The bouquet of orchids feels delicate in my hands, their scent subtle but calming. As I walk toward the gates of the family park, my heart pounds with an odd mix of anticipation and nerves (I'm meeting her properly after our last adventure) (this can be counted as our first actual date). I spot Maha immediately. She's standing near the entrance, her casual yet chic outfit perfectly complementing her dusky skin. Her hair is tied in a loose bun, with wisps escaping to frame her face, and her green eyes shimmer with excitement.
Before I can process it, she gasps, her hands flying to her mouth as she notices me.
"Rhino!" she exclaims, and then she's running toward me, her laughter trailing behind her like music.
And then she hugs me.
It's quick and spontaneous, but it feels like home. My arms rise to return the gesture, and for a brief moment, the world around us quiets. Her energy wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I find myself relaxing in a way I rarely do (only In front of her)
When she pulls back, her grin is contagious. "You're late," she says, poking my arm.
"Sorry for being two minutes late," I reply, holding out the bouquet. "Here. Orchids."
Her face lights up as she takes the flowers, her fingers grazing mine for a second. "You remembered! You're not as grumpy as you pretend to be, huh?"
I roll my eyes trying to hide the smile. "I'm still grumpy. You're just lucky."
She giggles and loops her arm through mine, tugging me toward the park. "Come on, I have so much to show you!"
As we stroll along the gravel path, I notice the orchid pendant hanging around her neckâthe same one I gave her months ago. It's small, delicate, and yet somehow suits her larger-than-life personality.
"You're wearing the pendant," I say quietly, surprised but oddly pleased.
"Of course I am," she says, glancing at me with a soft smile. "I love it. It's like a part of me."
I look away, pretending to focus on the scenery, but my lips twitch upward.
The park is lively today. Kids dart between swings and slides, their laughter mingling with the chirping of birds. The sun filters through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the grass. It's a picture-perfect day, the kind that feels stolen from a movie scene.
Maha stops abruptly, her hand on my arm. "Wait till you see this."
She drags me toward a bench in the middle of a small clearing. It's decorated with a soft, pastel-colored cover, and baskets filled with food are neatly arranged beside it.
"Ta daaa" she beams while showing the bench.
"What... is this?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"It's our park date!" she declares proudly. "I had to fight tooth and nail to protect this bench. Someone almost sat here before you came, and I was ready to wrestle them for it."
I laugh despite myself. "You would've wrestled someone for a bench?"
"Yes! This isn't just a bench, Rayan. This is our bench."
Maha's declaration about "our bench" still has me smiling as I sit down, trying to process the sheer energy this girl radiates. The pastel cover feels soft against my hand, and the baskets of food add an almost picturesque charm to the setup. She plops down beside me, grabbing a sandwich from one of the baskets and handing it to me.
"Here eat," she orders, her tone playful but firm.
I take it, watching her as she unwraps her own sandwich and takes a big bite. Her cheeks puff out slightly as she chews, and I can't help but find it... adorable. She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" she asks, her voice muffled by her food.
"No," I say, shaking my head. You have my soul with you.
"Just thinking about how much effort you put into this."
She beams at me, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Of course! You deserve the best rhino. I'm a great girl to have."
I stare at her like she's the only person providing breaths to me. It's moments like these that remind me why I fell for her in the first place. "Undoubtedly."
Once we finish eating, she jumps to her feet, grabbing my hand. "Come on, we're not just sitting here all day. Let's explore!"
"Explore?" I ask, reluctantly letting her pull me up.
"Yes, Rayan. Explore. You know, walk around, enjoy the swings, slides, maybe even feed some ducks if we find any. Don't tell me you're scared of fun."
"Maha the only one I'm scared of is you" she laughs loudly.
She leads me to the swing set first, her steps light and her laughter echoing as she skips ahead. She sits on one of the swings and motions for me to do the same.
"I'm not sitting on a swing," I tell her.
"Rayan," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Sit. On. The. Swing."
Reluctantly, I lower myself onto the swing next to her, feeling ridiculous. She starts swinging immediately, her legs pumping as she rises higher and higher, her hair escaping from its bun and flying in the breeze.
"See? Isn't this fun?" she calls out, grinning down at me as I stay awkwardly still.
"Absolutely Maha" I say flatly, but watching her so carefree and happy makes my heart ache in the best way.
When she finally slows down, she hops off and grabs my arm. "Okay, next stop: the slides!"
"The slides?"
"Yes, the slides," she says, already dragging me toward the small play area where a group of kids is arguing over whose turn it is.
Maha wastes no time jumping into the fray. "Alright, listen up, kiddos! API Maha is here to restore order."
"Api Maha?" I repeat, amused.
She ignores me, crouching down to negotiate with the kids. "If you let me and my grumpy friend go first, I'll make sure everyone gets equal turns. Deal?"
The kids eye her suspiciously, and one of themâa boy no older than sixâcrosses his arms. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"
Maha gasps, placing a hand on her heart like he's just deeply offended her. "Oh, wow. A betrayal at such a young age. Where's the trust, little man?"
Another girl, with pigtails and suspicious eyes, narrows her gaze. "My mama says grown-ups lie."
I bite back a laugh, crossing my arms as I watch this disaster unfold. "Maha, you're arguing with kids?"
"They started it!" She huffs, then turns back to the crowd of toddlers. "Alright, fine! Let's settle this like true warriors." She straightens, pointing dramatically at the slide. "A race! Whoever reaches the slide first gets the first turn, deal?"
The kids immediately break into excited chatter.
"A race!" Batman-shirt kid yells. "I'm the fastest!"
"No way, I am!" another kid protests.
Maha grins. "Only one way to find out."
And just like that, they're off..tiny feet thundering across the playground, giggles filling the air. Maha also takes off at full speed, shrieking like a lunatic as she runs alongside them.
I can't help it.. I laugh. Like, actually laugh. The kind of laugh that bubbles up before I can stop it, shaking my head as I watch her sprinting with a bunch of five-year-olds, arms flailing.
She reaches the slide at the same time as the Batman kid, throwing her hands up in victory. "IT'S A TIE!"
The kids groan, but theyâre laughing too. "Okay, okay, you all win," she announces. "We'll take turns together."
As she turns toward me, flushed and grinning, something warm stirs in my chest.
I shake my head, still smiling. "Maha, I swear, you're something else."
She tilts her head. "Something amazing?"
I roll my eyes but donât answer. Instead, I step forward, reaching out to gently fix a loose strand of hair that's fallen into her face. It's quickâbarely a secondâbut she freezes, blinking up at me, her grin faltering just a little. I love her so much, so much that I would travel the ends of the world just to be with her.
"Chalo, Api Maha," I murmur, stepping back before she can react. "The slide awaits."
I barely manage to grab her bag before she starts climbing the slide ladder, her determination making the kids gape.
"Maha! You'll fall careful crazy woman!" I scream nearly tripping.
"Your turn!" she calls down to me.
"I'm not climbing that," I say, shaking my head.
"Rayan!" she whines, her voice full of mock exasperation. "Do it for the kids!"
The kids are now looking at me expectantly, and I sigh, giving in. As I climb, Maha laughs triumphantly, and by the time we both slide down together, she's beaming like she just won a gold medal.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she teases, brushing imaginary dirt off my shoulder.
"Admit it, you had fun," she teases, crossing her arms and leaning slightly toward me.
"I admit nothing," I say, but there's a small smile tugging at my lips.
Before she can push further, a small tug on my shirt grabs my attention. I glance down to see a little girl, maybe five or six, looking up at me with wide, curious eyes. Her hair is in two uneven ponytails, and she's clutching a small stuffed bunny to her chest.
"Hi," she says shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Hey" I reply, crouching slightly to her level. "What's your name?"
"Mehrunisa" she says, rocking back and forth on her heels.
"Nice to meet you Mehrunisa" I say gently.
She stares at me for a moment, then suddenly blurts out, "You're handsome."
Behind me, I hear Maha burst into laughter, and I glance back at her, raising an eyebrow. She's holding her stomach, clearly enjoying this a little too much.
"Thank you" I say, my voice soft. "That's very sweet of you to say." My cheeks must've been red by now.
She fidgets, her little fingers clutching the bunny tighter. "Are you going to be my boyfriend?"
Maha practically falls off the bench at that, her laughter ringing out like bells. I glance at her, rolling my eyes, but there's no stopping her now.
"Well," I say carefully, turning back to the girl. "I think I might be a bit old for that, don't you think?"
Mehrunisa considers this seriously, her brows furrowing. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-four" I say, and she gasps as if I've just revealed I'm a hundred years old.
"That's really old," she says, her expression comically serious.
"Yes and you know he's really grumpy for someone beautiful like you" Maha chants. I'm not that grumpy am I?
She beams at that, looking genuinely pleased. "Can I still hug you?" she asks, her voice small and hopeful.
I glance at Maha, who's watching with a mischievous grin but nods in encouragement. "Sure," I say, crouching a bit lower. "If it's okay with you. But next time never ask a stranger to hug you right?"
She steps forward and wraps her tiny arms around my neck, and I gently pat her head, careful not to mess up her ponytails. Her hair smells faintly of strawberry shampoo, and for a moment, I feel an odd warmth in my chest.
"You're nice," she says when she pulls back, clutching her bunny again.
"Thanks" I reply.
She gives me a big smile before running off to join the other kids. I straighten up and turn to Maha, who's grinning from ear to ear.
"What?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
"You're a natural," she says, her voice full of affection. "You'd make a great dad someday."
I feel my cheeks heat at her words, and I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. I chuckle at the image of small girl crazy like Maha... Both of them the sunshines of my life, "I guess... I'm good with kids"
Maha steps closer, tilting her head as she looks up at me. "You're good with everyone, Rayan. Even if you don't realize it."
"I'm not as good with people as you are," I admit, my voice quieter. "But I'm trying. For you."
Her smile softens, and she reaches out to touch my arm. "You don't have to try so hard, Rayan. Just being here with me is enough."
As we walk side by side along the winding park paths, the light breeze carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. I can't help but wonder how thankful I am to have her. Maha is talking about everything and nothing at once, her words tumbling out in a lively, endless stream. Her excitement about life is contagious, and I can't help but listen like she's the only sound that's worth hearing in this world.
"And then," she says, gesturing animatedly, "your parents convinced me to take money but I...."
She abruptly stops, mid-sentence. I glance down at her, frowning as she looks away, biting her lip nervously.
"What?" I ask, my voice soft but firm. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," she says quickly, waving her hand as if to dismiss it.
"Maha," I press, turning to face her fully now. "Don't do that. What did you mean when you said you met my parents?"
She hesitates, and I can see the internal struggle on her face. She's never been good at hiding things. Finally, she sighs and meets my gaze, her green eyes hesitant but honest.
"They⦠called me," she admits quietly. "A few days ago."
I feel my chest tighten. "What did they want?"
Maha looks down, twisting her fingers nervously. "They told me to take money and leave you." Her voice is soft, but each word feels like a punch to my gut. "They said if I didn't, they'd make sure my career was ruined."
The vulnerability in her tone, the sheer weight of what she's sayingâit breaks something in me. She takes a step closer, cupping my face gently she knows what she's doing. "My career doesn't matter more than you grumpy rhino."
She laughs lightly, though it's tinged with bitterness. "Besides Rayan I would prefer being a pampered wife of a football champion. I love you Rayan... I mean it when I say I won't choose anything over you."
I wish I can cry...
For a moment, I can't speak. The thought of her standing up to my parents, of her enduring that for me, makes my throat tighten. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I can.
"I don't deserve you, Maha," I whisper into her hair, my voice cracking. "You're full of life, and I'm just⦠grumpy and difficult. Why would you even choose me?"
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands resting on my chest. "You're right, you are grumpy," she teases, her tone light but her eyes soft. "But you're also kind, Rayan. You care about people, even if you don't always show it. And I didn't choose you despite your flawsâI chose you because of them. Because you're real. Because you're mine."
I shake my head, feeling the weight of her words. "Maybe I should give up football," I say, the thought spilling out before I can stop it. "It's selfish of me to keep pursuing it. I should just join my dad's company instead. That way he won't bother you anymore or maybe they can accept you as well..."
"Chup ho jao Rayan" Maha gasps dramatically, her hands flying to her cheeks. "Don't you dare ruin my dreams of being the wife of a rich and famous footballer! Imagine the headlines, Rayan! I even imagined the edits your fans would make when I attend your matches like virushka."
I can't help but laugh at her over-the-top expression, though my heart aches with how much she's trying to lighten the mood.
"You're telling me to stay on the path I don't know if I'll ever acheive. That might take forever for me to provide for you" I tease, my voice softer now.
"I'm not going anywhere Rayan. I'm here with you so you can take however long you want," she says, wagging a finger at me. "You're going to work hard, become the best footballer in the world, and then buy me a mansion with a slide instead of stairs. And maybe a big swimming pool. I've always wanted a pool."
"How long will you stay by my side, Maha? You'll get tired."
"You never understood my love. I'll walk by your side until you say, 'I've lost.'"
I laugh again, pulling her back into my arms. "You're something else."
"And you're mine," she quips, smiling against my shoulder.
I press a kiss to her hair, breathing her in. "I might be terrible at expressing myself, Maha," I say quietly, my voice steady now, "but know this...there is no one I'll ever choose over you. Not now, not ever."
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her expression soft but fierce. "And I'll keep choosing you, Rayan. Every single day."
In that moment, with the park bustling around us, birds chirping overhead, and the scent of orchids in the air, I know one thing with absolute certainty..Maha is my home.
I'll have to work hard for this girl.
Bus iske Liye karna hai.
I just have to do it for her⦠I have to change myself for her.
I walk through Zaid's house, my feet dragging slightly, as I try to push down the confusing feelings swirling inside me. Just a few weeks ago, I would never have imagined myself hereâZaid and I, enemies turned into a relationship where he loves me? It's a strange word to think about, let alone say.
I passed Hoorain and Ahad earlier; they were busy with their own things, probably caught up in the excitement of announcing their engagement to his parents. But me? I'm stuck in this odd place where everything feels unfamiliar, and yet, this house is beginning to feel like home. Zaid's parents have welcomed me with open arms, and his sisters are warm and kind. It's the strangest feeling, being treated like family by the ones I used to view as strangers.
As I walk down the hall toward his room, my thoughts wander back to the moment we became engaged. Zaid's confession, his patience, his quiet love...it's all so... overwhelming. And yet, I still don't know what I feel. I can't seem to figure it out.
When I reach his room, I hesitate for a moment before knocking on the door. There's no reply, so I gently push it open. The room is quiet, and for a moment, I wonder if he's not even here. But then I hear it...the soft sound of slow breathing, like the rhythm of sleep.
I move closer to the bed, and there he is, still lying there, his glasses nowhere to be seen. He looks... different. His hair is tousled, and his face seems so peaceful, almost childlike in the way he sleeps. His dimples, those deep little indentations, are still visible, even in slumber. I can't help but smile softly at the sight. It's so... normal.
But then, I notice something. Why is he appearing red? I reach out to touch it, my hand hovering above his skin before gently making contact. My heart skips a beat. He's sick.
"Zaid?" I whisper, my voice low, unsure. I touch his forehead again, my worry growing. His temperature is so high, and yet he's still asleep, his breathing steady but shallow.
Without warning, he shifts in his sleep, and before I know it, he pulls me toward him, his strong arms wrapping around my waist as he cuddles into me. His face buries in my neck, his warm breath sending a shiver through me.
"Zaid...?" I murmur again, but this time, I don't try to pull away. I'm frozen, unsure of how to react. It feels... odd, this intimacy.
Again he's in his fifty shades of Zaid mode?
"Mm... Ayra?" His voice is rough and sleepy, and I can't help but smile despite my concern. He shifts slightly, still holding onto me, as though he's trying to pull me into the dream he's in.
"Zaid, you're sick," I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. He blinks up at me, his eyes still cloudy with sleep, and he lets out a low, groggy chuckle.
"I thought you were a dream," he mumbles, his arms tightening around me. I feel my chest tighten at his words, unsure whether it's the sleepiness in his voice or the tenderness that makes my heart race.
"Clearly, you've lost your mind," I tease softly, but the words fall short as I notice how flushed his cheeks are. His temperature is alarming. "Zaid... You're burning up."
"Don't... don't go," he mutters, his voice thick with sleep. "Stay. Please."
I laugh lightly, although it's mixed with a touch of worry. "I'm not going anywhere, but you really need to rest. You're really sick."
He's barely conscious, but he pulls me closer, burying his face into my side. I feel him shiver slightly, and I can't help but soften at the sight of him. The usual smug, teasing Zaid is nowhere to be found. "No worries sweetheart being with you heals me"
He blinks a few times, his brows furrowing. "Ayra? You're real?"
I roll my eyes, though my heart feels like it's lodged in my throat. "No I've died and I'm here to pay a last visit as a ghost."
He tries to sit up, but the moment he does, he sways, his hand instinctively reaching out. I catch him just in time, my arms steadying his shoulders. "Hey, hey, easy," I say, my voice softer than I expect it to be. "Lie back down, Zaid. You're not going anywhere."
He groans, pressing a hand to his forehead. "My head feels like it's about to explode," he mutters, leaning back onto the pillow.
I frown, my worry growing by the second. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were this sick? You can't just push through everything like it's no big deal! Do you even know how worried I was to know you didn't come to university today."
"Didn't know you'd care this much," he says, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips despite the fever.
"Shut up idiot" I shoot back, though my voice lacks its usual sharpness. "You're burning up, Zaid. This isn't normal."
His smirk fades as he closes his eyes again, his breathing shallow. I can feel the panic bubbling inside me. I've never seen him like this...so vulnerable, so unguarded. It's unsettling. Well the part where he confessed doesn't count.
Without another word his mother arrives within minutes, her face pale with worry as she steps into the room. "Zaid how are you feeling now? I told you not to take a shower at night!" She scolds gently, sitting beside him.
"I'm fine, Mom," he says weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You're not fine, you're a reckless idiot" I interject, my tone sharper than I intended. "He's burning up Mama. What should we do?"
His mother sighs, brushing his hair back gently. "We need to bring his fever down. Ayra, there's a bowl of cold water in the kitchen. Please ask the maid to bring that and some clean cloths."
I nod quickly and rush to the kitchen, returning with the bowl and cloths. His mother shows me how to soak the cloths and place them gently on his forehead. "Keep doing this," she says. "It'll help break the fever. I'll go get his medicine."
As she leaves the room, I sit beside Zaid, carefully dabbing his forehead with the cool cloth. His eyes remain closed, his breathing labored, and I feel an unfamiliar tightness in my chest.
"Why do have to be so careless?" I whisper, trying to distract myself from the tears pricking my eyes. "You can't even handle being sick without making it a whole drama."
His lips twitch into a weak smile. "Are you worried about me Mrs Mirza?" He murmurs, his voice hoarse. "I guess I should get sick more often."
"Zaid," I scold, my voice trembling. "This isn't funny. You're scaring me."
He cracks one eye open, his gaze meeting mine. "Ayra," he says softly, "don't cry. It's just a fever."
I sniffle, glaring at him. "I'm not crying."
"Ha ye to Ankhon se nimbu paani beh Raha hai"
(Yes this is lemon juice in your eyes)
I chuckle in response, he closes his eyes again. I continue dabbing his forehead, my movements gentle but hurried, trying to suppress the overwhelming worry threatening to consume me.
After a few minutes, he stirs again, his voice barely audible. "Ayra... ow, my heart," he mutters dramatically.
I freeze, my panic surging. "What? What is it?"
He peeks one eye open and grins weakly. "Gotcha."
"ZAID!" I yell, smacking his arm lightly. "Do you have a death wish? I swear...."
He cuts me off with a raspy laugh, though it quickly turns into a cough. I immediately lean closer, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "Stop joking around," I say, my voice shaking. "You're really sick, Zaid. Please... just rest."
He nods, my fingers threading gently through his tousled hair, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. My heart clenches involuntarily, and I hate it. I hate how much seeing him like this affects me.
What am I even feeling? This can't be love⦠right? No, it's not. I'm not meant for love, not the kind that Zaid so effortlessly offers. It's just a concern... anyone would feel this way seeing him so weak and helpless.
My gaze shifts to the cupboard across the room, and a memory flashes before my eyes....the last time I was here, I found his broken guitar tucked away inside. The way he scolded me for touching it still lingers in my mind. I shake my head, a soft sigh escaping my lips.
Before I can dwell on it any longer, Zaid's weak yet steady hand reaches out, wrapping around mine. His touch is warm, grounding me in the moment. "What?" I ask softly, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he slowly sits up, swaying slightly.
"Zaid, what are you doing?" I protest, my hand tightening around his arm. "Lie back down, you're too weak."
He ignores me, standing up with an effort, his lips curving into that familiar lopsided grin. "Come with me," he says, tugging me towards the cupboard.
"Zaid you need to rest," I say firmly, but he shakes his head, determination in his feverish eyes.
"Trust me," he murmurs, his voice softer now. "Open it."
I hesitate, biting my lip. "No. You got so mad last time."
He chuckles weakly, dimples appearing even in his tired state. "I promise, no scolding this time. Just... open it ira."
With a skeptical glance, I open the cupboard, and there it is...the same broken guitar, strings snapped, the wood slightly chipped. My fingers brush over it hesitantly, but before I can say anything, Zaid's voice breaks the silence.
"That's a broken part of my past, Ayra," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on me instead of the guitar. "But now, you're the only one I want."
If he continues talking... I might cry. C'mon I'm not that weak. I turn to him, blinking rapidly. "Zaid... I don't want to look weak," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath.
His lips curve into a small, knowing smile. "No worries," he says, his dimples deepening. "You can hug me if you want."
I blink at him, startled. "Excuse me?"
"Come on," he teases, his voice lighter despite the fever weighing him down. "I know you want to."
"I..." Before I can finish, he pulls me into his arms, his grip gentle yet firm. My face is pressed against his chest, and I can hear the faint, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Despite everything, despite the fever burning through him, he's still Zaid...smug, teasing, and infuriatingly comforting.
After a moment, I awkwardly pull back, clearing my throat. "Oops... Zaid, what about your final preparations?"
He grins lazily, leaning against the cupboard. "Beemar hu, araam na kar lun pehle, ma'am?"
(I'm sick shouldn't I rest first ma'am?)
I nod quickly, feeling my cheeks warm. "Oh... sorry, yes, I...I might go then."
His arms tighten around me before I can step away. "Why?"
I look up at him, confused. "You need to rest, and I..."
He cuts me off, his hold firm yet gentle. "Wohi to kar raha hu," he murmurs, resting his chin on the top of my head.
(I'm doing exactly that)
I exhale sharply, rolling my eyes but leaning into him just a little. Flirty Zaid Mirza.
His arms stay firm around me, holding me in a warmth I didn't know I needed until now. I feel the soft rise and fall of his chest against mine, and for a second, I let myself melt into it. But then, reality creeps back in, and I pull away just enough to look up at him.
"Zaid?" I whisper, my voice unsure, hesitant.
He hums in response, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, his feverish eyes watching me like I'm the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. "Yes, sweetheart?"
I swallow hard, my fingers fidgeting against his chest. "I'm sorry if I... if I can't love you."
His smile falters for just a moment...so brief that I might have missed it if I weren't looking so closely. But instead of disappointment, I see something else in his eyes....something softer, more patient. He lifts his hand, fingers brushing lightly against my cheek, his touch featherlight yet firm, grounding me.
"Ayra" he murmurs, his thumb tracing soft circles against my skin, "it's okay."
I blink up at him, my heart racing in a way that makes me uncomfortable. "It's not okay, Zaid. You...you deserve someone who can love you back, someone who isn't ungrateful like me."
He chuckles softly, the sound rough from his sickness but still carrying that signature Zaid charm. "I don't need you to love me back right now, Ayra. I just need you to be here." His eyes search mine, deep and unwavering. "Loving you isn't a condition, it's just... something I do. Whether you love me or not doesn't change that."
My breath catches in my throat. "Zaid..."
He tilts his head slightly, his dimples appearing faintly despite his exhaustion. "You overthink everything, you know that?"
I scowl, pushing lightly at his chest, but he only tightens his grip, his smile widening. "Zaid, I'm serious."
"And I'm serious too," he replies softly. "I know you're scared, and that's okay. But Ayra..." He pauses, his forehead lightly touching mine. "You don't have to be sorry for something you're still figuring out."
I close my eyes for a second, letting his words settle into the parts of me that feel so unsure. When I open them, he's still there, looking at me like I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him.
How can someone love so much?
"I don't deserve this," I murmur.
Zaid's lips curve into that soft, teasing smile again. "Sweetheart, you deserve more than you think. And I have all the time in the world to prove it to you."
I bite my lip, staring at him. "And what if I can't ever love you back?"
He grins. "Still love you Ayra."
I sigh dramatically, leaning my forehead against his chest, and his arms instinctively tighten around me again. "Gosh never knew my enemy would be the clingy."
"Your enemy has a lot more things to offer sweetheart" he whispers.
"Shut up and rest idiot!"
(â à¹â Ëâ â¥â Ëâ à¹â )
HEY GUYS I HOPE Y'ALL ARE DOING FINE AND WELL.
I KNOW TODAY'S CHAPTER WAS REALLY SIMPLE BUT SOMETIMES YOU NEED PEACE AND WORDS OF AFFECTION IN LIFE.
I WAS REALLY CRYING WHILE WRITING RAHA'S SCENE... IT'S JUST THAT SPECIAL THING WHERE HE IS CONFUSED AND SHE'S THERE TO GIVE HIM ALL THE TIME IN THIS WORLD.
NEVER FORGET BEFORE SETTLING FOR ANYTHING ELSE OK?? ZAID MIRZA LOVED AYRA WITH EVERYTHING EVEN AFTER SHE KEPT BEING UNSURE OF HER FEELINGS.
THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GOING TO BE HILARIOUS ð
(USED ALL TYE IDEAS YOU GUYS SHARED)
SHARE YOUR HONEST REVIEWS ABOUT TODAY'S CHAPTER.
DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT.
DO FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM FOR UPDATES AND SPOILERS.
STAY SAFE AND HEALTHY.