36| Fashion Disaster

For the first time in forever, I finally felt the strings beneath my fingers. The memory clings to me like the faint hum of a melody—gentle, persistent. The bonfire, the warmth of the flames, the way everyone had looked at me with something close to awe. And her.

Ayra.

The thought of her makes my chest tighten. The way her eyes had been fixed on me, wide and unblinking, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

But no. I shake my head sharply, pushing the thought aside. Forget it, Zaid. It's just temporary. A fleeting moment that won’t last, just like everything else.

The car comes to a stop in front of the girls’ hostel, jolting me from my thoughts. We say our goodbyes, the girls laughing and teasing as they head inside. I watch Ayra's retreating figure for a second longer than I should, then quickly look away.

We drive back in relative silence, the boys equally worn out from the trip. The house comes into view, its familiar structure illuminated against the night sky. I barely step inside when—

"Surprise!"

The sudden shout catches me off guard. I blink, disoriented, as our entire family floods the entrance, clapping and cheering. Zahra and Zainab are the first to pull me into a tight hug, nearly knocking the breath out of me.

"Finally!" Zahra exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Before I can ask what's going on, my father steps forward. His eyes are unusually bright, his voice thick with emotion as he envelops me in a firm embrace.

"My son" he says, his tone trembling. "You have no idea how happy I am right now"

I freeze, my mind racing. Happy? For what?

"What happened?" I ask, my voice edged with concern as I pull back to look at him. "Is everything okay?"

He nods, a smile breaking through the emotion on his face. "You played. After all these years, you played. You sang."

Ah.

The realization hits me, and I glance around the room, noting the wide smiles and teary eyes of my family. They must've seen a video—probably one of Ayan's doing. Even though dad portrayed himself as this tough hardcore male Infront of the world, I know he still cries on the fact that he broke my guitar that day. He blames himself for every smile I've lost and no matter how many times I tell him that some guitar won't change my love for him...yet, he's regretful.

"You don't understand," my father continues, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Seeing you like that … It's been so long, beta. Too long."

For a moment, I don't know what to say. The weight of his words, the raw emotion in his voice—it's overwhelming.

I feel something soft nudge my leg, and I look down to see Zoro, my fluffy white dog, wagging his tail furiously. His bright eyes seem to mirror the joy filling the room.

"Zoro!" I crouch down, running my fingers through his fur as he nuzzles into me. His warmth, his familiar scent—it’s grounding in a way nothing else is.

Laughter and chatter fill the space as my family surrounds me, their happiness palpable. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel a sense of peace.

No tension, no heaviness, just the quiet contentment of being surrounded by love.

And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, her face lingers.

Ayra.

The way she looked at me as I strummed those strings, as I sang those words…

I shake my head again, this time with a faint smile tugging at my lips. Forget it, Zaid. It doesn't mean anything.

Or does it?

The dorm room is unusually quiet tonight, the faint sound of breathing from my roommates filling the space. Maha's out like a light, probably dreaming about some chaotic mischief she'll rope us into tomorrow. Ayra is bundled up in her blanket cocoon, mumbling in her sleep, while Hoorain clutches her pillow like it's a lifeline.

And me? Well, I'm wide awake, scrolling through Instagram on my phone, the glow of the screen casting a soft light on my face.

I open the chat with Ayan. No replies.

My brows furrow. That's...weird. Ayan never takes this long. He's usually the first to respond to my snarky messages or send some annoying flirty comeback. Yeah even if we've just returned from a road trip and it's normal for him to sleep.

I tap back to his profile. No new stories. No activity. Suspicious.

I huff, tossing my phone onto the bed, then immediately pick it back up. Frustration bubbles under my skin. If he thinks he can ghost me, he's sorely mistaken. Wait... What if he dropped us here and went to a club or whatever? No Inaya that's too much.

A slow grin spreads across my face as an idea forms. I swipe through my saved reels...funny ones, cute ones, overly dramatic couple ones...and start forwarding them to him. One after the other. I don't stop until I've sent at least a hundred.

"Let's see how you like being spammed, Mr. Ansari" I mutter under my breath, satisfied.

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains wakes me before my alarm. I groan, reaching for my phone out of habit. I always check Instagram first—it's basically muscle memory at this point.

As soon as I open the app, my notifications explode. My eyes widen as I see Ayan's name pop up repeatedly in my DMs.

I click on the chat, and my jaw drops.

Paragraphs.

Literal paragraphs.

Each reel I sent has a detailed reply. For the one about a couple arguing over food, he wrote: "This is you and me, except you'd probably steal my fries, not vice versa."

For the reel of a girl laughing at her boyfriend's terrible jokes, he commented: "This is so relatable because you laugh at my jokes even when they're bad. Admit it."

And for my favorite one—a sweet, emotional clip of a guy surprising his girl—he wrote: "I could totally do better than this. Challenge accepted."

I scroll through, equal parts amused and stunned. He replied to everything.

Then, at the very end of the chat, a new message pops up.

"Check outside your dorm room"

Curious, I toss my blanket aside and tiptoe toward the dorm entrance. When I open the door, I gasp.

Sitting there is a bouquet—not of flowers, but of chocolates. My favorite chocolates, arranged like a floral masterpiece. Attached to it is a small, handwritten note:

"Was making this, that’s why I couldn't reply. Remember you mentioned it on our trip?"

He remembered!!!!!!

My heart flips. I do remember. It was a fleeting comment I'd made about how much I'd love a bouquet of chocolates over one of flowers, but I never thought he'd take it seriously and make it himself... Well... I never imagined it.

I pick up the bouquet, my cheeks warming as I bring it back to my bed. My phone buzzes with a new message from him:

"So, did I outdo the reel guy or not?"

I smile, biting my lip as I type back: "Let's just say you've set the bar pretty high."

His reply comes almost instantly: "Good. I like winning. Especially if it's you"

I shake my head, laughing softly. Ayan might be the most frustrating person I've ever met, but somehow, he always knows exactly how to make my day.

He's the kind of guy I'll sacrifice the essence of chocolates for, forget about all the fictional men for, stop overthinking for.

He's my north star.

Gosh I love him so muchhh!!!

Should I laugh, cry or break someone's head? Because at this moment all of them feel the same.

The designs I'd poured my soul into, the sleepless nights sketching, the endless cups of coffee, hours of brainstorming and crossing every length...even fake dating Rayan-- all of it..gone not just gone but stolen.

By IQRA.

Ofcourse it's her. Turns out that even after sneaking into university to get back my designs, wasn't enough as she had a copy of it stored already. She made sure to submit her designs before I could so that the theme would be restricted for me.

BUT I WAS THE ONE TO COME UP WITH A SPORTS FASHION LINE!!

I sink into my chair, clutching my sketchbook tightly. My mind whirls, but all it settles on is one horrifying thought:

I'm doomed.

This fashion gala isn't just some assignment which will be counted for my final grades... But it's my entire career. I won't be receiving my degree if I fail to achieve satisfactory remarks by the judging panel, leaving me with only one consequence that is going through a supplementary examination which will decide if I'm allowed to repeat my year in Aurelian or expelled.

I don't have a concept, a theme or any sketch! And I'm left with two days for the registration of designs.

"That—" Ayra pauses, visibly bristling, "that's unacceptable. That witch. I swear—"

All of us (by all of us I mean all the boys and girls from the road trip. Yeah, we've created a great bond in that while) are gathered in my office and reacting to this disaster.

"Calm down, Ayra," Hoorain interjects, though her face is pale with shock. "Let's think this through. There has to be a way—"

"There's no way!" I snap, the frustration boiling over. "She's registered it. My theme is unusable now. Months of work… wasted. I can't come up with a sports line now"

"It's not wasted," Hoorain says softly, her tone soothing. "You still have your talent, Maha. You can come up with something new."

"In less than a week?" I laugh bitterly. "Some theme which has never been introduced in Aurelain's history and will manage to shock world's best designers... Be realistic Hoor"

"I trust you Maha, we can do something about it" Inaya chirps, although I can tell that she has imagined me getting kicked out of the University already... Overthinkers be like.

Rayan's jaw tightens, his fists clenching at his sides. "You're kidding me"

"Does she look like she's kidding?" Ayra snaps.

For a moment, there's silence, and then Rayan takes a step closer, his voice low and firm. "She's not getting away with this. I promise"

"And how do you plan to stop her?” I ask, my voice shaking. "It's already done. She's probably sitting in her room right now, celebrating her victory."

"We'll figure something out," Rayan says with a conviction that slices through my panic.

"Exactly," Ayan chimes in, leaning against the wall. His usual playfulness is gone, replaced by an unusually serious expression. "We're not letting some second-rate plagiarizer ruin your shot, Maha."

"Guys the speeches won't help her right now, it's her career on stake. We need a proper solution" Zaid affirms and it only enhances my tension... Ofcourse my career... my dream.

"Exactly guys there's always a solution to every problem, we're just too worried to look at it" Ahad Bhai adds into the conversation but I can't happen to find anything that can possibly get me out from this hole.

"Thanks bhai but unless one of you has a time machine, I'm done," I mutter, my voice hollow.

"Enough." Ayan's voice is sharp. "We're not giving up. She's not smarter than you, Maha. She just knows how to cheat. And cheaters don't win."

"I don't see how that helps me right now," I say bitterly.

"Think," Rayan says, his tone commanding. "You're a designer. Creativity is your strength. If anyone can come up with some better idea than your previous one, it's you. You yourself are the way out of any problem Maha, you just need to see it"

The room falls silent for a moment, his words echoing in my mind. Everyone's eyes are on me, their belief in me so palpable it's almost suffocating. But... what if they're right?

My thoughts race, grasping for anything—any tiny fragment of an idea that could save me. And then it strikes, a faint glimmer buried in the back of my mind.

"Wait," I murmur, straightening.

"What?" Ahad bhai asks, leaning forward eagerly.

"I had this... obsession once," I begin slowly, the pieces falling into place as I speak. "It was a concept for a fashion show I dreamed about a while back. I even sketched designs for it."

"Are you serious right now?" Hoorain's voice rises slightly, tinged with hope.

I nod, my heartbeat quickening. "I think I still have those sketches. They were different—something I didn't think I could pull off back then. But maybe..."

"Then let’s see them," Inaya says firmly.

Without wasting another second, I dart toward my cupboard, practically tearing through the drawers. My hands shake as I sift through old notebooks and loose papers, hoping—praying—that I still have what I’m looking for.

And then I find it.

A battered sketchbook with its corners curling from years of use. I flip it open, my breath catching as the designs stare back at me. The theme was love—a story told through fabric and silhouettes, each piece representing a different facet of the emotion. Written in stars. Heartbreak. Healing. It was bold, intricate, and unapologetically me.

I turn around, holding the sketchbook tightly as I face my friends. Slowly, I place it on the table, flipping through the pages.

Everyone crowds around, and as their eyes move across the designs, silence falls over the room.

"This... you made this?" Ayan asks, his tone laced with awe.

"These are amazing," Ayra whispers, tracing a finger over one of the sketches.

"This is genius," Rayan says quietly, his brows furrowed as he studies the designs. "It's better than what you had before. This is you, Maha."

My heart swells, a flicker of pride breaking through the doubt that's been weighing me down. I hid this idea not because it wasn't worth showcasing, but I thought I couldn't carry it out as the challenge to showcase such huge narratives through a fabric was really hard.

"It's not finished," I say, my voice shaking slightly. "We'll need to refine it, tweak some of the details... but I think it could work."

"It will work," Zaid says confidently. "And we're going to help you make it happen."

I glance around at their determined faces, the weight in my chest lifting just a little.

"Thank you," I whisper, and for the first time since this nightmare started, I feel a glimmer of hope.

With their unwavering support, I know one thing for certain—I'm not giving up. Not now, not ever.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

The night feels like it's stretching on forever. My workspace is littered with sketches, fabric swatches, and notebooks filled with designs, but my mind is still racing. There's so much to do, and I can't help but feel the weight of it all pressing down on me. My dreams—my future—are on the line.

But somehow, in the midst of all the chaos, I feel... him.

Rayan.

Yeah I'm still surprised on how the girls' agreed to leave so easily... But again I know why, they wanted me to stay here with Rayan because of some secret reason they aren't telling me.

I'm honestly blessed to have all of them by my side, the girls are working on my proposal and the rest of the boys are going through the contacts to get me the best fabrics from the renowned shops by tomorrow.

I glance over at Mr grumpiness, still in the corner of my room, quietly watching me. I'm so wrapped up in my work, in trying to get every detail right, that I forget to look after myself.

"All yours to stare at Maha but I guess work needs you more" he says, breaking through my thoughts. His calm voice assuring me and also painting my cheeks with scarlet shade.

I look up at him, trying to fight off the exhaustion that's creeping in. "I just need to get this right," I murmur, reaching for the water bottle beside me.

I take a sip from the bottle, feeling the cool water refresh me, but it's Rayan's presence that really soothes my fraying nerves. His hand lingers on mine for a second longer than necessary before he pulls away, his gaze softening as he watches me. It's like he's memorizing every moment, as if he wants to be here even when I'm at my worst.

"You know," he starts, his voice low, "you're not going to win this show by exhausting yourself to the point of collapse." His words are blunt, but I can hear the care behind them, the concern he's trying to hide behind his gruff tone.

I scoff, though it's weak. "I can't afford to stop. Not now. If I don't get this right, everything's over."

He shifts, walking around the table to stand next to me. He leans over my shoulder, his warmth radiating against my skin, and for a moment, I forget all the stress, all the chaos. He's just here. With me.

"Then let me help." His voice is quieter now, but there's a firmness in it, like he's made up his mind. He's not going anywhere.

I glance up at him, my heart skipping a beat. "Help? How?"

He just shrugs like it's no big deal. "How about I stop you from breaking another pencil?" he says with a small smirk, and before I can react, he takes the pencil from my hand and hands me a new one.

I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."

He tilts his head, that look in his eyes that always gets me—part teasing, part something softer. "Maybe, but I think you're kind of ridiculous too, you know." He reaches out and wipes the beads of sweat from my face, it's a simple gesture but it makes my heart flutter in a way I can't explain.

I stare at him for a beat, caught off guard by the tenderness that has snuck its way into his actions. "You're not... like how I thought you'd be," I admit, a little breathless.

Rayan's lips curl into a small, almost shy smile. "I can be more than just a grumpy footballer but only for a crazy fashion designer" He nudges my arm gently with his, his gaze never leaving mine. "Now, how about you take a break? I'll keep you company while you work. Just... don't break anything else or me"

I scowl and pinch his nose, obviously I'm beating him up for calling me crazy every chance he gets, no matter how sexy it sounds. "Ow crazy girl what the-"

"Save your what the Mr rhino and I'm not crazy?"

He rubs his nose and glances at me with his forever straight face, "you are and I'll always call you crazy"

Hmm... always sounds good... That means he wants to stay with me always.

I chuckle and pull him closer by his collar, "no worries Rayan Khan... continue calling me crazy it actually turns me on"

Rayan's face still hasn't fully recovered from the blush I managed to put there, but I can't help teasing him as he tries to look everywhere but at me. His awkwardness is just too adorable for words.

"Filter… M-Maha, learn to hesitate," he stammers, his voice low, the words barely coming out right. I burst into laughter, feeling my heart soar at the sight of him so flustered. Never in a million years did I think I'd get Rayan Khan of all people to blush.

I wipe my tears of laughter and sit back down at my desk, trying to refocus on my sketch, but the joy of teasing him is still lingering in my chest. The hours pass, and slowly, the sketches start to come together. It's well into the night, the only sound in the room is the occasional scratch of my pencil and the soft rustle of the papers. I'm almost done when I hear Rayan's voice from the doorway.

"I brought you something," he says casually, though I can see the food in his hands. I can't help but feel a swell of gratitude.

I look up from my work and meet his gaze. "You didn't have to—"

"You haven't eaten all day, and it's late," he interrupts, setting the food down on the table next to me. "Just eat, Maha."

My heart skips a beat. I wasn't expecting him to care so much, but here he is, always thinking of me, even when I'm too caught up in my own world to take care of myself. I’m quiet for a moment before I smile at him. "Thank you."

He watches me, his expression softer now. I show him the final sketches, and his lips curl into a smile as he studies them. "They're amazing, Maha," he says, his voice genuine. "You really outdid yourself."

I beam at him, my chest swelling with pride. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do," he says with a chuckle. "Now, eat. You're going to need your energy to keep being awesome." I laugh knowing how hard it is for Rayan to express his emotions yet, here he is caring for me and I'm really grateful for that.

I shake my head, feeling the weight of the day catching up with me. "I don't know if I can eat, I just want to sleep now."

Rayan rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. "I swear, you're impossible." Without warning, he walks over, scoops me up from the chair effortlessly, and carries me toward the sofa.

"Woah, hey! You're obsessed with picking me up!" I exclaim, laughing as I grab onto him, surprised at how easily he lifts me.

He chuckles, the sound warm and affectionate. "Yeah, I am now. Now sit here and eat." He gently places me on the sofa, making sure I'm comfortable, and hands me the food. Did he think I am an elephant or what? He literally brought everything... Fries, burgers, noodles, popcorn, coldrinks, sandwiches and what not.

"Did you think you were feeding an entire community?" I ask, my stomach grumbling as I smell the the food.

"Maha will you please shut up and eat" I roll my eyes and focus on my food. Too good to argue.

"Rayan, do you know it's an international football match right now?" I ask, watching him settle beside me.

"Obviously," he replies with a lazy grin, pulling a piece of food toward him.

I look at him, my curiosity piqued. "Which teams?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Don't remember maybe including cowboys."

I blink, surprised by his answer. "Wait, what? You're not watching the game?" I can't believe it. Rayan Khan, football fanatic, not watching an international match?"

He meets my gaze, his expression softening. "No, because I'm with you. And you're more valuable than a match."

I feel my cheeks flush, and for a moment, I'm speechless. I quickly compose myself, trying to hide my smile. "Well," I say, trying to brush it off, "we can still watch it together." I get up and flick the TV on, changing the channel to the match.

Rayan grins, pulling me back down beside him. "I like the sound of that. Let's see if these teams are worth missing you for."

I settle beside Rayan, the couch feeling suddenly a lot warmer with him close, and turn my attention to the TV, ready to watch the match. But I can’t help myself; I'm practically on the edge of the couch, my eyes glued to the screen, hands gripping the sides of my sandwich as if it might give me some extra luck.

Rayan, on the other hand, is casually eating his burger with a fork and a knife. Yeah... Rayan is really weird I mean who eats a burger with a fork and a knife! The audacity this man has to call ME crazy.

I can't help but comment. "I think that player should've passed it earlier. The guy on the left was wide open!"

Rayan glances at me, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's holding back a smile. "Mm-hmm, sure. Totally right. That's totally what he should've done."

I roll my eyes at him. "I'm serious! He could've made the play so much better!"

He chuckles softly, looking at me with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure. Your football knowledge is unmatched, Maha."

I squint at him, about to retort, when a player on the field makes a questionable tackle, and the referee pulls out a red card. I gasp, looking to Rayan as if I'm the football expert here. "What why did he get a red card?"

Rayan tilts his head, one eyebrow raised. "Obviously, he had to. It was a clear foul."

"No!" I exclaim, shaking my head. "Rayan, you don't know anything about football!" I wag my finger at him dramatically. "I bet they're going to call him back. It's not even a foul. Look, he's going to argue!"

I watch intently as the player makes his way off the field, and I can practically hear Rayan's sarcastic tone when he says, "Of course. Clearly, they made a huge mistake, Maha."

I cross my arms over my chest, giving him an exaggerated pout. "There has to be a mistake, right?" I say, half to myself, still watching the screen for any signs of a reversal. Even though I don't know anything about football and Rayan practically devours it, I still won't admit I'm wrong.

Rayan simply shrugs with a lazy smile, looking at me from the corner of his eye. "You just keep believing that, Maha. It's cute."

I start to yap on about how wrong the ref is, listing every point I can think of, but the more I talk, the more I can feel him tuning me out a little. At least, that's what I think, until the ball is passed downfield and—boom—a beautiful goal is scored. The crowd roars, and I let out a shout of excitement.

"Yes! That's how it's done!" I jump up, my arms flailing, and before I know it, I'm literally on top of Rayan, throwing my arms around his neck in a tight hug. His body stiffens for a moment, then he lets out a laugh, his hands instinctively going around me to steady me as I settle on his lap.

His chest rumbles with laughter, and I pull back just enough to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes catches me off guard, and for a second, the world outside the match fades away. It's just us. I can see the warmth in his expression, the little glint of affection in his eyes that he doesn’t always show.

We both stay there, caught in that moment of unspoken understanding.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he mutters, his voice low, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

I shake my head, grinning widely. "Crazily awesome"

He rolls his eyes, though there's a soft fondness in his gaze. "Any more new theories about football captain Maha?"

I laugh softly, my heart fluttering at his words. When the final whistle blows, I glance up at him, and for a moment, I catch the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "You know, you were right about that goal," he says, his tone soft and teasing. "You're not completely crazy after all."

I raise an eyebrow. "Did I just hear you admit that I know more than you?"

"Nope, I definitely know more than you when it's football"

We both stay there, caught in that moment of unspoken understanding. The quiet hum of the TV in the background feels distant compared to the proximity of Rayan beside me. The match is over, but somehow, everything feels just right. He’s still got that smile on his face, but it’s not the usual teasing grin I’m used to seeing. It’s softer, almost like he’s letting his guard down, even if it’s just for this moment.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he mutters, his voice low, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

I shake my head, grinning widely. "Crazily awesome."

He rolls his eyes, though there's a soft fondness in his gaze. "Any more new theories about football captain Maha?"

I laugh softly, my heart fluttering at his words. But then, the final whistle blows, and for a second, everything stills. I glance up at him, and in that brief pause, I catch the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

"You know, you were right about that goal," he says, his tone soft and teasing. "You're not completely crazy after all."

I raise an eyebrow. "Did I just hear you admit that I know more than you?"

"Nope," he says, his voice teasing, "I definitely know more than you when it's football."

I laugh, feeling that familiar warmth between us, before I reach for my sandwich, still trying to steady my breath from the excitement of the game. Rayan, however, does something that completely takes me off guard. He picks up his sandwich with a fork, delicately holding it like he's eating something fancy.

"How can you eat that like that?" I laugh, watching him with a bemused expression. "Does it even taste good?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, his usual nonchalance somehow making him even more adorable. "You can try it if you're curious."

And before I can even process what's happening, he holds the fork out to me, offering me a bite.

I blink, a little shocked. Rayan never shares his food. I mean, never. The guy has a strict "mine" policy when it comes to his meals. He doesn't even share his spoon. I swallow hard, eyeing the fork for a second before I take a deep breath and accept.

I take the bite, chewing carefully, and then immediately make a face, trying to hide my disgust. "That's horrible," I say, but I can't help the giggle that escapes me. I give him an exaggerated look of disbelief, shaking my head. "How do you eat that? It's like... a crime against food."

Rayan chuckles, unfazed by my reaction, and continues eating his own sandwich, completely at ease. I half expect him to give me a cheeky comment, but instead, he just keeps his eyes on the TV, a smile still playing on his lips.

I go back to my own sandwich, still trying to recover from the shock of actually eating off his fork. I mean, did I really just do that? With his fork? I thought maybe he'd switch it out or something. But no. He just went on with his meal as if nothing happened.

As I'm eating, I feel something cold brush against my lips. I pause mid-bite, confused, until I feel a soft wipe against my mouth.

I blink in surprise to see Rayan wiping sauce off my lips, his eyes focused entirely on me. His fingers hover near my lips, a slight chuckle escaping him.

"You had some mayo," he murmurs, his voice low, almost tender.

My heart skips a beat, and I blink at him, trying to process what just happened. "Huh well what?"

Rayan shrugs casually, though his eyes twinkle with mischief. "What, you didn't want to be walking around with mayo all over your face?"

I freeze for a second, my heart racing faster than before. He's so close, his fingers still lingering near my lips. It’s one of those moments where everything feels amplified—the soft warmth of his touch, the faint scent of his cologne, the way he's looking at me, as if nothing else matters in this moment.

I feel the heat rush to my cheeks, and I try to hide my blush by taking another bite of my sandwich. But I can't help it. My heart is still racing.

I glance at him, a bit flustered, and catch the slight grin playing on his lips. "Rayan, you're… you're weird," I mumble, but there's a smile tugging at my own lips now.

He chuckles again, that sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Yeah, I'm weird. But I kind of like that you don't mind."

I don't respond immediately. Instead, I just keep looking at him, feeling the softness of his gaze, the warmth between us.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe, just maybe, this crazy, messy relationship with Rayan might actually be something worth holding onto.

I'm back from the trip, and my energy feels... recharged. Maha's completed her designs—finally—and now all the focus is on turning them into jaw-dropping dresses. Things are falling into place for her, which is a huge relief.

But at this moment, I've got more things to worry about. Specifically, the fact that Zaid and I are standing in front of the dean's office door like we're awaiting a death sentence.

Zaid glances down at me, his expression a mix of curiosity and annoyance. "Why do you think he called us here?"

I smirk, tilting my head. "Pata nahi. Wo actually mujhse pooch kar nahi bulaya na"

(Don't know. Actually he didn't call us after asking me no)

He rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, "har baat pe Ulta jawab Dena zaruri nahi hota"

(You don't have to have weird replies to every question)

I'm about to add another sarcastic jab, but then the door swings open, revealing Dean Alvi. He looks calm, collected, and way too serious. Why is he calling us here at this moment looking like he's about to bash us?

"Come in," he says, gesturing for us to enter.

Zaid and I exchange a quick glance before stepping into the office. As we take our seats, the dean's sharp gaze settles on us.

"So" he begins, leaning forward slightly, "any idea why I've called you both here?"

I mean what kind of question is that? How would we know the reason? I can't help myself. "Because you finally realized you need better coffee in the cafeteria?"

Zaid's head snaps toward me, and his expression screams Really, Ayra?

I clear my throat quickly. "Okay, sorry. I need to work on that habit. Please continue." Thankfully the dean knows me too well that I can't digest back a roasting reply, it kind of saves me from getting into problems.

The dean raises an eyebrow but thankfully ignores my comment. "Do either of you know about the GBC?"

Zaid and I freeze, and I feel my heart skip a beat.

The GBC. The Global Business Contest.

It's not just any competition; it's the competition. The kind where students from around the world present their innovative business ideas to a panel of global business tycoons. The kind where winning means instant recognition, investors lining up, and the kind of opportunity that can change your life forever.

"I—I've heard of it," I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady. Dreamed of it.

Zaid nods, his face is serious now. "It's a global platform. The best of the best compete there."

Dean Alvi smiles faintly. "Exactly. For years, Aurelian University has tried to qualify for this contest, and finally, we've succeeded. This year, we've been granted the opportunity to send two students."

My eyes widen. Two students?

"And we're proud to say," he continues, "that after evaluating academic records, performances, and achievements, we've selected you both to represent our university."

I blink, stunned. Zaid looks equally taken aback, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second.

"You're sending us?" I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," the dean replies. "You're our best students, and we believe you have what it takes to make an impact at the GBC. This year's event will be held in Switzerland, and you'll be competing against some of the brightest minds in the world. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and we expect you to make the most of it."

Switzerland. Switzerland!

I feel like someone just handed me the golden ticket to my dreams.

"You'll need to come up with a solid business idea," Dean Alvi continues. "You can consult any professor you feel comfortable with for guidance. The goal is simple: win."

Win. No pressure or anything.

I glance at Zaid, he's not looking at me like I'm his mortal enemy...well maybe because we're not enemy enemies anymore. His expression is unreadable, but I can tell he's processing the gravity of the moment just like I am.

"We won't let you down," Zaid finally says, his voice steady and full of determination.

I nod quickly. "Yes, we'll do our best. Thank you for trusting us with this."

The dean smiles. "Good. I'll leave the brainstorming to you two. Remember, this isn't just about representing yourselves—it's about representing Aurelian University and our entire country."

As we leave the office, the reality of what just happened hits me like a tidal wave.

"We're going to Switzerland," I whisper, more to myself than to Zaid.

Zaid glances at me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't get too excited. We still have to win."

"Oh, I'm excited," I retort, unable to hide my grin. "And we will win. I don't lose"

For once, he doesn't argue. Instead, he holds the door open for me, and as we step outside, the possibilities of what's to come feel endless.

This is my chance to bash all those claims of my dad on his face that girls can't do anything, to fulfill all those dreams of becoming a CEO, I need to win this at any cost.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

Hey guys I hope y'all are doing fine and well.

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