughtful, Ayan. I donât even know what to say."
Ayanâs smile softens, and he looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. "You donât have to say anything. You are my friend Inaya, the most genuine one I've had in a while and I'm grateful for it."
Tears well up in my eyes as I look back at him, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the usual banter. "Thank you. This means more than you know."
Ayanâs grin returns, a bit shy now. "Well, donât go getting all emotional on me. Iâm just trying to be a good friend."
I laugh softly, the tension of the evening dissolving. "Youâre a really good friend, Ayan."
He nods, looking relieved. "Glad you think so. Now go on before Ayra and Maha start wondering where you are."
With a final smile and a quick goodbye, I head back to the car, the small box clutched tightly in my hand. As we drive away, the warmth of the gesture lingers, making the night feel even more special.
The drive home is quiet but filled with a sense of calm and connection. As I look at the box beside me, I realize that despite the evening's earlier chaos, there are moments that make it all worthwhile. I realize that Ayan has this boy hidden under the playboy personality that craves a genuine relationship, not someone who'll flaunt over his looks and charms.
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
Hey guys I hope y'all are doing fine and well!
Here's the sec chapter of the week as promised and finally a zayra chapter ð I know how impatiently y'all wanted this one.
So yeah I know things between Zaid and ayra may appear puzzling currently, but I assure you that's just to show the real enemies to lovers trope.
They also have a little bit of reverse grumpy x sunshine.
One thing's for sure that they are the most challenging couple I've written.
How do you guys find our Raha?
I also wanted to ask that I'm not used to write bold scenes between couples but it seems suitable when it comes to zayra. Do you guys want such scenes in future or should I stop them?
Thankyou to all those readers who are voting and commenting to boost my confidence ðð¦ you guys deserve the end of the worlds.
And even if I had a moon to praise, I'd still choose to write a book on you estrellas. The brightest Jewels of my Dak night, my readers. ð¦
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