14| The Bane Of His Existence

T H E B A N E O F

H I S E X I S T E N C E

W O R D  C O U N T: 3004

Hi beautiful people!

I need a favour. Can you please make a mini prayer for me? My husband lives in abroad and has been applying for my family visa so that we can celebrate eid together. Can you guys please pray that Allah makes the process easy and makes it possible for this to happen. Please. Please. Pretty please ♥️

Humza had always prided himself on being a man of focus. His world revolved around numbers, contracts, strategies, guns and revenge. Distractions? He didn't have the time or patience for them.

For years, his life had been simple—cold, efficient, predictable. Wake up, work, handle business, handle enemies, and repeat. Nothing else mattered.

And then came her.

Anaabiya.

The bane of his existence.

Somehow, without his permission, she had bulldozed into his life, wrecking his perfectly structured world. And what was worse? He let her.

No, worse than that—he enjoyed it.

Which was insane.

Because Humza wasn't the type to enjoy anything outside his work. But something about her made it impossible to look away. Maybe it was the way she always had a sharp comeback, never cowering like others did in front of him. Or maybe it was the way she glared at him like he was the most annoying creature to exist—as if he was the problem and not her.

That should have pissed him off. But instead, it made him want to push her buttons even more.

And lately, she had stopped reacting.

He had spent days watching her purposefully avoid him. She left rooms the moment he entered, changed directions if he was coming her way, and—to top it all off—hadn't thrown a single insult at him in days.

It was unnatural. Unacceptable.

And then he heard about the biryani.

For someone else.

Not just someone. A colleague.

That was when Humza knew something was seriously wrong with him. Because the very thought made him feel irrationally annoyed.

What business did she have making biryani for someone else? He didn't even like biryani that much, but suddenly, he wanted to throw that whole pot out of the house or eat it all just to make a point.

And what was the point? He had no idea.

All he knew was that he wanted her attention back on him.

And if she refused to give it willingly?

Well.

He'd just have to make sure she had no choice.

Humza knew one thing for certain—he was not in love.

Hell, he didn't even know what that word meant.

Love? It was just a glorified illusion, a fairy tale people told themselves to justify their weaknesses. He had seen enough to know it was a lie. His own mother had claimed to love his father, yet even after his death, she had moved on so quickly with his own brother, proving what he had always suspected—women were incapable of loyalty.

So, no. Whatever this thing was with Anaabiya, it wasn't love.

It was something else entirely.

She was his toy. That was all.

A toy he had no interest in sharing.

Whether he played with it or not was his decision, but no one else was allowed to so much as look at it. That was the rule.

And yet here she was, his toy, cooking for some other man. Laughing, making conversation, dedicating time and effort to someone who wasn't him.

That realization sat like a stone in his chest.

So he assured himself—this isn't love. It's possession. Control. A game.

And right now, Anaabiya was breaking the rules.

And he didn't like it one bit.

He sat in the living space, arms crossed, waiting. Huzaifa had left by then, wanting to play no part in whatever was going on.

Humza had promised her he would watch. He would prove to her that Ahad had other intentions.

From where he sat, he could see into the kitchen. Anaabiya emerged, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, her face relaxed.

She had been working hard—too hard—for a man who wasn't even that important.

That annoyed him.

He knew Ahad was the same guy he had seen her with outside the school—the day he had first called her to meet him at the subway.

Back then, he had assumed Ahad was her boyfriend, an assumption that hadn't bothered him much then. It wasn't until he'd done a proper background check on her that he realized otherwise.

But what stuck with him was the way she had looked that day—relaxed, at ease, smiling at Ahad like she was completely comfortable with him.

Had she ever been that comfortable around him?

His grip on the armrest tightened.

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was the guard.

"Sir, a man by the name of Ahad is here. He says he has been invited.."

Humza smirked. "Let him in."

Anaabiya, who had just stepped into the living space, shot him a look.

"Let him in?" she repeated, eyebrows raised. "You say that like he's walking into a death trap."

Humza tilted his head. "Should I have said send him to his grave instead?"

Her eyes narrowed. "That's not funny."

He smirked. "I wasn't joking."

Before she could reply, the doorbell rang.

Humza stood up, rolling back his shoulders. "I'll open it."

But before he could take a step, Anaabiya pushed past him. "No, thank you."

They both reached the hallway at the same time, shoulders bumping, neither willing to give way.

"Move," he ordered.

"You move," she shot back, determined.

His jaw clenched.

Then, before he could react, she stomped on his foot.

Humza barely bit back a curse when Anaabiya stomped on his foot and rushed forward to open the door.

That little—

He was right behind her, moving too fast to stop himself, and for a second, he almost collided into her. His hand shot out, pressing against the wall beside her to steady himself, his other hand landing lightly against her back. Not that he needed support—he just liked seeing her tense under his touch.

But then his attention shifted to the man at the door.

Ahad.

Humza recognized him immediately. The same Ahad from that day outside her school. The same Ahad she had smiled at like she was completely comfortable with him.

That thought didn't sit well with him.

But what did sit well with him was the way Ahad looked right now—like he had walked straight into enemy territory unarmed.

Humza smirked.

Ahad's eyes darted around, taking in the sight of heavily armed guards stationed outside the house, and Humza didn't miss the way he swallowed hard.

Perfect.

"What's wrong?" Humza asked, his voice deliberately slow, filled with amusement. "Didn't expect the grand welcome?"

Ahad hesitated, his confidence visibly shaken. "I—uh—" He cleared his throat. "I didn't realize there would be this much security."

Beside him, Anaabiya shot Humza a glare over her shoulder. "Did you do this on purpose?"

Humza raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Do what?"

"You know what."

He smirked, pleased by how irritated she looked. "I can't help it if my house requires protection."

Ahad shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe I should come back later—"

"Nonsense," Humza interrupted smoothly, stepping around Anaabiya to stand in front of Ahad. He made sure to stand close enough that Ahad would have to tilt his head up slightly to meet his gaze.

"You're already here," Humza continued, voice cool, calm, and vaguely threatening. "Come in."

Humza extended his hand, his smirk widening as he looked Ahad straight in the eye.

"Humza," he introduced himself, his voice laced with amusement. "Anaabiya's husband."

Ahad hesitated for the briefest moment before reaching out to shake his hand. The second their palms met, Humza tightened his grip—just enough to make a point.

Ahad let out a sharp, startled noise, almost a shriek, and Humza immediately let go, tilting his head in mock concern. "Something wrong?"

Ahad quickly shook his hand out, forcing a nervous chuckle. "No—no, everything's fine."

Humza arched an eyebrow, his smirk never fading. "Good."

Anaabiya, who had been watching the entire exchange, looked like she was seconds away from murdering him. Her glare could've burned holes through him, but Humza barely spared her a glance.

This was already turning out to be more fun than he expected.

Humza clapped a firm hand on Ahad's shoulder, steering him inside with an ease that made it seem as if he had invited him over, not Anaabiya.

"Come in, Ahad," he said smoothly, leading him toward the living room. "Make yourself comfortable."

Ahad, clearly confused and nervous, shot a quick glance at Anaabiya, as if silently asking for help. But she was too busy glaring daggers at Humza to intervene.

Before Ahad could even think of sitting anywhere else, Humza guided him straight to the sofa across from where he had been sitting, motioning for him to take a seat. Then, with deliberate slowness, Humza took the spot directly opposite him, stretching an arm over the backrest as if he had all the time in the world.

Anaabiya walked in a second later, her arms crossed, her expression nothing short of murder. But Humza ignored her completely, his full attention on Ahad.

"So, Ahad," he began, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "What exactly do you do?"

Humza leaned back on the sofa, crossing one ankle over his knee as he watched Ahad squirm.

Ahad cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under Humza's intense gaze. "I—I'm a teacher."

Humza raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. "A teacher? How noble." He leaned forward slightly, his smirk deepening. "And what exactly do you teach?"

"Uh... chemistry."

Humza nodded slowly, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "Ah, so you deal with all sorts of... reactions." His smirk widened at the double meaning, but Ahad only chuckled nervously.

Anaabiya, still standing with her arms crossed, shot Humza a sharp look. "Are you done with your interrogation?"

Humza didn't even spare her a glance. His eyes remained on Ahad as he continued smoothly, "I just like to know the kind of people my wife keeps company with."

"Ahad," he began casually, swirling the glass of water in his hand, "are you single?"

Ahad blinked, looking completely caught off guard. "Uh... what?"

Humza smirked. "It's a simple question." He glanced at Anaabiya, who was glaring at him, then turned back to Ahad. "Do you have a girlfriend? A fiancée? A wife waiting at home?"

Ahad cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "No, I don't."

Humza's smirk deepened. "Really? A good-looking teacher like you? No admirers?"

Ahad chuckled nervously. "I—uh, I don't really have time for relationships."

Humza hummed, nodding. "Of course. Too busy with work." He shot Anaabiya a sideways glance. "Or maybe too busy accepting dinner invitations?"

Anaabiya exhaled sharply. "Humza."

He ignored her, his eyes still locked on Ahad. "But if you did have time, what's your type?"

Ahad shifted uncomfortably, darting a quick glance at Anaabiya before looking back at Humza. "I—I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

Humza tilted his head, pretending to think. "Not even once? You must have a preference. Brunettes? Tall? Soft-spoken? Maybe... independent, stubborn, annoying?" His eyes flickered to Anaabiya before returning to Ahad.

Ahad looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "I—I mean, I guess everyone has a type..."

Humza grinned. "And what about Anaabiya? Is she your type?"

Anaabiya gasped. "Humza, stop it!"

Ahad's eyes widened in panic as he waved his hands frantically. "No, no! I mean—Anaabiya is a great person, but we're just friends!"

Humza's smirk remained, but his eyes darkened slightly. "Just friends?"

"Yes," Ahad said quickly.

Humza let the silence stretch between them, letting Ahad fidget for a few seconds before he finally leaned back with a satisfied nod.

"Good." He picked up his glass, taking a slow sip. "Just making sure."

Humza barely had a second to react when Anaabiya turned to Ahad with a tight smile, her teeth clenched in barely restrained anger.

"Ahad, can you excuse us for a moment?" she said sweetly, though her tone was anything but. "My husband and I need to talk."

Before Humza could smirk at her choice of words, she did something that genuinely stunned him.

She grabbed his hand.

Not just a quick pull or a forceful yank—she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, her palm warm against his skin, and pulled him up from the sofa.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he forgot everything else.

He had wanted to stay and keep toying with Ahad, watch him squirm a little longer—but the way her hand fit around his, the way she was physically dragging him away, made him want to let it last a few more seconds.

A stupid thought, but he didn't let go.

She stormed into the kitchen, dragging him behind her before finally releasing his hand with a frustrated huff.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped, spinning around to face him.

Humza cocked an eyebrow, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You'll have to be more specific, my beloved wife."

"Don't call me that," she seethed. "What the hell do you think you're doing out there?"

"Having a conversation with your dear friend," he said smoothly, leaning against the counter. "Isn't that what good hosts do?"

She exhaled sharply, glaring at him. "You're not 'conversing,' Humza. You're interrogating him like he's some criminal."

Humza smirked. "If he's innocent, why is he sweating so much?"

Anaabiya threw her hands up in frustration. "Because you're acting like a psycho! You're trying to scare off the only friend I have here!"

His smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he masked it.

"Ah, so he's the only friend?" He clicked his tongue. "That makes sense. You did make him biryani, after all."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He tilted his head. "Telling you the truth? I mean, come on, Anaabiya. You really think he's here just to eat dinner?"

"Yes!" she bit out. "Not everything is some twisted game like you think! Some people just have normal friendships!"

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You're so naïve."

"And you're so infuriating!" she shot back, stepping closer. "You—You act like this doesn't bother you, like you don't care, but you can't stand it when I talk to someone else, can you?"

His jaw clenched, but he masked it with another smirk. "You're overestimating yourself, my love." He leaned in slightly, his tone casual but laced with something sharper. "All I care about is what people around me think of our marriage. You flirting with other people won't exactly send the right message, now will it?"

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Really? Is that all? Then why are you acting like some jealous caveman every time I so much as breathe in another man's direction?"

Humza's smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. "Because it's fun watching you get all riled up."

Her eyes narrowed, her fists clenching. "You are unbelievable."

"And you," he murmured, stepping just an inch closer, "are terrible at picking friends."

Her nostrils flared. "You're impossible."

"Yet here you are," he mused, eyes flickering to her lips for just a second, "fighting with me instead of sitting out there with him."

"Please atleast let me have dinner with him in peace." She pleaded.

For the first time that evening, Anaabiya's voice wavered. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"He's not just a friend," she whispered. "He's the only one who's left of my past life. Only one who ever cared for me. Even a little."

Humza's smirk faded.

"I've already lost my sister. My aunt," she continued, her voice cracking. "Everybody has their own lives, their own happiness. No one looks back. But Ahad—he still reaches out. He still cares." She looked at him then, really looked at him, and the accusation in her gaze made his chest tighten. "You've taken everyone away from me. Please... just let him be.. I will not ruin things for you. You don't have to worry. Nobody will doubt our marriage. I promise. He is just a friend."

Humza clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the edge of the counter.

He hated it.

The sound of her voice breaking.

The way she looked right now, holding herself together like she was afraid she might fall apart.

He hated it.

A part of him wanted to scoff, to tell her that he hadn't taken her sister or her aunt away—he had never stood in their way. The truth was, they had left on their own. They just didn't care enough to stay.

But he didn't say it.

Because right now, that wouldn't make a difference.

He exhaled sharply and stepped back. He didn't want to win this one. Not at this expense.

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Anaabiya stood frozen, probably expecting more resistance, but he didn't look back.

Something was wrong with him.

He didn't want to play anymore.

The suffocating feeling in his chest, the heaviness pressing at the back of his mind—it was all too much. He needed to get out, to clear his head, to remind himself of who he was.

Grabbing his car keys from the hallway table, he strode out of the house, his security trailing behind him.

He didn't know where he was going.

He just knew he needed to get away.

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E D I T E D on 15.2.2025