28| Behkana

The entry of Ayra left us all emotional, our eyes brimmed with unshed tears, each one of them reflecting the myriad of love we share for each other.

To spectate your best friend being engaged to someone else, contemplating that she has stepped into a different era of her life is truly overwhelming.

As Ayra remains preoccupied with her soon-to-be fiancé and his family, the rest of us-Inaya, Maha, and I-are engaged in our favorite pastime: gossip. Isn't it some unspoken girl code? You gather your crew, sit in the corner, and dissect every person walking by, whether it's a wedding, a casual hangout, or a full-blown engagement. And tonight, we are on fire.

"I mean, what even is that dress?" Inaya snorts, eyeing a distant cousin who, bless her heart, chose something that looks like it's been stitched together using leftover curtains.

Maha dramatically leans forward, narrowing her eyes. "Uhh the fashion designer in me just wants to rush and sew that dress back!"

I choke on my laughter. "She could fly away if she catches a strong breeze."

Inaya nods sagely. "Might save her on the rickshaw fare, at least. Udr kar hi Yahan ayi hogi us patang jesi dress mein"

(She might've flew here in that kite like dress)

Maha nearly loses it, snorting into her drink, "for real I mean what's next? Neon glow in the dark outfit?"

We burst into giggles as another guest walks past-a man with the most outrageously styled hair. He looks like he's auditioning for a role as the villain in some soap opera.

Maha shakes her head, her eyes wide. "Guys guys wanna make a bet? It's a wig abhi nikalungi ganja niklega"

I grin. "Seriously guys? It can be natural hair"

Inaya waggles her eyebrows. "Hoor natural hair isn't supposed to be tilted"

The three of us dissolve into laughter again. It's the perfect distraction from the inevitable tears waiting to ruin our makeup. Maha suggests to pull the wig off that uncle, Inaya supports her while I'm trying to stop and her and the cycle continues with every passing human.

"Honestly," I say between fits of laughter, "I'm just trying to keep it together here. Maha, meanwhile, is two seconds away from sprinting to the stage and starting a judging panel."

Maha sighs dramatically, clasping her hands in mock desperation. "It's taking everything in me not to run up there and offer Ayra a color commentary of every guest. Imagine me, a mic, Ayra standing there, and I'm like, 'I request that uncle to come on the stage and pull that wig off, we want to see his bald head.'"

Inaya cackles, nearly tipping over. "Don't tempt her she'll do it"

As we continue our hilarious critique of the guests, suddenly, we hear what sounds like... gunshots? The distant pop-pop echoes through the air, jarring us from our bubble of gossip.

I've been quietly listening to our nonsense, but I stiffen, my face turning serious. "Okay, that's enough. I'll go check it out." Although I'm terrified to go out but Ahad once said, 'if you don't stand up for yourself then who will?'

Maha waves her off, still giggling. "Relax, Hoorain. Probably just fireworks or something."

I shake my head, standing up. "No, guys, seriously. That's not fireworks. And besides, it's noise pollution! I'll go... politely tell them to cut it out."

Inaya gives me an incredulous look. "Ok mother Teresa you can go"

I straighten my dupatta and huff, "Yes, because I believe in polite confrontation and standing up for what's right. If no one will, then I will"

Maha shrugs. "Well, don't get shot. You've got an outfit to show off later."

We all exchange glances before bursting into laughter again as I march out of the hall.

Since the day Ahad happened, I've begun to confront my deepest fears rather than isolating myself from them. Formerly, a decibel louder sound terrified me however I'm able cover my ears now, knowing that Ahad is always there if the things go south.

As I walk out of the hall, my mind races with possibilities. Who in their right mind would bring a gun to an engagement? Especially one like this, with billionaires, important families, and a hundred eyes watching every move. It doesn't add up. This is supposed to be a grand affair, not a scene from some action film.

But the second I step outside and spot the familiar tall figure at the far end, everything suddenly makes sense. There, standing under the dim light, holding a gun with alarming ease, is none other than Ahad.

My jaw drops.

Ahad, holding a gun? What on earth? The innocent part of me wants to scream, "What are you doing?!" but the new part of me (the part that flexes on being his girlfriend) feels the curiosity simmering more than the fear.

I straighten my shoulders, placing one hand firmly on my waist and start marching toward him.

"Ahad Sikandar!" I say, loud enough for him to hear over the slight breeze and scattered murmurs.

He turns, his gaze sharp at first, but the moment his eyes meet mine, his expression softens like it always does. His brows relax, and a slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips. The sight of him, standing there with a gun, looking so casual, makes my heart flip in the strangest way. Even with a weapon in hand, he manages to look both dangerous and endearing at the same time. Let's ignore the fact that he looks extremely handsome in this Kurta and that he reminds me of the Mafia hero in my novel.

I come to a stop in front of him, crossing my arms, trying to keep a serious expression. "What... are you doing?"

He grins, tilting his head slightly. "You're a little too cute to be playing the tough guy, you know that?"

I huff, trying to ignore the way my heart skips at his teasing. "You know what I mean! This is an engagement, Ahad, not one of your James Bond movies. Why on earth are you holding a gun? You're not a badboy anymore"

His cheek muscle twitches as if he's holding back a smile, and I narrow my eyes at him. Seriously? What does this guy think he's doing? "What?" I ask, crossing my arms. "Am I not looking dangerous enough for you?"

He just stands there, gun still in hand, his eyes glued to me like he's watching something out of a movie.

I take a deep breath, determined to sound as irritated as I can, even though my heart's doing that weird flip-flop thing it always does around him. "Gunda Sahab, if you don't put that gun down, I'm never..never speaking to you again!"

Still nothing. No reaction. Just that same stupid soft look on his face, like he's forgotten how to blink.

I wave my hand in front of his face, trying to snap him out of whatever daydream he's stuck in. "Ahad! Are you even listening to me?"

He blinks, but his gaze doesn't move. It's like he's completely lost in his own world, and I'm not sure if I should feel flattered or concerned. I roll my eyes dramatically and cross my arms tighter.

"Ahad!" I call his name louder, half-expecting it to echo in his brain and wake him up. "What are you thinking about? Can't you even focus on what I'm saying?"

Finally, he exhales deeply, like he's been holding something in, and his voice comes out low, soft, almost reverent. "Yehi soch raha hu... ki eik larki mein mujhme apna saara jahan kaise dikh raha hai? Par samajh mein aata hai... kyunki woh larki tum ho."

(I'm just thinking that how can I see my entire world in a girl? But again it's understandable because it's you)

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I feel my face heating up almost instantly. Oh no. Not the blush. I try to keep my expression angry, focused, but it's hard when my heart is practically melting right there in front of him.

"That's not going to work on me, Ahad," I mumble, trying to sound tough, but my voice comes out softer than I intended.

He tilts his head slightly, that charming smile of his widening just a bit, like he knows exactly what effect his words have on me. "You sure about that?"

I let out a frustrated huff, feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, he's making my heart flutter like a thousand butterflies just took off at once, and on the other hand-he's still holding the gun.

"Ahad," I say, trying to be stern, even though my voice betrays me with how weak it sounds. "I'm still mad at you for the gun."

He smirks, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "Mad? Really?" He leans in, his voice dropping to that soft, teasing tone he always uses to get under my skin. "Because it doesn't look like you're mad, Hoor."

I roll my eyes again, trying to regain my composure. "I am! This is serious. You can't just be standing around with a gun at an engagement! You know how much noise pollution it can create? You should be mindful of the people around you"

His smile softens, and he takes my hand and places the gun on it, his gaze still locked on me. "I'm sorry my love, you can shoot me of you want and I'll never repeat the same mistake"

I blink, staring at him, completely taken aback by his words. The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh, but then I catch the sincerity in his eyes, and it makes my heart do a little somersault. He's apologizing in the most Ahad way possible, handing me a gun like it's some romantic gesture.

Before I can even respond, I hear someone nearby murmuring something under their breath. I tilt my head slightly, catching just enough of what they're saying to piece it together.

"He wasn't just fooling around with the gun," the voice whispers. "It's part of an important task for the wedding."

I whip my head back toward Ahad, eyebrows raised in astonishment as he's just staring at those boys with a deadly glare that says 'don't tell her or you'll....'

"Wait... if it wasn't just for fun, you could've told me that earlier!"

Ahad smirks, looking completely unbothered by my newfound discovery. "I couldn't cut off my lady's words," he says with a playful tilt of his head. "Besides... you're too beautiful when you're angry."

I stare at him for a second, completely dumbfounded by how effortlessly charming he can be, even when I'm trying to stay mad at him. My cheeks start to heat up, and I can feel the blush creeping up, much to my dismay.

"Ahad," I mumble, trying to sound scolding, but failing miserably. "That's not the point."

He takes a step closer, his eyes still locked on mine, and reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is gentle, and his voice drops to that low, tender tone that makes my heart skip a beat every single time. "I know. And I'm truly sorry, Hoor. I never meant to upset you. I just-"

He pauses, his thumb brushing against my cheek ever so softly as his gaze softens even more. "I just love the way you care. How you worry about the smallest things. It's one of the many reasons I'm crazy about you."

My heart is practically doing flips at this point, and it's taking everything in me not to turn into a puddle right there. How does he always manage to say the perfect thing at the perfect time?

"You really know how to get yourself out of trouble, don't you?" I mutter, trying to hide my smile.

He chuckles softly, his hand still resting on my cheek. "I don't have to get out of trouble when I have someone as perfect as you by my side."

I roll my eyes again, but this time, there's no frustration behind it. I'm smiling now, fully giving in to the warmth that always comes with being around him. I hate how he can so easily melt my heart with just a few words, but I can't deny how much I love it too.

"Come on," Ahad says, taking my hand in his and intertwining our fingers. "Let's get back inside before everyone starts wondering where we disappeared to."

I glance down at our joined hands, my heart fluttering at the simple gesture. He's always so gentle, so thoughtful, and even when he drives me crazy, there's this overwhelming feeling of love and safety that never goes away.

As we start walking back toward the hall, Ahad leans in closer, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You know, Hoorain... you make everything brighter. Even when you're scolding me about noise pollution."

I laugh, shaking my head as we approach the entrance. "Someone has to keep you in check."

"And I love you," he replies, his smile growing as he opens the door for me.

"Thank you" I chuckle.

As we step inside, the warm lights of the hall wash over us, and I glance up at him, feeling a warmth in my chest that I can't quite explain. It's moments like these where everything feels so easy, so right-that reminds me just how much I love this man. He's not just a green flag; he's the whole forest.

And I couldn't be luckier to have him.

As we step back into the grand hall, the warm, glittering lights and soft music surround us again. My hand is still in Ahad's, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. But then, I feel a tiny tug on my dress. Glancing down, my heart instantly melts.

A little girl, no older than four, stands there in the cutest pink dress. Her chubby cheeks are tinted a soft pink, deep dimples showing as she smiles up at me, her big honey-colored eyes sparkling with innocence and curiosity. She's absolutely adorable.

"Oh my goodness"" I whisper, bending down to her level, completely in awe. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?"

Ahad crouches beside me, smiling at the little girl. "Hello, little princess," he says softly, and the girl giggles, her dimples deepening as she looks between the two of us.

Just then, a man steps forward. He's wearing a plain white kurta paired with a black shawl draped over his shoulder. He moves with a quiet grace, his presence demanding attention without even trying. His features are sharp, and his confidence radiates. It's hard not to be captivated by him.

It's Azlan Malik, the tech legend, the billionaire. Ahad worked under his supervision during his internship. Of course he doesn't need any introduction, the man is a walking legend.

Azlan's face softens as he approaches and gently picks up the little girl with such love and care that it's clear he's an amazing father. "There you are, Amal," he murmurs to her, kissing her cheek, and she giggles in response. His tenderness toward his daughter is striking, contrasting with his otherwise commanding aura.

He then notices Ahad and greets him with a warm smile. "Ahad, it's been a while."

Ahad immediately stands and nods respectfully. "Sir, it's an honor that you came here."

Azlan chuckles, shaking his head. "Don't be so formal, Ahad. We're friends, not strangers."

I continue peeking Amal as she spreads her arms towards me, without wasting any moment I grab her and let her touch my eyes. She mutters "blue" in a beautiful childish voice

Her voice is so pure, so innocent, that I can't help but smile wider. "Aww your honey eyes are way more adorable" I say softly, completely enthralled by this tiny bundle of joy.

Amal looks at me with fascination, her honey-colored eyes twinkling as if I'm the most interesting person in the world. I can't help but laugh. "She's prettyyyy" she cutely explains it to Ahad.

Ahad watches us with an amused smile, clearly enjoying the moment. "I think you have a new fan," he teases, and I stick my tongue out at him playfully, too absorbed in Amal to care.

Azlan observes the interaction with a gentle smile, his arms crossed casually. Despite his imposing presence, there's a softness in his eyes as he watches his daughter bond with me.

"She doesn't usually warm up to people this quickly," he comments, and I glance up at him, realizing I should probably be more formal.

"Thank you, sir," I say, a bit flustered as I address him. It's not every day you find yourself chatting with a billionaire like Azlan Malik. "She's absolutely adorable."

Azlan smiles warmly at me, his demeanor so easygoing that it puts me at ease. "She seems to like you. And please, you don't need to call me 'sir.' Just Azlan is fine."

I nod, though it still feels strange. "You have done a wonderful job with her"

Azlan's smile grows, pride evident in his expression as he watches his daughter happily snuggle into my arms. "Thank you. But most of the credit goes to Laiba. She's the one who makes everything perfect."

Before the conversation can continue, a soft voice calls out from behind us. "Azlan..." The voice belongs to a woman, and when I turn, I see her-Laiba Malik, Azlan's wife. She's beautiful, with almond-shaped eyes, a round face, and dimples that match her daughter's. Her honey-colored eyes reflect warmth and grace, and it's clear she's the love of his life.

Azlan's expression changes completely the moment he sees her-his gaze softens, and a look of pure adoration takes over his face.

"Amour" he murmurs, walking toward her. "What's wrong?"

Laiba glances at Azlan, her eyes serious. "I just got a call from the hospital. There's an emergency case, and I need to leave."

Amal, insists on walking now, giggling but holding the hand of her father. She's clearly more attached to him, and Azlan smiles lovingly at both his wife and daughter. "Okay, mon amour," he says gently. "We'll leave now."

Laiba, always considerate, shakes her head. "Azlan, you should stay here. It's important."

But Azlan wraps his shawl around her shoulders with a smile because he notices her hands rubbing around her arms. Oohhh he's definitely the standards.

"I can't let you go alone. Besides, we both know I'd feel lonely without you." His voice is warm, his tone final but full of affection.

Laiba turns toward Ahad and me with a kind, graceful smile that instantly makes me feel at ease. Her warm, almond-shaped eyes twinkle with a sense of familiarity and kindness. "It's so wonderful to see you both here," she says, her voice soft but filled with sincerity.

Ahad stands a little straighter, smiling back at her. "It's been a while, Mrs Malik."

Laiba laughs gently, brushing off the compliment with humility. "Oh, don't make me blush, Ahad. You were one of the best interns Azlan ever had. Always so focused and dedicated."

I can tell Ahad feels genuine respect for her, but the way she speaks makes it clear she's not arrogant being the wife of a legend along with being a renowned surgeon. There's something effortlessly kind about her, the way she carries herself with grace while also making sure everyone around her feels comfortable.

After exchanging a few more words, Azlan and Laiba say their goodbyes, and they leave, Amal happily waving from Ahad's arms as they walk away.

I watch them go, my heart warming at the beautiful family. Ahad looks at me and grins. "You're imagining us like that, aren't you?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Shut up, Ahad." We move inside the Hall and I wonder where did the girls go judging people? I'm kinda tired as well.

Ahad notices the subtle shift in my posture as I let out a small sigh, a hint of weariness creeping into my smile. His sharp eyes catch everything, and without a word, he steps aside, scanning the hall for a moment before he pulls out a chair, gesturing for me to sit down with a soft smile.

"You look tired, Hoor. Why don't you take a seat? Here, it's comfortable, I'd bring some pillows for you if you're uncomfortable?" he says, his voice laced with gentle concern.

I laugh lightly, trying to brush off the fatigue. "I'm fine, Ahad, really."

He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he looks down at me. "You're so careless about yourself that you must've written till late at night"

I take the chair, still chuckling, and shake my head. "Ahad I'm fine ok? How can I stay up late at night when you set up my alarms and those reminders to stop me from overworking?."

Ahad stands beside me as he nods with a smile, his arm resting casually along the back of my chair, his fingers just brushing my shoulder. The small, tender gesture sends a wave of warmth through me, and I glance up at him, catching the way his gaze lingers on me as if he can't believe I'm here, with him, tonight.

"I'd carry you if you want," he murmurs softly, bending down slightly so only I can hear. His voice is full of adoration, as if he's not joking at all, and the look in his eyes is so sincere that my heart does a little flip.

Before I can tease him back, a voice interrupts us, warm and familiar. "Ahad."

I look up and see a graceful woman approaching us, her smile wide and full of love. Ahad immediately stands straighter, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly-something I've never seen him do before.

"Mom," he greets, trying to sound casual, but there's an unmistakable fondness in his voice.

His mother is stunning, with an air of elegance and warmth that makes her instantly likable. Her eyes dart between Ahad and me, and a teasing grin spreads across her face. "Is she the reason for your daydreaming?" Oh gosh!!!! This is Ahad's mother! My future mother in law... I should probably stand up and respect her... Am I looking good? Oh what if she doesn't like me?

I blink, suddenly feeling a bit shy under her affectionate gaze. "It's nice to meet you, Aunty," I say, standing up and offering a polite smile. But inside, my heart races. I've never met Ahad's mother before, and the weight of the moment isn't lost on me. It feels big, significant, like a step into something more serious.

"Oh, please, call me Ammi," she insists, her tone playful. She reaches out and pulls me into a gentle hug, catching me off guard. "You're family now pretty girl, no need to be nervous around me okay? This boy may have told you that I'm angry or what but trust me I'm a cool mom."

I'm momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by her warmth and kindness. As someone who basically grew up without a mother, this is the first time in a while I've felt something so... maternal. It feels foreign but comforting, like finding something I'd been missing.

Ahad's mother pulls back, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she turns to Ahad, who's still rubbing his neck awkwardly. "You know, Ahad used to talk non-stop about how he didn't believe in love at first sight," she teases, nudging him lightly. "But of course he had to when the girl is pretty like you. Thankfully he found me a perfect daughter in law"

Ahad lets out an embarrassed groan, his ears turning a bit red. "Mom, please," he mutters, shooting her a halfhearted glare, but there's no real bite to it.

I laugh, trying to hide my own blush, and Ahad's mother continues to tease him. "You should've seen him, Hoorain. All these years, acting like he's too cool for love. And now look at him-can't take his eyes off you."

Ahad looks away, clearly flustered, but his hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "Mom, stop embarrassing me," he says, though he's smiling despite his protest.

His mother winks at me. "Well, I've got to make the most of these moments, don't I?."

Her words hit deeper than I expect, and I feel a warmth bloom in my chest. There's something about the way she looks at me, like she's already accepted me as part of their family, that makes me feel like I belong.

Ahad glances at me, his expression softening as he watches me interact with his mother. I can feel the depth of his feelings in the way his thumb gently brushes against my hand, as if grounding me to this moment.

"You really are lucky, you know," his mother says, turning back to Ahad, her tone serious for a moment. "Hoorain is a special one."

Ahad meets her gaze, then mine, his eyes full of something deep and unwavering. "I know, Ammi. Believe me, I know."

As she turns to greet others, I can't help but feel like this is what family is supposed to feel like-full of teasing, laughter, and warmth. And for the first time in a long while, I let myself imagine a future where this is my family too.

Ahad squeezes my hand again, his smile soft and full of love as he leads me back into the hall.

I sit on the stage beside Zaid, feeling more like a decorative showpiece than a bride-to-be. The lights are too bright, the dress too heavy, and the man beside me-my sworn enemy-too smug for my liking. My fingers clutch the edge of my dress as I try to ignore the chaos swirling inside me.

My girls are scattered around the hall, completely oblivious to my plight. Inaya is in the middle of a conversation with Ayan, probably laughing at one of his endless jokes after her phenomenal dance performance. They seem so carefree, as if nothing in the world could go wrong. Hoorain, meanwhile, looks utterly content with Ahad, who is drooling over her as usual. Even Maha and Rayan-God knows how those two work-are lost in their own little world.

But me? I'm stuck here, next to the one person who I'm convinced is marrying me just for revenge. Zaid. My enemy. The bane of my existence. The one person who I swore would never be my future.

I glance sideways at him. He's sitting there in his perfectly tailored sherwani, looking every bit the charming groom with those forever glasses perched on his nose. He looks... handsome. I mean, for someone who isn't my fiancé. Not that I care. Yuck. I quickly avert my gaze, mentally cursing myself for even noticing.

How did it come to this? Mom dragged me into this, practically forced me into this engagement with Zaid. The end of my life, that's what this is. He probably agreed to marry me just so he could laugh at me every single day for the rest of our lives. I mean, why else would he go along with this madness? I've tried everything to stop it, sending him wrong ring sizes, making him pay for ridiculously expensive jewelry that I'll never wear and yet, here we are.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to ignore the weight of my outfit. This dress is suffocating, like a metaphor for the situation I'm in. Heavy, unwanted, and completely unavoidable. I sneak another glance at Zaid, who seems completely unbothered.

"How are you not sweating in this thing?" I mutter under my breath, my frustration leaking into my tone.

Zaid raises an eyebrow, turning his head slightly towards me. "I have a higher tolerance for discomfort, Ayra considering that I've spent years with you, you should've known that" he replies, his voice annoyingly calm.

I roll my eyes. Of course, he would say that. "Well, this whole thing is extremely uncomfortable, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, trust me, It's hard not to notice when you're moving so frantically" he says, adjusting his glasses as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "You've made it very clear how much you hate this engagement."

"Good," I snap, crossing my arms. "Because I do. This is absurd, Zaid. We're enemies. How are we even supposed to pretend this is going to work?"

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Who said anything about pretending, Ayra? Maybe I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my life making sure you never forget how much I annoy you."

I blink at him, momentarily thrown off by his words. Is he... teasing me? I huff, turning away from him. "Just shut up ok? It's taking all of my willpower to stop me from running"

"Feelings mutual" he quips back, leaning comfortably against his seat as if he's enjoying my misery.

I glance at him again, and there it is-that smug look that makes me want to scream. How is he so relaxed? Does he not realize how catastrophic this is?

"You're probably loving this, aren't you?" I accuse, narrowing my eyes at him. "Getting to marry me and torment me for the rest of your life."

Zaid lets out a low chuckle, and it sends a ripple of annoyance down my spine. "I wouldn't say I love it... but it's definitely going to be interesting. Watching you squirm is always entertaining."

I grit my teeth, trying to suppress the urge to strangle him right here in front of everyone. "You're evil"

He leans in even closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You aren't a saint either"

I feel my face flush in frustration-or is it something else? No, definitely frustration. I shake my head, refusing to let him get under my skin any more than he already has. "If you think this is going to work, Zaid, you're in for a rude awakening."

He shrugs nonchalantly, his expression annoyingly composed. "We'll see about that, Ayra."

Zaid rolls his eyes dramatically as I shift again in discomfort, clearly irritated by the weight of the dress I'm trapped in. The silk digs into my skin, and the layers of fabric feel like they're swallowing me whole. I tug at the hem, trying to adjust it, but it's no use. Everything about this situation is suffocating-from the engagement itself to the ridiculous gown I'm being forced to wear.

"You're fidgeting like a toddler," Zaid mutters, casting a sidelong glance at me, his smirk still firmly in place. "Can't handle a little bit of fabric, Ayra?"

I glare at him, my frustration boiling over. "If you had to wear this monstrosity, you'd be fidgeting too, Zaid. It's like carrying a tent on my body."

Without a word, Zaid sighs and leans over, his fingers brushing against the intricate fabric of my lehenga. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he adjusts the draped portion that's been bothering me for the past hour. With a few quick movements, he fixes it, the tension in the fabric easing instantly.

"There," he says smugly, straightening back up. "Happy now?"

I stare at him, both shocked and annoyed. "Why are you even-" I pause, huffing as I straighten myself. "You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't have to," he repeats mockingly, shrugging with a grin. "You could've done it yourself only if you weren't so grumpy."

My fists clench as I fight back the urge to snap at him again. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Playing the gentleman for once, just to mess with me."

Zaid raises an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face. "I'm just being practical. I don't want my fiancée tripping all over the place and ruining our big day."

I scoff. "Oh please, you don't care about that. You're probably imagining all the ways you'll laugh at me later."

"Maybe," he admits with a playful gleam in his eyes. "But I'd rather laugh at you while you're standing on two feet, not lying face-down in the middle of the stage."

I roll my eyes, shifting again now that my dress feels somewhat bearable.

Zaid just shrugs again, leaning back against his seat with his arms crossed, his demeanor infuriatingly calm. "Just tell me if this feels uncomfortable again. After all we're getting engaged"

"Against my will," I snap, my voice dripping with annoyance.

"Against both of our wills," he corrects, his smirk softening just a bit. "But you know what they say-nothing brings people together like mutual hatred."

I stare at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. For all his arrogance and smugness, there's something almost... charming about the way he doesn't seem fazed by any of this. As much as I hate to admit it, Zaid is handling this whole nightmare of an engagement far better than I am.

Obviously because he needs the revenge.

"Whatever," I mutter, crossing my arms in frustration. "Just don't expect me to thank you for fixing my dress."

Zaid chuckles under his breath. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."

I huff in frustration, glancing down at my overly ornate dress. The layers of pink and gold shimmer like an unwanted beacon, drawing too much attention. "I probably look like a giant cotton candy right now," I mutter under my breath, feeling ridiculous.

Zaid, who had been leaning back with his typical smugness, suddenly looks at me intently. His gaze lingers for a second too long before he quickly averts his eyes, feigning indifference. I catch the small flicker of something in his expression, something that makes me frown.

"What?" I ask, suspiciously.

He mumbles something under his breath, barely audible. "Yeah... and I was sweating, shivering after looking at you."

I snap my head towards him, narrowing my eyes. "What did you just say?"

Zaid shrugs nonchalantly, avoiding my gaze once more. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."

His deflection only fuels my annoyance, but before I can say anything, I notice his gaze drop to my waist, his brows furrowing slightly. "You've lost weight?"

I freeze for a moment, caught off guard. How on earth does he even know that? It wasn't intentional-just the result of late-night study sessions and skipped meals, a consequence of pushing myself too hard. But how would he notice?

I recover quickly, forcing a shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Zaid's eyes flicker with something resembling concern, but he doesn't press. He lets out a small sigh, as if he wants to say more, but something holds him back. For a fleeting second, I wonder if he actually cares. But before I can dwell on the thought, the murmur of the crowd draws our attention.

"It's time for the rings," someone announces.

I turn towards the stage where the velvet cushions holding the rings await, gleaming under the lights. A wave of anxiety washes over me, but I shake it off, reminding myself of my resolve. This isn't permanent. This engagement is nothing more than an elaborate show, a charade I'll escape from one way or another.

Zaid glances at me from the corner of his eye, his playful smirk gone, replaced by something more serious. It almost unsettles me, the way he looks, as though he's suddenly seeing me in a different light. But before I can even process what's happening, he steps forward, holding out his hand, waiting for me to follow.

I hesitate for a split second, my heart racing in my chest as I glance at Zaid's outstretched hand. The dimmed lights cast a soft glow over the gathering, making everything feel even more surreal. Everyone is watching us-our families, friends, all waiting for this moment to unfold.

My hand trembles slightly as I place it in his. His fingers are warm and surprisingly gentle as he closes them around mine, pulling me towards the center of the stage. The noise of the crowd dulls to a faint hum in the background, but I can feel the weight of every gaze on us.

My eyes flit to my mom, who's smiling brightly, and then to his parents, who are standing with proud smiles. I feel a pang in my chest-Dad isn't here. Of course he isn't. I'm his unwanted daughter, an inconvenience, something that doesn't fit into his perfect world. The thought makes my stomach twist, and for a moment, I wish I could run from this whole thing.

But then, Zaid's grip tightens ever so slightly, grounding me, pulling me back into the moment. His eyes meet mine, and there's something there, a silent reassurance. I exhale softly, trying to shake off the nerves, but the anxiety still gnaws at me.

The Tiffany ring sparkles under the chandelier as Zaid picks it up from the velvet cushion. I stare at it, the delicate band encrusted with diamonds-a symbol of everything this engagement is supposed to be. Elegant. Perfect. Expensive.

But fake.

Zaid takes my hand in his again, and the room feels like it's closing in as he gently slides the ring onto my finger. The cool metal grazes my skin, fitting snugly, as if it belongs there. My breath hitches, and I can hear the collective excitement from the crowd-girls hooting, someone whistling, the applause growing louder.

"Is that Tiffany?" someone from the crowd yells, and a ripple of excitement spreads through the audience.

Zaid raises a brow, smirking slightly as he glances at me. "Nice try on giving me wrong sizes but I can judge after a single glance at your hand" his voice is soft, teasing, but there's something deeper beneath it.

I manage a small nod, trying to calm the storm inside me. "It's fine," I reply, my tone is less confident than I'd like.

He chuckles softly, leaning in just enough so only I can hear. "Fine? Thanks me that I spent this much for someone like you."

I roll my eyes, trying to regain some composure. "Yeah I know way out of your league."

His smirk grows wider, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Noted."

Before I can retort, someone hands me his ring-a sleek platinum band. My fingers feel unsteady as I pick it up, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I glance at Zaid, who's watching me with that infuriatingly calm expression.

"This is unwanted" I mutter under my breath, trying to mask my nerves with sarcasm.

He leans in closer, his voice low, playful. "Once this ring is on my finger I'd be officially yours and you're mine to ruin"

I narrow my eyes, refusing to let him get the upper hand. "I'd love to be the one ruining," I mumble as I take his hand. His skin is warm, his pulse steady beneath my fingertips. I slide the ring onto his finger, the metal catching the light as it settles into place.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the cheers, "you don't look half bad as a cotton candy."

I blink, caught off guard by the softness in his tone. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Zaid smirks, leaning in close enough that his breath tickles my ear. "Take it however you want."

I glance down at our hands, now adorned with the rings that mark this strange, twisted arrangement. My heart is still racing, my mind spinning. I don't know what's happening between us, or why he's suddenly being... different. It's probably because of his revenge.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

(To be clear: the Ayzal Malik in this chapter is not Ayan's sister or related with Azlan Malik, they are another characters from the book "feel me")

Zaid's smirk still lingers as we return to the sofa. I sit beside him, my heart racing, mind spinning with all the unfamiliar emotions brewing between us. He's close enough that our shoulders brush, but neither of us moves away. The ring on my finger feels heavy, a symbol of this twisted, rival-turned-fiancé situation. He's been different tonight, softer, but that doesn't erase years of hatred between us. No, this is temporary. A means to an end. At least for me. I have to remind myself of that, though the steady beat of his pulse from earlier is difficult to ignore.

A round of murmur echoes around the room, but I'm lost in thought, staring at the way my hand looks next to Zaid's. Suddenly, the noise around us dies down, and a hush falls over the gathering. The shift in attention pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up just as the doors swing open.

All eyes are on a couple walking toward the stage.

My gaze narrows in on the woman first, and for good reason. She's stunning. Her long, dark brown hair cascades in loose waves down her back, and her large eyes, framed by thick lashes, seem to sparkle under the chandelier lights. But it's her smile-a cute, bunny-like grin-that steals the show. Her hand is curled possessively around the bicep of a tall, muscular man with glasses. He moves with the air of someone used to attention, though the only one he seems focused on is the woman at his side.

"That's Adam Caine," Zaid mutters under his breath, and I catch the flicker of annoyance in his voice. "King of England."

My eyebrows shoot up. Of course. Adam Caine, the literal king, is striding into Zaid's engagement party like it's just another Friday night. But what surprises me more is the way his gaze immediately lands on Zaid with a wicked grin tugging at his lips.

"Zaid" Adam calls out, voice filled with playful mockery. "I was surprised to know that you're getting engaged with your favorite person"

Zaid rolls his eyes, but there's a reluctant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Good to see you too, Adam."

The king's grin widens as he approaches. "Didn't think I'd miss out on this, did you? Watching you tie yourself to someone who would probably stab you in your sleep... priceless."

I glare at Adam, even though I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Zaid is friends with the actual king of England. Before I can form a snarky retort, the woman-Ayzal Malik-steps forward, her smile softening as her gaze meets mine.

"Ayra, right?" she says, her voice is warm and inviting. "Zaid's told me a lot about you."

I raise a brow. "I'm sure it was all bad."

She laughs, and it's the kind of laugh that immediately puts you at ease. "You'd be surprised that all he spoke about you was good." Her eyes flicker toward Zaid for a second before meeting mine again. "But I'm more interested in what you have to say."

"I'd say he's getting what he deserves," I mutter, crossing my arms. "And I'm here for it."

Ayzal's grin widens. "Spoken like a true rival. I like you already."

Before I can respond, my attention shifts to Adam, who's now pulled Ayzal to his side with a casual possessiveness that catches me off guard. He leans down, whispering something in her ear that makes her blush, her bunny smile growing even wider. There's something magnetic about the way he looks at her, as if she's the center of his universe.

"Adam, stop," Ayzal giggles, nudging him playfully, though there's no hiding the affection in her eyes.

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before turning his attention back to Zaid, though his arm remains firmly wrapped around Ayzal's waist. "You know, Zaid, if you'd told me sooner that you were planning on getting engaged to the young lady here," he gestures toward me, "I would've warned her. You're an asshole for this pretty innocent lady"

I snort, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with Adam. "You're not wrong."

Adam turns his sharp gaze toward me, his grin widening with mischievous delight. "Ayra," he begins, his tone light yet edged with teasing. "How does it feel being officially tied to the most insufferable man in this room?"

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "It's like a constant migraine, but with less relief."

Adam throws his head back with a laugh, the sound booming across the room. "I knew it! You're just as sharp-tongued as Zaid said you were. Brilliant."

Zaid groans beside me, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Don't you have more important work to do as a king, Adam."

"This is far more interesting besides my love wanted to come here"

Adam leans in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. "Listen, if you ever decide to kill him, make sure to invite me to the funeral. I wouldn't miss the chance to laugh at his miserable end."

I snort, the mental image of Adam standing over Zaid's grave, mocking him in front of mourners, a little too vivid. "I'll keep that in mind," I reply dryly, a smirk tugging at my lips. "You might get an invite sooner than you think."

Zaid shakes his head, glaring at Adam with exasperation. "I see you're in top form tonight."

Ayzal takes a seat beside me as Adam and Zaid are busy chatting on I wonder what? Her gaze flicking to Zaid, then back to me, as if she sees something I'm missing.

"You know," she begins gently, "I was watching the two of you. You remind me of my uncle Rohan."

I blink, not quite sure where she's going with this. "Your uncle? Why? Did he marry someone he hated too?"

Ayzal chuckles softly, shaking her head. "In a way, yes. He and aunt Haya, they couldn't stand each other. He'd always say the most terrible things about her, how she drove him insane. But life has a funny way of changing things."

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Really? What happened?"

A knowing smile tugs at Ayzal's lips. "They got married. And now they're madly in love. They bicker all the time, still tease each other like it's a competition, but the love is undeniable. I think sometimes, when people push against each other so much, it's because they're afraid of something bigger. Maybe even afraid of love."

I scoff, glancing over at Zaid, who's distracted by his phone for the moment. "Love? With him?" I shake my head. "I can't ever love Zaid. He's insufferable."

Ayzal tilts her head slightly, her smile softening. "You say that now, but sometimes the people we least expect become the ones we can't live without. Just... don't close yourself off to the possibility. You might be surprised."

Her words linger, echoing in my mind as I try to brush them off. Me, in love with Zaid? No chance. But Ayzal's calm, quiet confidence makes me pause for just a second longer than I'm comfortable with.

She rises from her seat, smoothing her dress. "Anyway, just a thought. It's up to you, Ayra. But life has a funny way of working things out." She gives me one last smile before turning toward Adam, who's waiting for her with his usual patient expression.

Adam grins as she joins him, his arm slipping naturally around her waist. "Ready to head out love?"

Ayzal nods, glancing back at me with a wink. "Good luck with him," she teases. "You'll need it."

With that, they leave together, Adam's hand lingering protectively on Ayzal's back as they exit the room. I watch them go, thinking about the chemistry they shared.

The night feels endless as the last of the guests filter out, leaving behind the remnants of a celebration that, to me, feels more like a battlefield. I glance down at the ring on my finger, the cool metal a reminder of what just transpired. A twisted arrangement indeed.

I spot Ayra standing a few feet away, her back to me, as her best friends-Hoorain, Inaya, and Maha-approach her on the stage. They've been with her through everything, and I can tell by their anxious expressions that something's off. But before I can make a move, our parents make their way toward us, my father with his usual calm presence, and my mother already wearing a concerned frown.

As Ayra stands, I notice a slight wobble in her step. Her face pales, and in that moment, I know exactly what's going on. She's been skipping meals again. My blood simmers. She thinks no one notices, thinks that her reply to an anonymous blog writer goes to void. And I've been the one on the other side, reading her thoughts, trying to help in the only way I know how. I shouldn't care but she's literally starving herself.

A gasp comes from her friends as Ayra sways, but before anyone can reach her, I'm already there, my arms around her, steadying her before she can fall. Her body leans into mine, and despite my annoyance, I feel a surge of protectiveness.

"You okay?," I mutter quietly, frustration lacing my words as I keep her close.

Her friends hover worriedly, but my mother steps in first, her eyes sweeping over Ayra with concern. "Is she alright, Zaid?"

My father nods, his face calm but focused. "You girls should stay with her at her house tonight," he says, addressing Ayra's friends. "She'll need all of you around. Zaid take care of our daughter"

Before anyone can respond, Ayra's mother steps forward, her hand clasping tightly around Ayra's wrist in a way that looks anything but gentle. "You shouldn't be feeling dizzy, Ayra," she hisses in a low voice meant only for her daughter, but I hear it. "You've embarrassed me enough tonight."

I feel a wave of anger rush through me as I notice Ayra wince under her mother's tight grip. My jaw tightens, and without a second thought, I remove Ayra's hand from her mother's grasp, stepping in between them.

"She's not just Ayra anymore," I say, my voice firm but quiet enough that it feels intimate. "She's going to be Ayra Zaid Mirza. And I won't tolerate any kind of misbehavior toward my fiancée."

Her mother's eyes widen slightly, but she says nothing, stepping back, her face a mask of irritation. Ayra leans into me again, and I glance down at her. She's still pale, her breathing shallow.

Without another word, I scoop her up into my arms, ignoring the murmurs of surprise around us. Ayra protests, her voice barely audible. "Zaid, put me down. I'm fine..."

But I cut her off, my voice sharp with concern. "Shut up and eat, Ayra."

Her friends follow closely behind as I carry her to the hall room, their worried glances darting between me and Ayra. Hoorain is already holding a plate of food, while Inaya grabs a glass of juice. Maha rushes ahead to open the door.

I set Ayra down gently on the couch, her friends quickly handing her the food. She shoots me an exasperated look, but I don't budge, folding my arms across my chest.

"Eat the food Ayra" I order, my voice leaving no room for argument.

She narrows her eyes at me, but the moment passes, and she starts to eat in small bites. Her friends hover around, offering her encouragement, but my eyes never leave her. She's stubborn, but I'm not letting this go.

As she eats, I feel the tension start to leave my body. But the anger lingers. Not at her- at her mother, how can someone behave like this with their own daughter?

As I settle into the couch next to Ayra, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The elders exchange glances, their expressions serious as they approach me. "Zaid," my mother begins, her voice soft yet firm, "you need to take care of Ayra. Make sure she gets home safely. She's clearly not well."

My father nods in agreement, and I can see the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. It's more than just a command; it's a protective instinct, and I can feel it coursing through me.

Meanwhile, Ayra's mother stands by, her posture rigid and her eyes scanning the room. I sense the undercurrent of tension as she announces that it's time for the girls to leave. "Ayra, let's go," she insists, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

Before Ayra can protest I reply at her behalf, "I'd drop my fiance safe and sound"

Her mother rolls her eyes and forces the girls to leave with her, reluctantly Ayra forced them to leave with her mother in their code language. Our family also went home keeping in mind that I'm there to protect Ayra.

The room quieting, I shift closer to her. I take a piece of food and lift it toward her lips, feeding her gently. "Here," I insist, watching as she hesitates before opening her mouth to take the bite.

Her brow furrows, and she swallows, her expression a mix of annoyance and confusion. "You don't have to pretend to care about me, Zaid," she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, letting her words wash over me in silence. There's a lump in my throat as I process her statement. Why would she think that? I'm not pretending. I genuinely care-maybe even more than I should.

But what confuses me even more is her mother's behavior. How could she act like this, dismissing Ayra's feelings so easily? I can't wrap my head around it, the way she undermines her daughter's struggles while pretending to be a caring parent.

As I sit there, my mind is racing, I notice Ayra's hand-a bruise forming where her mother had gripped it too tightly. Without thinking, I reach for a small ointment from my bag mom prepared in case of any emergency. "Your mother grabbed it too harshly," I say, squeezing a small amount onto my fingers.

Ayra raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You've become quite the caretaker, haven't you?"

I chuckle lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Just doing my part, you know. The charming fiancé act."

I apply the ointment gently to her hand, our fingers brushing lightly as I work it in, I feel the same urge to flex my hand that I felt at that abandoned building. Ayra watches me, her expression softening despite her earlier words. "Zaid I'm not habitual of this"

"Then let's make you habitual" I reply, smirking as I finish. "Besides, if I don't look out for you, who will?"

She rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Doesn't sound like someone who swore to ruin me"

"Hmm thankyou for reminding me" I tease back, leaning back against the couch. "Anyways saari Zindagi mere Saath ho Jo bhi Karna hai karlunga"

(You're with me the entire life so I'll do whatever I want later or sooner)

Ayra snorts, her grumpy look remains "this is a temporary engagement"

I grin, feeling the warmth between us grow just a little. "I know..you and I are never meant to be"

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

Hey everyone I hope y'all are doing fine and well ❤️‍🩹

This is my first ever book Collab with one of my all time fav author (AUTHOR AYESHA!)

if you wanna read about Adam and Ayzal's story then what are you waiting for? Go and read feel me now!

How was today's chapter?

Yeah it's an early update because the next chapter contains a very "close to my heart" scene.

(Hint: it's going to be Inayan)

Next week I won't be able to update a chapter because my exams are going on 😔 don't worry I'll make it up for that with double updates.

Thankyou so muchhh for the love y'all are showering on this book.

Don't forget to vote and comment.

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Till the stay safe and healthy 💖