Chapter : 60 - Blushes And Black Suits.

Around 10 o'clock, I stood outside the door, holding flowers for Ammi, ringing the doorbell, and waiting for someone to open it. Exactly one minute later, when the door opened, the most disliked face appeared before me.

"Sorry, sir, wrong house. Go to the next one," this man insulted me within seconds. No doubt, it was my younger brother.

"Haris!" I exclaimed through gritted teeth, determined not to let him ruin my beautiful day.

"Not even a greeting or anything?" I remarked sarcastically, keeping my tone polite yet laced with sarcasm.

"Ahhh, looks like today is going to be fun. Let me grab some popcorn first; this will be full-on family drama," he said, his face showing no trace of shame.

Haris, my younger brother, may look innocent, but he's the exact opposite in every way. He's a couple of years younger than me, but his knack for drama makes up for the age difference. Officially, he's a lawyer, just in name.

"May I come in?" My voice was firm, but my expression remained calm.

"Of course, if you don't come in, how will the drama start? Please, come inside," he said with a mischievous smile and started calling out for Ammi and Abbu.

"Your long-lost son has returned, Ammi," he teased, clearly trying to annoy me, while I struggled to keep my blood pressure in check. If it hadn't been about Ammi, I would have made sure this troublemaker never saw another day. The universe gave me a sworn enemy in the name of a brother.

As I entered the house, an inexplicable happiness washed over me. The entire house was designed according to Ammi's taste, and for the first time, I paid attention to the house itself. The decor was done in shades of white, which surprised me.

Until recently, white was just an ordinary color to me, but since last night, it has somehow settled in my mind. Now, I seem to like everything that's white.

"Finally found your way home? I thought you'd come straight after getting married so we could meet our daughter-in-law!" Ammi started taunting me as she adjusted her cream shawl, walking towards me. And they say I'm the dramatic one-look at them!

"Salma, come on now. He just got here. Let him rest for a while," Abbu finally came to my defense, and I couldn't help but feel good that he was on my side for once.

"Yusuf, stop taking his side. He came back to Paris two days ago and is only coming home now," Ammi said, visibly upset. Without wasting any time, I picked up the bouquet of white roses from the table and extended it toward her.

"I'm not going to forgive you that easily," she said, turning her face away. I couldn't suppress my smile and quickly looked down to avoid making it worse.

"Look at him, Yusuf. He knows I'm angry, but instead of apologizing properly, he just lowers his eyes and starts smiling. And look at how shameless he is, laughing like this," Ammi complained to Abbu, lightly hitting my shoulder.

"Ammi jaan, please forgive me," I said, lifting my gaze and putting on my most innocent face, hoping it would melt Salma Farsi's heart. She had to forgive me, or how else would I talk to her about Sahara?

"Did you have breakfast?" Ammi asked firmly.

"No," I replied.

"Have breakfast first, then I'll listen to you," she said. I couldn't tell who was more shocked-me or them. I had come to shock them, but it seemed Ammi had already read my mind. Did she somehow know I was here with a purpose?

After breakfast, I was seated on the couch in the hall, with Ammi, Abbu, and Haris sitting across from me. Haris, wearing a loose green shirt and track pants, was holding a bowl of popcorn, as if waiting for the episode to begin. The surroundings only added to my anxiety-half-open windows letting in a chilly breeze that made me shiver.

I sat with my gaze lowered, feeling nervous and confused about how to explain that I was in love and wanted to marry the person I loved.

"Speak," Abbu said calmly.

"I love someone," I said without wasting a second, putting my truth before them.

"This was the only thing left to see!" My mom started with her dramatic lines, typical Asian moms.

"Bhai, do you need some popcorn?" Yaah Allah, help me keep my blood pressure in check today because I swear I'm going to kill Haris. He was sitting there with that mischievous grin on his face, adding fuel to the fire.

"What's her name?" Dad, being more sensible than the other two, asked.

"Sahara," I said, lowering my gaze, because even mentioning her name makes my breath hitch.

"Naam, suna suna sa lagh raha hai," Ammi said thoughtfully. If she knew whose name it was, I'd be in deep trouble.

(The name sounds familiar).

"Of course, it sounds familiar, Ammi. It's bhai's brand name afterall," Haris chimed in, smirking. Oh, Allah, just one murder-please allow me one murder so I can send this shameless man back to You.

"Why are you adding fuel to the fire?" I gritted my teeth and asked Haris.

"Because it's fun," he said, laughing while popping more popcorn into his mouth.

"Sahara, huh? So, this is the girl because of whom you haven't agreed to get married yet?" Ammi asked in a tone filled with taunts. Every time she showed me a picture of a girl, I would close my eyes. Why bother looking when no one would compare to Sahara anyway?

"If we don't agree, you'll probably run away and marry her-"

"Aap dono ki ijazat seh, usse Nikkah karna chahata hoon, Ammi," I interrupted, my tone soft but my words direct.

(With your permission, I want to marry her, Ammi).

"Maine usse wada kiya hai ki pure maan aur izzat seh usse nikkah karunga, aur uske liye mujhe aap dono ki raza mandi chahiye," I said as I walked over to Ammi, knelt down, and held her hand, pleading earnestly.

(I promised her that I would marry her with full respect and dignity. For that, I need your approval).

"Do you love her that much?" Ammi asked.

"Mai, uski bahut izzat karta hoon, Ammi, woh pehli aurat hai jisne mujhe darna sikhaya, jab woh meri zindagi seh gayi thi na Ammi, aisa laga ki woh meri zindagi apne saath leke jaa rahi hai, aur jab woh wapas aayi toh aisa laga jaise mujhe wapas zindagi mil gayi ho," I said, pouring out my heart. I wasn't making a promise or pleading anymore-I was just sharing my feelings so they could understand that without Sahara Reza, I'm nothing.

(I respect her a lot, Mom. She's the first woman who taught me what it means to feel fear. When she left my life, it felt like she took my entire existence with her. And when she returned, it was as if I'd been given a second chance at life).

"You're crying for a woman in front of us? You were never like this, Samir," Ammi said, touching my face.

Only then did I realize I had tears streaming down my face.

"Usne, mujhe aisa bana diya hai, Ammi," I said with a small smile.

(She's made me this way, Ammi).

"What's her full name?" Ammi asked, gently caressing my cheek.

"Sahara Reza," I said, and the happiness vanished from both Ammi and Abbu's faces.

"Hassan Reza's daughter?" Abbu asked to confirm.

"Yes," I nodded.

"You won't let us live in peace, will you, Samir? Of all people, you had to fall for Hassan's daughter?" Abbu said, standing up, his tone filled with disapproval.

"You don't need to worry, Abbu. I want his daughter, not him," I said as I stood up.

"This isn't the time for jokes, Samir," Abbu said sternly.

"I'm not joking, Abbu," I replied in a calmer tone.

"Do you think Hassan will ever agree to give his daughter to you?" Abbu asked with full confidence.

"He'll have to," I replied with equal confidence.

"How? You're talking about a love marriage, and Hassan will never agree to it," Abbu said, as though admitting defeat. But I wasn't ready to give up, not when there's no chance I'd let fear of Hassan Reza make me give up on Sahara.

"Love marriage kon kar raha hai, Abbu?" It was time to turn the tables. Ammi, Abbu, and Haris all looked at me, being completely stunned.

(Who said it's a love marriage, Abbu?)

"Then what is it?" Haris asked.

"We'll convert this love marriage into an arranged one. We won't approach Hassan Reza directly; instead, we'll use a marriage broker," I explained my plan.

"And how will that work?" Dad was curious now.

"I've been keeping an eye on Hassan Reza for a few days. He hired a broker for Sahara, and I've already bought that broker. That broker will present my proposal to Hassan Reza," I said, crossing my legs as I sat down, confident in my first move.

"This is illegal, Samir," Haris, the shameless lawyer, finally spoke.

I might look innocent, but when it comes to Sahara, I'm an incredibly selfish man. I'll cross any line to have her now.

"If it's illegal, then file a case on your own father first," I added, shutting him up completely. Abbu glared at me, while Ammi turned her glare on him.

"Yusuf?" Ammi's voice was sharp as she addressed Abbu with firmness, who stood frozen. Now it was my turn to sit back and enjoy the drama.

"What could I do, Salma? Your father wouldn't agree, so I did what I thought was right at the time," Abbu began justifying himself while I sat back, thoroughly enjoying the show.

"You're very shameless, bhai," Haris said, sitting beside me and offering me popcorn.

"Sahara says the same thing," I said, smirking as I grabbed some popcorn, watching Ammi and Abbu argue, and thoroughly enjoying the chaos I had created.

Exactly at 7:00 pm, I stood outside the cafe, waiting for my farsi to arrive so I could see him. Ahh, why are my cheeks blushing just at the thought of meeting him?

"Sahara, control yourself," I scolded myself while the weather wasn't helping my situation at all. Plus, my clothes weren't warm enough for this cold. I was dressed in black cargo pants, a black crop top, a long sweater that covered me up to my shoes, and a thick embroidered scarf wrapped around my neck. My hair was tied in a messy bun because I couldn't handle two troubles at once.

I had just had a cup of coffee with my colleagues, but the urge to drink it again crept in. However, the thought of having it with Samir stopped me from stepping inside. He said he was on his way, but there was still no sign of him. Before I froze in the cold, I decided to call him again. He picked up on the first ring, and even this small gesture from him made my already warm cheeks burn.

"Are you planning to come after I freeze to death, Samir?" I burst out as soon as he said hello.

"I'll be there in a few seconds, rose," he said sweetly. Wait, rose? Not another new nickname! I'm already struggling to handle him calling me mohtarma and jaan, and now he's decided to melt me in every possible way. He was clearly making up for being late with these nicknames.

"I don't melt easily, Farsi," I lied.

"Now?" he teased. I didn't get him, but before I could respond to him, a dangerous-looking black bike zoomed past me, and the rider glanced in my direction. I won't lie-he looked hot in his black suit, even with his helmet on. If this guy were my Samir, I'd probably be a blushing mess by now. But thankfully, he wasn't, because my Samir would look even more handsome riding a bike.

I ignored the biker and asked Samir where he was. He didn't respond, but to my irritation, the biker came back, stopping his bike right in front of me. He was lucky Samir wasn't here; otherwise, I doubt he'd live to see another day.

Frustrated, I got ready to throw a punch at the creep when he removed his helmet. My hand froze mid-air as I stared at the face underneath.

"Samir farsi! It's you!"

I smashed his shoulder with my bag.

"Ouch, that hurts! By the way enjoyed the view, Jaan," he asked with a pure smirk playing on his beautiful face, while rubbing his shoulder and removing the earpods from his ears.

This man can never be serious, nor does he have an ounce of shame in him.

"I think I need to rethink my decision," I exclaimed angrily.

"No chance, mohtarma, remember-once it's a no, it's a no, and once it's a yes, it's a yes. No changing!" Samir said hurriedly as he got off the bike.

Instead of responding to his nonsense, I found myself lost in him. So it's him-he's the hot biker! I was trying my best not to let my cheeks burn in front of him, but the more I looked at him, the more my stomach twisted into knots.

Black suit, messy black hair, black eyes, black bike, black helmet-everything about him was black, yet his beautifully radiant face stood out the most. And it wasn't just his looks; his actions were equally captivating. He smoothed back his messy black hair so effortlessly that I felt an overwhelming urge to ruffle it myself.

As he did that, something on his wrist caught my attention. He was wearing the watch I had gifted him. Seeing it on him made me blush even harder.

"The weather isn't helping, and now with you blushing like that, I can't guarantee the safety of my poor heart. It might fail, jaan," he said, using that word for the nth time to address me, making my heart skip a beat.

I should say the same to him. Even my heart is poor-it can't handle this beautiful creature in front of me.

"Weren't you in a car earlier? Then how did you end up on a bike?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"I was racing with my brother, so..." Samir stopped mid-sentence, ruffling his hair.

And I wanted to tell him, 'Samir, isn't it enough that I'm already staring at you like this? Do you also have to drive me crazy with your hair?' But, unfortunately, I couldn't say that to him. I had to act strict with him, but it seemed like he came prepared to melt me. His next words left me utterly speechless.

"You like bikers, right, Sahara? That's why I made a small effort," he said.

This man is not good for me-how can someone change so much for another person?

"You're crazy, Samir," I said, trying to move past the topic.

"Just crazy?" he teased.

"Handsome too," I murmured softly.

"That I already am," he said with a wink and a grin.

"So, where are we going now? And are we going on the bike?" I asked, now serious because my stomach had already started growling. Plus, going with Samir on a bike?-----

"We're going in my car." Before I could think any further, Samir's reply left me even more confused.

"Car? Where is it?" I asked, looking around.

"When you told me you were at this cafe, I sent my driver to park it nearby so that I could take you in the car when I arrived," he explained, taking off his gloves.

"Meri aarzu hai ki mai tumhe bike mein ride dooh, magar is waqt mai tumhare liye namehraam hoon, Sahara. Mai meri har aarzu halaal tarike seh puri karna chahata hoon, is waqt tumhara haath pakadne ki bhi ijazat nahi hai mere paas, bas tumse Nikkah hojai, Jaan, ek pal ke liye bhi tumse juda nahi hoonga," He said this with such ease and sincerity that it left me deep in thought.

(It's my dream to take you on a bike ride, but for now, I'm still a stranger to you, Sahara. I want to fulfill all my dreams in a pure way. Right now, I don't even have permission to hold your hand. But once we're married, jaan, I won't ever let you go, not even for a moment).

Who is this man? This is not the boy I once loved. This is a pure man who loves me with pure intentions. I never imagined he would talk about halal and purity like this. Does he love me so much that he's even afraid to touch me as a stranger?

What have I done? How much have I made him suffer? Why didn't I notice the pain in his eyes? Why did I ignore his tears? Why?

"Sahara?" he called me lovingly.

"Yes, Samir," I responded with the same affection.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"Yes," I said with a smile.

At exactly 9 PM, we were sitting at a small open-air restaurant in Paris, surrounded by decorative trees and lights. People were laughing, smiling, and enjoying themselves with their friends and family. Samir, on the other hand, rested his chin on both hands, gazing at me without blinking.

"Sahara, mai soch raha hoon ki aur ghaur seh padh lun" His sudden words forced me to look at him.

"Kya?" I asked curiously.

"Tumhari aankhein," he replied, and that was enough for my cheeks to betray in such a way that this shameless features began to burn.

"Toh, padhlo," I said trying to act confident, resting my chin on my hand just like him. And that shameless man began blushing.

(Then go ahead and stare).

The more he teased, the more adorable he looked. But even when he blushed, he looked like a perfect model.

"Are you blushing, Samir?" I teased him.

"No!" he said, trying to avoid my gaze, but the more he tried, the more his cheeks gave him away.

"Here, take this," Samir said, regaining his composure and pulling out a white envelope from his suit, placing it in front of me.

"What's this?" I asked curiously, picking it up.

"Return tickets to India. You're leaving tomorrow morning," he said casually while sipping water.

"So soon?" I asked, a bit disappointed because I wanted to spend more time with him.

"Yes, my jaan, so that I can come to ask for your hand in marriage," he said.

His words first surprised me, and then my stomach began to flip with excitement.

"W-What?" I stammered.

"My parents have agreed, Sahara. Now I just need to convince your father," Samir said with hope, and I trusted him completely.

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