It was one of those mornings where Mariam had pushed her luck with sleep, buried in her cocoon of fluffy white teddy fur pajamas, her hair a tangled mess from her restless dreams. She snored softly, oblivious to the chaos brewing downstairs. Aroosh, her determined and loving yet strict mother, had been calling her for the past hour, her voice echoing through the Shah household.
"Mariam! Uth jao!" she yelled, but Mariam remained unfazed, lost in a slumber fueled by last night's binge-watching of Turkish dramas. Fateh, Mariam's father, chuckled at his wife's growing frustration, sipping his morning tea.
"Chhod do, Begum. Ek din college nahi jayegi toh kya ho jayega?" Fateh teased, trying to calm her down.
"Fateh, aaj pehla din hai! She's already starting mid-term; how can she show up late? It's embarrassing! Aaj usse toh uthna padega!" With a dramatic sigh, Aroosh marched upstairs, ready to drag her sleepy daughter out of bed.
The door to Mariam's room swung open with a bang, and Aroosh stormed in like a soldier on a mission. She grabbed the edge of Mariam's blanket and yanked it off. But Mariam? She remained a statue, undisturbed. "Yeh ese nahi uthegi," Aroosh muttered to herself before spotting a bottle of water on the bedside table. Without hesitation, she splashed it on Mariam's unsuspecting face.
"AM AWAKE, AMMI! AM AWAKE!" Mariam jolted up, gasping, her face dripping wet. Her wide, startled eyes made Aroosh smirk in triumph.
"SONA MAT FIRSE, Miss Mariam Shah! Tum pehle hi late ho apne pehle din ke liye! Jaldi tayaar ho aur nikal jao!" Aroosh barked before leaving the room, her mission accomplished.
Still groggy, Mariam checked her phone and groaned in horror. Her first class was in 30 minutes, and she was already late. "Oh no, no, no!" she muttered as she stumbled out of bed, tripping over her slippers and bumping into the side table. She rushed into the bathroom, managing her morning routine in record time, and emerged 15 minutes later in a crisp white outfit paired with her favorite open abaya, which she wore like a shrug. Her messy hair was hastily combed, though still rebellious in its waves.
"Ammi, I'm going! No time for breakfast!" Mariam called out, grabbing a slice of chocolate bread as she made her way to the door.
"Beta, dahi-cheeni toh khao. It's good luck for your first day!" Aroosh insisted, holding out a spoonful.
Mariam groaned but relented, swallowing the yogurt mix quickly. "Ammi, rock karne ki baat nahi hai. Dar lag raha hai. I'm already joining mid-term, and now I'll make a bad impression by being late!"
"You'll do great. Stop worrying and focus. Chalo, best of luck!" Aroosh kissed her forehead, and Mariam kissed both her parents before rushing out the door.
The moment she entered the gates of her dental college, she was struck by the grandness of the campus. The lush lawns, the tall buildings, and the buzz of students were almost overwhelming. "Wow," she whispered, her nerves momentarily forgotten. But reality struck as she remembered she was late.
She hurried through the empty hallways, searching her bag for her phone and ID, when—thud!—she collided head-on with a solid chest. The impact sent her stumbling backward, and she braced herself to hit the ground. But instead of falling, strong hands wrapped around her waist, steadying her.
Heart pounding, she slowly opened her eyes to find herself face-to-face with hazel ones. They stared at her intently, as though time had frozen. For a moment, Mariam forgot where she was, lost in the depth of his gaze.
The spell broke when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
"I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking!" Mariam blurted, stepping back quickly, her cheeks flushed.
The man straightened, his commanding aura unmistakable. "Don't you know this is a college? Running through the halls and being late are both prohibited here," he said, his deep voice authoritative.
Mariam blinked, stunned at his tone. Something about the way he spoke sent an unfamiliar tingle through her, but she quickly composed herself. "Prohibited? Seriously? Running isn't a crime!" she retorted, folding her arms.
The man gave her a hard look. "Ma'am, watch your language."
"Oh, great. Swearing is prohibited too?" Mariam rolled her eyes dramatically. "Look, I'm late, and I really don't have time to argue with oldies like you." She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.
After frantically searching multiple classrooms, Mariam finally found the right one, but she was 35 minutes late. Knocking nervously on the door, she stepped in, and her eyes widened in disbelief.
Standing at the front of the class was the same man she had called an "oldie."
He turned to face her, equally surprised. "Oh, wow. I didn't know you were part of my class. Amazing. Come in, Miss Latecomer," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Mariam mentally facepalmed. Mariam, why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut for once?
"So, may I know the reason for your lateness, Miss...?" he asked, his tone deliberately formal.
"Mariam. Mariam Shah, sir," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
"Sir? Oh, that's new. I thought I was just an 'oldie,'" he muttered under his breath, loud enough for her to hear. Mariam winced.
"I'm sorry! I was running late, and I didn't mean—"
"Why are you late, Miss Shah?" he interrupted, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
"It's my first day, and I didn't know my way around," she explained honestly. He checked his emails and confirmed her name as the new student, then gave her a pointed look. "Last warning. Don't ever be late for my class again."
Mariam nodded meekly and slipped into a seat beside a cheerful-looking girl and boy.
"Hi! I'm Zara, and this is Humza," the girl whispered, introducing herself.
"Hi. Nice to meet you," Mariam replied, relieved to find a friendly face.
As the class continued, Mariam found herself zoning out,
Mariam slumped back in her chair, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't focus on the lecture after the incident. Her professor—Rehaan Ahmed, as she had learned from Zara—was now etched into her mind, not because of his sternness, but because of the absurdity of the situation. What had started as a chaotic morning was turning into a full-blown nightmare.
Unable to concentrate on the lecture material, Mariam instinctively reached for her notebook. Instead of jotting down notes like a good student, her hand began to sketch. Her pencil danced across the page as she absentmindedly recreated Rehaan's face—his sharp jawline, neatly trimmed beard, and piercing hazel eyes. But, of course, she exaggerated the features, turning his stern expression into a comical, angry scowl with furrowed brows and steam puffing out of his ears. She even added a speech bubble that read, "Miss Shah, in my office NOW!"
She was so engrossed in her doodle that she didn't notice Rehaan walking around the classroom. He moved silently, scanning students' work, occasionally nodding in approval. When he reached Mariam's desk, his sharp eyes caught sight of her sketch. Without a word, he leaned down and snatched the notebook from her hands.
Mariam froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. She slowly looked up, meeting Rehaan's stern gaze. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but she swore she saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes before it vanished.
"Miss Shah," he said in a low, controlled voice, holding up the notebook. "In my office. After class." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked back to the front of the room, leaving Mariam mortified.
"Gosh, he definitely has a problem with me. Akdu kahi ke," Mariam muttered under her breath, glaring at his back. She crossed her arms and slumped further into her chair.
Zara leaned over, whispering, "Are you okay? Ek hi din mein sir se itna dant padhna is rough. But don't worry, he's not as bad as he seems."
Mariam raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Not as bad? He practically lives to humiliate me!" she hissed.
Zara giggled. "Actually, he's my cousin—dur ke rishtedar. Hum cousins bolte hain, but honestly, I still complain about him to my mom all the time. So, I get it."
Mariam nearly choked on air. "Cousin?!" she repeated, louder than intended. Several students turned to look, and Zara shushed her.
"Relax! He's not going to find out I told you. Just... go to his office, apologize, and you'll be fine."
Mariam groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This is the worst first day ever."
The class finally ended, and the students began packing up. Zara patted Mariam's shoulder encouragingly. "Good luck! Don't let him scare you."
"Easy for you to say," Mariam muttered as she gathered her things. With a heavy sigh, she made her way to Rehaan's office, dreading whatever awaited her.
Rehaan's office was located at the far end of the hallway. The door was slightly ajar, and Mariam could see him sitting at his desk, reviewing some papers. His blazer had been discarded on the back of his chair, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. She hesitated at the door, debating whether she should just turn around and pretend this never happened.
"Miss Shah," his voice called out, startling her. He hadn't even looked up. "Come in."
Mariam stepped inside, clutching her bag nervously. The office was neat and organized, with bookshelves lining the walls and a faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. Rehaan gestured for her to sit in the chair across from his desk. She obeyed, feeling like a child being called to the principal's office.
He finally looked up, his hazel eyes studying her intently. "Care to explain this?" he asked, holding up her notebook.
Mariam bit her lip. "Um... it's just... a silly sketch. I didn't mean any disrespect, sir."
"A silly sketch," he repeated, his tone unreadable. He flipped the notebook open, revealing the caricature of his angry face. "This is how you see me?"
Mariam couldn't tell if he was offended or amused, and the uncertainty made her panic. "No, no! I mean... maybe a little? But it's not that bad! I just... I zone out when I'm nervous, and drawing helps me focus."
Rehaan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Miss Shah, this is a classroom, not an art studio. If you're zoning out during lectures, you're not only wasting your time but mine as well."
"I'm sorry," Mariam said earnestly. "It's my first day, and I was already late, and everything's been so overwhelming. I didn't mean to disrespect you. I'll take the class seriously from now on."
Rehaan studied her for a moment, his expression softening slightly. "First days can be tough," he admitted. "But that doesn't excuse unprofessional behavior. You're here to learn, not to draw cartoons of your professor."
He closed the notebook and handed it back to her. "Good. You can go."
She stood up quickly, eager to escape, but as she reached the door, his voice stopped her. "Miss Shah."
She turned, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes, sir?"
His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. "The sketch wasn't half bad."
Mariam blinked, unsure if she had just imagined it. But before she could say anything, Rehaan had already returned to his papers, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
She walked out of the office, her heart pounding. "What just happened?" she whispered to herself, clutching her notebook tightly. One thing was certain—her first day at college was going to be unforgettable.
As Mariam drove back home after a whirlwind of a first day at college, her thoughts were still swirling between the chaotic events. Parking her car in the garage, she stepped out, her mind replaying her "oldie professor" moment. Shaking her head at herself, she walked towards the house, her white abaya swaying lightly in the breeze.
The moment she opened the door, she saw her mother, Aroosh, pacing around the living room with her phone pressed to her ear. Aroosh's sharp eyes immediately landed on Mariam, who dropped her bag in the doorway and rushed over to her mother. Without a word, Mariam wrapped her arms around Aroosh in a tight hug, planting a loud kiss on her cheek.
Aroosh sighed dramatically, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Haye Allah, yeh ladki kabhi nahi sudhregi," she muttered to herself, watching Mariam spin away, leaving her bag on the sofa as if it belonged there permanently.
Mariam darted straight into the kitchen, opening cabinets and rummaging through the fridge. "Kuch khana hai, kuch bhi!" she muttered to herself, pulling out a bar of chocolate she had hidden days ago. Plopping onto the dining table chair, she began munching on it, blissfully unaware of her mother now standing behind her with arms crossed.
"Mariam Shah!" Aroosh's voice startled Mariam so much that she almost dropped the chocolate. "You can't eat chocolate like this! Kitni dafa bola hai—bad for you!"
"Ammi, please," Mariam whined, sulking like a child. "Aaj toh khaane do! Bohat khrab din tha mera!" She made a face so pitiful that Aroosh couldn't help but sigh.
"Haye, kya huwa meri pyaari se pari ke saath?" Aroosh's voice softened as she tied her dupatta properly and began pulling ingredients out of the pantry. Her daughter was a storm, no doubt about it, but she couldn't stand to see her upset. "Main pasta banati hoon. Baat batao apni ammi ko."
Grateful for the gesture, Mariam began recounting the day's events, from her mother throwing water on her to wake her up, to her dramatic collision with her professor, to accidentally calling him an "oldie." As she animatedly explained, waving her hands in the air to emphasize her point, Aroosh shook her head but laughed softly.
"Pagal ladki," Aroosh muttered, stirring the pasta. "Woh professor bhi sochta hoga, kis museebat mein phas gaya hoon."
Mariam groaned and rested her head on the table. "Ammi, I'm pretty sure he already hates me! First I was late, then I drew his caricature, and then I called him old. How am I supposed to survive this semester?"
Just then, Fateh, her father, walked into the kitchen. He froze, leaning against the doorframe, and smiled at the sight in front of him—his two favorite women deep in conversation. Moments like these were his favorite. Quietly, he walked up behind Aroosh and kissed the top of her head.
"Aap..." Aroosh blushed like a teenager, swatting him lightly with a spoon.
"Ewww, Papa, seriously?" Mariam exclaimed, scrunching her nose. "Get a room, please!"
Aroosh smacked Mariam on the arm gently, muttering, "Badtameez." Fateh, on the other hand, burst out laughing before turning his attention to his daughter.
"Haan meri gudiya," Fateh said, sitting down beside Mariam. "Toh batao, aaj kiski naukri se fire karwana hai? Kis professor ka dil dukhaya tumne?"
"Fateh!" Aroosh scolded, but the smile on her face gave away her amusement.
Mariam smirked. "Oh, nothing, Papa. I just called my professor an oldie, doodled his angry face, and ended up in his office. No big deal."
Fateh's laughter filled the room. "Rooh, isse yeh sab mujhse nahi, aap se seekha hai. Dekho na, saari harkate aap par hi toh gayi hain!"
"Fateh!" Aroosh exclaimed again, but before she could say anything more, Mariam joined in, throwing a cushion at her father. "Bas, ab pakdo Papa ko!"
What followed was utter chaos. The three of them darted around the kitchen and living room, laughing and chasing each other like children. Aroosh tried to catch Fateh, who was too busy dodging Mariam's cushion attacks, while Mariam pretended to hide only to jump out and scare them both.
After a solid ten minutes of laughter, they finally collapsed onto the living room sofa, out of breath but beaming with joy. Fateh turned on the TV, flipping through channels until he found a movie they all liked. Aroosh disappeared into the kitchen briefly and returned with a large bowl of freshly made pasta, setting it on the coffee table along with three plates.
"Chalo, ab bas," Aroosh said, shaking her head. "Film dekho aur khana khao. Tum dono ne mujhe pagal kar diya hai."
"Ammi," Mariam said with a full mouth, grinning. "Aap toh sabse zyada pagal hain."
The family spent the evening enjoying their movie night, sharing pasta and teasing each other. Mariam may have had a rough day, but moments like these reminded her that no matter how chaotic life got, she always had her little haven at home.
Since that day, Mariam had grown determined to be a better student in Rehaan's class. She had stopped daydreaming, sketching, or zoning out. Instead, she focused intently on his lectures, eager to learn and, if she was honest with herself, even more eager to avoid disappointing him. Rehaan, on the other hand, often walked around the classroom during his lectures, his eyes occasionally flicking toward Mariam's desk to ensure she wasn't up to her old antics. To his surprise, she was always diligently taking notes, and the improvement didn't go unnoticed.
It was a cold, early winter evening, and classes had just ended. Mariam hopped into her car and started her drive home. The sun was setting, casting the streets in an amber glow, but as she drove through a quieter, almost deserted area, her car suddenly sputtered and came to a stop.
Mariam frowned, gripping the wheel tightly. "Oh no, not now," she muttered, glancing at the empty road around her. After a few futile attempts to restart the car, she gave up with a sigh. She pulled out her phone to call her parents, but to her frustration, there was no signal.
Frustrated, she leaned back in her seat and tried to think of a solution. Just then, she noticed an ice cream truck parked a little further down the road. Its cheerful jingle played faintly in the distance.
Mariam stepped out of her car and walked toward the truck, clutching her coat tightly against the chill. She bought an ice cream cone, hoping the owner might know if there was a mechanic nearby. "Uncle, yahan aas paas koi mechanic hai?" she asked politely.
The older man gave her a kind smile and said, "Yahin signal milta hai. Main phone kar deta hoon kisi ko. Aap car ke paas jaake wait kariye."
Mariam thanked him and returned to her car, standing beside it as she licked her ice cream. She was beginning to relax a little, hoping for help to arrive soon, when she noticed a group of men approaching her.
"Madam, hum toh theek kar dete hain," one of them called out, his tone unsettling.
"No, thank you," Mariam replied firmly, stepping back slightly.
But the men didn't stop. Instead, they continued to inch closer, their voices dripping with innuendo. One of them yanked her ice cream out of her hand, laughing crudely.
"Stay away, or I'll call the police!" Mariam said, her voice trembling slightly as she clutched her phone, despite knowing it had no signal.
The men laughed. "Police? Yahan toh koi hai hi nahi, madam. Hum hi hain aapke madadgar."
Fear started to creep into her chest as the men closed in, but just then, a voice boomed from behind her.
"Jaan, I've been looking for you everywhere. Tum bina bataye yahan kyun aa gayi?"
Mariam turned her head sharply to see Rehaan striding toward her with purposeful intensity. The men froze, visibly intimidated by the tall, broad-shouldered man with a commanding presence. Rehaan stopped right beside Mariam, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as if to anchor her.
The men quickly backed off, muttering apologies. "Sorry, bhai, hum toh bas mazaak kar rahe the." They turned and walked away hurriedly, glancing back nervously once before disappearing down the road.
Rehaan exhaled deeply and turned to Mariam, who stood frozen in shock. "Are you okay?"
Before he could say another word, Mariam threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. The suddenness of the gesture startled him, but he quickly wrapped his arms around her in a protective embrace.
Her muffled voice broke through the silence. "Agar aap na aate, I don't know what they would've done. Thank you."
Rehaan felt her trembling slightly and tightened his hold. "It's okay. You're safe now," he said softly, his voice calming her.
Realizing what she was doing, Mariam suddenly pulled away, her cheeks flushed. "I—I'm sorry, woh bas... I was scared."
Rehaan gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't apologize. It's not a big deal." He walked back to the ice cream truck, returning a moment later with a new ice cream cone. "Yeh lo. Tumhara ice cream toh khatam kar diya unhone."
Mariam laughed softly despite herself, taking the ice cream.
"Chalo, ab yeh chhodo. Main tumhe ghar drop kar deta hoon. Mera driver tumhari car sham tak repair karwa ke ghar pahucha dega," Rehaan said firmly.
Mariam hesitated but glanced at the darkening sky. She knew it wasn't safe to wait here any longer. "Okay," she agreed quietly.
As they got into Rehaan's car and drove onto the main road, Rehaan handed her his phone. "Apne parents ko phone karke bata do ki tum theek ho."
Mariam unlocked his phone, and her eyes immediately landed on a wallpaper of Rehaan cradling a small baby, a warm smile on his face. Her heart sank for a moment as she assumed he was married and had a child. Shaking off the thought, she quickly dialed her father.
"Papa... hello, As-Salaam-Alaikum," she said brightly. "Papa, don't worry, I'm coming home. My car broke down, but my professor is dropping me. I'll be there in a few minutes. Relax, okay?"
Rehaan couldn't help but smile at the softness in her voice as she spoke to her father. "You're very close to your dad, huh?" he asked when she ended the call.
"Hmm," Mariam replied, a small smile on her lips. "I'm their only child."
Rehaan nodded. "I see."
The rest of the drive was filled with light conversation. When they finally pulled into the grand driveway of Mariam's mansion, Rehaan's eyes widened slightly. "That's your house?"
Mariam shrugged. "Yes."
As she stepped out, her mother, Aroosh, came rushing out of the house, her face etched with worry. She hugged Mariam tightly, fussing over her and checking if she was hurt. Fateh joined them moments later, his expression softening when he saw Rehaan.
"Rehaan! What a surprise," Fateh exclaimed, pulling him into a warm hug.
"Sir, it's so good to see you again," Rehaan replied, greeting Aroosh politely as well.
Mariam, still confused, looked between them.
"Beta, Rehaan is the son of one of my oldest business partners," Fateh explained. "A wonderful man. I'm so glad to meet you again."
Aroosh, smiling, said, "Beta, dinner is ready. Please don't leave without eating something. You've done so much for our daughter today."
Rehaan hesitated. "Thank you, ma'am, but I can't. Actually, my mother recently had surgery, and my father isn't well either. I need to get back home."
Aroosh's face softened. "Of course, beta. But you must visit us again soon, okay?"
As Rehaan turned to leave, he paused for a moment to glance back at Mariam, his eyes scanning her as if to ensure she was truly okay. Mariam's heart fluttered at the intensity of his gaze.
"Take care," he said softly before getting into his car and driving away.
Here's a long, descriptive scene based on the details you provided:
The warm afternoon sun bathed the Khaild mansion in a golden glow, making the preparations underway inside even more radiant. Arushi bustled through the house, ensuring every last detail was perfect. The dining table was adorned with crisp white linens, a centerpiece of fresh marigolds, and the finest dinnerware. She glanced toward the clock, her heart fluttering with excitement. Today wasn't just any day—it was the day Saif was finally coming home. After weeks of uncertainty, he was healthy, and the family couldn't be happier. Yet, amidst the joy, there was one person completely oblivious to what awaited her upstairs: Mahnoor.
Mahnoor trudged downstairs, her hair still damp from the forced shower Arushi had insisted upon. She had been lazing in her room all morning, unaware of the hive of activity in the house.
"Mumma, yeh sab kya hai? Is someone coming today?" she asked, her brow furrowed as she took in the flurry of activity—the scent of freshly cooked biryani wafting through the air, the spotless floors gleaming, and the soft murmur of voices in the living room.
Arushi quickly hid her smile. "Bhai and Bhabhi are coming for lunch, that's it," she replied nonchalantly.
"Oh," Mahnoor muttered, grabbing a glass of water. She took a few sips and retreated back to her room, her curiosity seemingly satisfied.
As she disappeared up the stairs, Arushi exhaled deeply. "Phew," she murmured, allowing herself a moment of relief. Everything had to go perfectly.
Meanwhile, in Amir's car, the atmosphere was brimming with excitement. Amir was behind the wheel, Soha seated beside him, and Saif sat in the back with Aarzoo, his hand resting on a small travel pillow to support his still-healing arm.
As they neared a vibrant flower shop, Saif tapped Amir on the shoulder. "Stop here," he said, a determined glint in his eye.
"Bhai, kaunsa laun?" Aarzoo asked, her hand already reaching for the car door handle.
"Bacha, you sit and relax. I'll get it," Saif replied, flashing her a smile. He stepped out of the car, his figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the bustling street.
From the window, Amir leaned his head back and smirked. "Damn, I've never seen this lover-boy side of him before."
Aarzoo giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "That's because aapne kabhi notice nahi kiya tha, bhai. He's always been like this around her—the sweetest, the most caring, the happiest. Honestly, they deserve each other. I can't wait for them to officially be together."
As she spoke, Soha blushed fiercely, her hands fiddling with her scarf. "Shit," she thought. "From today, everything will be back to normal. I'll officially be Amir's wife now."
Saif returned a few moments later, a bouquet in hand—a stunning arrangement of lilies, roses, and sunflowers. He held it up for their approval.
"How do these look?" he asked, sliding back into the car.
"Perfect," Soha said with a smile. "She'll love it. Though," she added with a teasing glint, "she might cry. And she'll definitely be a little mad at all of us for hiding your recovery."
They all laughed, the car now filled with lighthearted banter as they continued on their way.
The Khaild mansion was alive with anticipation. The moment Amir's car horn sounded outside, Arushi practically flew out of the kitchen, her apron flapping as she rushed to the door.
"Omg, mera bacha!" Ayesha exclaimed, hurrying to embrace Saif the moment he stepped out. Her arms enveloped him in a tight hug, and Saif smiled, leaning into his mother's embrace.
After greeting his father and exchanging warm words, Saif turned to Arushi and Mezaan. "Asalam Alaikum, Mami, Mama. I've missed you all," he said, his dimples flashing as he smiled.
"We've missed you too, beta," Arushi said, her voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."
"MAHNOOR, NICHE AAO! ADAM BHAI AUR BHABHI AAYE HAIN!" Arushi called, her voice echoing up the stairs.
"Coming!" Mahnoor replied, her voice muffled from behind her door. She shuffled downstairs a few moments later, her movements sluggish, her thoughts still miles away.
In the living room, Saif stood in the center, flanked by Amir and Aarzoo, his bouquet hidden behind his back.
"Asalam Alaikum, Mama," Mahnoor began, moving to hug Ayesha. "Aap kaisi hain? Salam, Mami—" She stopped mid-sentence as a familiar voice interrupted her.
"Arey, mujhe se mile bina hi ja rahi ho kya?"
Mahnoor froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she slowly turned, her eyes widening in disbelief. There he was—Saif, standing tall and healthy, a mischievous smile on his face. Her hands flew to her mouth as tears began streaming down her cheeks.
Aarzoo and Amir stepped aside, revealing the bouquet Saif was holding.
"Arrey, kyun ro rahi ho? Main yahaan hoon na, tumhare paas. See? I'm all fine," he said softly, his dimples deepening as he smiled.
Mahnoor couldn't contain herself. She broke into a sprint, closing the distance between them in seconds and throwing her arms around him.
"Uff, aram se, Maha!" Arushi laughed, watching her daughter cling to Saif as if her life depended on it.
"Tumhe pata bhi hai, maine tumhe khone ke darr mein har ek pal kaise guzara... Bas tumhare jaagne ka intezaar kar rahi thi," Mahnoor sobbed into his shoulder, her words barely audible.
Saif chuckled, his hands gently rubbing her back. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
Their heartfelt moment was interrupted by the sound of exaggerated coughing. The room burst into laughter, causing Mahnoor to pull away, her face now a deep shade of red.
"Yeh kab hua?" she asked, wiping her tears as Saif handed her the bouquet.
"Do din pehle," he admitted sheepishly. "I asked them not to tell you."
"Kamine!" she exclaimed, smacking his arm lightly. "Meri yahan halat kharab ho rahi thi."
Everyone laughed again, their hearts lighter than they'd been in weeks. The family moved to the dining room, where a feast awaited them, the air thick with the warmth of love and reunion.
For the first time in weeks, everything felt right.
The living room was alive with the clinking of plates and the aroma of freshly made biryani, mixed with the hum of laughter and conversation. The family had gathered around the dining table, which was laden with food—platters of kebabs, steaming curries, naan, and biryani. It was a feast befitting the joy of Saif's recovery and his much-anticipated return home.
Mezaan leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face as he spooned another helping of biryani onto his plate. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he turned toward Adam, his tone casual yet laced with purpose.
"Bhai Saab, since sab ab theek hai... Main soch raha tha ki hum Mahnoor aur Saif & Amir aur Soha ki shaadi ke baare mein sochein. Aapko toh pata hai, Amir aur Soha ka nikkah hogaya hai. So, I was thinking... hum Mahnoor aur Saif ka bhi karwade," he said, glancing between Adam and Arushi as he spoke.
The suggestion seemed to land like a small ripple in the otherwise lively gathering. Saif, who had been mid-bite, froze for a second, his eyes instinctively darting toward Mahnoor. She, in turn, avoided his gaze, her cheeks flushed as she pretended to focus on the piece of kebab on her plate. Amir, on the other hand, was already staring at Soha, who seemed deeply invested in the biryani on her plate, refusing to meet his eyes. Her head was bent low, her soft, wavy hair falling like a curtain across her face.
Sitting between Mahnoor and Amir, Aarzoo couldn't help but grin mischievously. Nudging Mahnoor with her elbow, she whispered teasingly, "Oho, shaadi ki baatein sunte hi sharma gayi? Waise, Saif bhai toh dekhte hi nahi thak rahe." She giggled, and Mahnoor shot her a glare, her lips pressed tightly together as if to suppress a retort.
Not stopping there, Aarzoo leaned toward Amir. "Aur Soha bhabhi ka kya haal hai? Itni sharmai hui kyun lag rahi hain? Amir bhai toh bas...," she wiggled her eyebrows, earning a soft laugh from Amir, who was trying hard to look composed.
Adam, sitting at the head of the table, cleared his throat, his authoritative voice cutting through the playful tension. "Zaroor, zaroor," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "Lekin main chahunga ki Soha ki rukhsati jald se jald hojaye. Fir uske baad hum Mahnoor aur Saif ki shaadi ka intezam karenge."
At the mention of her rukhsati, Soha finally looked up, her wide, tear-filled eyes finding her father. The mere thought of leaving her childhood home and stepping fully into her new life with Amir overwhelmed her. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling, but the tears in her eyes betrayed her emotions.
Amir noticed immediately. Sitting beside her, he reached under the table and took her hand gently in his own. His grip was warm and reassuring, silently telling her: I'm here. You'll be fine. We'll do this together. Soha glanced at him briefly, her gaze meeting his for just a moment, and his calm, steady eyes worked their magic. She exhaled softly and nodded almost imperceptibly, trying to calm herself.
Arushi, ever the gracious host, quickly responded to Adam, her voice carrying a mix of emotion and excitement. "In Sha Allah, bhai. Humara bhi yahi irada hai. Jaldi se jaldi apni beti ko apne ghar le jayein." She paused, her smile softening. "Aur fir Mahnoor aur Saif ka bhi. Yeh dono ghar ke rone lagte hain jab ek din ke liye bhi door hote hain. Unki shaadi ke baad toh khushi hi khushi hogi." Her words drew a round of chuckles from the family, and even Mahnoor smiled shyly, though she tried to hide it.
It didn't take long for everyone to reach an agreement. After a few more minutes of lively discussion, it was decided: Soha and Amir's wedding week would begin in three weeks, filled with ceremonies, laughter, and celebration. One week after that, Mahnoor and Saif's wedding festivities would follow. The announcements filled the room with renewed energy, everyone excitedly throwing out ideas for the arrangements—who would handle the guest lists, where the events would be held, and even what the brides and grooms might wear.
Despite the cheerful discussions, Soha's mind lingered on her father's words. Her chest felt tight, her emotions threatening to spill again. Amir, sensing her unease, subtly squeezed her hand beneath the table. Without a word, his small gesture grounded her, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this new chapter.
As the evening wore on, the chatter grew even more animated. Mahnoor was mercilessly teased by Aarzoo about her nervous expression, and Saif couldn
Thank you for clarifying! Let me rework the scene to reflect Soha's emotions and her internal conflict about her father's behavior.
Lunch had finished, and the family gathered around the living room, chatting and laughing as plates were cleared away. But Arushi's sharp eyes noticed Soha's face—silent, withdrawn, and unusually distant. While everyone else was basking in the warmth of togetherness, Soha's small, forced smiles and downcast eyes betrayed her unease. She had barely eaten, the corners of her plate untouched.
Arushi, ever the observant mother ka phuphu, knew what was troubling her. Adam's earlier words about rushing her rukhsati, spoken without any warmth or affection, had clearly wounded Soha. She had been trying to keep her composure, but the quiet fidgeting with her dupatta and her refusal to meet anyone's eyes said more than words ever could.
Arushi set her cup down and looked at Amir, who was speaking to Saif. "Amir beta," she called, her voice calm but with a deliberate undertone.
Amir looked up immediately, his attention shifting to her. "Ji, Ammi?"
"There are soda cans in the backyard fridge. Bring them for everyone, please. Haan, Soha, tum bhi chale jao, help kar dena."
Soha hesitated, her fingers clenching her dupatta tighter, but she nodded obediently and followed Amir out of the room, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Amir had noticed her silence throughout lunch, and now, as they walked side by side, her unease was almost tangible. She wasn't just quiet—she was hurting. When they reached the door to the backyard, Amir suddenly stopped and turned to her.
"Soha," he said softly.
She paused, startled, and looked up at him. "Ji?"
Without saying another word, Amir gently took her hand and led her away from the backyard. Instead of heading to the fridge, he guided her upstairs to his room. Once inside, he shut the door behind them and walked her into the bathroom.
Amir turned on the light and gestured toward the marble slab by the sink. "Baitho," he said, his tone gentle but firm.
Soha blinked at him, confused. "Amir... hum yahan kyun aaye hain? Soda toh—"
"Leave the soda for now," he interrupted, guiding her to sit on the slab. She hesitated but complied, perching on the edge and looking at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
"Kya baat hai, Soha?" he asked, leaning against the counter beside her, his arms crossed. "Mujhe mat bolo ki sab theek hai. Mujhe pata hai, tumhare abu ki baat tumhe takleef de rahi hai."
Her lips parted, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. She looked down, her fingers fiddling nervously with the corner of her dupatta again. "Main... main bas yeh soch rahi thi ke... unhone aise kyun bola," she admitted in a small voice.
Amir tilted his head, silently urging her to continue.
Soha swallowed hard, her voice shaking as she spoke. "Amir, main kabhi unki favorite nahi ban payi. Main har waqt try karti hoon... unki baatein suno, unko khush rakho. Lekin woh... woh kabhi khush nahi lagte. Jab unhone kaha ki woh meri rukhsati jaldi karna chahte hain, mujhe laga... shayad woh mujhse chutkara chahte hain."
Her voice cracked, and Amir's chest tightened at the sight of her holding back tears. He moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Soha," he began softly, "tumhare abu jo bhi bolte hain, woh unke words hain. Lekin tumhari value... tumhare worth... woh kisi ke words define nahi kar sakte."
She shook her head, her tears now spilling over despite her efforts to contain them. "Main toh bas yeh chahti thi ke woh mujhse pyaar karein. Baaki sab ke saath toh woh theek hain, lekin mere saath... kyun nahi?"
Amir's heart ached at her vulnerability. He crouched in front of her so they were at eye level. "Soha, tumhare abu ka behavior unka problem hai, tumhara nahi. Tum jitni bhi amazing ho, unka attitude badalna tumhare haath mein nahi hai. Lekin tumhare liye ek baat zaruri hai: tumhe apne aapko blame karna band karna hoga."
Soha wiped her tears, sniffling as she tried to process his words. "Par agar woh mujhse pyaar nahi karte, toh main kya karoon?"
Amir reached up, gently taking her hands in his. "Pyaar ki zarurat hai, Soha, aur woh tumhe milega. Tumhare abu se nahi toh tumhari ammi se, tumhare bhai-behen se, aur sabse zyada... mujhse." His voice softened further as he added, "Main tumhare liye hamesha hoon. Tum jitni chaaho, utni baatein karo, utne aansoo bahao, aur jitni der lage, lekin ek baat yaad rakhna: tum kabhi akeli nahi ho. Main tumhe apni family ka ek hissa banane ke liye excited hoon, aur tumhare abu ka opinion usse badal nahi sakta."
His words hit her like a warm embrace, and for the first time that day, the ache in her chest loosened just a little. Soha looked at him with teary eyes,
but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips now. "Tumhe pata hai, tumhari baatein hamesha mujhe better feel karwati hain," she murmured.
Amir grinned, his dimples deepening. "Mujhe pata hai. It's my special talent," he joked, earning a soft laugh from her. Gently, he leaned in and parted her knees, stepping between them as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her heart skipped a beat at the proximity. This wasn't unusual—they had shared close moments before—but there was something different about the way he looked at her now, his gaze tender yet determined.
"Amir, tum... kya kar rahe ho?" she asked again, her voice trembling slightly.
"Shh," he murmured, holding the warm towel up. "Bas tumhari ruined makeup theek kar raha hoon. Mujhe pasand nahi hai jab tumhari yeh pyaare aankhe mascara ke wahaj se khrab hojate hai "
Without waiting for her permission, he began dabbing at her cheeks and under her eyes, his touch impossibly gentle. The warmth of the towel soothed her skin, but it was his nearness—the soft scent of his cologne, the way his fingers grazed her jawline—that sent her heart racing.
She blinked up at him, her eyes flickering over his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the faint stubble that gave him a rugged edge, the curve of his lips. Slowly, almost without thinking, her hands moved to clutch his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric.
He noticed her movements but didn't pull away. Instead, he continued his task, wiping away the last traces of her ruined mascara. Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed against her cheekbone, his eyes focused entirely on her.
"Amir," she whispered, her voice faltering.
"Haan?" he asked, his tone low, almost soothing.
"Can... can you kiss me?" she asked, her voice barely audible as she leaned closer, her lips just inches away from his.
Her question caught him off guard, his dark eyes widening slightly. For a moment, the air between them grew still, heavy with anticipation. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips as he leaned in, his voice a soft murmur. "I'm all yours, sweetheart. Go ahead."
Before he could say more, Soha closed the distance between them, her lips claiming his in a kiss that was both hesitant and hungry. Her hands moved instinctively, sliding up to his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss.
Amir groaned softly against her mouth, his hands gripping the edge of the slab on either side of her, anchoring himself as her legs wrapped around his torso. The warmth of her touch, the urgency in the way she held him—it was intoxicating.
He kissed her back with equal fervor, his lips moving in sync with hers, but soon his lips left hers, trailing down to the soft curve of her neck. He pressed a series of lingering kisses there, his breath warm against her skin.
"Amir," she whispered breathlessly, her fingers tugging at his hair.
"Hmm?" he replied, his lips still grazing her neck, pausing to kiss the faint beauty marks he had always adored.
She let out a soft, involuntary moan, pushing him closer, her body arching instinctively toward his. But just as the tension threatened to spiral out of control, Amir suddenly pulled back, his breathing uneven.
"Soha," he said, his voice husky but firm. "We need to stop."
She looked at him, dazed, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen. "Kyun?" she asked, almost pouting.
He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Kyunki agar hum ab neeche nahi gaye, toh sab sochenge hum fridge mein camping kar rahe hain. Aur mujhe tumhari izzat ka khayal hai."
Soha blinked, her lips twitching into a shy smile as his words registered. "Tum... hamesha itne thoughtful kyun hote ho?"
"Because I'm Amir," he teased, offering her his hand.
She laughed softly, sliding off the slab and taking his hand. While Amir fixed his shirt and smoothed down his hair, Soha turned to the mirror, quickly reapplying her lipstick and dabbing some powder on her flushed cheeks. The red hue refused to leave her skin, though, and she knew it had little to do with makeup.
When they stepped back into the dining room carrying the tray of soda cans, all eyes turned to them. Arushi's gaze lingered on them briefly, her knowing smile barely hidden as she accepted a can from Amir.
Soha took her seat beside Amir, her heart still fluttering from their intimate moment. But for the first time that day, she felt lighter, more at peace. Her father's harsh words still lingered in her mind, but Amir's unwavering support and their shared moment of closeness had reminded her that she wasn't alone.
As the family's laughter and chatter resumed, Soha glanced at Amir out of the corner of her eye. He was talking to Saif, his expression animated, but when he caught her looking, he gave her a small, secret smile—the kind of smile that said he understood her completely, even without talking to her much ..
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