I should've followed Hoor's instructions regarding our unannounced date.
1. Choose a not so famous place.
I chose the most talked place in town.
2. The girls don't know about us yet.
I requested Inaya to join us to reduce the shadow of doubt.
All of the reasons were linked with the revelation of our relationship in front of the girls. We didn't intend to cover this reality from them, Hoor was just worried about me facing their stages of approval. At first, I thought it wasn't as serious as defined but as I'm sitting next to these girls, it sure wasn't an ideal threat.
I watch, trying to stay composed, as the girls huddle together like a jury about to deliver the final verdict. Hoorain is sitting beside me, her head drooping slightly so I scoot closer, allowing my sleepy bear to sleep on my shoulder. She's exhausted, her usual energy dimmed after whatever mischief these three have been up to, but still, she's here. I'm not sure if it's out of support or curiosity to see me get grilled alive by her best friends. The sec option seems more appealing.
Maha clears her throat and leans forward, dramatically holding out her hand to continue. "Alright, Ahad Bhai. We have a little tradition here. To officially date our dear Hoorain, you must pass... the Partner Girls Check."
Ayan, sipping his Pina colada, snorts. "On recording" he mutters, shaking his head with amusement. Rayan, as expected, is completely uninterested, lounging on the chair beside me, his arms crossed and eyes half-lidded.
But the girls are not to be trifled with.
Ayra crosses her arms, squaring her gaze at me. "So there will be scenarios and questions to check if you're really suitable for her"
Zaid chimes in before I can speak, "aren't you so childish for someone genius"
Ayra scoffs clearly taking offense, "I'm not childish"
"Then you're just a genius" he smirks
"Uhh stop with your hot enemy banter and let's focus on Ahara right now" Inaya wipes her fingers with tissue and focuses on me now, "we could've interviewed you as well but neither Ayra wants you nor do you want her"
Zaid nods and I brace myself for the questions and scenarios they're about to throw in my direction.
Ayra straightens up. "So are you ready?"
I nod, though internally I'm starting to wonder what kind of questions will be there? Hoorain's like and dislikes maybe?. "Alright"
Maha leans forward, narrowing her eyes. "Let's say Hoor has a sudden craving for mangoes at 3 AM, but you're out of mangoes. What's your move?"
I blink, my brain trying to catch up with the weirdness of the question. Mangoes? I mean what kind of first question is that? "I'd go out and buy mangoes"
Maha shakes her head, gasping dramatically. "Wrong answer! What if it's the middle of a storm? Are you going to brave the elements just for mangoes?"
"Yes?" I say slowly, trying to process if they're being serious. "If she wants mangoes, I'll find mangoes. Storm or no storm."
Ayan bursts out laughing from his spot. "Bro, you're gonna be out there, drenched, clinging to a tree like, 'I'm doing this for you, Hoorain!' while she's probably asleep at home, completely forgetting she even asked for mangoes."
Rayan, who's been quietly observing, raises an eyebrow. "Do people actually crave mangoes at 3 AM?"
Maha waves him off. "Rhino, this isn't about logic. It's about love!"
Before I can even wrap my head around that, Inaya throws another hypothetical at me. "Alright, imagine this: Hoorain's favorite show is on, but you're stuck in a work meeting. She really wants you to watch it with her. What do you do?"
"Uh... record the meeting?" I answer, unsure of where this is going. "Or maybe ask someone to cover for me so I can leave early?"
Maha gasps again, shaking her head dramatically. "No! You make sure you schedule meetings around Hoorain's show. Her show comes first!"
Ayan chimes in with a grin. "Exactly, man. Get your priorities straight. What's a job compared to prime-time TV with your girl?"
I glance at Hoorain, who's now staring at me as if she's supporting the girls, of course. "Of course no work deal is more important than my girl"
Inaya, now munching on another chocolate, pipes up suddenly. "Okay, I've got one." She looks at me thoughtfully. "Hoorain's upset, but she won't tell you why. What's your strategy to cheer her up?"
"Easy," I say, leaning back. "I'd ask her what's wrong, and if she doesn't want to talk, I'd give her space until she's ready."
Inaya gives a small nod, seeming satisfied. But Maha jumps in, shaking her head. "Nope! Wrong again. You don't give her space. You shower her with attention, make her laugh, and then when she's smiling, she'll tell you what's wrong."
I look at Hoorain silently requesting her to help but she gives me a cheeky smile "don't look at me answer the girls hehe"
Ayra smiles at her, continuing her onslaught of questions. "Okay: You're both invited to a wedding, and Hoorain's heels are killing her. What do you do?"
I don't even hesitate. "I'd carry her."
Maha beams, clapping her hands. "Now that's the right answer!"
Ayan chuckles from where he's been lazily draped across the bench. "Careful, man. You'll be carrying her everywhere soon. She'll get used to it."
I rub my temples, feeling the weight of their ridiculous but somehow oddly logical expectations. "No worries I don't go to the gym to show off, if my girl wants me to carry her, I'd carry her everywhere".
The girls awws at my answer and I believe I've gained their approval"
"+ Points"
Rayan, who's been silent this whole time, finally speaks up, his voice dry. "This is ridiculous. Can't you just... I don't know, buy her more comfortable shoes?"
Everyone turns to look at him like he's just said the most outlandish thing.
Maha shakes her head, disappointed. "Rayan, you clearly have no understanding of romance. It's not about the shoes-it's about the effort."
Rayan shrugs, unimpressed. "I'm just saying, carrying someone everywhere seems impractical."
Ayan laughs again, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Practicality, my man, is the enemy of love"
Rayan shrugs, "love is the most insufferable emotion to ever exist"
"If you see me struggling like that to get a girl I want you to run me over with a car" Zaid affirms while crossing his arms.
"Noted" Ayan says.
I sigh, glancing at the group. "So, is this interview done now, or...?"
Ayan raises a hand. "One more thing. If Hoorain and I are both drowning, who do you save first?"
My brain short-circuits. "What?"
Maha grins. "You heard him! Who do you save first?"
I glance at Ayan, who's dead serious, and then at Hoorain, who's still blissfully asleep, unaware that her friends are trying to mentally drown her. "Uh... I save them both?"
Ayra narrows her eyes, leaning closer. "No, no. You have to choose. One of them"
Zaid can't resist chiming in, laughing. "Bro, if you answer this wrong, you're never going to hear the end of it."
I groan, thoroughly confused and a little desperate. "Fine, I'd save Hoorain first because she's my girlfriend"
Ayra's eyes narrow for a second, and then she breaks into a grin. "Correct answer. Well done."
Ayan cries dramatically, "we're literally childhood best friends, Hoor you stole my bestie"
"Last one" Ayra announces "why her? Why do you love her?"
I compose myself as I stare deep in Hoorain's blue eyes, like the words are prepared on the top of my tongue awaiting to be uttered. I can answer this question differently if asked a thousand times a day, for no time period I speak can measure my feelings for her.
"Why do I love her? The answer is as simple as it is complex. I love her because she is the missing piece of my soul, the other half of my heart, the hope in my despair, the only thing that makes me whole"
I sigh and everything around fades away, leaving me with only a trace of blue eyes, the only reason for my existence. "Loving her is like breathing underwater, like seeing the world in colours I didn't know existed, like hearing music that sings only to me, she's the reason behind my existence" moisture begins to trickle in her eyes, and I would be lying if I said that my eyes didn't sting.
Every second pushes me deeper in love with her, beyond I thought I was capable of "she's the home that I long for when I'm away, the voice that whispers to me in the night, the comfort that I find in your embrace," my voice is rough with emotion, eyes filled with unabashed love. "She's my best memory, my sweetest dream, my greatest hope, my wildest wish. My Hoor, I love her because no other reason could ever suffice. Because no one can be her"
As I finish speaking, the world seems to slow down, and for a brief moment, all the teasing and laughter fades into the background. Hoorain's blue eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted in disbelief. The moisture in her eyes is now undeniable, and I can feel my own emotions clawing at my throat. I can't look away from her, not even for a second.
Maha, who usually has some snappy comeback, is uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes suspiciously glossy as she looks between me and Hoorain. She sniffs, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. "Well, damn," she mutters, her voice wavering just a little. "Only if someone had reasons to love me like this"
Ayra, who had been the toughest on me from the start, blinks several times, her arms slowly uncrossing. She looks over at Maha, then at Inaya, and finally at Hoorain. "Okay... I'm sold," she says, her voice softer than usual. "This was unexpected"
Inaya, still munching on what's left of her chocolate bar, gives me a small, approving smile. "Well," she says quietly, "you passed the final question. I wish someone loved me like this"
Ayan, who had been dramatically crying just moments ago, wipes a fake tear from his eye. "Hazel you sure will get someone like that" he says, half-serious, half-joking. "Someone whose name starts with A and ends with N"
"How about you rest somewhere which starts with G and ends with E" Inaya retorts earning a smirk from Ayan.
(It's grave In case y'all get confused)
Zaid, ever the more reserved one, shakes his head, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Are we done with a poetic session or some idiots still want answers?" He side eyes Ayra but there's something underlying in his stare, the same that was found in the carnival.
Rayan, who had been mostly silent throughout, gives me a slight nod of acknowledgment. "It's obvious you mean every word," he says simply, and that's probably the highest compliment I'll get from him "but seriously guys itna drama zaroori tha?'
(Was this much drama important?)
I glance back at the girls, and even Maha, who had been the most skeptical, gives me a small smile. "Alright, Ahad bhai" she says, her usual mischievousness tempered by emotion. "I guess we'll let you date our Hoor."
Hoorain, meanwhile, is utterly overwhelmed. Her eyes are full of unshed tears, her lips trembling as she tries to say something, but no words come out. I move closer to her, my hand gently reaching for hers, and when our fingers touch, it feels like everything falls into place. Her fingers are cold, but they tighten around mine as if anchoring herself.
She blinks, a single tear finally slipping down her cheek. "Ahad..." she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I... I don't even know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything" I murmur, my thumb brushing away at her tears. "You just have to be you. That's all I need."
Maha clears her throat, dramatically swiping away a tear as if to remind everyone she's still here. "Okay, okay, this is getting too emotional for me. Can we just agree that Ahad's officially approved, and move on before I start bawling?"
Ayra nods, her stern façade melting away as she flashes me a genuine smile. "You've earned our approval, Bhai."
Inaya, nods at me "I knew Bhai would never disappoint us although you still owe me chocolates"
I chuckle at that, squeezing Hoorain's hand. She leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder, still sniffling, but there's a soft smile on her lips. "I don't know how I got so lucky," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the noise of the others.
"You didn't get lucky, Hoor," I reply softly. "We both did."
And with that, the atmosphere shifts back into something lighter, the tension of the interview finally gone. The girls giggle amongst themselves, while the boys joke around, Ayan teasing me about turning into a hopeless romantic. But in the midst of it all, with Hoorain tucked against my side, her soft breaths a constant reminder of her presence, I know that no amount of teasing or questions could ever take away what we have. And if I had to move through burning rocks in order to be with her, I'd do that without any thought.
Because as long as she's with me, I have everything I need.
All of my senses screamed at me when mom asked me to take Ayra shopping for our engagement! This week, the absurdity of this idea was beyond explanation. Regardless of my consistent urge to call off this engagement, mom and dad were stuck on the point that we both make an exceptional couple.
As I stand leaning against the car, arms crossed, staring at her house like it was my enemy, which in a way, it was. Every second I wait for her to make her grand entrance feel like another jab on my already fanning patience. I glance at my watch for the third time knowing that she's doing this on purpose. I called her to inform her about my arrival and after cursing me, she ordered that I'm supposed to stay 10 feet away from her house and she'll catch up to me.
I don't even know why I'm following her words.
Just as I'm about to call her again, the door swings open revealing my nightmare. She walks with her usual confidence, chin tilted open like she ruled the world, her eyes are still rolling as she takes in my figure.
Without so much as glancing in my direction, she opens the back door and slides in. I stare at the back of her head for a second, disbelief flooding through me.
"What do you think you're doing?" I ask, opening the back door to get a clearer view.
She doesn't even look up from her phone, "what does it look like I'm doing? Tsk tsk you got more blind four eyes"
I scoff, if she continues to frustrate me like this the entire day I'm unsure of how I'm going to tag her as my fiance "get in the front Ayra, I ain't driving you like your personal chauffeur"
She rolls her eyes so hard that I might think they're stuck, "only because I'm in no mood to argue with you"
As if I was rolling around in excitement to argue with her.
She takes her sweet time getting out, making a show of walking around to the passenger seat like I've asked her to run a marathon. She gets in, crosses her arms, and stares straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line.
I grit my teeth and follow right after sitting on the driving seat and kick start the engine before the girl beside me can start irritating me anymore.
"You look hideous in that dress" I can't help but start up a conversation with her, maybe the silence isn't good company for me- especially not when I'm around her.
She scoffs, looking at me "same goes for you Mr Zaid Mirza. Just because girls find your dimples and glasses attractive and charming, doesn't give you the right to insult anyone"
A smirk plays on my lips as I continue moving the steering wheel with one of my hands, "you're also a girl Ayra, tell me, do you also find my dimples and glasses charming?"
Her disgusted expressions only add to my urge to fire her up even further, if she can make me wait for half an hour for her then it's only fair if I return the favor with miserable hours.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye, waiting for the sarcastic retort I know is coming. Sure enough, she doesn't disappoint.
Ayra's lips twist into a scowl, her fingers tugging at the sleeve of her shirt. "In your dreams, Zaid. If anything, your dimples are overrated, and your glasses make you look like you belong in a nerd convention."
I chuckle lowly. "Nice deflection. So you do think about my dimples."
Her face twists, pretending to gag. "The only thing I think about is how much I'd pay to never have to look at them again."
I chuckle and refocus on the directions I'm supposed to drive, I don't want myself squashed beneath some trucks because I was busy arguing with Ayra shaikh.
Suddenly my faze strikes on a slight movement of her. As the wind through the air conditioner emits, she casually tugs her sleeves down her arms and shifts in her seat. I don't miss the slight movement, and for a split second a thought crosses my mind that she might feel cold. Ok I might hate her but I ain't cruel to let her freeze.
My hands instinctively move towards the buttons and I lower the temperature without saying a word.
She doesn't seem to notice, still staring out of the window with that disinterested gaze of hers, I hate that I even cared enough to do that. What the hell is wrong with you Zaid?
Clearing my throat, I decide to focus back on the road, the silence between us heavy but tolerable. At least until I see her fidgeting with her bag, pulling out a small lipstick tube. I watch as she tries to apply it, squinting at the reflection in the window like it's some kind of makeshift mirror.
"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter, slowing the car down before bringing it to a gentle stop at the side of the road.
She blinks, looking at me, annoyed. "What now?"
I reach up and flip down the sun visor, revealing the mirror tucked into it. "Here's a mirror. Take your time," I say, leaning back. "Let me know when I can start driving again."
Ayra looks from the visor to me, her expressions skeptical "what are you doing?"
"Apply the lipstick Ayra I'm waiting" I reply flatly "I don't want you to walk with smudged lipstick"
She huffs, but doesn't argue, reaching up to use the mirror I've oh-so-generously provided. I watch as she applies the lipstick with precision, her movements quick and practiced, all while pretending like I don't exist.
The second she's done, she flips the visor back up with a dramatic snap. "Stop staring at me and start the car or else I'll break your car". I chuckle, shaking my head knowing that this is how Ayra is.
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
I've heard mom saying that girls can be really selective about their wedding dresses and witnessing Ayra spend hours in this store not settling on one dress prove mom's statement.
I never thought a girl like Ayra could be invested in dressing up and it seems like she's acting like that just to frustrate me. To spare myself a few seconds from this boredom surrounding me, I'm scrolling through the replies of my latest blog.
Yes... I've been scripting blogs for about 2 years now, through an anonymous account. I may not be pro at choosing suitable words to describe a certain phenomenon, but people tend to relate with my writing skills. I mostly pen my emotions referring to academic achievers and their struggles to maintain their grades.
Many mates came and approached me with their appreciative comments but there's one fan who has had my attention for a long time.
A smirk tugs on my lips as I recall Ayra's reply on my latest qna blog section. Basically, she has complained about me...to me, of course she is unaware of the person handling this account but I can't help chuckling at the ironic situation. The person who hates me is somehow my fan... interesting.
Before I can lose myself in the absurdity of all, the event planner's voice cuts through my thoughts.
"Mr Mirza, ma'am has decided on the theme for the engagement. Would you like to share your thoughts?" She implies with her professional demeanour. Alice has adjusted so well with our family that we don't go for second thoughts when choosing an event planner. She's the best at her work.
I nod signaling her to proceed with the details, "she has decided the theme of pastel colors. Blush pink along with Ivory"
I nearly choke on my own breath. Pink? That color sounds like something you'd find at a cotton candy stand at a children's fair, not an engagement event for two adults. But I can't let my immediate disdain show-not yet. Alice is good at her job, and I respect her too much to argue right now.
"Hmm pastels" I mutter, forcing myself to nod "go with it I'm fine if that's what she wants"
I'm nowhere near fine. The word tastes like sand in my mouth. I have no idea why I'm agreeing to this. Maybe because it's easier than arguing in front of Alice, or maybe because I want Ayra's wish to come true.
Definitely the first reason.
"Of course, Mr. Mirza," Alice replies, clearly relieved that I haven't blown up at her. "The pastel theme has been a trend in recent high-profile events. It provides an elegant, understated atmosphere."
"Right," I say, pretending to mull it over. "Understated. Exactly what I was going for."
Alice smiles politely, clearly satisfied that her plan is falling into place. Little does she know, I'm already planning how to dismantle this blush monstrosity when I confront Ayra. I have hated the color pink since I was a kid.
"Great," I tell her, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off my suit. "I'll go check in with Ayra now. Make sure we're on the same page."
Alice gives me a small nod, and I walk toward where Ayra is still perusing dresses. I might've agreed with her ridiculous color scheme without a second thought because it was her event, that doesn't mean I'll let her go without some confrontation.
"I thought you were more of a black and white girl but here you are a princess kind of girl"
She glances at me through the mirror, raising her eyebrow as if I'm the most disgusting thing she has ever seen, "I'd wear black at your funeral" she continues with a straight face "and don't give yourself much importance, I do not care about this engagement, the theme is what Maha suggested"
I chuckle under my breath, crossing my arms again. "Ah, so you're letting Maha plan the whole thing while you sit back and pretend you're not involved. Classic Ayra."
She finally turns around to face me, her eyes narrowing as she glares up at me. "Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk, Zaid? Or is it some kind of hobby for you?"
"Only around you future wife" I shoot her a wink, knowing that my words and my actions will irritate her more.
Her face instantly twists into a scowl, her eyes narrowing even more as if she's trying to burn a hole right through me with her glare. "I'll never marry you," she bites out, her voice dripping with venom. "In fact, I'd rather walk barefoot in glasses than marry someone like you."
I can't help but chuckle at her intensity, leaning in closer. "Yet here you are, shopping for our engagement and picking out dresses for the big day," I point out, my smirk widening. "Seems like you're more involved than you'd like to admit, future wife."
She scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically before turning back to the rack of dresses. "I'm only doing this because our families are insistent, and if I don't show up, my mom will throw a fit. Don't get any ideas, Zaid."
I cross my arms and watch her, thoroughly entertained by her grumpiness. "Right, right. You're just being the obedient daughter. Meanwhile, I'm here because I obviously love the idea of shopping with you"
Ayra crosses her arms, "Zaid can you be serious for once? I know you don't want this engagement neither do I so what is going to happen?"
I sigh, knowing that this needs to settle down now, "I know don't worry I won't marry YOU. I'll do something about it till then we have to do this"
She slams her hand onto the rack, the frustration in her movements clear. "Whatever bus Tum wakai Mein mujhse Shaadi nahi karoge na?"
(You won't marry me right?)
I glare at her with disbelief, I've already told her that I'd rather drink poison, does she have plastic ears? I smirk sarcastically, "nahi nahi mein mar Raha hu tumse Shaadi Karne ke Liye ab to mein tumse Shaadi karoonga, hamare chote chote bachay honge eik ka Naam Hoga shahjahan doosre ka mumtaz. Phir hum boorhe hokar Apne poto Kay Sath khelenge aur marjayenge"
(No no I'm dying to marry you..now I will Mary you, we'll have small kids and we'll name one shahjahan and the other mumtaz. Then we'll get old and play with our grandkids)
Ayra narrows her eyes, her hand still gripping the rack, and I can practically feel the steam coming off her. "What the hell!" she hisses, shaking her head. "Shahjahan and Mumtaz? Are they kids or history projects"
I shrug nonchalantly, watching her fume. "Whatever you want after all you'd be the mother" I roll my eyes "of course I won't marry you"
She groans, clearly regretting ever starting this conversation. "God, why are you like this? Is there an off switch somewhere I don't know about?"
I pretend to think about it for a second, then smirk. "You can check it if you want sweetheart"
Her lips twitch like she's holding back a smile, but her glare remains as fierce as ever. "Can't you just shut up."
"Me shut up?" I pretend to look hurt, placing a hand dramatically over my chest. "That's not so sweet of you sweetheart"
"I never claimed to be sweet, I'd prefer to be a bitter drug"
Before I can comment on her horrible remark, the store door swings open, and in walks someone who instantly commands attention. The famous designer, Tara Anjum, walks in with all the grace and elegance of someone who knows they're a big deal. Her gaze sweeps over the room until it lands on Ayra.
"Ayra, darling!" she exclaims, her voice dripping with charm as she air-kisses the space beside Ayra's cheeks. "I've been working with the SADAQA family for ages, and now designing an engagement dress for their first daughter in law is more than a privilege"
Ayra, who has been throwing sarcastic remarks my way for hours, instantly softens, giving Tara a polite smile. "I'm looking forward to it"
I stand back, arms crossed, watching this change in Ayra's demeanor with amusement. She never behaves like this with me.
Tara turns her attention toward me, her eyes flicking over my appearance with an approving nod. "Oh Zaid congrats for your engagement with this stunning lady out here"
"Thanks" I reply, a smirk creeping onto my face as I glance at Ayra. Stunning from where?
Tara raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment, instead focusing on Ayra. "Now, let's talk about the designs, darling. As I already received the measurements so I might have very fabulous pieces in my collection"
Ayra looks over at me briefly, her expression unreadable. Then she focuses back on Tara, as if she's glad to ignore me for once.
I lean against the nearest wall, still smirking. Oh, this is going to be fun. Tara Malik may be here to talk about fashion, but I'm not done tormenting Ayra just yet.
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
I sink into the plush couch, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. I definitely didn't sign up for this. Wedding shopping? Watching Ayra try on endless dresses while I pretend to care? Yeah, this wasn't anywhere on my to-do list. I glance around at the extravagant decor of the bridal studio, all pastel hues and shimmering lights, and then back at Tara, who is enthusiastically flipping through racks of dresses.
Ayra disappears into the changing room with Tara, and I close my eyes, trying to imagine anything more exciting than this. Maybe getting lost in the Sahara Desert with no water would be better than waiting for Ayra to choose a dress.
A few minutes later, she emerges in a heavily embroidered ivory lehenga, glinting under the lights like something out of a Bollywood movie. I raise an eyebrow, shaking my head slightly.
"It's way too heavy," I say, waving a hand in her direction as if shooing away the thought. "You'd topple over before we even finish the ceremony."
Ayra rolls her eyes so hard I can almost hear them rattling. "I wasn't asking for your opinion," she snaps before stomping back to the changing room.
Round two: she walks out in a pink lehenga with intricate ivory embroidery. My face contorts before I can stop it. "Nope. It looks like a cake topper."
Ayra groans in frustration "you know what you should be the one trying out heavy lehengas god I don't even want to get engaged" she whirls around to change again.
This continues for two more rounds-more ivory lehengas that makes her look like she's about to attend a princess, and a dark pink one that just screams 'royal disaster.' Each time, I make a face, she glares, and we repeat the process. Maybe the problem isn't in dresses, it's that I can't bring myself to like her in any outfit.
By the fourth lehenga, Ayra is visibly fuming. "You know what, Zaid? If you're going to keep rejecting everything, why don't you pick the dress yourself? Why am I even considering your opinions?"
I grin, enjoying her frustration. "Tara," I say, turning to the designer, "we need something different. Something... elegant." I stress the words, the lehengas look so heavy in contrast with her personality.
Tara, who's been watching our little spat with a bemused smile, nods and starts looking through her collection again. A few minutes later, she calls Ayra and I think I'm going to have to say yes to this one. I'm not liking her dress.
Ayra disappears once more, and I settle back on the couch, half-expecting another disaster. But when she steps out this time, I blink, genuinely caught off guard.
She's wearing a fusion saree-lehenga, the drape of the saree cascading elegantly down her shoulder, while the lehenga itself hugs her waist perfectly. The fabric shimmers softly, not overly adorned but with just enough detail to catch the light. The color-a soft blush with hints of Ivory -suits her in a way the previous dresses hadn't.
I thought I hated the rich shade of pink- which I did- not until I saw a grey eyed lady cladded in a pink dress that seems to draw every single one of my breath.
I can't bring myself to look away from her, her allure reminds me of the skies painted with hues of blush but again, when I'm looking at her...all I can see is a girl worth leaving every sunset for.
I had this idea that Ayra won't be able to have the same effect on me after the carnival, but I forgot that she's the same girl and only she can make my heart skip beats.
I'm hating it! I want to look away but I can't!
"Uhh Mirza if you reject this one, I'm making you wear a lehenga here" Ayra prompts, her voice full of impatience, arms crossed over her chest. She clearly expects another round of rejection.
But instead, I just stare at her, feeling... stunned. "We'll take it"
Ayra's brows shoot up, not expecting me to actually agree for once. "Seriously?"
I nod slowly, still trying to shake off the feeling. "Yeah. This one's... good."
Tara grins triumphantly, while Ayra just stands there, blinking like she's not sure if she's walked into some alternate reality where I actually approve of something.
But for once, I don't care about winning the argument. She looks... perfect without any hint of make-up-all herself, and I can't even bring myself to deny it.
As Ayra disappears into the changing room again, I utilize the opportunity to regain my composure. I tuck open the first two buttons of my shirt and inhale deeply.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my chest. She's my enemy, I remind myself for the hundredth time today. But my heart doesn't seem to care about the logic, especially when she's standing there, wearing that saree-lehenga combo that makes it almost impossible for me to focus. It's not just the dress; it's the way she carries it with a defiance that only Ayra could manage.
I notice Tara is gone. Finally, a moment of peace, but before I can fully appreciate it, Ayra steps out again in the same dress, frustration written all over her face.
"What is it now?" I ask, forcing my voice to remain flat, casual. "Why haven't you changed yet?"
"These pleats are impossible to handle," she mutters, trying and failing to adjust the drapes. "Where is Tara?"
I glance around, giving her a smirk. "She's not here"
Ayra huffs, trying to wrestle with the fabric, and I watch with a mix of amusement and something else I'm trying very hard to ignore. She's flustered, and I can't help but find it amusing.
"Calm down, Angry Bird," I chuckle softly. "I'll help you."
Before she can argue, I'm already stepping forward, lowering myself onto my knees to get a better angle at fixing the pleats. She's glaring down at me like she's not sure whether to kick me or let me help.
"Just relax," I say, my hands brushing against the soft fabric as I work on the drapes. "You remove this part like this," I demonstrate, tugging the fabric carefully. "And it'll be fine."
To my surprise, she nods, watching me closely. "Why did you agree with this one?" she asks after a moment, her voice quieter than usual. It throws me off for a second, but I recover quickly.
I feel the heat creep up my neck, but I force a cocky grin. "Because you looked the least ugliest in this one."
She narrows her eyes at me, clearly not buying my casual response. "You're the worst person I've ever met"
I finish adjusting the saree, standing up and stepping back. She's about to walk away when I catch her hand. She whips around, surprise flashing across her face, but I don't let go. Instead, I pull her a little closer, one of her hands now pinned behind her back. Her wide eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.
"Zaid," she warns, her voice low, but I can see the flicker of confusion in her eyes.
I raise an eyebrow, smirking as I brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "What Ayra? This worst person is about to become your fiance" I tease, my tone playful, but there's something different in the air now.
Her brows furrow, her grumpiness returning full force. "Let go of my hand," she grits out.
I tilt my head, leaning just a little closer. "Or what?"
Her eyes flash with annoyance, but there's something else in them too-something that makes my smirk widen. This is fun.
"I'll make you regret it," she mutters, though her voice lacks the usual fire, like she's unsure of her own words.
I chuckle, letting go of her hand but not stepping back. "Keep dreaming, Ayra. You've never made me regret anything."
The tension between us is almost palpable, making the air feel thick and heavy. Her stormy grey eyes flicker with a mixture of anger and something else I can't quite place. Her raven hair cascades down her shoulders.
But I can't help it-the teasing, the banter, it's how we function. My grin widens as I move us so we're both facing the mirror, her reflection staring back at me with barely concealed irritation. "Stay still," I mutter, and to my surprise, Ayra doesn't resist.
I grab the end of her pallu, draping it carefully over her head. The traditional look transforms her completely, and despite myself, a flicker of something crosses my mind. She looks... stunning. But I push it aside. This is just part of the teasing, nothing more.
"There you go. You look like the future Mrs. Zaid Mirza," I say with a smug grin, I don't entertain the idea of letting her be my Mrs, but I love the idea of irritating her and that's what I'm doing right now.
Ayra's eyes narrow dangerously, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Please, the day I marry you is the day the world ends. Try not to flatter yourself, Zaid."
I chuckle, my hands still casually adjusting the pallu as I play along. "Well, you might want to avoid blush pink at the wedding too. Doesn't suit you. Too innocent."
Her scoff cuts through the air, and she's about to step away, no doubt to end this ridiculous moment, when I gently reach out and take her hand. She freezes, and for a second, she looks up at me like I've just crossed some invisible line.
Ignoring her gaze, I lightly run my thumb over her fingers, pretending to inspect them. I'm trying to guess her ring size as I feel that the size she texted my mom would be wrong. I can feel the softness of her skin under my fingers, it's frustrating her and I don't need to look at her for that.
Ayra yanks her hand back, a flicker of something like surprise in her eyes. "You've lost your mind," she mutters before turning on her heel and heading back to the dressing room.
As she walks away, I catch a glimpse of something. A slight limp. Barely noticeable, but it's there. For a second, I think about asking her if she's okay, but I shrug it off, shaking my head. It's none of my business.
I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, watching her disappear behind the curtain, still grinning at myself. As much as I hate to admit it, irritating Ayra is becoming far more addictive than I ever thought it would be.
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
The jewelry shop is quieter than the boutique, but the tension between us crackles just as loudly. I carry the shopping bags in one hand, watching Ayra toy with the rings laid out for her. She's pretending to struggle with them, and I know none of them are her size.
But I let her play her little game. After all, the real ring-her actual ring-is already on its way from Tiffany, custom-made. I made sure to order the perfect size. I grin to myself, knowing that soon enough, her efforts to push me away will go in vain.
My eyes drift to her arm, noticing it's bare. Then, I remember the bracelet she left behind that's been sitting in my pocket all day. She probably hasn't even realized it's missing. Typical.
"Oops," she says with that smirk of hers, turning towards me with a glint in her eye. "Looks like they don't have an engagement ring in my size. And customizing them? Well, that might just be a little too expensive."
I lean back against the counter, adjusting my glasses with a casual chuckle. "Ayra, I could buy you the entire shop if that's what you want."
She rolls her eyes, not even surprised by my response. "Your parents' money, Zaid."
I laugh louder this time, genuinely amused. "You really don't know me, do you? I can afford to buy my fiance every jewel in this store with my own money. Easily."
I watch as her smirk falters for a fraction of a second. She wasn't expecting that. But Ayra never backs down from a challenge, and her pride won't let her quit now.
"Show me the most expensive sets you have," she says to the jeweler, her chin lifted high.
The guy moves quickly, pulling out the priciest pieces-necklaces, bracelets, rings that shimmer under the store lights like they belong in a palace. Ayra scans the collection, zeroing in on a diamond-encrusted choker that probably costs more than most people's houses.
"I'll buy them," she says, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to react.
I don't hesitate. Without a word, I reach into my pocket, pull out my credit card, and hand it over to her.
"Anything else, sweetheart?" I ask, my voice dripping with amusement, knowing full well I've called her bluff.
For a split second, she looks stunned. That smug look vanishes, and I savor the moment. But Ayra's quick-too quick-and she recovers, her jaw clenching in irritation.
As the shopkeeper returns the credit card to her Ayra gulps, her hand slightly trembles. But as she turns, the card slips from her grasp, falling onto the floor. Without thinking, she leans down to grab it, and in an instant, I notice her head is dangerously close to the edge of the glass table.
Before she can hurt herself, I quickly step forward, quietly placing my hand between her head and the table, just in case. My fingers barely graze her hair as she straightens up, holding the card tightly in her hand, completely oblivious to the near miss.
I shake my head, standing over her. "Stay still in your seat, Ayra," I tell her, my voice softer than I intend.
She tilts her head up, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, so you want your credit card back now? Changing your mind?"
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Aray baba, apne paas hi rakhlo." I lean down, kneeling in front of her. "I just want to check your feet."
(Keep it to yourself)
Her expression shifts into confusion, but I ignore it. I lift her foot gently, and as I suspected, a small glass shard is embedded under the sole of her heel. That explains the limping.
I carefully take out the shard, not wanting to hurt her. "Eik langri ko Apne Sath nahi Leke chal skta I have some standards."
(I can't take a limping lady with me)
Her eyes widen, and she gasps in exaggerated shock. "Haww! Did you just call me langri?" She slaps my arm in retaliation, but I'm already grinning, enjoying her reaction too much to care.
"What? Tum jesi bandri Kay Sath chal kar risk Liya hai, lowered my standards too much," I say, leaning back with a smirk, waiting for her usual sharp retort.
(What? I'm already taking a risk by shopping with a monkey like you
But Ayra's quick wit doesn't disappoint. "Phir to mere standards hi nahi hai k Tum Jese machar Kay Sath engagement hai"
(Then I don't have standards when I'm walking around with a mosquito like you)
For once, I have nothing to say. Touché. She's left me speechless, and I hate to admit it, but that's something I almost admire about her. Almost.
After buying the set, we head out of the store. I move ahead and open the door for her, leaning against it with a lazy grin. "You know, I thought you weren't materialistic"
She steps through the door, brushing past me with a look of pure confidence. "Money is the only power that speaks"
Her words hit harder than I expect, but I don't let it show. I raise an eyebrow, watching as she strides ahead, her head held high, every step echoing her unshakable pride.
Honestly it wasn't in my checklist to accompany the fresh couple on their date but the mount of curiosity and the offer of chocolates from Ahad Bhai, made it highly irresistible to shake my head.
Yes, despite the harsh reality that Hoor didn't care to share her relationship status with me, I wasn't oblivious to it. Not when I was the one who initiated everything.
I tagged along them targeting my entire focus on chocolates, letting the couple cling to eachother. The only thought that clasped my mind was when I am going to be someone's passenger princess.
Their romantic moment was interrupted by the unpredicted encounter of girls' that led to our girlcode interview.
After that, without any notion I decided to join Ahara but was pulled by Ayan.
Now I'm stuck with him and his never ending, useless remarks.
I glance at Ayan as we walk through the mall, trying my best to ignore his incessant commentary. His tall frame casts a shadow over me, his dark, tousled hair perfectly styled, and that signature smirk plastered on his face-like he knows exactly how good he looks and how much it affects people.
"You know hazel, you're lucky," he drawls, hands casually tucked in his pockets. "Most girls would kill to spend a day with me."
I roll my eyes, clutching the chocolates Ahad Bhai bribed me with earlier. "Count me out of those girls you run after"
His grin widens, unfazed. But before he can utter anything, I complete his sentence for him.
"Yeah yeah I know you don't run after girls they run after you"
"Did I ever tell you how adorable you are?" he replies smoothly, stepping a bit closer as if he's about to let me in on some grand secret.
I scoff, giving him a playful shove. "Thousand times I guess"
"And I'm planning to make it infinity"
Our banter continues as we wander through the crowded mall, Ayan's constant flirty remarks bouncing off my comebacks. It's always been like this with him-chaos wrapped up in a pretty face and annoyingly charming demeanor. We bicker, we tease, but there's something comfortable about it. Something... fun.
Suddenly, something catches my eye-a large poster hanging by the bookstore. My breath hitches as I freeze mid-step.
No way.
There, in bold letters, the announcement reads: "Zayna Malik. Book Signing Event, Coming Soon."
"Zayna Malik is coming here?" I gasp, my voice higher than I intend, my heart racing with excitement. I grab Ayan's arm instinctively. "Ayan, do you see this? Zayna Malik! My favorite author! She's coming to town for a book signing!"
Ayan arches a brow, looking between me and the poster with mild amusement. "You're this excited over an author?"
I nod enthusiastically, completely ignoring his laid-back reaction.
He chuckles, watching me with that amused glint in his eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hyped about anything before. If we're not including chocolates"
"You wouldn't understand," I say, shaking my head, practically bouncing on my feet.
Ayan leans in, that familiar smirk returning. "Well are her book characters as handsome as me?"
I make a face at him. "You wish"
He chuckles, reaching out to ruffle my hair. "I don't know, Naya. You're looking pretty love-struck right now. Should I be jealous?"
I bat his hand away, laughing. "As if you could ever compete with her characters."
"Oh, come on. I'm way better than some words on paper" he retorts, winking. "I can write you a love story in real life. How about that?"
I roll my eyes again, but I can't help the smile tugging at my lips. "You? Writing? Please, Ayan, stick to your day job."
"You mean admiring you? Gladly hazel" he says, shooting me a grin. "Besides, I'm already halfway through the first chapter of our story."
I give him a sideways glance. "Yeah? And how's it going so far?"
He pauses dramatically, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, Chapter One: Boy meets girl. Girl can't resist boy's undeniable charm. The boy teases the girl endlessly, but deep down, she loves every second of it."
I laugh, shaking my head. "In your dreams."
Ayan shrugs, his tone light. "It's a work in progress. But I'll get there."
We continue walking, my excitement over the book signing event still bubbling inside me. Ayan may be a smooth talker, but even he can't distract me from the thought of meeting Zayna Malik in person.
Buzzing with excitement, my eyes occasionally darting back to the poster as we continue walking. I'm practically bouncing on my feet, babbling on about how incredible it'll be to finally meet Zayna Malik in person.
"I should wear something chic that day" I say, half to myself, half to Ayan, who is grinning lazily beside me.
Ayan shakes his head, clearly amused. "You could wear anything and look good hazel"
Just then, we bump into someone. I stumble back slightly, my laughter fading when I realize who it is.
There, standing in front of us, is my cousin-Raheel. Shorter than Ayan by a good few inches, with dusky skin and a face that always seems to carry a permanent sneer. My heart sinks instantly.
"Inaya," he says, his eyes flicking between me and Ayan with barely concealed disdain. "Didn't expect to see you here. And in this... outfit." His voice drips with sarcasm as his gaze travels to my kurti paired with jhumkas and a tote bag.
I feel the familiar tightness in my chest as his words hit. Raheel has always been the one to pick apart everything I do, never missing a chance to make me feel smaller. I open my mouth to retort, but the words stick in my throat.
Raheel's lip curls into a mocking smile. "I see you've found yourself a companion. Quite the catch, huh?" His eyes land on Ayan, filled with judgment, and then back to me. "You should really think about how you present yourself, Inaya. Dressing like that in a mall? Uhh that's too Desi"
I clench my fists, the familiar frustration rising. Before I can even think of a response, Ayan steps forward, blocking Raheel's view of me. His stance is casual, but there's a dangerous edge to his posture.
"Well, it's a good thing I'm not here for fashion advice," Ayan says smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I've got to say, you've got quite the talent for unwanted opinions."
Raheel raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting Ayan to jump in. "I'm just saying-"
"Oh, I heard you," Ayan interrupts, his smirk widening. "Loud and clear. But let's be real for a second. Inaya doesn't need a fancy outfit to look beautiful. But I'm sure you already knew that."
Raheel's face tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he's about to fire back. But Ayan, with his confident posture and sharp tongue, is impossible to dismiss. He reminds me of the small saying I heard 'sweet faces, sharp tongues' no wonder why he is becoming a lawyer.
"And as for your concern about how she's presenting herself..." Ayan's smile turns mocking. "I think she's doing just fine without your approval. Besides, don't you have better things to do than police someone else's wardrobe?"
Raheel glances between us, clearly irritated. "You don't understand-"
"No, I do," Ayan cuts in again, his voice light, but his eyes sharp. "I understand perfectly. Now, if you're done with your little fashion critique, we were just about to grab some coffee. Have a nice day."
Raheel's jaw tightens, and I can tell he wants to say more, but he finally rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath before stalking off.
The tension in my shoulders releases the moment he's gone. I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Ayan turns back to me, his expression shifting back to its usual relaxed, teasing self.
I'm feeling lighter with him. It's strange, how he can switch from teasing playboy to someone who stands up for me without a second thought. I've always known him as the humourous fellow, the one who never seems to take anything seriously, yet today... I see something else in him. Something different. It's almost strange... I see a boy who gave me a box of 50 letters of reassurances just because I said I overthink and didn't want to share, the boy who baked a cake with me when he never entered the kitchen, the boy who stood up for me. There's something so effortlessly charming about him, even if he is a total flirt.
"For real," he says between breaths, looking at me with a sudden seriousness in his eyes. "That man is a jerk"
I laugh, "well but thanks maybe he saw us and thought you're so we'll dressed and I..."
He flicks his jacket "mein to peda hi amazing hua hu mgar Tum bhi pyari ho"
I peer at him with disbelief and then pull his hair earning a low yelp from him. He laughs and shakes his head, "no seriously nayu you're too beautiful to handle that idiot"
I leave his hair and shrug his comment off, trying to shake off the warmth creeping up my neck. "Well, I definitely wouldn't call myself beautiful, but thanks."
Ayan's grin fades slightly, and he stares at me, wide-eyed, as if I've just said something ridiculous. "What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.
He shakes his head slowly, his voice softer now, more sincere than I've ever heard it. "You're someone who could make anyone thank their lucky stars they have eyes, just so they don't miss out on seeing you."
My breath hitches at his words, the casualness replaced by something deeper. For a moment, I can't look away. I've always known Ayan was charming-too charming for his own good-but there's something else in his tone now. Something real.
I force myself to smile, feeling a mix of emotions I can't quite name. "You're something else, you know that?"
He smirks, the moment of seriousness passing as he winks at me. "I know I'm something really hot" he says, tugging me toward a nearby photo booth. "Let's get some pictures before you get all emotional on me."
"Ayan, no!" I protest, laughing as he pulls me toward the booth. "We don't need pictures!"
"Oh, we absolutely do," he insists, not taking no for an answer as he guides me inside. "It's mandatory. Cute, chaotic memories with me are a requirement."
He grins as he digs through the random props, tossing me a silly hat and a pair of oversized sunglasses. I roll my eyes but can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "You're impossible," I mutter, but I play along, adjusting the props as we squeeze into the tiny booth.
As we sit side by side, I can't help but glance at him again. Up close, he's... annoyingly handsome. His monolid, brown eyes are sharp, playful, but with a depth I've never quite noticed before. His smile, though playful and teasing, is boxy and somehow... warm. It makes me feel a little unsteady, and I mentally curse myself for even thinking about it.
He catches me staring and raises an eyebrow, grinning mischievously. "Uff, Hazel, you're harassing me now with all this staring. Try to control yourself."
I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to-"
He cuts me off with a laugh, nudging my shoulder. "Koi nahi, dekhne ki cheez hu dekh sakti ho."
I smack him lightly, unable to hold back my laughter. "You're insufferable."
We strike a series of goofy poses, him pulling faces and me laughing too hard to even resist. He drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close for one shot, then holds a ridiculous mustache prop up to my face for another. I can't stop giggling as the camera snaps away, capturing the chaotic energy between us.
In the last shot, he leans in, his smile so infectious that I find myself grinning back, unable to stop. There's something about this moment-about being here with him, laughing and being ridiculous-that makes me feel... lighter. Like none of the heavy things that usually weigh on me matter, not when Ayan is around.
The photos finish printing, and we step out of the booth, still laughing as we grab the strip of pictures. "Look at this," Ayan says, holding them up. "We'd make a cute duo"
I look over his shoulder at the tiny photos, and to my surprise, he's right. The pictures are cute, capturing the laughter, the silliness, and the warmth between us. I didn't expect it to turn out like this, but here we are.
"Shut up"
He beams, clearly pleased with himself. "Gladly"
I nudge him with my elbow, smiling despite myself. "Thanks for... everything. The pictures, standing up for me back there."
Ayan gives me that playful grin again but there's something softer behind it. "Since you're so persistent" he spreads his arm "hug me thanks Hazel"
I laugh and hit his arms "yuck bro do you even take a bath"
"Haww Naya I take a bath twice a day"
I laugh, rolling my eyes, but there's a warmth in my chest that I can't quite shake.
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
We walk out of the mall, both a bit worn from all the chaos inside. I tug at the strap of my bag, swinging it over my shoulder as I glance up at the sky. What was once bright and open is now covered in a thick blanket of dark clouds. The air is heavy with the scent of rain, and before I can comment, fat droplets start falling from the sky.
Within seconds, it shifts from a light drizzle to a full-blown downpour. I feel the cool water splash against my skin, soaking through my clothes, but I don't care. Rain has always had that calming effect on me.
I look over at Ayan, who's already grinning like a fool, his hair plastered to his forehead and his shirt sticking to his chest. "You love the rain too?" he asks, his voice playful, almost challenging.
I laugh and tilt my head back, letting the rain wash over me. "Who doesn't?"
"Well then," he says with that signature mischievous glint in his eyes, "let's enjoy the moment."
Before I can protest, he's spinning me around, making me laugh as we splash through puddles, not caring one bit about how soaked we're getting. His hand reaches out, tugging me along as we run through the rain like two kids who couldn't care less about the world.
He's relentless, constantly tossing playful flirts my way. "You know," he says, his voice carrying over the rain, "you're even more beautiful when you're drenched like this. It's unfair."
I roll my eyes, but I can't stop smiling. "Oh, please. Ayan how many more times are you going to call me beautiful"
But Ayan just shrugs, unfazed. "How many times do you want to hear it hazel?"
We're both laughing, soaked to the bone, when he suddenly stops and looks at me, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Come with me to a café," he says, like it's the most spontaneous and brilliant idea he's ever had.
I shake my head, still laughing. "A café? That's so mundane. Café dates are overrated, Ayan."
His grin widens, that devilish, playful smile I've come to expect from him. "As expected from you," he says, leaning in slightly, "but don't worry. I have something better in mind. Come with me, Inaya."
Despite myself, I follow him, curiosity piqued. The rain starts to ease, leaving only a soft drizzle behind, the perfect kind of rain that leaves the world glistening. The sky is a soft grey now, with patches of blue peeking through, and the streets are washed clean, reflecting the fading daylight. The whole world feels like it's been refreshed, and I breathe in the cool, rain-soaked air.
As we walk, Ayan leads us to a corner of the street where a small tea stall sits under a tin roof, smoke rising from the frying pan. The scent of freshly made pakoras hits me, and I stop in my tracks, my eyes widening in delight.
"Chai and pakora" I whisper, almost in awe. The sight of the stall, with its humble setup and sizzling pakoras, feels so much more magical than any café could ever be. It's the kind of scene that reminds me of home, of comfort.
Ayan glances at me, clearly amused by my reaction. "Told you there's nothing better on a rainy day."
We sit on a worn wooden bench, watching the raindrops dance on the street, their soft pattering blending with the distant sounds of the city. The world feels like it's on pause, with only the gentle drizzle as the soundtrack. Ayan, ever the drama king, drapes his wet jacket over the back of the bench like it's some kind of luxury item, sighing as if he's the protagonist in a romantic movie. I can't help but smirk at his theatrics.
Meanwhile, I rub my arms, goosebumps prickling my skin beneath my sleeveless kurti. My tote bag sits soggy at my feet, and I side-eye Ayan, who's now checking his skin in the front camera of his phone instead of, you know, being a decent human and offering me his jacket. Not that I need it or anything... But still, a gesture would've been nice.
"You do realize that skin is not most important here?" I finally say, raising a brow at him in disbelief.
He glances up, blinking like I've just interrupted the most important skincare consultation of his life. "What, this flawless skin" He points at his face. "Naya, please. My flawless skin is at stake here. Do you really think rainwater can affect me? Jealous thoda kam hona.
I give him a deadpan look, then cross my arms, more for warmth than sass at this point. "Jealous of what? You are focusing on your phone right now"
He flashes me one of his signature grins before he notices something. He tilts his head, examining my face with mock laughter. "Oh no, Nayu, your eyes are red. I get it now... you're upset because you like me, but please, don't cry over this one-sided attraction. I like you too, but you don't need to shed tears about it."
I smack the back of his head, sending his phone tumbling into his lap. "Idiot! My eyes always get red in the rain, nothing to do with you."
He rubs the spot where I hit him, feigning hurt, but there's a teasing glint in his eyes. "Okay, okay, but you shouldn't be out in the rain too much. You'll get sick, you know. Bathing in rainwater isn't the best idea. You're not strong enough to take it"
The irony is almost too perfect, because as soon as those words leave his mouth, he sneezes-loudly.
I burst into laughter, almost doubling over on the bench. "Says the guy who's already catching a cold!"
He sneezes again and I'm sure he'll get severely sick now "aww I guess you should prevent going in the rainwater"
He laughs along, his nose immediately reddens up and his voice changes "ok fine you won"
Like the last time he said he was strong and ended up unconscious in a haunted house. I chuckle at the memory.
I can't resist but point at his jacket. "You know, gentlemen are supposed to give their jackets to girls after rain."
Ayan raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely baffled. "And my wet jacket is supposed to protect you how, exactly?" He glances at it, then back at me. "You think it's a heater?"
I shake my head, unable to contain my smile. "It's the thought that counts!"
"Hold on," he says, suddenly getting up. He disappears into the rain, leaving me alone on the bench. I can still hear him muttering to himself about 'i thought she would feel cold' as he runs off.
A few minutes later, he returns, looking triumphant and holding a towel in his hand. "Here," he says, sitting back down and tossing it to me. "I bought this from the convenience store. This will help more than my jacket."
I stare at the towel in disbelief, a bit stunned by his thoughtfulness. Before I can say anything, he gently grabs the towel from me and starts drying my hair. "You're too slow," he says, with a smile.
I blink, completely caught off guard. The towel smells fresh, and the way he's carefully patting my hair dry feels so... considerate. It's sweet in a way I never expected. "You really are full of surprises, aren't you?" I murmur, half to myself.
He glances up, smirking as usual. "That's why I'm Ayan Ansari"
I chuckle, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the towel. "Shut up"
He places the towel beside me and sits next to me. The vendor brings out steaming cups of chai and handing over crispy, golden pakoras. I take a cup of chai and hold it close, savoring the warmth that spreads through my hands.
"This," I say, taking a sip, "is perfection."
Ayan nods, his eyes crinkling with a satisfied smile. "You see, Naya, sometimes it's the simple things that make the best memories."
We sit on the small bench near the stall, both of us still wet from the rain, but it doesn't matter. The world around us feels soft and alive, with the gentle drizzle, the smell of chai, and the distant sound of raindrops tapping against the rooftops. I glance over at Ayan as he takes a bite of his pakora, his usual playful demeanor softened by the atmosphere.
There's something about him in this moment that catches me off guard-something deeper, beyond the flirtations and jokes. Maybe it's the way he seems at ease in this setting, or the way he stood up for me earlier. Whatever it is, I can't help but see him differently now, even if just for a second. What is happening with me? Why am I feeling awkwardly awkward around him? Now that I'm looking at him, I wish I never met him in the mall today because I'm afraid I'll start wanting something I can never have.
The rain continues to fall in a light drizzle, soft and rhythmic, creating a soothing background noise. Ayan pulls out his phone and scrolls through his playlist. Within seconds, the unmistakable hum of an old Bollywood song fills the air, a slow melody that instantly takes me back in time. I glance at him, knowing that it's our shared obsession.
*Mere saamne wali khidki mein ik chaand ka tukda rehta hai*
"Damn this song is so good.. I wish I had a neighbor who could sing this to me" I exclaim, sipping the last bit of my chai.
He leans back, a playful grin on his face. "I would never dedicate that song to you even if I was your neighbor"
I purse my lips together, of course he wouldn't dedicate this song to me, I'm not even close to being compared with moon.
"I'd rather go with 'kare chaand, taaro ko mashhoor itna kyun kambhakt inse bhi khoobsoorat hai tu'"
I stare at him, totally taken aback, this must be the smoothest line he has ever uttered. It's such a beautiful way to express... I believe I'm blushing.
"You ever been serious?" I ask, half-curious and half-joking.
He shakes his head, looking amused. "Not yet, no. But I will be-one day, when I'm madly in love."
I raise an eyebrow at him. "So, you aren't in love yet?"
He doesn't answer immediately, just looks at me, his smile faltering ever so slightly as our eyes meet. It's a strange moment, one of those times where you think the air around you just shifted. His gaze is warm but unreadable, and for a second, I wonder if there's something more behind those teasing grins of his. But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it's gone, replaced by his usual smirk.
I roll my eyes, breaking the eye contact. "Of course. You just have girlfriends for play, don't you?"
Ayan presses his lips together, clearly trying to suppress a laugh, and takes a long sip of his tea. His veiny hands catch my attention, and for a second, I find myself staring at his forearms, noticing the definition in his muscles. I don't think I've ever paid attention to that before.
"I didn't know you had muscles," I blurt out before I can stop myself.
His eyes light up with amusement, and he waggles his eyebrows. "Oh, didnt you? I'm also a boxer sometimes, in case you missed that."
I snort, shaking my head. "Right. I'll believe that when I see it."
"Fine," he says, leaning closer with that ever-present smirk. "Come to my next match. I'll even let you cheer for me."
I raise a skeptical brow, though I can't help but smile. "Uhh, fine. Let's see you lose, then."
He grins wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs. "Challenge accepted, Naya."
As we sit there, I can't help but glance at him again. The way the dim light reflects off his skin, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, and that easy, lopsided grin of his that seems to come so naturally. He's handsome-really handsome. His monolid, brown eyes seem softer under the cloudy sky, and his boxy smile is oddly charming.
I shouldn't feel this..... Not when it's Ayan...no.... it's just momentarily right?
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
Hey everyone I hope y'all are doing fine and well â¤ï¸âð©¹
I hope you enjoyed today's chapter.
This is the longest chapter I've ever written and I don't know whyð
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Also yeah I introduced myself as well ðâ¤ï¸â𩹠it just feels good to meet the characters like this.
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Thankyou so much for 45k views.. I love y'all so muchhh ð
The next chapter will the most awaited one, the engagement... I'll post it hopefully next week..I wish we would cross 50k views by that Time.
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