Chapter : 62 - A Knock At The Gate

It was a beautiful morning. I checked the time-it was 8 AM-and I was still in Aziz's arms. He had both his hands encircled around my waist, sleeping peacefully. I snuggled closer to him. Even while sleeping, my husband looked incredibly handsome.

My gaze then shifted to his men's vest, which was hiding his abs from me. I felt a bit shy, but then I reminded myself-I am his wife. I have every right to admire his abs. A slight blush crept onto my face again before I looked at his breathtaking features.

His beard had grown a little, though he usually kept it light. His dark black hair, MashaAllah, had grown longer, and I loved his hair just as much as I loved him. His deep blue eyes were closed, and I was grateful for that-because if they were open, I wouldn't have been able to look at him. Every time I see him, my heart loses control.

I moved a bit closer and kissed his cheek, then his beard. The moment my lips touched his beard, his rough hair tickled me. Slowly, I caressed his face with my hands, ruffled his hair, and finally kissed his hair too. As I kissed his hair, a few strands of mine fell over his face. I gently tucked them away and continued watching him sleep, running my fingers through his hair.

Maine kabhi nahi socha tha ki mard ki mohabbat itni khubsurat hoti hai.

Itni ki, sirf uski mohabbat ke liye, aurat, zindagi bhar uski wafadaar banke reh jaati hai.

(I never imagined that a man's love could be so beautiful-so deep that it makes a woman devoted to him for a lifetime).

Pouring my heart out to him, I leaned in to kiss his closed eyelids. But before I could, Aziz pulled me on top of him with his strong hands.

"Why do you keep forgetting, sweetheart, that I have lips too? Or is there a problem with kissing there?"

Aziz spoke in his deep, sleepy voice without any hesitation. And then, he opened his intoxicating eyes.

For a moment, I lost myself in his eyes. He didn't even blink for a second and just kept staring at me, while I, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with a million emotions just from his gaze.

"You know what? Let me do it myself, Sweetheart" Aziz said instantly and pushed me onto the bed. I was completely stunned by his bold moves so early in the morning.

"Time doesn't matter to you at all, does it?" I taunted him. But this shameless man, instead of listening to me, started caressing my hair and inhaling its scent. One of his hands was tangled in my hair, while the other remained tightly wrapped around my waist. And the craziest part? He hasn't let go of my waist since this morning.

Can he not sleep without touching me? I wondered at his absurd actions.

"I really love your black, slightly wavy hair, Uns," Aziz murmured, closing his eyes as he placed a soft kiss on my neck.

I don't understand one thing about my Shah Jahan-he aims one way but hits another. Complimenting my hair but kissing my neck!

"Accha, Suno..." I spoke in a soft voice.

Aziz, who had been mercilessly teasing my neck, slowly lifted his deep blue eyes. And just like that, my voice disappeared. His eyes were dangerously captivating-were these the same eyes I had fallen in love with? Or rather, the ones I am still in love with?

Bas, uski ek nazarn kaafi hai logon ko maarne ke liye.

(Just one look from him is enough to leave people breathless).

"Farmaayea, Begum?" he asked in his deep voice, not even blinking as his fingers played with my hair.

"Shall we go shopping in the evening? I needed to buy something..." I barely managed to say, unable to raise my voice. Just one glance from him had weakened me.

"Alright, Sweetheart. Which store do you want to go to?" Aziz asked, moving away from my neck and pressing his lips against my cheek instead, I could hear his breathing which was only making it difficult for me to talk.

"Not a store... Let's go to the marketplace," I replied.

Aziz lifted his gaze, looking at me with an unreadable expression. For a few seconds, he stayed silent, then suddenly, a soft smile appeared on his lips. At that moment, with his messy long hair and that faint smile, he was making it hard for me to even breathe properly.

"Marketplace? Why?" Aziz asked, keeping his intense gaze fixed on me.

"I just want to relive those beautiful moments with you," I said, encircling my arms around his neck and pulling him closer, my eyes unwavering.

"Mai, tumhe tab bhi accha lagta tha, Uns?" he suddenly asked, and in an instant, all the memories I had shared with him came rushing back.

(Did you like me back then, too?)

"Mujhse zyada toh tum, Ammi ko acche laghte the, Aziz," I teased him, as a sudden urge to irritate him took over me.

(You know, Ammi liked you more than I did).

"What?" Aziz looked surprised.

"You took such good care of me that Ammi once suggested I should make you my brother," I added with a playful smirk, watching as the smile on his face completely vanished.

"Did Ammi say that, or was it YOU, sweetheart?" His nose was now touching mine, and his voice had suddenly deepened.

"You actually heard that?" I was surprised that he had not only listened to everything I said but also remembered it all.

"Yes," Aziz replied, tightening his grip around my waist. He seemed... A bit angry?

Before I could say anything, he pulled away, got up from the bed, and walked straight to the wardrobe without looking at me.

"What's wrong with you now?" I asked, getting up and walking toward him.

"Nothing," he said, his tone unusually cold. For the first time, his voice actually hurt me.

"Are you upset because I thought of calling you bhai?" I asked innocently, standing in front of him and gently caressing his chin.

"Who wouldn't be upset, Uns?" he muttered, still ignoring me as he focused on his clothes.

"You're overreacting, Aziz," I said, watching his childish behavior. Now, even my mood was ruined.

"Fine," he muttered before heading to the washroom and slamming the door shut. I stood there, confused. Was this really something to get upset about?

"Uns, just leave my towel outside," his voice came from inside.

Fine. Maybe I shouldn't have called him bhai, but what's the big deal?

But what's wrong with him addressing me as, Uns, suddenly? He calls me sweetheart all the time. Would it really hurt him to say it once more? I was already too used to hearing that word from his lips.

I placed his towel on the dressing table and started folding the blankets. A few minutes later, he stepped out of the washroom room, and in that instant, my entire focus shifted to him.

With Dripping wet hair this man walked, his sharp gaze was locked onto me, still carrying the weight of his unspoken anger. Water droplets slid down his cheek, disappearing into his beard. His intense eyes made it clear-he was still upset.

The black trousers were fine, but that black vest? That was a problem. It clung to him, making every defined outline of his body visible.

Aur use mujhpe itna sa bhi rehem nahi aaya?

(And he had not even a shred of mercy on me?)

That, he walked past me without a second glance, grabbed the towel from the dressing table, and began drying his damp, long hair.

Aur yahan mujhe kariban doh minute, apne aap ko sambhal ne ke liye lage.

(And here, I needed at least two minutes to regain my composure).

Alright, Shah Jahan, if you want to play the ignorance game, so be it!

With determined steps, I marched to the wardrobe, yanked it open, and pulled out a deep red dress embroidered with black roses on the sleeves. Slamming the wardrobe shut, I turned to look at him, expecting at least a reaction. But not even a glance in my direction.

That only fueled my irritation further.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I went to freshen up.

A few minutes later, as I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my wet hair, my eyes landed on Aziz sitting on the chair, shaving-while watching me. His gaze froze on me, and a strange satisfaction washed over me, knowing he couldn't stay mad at me for long.

Smiling, I walked toward him.

Just then, his phone rang.

Aziz finally shifted his gaze to the screen, glancing between me and the incoming call. Then, in a sudden shift, his voice deepened as he spoke.

"Keep all the documents ready, Zehmat. I'll try to come as soon as possible," Aziz was speaking to his secretary.

So that meant he'd be busy today?

"I'll have breakfast at the office as well," his next sentence forced me to turn toward him.

"I won't let you leave without having breakfast," I said firmly, picking up a comb from the table and giving him a pointed look.

He ended the call and stared at me with surprise.

"I don't take orders from anyone," he said, looking at me through the mirror, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"When did I give you an order? I was just saying it with love," I replied, standing behind him and meeting his gaze in the mirror while combing my hair.

"This is your way of showing love, Sweetheart?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Any doubt, Shahjahan?" I raised my eyebrows.

And in the next moment, before I could react, Aziz grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his lap.

He moved so fast that my lips accidentally brushed against his nose, while my hands instinctively wrapped around his neck.

"Not the nose, sweetheart-the lips," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin, his mischievous smile sending a shiver through me.

The moment realization hit, I tried to get up, but his strong arms tightened around my waist, making any attempt to escape completely futile.

"If you're mad, then stay mad. Why are you doing all this?" I asked, still struggling.

"I'm still mad," Aziz chuckled lightly.

"This is your way of being upset, Aziz?" I asked him, my voice filled with sarcasm.

"Any doubt, Sweetheart?" His expression was anything but innocent.

"So, what should Uns do to make her Shah Jahan feel better?" I asked with a teasing smile.

"Shave my beard," he said, leaving me completely speechless.

"Umm.... Actually--"

"No, is not even an option here, Sweetheart" He pulled me even closer, and I couldn't do anything but blush at the way I was feeling. It was as if I wanted to bury my face in his chest out of sheer shyness.

"Tamatar, I'm getting late," he teased, and in that second, all my shyness vanished.

"Don't blame me if I cut your jaw by mistake," I warned, but in response, he only smiled wider.

"Just trim it lightly, don't shave it all," he instructed like a customer, as if I'd actually listen to him.

I started carefully, but the moment he began caressing my waist, I lost focus.

"Aziz!" I shot him a glare.

"Focus, sweetheart," he murmured mischievously, his hands sliding from my waist up to my earlobe.

He expects me to focus when he is the very reason I am getting distracted!

I had only finished the right side when he pulled me even closer, pressing my entire body against his chest.

I can't understand what type of romance is it? I am literally sitting on my husband's smooth thighs, being so close to him and shaving his beard, and I tried my best to avoid meeting his blue eyes, because there is no doubt I'd actually loose focus and cut his skin.

There was no way I was doing his shave next time-I couldn't keep turning into a blushing tamatar because of his antics.

"I'm getting late, sweetheart," he smirked again.

"Bhegairat," I muttered under my breath and continued shaving the left side. Once I was done, I wiped his face with a towel.

"Done?" he asked.

"Are you still upset with me?" After placing the towel aside, I gave him my best puppy eyes.

"You can't use your weapons to weaken me, begum," Aziz sighed, pure complaint visible in his eyes.

"Shah Jahan," it was time to use another weapon.

"Don't. I can't melt so easily," he warned, yet instead of letting me go, Shah Jahan pulled me even closer-closing the last bit of distance between us.

His large hands cupped my face, bringing his breathtaking features just inches from my lips. I could feel his warm breath against mine lips, and at the same time, he was feeling my breath against his lips.

For some reason, this feeling stirred something deep inside me-something that even a kiss couldn't match.

It felt precious.

And instead of capturing my lips, Shah Jahan chose to kiss my neck again.

He moved slowly, brushing his lips against my skin, and the instant I felt his touch, my hands instinctively wrapped around his back.

"I'm still upset," he murmured deeply, his lips resting against my collarbone.

"Doesn't seem like it," I teased him softly.

Aziz lifted his gaze indifferently, but then, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"I want to stay mad at you, but your smile is making it impossible, Uns," he said in his deep voice.

I was just beginning to process his words when he tilted his face up, brushing his lips against mine.

He was so close that my heart started pounding wildly. I was still sitting in his lap, his hands resting on my waist. And for some reason, I felt that if he moved his hands away, I would feel empty-like a part of me was being taken away.

Uska chehra, Mera sukoon tha.

Ek mukammal sukoon joh mujhe is dunya mein mila hai.

Uski gehri nazre joh humesha mujhpe tiki rehti hai.

Woh bewajah ki tavajju joh woh har waqt mujhe deta hai.

Aur uska wajud joh humesha mere aas paas rehta hai.

Mai tumse yeh kaise kahu Aziz, ki mai tumhari addi ho chuki hoon.

Aur tumhari, yeah bewajah ki narazgi ki bhi aadi ho chuki hoon.

(His presence was my peace.

A complete sense of tranquility that I had found in this world.

The way his deep blue eyes always lingered on me, the constant attention he gave me for no reason, and his very existence that always surrounded me.

Aziz, how do I tell you that I've become addicted to you.

And even to your meaningless little tantrums).

"You complete me, sweetheart," his voice suddenly echoed in my ears.

When I opened my eyes, I found Aziz staring at me, his gaze filled with love, pulling me deeper into its depths.

For two whole minutes, there was complete silence. Neither of us spoke. It felt like our eyes were having a conversation with each other.

Even today, my breath catches whenever I look into his blue eyes.

I wonder how he feels when he looks at me?

I was lost in his gaze when his eyes fell on my lips. He leaned in, and as soon as I closed my eyes, I felt his soft lips press against mine.

A couple of minutes later, he pulled away and, wrapping his arms around me, effortlessly lifted me in a bridal style.

"What are you doing?" I asked, startled by his sudden movement.

"Loving you, Tamatar," Aziz smirked and winked as he carried me toward the bed.

First, he shouldn't be smiling like that. And second, he annoys me so much!

"Tamatar?" I asked sternly.

Woh muskuraya.

"My cute tamatar... no, no, my angry little red tamatar," he teased, grinning.

Instead of getting mad, I felt shy and buried my face in his chest.

He carefully placed me on the bed, leaned down, kissed my forehead, and said, "I'll get ready, and then we'll go downstairs for breakfast, okay?"

I nodded, and he started getting dressed.

After Aziz finished getting ready, he took my hand, and we started walking down the stairs. But my eyes were fixed on his hand-which weren't ready to leave mine.

He was two steps ahead of me, while I was two steps behind. Every now and then, he would turn around, smile, and then look forward again.

This man had loved me more than my own father ever had.

After greeting Ammi and Abbu, we sat down at the dining table.

Tamir wasn't there; for the past few days, he had been having breakfast outside-probably busy understanding Ezzeh's mood swings. Samir was still in Paris, while Sahara had just returned to India yesterday.

While Abbu and Aziz were talking, Aziz placed a piece of bread on my plate. Before I could reach for the curry, he had already started filling my plate.

Even as he discussed business with Abbu, he kept making sure my plate was full.

Uski bas itni sih fikr dekh ke mere dil mein kuch hua tha, koi dard yaad aaya tha aur uski tavajju marham ki tarah kaam kar rahi thi.

Aziz neh khana khatam Karliya tha, magar chair seh utha nahi, khamoshi seh apna phone check karne laga, aur jab maine aakhri niwala khatam kiya, maine use uth te dekha.

(Seeing this small gesture of his stirred something deep within me-something painful. A memory of hurt surfaced, but his actions felt like a soothing balm over it.

Aziz finished eating, but instead of getting up, he silently checked his phone. I finished my last bite and watched as he finally stood up).

"I'll be back," he said, picking up his office bag and heading toward the door. But then he paused, turned slightly, and looked at me.

"Uns, can you bring me my wallet, please?" He gestured toward it on the table before stepping outside.

I grabbed his wallet and stepped outside, finding him leaning against his Porsche.

As I approached, he took my hand and pulled me close. Both of his arms wrapped around my waist as he caressed my cheek. Bending down slightly, he pressed a soft kiss on my forehead.

"I have a very important meeting today. I might be late coming home. Until then, take care of yourself, eat on time, and keep calling me," he started listing instructions one after another.

"Are you giving me orders?" I teased, grabbing his coat and pulling him slightly close.

"I'm requesting you... Please take care of yourself, Begum" he said, taking a deep breath. I kissed his eyes gently.

"You too," I whispered softly.

"As you say, sweetheart," he murmured before kissing my lips, making my cheeks flush red with shyness.

His gestures always had this effect on me.

But the truth was, I loved them.

"Allah Hafiz," he said reluctantly, as if he didn't want to leave.

"Khuda Hafiz, Shahjahan. Drive safe," I reminded him as he finally opened the car door.

"Alright," he sighed, but suddenly, his mood seemed to shift.

"Aziz," I tapped on his car window, and he rolled it down. Leaning in, I placed my hands on his neck and kissed his Adam's apple.

He looked shocked for a moment, then smiled.

And that smile... it made my heart stop.

"Maar daalogi ek din tum, mujhe, sweetheart," he chuckled helplessly before starting his car and driving away.

(You're going to be the death of me one day, sweetheart).

The bright sunlight woke me up. With my eyes still half-open, I checked the time-it was already 2 in the afternoon.

It's been two days since I came back from Paris. Still being in my loose cream night suit, with my hair tied up in a messy bun, I grabbed my phone and headed toward the kitchen. Suddenly, I felt hungry.

I put the milk on the stove to boil for coffee and started checking my phone. Samir had seen my message, but why hadn't he replied?

Maybe he fell asleep, I reassured myself and focused on making my coffee. Just then, my phone rang-it was Samir.

As I frothed the milk into my cup, I answered the call. His energetic voice instantly brought a smile to my face.

"Assalamualaikum!" he greeted me cheerfully from the other end.

"Walaikum assalam. You sound happy today?" I asked teasingly.

"As long as you're in my life, you'll always see me happy, jaan."

And there it was-his first cheesy line of the day. He literally doesn't think before speaking. I have no idea how he manages his brand with such seriousness.

"Starting so early in the morning?" I scolded him.

"Morning? It's already afternoon, madam," he reminded me.

"Yeah, whatever," I replied carelessly.

"What are you doing?" Samir asked with interest.

"Making coffee," I said, lifting my cup.

"Great. Do me a favor and make twelve more cups of tea or coffee," he said casually, as if it was a normal request.

"Why? What's the occasion?" I asked, surprisingly not annoyed.

"Kyunki mai is waqt tumahre gate ke paas hoon, agar tum ijazat doh toh mai andar aa sakhta hoon, tumhara haath maangne ke liye?" His serious tone made my cup almost slip from my hands.

(Because I'm standing at your gate right now. If you permit me, I'd like to come inside... to ask for your hand in marriage).

"What?!" I couldn't believe what I had just heard.

"Are you serious?" I was still in shock.

"Yes, Check for yourself from the kitchen window," he said.

I quickly moved to the window and saw four or five black Mercedes entering through the gate. Then came Aziz Bhai's black Porsche.

A group of servants were carrying what looked like shagun. Then, from the third car, Samir stepped out of the driver's seat-dressed in a black Armani suit, formal pants, and his thick, well-styled hair. He adjusted the watch on his wrist, with ear pods in his ears.

"How do I look?" I heard his voice through the phone as he turned slightly toward me.

"You're crazy, Samir! Why didn't you inform me beforehand?" My anger was at its peak.

"Because I wanted to surprise you, Mohtarma" he replied casually.

"I feel like throwing my coffee on your handsome face right now!" I snapped, but he just laughed.

From the fourth car, his parents stepped out, followed by Khalid Uncle's family from the fifth. Meanwhile, Aziz Bhai got out of the Porsche, walked to Uns Appi's side, opened her door, and held her hand.

Everyone started walking toward the entrance.

I panicked and turned to leave, wanting to hide in my room. But as soon as I stepped outside, I noticed my house was decorated too.

So... everyone knew Samir was coming today-except for me?!

I was already looking like a mess, and now, before I could even step out of the kitchen, people started entering the house.

Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen... plotting Samir's murder.

"Samir!!!" I tried to calm my rising anger.

"I haven't even taken a shower yet, and you're here to ask for my hand in marriage?! You're dead, Samir! I swear I'll smash a vase right on your head!"

Within two minutes, I saw Uns Appi entering the kitchen, and she looked stunned to see me.

"I know I look like a mess right now, Appi. What should I do? If I go out like this, the proposal will break before it even happens! And what if Abbu doesn't agree? What should I do?" I bombarded her with my uncontrollable worries.

"Calm down, Sahara," Uns Appi came towards me, embraced me, and softly caressed my head. I took a deep breath, feeling comforted by her warm touch.

"They've just come to talk. Hassan Reza himself invited Samir and his family, so don't stress. Just sit and relax," Appi's words gave me some relief.

After breaking the embrace, I peeked through the kitchen door to see what was happening. Uns Appi was instructing Nazma and the other staff to take the dishes to the hall while she prepared tea.

Abbu and Ammi were seated opposite the Farsi family. Samir, Aziz Bhai, and Tamir Bhai were sitting together, while on the third couch, Uns Appi's in-laws were seated.

And I was still in shock. How did he do this? Abbu himself called him?

I saw Samir looking around, and then he slightly turned his face to the right-right where I was peeking. And then... he winked at me!

"You're definitely going to die at my hands today, Samir!" I murmured under my breath, still angry at him for not informing me.

A few moments passed as everyone engaged in conversations. Then, Uns Appi took a tray of tea outside to serve it. She stood beside Ammi-until Aziz Bhai got up, held her hand, and made her sit on the couch next to him.

I doubt if he even breathes properly when Uns Appi is away from him for even a moment.

Un dono ko dekh ke aise lagta hai ki saanse woh leti hai aur jeeta woh hai.

(Looking at them, it seems like she breathes, and he lives).

And my own man? He has already made me his life.

While they talked for hours, I busied myself with filling my stomach.

After some time, everyone started getting up. Their faces were filled with happiness. Does this mean there's a chance?

A spark of hope lit up in my heart when I saw even Abbu smiling. What magic have you done, Samir, that even Hassan Reza is smiling?

Now, only Ammi, Abbu, Appi, Aziz Bhai, and Tamir Bhai remained in the room.

Abbu sat for a while, then picked up his bag and left for the hospital. As soon as he left, I stepped outside.

I greeted everyone with salaam, and Aziz Bhai looked at me with a teasing smile. Before he could say anything to tease me, I ran upstairs to fix my clothes and my entire state.

The moment I shut my room door, my heart started beating wildly. Samir's words echoed in my mind-"Tum bas saanse loh, Mohtarma."

Aur usne apna wada nibhaya, woh apni zubaan ke mutabik, mere ghar mujhe maangne aaya tha.

Samir came... for me?

I collapsed onto my bed, overcome with embarrassment, shyness, and the sheer happiness of knowing that soon... I would be his.

After showering, the first thing I did was take out my blue outfit. My hair was still slightly damp, so I let them be. I draped a light dupatta over my head and went downstairs.

Everyone was sitting except for Ammi, and Ezzeh Appi had also returned.

"Are you okay, Sahara?" Aziz Bhai asked with fake innocence as I sat on the couch.

"Yes, Bhai," I replied through gritted teeth.

"We were supposed to ask you before calling Samir, but what can we do? Arranged marriages are like this-"

I choked on my breath before he could even finish. How much more embarrassment is left for me today?

Arranged marriage... or planned marriage?

His words didn't feel like an explanation; they felt more like a taunt.

"Bhai, are you done?" I asked him sternly.

"Not yet. Can you call Samir?" he asked casually and I dialed his number.

In seconds, Samir picked up.

I handed the phone to Bhai, but he refused to talk and gestured for me to speak instead.

"Has Hassan Reza left?" Samir asked softly from the other end.

"Yes," I replied.

"Theke.... thoda back door kholo mere liye,"

(Then quickly open the back door for me).

This man is definitely going to give me a heart attack today!

I cut the call and walked towards the back door.

As I opened it, my breath hitched.

There he stood, his eyes lowered.

And in that moment, all my anger vanished into thin air.

Itne acche mat lago, mujhe, Samir. Mai badi mushkilo seh hosh sambhal rahi ho, I wanted to say, but the words never left my lips.

"Aren't you going to look at me?" I asked when he kept staring at the ground as if it was the most important thing in the world.

"No," he replied casually and lifted his eyes, but instead of looking at me, he turned his face to the right.

Oh great, this is what was left to see now?

"What now?" I asked, trying my best to control myself.

"You didn't even tell me how I look," he complained like a little kid and then turned his face to the left. Wow. Just wow!

"It's my turn to be angry with you, not yours to sulk over such things, Farsi," I said calmly, though it didn't sound like it.

"Whatever," he muttered. That was my last straw.

"Get in. I'll see you there." This time, my voice actually sounded soft.

"After you." Ya Allah! What kind of man is he? First, his endless dramas, and on top of that, his gentlemanly act! I scrunched my nose, absolutely done with his cuteness-I mean, his drama-and walked ahead. He followed behind me.

"Why is your hair still wet? You'll get sick, Sahara. Dry it properly," Shahenshah started scolding me out of concern.

"Nothing's going to happen to me," I assured him softly.

"Kuch ho bhi nahi sakhta, abhi nikkah joh karne hai mujhe tumse, phir honey---"

(Of course, it won't. After all, I still have to marry you, and then honey-)

"Will you please shut up, Samir?" I stopped in my tracks and turned to him.

"At least let me finish! I was saying, then I'll call you honey too. You need to change your mindset, Sahara. If you start thinking like this now, then...?" He flashed his mischievous smile, said something completely illogical, and walked ahead.

Ya Allah, please give me patience. That's all I prayed for as I made my way to the hall.

"By the way, why did you come through the back door?" I asked while walking.

"Your father wouldn't have liked it if his future son-in-law entered through the front door in front of him just to see his daughter once more," he said with deliberate pauses, and I was still curious to know how he had convinced Abbu.

We arrived, and everyone was busy in conversation.

"By the way, I didn't get to drink my tea properly. Will you make some for me?" Samir whispered lovingly as he leaned slightly over my shoulder while I sat on the couch.

"Okay," I replied with a soft smile.

"Uns, will you make tea for me?" I had just stood up when Aziz Bhai asked Appi.

"Why bhabhi, Bhai? Jaan will make-"

Samir stopped abruptly, his words hanging in the air. How much more embarrassment was left for me today?

"Alright then, ask your Jaan to make tea for all of us, Samir," Appi teased him, and I could feel the sarcasm directed at me.

"Jaan," Don't call me that Samir! I blushed deep red, yet he showed no mercy. I turned around and glared at him with fiery eyes. He only smiled.

"Will you make tea for everyone?" he asked with so much affection that saying no wasn't an option.

"Okay," I lowered my gaze, my heart pounding wildly just from having him in front of me.

"Mere liye masale wali chai," he added, and just like that, all my lovey-dovey emotions turned into pure annoyance.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth and walked toward the kitchen.

"Add cardamom too," he called from behind. I nodded and quickened my steps.

"Aur Ginger bhi kuth ke daalna-"

Tumhe hein kuth na du mai, Samir!

"Anything else?" I turned around, folding my arms and speaking in an overly sweet tone.

He hesitated, lowered his gaze, and shook his head. And just like that, I melted again.

Before my emotions could take over, realization hit-I wasn't alone. Four people were sitting there, thoroughly enjoying our little Tom and Jerry show for free. Without another word, I turned on my heels, trying to control my shamelessly blushing cheeks, and hurried toward the kitchen.

But his scent still lingered.

I turned back, only to find Samir following me with small steps.

I switched on the stove and immediately felt his presence behind me.

For Hindi/Urdu Readers :

For English Readers :

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"Jaan-" I called her name with love, but before I could say another word, she slammed the knife down onto the counter, glaring at me with those fiery red eyes. And honestly, I was more afraid of her gaze than the sharp edge of that knife.

What have I gotten myself into? I fell in love with those very eyes-those breathtakingly beautiful eyes that were now practically stabbing me with their sharp, piercing glare. I gulped hard at the moment.

"Your Jaan is about to take your life, Farsi," she said, shooting me a deadly look.

"If you kill me, then who will you tease later?" I asked playfully, watching as Sahara's eyes darkened even more at my words.

"Do I tease you, or do you tease me?" she asked sharply.

"Umm..." I pretended to think, glancing upward, while she looked completely done with me.

"Fine, I admit it. I tease you more, and you give more threats. So that makes us even, right?" I reasoned after much thought.

"Don't, Farsi. You make my blood pressure shoot through the roof," she warned. But would I listen to her? Of course, I would. And I did.

Without saying another word, I quietly sat on the counter, a little distance away from the stove where the tea was boiling. Sahara, standing beside me, first glanced at the tea and then shot me another sharp look.

Seeing me sitting there so casually, she scrunched her little red nose before going back to chopping the ginger.

"Should I make the tea?" I offered, trying to be helpful.

"Isn't it a little too soon to ask that?" she snapped, turning sharply toward me.

Even in her anger, she looked so beautiful that I felt like teasing her forever.

"Sahara?" I called her gently.

"Haan, Samir?" she responded, glancing at me briefly before turning her attention back to the boiling tea.

"Kuch kehna tha tumse"

(I wanted to say something).

"Haan, kaho," she said smoothly.

(Hmm? Go ahead).

"Bahut khubsurat lagh rahi ho, Sahara," Mai usse nazre na hatha saka, kyunki woh mujhe har waqt khubsurat lagti hai.

(You look incredibly beautiful, Sahara, I admitted, unable to look away-because to me, she was always beautiful).

"Thank you," she said softly, her gaze meeting mine for just a moment. A flush of red spread across her cheeks as she quietly uttered those words and began pouring tea into the cups. My heart seemed to stop for a moment. I was mesmerized by the unspoken emotions behind her shy smile.

"Sahara," I softly called her name.

"Yes, Samir?" came the same gentle response.

"I wanted to ask you something else," I said.

"Go ahead," she replied, placing the teacups on the tray.

"Why do you like white flowers?"

She lowered her gaze from the cups and looked up at me.

For a few moments, she remained silent, then a helpless yet tender smile appeared on her lips.

"Koi hai, jinse mai bahut mohabbat karti hoon aur woh mujhe safed phool ki tarah dikhti hai, khubsurat, khamosh, saaf, sukoon aur khushbu dene waali, kuch saal pehle kisine unke daaman peh lafzon seh kuch be buniyaad daag lagaye the, aur tabse mai unhe safed phool bheja karti thi aur ek chote seh kagaz mein likhti 'Jannat ke phoolon mein kabhi daag nahi lagte' phir wahan seh call ata aur sukoon dida shukriya ka phegaam aata. Bas in phoolon mein mai unhe dekhti hoon," Sahara neh teher teher ke apni baat badi safai seh aur khubsurti seh mukammal ki, uski awaaz narm thi magar aankhein dard bayan kar rahi thi, kon hai woh joh use itna azeez hai? Ab mujhe us insaan seh raks hone laga tha.

("There is someone I have loved deeply," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "She reminded me of white flowers-beautiful, silent, pure, soothing, and full of fragrance. A few years ago, someone tainted her name with words, leaving stains on her dignity. Since then, I have been sending her white flowers, along with a small note that says, 'The flowers of paradise never get stained.' Then, I receive a call filled with gratitude and peace. I see her in these flowers." Sahara spoke slowly, her words clear and beautiful. Her voice was soft, but her eyes carried a deep sorrow.

Who was this person so dear to her? I was beginning to feel a strange restlessness about them).

"Can I ask who it is-the one because of whom you love white flowers?" I asked gently, stepping down from the counter and taking the tray from her hands.

"The same person without whom your brother can't even breathe," she said simply, before reaching for some cookies.

It didn't take me a moment to understand that she was talking about Uns Bhabhi-Aziz's whole world.

I simply smiled and walked with Sahara to serve tea and cookies to everyone outside.

As I entered the hall, I saw Ezzeh and Tamir sitting on the couch, engaged in conversation-or rather, Ezzeh was talking about everything under the sun while Tamir sat silently across from her, giving her his full attention.

Across from them, Aziz and Bhabhi were communicating through hand gestures. I tried to understand what they were saying, but then I realized-who could possibly decipher their secret language? So, instead of bothering, I let everyone be and focused on serving tea with Sahara.

I took a seat while Sahara sat opposite me. She picked up a cup from the tray and handed it to me. I took a sip.

"How is it?" she asked.

"A little bitter-" I paused, unsure of where it came from or how, as Sahara bent down, picked up the vase, and placed it on the table.

"Am-- Amazing," I stuttered unexpectedly. I am not afraid of her, I falsely reassured myself-though deep down, I knew that was a complete lie.

"Thank you," she said with innocent sweetness, flashing that same soft smile before taking a sip of her own tea.

Watching her, I fell into deep thought. Looks like if I really want to spend my life with Sahara, I'll have to keep all the scissors, knives and so called vases far away from her.

And with that, I was waiting for tomorrow, when Hassan Reza would say yes for my and Sahara's Nikkah.

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A SMALL GLIMPSE FROM CHAPTER : 63

It was 7 in the evening, and Uns was packing some clothes and jewelry for Sahara and Samir's engagement tomorrow, while I sat on the bed, watching her, feeling restless.

How will I sleep without Uns now? Samir is the one getting engaged, but it's my peace that's being ruined!

"Sweetheart, let's go together tomorrow, Why do you need to leave now?" I had no idea how many times I'd already asked her this.

"Aziz, what's wrong with you? Why are you being so stubborn?" She stopped packing and spoke with clear annoyance.

"Nothing," I muttered and turned away. But just two minutes later, I turned back toward her-because my eyes simply couldn't stay away from her.

"Pick out a nice Abaya for me while I grab the rest of my things," she said hurriedly, as she started packing her makeup products.

With a sulking expression, I opened the wardrobe and began searching for an abaya for her. All of them were beautiful, but somehow, my eyes were drawn only to the one with daisy-embroidered sleeves. And that was it-I picked it up and placed it on the bed.

Then, opening the wardrobe again, I unlocked a small compartment and grabbed some cash. Holding the bundle of notes in my hand, I walked over to Uns, who was busy at the dressing table, gathering her things.

"Begum," I called her.

Here's a more cheerful and polite version of your announcement:

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Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for coming back and reading the new chapter! Your patience and unwavering support mean the world to me. 💖

I know I couldn't post it as promised, and for that, I sincerely apologize. But here I am, ready to hear all your thoughts, complaints, and even your little grievances! No targets, no conditions-just an open space for you to share.

I truly hope you'll forgive me and enjoy the chapter. Can't wait to hear from you! 💬✨

And last but not the least, just more three chapters to complete the whole book 📖

With love,

Author Almas 💕

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CHAPTER AESTHETICS :

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