(Hey guys this one's gonna be a long chapter so pleaseee comment alottt... I love reading them ð)
I wonder what my ancestors did to put me in situations like this. Did they make deals with genies? Did they barter away their sanity in exchange for my unfiltered chaos? Because here I am, standing in the middle of Sadaqa Mansion, trying not to feel like I've been dropped into the set of a very dramatic soap opera.
The mansion is huge...scratch that, it's colossal. The kind of place where you could lose yourself for days and still not find the bathroom. The chandeliers are bigger than my entire hostel room, and the carpets? I'm pretty sure walking on them is a crime.
"Miss Maha, this way, please," says the butler..or maybe he's a bodyguard? I can't tell. His expression is so stiff it looks like smiling might cause him physical pain.
He escorts me through hallways that seem to stretch endlessly, every step echoing ominously. Finally, we reach a grand meeting room with floor-to-ceiling windows, an absurdly long table, and enough chairs to seat a parliament. It's both awe-inspiring and utterly terrifying.
I sit at the edge of one of the oversized chairs, swinging my legs like a kid who wandered into a royal court by accident. Get it together, Maha. You've faced scarier things than rich people in a big house.
The doors open, and in walk Rayan's parents. His mother is the epitome of elegance, her sharp features adorned with a sneer so polished it might as well be a family heirloom. His father? A carbon copy of Rayan but older, more stoic, and with an air that screams, I own everything you see.
"Good afternoon," I say, plastering on my brightest smile. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"
They don't respond. Not a nod, not a smile. Just cold, assessing stares that would make a lesser woman crumble.
Woah tough nuts.
"Miss Maha," his mother finally says, her voice dripping with disdain. "Let's not waste time with casualties."
"Great, because I'm starving," I say, clasping my hands on the table. "Shall we cut to the chase?"
Her sneer deepens. "We'll be blunt. You don't belong here. You don't belong with Rayan."
Oh I see?
I blink, pretending to be shocked. "Wow, straight to the point. I like it. Please, continue."
His father places a sleek black briefcase on the table, opening it to reveal bundles of cash, a stack of blank cheques, and what looks like property documents.
I whistle low, leaning forward. "Damn what a plot twist"
"It's an offer," his father says, his tone as cold as his gaze. "Take the money and leave our son."
I stare at the fortune spread before me, my mind racing. They actually think they can buy me off. This is incredible. Guys do I really look like someone who can be bought? Interesting.
"Oh my God," I whisper, eyes wide. "This is like a dream come true. I always joked about someone offering me money to leave my boyfriend, but I never thought it would actually happen!"
They exchange confused glances, clearly unsure how to react.
I pick up a bundle of cash, flipping through it like it's a deck of cards. "Is this all in hundreds? I feel like you could've gone bigger. Maybe throw in some gold bars next time."
"Miss Maha," his mother snaps, her patience clearly thinning, "this is not a joke."
"Neither is this," I say, holding up the money. "Did you know this could buy me an entire closet of designer shoes? Maybe even two closets."
Her sneer sharpens. "You're proving our point. You're nothing but a materialistic, middle-class girl with no place in our world."
I place the money back on the table and clasp my hands together, giving her my sweetest smile. "And yet here you are going to any lengths for convincing the same middle class girl to leave your son."
"I'maaa joking"
His father's jaw tightens. "You will take the money and leave him. That's final."
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, my eyes flitting between the towering stacks of cash and the blank cheques as if deciding which part of this comedy act deserves the most applause.
"You know," I say, picking up another bundle of cash and flipping through it like it's Monopoly money, "if you're trying to buy me out of Rayan's life, at least make it dramatic. Maybe throw in a sports car, or a yacht. This feels so⦠low effort. I didn't know your son was worth this money for you?"
Even if you keep the wealth of entire world on one side it'll still weigh less ahead of my rhino.
Rayan's mother looks like she wants to lunge across the table and throttle me, but she composes herself with a sharp inhale. "You're making a mockery of this."
"No, you're making a mockery of yourselves," I counter with a grin. "All this effort to get rid of a middle-class girl... who's clearly better than you give her credit for. I mean, think about it. If I'm so insignificant, why am I worth this much?"
Her lips press into a thin line, her sharp gaze practically stabbing me.
His father, who's been quiet for the most part, suddenly pulls out a cigar, lighting it with an air of practiced elegance. He leans back, exhaling a plume of smoke like some villain in an old mafia movie.
I gasp theatrically. "Oh my God, is that a Cuban cigar? Can I try it? Just once. For the experience."
Both of them look at me like I've grown another head. His father chuckles dryly, clearly amused despite himself, and slides the cigar and lighter across the table.
"Knock yourself out," he mutters.
Grinning, I pick up the cigar and pretend to inspect it like a sommelier with fine wine. "Wow, fancy. This must be what privilege tastes like."
Then, instead of taking a puff, I flick the lighter open and light the edge of a hundred-dollar bill. The flame curls the edges of the note, the fire eating away at their bribe.
"What theâ" His mother's voice rises as I toss the smoldering bill onto the rest of the pile.
The flames lick higher, and I stand, picking up the ashes and letting them fall delicately onto the table, right in front of them.
"You think you can buy me?" I ask, my voice low and steady. "You think all this money can make me leave him? Let me tell you something... Rayan isn't just a name on my contacts list or some trophy I stumbled upon. He's my partner, my chaos, my peace. If you think you can put a price on that, then you don't know your son at all."
Their stunned silence is priceless.
"You insolent little...." his mother starts, but I cut her off with a dramatic gasp.
"Oh no, please don't call me names!" I mock, clutching my chest. "Pese diye jal kar raakh hogaye tsk tsk tsk itni aukaat hai apki?"
His father leans forward, his expression cold. "We can destroy you. You'll never work in any field. You'll be nothing."
I clasp my hands together, feigning terror. "Oh no! Guess I'll just have to settle for being a rich football captain's housewife. Sitting by the pool, drinking mocktails, and binge-watching dramas all day. Tragic, isn't it?"
His mother sputters, completely losing her cool. "You arrogant little.."
"Lady," I interrupt, my tone turning serious. "You can threaten me, insult me, and burn my dreams to the ground. But let me make one thing clear: Rayan is mine. Not yours, not the world's, not some family legacy. And nothing...not your money, your power, or your judgmental sneer... is going to change that."
I toss the lighter onto the table, grab my bag, and stride toward the door. Just before I leave, I turn back with a wicked grin.
"By the way," I say, nodding toward the charred pile of cash, "next time you want to bribe someone, at least throw in some noodles. Bribes are always better with snacks."
And with that, I walk out of the Sadaqa Mansion, my head held high and my heart racing with adrenaline.
Let them come at me again. I'll burn their money every single time.
But then my phone rings.. oh it's the Humraah clan (yeah we created a group of all of us) suddenly the worried voices of boys begin to come "y'all need to come at this address this instant... Ayan and Inaya are in problem."
Shit!
I don't remember anything said after that... I just want to rush to the location and get my friends to be safe.
I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light as I feel a cold drop on my hand. Slowly, my brain processes the sight in front of me: all the gang staring at me with wide, almost terrified eyes. My throat feels dry, and my voice croaks, "Where am I?"
Maha's voice cuts through the silence, dripping with mischief. "Tum abhi Jannat mein ho aur hum sab tumhari hoorain."
(You're in heaven and all of are angels)
My heart lurches. "No!" I shout, sitting up so fast my head spins. "I can't be dead! I wasn't even married yet!"
A burst of laughter erupts around me. Maha is clutching her stomach, while Ayra snickers with her usual sass. "Relax, Romeo," Ayra drawls, leaning against the wall. "You're very much alive and still unmarried."
Before I can process the relief, the boys... Ahad, Rayan, and Zaid... surround me, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. I can feel their emotions through the tight grip of their arms.
"You idiot," Ahad mutters, his voice shaky. "You scared the hell out of us!"
"You were out for two days," Rayan adds, his usual grumpiness replaced by genuine concern.
"And I had to cancel my study session for you," Zaid teases, though his voice carries a tremor of relief.
My throat tightens, and my eyes sting. "Two days?" I whisper, overwhelmed. "Wait⦠what happened? Inaya..."
Memories flood back like a tidal wave...the gunshot, the rain, Inaya screaming my name. My heart twists, and I push myself up, only to realize something is off.
"I need to find Inaya," I say, my voice hoarse as I stagger toward the door.
Rayan clears his throat behind me. "Uh, Ayan, planning to rescue her without pants?"
I freeze, looking down to see I'm wearing nothing but shorts. A collective roar of laughter erupts.
Maha doubles over. "Heroic much?"
Even Ahad, usually the composed one, chuckles as Zaid whips out his phone, snapping a picture. "This is going in the family album."
Despite the humor, the urgency in my chest doesn't fade. "Laugh all you want," I mutter, turning to them. "But Inaya's in danger."
The laughter dies down as the girls exchange glances. Ayra, her arms crossed, steps forward with a letter in hand. "We know," she says quietly.
I take the letter, my hands trembling. It's from Inaya's father, Hassan Shehryar. The words are like knives to my chest: Inaya will be engaged to her cousin this Sunday.
I stare at the paper, my vision blurring. My heart feels like it's being ripped apart. "He can't⦠she wouldn'tâ¦" I trail off, my voice cracking.
"You're lucky the bullet just grazed your neck," Ahad says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "If Inaya hadn't called us, you wouldn't even be here. I'm gonna beat him for touching my brother."
Maha, trying to lighten the mood, chimes in, "So, you better not go full Terminator mode this time, okay?"
I grip the letter tightly. "I can't let this happen. I have to get her back."
"We know," Zaid says, his voice serious for once. "But storming in like last time isn't the answer. You barely made it out alive."
Ahad nods. "We need a plan. Something smart. Something that doesn't end with you in a hospital bed."
I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "I don't care what happens to me. I just need her safe."
Ayra steps forward, her gaze sharp. "Then listen to us, Ayan. We're going to help you, but you have to trust us. If you act aggressive, you won't even make it back to us, let alone her."
"Exactly this is the mafia we're talking about not some casual family so this time our problem is hell a lot bigger than any one we've faced." Hoorain explains.
Maha grins. "And trust me, I've already got some very dramatic ideas."
Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips. This groupâtheir humor, their loyalty, their madnessâis the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
"Fine," I say, exhaling deeply. "What's the plan?"
Ayra smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, you're going to love this."
She smirks, her eyes glinting mischievously as she leans forward, gesturing for everyone to gather. "Here's the plan," she says, lowering her voice dramatically as she narrates the entire plan.
We huddle around her, the air buzzing with anticipation. Her voice drops even more, almost conspiratorial. "We need to communicate with Inaya, telling her about this entire plan without Hassan Shahriyar suspecting anything. Soâ¦"
She pauses, letting the suspense build. "We're sneaking into her house today as it's her announcement ceremony."
"What?!" I almost yell, earning a sharp shush from Ayra.
"The girls are already invited," Ayra continues, gesturing toward herself, Maha, and Hoorain. "Uncle Hassan trusts us because, let's be honest, we're the wholesome ones."
Maha snorts, not even attempting to hide her amusement. "Wholesome. Sure."
Ayra glares but ignores the interruption. "The rest of you, thoughâ¦" She points at Ahad, Rayan, Zaid, and me. "You're sneaking in Mission Impossible-style."
Ahad raises a brow. "And how exactly are we doing that?"
Ayra smirks again, holding up her phone. "Costumes."
Rayan groans, rubbing his temples. "This is why I hate group missions."
"You hate everything," Maha teases, poking his arm.
"What kind of costumes?" I ask warily, already regretting my involvement in this madness.
Maha's grin widens. "Oh, you'll see."
Before I can protest, Ahad clears his throat, pulling out a sleek black case from his bag. "I anticipated this level of chaos," he says, opening the case to reveal tiny, barely-there earpieces.
"Whoa!" Zaid whistles, picking one up. "Are we spies now?"
"Think of them as communicators," Ahad explains, ignoring the teasing. "These will let us stay connected without anyone noticing. You'll be able to hear everything the girls say inside the house, and we'll guide Ayan to Inaya's room. I'll be tracking your positions as I've already hacked their cameras and all"
Hoorain, ever innocent, looks confused. "But what if someone catches us? Won't the costumes give us away?"
Ayra waves her hand dismissively. "Not if we execute this flawlessly. Which we will. Because we're the Humraah Clan."
"The what clan?" Rayan asks, looking genuinely perplexed.
"Humraah. As in, we stick together," Maha says, puffing her chest out proudly. "It's poetic."
"It's ridiculous," Rayan mutters under his breath.
Ayra claps her hands. "Focus! We're doing this tonight. The girls will enter first, and then we'll sneak you guys in. Ayan, you're the priority. You'll be the one to deliver the message to Inaya."
I nod, my heart racing. "Absolutely"
Anything to get back my Inaya.
AUTHOR'S POV
The group stood huddled outside the grand, imposing Shahriyar Mansion. The girls were dressed casually, blending into the crowd of workers and guests milling about. The boys, however, were a spectacle.
Ahad was dressed in a sharp black butler's uniform, complete with a bowtie and white gloves. His serious expression only added to the absurdity of the situation.
Rayan wore a chef's outfit, complete with a towering white hat that looked seconds away from toppling over. His grumpy face screamed get me out of this nightmare.
Zaid, in his calm and collected manner, had somehow ended up as a worker to set decorations since the event is on a big scale.
But the main piece was Ayan, decked out in the most ridiculous costume of them all. He wore a bulky padded suit with a fake beer belly, a long white beard, and round glasses that made him look like a retired wizard.
"Why do I look like Santa who let himself go?" Ayan hissed, adjusting his beard. "This is not inconspicuous!"
Maha burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. "You're the perfect distraction, Ayan. No one's going to suspect you're here for love. They have seen your face so yeah."
"Focus," Ahad commanded, his voice steady as he adjusted his earpiece. "Ayan, you're playing an old man so try to blend in.. whatever nonsense we make up. Stay out of sight until I signal."
Rayan grumbled under his breath. "Why am I a chef? I can't even boil water."
"Because this was the only option left," Ayra shot back, rolling her eyes.
"And why am I the plumber?" Zaid asked, his tone neutral as he twirled the plastic shears.
Maha shrugged. "Because no one would be suspicious."
Hoorain tilted her head, staring at Ahad. "But you... you actually look like a butler. It suits you."
"You look gorgeous Hoor" Ahad replied smoothly.
The girls burst into laughter.
"Enough!" Ayra clapped her hands to regain focus. "We have a mission. Remember, the goal is to get Ayan inside, unnoticed. No slip-ups."
"Yeah, no slip-ups," Rayan repeated sarcastically, flicking his chef hat. "What else are we left to do?"
Ahad ignored him and spoke into the earpiece. "Alright, listen up. The main entrance has guards. The left wing is heavily monitored. The easiest way in is through the kitchen door. Maha, Hoorain, and Ayra, you're the diversion. Ayan, follow my instructions exactly."
Ayan nodded nervously. "Got it."
Maha waved at Ayan, grinning. "Don't forget to wobble when you walk, Grandpa. Really sell the part."
Ayan glared at her. "You're lucky I love Inaya more than I value my dignity."
"That's questionable at this point," Rayan muttered.
The group started moving, each trying to stay in character. As they approached the mansion, the girls walked confidently toward the main entrance while the boys lingered behind, waiting for Ahad's signal.
Through their earpieces, Ahad gave instructions. "Maha, you're up. Cause some chaos."
Maha smirked and turned to Hoorain. "Watch this."
She walked right up to the guard at the door and exclaimed loudly, "Oh no! Someone spilled oil all over the driveway! There's a lady in heels slipping everywhere!"
The guard, confused, stepped forward. "Where exactly..."
"Quick, quick!" Maha waved her arms dramatically. "She's about to fall!"
While the guards were distracted, the rest of the group slipped into the kitchen door, Ahad leading the way.
Inside, Ahad turned to Ayan. "Stick to the left. Go up the staircase and take the second right. Inaya's room is down the hall. And for the love of God, don't trip on that beard."
"I'm literally sweating in this suit," Ayan whispered, wiping his forehead.
"You'll survive," Rayan said dryly, fixing his chef hat.
Maha and Ayra rejoined them moments later, giggling. "The guards actually believed it," Maha whispered.
"Of course, they did," Ayra said smugly. "We're good at this."
Ahad rolled his eyes. "Less talking, more moving. Let's get Ayan to Inaya's room before someone notices."
As they crept through the hallways, the tension was palpable. But the sight of Ayan waddling in his costume kept the mood light.
Maha leaned over to whisper to Ayra, "Do you think Inaya will even recognize him in this?"
Ayra snorted. "If she doesn't laugh first, I'll be surprised."
Ayan shot them a glare but said nothing, his focus entirely on the mission.
Inside Mansion
The mansion is the picture of grandeur: chandeliers dripping with crystals, marble floors gleaming under the lights, and waiters darting between the guests carrying trays. Guests chatter in clusters, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of live classical music.
The girls have scattered to their assigned positions. Ayra and Maha hover near Hassan Shahriyar in the grand drawing room, engaging him in conversation. Hoorain lingers near the dessert table, innocently nibbling on a pastry while keeping an eye on the boys' progress.
In the earpiece, Ahad's calm, commanding voice echoes, "Status update. Ayan, you're clear to move downstairs. Rayan, keep an eye on the corridor and give Ayan a cover. Zaid, stop eating the pizza"
"What muft ka Khana chor to nahi Dunga?" Zaid mutters.
(I can't leave free food)
"Zaid Thora mere Liye Leke chalna" Ayan affirms.
(Zaid save some for me)
"Uhh why am I even here!?" Rayan snaps.
Ayan hobbles into the grand hall, his fake beard barely clinging to his face. He freezes when he spots Hassan Shahriyar standing near the massive staircase, looking regal and imposing in a three-piece suit. The girls exchange panicked glances, all their conversations happening over the earpiece.
"Ayan, stop looking like a deer in headlights," Ayra hisses.
"I can't breathe!" Ayan whispers back, clutching his chest.
"Ha wese to bager pant Kay ane ko tayar thay?" Maha quips. "Keep it together!"
(You were ready to come here without pants)
Hassan's sharp eyes fall on Ayan, who awkwardly adjusts his shawl and clears his throat. Ayra steps in immediately, flashing her most charming smile.
"Uncle Hassan!" she chirps, steering his attention away. "Do you know who this is?"
Hassan raises an eyebrow. "A worker?"
"No!" Maha interjects, cutting in like she's presenting a TED Talk. "This is Baba Abdul, a renowned⦠uh⦠spiritual guide!"
Ayan chokes. "What?"
Hassan folds his arms, skeptical. "A spiritual guide? At my party?"
Ayra nods solemnly. "Yes! He's here becauseâ¦" She pauses dramatically. "â¦he has a divine connection with Inaya!"
Maha gasps theatrically. "Yes! He can sense her energy! Baba Abdul can convince her to come downstairs, Uncle Hassan!"
Hassan stares at them, unimpressed. "This sounds ridiculous."
"No, no!" Ayra insists. "He's legit. Look at him!" She gestures at Ayan, who's swaying slightly because the beard glue is dripping into his mouth. "Such wisdom in his eyes. Such⦠uh⦠authenticity in his shawl."
In the earpiece, Ahad groans. "Ayra, you're terrible at this."
"You're not helping" she snaps back.
Meanwhile, Hoorain tries to discreetly wave at Ayan from the dessert table, silently encouraging him to speak. A waiter bumps into her, sending a tray of eclairs flying.
"Oh no!" she gasps, frantically trying to pick them up.
Ahad's voice comes through the earpiece. "Hoor my love do you want me to bring more eclairs?"
"I'm sorry!" Hoorain whispers.
Back in the hall, Hassan looks at Ayan, who has been silent this whole time. "Well, Baba Abdul, if you're so connected to my daughter, why don't you tell me how you'll bring her down?"
Everyone freezes. Ayra and Maha stare at Ayan, willing him to say something.
Ayan clears his throat. "Uh⦠yes. Baba Abdul⦠will summon her⦠with the power of⦠uh⦠elder wisdom?"
Maha smacks her forehead. "Smooth."
Hassan frowns. "Elder wisdom?"
"Yes!" Ayan says, gaining confidenceâor desperation. "Child baba don't share his wisdoms.. your daughter is not agreeing to come downstairs because she likes someone else.. I can feel it."
Ayra coughs loudly to cover her laugh. Hassan's expression remains stone-cold.
"Girls," he says, turning to Ayra and Maha, "he's insane but I trust you all."
Meanwhile the boys were having their own mayhem on the earpiece.
Ahad: I swear Ayan is a terrible actor.
Zaid: I bet my entire wardrobe that he'll be thrown out.
Rayan: shut up will you? Kya Kya Karna parta hai dosti k Liye.
(The thingsbwe have to do for friendship)
Hassan sighs deeply. "Fine. Let's see what this Baba Abdul can do. But if this failsâ¦"
"It won't!" Maha says brightly. "Right, Baba Abdul?"
Ayan nods weakly. "Yes. I⦠I will bring her down."
As Hassan steps aside, Ayan mutters into the earpiece, "ok I'm dying.. know that I love you all and tell Inaya that I'll be watching over her."
Zaid's voice crackles back. "If you die I'm keeping your entire shoe collection."
The silence of my room presses against my chest like a weight I can't lift. The soft glow of the bedside lamp only makes the emptiness more unbearable. I sit on the edge of my bed, fingers clenched in my lap, staring at the floor as if the answers to my chaos lie hidden in the Persian carpet's intricate patterns.
They don't.
The ache in my heart is relentless, a quiet storm that refuses to subside. Ayan's face flashes in my mind...his stupid smirk, the way his eyes light up when he's teasing me. It's torture.
Do I love that idiot this much!!
I hope he's safe!
"Why?" I whisper into the silence. "Why do I have to choose between losing my freedom or losing you?"
He shot him! Thankfully the boys were able to take him in time and the bullet just touched him... My boy is a fainting machine that's why he was unconscious for two days. I know he won't leave me, they'll come.
The thought makes me shudder. I'd rather die than marry anyone else, but what's the point of fighting when I feel so helpless? My father's words echo in my mind, filled with love but laced with the same unyielding stubbornness that has chained me here.
A sudden creak startles me. My heart leaps, and I whip my head toward the door, bracing myself for yet another relative or guest, here to "talk some sense into me." I grab the stick lying next to my bedsideâmy small defense against the world.
The door opens slowly, and a man steps inside, draped in a shawl and sporting a thick, comical beard. I blink in confusion. Who is this monkey from retired circus?
"What in the...?" I don't finish my sentence. Instead, I grip the stick and swing it toward him, all my frustration and anger fueling the motion.
But he catches it mid-air, his grip firm yet careful. "Naya!" His voice breaks through the tension. "It's⦠it's me. Ayan!"
I freeze, the stick slipping from my fingers. My eyes widen, darting to his ridiculous disguise. "Ayan?"
"Baap beti dono maarne ke peeche pade ho," he mutters, exasperated.
(Both father and daughter are after killing me)
A laugh bursts out of me...sharp, incredulous, and tinged with tears. I press a hand to my mouth as I double over, the absurdity of it all breaking through my walls. Ayan just stands there, grinning like an idiot, clearly relieved to see me laugh.
"What⦠what are you guys up to?" I manage between giggles, wiping at my eyes.
Ayan shrugs, pulling off the beard and letting the shawl fall to the floor. "Long story short, we're trying to rescue you. The whole gang is in on it."
I raise an eyebrow. "The entire gang here in this mafia mansion? You're serious?"
"As serious as Rayan." He steps closer, his voice softening. "Naya, I missed you please let me hold you."
His words tug at my heart, and when he opens his arms, I don't hesitate. I step into his embrace, burying my face against his chest. He holds me tightly, his warmth chasing away the cold emptiness I've felt for days.
"Have you eaten?" he murmurs against my hair.
I shake my head, my fingers clutching his shirt.
"Of course not," he sighs, pulling back just enough to cup my face. "You're stubborn, you know that?â
He pulls out a small packet from his pocket...snacks and chocolates of course. He always knows. Sitting me down on the bed, he tears open the packet and offers me a bite. I hesitate, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for argument.
As I chew, his earpiece crackles to life. "Ayan? Did you find her? Was she afraid to look handsome you in that hideous outfit?" Ayra's voice is sharp.
"She hit me with a stick," Ayan deadpans.
"Fair," Zaid's voice adds. "You deserve it."
"Nayu! It's me, Maha!" Maha's excitement is palpable even through the static. "I told you we'll do it."
Hoorain chimes in, "Is she okay? Did she eat?"
Ayra interrupts, "Can we not overwhelm her? Some of us have tact."
"Inayu I was the one to send you chocolates." Ahad's calm sarcasm makes me smile.
"Oh most definitely world's best brother thankyouuuu" I chuckle, "but I wish I was a part of this adventure."
"You are a part of us" the entire group simultaneously utter.
I shake my head, laughing softly as Ayan holds the earpiece closer to me. "Hi, everyone," I say, my voice soft but steady. "Thank you⦠for everything."
There's a collective cheer from the other side.
Ayan leans closer, his voice low. "Don't worry, Naya. I won't let anything happen to you. Not now, not ever. Just agree to this engagement."
I blink at Ayan, still clutching the edge of the bed. "You want me to what?"
Ayan clears his throat, trying to look serious, though the ridiculous remnants of his disguise..his shawl half on his shoulder and a patchy fake beard stuck to his collarâmake it impossible to take him seriously. "You're going to agree to the engagement."
My jaw drops. "Are you out of your mind? Agree? Ayan did you look at the boy my father chose? When he smiles it's like golden headlights are on display."
"Good thing yellow is your favorite color?" Ayan says, scratching the back of his neck. "Chee okay I was just trying to light up the mood but play along with it and then"
"And then what?â" I demand, rising to my feet. "Walk down the aisle like a sacrificial goat while you come up with another brilliant idea?"
"Naya, relax," Ayan pleads, raising his hands in surrender. "Your dad isn't Thakur from DDLJ, okay? He's not going to stand at the train station, clapping while you run into my arms. He'll kill me."
That earns him a laughâan incredulous, disbelieving laugh. "So this is your plan? To make me a willing participant in my own doom?"
The earpiece crackles, and Maha's voice bursts through. "Poor Ayan"
"Inaya just enjoy the new dresses, trust us we'll do something." Maha says enthusiastically.
Zaid's calm voice cuts through. "It's not the worst idea Inaya. You pretend to cooperate, and weâll take care of the rest."
"Oh, great. I'm supposed to trust this band of lunatics to save me," I mutter, throwing my hands up.
Ayan frowns. "Hey, we're not lunatics. We're⦠resourceful."
"Yeah," Rayan's grumpy voice interjects. "Resourceful enough to get caught and blow the whole thing."
"You're not helping, Rayan," Ayra snaps.
"Only here for Maha" Rayan mutters. "I don't even like weddings."
"Because we needed muscle," Ayan says with a grin. "And you're the closest thing we've got to a bodyguard."
"Bodyguard?" Rayan repeats, clearly unimpressed. "Ahad he's speaking to you"
"Whatever" Zaid chimes in, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Can we focus, please?" Ahad's voice interrupts, calm yet commanding. "Naya, trust us. This plan will work. You just need to go along with it."
I cross my arms, glaring at Ayan. "And what if it doesn't work? What if I end up actually married to some random guy?"
Ayan steps closer, his expression softening. "Naya, listen. I know this sounds crazy, but I promise, we've got this. You just have to trust me. Please?"
I stare at him, my heart pounding. His eyes are filled with determination, and despite the chaos swirling around us, I feel a flicker of hope.
"Fine," I say, sighing heavily. "But if this backfires, I'm coming after you first."
"Noted," Ayan replies, grinning.
"Wait!" Maha's voice pipes up again. "Before you agree, can we talk about how Ayan looks like an undercover uncle in that disguise?!"
Laughter explodes from the earpiece, and I can't help but join in as Ayan groans.
"Focus, people!" Ayra scolds, though her voice is laced with amusement.
Ayan shakes his head, holding out his hand to me. "Ready to become my bride of the century, Naya?"
I take his hand, smirking. "Let's see if you can pull this off, Mr. Shawl Man."
As the plan sets into motion, I realize one thing: with this group, life is never boring.
I lean against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, the faint hum of the party downstairs.
I watch as Ayra nears Inaya's room. Her strides are purposeful, her grey eyes focused. The flickering light from a chandelier reflects off her lavender dress, and for a second, I forget why we're here.
She doesn't see me until it's too late. She collides straight into my chest, the impact making her gasp. "What the..." she starts, stepping back quickly, but her hair gets caught on the button of my shirt.
Ayra freezes, then lets out a groan. "Of course. Because why wouldn't the universe find new ways to torture me?"
I chuckle, the sound low and amused. "Always so dramatic, Ira."
She glares up at me, but her cheeks turn a faint pink. "Don't laugh. Help me get unstuck!"
I raise an eyebrow, amused. "You could say please."
"Zaid," she warns, her voice sharp, though the way her lips twitch betrays her.
"Alright, alright," I say, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Let me do it."
She huffs but stays still, and I gently reach for her hair, untangling the soft strands from my shirt button. My fingers brush against her temple, and I catch the faintest scent of vanilla. It's intoxicating in a way that makes me want to linger, but I force myself to focus.
Her eyes, those piercing grey orbs, stare up at me as if daring me to say something. My fingers work carefully, and I let myself take in every detailâthe curve of her lashes, the faint worry line on her forehead.
"There," I murmur as her hair finally slips free.
She steps back quickly, smoothing her hair. "Thanks," she mutters, avoiding my gaze. Then, after a pause, she looks up. "Nothing's⦠awkward between us, right?"
Her question catches me off guard, but I shake my head. "No, Ayra. It's not awkward." I pause, my chest tightening. "And I meant what I said before. I'll wait for you as long as it takes. Until you're clear about your feelings. I love you. And it's not your problemâloving me back or not."
I could beg her to love me back. Even if she ends... Gosh it hurts to even think that... Ends up not loving me, I'll accept it.
Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, she just stares at me, her expression unreadable. "Zaid, Iâ¦"
"It's okay," I cut her off gently. "You don't have to say anything. I just⦠I just wanted you to know that nothing's changed for me. I'll keep loving until the last breath in my body"
She looks away, biting her lip. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not," I admit, stepping closer. "But it's worth it. You're worth it."
Her gaze snaps back to mine, her cheeks flushing again. "You're too patient for your own good."
"Maybe," I say, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Or maybe I just know what I want."
There's a long silence between us, but it's not uncomfortable. She looks at me as if trying to decipher something, and then, to my surprise, she lets out a soft laugh.
"What's so funny?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"You," she says, shaking her head. "You look good in this plumber attire."
"Oh I look good in everything" I say with mock seriousness, earning a playful shove from her.
I freeze mid-smirk as Ayra shoves me playfully. Something feels... off. There's an odd, almost imperceptible hum in my ear.
And then it hits me.
The earpiece.
"Oh no," I whisper, my blood turning cold.
Ayra frowns. "What's wrong?"
Before I can answer, a cacophony of voices bursts into my ear.
"ZAID! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" Maha screams, her voice piercing.
"Wait, did he just say he loves her?!" Rayan, grumpy as ever, sounds thoroughly incredulous.
"Oh my God, this is gold!" Ayan's laughter is nearly maniacal. "I can't believe we got a confession when we're on a heist."
"Zaid, are you for real?" Ahad's calm voice cuts through, but there's a teasing edge to it.
Ayra stares at me, wide-eyed. "Zaid⦠was the earpiece on this whole time?"
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "I... I think it was."
"Oh, it definitely was," Rayan confirms, his tone dripping with amusement. "And let me tell you we heard everything."
"You guys are so dead when I see you," I groan, glaring at nothing in particular.
Ayra looks half-mortified, half-amused. "This is your fault," she mutters, crossing her arms.
"My fault?!" I hiss, turning to her. "You"re the one who brought up the stupid plumber outfit!"
"And you're the one who confessed!" she fires back, her cheeks a furious shade of red.
"Ohhh, they're fighting like a married couple now," Ayan quips.
"Can we please focus?" Ahad's voice is firm, though thereâs unmistakable amusement beneath it. "Inaya and Ayan are coming down. Everyone, eyes on them."
Ayra and I exchange a look, silently agreeing to drop our argumentâfor now. We step closer to the staircase just as Inaya appears, descending with Ayan right behind her.
He's still in his ridiculous Baba disguise, complete with the shawl, the beard, and a stoop that makes him look twice his actual age.
I can barely hold back a laugh. "He looks like his grandfather."
Ayra snorts beside me. "Just imagine how many products he'll have to use for his skin now."
The murmurs from the gathered crowd grow louder as they notice Inaya and her "escort." Her father stands at the base of the stairs, his expression shifting from confusion to outright disbelief.
"What⦠is this?" Hassan Shahriyar finally manages, his gaze darting between Inaya and âBaba.â
Ayan clears his throat, stepping forward with exaggerated grace. "Told you son! Baba Abdul can get anyone do anything."
I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Ayra, beside me, isn't as successful and lets out a muffled snort.
Hassan's eyes narrow. "Oh thankyou baba jee I truly apologize for misunderstanding you."
I choke on air. He's buying this?!
On the earpiece, chaos reigns.
"NO WAY," Maha screeches.
"Ayan should win an Oscar," Rayan mutters.
Ahad, ever calm, chuckles. "This is why we don't let him improvise."
Hoorain, meanwhile, looks like she's one step away from bursting into laughter.
AUTHOR'S POV
Ayan stands tall, or rather stooped, in his Baba Abdul disguise, stroking his fake beard with exaggerated grace. Hassan Shahriyar's approving grin only fuels his performance.
"Baba jee, I'd like to pay you respect and hear more of your wonders," Shahriyar says, clasping his hands together.
This should've been the moment Ayan backed off. It was a clear red signal. A bright neon sign screaming STOP.
But Ayan? He doesn't know what stop means.
From the earpiece, Ahad's voice cuts in, deadpan "Ayan, no. Zyada over na ho."
Ayan's eyes glint with mischief. Ignoring the warnings, he begins. "Ah, my wonders are many, my son." He starts pacing the room dramatically, one hand clasped behind his back, the other gesturing wildly. "I have counseled the broken-hearted, united the lost, and once... I taught a squirrel how to meditate."
"Is he serious?" Zaid's calm voice echoes through the earpiece, though there's a hint of disbelief.
"Oh, he's beyond serious," Rayan mutters. "He's possessed."
Ayan pauses, tilting his head to the side as if listening to an invisible audience. Then, with a sudden flourish, he starts shaking his head rhythmically and humming.
"What is he doing?" Hoorain whispers, half-horrified, half-amused.
"He's about to sing," Maha says in awe. "Oh my God, he's actually going to sing."
Sure enough, Ayan throws his arms wide and belts out, "may God bless this home! The girl! And the headlight about to marry her!" His voice cracks mid-note, but he powers through, spinning in place.
Shahriyar watches, bewildered yet intrigued, until...
THWAP!
Ayan freezes. Everyone freezes.
His fake beard, the one integral to his disguise, has flown off mid-spin and landed squarely on Hassan Shahriyar's face.
The silence is deafening.
And then Shahriyar pulls the beard off, his expression shifting from confusion to pure rage. "YOU!"
Ayan stumbles backward, his hands raised. "Uh, Baba Abdul is... temporarily unavailable."
"GUARDS!" Shahriyar bellows.
The earpiece erupts into chaos.
"Run, Ayan!" Maha shrieks.
"Grab the others and get out!" Ahad orders.
"Tell my story!" Ayan cries dramatically as he bolts toward the exit.
The guards charge in, but Ayan ducks and weaves like his life depends on itâwhich, frankly, it does.
Meanwhile, back in the garden, the rest of the group scrambles.
"Where's the escape plan?!" Hoorain yells, clutching Maha's arm.
"Smoke bombs!" Maha shouts, pulling a small pouch from her bag.
"What? Why do you even have smoke bombs?" Rayan demands.
"In case of emergencies like this!" Maha retorts, tossing one at the ground.
A thick cloud of smoke erupts, causing confusion among the guards.
Zaid grabs Ayra's hand, pulling her along. "Let's go before they realize weâre still here."
"I knew this was a bad idea," Ayra mutters, though sheâs running as fast as she can.
Ahad, ever the big brother, steers the group toward the gate. "Stick together. Don't stop. If anyone falls behind, I'll.."
Ayan crashes into him, wheezing. "I lost my shawl! I can't go back!"
"Forget the shawl!" Ahad snaps, shoving him forward. "Run, you idiot!"
Inaya stands by the mansion's window, watching the chaos unfold below. A guard stumbles blindly through the smoke, coughing, while another trips over Ayan's discarded shawl. The entire scene is like a poorly executed heist gone wrong.
And yet, she can't stop laughing.
Her laughter grows louder as she hears Ayan's distant voice shouting, "I love you Inaya!"
"Bhai tu Bach Le phir ye Pyar karlena" Maha smacks his head.
By the time the smoke clears and the guards regroup, the gang is long gone, disappearing into the night like a band of bumbling thieves.
Hassan storms back into the house, muttering curses under his breath. Inaya wipes tears from her eyes, still chuckling.
"Fine," she says to herself, shaking her head. "I'll agree to the engagement. But only because I've realized I was loving a fool person."
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
HEY GUYS I HOPE Y'ALL ARE DOING FINE AND WELL.
HERE'S THIS LONG CHAPTER ð
I LOVED WRITING THIS SEQUENCE AS IT MADE ME REALIZE THAT UNDER ANY PROBLEM, YOUR TRUE FRIENDS WILL SACRIFICE ANYTHING FOR YOU.
A FRIEND IN NEED IS A TRUE FRIEND INDEED.
THIS CHAPTER IS UNEDITED SO IGNORE THE MISTAKES OR TYPOS.
SHARE YOUR HONEST REVIEWS ABOUT TODAY'S CHAPTER.
NEXT CHAPTER MAYBE DELAYED DUE TO MY OVERFLOWING CUP OF ACTIVITIES.
DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT.
STAY SAFE AND HEALTHY.