We are having a very intense glaring contest, and these spectators sitting beside us look way too excited about itâwhen in reality, we are practically killing each other with looks. If glares could kill, that famous phrase would fit perfectly here...
"Ziah, stop irritating me. I won't have a noisy wedding."
Ziah stands up, looking absolutely done with my refusal. "Plug your ears with headphones if you have such a problem, because my wedding will not feel dead!"
I stand up too, equally irritated, but the moment I do, a pin-drop silence falls over the room.
"Do whatever you want, since my signature will only be needed."
Without glancing at any of the elders, I head straight for the door, determined to get out of this house as soon as possible. I ignore the voices calling me back, asking me to eat something. I don't even know why I'm feeling this much angerâit's so unlike me. I don't get mad over small things. What the hell is wrong with me?
As I step outside and walk toward my car, I notice my driver standing in the corner, chatting with the gardener.
"Yes, sir?" He rushes toward me when I call him.
"Can you drop Naim at school and then take Ziah to work?" I ask, eyeing the man who looks to be in his 30s.
He quickly nods. "Yes, sir."
With that settled, I get inside my car and drive off, heading to the one place where I can have a real conversationâwith my dad. I miss him. And maybe that's why, for no reason, I was getting so angry.
Why is he like this? He won't find peace until he ruins my mood.
With a huff, I sit down, only to hear the front door slam shut by that dumb jerk.
Marriage happens once in a lifetimeâyeah, some people do it two or three times, but the first one is special. Even if it's forced or without consent, it's still special.
And this dead zombie wants our wedding to be as lifeless as him? Hell no! I won't accept this!
He's the boss of such a big company, and everyone listens to his orders there, but here at home, only my orders will be taken.
...Okay, that probably won't happen, but still, we can give our hearts some self-support, right?
A pout forms on my lips as I sulk over the fact that he was acting so... so sweet yesterday, and today, he's lashing out at me. What's his problem? Why does he hate me so much? Well, fine. I hate him too! Feelings should be mutual.
He didn't even have his breakfast... I hope he faints and dramatically falls. Stupid rotten tomato.
The room falls silent, but I notice Naim and Saif blinking in confusion at this interesting topic called marriage.
Not that anyone bothers to explain it to them.
I chew on a piece of bread, but my appetite disappears the moment he leaves. Annoyed, I quickly rush to my room to get ready and leave by myselfâsince that rude human broke his promise of picking me up and dropping me off every day. Why make a promise if you're going to break it? And for me, someday came way too soon.
Rolling my eyes at everything, I walk toward the kitchen to pack some food.
Not because I care about him or anything. I just don't want to be the one playing the hero when he dramatically faints and falls and I have to run and catch him like some heroine in a drama. No, I should be the one dramatically fallingânot him.
I wave at Mama, who waves back while chatting with Aunty Laiba. Then, throwing a few flying kisses at my favorite Aunty, Ziyan's mother, who giggles in response, I finally leave in peace.
With a sigh, I check my wallet to see how much money I have. Like I said before, I never keep cash unless I plan on buying something.
Just as I'm about to step out, a man who looks like a driverâjudging by his clothesârushes toward me.
"Ma'am?"
I blink at the unfamiliar gentleman, who maintains a polite distance as he speaks.
"Yes?" I shove my wallet back into my bag, giving him my full attention.
"Sir asked me to drop you at the office."
I glance behind him to see a car waiting, its door already open for me.
...Okay, that was unexpected.
"Oh." That's all that comes out of my mouth because I'm too flustered to say anything else.
Of course, it feels special knowing that even when he's upset, he still thought about me. That's so sweet of him.
For a second, my mind wavers, almost ready to give up on my grand wedding idea.
...But that would be too much of a sacrifice.
So I quickly shake my head, shaking off the thoughts, and hop inside the car happily. Settling into the seat, I get comfortable as the driver shuts the door and starts driving.
We arrive at the building in no time, and I quickly wave at the driver for being the sweetest before rushing inside.
I don't waste my time going to my floor to bless my coworkers with my beautiful face. Instead, I head straight to Ziyan's floor for a little chitchat.
"Hey, Max! Where's your boss?" I ask, barging in with zero warning.
Max blinks at me, clearly caught off guard by my sudden entry. "Inside," he points at the closed door. Then, lowering his voice, he adds, "Is everything alright? He doesn't look in a good mood today."
Oh, now that's useful information.
"Wait for me. I'll go in like a genie and make my Aladdin's mood bright in a second," I announce, feeling an odd burst of happiness and excitement.
I hop like a kangaroo toward Ziyan's office, not before throwing Max a wink that says, I got this, bro.
He giggles, nodding, and throws me a thumbs-up as I disappear through the door.
I knock twice but don't bother waiting for a response before entering. Because today, I'm impatient. I don't even know why.
Maybe because his small gestureâthinking about me even when he was madâdid something to my heart.
And that's why I'm here. To act like an adult.
I read somewhere that in any relationship, one person should be mature to keep things balanced. Otherwise, it leads to big, long fights. And in our case, I am that mature person.
A proud smile appears on my face as I step inside.
"Hi!"
Ziyan looks utterly annoyed. Before I can walk in any further, he growls, "Did I ask you to enter?"
I glance at the door, then back at him, before professionally ignoring his words. I toss my bag onto the couch and rush toward him, grabbing his arm to pull him up.
"Skipping breakfast is bad for your health. Did nobody teach you that?" I glare at him.
He stares at me but doesn't resist as I drag him along.
"It's okay. I'll teach you all the important things since Allah has blessed your life with my presence." I give him a proud grin, only for him to roll his eyes in irritation.
"Like a good human, I brought breakfast. Come on, let's eat," I say, flopping onto the couch and patting the empty space beside me.
Ziyan stares at me for a few seconds, seemingly deep in thought, before finally sitting down. Satisfied, I start opening the packed boxes.
He takes the one I shove into his hands, leans back, but doesn't touch the food.
"Eat up," I say with a smile.
He nods, dropping his gaze to the food before looking back at me.
"Did you eat?"
I give him a quick nod. Technically, I did take a few bites earlierâeven if I could barely swallow anything because of guiltâso it's not a lie.
He grabs a sandwich and moves it toward my lips.
"No, I ateâ" I try stopping him, holding his wrist because it's his food, but he's as stubborn as gum stuck in hair.
"I don't think so. Your stomach looks flat."
...Excuse me?
He eyes my tummy, then my lips, before tapping the sandwich against them.
With a sigh, I open my mouth and take a very small bite. You know, like those typical high-class people do in daily soap dramas.
Ziyan's eyebrows furrow, and he rolls his eyes.
"What was that? I know you don't have such a small mouth. Open it properly."
The next thing I know, he's stuffing half the sandwich into my mouthâjust the way I like. Because let's be real, those tiny bites? Not my thing.
"It's yours, not mine," I protest, pushing his hand away.
Like a decent man, he finally eatsâvery professionally. So professionally that I can't even hear him chewing.
And me? Let's not talk about me.
"Listen, Ziyan," I say, turning fully to face him. "About our weddingâlet's discuss it like two mature adults, okay?"
He raises an eyebrow, amused.
I flash him my sweetest smile. "So tell me, what kind of wedding do you have in mind? A destination wedding? A cruise wedding? Maybe we can go to Paris andâ"
Before I can finish listing my wonderful ideas, he interrupts.
"A nikah in a masjid and a reception at our house. That's what I want, Ziah."
...Mood ruined.
I give him a sharp glare.
"What are you going to do with all the money you earn? Take it with you when you die? No, right? Then why the hell are you hoarding it in your account? Use it for your wedding, dude!"
Ziyan leans back, nodding slowly, as if processing my words.
I press my lips together to stop myself from grinning. Yes, yes, agree with me, my dear husband-to-be. Let's have a grand wedding.
"Ziah," he says, leaning forward as if about to reveal something important.
I quickly lean in, eager to hear his thoughts. "Hmm?"
He gives me a small smile.
"You do know that the nikah..." He pauses for dramatic effect, watching me closely.
I nod encouragingly. "Yes?"
"...is paid for by the bride's side."
Silence.
My soul leaves my body.
Ziyan leans back, completely relaxed. "Which means your father, who loves spending money on every single thing you ask for, will definitely handle the beautiful decorations and the extravagant destination wedding you're planning."
My eyes widen. My brain malfunctions. My entire being shatters into dust.
Abbu? Spending money on things that aren't useful?
If that happens, I swear, I will perform sajda all day and pray a hundred rakat of Salatul Shukr.
"Shit, heck, freak, damn! I forgot about that!"
I slap my forehead.
How could I be so dumb?
My Abbu will manipulate me into agreeing to his decision, not mine.
I can already see my grand wedding slipping down the drain like water.
A pout forms on my lips, and my eyes tear up. It feels so unfair that I can't even have the wedding I want. My Abbu is the kind of man who once compared Gucci shoes to a $20 pair an old man was sellingâand then taunted me for a whole week about how foolish I was for spending $1000 on a pair of shoes. I can't even imagine what would've happened if I'd told him they weren't $1000 but $1700. Worth it, though. It's been three years, and I still keep them wiped clean, and people still gawk at themâeven though I don't show off.
Because I'm not that type of person. I do not do Riya.
"What should I do now?" I blink, feeling frustrated.
"What? Ask your Abbu. I'm sure he'll spend a penny on his daughter." I can hear the mockery behind Ziyan's words.
"Of course, he'll throw some bucks at me, but if I ask him to spend on something grand, he'll shut me down with: 'You want to invite 100 people? You have full permission. But that can happen in a small room too. Why would we waste money like fools on something that won't even fit all our relatives?'" I mimic his old, irritating voice, and Ziyan cracks up.
"This is not fair," I whine, kicking my legs up and down before leaning on Ziyan's shoulder for comfort. He gently pats my cheek, clearly enjoying my misery.
"I had so many plans for my wedding. I can see everything going in vain in front of everyone," I mumble, pouting.
He chuckles. "Hmm, tell me your plans. Let's see what you've got."
I bite my lip but quickly pull out my phone, going straight to my gallery, where a folder titled Ziah's Wedding sits proudly.
"Since I was 17, I've been saving all the best pictures for my wedding from Pinterest and other websites," I say with a chuckle, showing him the henna designs I've collectedâso many that I'm confused about which to pick.
"Just look at this decoration. Waah." I clutch my heart, overwhelmed by the beauty and perfection.
"I've even picked the big couch I'll sit on after my Nikkah." I giggle, showing him a grand white couch that looks like something from an ancient era but still ethereal and modern. I love it.
"Are you trying to break my heart by making me look at all your dream pictures and then pouring hot water on them so I burn and die?" He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Maybe," I mumble as he takes my phone.
"You're a cruel jerk, you should know that." I elbow his stomach in anger before fixing my hijab, ready to head back.
"How can someone laugh at a broken person like this? Not everyone is as rich as this rotten tomato," I grumble. "God, I can already imagine myself sitting on some cushion, wearing my heavy dress during my Nikkah, in a small, dead, coffin-like room, saying I accept this Nikkah. How can life be soâ"
A gasp escapes my lips as Ziyan suddenly pulls me by the wrist, making me drop onto the couch with wide eyes.
"Stop blabbering so much," he glares, still doing something on my phone. "I already told you not to phase out like this."
Waitâdid he just change his mind after seeing my collection? But hold on, I was planning to buy three dresses just for my Nikkah. And considering how kanjoos my Abbu is... yeah, that's not happening. I should just go sit in a corner and cry.
"Not again, Ziah," he mutters, shaking his head.
"Ziyan, God, I can't even buy three dresses as I wished," I whimper, pressing my trembling lips together.
"We'll talk about that later. Now get up and go back to work, Ms. Ziah. Don't waste my precious time."
I groan at the Ms. Ziah again, throwing my bag over my shoulder. Pointing my index finger at his smug face, I declare, "Mark my words. One day, you'll change these words."
I flick his forehead gently, giggling to myself as I leave. But, of course, I don't forget to snatch my phone from his grip before disappearing behind the doors.
"Bye, boss," I wave.
In a few minutes, I'm pushing open the door to our floor, stepping inside to see everyone sitting in groups, talking freely yet in hushed tones. A quick glance at our boss's empty seat brings a smile to my face.
"Hello, loves!" I rush toward my three friends, who are happily munching on something.
"Hii!" Aliya beams at me with her cutest smile as I quickly take a seat between her and Zoe, who greets me with a squint since her mouth is too full to speak.
"What are you guys eating?"
Zach, who has his legs lazily propped up on the desk, waves a big chocolate wrapper in my face. "Here, there are three pieces left. We would've swallowed them too, but since it's your gift, we kept some for you," he grins innocently, wiping his hands with a tissue.
I nod, taking the chocolate, but then his words sink in.
"Damn goodness! Why did you eat it? If Ziyan finds out we ate what that sweet stalker gave us, you guys are dead! He warned me to stay away from those gifts, and I promised him I would!" I bite my lip nervously, glancing around for any hidden camerasâjust in case he's watchingâbut all I see is the big one controlled by the assigned team, not him.
"Oh, we didn't know that..." Zoe blinks regretfully, realizing she just ate the sweets from our resident stalker.
"It's okay. From tomorrow, we won't eat them. You don't have to worry, Zoe," Zach reassures her with a charming smile, making me roll my eyes at this annoying flirt.
"Ziah, just eat those today. From tomorrow, we'll be careful," he coaxes, trying to cheer me up.
I hesitate for a second, but that chocolateâfilled with nutsâlooks too delicious to resist.
This is the last time. I won't take anything from him after today.
With that final thought, I sit back, unwrap the chocolate, and pop it into my mouth.
"I have something to tell you all," I say, chewing, as they nod in curiosity.
Zach's eyes are on Zoe, who's scrolling through her phone, while Aliya is fully focused on the chocolate in my hand.
"I'm getting married."
Aliya gasps loudly. Zach, caught off guard, slips and nearly falls off the table. Zoe, meanwhile, is just... staring at me, jaw completely unhinged.
I do not look that bad to make marriage seem so shocking, for God's sake.
I roll my eyes at their dramatic reactions, but then I drop another bomb, knowing their expressions are about to get even better.
"To our boss."
A small smile plays on my lips as I watch the chaos unfold.
"What the hell?â" Zach gasps, jumping to his feet. "Girl, I told you to marry him for my promotion as a joke! You don't have to sacrifice your life for me!"
"Shut up, Zach." My calm response shocks them even more.
The looks on their faces tell me I need to explain everything from A to Z, so I doâhow Ziyan saved me from those bad boys, how someone snapped our picture, and how that spiraled into this ridiculous situation.
Zach gets angry that I didn't tell him about the harassment, and Zoe does too. Meanwhile, Aliyaâsweet, soft-hearted Aliyaâhas been sobbing for the past few minutes because she wasn't there to hug me to sleep when I needed it. I rub her back, feeling touched by her love.
"I'm fine now, stop it," I giggle, but Zach just rolls his eyes in annoyance.
"Aly, can you stop crying? She's sitting alive in front of you, and you're acting like she's dead," he grumbles.
A quick punch lands on his arm, and a hiss escapes his lips as he rubs the spot.
"If you're being forced, please say no. We have your back. If you don't love him, don't marry him," Zoe says seriously, squeezing my hand.
I give her a small smile, squeezing back.
"Of course, a part of me doesn't want to marry him because it'll be awkward to see him as my husband when I've always seen him as a cousin," I admit. "But I also want to do this to save Mamma from questions and humiliation. And... another part of me wants to marry him because, wellâI'll be the wife of our boss. I'll be labeled as the CEO's wife. I can already see people bowing to me when I enter the building. I can buy as many Gucci bags as I want. And I can take days off with the help of Aunty. There are so many advantages to marrying him.
And about love... I do love himâas a cousin. But love is a matter of the heart. It can change at any moment. Who knows? Maybe I will fall for my boss." I wink, grinning.
They burst into laughter, nodding in agreement.
"Of course you will," Zach smirks. "He's handsome, he's rich, has a perfect bodyâand the way his muscles flex in those tight shirts... I'm sure he has lots of stamina too."
Astaghfirullah.
Zach, the pervert, winks at me, and his two side minions giggle at his words, making me a blushing mess. My cheeks are heating up like a high flame.
I ignore their giggles, grab a file, and try to readâbut the words blur before my eyes.
Because of these humans.
These so-called friends.
Ruining my innocent mind.
5:00 pm
I stretch my limbs to relax my tightened muscles, a yawn slipping past my lips before I quickly cover my mouth.
"What a busy day."
Standing up, I toss all my belongings into my bag. It's time to leave. My friends have already gone, but since Ziyan leaves after five, I had to wait for him. I figured I might as well finish some work while waiting.
I step out of the room, heading toward the parking lot to wait for my boss, but on the way, I feel a strange sensationâlike someone is throwing daggers straight into my soul. The heat of their glare is so intense that I instinctively turn my head, only to find Mateo glaring at me.
And it's not the funny kind of glare. It's sharp. Dangerous.
What's his problem now?
Since he's always the one waving at me first, I lift my hand and wave at himâjust to be polite. But instead of returning it, he crosses his arms and turns his back on me like a child.
I stare at his back, confused.
Weird.
Shrugging it off, I continue toward the parking lot.
A smile spreads across my lips when I spot Ziyan already seated in his car, his eyes glued to his phone. I quietly slip into the passenger seat, and that's when he finally looks up.
Without a word, he nods, starts the engine, and we drive away.
â
"I shouldn't have let them go to work today! They still haven't arrived, and they're getting engaged in two hours! They're not even picking up their phonesâLaiba!"
Mamma rushes back and forth, talking non-stop, but my mouth falls open in shock when I see the sheer number of guests who have already arrived.
I glance at Ziyan, who looks utterly done with everything.
He rolls his eyes, jaw clenching in irritation as he tucks his hands into his pockets, glaring at the decorations and the endless sea of people seated in the hall.
"Ziah!!"
A loud voice calls my name, and I barely have time to react before everyone snaps their heads toward me.
Oh no.
"Hey, Nisma," I force a smile at my cousin as she jogs toward me, grinning brightly. Before I know it, a mob of people rush toward us.
Ziyan, with a scoff, escapes before he gets dragged into the chaos, heading straight toward Aunty.
"You woman! You didn't tell me you were getting engagedâand to Ziyan of all people!" Nisma chirps, throwing her arms around me.
"Okay, okay, hugging and all can wait," Mamma says, patting my back. "Take this girl to the roomâshe needs to get ready."
Nisma hooks her arm through mine, dragging me along as she chatters.
"Fuzail was waiting for you and Ziyan, but he had other work, so he left," she says, referring to my cousin who's two years older than me. He and his sister are Uncle Sam's kids, and they both inherited his over-excited genes. Everything they do is at full energy, and they're also unbearably cute.
We enter the guest room, where Hafsa is lounging on the bed, scrolling through her phone.
As soon as she hears us, she looks upâand a huge grin spreads across her lips.
She rushes toward me, pulling me into a tight hug.
"I didn't believe it when Ammi said you were getting engaged!" she squeals.
I giggle, my cheeks heating at all the attention.
"The dress is so beautifulâyou have to check it out. I've been eyeing it since I got here!" Hafsa gushes.
Curious, my gaze automatically lands on the bed.
A blood-red long dress, laid out neatly, shimmering under the lights. It's so stunning that I feel my throat tighten, my eyes welling up.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, my fingers lightly grazing the fabric.
"It is," Hafsa agrees, grinning. "Ziyan's gonna be flat when he sees you in this. I bet after tonight, he'll just tell them to do the nikah already!"
A soft laugh leaves my lips, and I shake my head, feeling shy.
Rushing into the washroom, I begin getting ready.
Two hours later, I'm sitting in front of the mirror, dolled upâmy makeup done flawlessly by Hafsa, who, being a makeup artist, worked her magic on my face.
"Mashallah," Ammi murmurs, smiling as she presses a long kiss to my forehead.
I barely hold back my tears, not wanting to ruin the makeup.
It's just an engagement... and yet I'm being this pampered.
"Finally, you'll leave me. Thank God," Saif sighs dramatically, wiping away imaginary sweat.
I slap his arm, making him chuckle.
"I knew you had something going on with your bossâbut seriously, you hid it so well," he whispers, patting my back. "You proved today that you're Saif's sister."
I roll my eyes but chuckle, my gaze falling on the henna sticker in my hand.
After one last glance in the mirror, drowning in too many insecurities, I follow Ammi down the stairs.
"The bride is here!" Fuzail yells at the top of her lungs, and the room erupts into cheersâonly for everyone to suddenly stop and turn to look at me.
I squeeze Mamma's hand, my nerves spiking, and bite my lip out of habit.
Slowly, I lift my eyelids, my gaze searching for those familiar, protective eyes.
And when I find themâwhen my eyes meet hisâmy breath hitches.
He's breathtaking.
******
A/n: Sorry for the super late update, I know you guys are super duper upset with me and I apologise for that again.
I hope you enjoy reading!