44| Makeup Skills

M A K E U P S K I L L S

W O R D C O U N T: 5209

So I wanted to update earlier today but got delayed because i have a lot of packing and shopping to do. In sha Allah my flight will be on 26th this month. A biiiggg thankyou to anyone who prayed for me. I will be celebrating Eid with my husband in sha Allah🫠 May Allah make things easy for you as he made for me.♥️

And I hope you like this chapter.☺

Anaabiya stretched lazily, a contented sigh escaping her lips as the golden morning sunlight poured through the open window, casting a warm glow over her room. She tilted her head slightly, watching as the soft beams danced along the walls, filling the space with an ethereal serenity.

"What a beautiful morning," she murmured to herself, a small, dreamy smile tugging at her lips.

Yesterday had been the most extraordinary, most unexpected day of her existence. She could hardly believe it. The memories played in her mind like a sweet, intoxicating melody, each one sending a fresh wave of warmth through her chest.

Who would have thought? Who would have believed that her world—so shattered, so filled with pain—could change in the blink of an eye? That the very man who had tormented her, pushed her away, and broken her heart would be the one to breathe life back into it?

Her Rabb had turned her life around in mere seconds. She was astonished. Grateful.

Yet, despite the overwhelming joy that still lingered from last night, a hint of mischief flickered in her eyes. Much to her dismay, she had slept alone. It wasn't that she didn't long to be in his arms, to feel his warmth enveloping her. No, she wanted nothing more than that. But the rule was simple—make him desperate.

She bit her lip, her smile growing wider as she recalled the way his voice had trembled when he confessed his love. The sheer vulnerability in his eyes, the way he had held onto her as if letting go meant losing himself—everything about that moment had been spellbinding.

For once, it was Humza who had been at her mercy. And she had every intention of keeping him there for as long as she pleased.

Anaabiya couldn't get enough of it. Call her foolish, call her lovesick, but she wanted to hear it again and again. Those three simple words, spilling from his lips, wrapped in raw sincerity—I love you.

The memory played on an endless loop in her mind, making her heart race each time she relived it. She had barely slept the night before, tossing and turning, practically squealing into her pillow every now and then. It felt surreal. For so long, she had longed for this moment—had prayed for it. And now, it was hers.

But more than that, relief coursed through her veins. He hadn't cheated on her. Though his actions had cut her deeply, though she still couldn't understand why he had chosen to hurt her so deliberately, she knew now that it had all been to push her away. To make her hate him.

He had failed. Miserably.

After offering Fajr, exhaustion finally took over, and she drifted into a peaceful sleep. When she woke up, the soft golden light of morning had already filled the room, and the clock on the wall read 8:30 AM.

A delicious, rich aroma wafted through the air, tickling her senses and making her stomach tighten with hunger. She inhaled deeply, savoring the mouthwatering scent of Machboos and kebabs.

Are we having guests today? She frowned slightly. If so, why hadn't anyone informed her?

Curious and hungry, she quickly slipped out of bed. A hot shower was the first order of business, washing away the remnants of sleep and replacing them with a fresh wave of energy. She dressed in something comfortable, deliberately deciding against wearing her hijab inside the house from now on.

The tempting aroma continued to lure her, making her stomach grumble in protest. Without wasting another second, she followed the scent, her pace quickening until she found herself practically sprinting towards the kitchen.

As Anaabiya stepped into the kitchen, the first person her eyes landed on was Nabiha. Her younger sister sat casually on the kitchen counter, lazily munching on an apple, seemingly unbothered by the world around her.

But it was the second person that made Anaabiya freeze in her tracks.

Her breath hitched, a sharp inhale escaping her lips as her hesitant gaze locked onto the familiar figure standing just a few feet away. Even without seeing his face, she would recognize him anywhere.

Humza.

At that moment, all she could see was his back, yet even that was enough to send her heart into a frenzy. He stood effortlessly tall, exuding the kind of presence that demanded attention without a single spoken word. He was dressed simply—wearing a white shirt, slightly transparent under the warm kitchen lights, revealing the faint outlines of his muscles underneath. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders, complementing the black lower he wore beneath it.

One of his hands rested on the counter, his posture relaxed yet firm, while the other held a metal skewer, skillfully flipping the kebabs over the sizzling grill. The rich, smoky aroma of the perfectly seasoned meat filled the air, blending with the warmth of the morning, creating an intoxicating mix that sent Anaabiya's senses spiraling.

She watched him, unable to tear her eyes away. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved—his fluid, effortless grace as he handled the skewers with precision, the slight furrow in his brow as he focused on his task.

He was cooking.

For her? For himself? For someone else?

She wasn't sure.

All she knew was that in that moment, she wasn't just looking at a man standing in the kitchen. She was looking at her husband. The same man who had confessed his love for her just hours ago. The same man who had made her feel like she was the center of his world—before ruthlessly tearing her apart.

And yet, despite everything, here she was. Unable to look away.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Humza asked hesitantly, his grip tightening around the metal skewer.

Anaabiya froze at the doorway, her heart stuttering at the words. He was doing this for her.

Nabiha, who was perched on the kitchen counter, took another crisp bite of her apple and hummed in amusement. "She loves Machboos and kebabs. If you don't mess it up, she might actually be impressed."

Humza scoffed. "Excuse me? Mess it up? Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Yes," Nabiha deadpanned. "A man who just learned where the kitchen is."

Humza narrowed his eyes at her. "I can cook."

"Since when?"

"Since... now."

"Right." Nabiha dragged out the word, unimpressed. "So, what exactly made you think you could suddenly whip up a perfect Omani meal?"

Humza turned back to the grill, flipping the skewers with careful precision. "Because I'm Syed Humza Junaid. I can do anything."

Nabiha snorted. "Yeah? Then why are your hands shaking?"

"They're not."

"They totally are."

Humza sighed, rolling his shoulders back. "Look, just—if she hates it, don't tell me."

Nabiha smirked. "Oh, I'll tell you. In detail."

Just then, a soft cough interrupted them.

Both turned toward the doorway to see Anaabiya standing there.

Nabiha instantly jumped off the counter, while Humza straightened, his body going rigid for a split second before he relaxed.

His eyes swept over her, slow and deliberate. Anaabiya, who had only meant to enter the kitchen, suddenly forgot how to breathe under his gaze.

The morning light illuminated his white shirt, which was slightly transparent, hinting at the sculpted form beneath. His sleeves were rolled up, his dark hair slightly tousled from the heat. There was something undeniably captivating about the sight of him standing there—cooking for her.

The side of Humza's mouth twitched into a knowing smirk. "How long have you been eavesdropping?"

Anaabiya lifted her chin. "Long enough to hear you doubt yourself."

"I wasn't doubting myself," he corrected smoothly. "I was—"

"Ensuring perfection," Nabiha cut in, mocking his tone. "Yeah, yeah. We heard it all, MasterChef."

"Shut up, Nabiha."

"You shut up."

Anaabiya bit back a smile, shaking her head. "I hope the food's as good as your confidence, Chef Humza."

Humza leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "You'll be begging for another plate, Mrs. Junaid."

Anaabiya blinked, heat rushing to her face at the way he referred to her.

"Ugh," Nabiha groaned. "You two are unbearable. I'm leaving before I lose my appetite."

She grabbed her apple and sauntered out, leaving Humza and Anaabiya alone in the kitchen.

Humza smirked. "So? Impressed?"

Anaabiya rolled her eyes, pretending not to be. "I'll let you know after I taste it."

But deep down, she already knew—she was impressed. More than she wanted to admit.

Anaabiya stepped forward, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she removed the lids from the covered pots on the counter. A warm, rich aroma wafted up, wrapping around her senses. In one of the pots, she found sakhana, a dish she adored, while the others remained empty, waiting to be filled.

She glanced at Humza, arching a brow. "What are you cooking?"

"All your favorites, ma'am," he responded smoothly.

Her breath hitched slightly, but she quickly masked it with an air of nonchalance. Make him desperate, she reminded herself. If he thought a simple meal could win her over completely, he had another thing coming.

She turned to look at him, but he was busy cooking, his strong hands working expertly as he handled the kebabs. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he moved—precise, confident, completely in control. Watching your man cook is such a turn-on, she thought before immediately scolding herself. Not the point, Anaabiya. Stay focused.

She waited, expecting him to say something—to tease her, to throw one of his usual cocky remarks—but he remained quiet, entirely absorbed in his task.

Her brows furrowed. Why isn't he talking?

Unable to take the silence any longer, she cleared her throat. "So... anything special today?" she asked, leaning back against the counter, folding her arms across her chest.

She felt his gaze shift instantly, burning into her with an intensity that made her fingers twitch. Still, she refused to look at him, choosing instead to act as if she was merely making casual conversation.

Humza didn't respond immediately, and the delay made her stomach tighten in anticipation. Finally, he set the skewer down and turned toward her, his lips curving slightly.

"I'm cooking for you," he said simply. His voice was deep, deliberate, carrying a weight that made her pulse quicken.

Her throat suddenly felt dry.

Humza stepped closer, reaching past her to grab the empty pots, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm spices in the air. His presence was overwhelming, his proximity sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

Without breaking eye contact, he carefully began filling the pots with the sizzling kebabs, his movements unhurried. Almost as if he was waiting for her to react.

Anaabiya swallowed, tilting her head slightly. "And what if I don't like it?" she challenged, arching a brow.

Humza smirked, completely unfazed. "Then I'll just have to keep trying. Until you do."

Her heartbeat stuttered, but she forced herself to roll her eyes. "Big words, Chef Humza."

"Big promises, my love."

Anaabiya inhaled sharply. He was playing dirty.

But two could play that game.

She smirked. "Let's see if your cooking is as good as your flirting, then."

Humza chuckled, shaking his head as he returned to his task.

Little did he know, no matter how the food tasted, he was already winning.

Anaabiya walked beside him, watching as he carefully transferred the sizzling kebabs onto a plate. The aroma was intoxicating, but she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Don't you think this is a bit too heavy for breakfast?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Humza didn't even glance at her as he continued working. "I know, but Nabiha said you liked it." His voice was soft, laced with a gentleness that caught her off guard.

Her heart stuttered. He really was doing all of this for her.

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble," she murmured, trying to sound unaffected.

Humza finally turned to face her, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The corner of his lips quirked up slightly. "I wanted to," he admitted. Then, with a smirk, he added, "Besides, you're still walking around with my kiss. I thought I should at least earn it properly."

Anaabiya's breath hitched. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she clenched her fists, trying to will away the reaction he so obviously enjoyed.

Determined to ignore the way her heart was racing, she cleared her throat and reached for the skewers. "Here, let me help—"

Before she could even grasp them, Humza swiftly took them from her hands.

"You?" He scoffed playfully, shaking his head. "No way. You're not helping. Just sit there and watch."

Anaabiya scowled, placing her hands on her hips. "Excuse me? I do know how to cook, you know."

Humza let out a dramatic sigh. "I never said you didn't. But today, I'm doing this for you. So, hands off, Mrs. Junaid."

Anaabiya rolled her eyes, but deep down, she couldn't ignore the warmth blooming in her chest.

Anaabiya's stomach grumbled as the rich aroma of the food filled the air. Her eyes darted to the steaming pots in front of her, and she barely resisted the urge to dig in like a starving person.

"I'm starving," she announced, eyeing the food eagerly. "Is it ready yet?"

Humza chuckled at her impatience and stepped back, gesturing to the pots with a smirk. "Yes, ma'am. Go ahead, try some."

She didn't need to be told twice. Snatching the spoon he offered, she wasted no time in dipping it into the first pot. The warm, golden soup—Sakhana—coated her tongue with a rich, comforting flavor, and she had to fight to keep her expression neutral.

"Mmm..." she hummed, trying to play it cool. "Not bad."

Humza snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. "Liar. You love it."

Anaabiya shot him a look before shifting her attention to the next dish. Scooping up a bite of Machboos, she tasted the perfectly seasoned rice and tender meat. Her mother used to make Machboos just like this, and for a brief second, a pang of nostalgia hit her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she set the spoon aside and reached for the Afghani Chicken with her hands instead. The creamy white gravy clung to her fingers as she took a bite, and the moment it touched her tongue, she nearly melted. The flavors were rich, velvety, and utterly mouthwatering.

It was so good she nearly moaned. But she caught herself just in time, pressing her lips together as she glanced at Humza, who was watching her with amusement.

"I didn't know you could cook," she muttered, pretending to be unimpressed as she reached for another bite.

Humza smirked, stepping closer. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he teased.

Anaabiya rolled her eyes but couldn't stop herself from reaching for more.

Humza watched her intently, anticipation flickering in his gaze as she sampled each dish he had prepared. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

Anaabiya swallowed, trying to maintain a neutral expression. "It's... good," she replied, though in truth, it was far beyond good—it was incredible.

But Humza wasn't fooled. A slow, knowing smirk crept onto his face as he shook his head. "Liar," he murmured before stepping closer.

Too close.

Anaabiya's breath hitched as he reached for her hand—the very one she had been eating with. Her pulse raced as he brought it up, his touch firm yet gentle.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he lowered his head and licked her index finger.

Anaabiya froze. Heat flooded her face as his warm tongue swept over her skin, erasing the remnants of the creamy white gravy.

"You're a terrible actress," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. His lips brushed her knuckles as he pulled back slightly, his dark gaze locked onto hers. "You can pretend all you want, but I know exactly what I do to you."

A wave of shivers coursed down her spine as he leaned in again, this time taking her middle finger between his lips. His tongue moved slowly, deliberately, lingering just long enough to send her heart into overdrive.

Anaabiya's entire body tensed. Every nerve ending was on fire.

Humza smirked against her skin before finally releasing her hand, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You taste even better than the food," he murmured, his voice dripping with mischief.

"You're such a flirt!" Anaabiya playfully swatted his chest, but Humza was faster. Before she could pull her hand away, he caught it midair, his grip firm yet gentle as he held it between them.

"I love you." His voice was softer this time, more sincere. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles. Anaabiya's breath hitched, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks burning. Her heart did little flips in her chest, but she willed herself to stay composed.

"Anyway, what did you love the most?" he asked, releasing her hand. She almost frowned at the loss of warmth but kept her expression neutral.

You. She wanted to say. But instead, she cleared her throat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I... uh... I really liked the Machboos," she admitted, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. "My mother used to make it for me. It was my favorite. After she was gone, I had to cook it myself, but... it never tasted the same. So, thank you for making it today. It really means a lot." Her voice softened towards the end, and for the first time, Humza saw a vulnerability in her that he hadn't before.

His expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Without a word, he turned away, walking toward the sink to wash his hands.

Humza remained silent for what felt like two whole minutes, his expression unreadable. Anaabiya shifted on her feet, waiting for him to say something—anything—but he finally exhaled and turned toward the door.

"I just remembered some work. I have to leave now, but I'll be back by the evening," he said, his voice unusually distant. "Eat your breakfast, and be ready by 7 p.m. We have to go to Ahmed's."

She frowned at his abruptness. "Can't you wait until breakfast? Let's have it together," she asked hurriedly, not wanting him to leave like this.

"I can't. It's important." His response was curt, and he didn't even glance back before stepping out.

Anaabiya stared at the door long after it had closed behind him. Was she being too harsh? But then again, he barely tried. One moment he was all over her, and the next, he was pulling away without a word. His mood swings gave her whiplash.

With a heavy sigh, she sat down to have breakfast with the others, though her heart wasn't in it. The rest of the day dragged on, her thoughts constantly drifting back to Humza. He had said he'd return by evening, and sure enough, he did.

But he didn't come back empty-handed.

Maliha handed her a shopping bag, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "This is from Humza. He asked me to give it to you," she said, smiling knowingly before walking away.

Anaabiya hesitated before pulling out the dress inside. It was stunning—a two-piece ensemble in soft shades of pink, adorned with intricate golden sequins near the neckline and three-quarter sleeves. It looked like something straight out of a designer boutique, the kind of dress she had only seen on television.

Her fingers traced the delicate embroidery as a strange warmth settled in her chest. He had chosen this for her.

Later that evening, Anaabiya was putting on the final touches of her outfit when a knock echoed through the room. She hurried to the door and pulled it open, only to be greeted by Humza adjusting his tie.

The grumpiness from earlier had vanished, replaced by a calm, composed demeanor. He looked effortlessly handsome in a rich chocolate-colored tuxedo, the crisp white shirt underneath making him appear even more striking. His gaze swept over her outfit, and after a brief pause, he gave a small nod of approval.

"You ready?" he asked, shoving his hands into his suit pockets. "We should leave now."

Anaabiya hesitated. "I just need to apply some makeup. Can you wait?" Her voice carried a hint of nervousness, unsure of his mood.

Humza's lips curled into a small smile. "Take your time."

Relieved, she turned back toward the mirror, her hands reaching for the cherry red lipstick she had chosen. Just as she lifted it to her lips, her eyes flickered to the reflection in the mirror—and there he was.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, his gaze fixed solely on her.

Her fingers faltered for a split second. She had expected him to wait outside or perhaps glance at his phone in boredom. But no—he was watching her, intently, as if every little movement she made fascinated him.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she forced herself to focus, pretending his piercing gaze didn't send a shiver down her spine.

Anaabiya shifted uncomfortably under Humza's unwavering gaze. Her fingers gripped the lipstick as she tried to focus, but the weight of his stare made it nearly impossible.

"Are you seriously just going to sit there and watch me?" she blurted, her tone half-exasperated, half-nervous.

Humza leaned back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why not? I've always wanted to see how this whole process works. I've seen my mother do it a couple of times, but never had the time—or patience—to watch till the end."

Anaabiya narrowed her eyes at him through the mirror. "Are you comparing me to your mother right now?"

He shrugged. "Just stating facts."

She let out a dramatic sigh, turning back to the mirror. Why was he even here? She needed her sister's help for this, not her husband's curious and far-too-amused eyes on her every move.

Trying to act unfazed, she picked up her lipstick and applied a light coat, then hesitated, darkening it slightly. Then lightened it again. Then darkened it. She had no idea what she was doing anymore. The pressure of his presence made even something as simple as putting on lipstick feel like a life-altering decision.

Through the mirror, she stole a glance at him, expecting him to get bored any second now. But he didn't. He just sat there, arms crossed, watching her like this was the most entertaining thing in the world.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked dryly, her lips twitching.

"Very much," Humza responded without missing a beat. "Honestly, this is better than watching a thriller. So much suspense."

Anaabiya let out a small groan. "You're impossible."

"And you're stalling," he shot back. "At this rate, we might reach Ahmed's house by sunrise."

She turned and threw the nearest thing—her mascara—at him. He dodged it with a laugh, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright. I'll be good." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Carry on, Picasso."

She had been hovering over the eyeliner and eye shadow for a solid five minutes now, her fingers twitching like she was about to perform surgery instead of apply makeup.

"You don't know how to use them, do you?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Anaabiya stiffened. Great. Now he knows I'm useless at this too.

"I do!" she huffed, but her crossed arms and defensive stance said otherwise. "I just... don't know how to apply mascara and eyeliner properly."

Humza chuckled, shaking his head. "What else have you even applied?"

She shot him a glare. "Lipstick."

"That's it?" He raised a brow.

"I put on some blush too," she muttered, as if that somehow redeemed her lack of expertise.

Humza straightened up and walked over, picking up the mascara she had thrown at him earlier and setting it back on the table. Then, to her utter shock, he turned to her with a serious expression.

"Here, let me help you."

Anaabiya blinked at him. Did she hear that right?

"You?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, why not?" He shrugged, reaching for the mascara. "I've seen my mother do it a hundred times. How hard can it be?"

Her skepticism was evident. "Humza, this is makeup, not changing a tire."

"Oh, come on. It can't be that complicated."

She hesitated. "I could just call Nabiha..."

"No, it's fine. I want to do it." He grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much.

Anaabiya eyed him warily. "Okay... Do you at least know how to apply mascara?"

Humza twirled the different make up products between his fingers like a pro, then smirked. "What's a mascara?"

Anaabiya groaned. "Humzaaa!"

He burst into laughter, clearly entertained by her frustration. "Relax, woman. I was joking."

She wasn't convinced. "I swear, if you poke my eye out, I will make sure you regret it."

"Noted." He winked, stepping closer. "Now, sit still and trust me."

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Humza leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, watching Anaabiya struggle with her makeup like a scientist staring at an unsolvable equation. After a long pause, he sighed dramatically.

"Look, I don't know the names of these things," he admitted, rubbing his chin. "Just hand me a product, and I'll tell you if I know how to use it."

Anaabiya narrowed her eyes but, against her better judgment, picked up the mascara and placed it in his hand.

Humza examined it with deep concentration, turning it over like it held the secrets of the universe. After a moment, his face lit up. "Aha! This one goes on the eyelashes! I've got this."

He twisted the cap off with too much enthusiasm, nearly flinging the wand across the room.

Anaabiya winced. "Humza, I am trusting you with my makeup. Do not mess up my face."

He scoffed. "Relax, Joonam. I've got this."

The affectionate nickname made her blush, but she didn't have time to dwell on it because, in the next second, he was making her sit on the bed. He positioned himself in front of her, leaning in with all the confidence of a professional makeup artist.

Then, abruptly, he stopped.

Anaabiya frowned. "What now?"

Without a word, Humza handed her the mascara and, to her utter confusion, started shrugging off his tuxedo jacket.

She blinked. "Uhh... What are you doing?"

He draped the jacket neatly over a chair, then rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt with slow, precise movements, as if preparing for battle.

Anaabiya gawked at him. "Is this... necessary?"

He flexed his fingers. "Of course. This is delicate work. I need full mobility."

She snorted. "It's mascara, not open-heart surgery."

Humza ignored her, now rolling his other sleeve with great determination. "A man's got to be prepared."

Anaabiya shook her head, already regretting her life choices. This is either going to be a disaster or the funniest thing I'll ever witness.

"Now, give it to me," Humza said confidently, holding out his hand.

Anaabiya hesitated for a second before placing the mascara wand in his grasp. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing when he shifted his position, placing one knee on the bed beside her. He leaned in with the kind of intense focus one would expect from a surgeon performing a life-saving operation.

Her amusement only grew when he carefully instructed her, "Look up... now down... no, not that much—there, perfect."

He moved with slow, deliberate strokes, gently lifting her lashes with the wand. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, and—oh no—his mouth fell slightly open as he worked, as if he were somehow moving the wand with his own expression.

Anaabiya wanted to burst into laughter, but she had to remind herself—one wrong move, and she'd be walking into Ahmed's house looking like a raccoon.

Still, watching Humza, a man so effortlessly composed in every other situation, apply mascara with the utmost seriousness was possibly the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed.

"Wooow! I can't believe this—Humza, you've got makeup skills too?" Huzaifa's voice rang through the room, filled with pure amusement.

Humza immediately straightened, his hand freezing mid-air as if he'd been caught committing a crime. A light flush dusted his cheeks, and he shot Huzaifa a deadly glare, but that only made it worse. Nabiha, standing beside Huzaifa, had her hands clamped over her mouth, barely holding in her laughter.

"I was just... helping," Humza said, rolling his shoulders back as if mascara application was the most dignified thing a man could do.

"Helping? Or auditioning for a beauty influencer gig?" Huzaifa teased, smirking. "Let me guess, next you'll be trying contouring?"

Humza huffed, thrusting the mascara into Nabiha's hands. "Here. Since everyone finds this so entertaining, you do it."

Nabiha grinned as she took over, and Humza wasted no time rolling down his sleeves and slipping back into his jacket. With a final glance at Anaabiya, he smirked. "I'll be waiting downstairs." But as he passed Huzaifa, he deliberately bumped his shoulder against him, making Huzaifa stagger slightly.

"Damn, bro, no need to get violent. Just admit you enjoyed it," Huzaifa laughed, rubbing his shoulder. He then turned to Anaabiya with a knowing grin. "You do realize you make him do the most ridiculous things, right?"

Anaabiya, feeling the heat creep up her neck, looked away, trying to focus on anything other than the growing smirk on Huzaifa's face.

"Huzaifaaaaa," Humza's warning voice echoed from the corridor, his tone carrying an unspoken threat.

Huzaifa only chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Apparently, your husband isn't the same with everyone," he teased before strolling out, leaving Anaabiya and Nabiha behind.

As soon as he was gone, Nabiha turned to Anaabiya with wide eyes, barely holding back her laughter. "Did you actually make him do that?" she asked, grabbing a brush and dabbing it into a compact before applying it to Anaabiya's face.

Anaabiya smirked. "He offered."

Nabiha snorted. "Well, even if it was just one eye, I have to admit—he did a decent job."

"At least he's better than me," Anaabiya laughed, shaking her head.

Her heart felt lighter, her mind replaying the scene over and over again. How could she not forgive him?

Until then, vote and comment lovely people 😘

E D I T E D on 11.3.2025