13| Backfired

B A C K F I R E D

W O R D C O U N T: 2716

I have decided to keep updating here and later on publish on amazon so anybody who wants to own a copy can buy it there but for the people who can't, you can read it here. I want to make you guys happy because your comments make me so happy.

Here is a chapter from Humza's POV

Enjoy♥️

Humza leaned against his desk, his fingers pressing against his temples as he listened to Huzaifa list out the latest problem. His patience was running thin. His entire plan—his project—was being threatened, and the rage bubbling inside him was barely contained.

"This isn't a coincidence," Humza muttered, jaw tight. "Someone's trying to undercut us."

Huzaifa, seated across from him, exhaled. "It's Malik," he confirmed. "He's been in talks with the investors, feeding them bullshit about your past, about how unreliable you are."

Humza's fists clenched. "Of course, it's him." He slammed his hand against the desk, making some papers scatter. "That bastard has been looking for an opening for months."

"We can handle it," Huzaifa assured. "But we need to make a move fast. If Malik convinces them to pull out—"

"They won't," Humza cut in, his voice sharp. "I'll make sure of it."

Huzaifa nodded but then, as if sensing something, he smirked. "Speaking of making moves..."

Humza frowned. "What?"

"Anaabiya."

The name alone made him shift uncomfortably.

"What about her?" he asked, his tone clipped.

Huzaifa leaned back, enjoying this too much. "Nothing. Just wondering how that whole... situation is going."

Humza didn't answer right away. Instead, he picked up a stray paper from the desk, pretending to read it. But his grip on it tightened.

It wasn't going anywhere. That's what.

And yet, for some damn reason, she was still on his mind.

At first, Humza thought it was just a coincidence.

Anaabiya leaving the dining room just as he walked in? Maybe she was done eating.

Turning away in the corridor the moment she spotted him? Maybe she was in a hurry.

Never once looking at him when they were in the same room? Maybe she was just... distracted.

But as the days passed, the pattern became too deliberate to ignore.

She wasn't just avoiding him—she was actively making sure she didn't have to be around him at all.

The realization sat uncomfortably in his chest.

It was in the little things. The way she kept conversations with Rafiya Aunty and Bibijaan flowing, but the moment he entered, her words would dry up and she'd excuse herself. The way she could laugh with Maliha but wouldn't spare him a glance. The way she moved through the house as if she was navigating around him, changing her path before she even had to cross his.

And he hated how much he noticed.

How much it bothered him.

She was the one who used to fight back, who used to throw sharp remarks his way, who used to glare at him like she wanted to strangle him.

Unknowingly, he had started to enjoy it—a thrilling distraction from his otherwise monotonous life. She had a knack for it too, always finding a way to get under his skin just when he least expected it.

Now? Now she didn't even acknowledge him.

Humza wasn't sure which version of her was worse.

But this? This silent treatment?

It was starting to piss him off.

Humza leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest as he stared at the ceiling.

It wasn't like he cared.

Why would he?

Anaabiya ignoring him had no effect on him whatsoever. It wasn't as if he enjoyed their little arguments or the way she used to glare at him like she wanted to set him on fire. It wasn't as if he noticed the way she deliberately turned away the second he entered a room.

It didn't bother him.

Not at all. He certainly didn't like her.

But still...

A smirk tugged at his lips.

She thought she could pretend he didn't exist? Fine.

But he wasn't about to let her get away with it so easily.

If she wanted to act like he wasn't there, he'd make sure she had no choice but to acknowledge him.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

It wasn't about wanting her attention. It wasn't about caring.

It was about the game.

He loved driving her mad, pushing her buttons, forcing a reaction out of her.

And if she thought she could ignore him?

She was about to realize just how wrong she was.

Humza walked into the living room that afternoon, his smirk already in place as his eyes landed on Anaabiya.

She was seated on the sofa, her posture relaxed—until she heard them.

For a split second, he saw the way she tensed, fingers tightening slightly on the remote, her back straightening as if preparing to leave. He almost expected her to get up and walk away like she always did.

But she didn't.

Instead, she stayed put, eyes fixed on the TV, pretending as if they hadn't just entered the room.

Interesting.

He exchanged a quick glance with Huzaifa before making his way to the opposite sofa, deliberately choosing the seat directly across from her.

"Man, that was a long day," Huzaifa sighed as he sank into the cushions. "Feels good to just sit for a while."

Humza hummed in agreement, his eyes never leaving Anaabiya.

"Good afternoon, Anaabiya," Huzaifa greeted with a polite smile.

Anaabiya turned to him immediately, her lips curving into a small, polite smile. "Good afternoon, Huzaifa."

Humza waited.

Nothing.

Not a single glance in his direction.

His jaw twitched.

He leaned back, making himself comfortable, his arms stretched out across the back of the sofa, his expression unreadable.

So that was how she wanted to play?

Fine.

Let's see how long she could keep this up.

Humza leaned back into the sofa, his fingers tapping lazily on his phone as he scrolled through his contacts. His eyes flickered to Anaabiya—still acting as if he didn't exist.

His patience snapped.

He smirked before pressing call.

"Malika," he said smoothly the moment she picked up. His voice was warm, laced with a softness he knew would irritate Anaabiya. "Where are you?"

Across from him, she didn't move. Didn't even flinch.

"We haven't gone out in a while," he continued, his tone deliberately affectionate. "Let's change that. I'm taking you to dinner. Your favorite restaurant."

Still nothing from Anaabiya.

Humza felt his irritation spike. This should have worked. He knew she hated seeing him with anyone else. He knew it bothered her.

But she didn't even spare him a glance.

Instead, she turned to Huzaifa, starting a casual conversation as if Humza weren't even in the room.

He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening slightly on the phone as Malika's excited voice filled the line.

"I'll be down in five minutes!" she chirped.

"Great," he replied, forcing himself to sound pleased. "I'll be waiting."

Minutes later, Malika came downstairs with a satisfied smile, dressed to impress, her confidence practically radiating off her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she walked toward them, her eyes immediately landing on Anaabiya.

"I must say," Malika drawled, her tone dripping with amusement, "I didn't expect Humza to call me tonight. But then again, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Anaabiya didn't react. She simply leaned back into the sofa, her expression unreadable as she kept her attention on the TV.

Humza cast one last look at Anaabiya, waiting for a flicker of something. Annoyance. Jealousy. Anything.

Nothing.

She continued chatting with Huzaifa, her expression calm, uninterested.

Something about it unsettled him.

She was getting better at this game.

Malika smirked and turned to Humza. "It's nice of you to take me out, though. I mean, it's not like you have any other responsibilities, right?"

Humza, who had been watching Anaabiya closely for any reaction, suddenly felt annoyed. This wasn't how he had planned things. He had wanted a reaction from Anaabiya, but Malika's attempt to taunt her felt off.

Anaabiya, however, finally turned her head, meeting Malika's smug gaze with a calm one. "You're right," she said, her voice even. "He doesn't have any responsibilities."

That made Humza's jaw tighten.

Malika blinked, clearly not expecting Anaabiya to remain so composed. "Exactly," she said quickly. "That's why he chooses to spend time with me. I'm the one he wants to take out."

Anaabiya's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Actually, it's good you're going. I'll finally have the house to myself."

Malika raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yes," Anaabiya said nonchalantly, stretching her arms as if completely at ease. "My colleague from school is coming over."

Humza's entire body tensed.

A colleague?

His grip on the armrest tightened as he forced himself to stay calm, but a slow burn started somewhere deep in his chest. His cool was slipping, and he knew it.

Before he could say anything, a sharp whistle echoed from the kitchen—the pressure cooker going off.

Anaabiya casually got to her feet. "That's my cue."

Huzaifa, who had been quietly observing the exchange, leaned forward with an amused grin. "Are you cooking something?"

"Yes," she said over her shoulder, her tone light. "I'm making biryani for him."

And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Humza barely heard what Malika was saying anymore. His mind was stuck on Anaabiya's words.

Biryani for him?

His jaw clenched, his fingers drumming against the armrest in irritation. He had planned on driving her mad tonight, but somehow, she had flipped the entire game on him.

Malika was still talking, but he had had enough.

"I'm not going," he cut in abruptly.

Malika gaped at him. "What?"

"You can go if you want," he said with barely restrained anger. "I've changed my mind."

She stared at him in disbelief, then scoffed angrily before stomping back to her room, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

The moment she was gone, Huzaifa let out a low whistle before bursting into laughter.

"Oh man," he said, shaking his head. "That backfired on you real bad."

Humza shot him a glare. "Shut up."

But Huzaifa only laughed harder. "You should've seen your face."

Humza didn't respond. His mind was already elsewhere—on a certain woman in the kitchen, and the damn biryani she was making.

Huzaifa, still chuckling at his expense, shook his head. "Man, you are so—"

But Humza didn't let him finish. With a sharp exhale, he got up, leaving a smirking Huzaifa behind as he strode toward the kitchen. He didn't know why he was doing this. He didn't care.

The moment he stepped into the doorway, he stopped.

Anaabiya stood by the stove, humming softly, completely oblivious to his presence. A light melody, something sweet and familiar. His eyes trailed down as she swayed slightly, her hips moving just a little in tune with the rhythm.

He should have announced himself. Should have said something.

But he didn't.

He just stood there, watching.

For a moment, something unfamiliar settled in his chest—something dangerously close to admiration. But then he remembered why he was here.

She wasn't doing this for him.

She was making all this effort for someone else.

His face hardened instantly, the sudden surge of irritation pushing him forward. He didn't bother to soften his steps, and just as expected, she froze mid-hum. The slight sway of her hips stopped.

She had sensed him.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Wordlessly, he walked up beside her, placing one hand on the counter—too close, too deliberate.

"Your boyfriend can't come," he said, his voice low, calm, almost lazy.

Anaabiya didn't react immediately. She didn't correct him. She simply reached for the spoon, stirring the biryani with quiet focus, as if he hadn't spoken.

That only irked him more.

He narrowed his eyes. "Did you hear me?"

This time, she did react. Not with words, but by stepping away from him, moving toward the sink as if putting space between them.

That made his blood boil.

Before she could go any further, he moved too—quick, blocking her way with ease.

Anaabiya stopped short, looking up at him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Move," she said, voice clipped.

His smirk deepened. "No."

She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. "I don't know what your problem is, but—"

"My problem," he cut her off, leaning in slightly, "is that you're too naïve."

Anaabiya scoffed. "Oh, please."

His jaw ticked. "You really think your so-called 'colleague' is just coming here for food?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation, tilting her head challengingly. "Because unlike you, I don't assume the worst about people."

He let out a dry chuckle. "That's because you don't know people. Men, especially."

"Oh, right," she shot back sarcastically. "And you do?"

"I am one." His voice was smooth, assured. "And trust me, we don't show up at a woman's house just for dinner."

Anaabiya glared at him, her frustration evident. "Not everything is about—"

"Cancel."

She blinked. "What?"

He leaned closer, voice firm. "Tell him not to come."

Anaabiya's hands curled into fists at her sides. "You don't control me."

Humza smirked, amused by her resistance. "That's cute. But I wasn't asking."

Her nostrils flared. "Well, I wasn't answering."

His eyes darkened, the teasing glint fading just a little.

She was pushing him.

And damn it, he liked it. It excited him.

Anaabiya held his gaze, refusing to back down, even as the space between them felt suffocating. Humza wasn't just standing close—he was towering over her, his presence demanding, overwhelming. But she wouldn't let him win. Not this time.

She tilted her chin up defiantly. "You think you can just order me around?"

Humza's jaw tightened. "If it keeps you from making stupid decisions, then yeah."

She scoffed. "Stupid? You mean having dinner with a colleague is a 'stupid decision'?"

He let out a humorless chuckle. "It is when he has other intentions."

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "Not every man is like you."

That made something flicker in his gaze. His smirk vanished, replaced by something sharper.

He took another step forward, forcing her back against the counter. "Like me?" he repeated, his voice dangerously quiet. "Tell me what am I like? What are my intentions?"

Anaabiya swallowed but held her ground. "Yes like you. A man who thinks every interaction between a man and a woman has to mean something."

Humza exhaled sharply through his nose, planting his hands firmly on the counter, caging her in. His gaze flickered with challenge as he leaned in slightly. "Then tell me," he drawled, his voice low. "What does this mean?"

His patience was wearing thin, but he refused to let it show. He noticed the slight shudder that ran through her, yet she still managed to lift her chin and glare at him.

"It means you're a jerk," she shot back, refusing to back down.

"You think I'm just making this up?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

She lifted her chin stubbornly. "Yes."

His jaw ticked. For a moment, he simply watched her, his dark gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk—one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Fine," he murmured. "Go ahead. Let him come."

She frowned. "What?"

He straightened, stepping back slightly, but his stance remained firm. "If you really believe he's just here for dinner, prove me wrong."

She hesitated.

His smirk widened, his tone turning almost mocking. "Oh? Having second thoughts now?"

"No," she said quickly, but he caught the flicker of doubt.

"Good." He shoved his hands into his pockets, his head tilting slightly. "I'll be right here, watching."

Her brows furrowed. "Watching?"

He gave a careless shrug. "I'd love to see how 'harmless' your colleague really is."

There. He had planted the seed of doubt. And if nothing else, at least this so-called colleague had finally gotten her to talk to him

Vola! I updated and might I tell you, it was only because of your messages. Tired now. Please reward me with a vote and comment beautiful people ♥

E D I T E D on 15.2.2025