Adiya's hands trembled as she adjusted the napkin on her lap for the third time. The café buzzed with soft chatter and the clinking of cutlery, but the sound seemed muted compared to the storm of thoughts swirling in her head. She sat across from Soha and Zainab, her two best friends, who looked at her expectantly. Their faces, so familiar and comforting, were laced with curiosity and concern.

"Alright, spill," Zainab said, leaning forward, her dark eyes narrowing. "What's going on? Everything okay, sweetie?"

Adiya hesitated, biting her lip. She had rehearsed this moment a dozen times in her head, but now, with their gazes locked on her, she felt a knot tighten in her chest. "It's good news," she said softly, her voice wavering. "But maybe bad for you guys... probably."

Zainab furrowed her brows. "Good news but bad for us? Adu, just get to the point!"

Soha crossed her arms, her commanding tone cutting through Adiya's hesitation. "Adu, point pe aa."

Adiya exhaled sharply, deciding to just rip the Band-Aid off. "I'm getting married."

The words hung in the air for a beat before both of them erupted. Zainab's hands slammed on the table, her voice rising. "What the—getting married? What do you mean you're getting married?"

"Are you serious?" Soha asked, her tone sharp but her expression unreadable. "Like... today? Tomorrow? What?"

Adiya raised her hands, trying to calm them down. "Look, I just found out today too! This is just how the Rajput family works, okay? Even bhai didn't know Mahima bhabhi before they got married. It's... it's tradition, I guess."

Zainab's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Tradition? That's your explanation? You're seriously telling me that you're marrying some random guy because 'that's how it works'?"

Soha, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. Her tone had softened, catching Adiya off guard. "You know, Adiya, I'm actually happy for you."

Adiya blinked. "You are?"

"Yeah," Soha said, her voice steadier now, though there was a glint of something vulnerable in her eyes. "At first, I was freaking out because this sounds insane. But... sometimes these sudden marriages work out. They take time to understand, but they can surprise you."

Adiya tilted her head, studying Soha's expression. "Wait... are you okay? You don't usually get emotional like this."

Zainab cut in, her tone laced with suspicion. "Yeah, what's going on with you, Soha? Everything okay with Amir?"

Soha hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup. Her usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced with something softer, almost hesitant. "Everything's fine with Amir," she began, her voice quiet. "I just... hate that we got married the way we did. This isn't how I wanted it. I mean, he's my enemy—the guy I've hated since childhood because he stuck gum in my hair, for crying out loud."

Adiya and Zainab exchanged glances, their expressions caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. Soha continued, her voice growing steadier as she spoke.

"But... I don't hate that I married him," she admitted. "At first, I thought I'd end it. I told myself I'd leave once Mum got better. But now... I don't want to. He's done so much for me—things I didn't even think a lover would do. He cared for me when I needed it most. He prayed for me, for my family, for my brother. Who does that?"

There was a lump forming in Adiya's throat as she listened. This wasn't the Soha she knew—the fiery, unapologetic Soha who had always been so sure of everything. This was someone different, someone deeply vulnerable.

"I think I was searching for my father's love in all the wrong places," Soha continued, her eyes glistening now. "That's why I kept getting hurt. But for the first time, I feel like I'm finally learning what love really is."

Adiya leaned forward, her heart clenching at the raw emotion in Soha's words. "Wait... are you saying you like Amir bhai?"

Soha looked up, her gaze meeting Adiya's. "Maybe. I don't know yet. But I do know this: I don't hate him. I never did, probably. And after everything... I think I could love him."

Zainab, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke, her voice soft. "Soha, are you serious? You're actually considering this? I mean, he sounds amazing, but... this is so sudden."

Soha gave a small, wistful smile. "It's not about how sudden it is. It's about how he makes me feel. Respect, care, love... those are things I've always wanted. And he gives me all of that, even when he doesn't say it outright."

Adiya sighed, a dreamy look crossing her face. "Haye, bas ese hi ladka mile mujhe bhi. A guy who prays for me? Who cares like that? That's the dream."

Soha rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of a smile on her lips. "Adu, focus on your own sudden marriage first."

Zainab shook her head, laughing despite herself. "This café meeting turned into a full-blown emotional therapy session. I swear, only we could make an announcement like this so dramatic."

The three of them laughed then, the tension easing as they fell into their usual rhythm. But even as they joked and teased each other, Adiya couldn't shake the warmth in her chest. Whatever was ahead, she knew she wasn't alone—not with Soha and Zainab by her side.

The clock struck eight, and the publishing house hummed with the lively buzz of chatter and clinking glasses. The warm, golden glow of the chandeliers above contrasted the cold flutter of nerves in my chest as I stood near the entrance, my eyes darting anxiously towards the door. I was waiting for Aarzoo. And Tamana, of course. But mostly Aarzoo. No, not mostly. Shut up, Abeer. Stop thinking about her.

My foot tapped against the polished wooden floor as I tried to appear indifferent, but my thoughts betrayed me. Suddenly, Kabir made his entrance, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. My stomach sank. Not today, I thought. Please, no drama tonight.

He strode towards me, his sharp gaze pinning me to the spot. "Don't worry," he said, his tone clipped, "I keep my professional and personal life separate. You won't see me close to either you or Tamana."

And just like that, he walked away, leaving me both relieved and irritated. What happened between him and Tamana? The question buzzed in my mind like an annoying fly. He wouldn't tell me, of course. He hated me.

I was still lost in my thoughts when a subtle, familiar fragrance tickled my senses. It was soft yet heady, a mix of rose petals on a dewy morning and a faint hint of sandalwood. The smell wrapped around me like a memory, pulling me out of my trance.

"Aarzoo," I whispered, her name slipping out before I could stop it.

"Hey, Abeer," came Tamana's teasing voice instead. She had caught the look on my face—dammit. Her smile was too knowing, too smug. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to act normal.

"Hello, Tamana. How are you?" I replied, my voice casual, though my gaze was anything but. My eyes remained locked on Aarzoo as she stepped into the room.

And there she was. Wearing... a saree? My heart stumbled. A white saree—or wait—no, it wasn't plain white. It was swan white, an ethereal shade with subtle beige embellishments that shimmered faintly under the warm lights. The fabric draped over her like a whisper, hugging her frame delicately and cascading down like a waterfall. The intricate gold embroidery along the edges sparkled with every movement, catching the light like tiny stars. The pallu rested gracefully over her shoulder, its threads of gold weaving stories of elegance.

Her long hair was left loose, tumbling in soft waves down her back. A single jasmine tucked behind her ear added a touch of innocence, contrasting the bold kajal that framed her eyes. Those eyes—large, almond-shaped, and impossibly deep—seemed to hold the mysteries of the universe, glinting with mischief as she spoke softly to Tamana. A pair of delicate jhumkas swayed gently with her every turn, catching the light and my attention.

She looked like a vision. No, not just a vision—a hoor pari. Otherworldly. Serene. She didn't belong to the chaos of this room; she was too radiant for it, like a fleeting dream you're scared to touch in case it vanishes.

"Hmm, yes... enjoy your party, ladies," I mumbled, trying to tear my gaze away. My chest tightened as I realised I was staring too much—again.

"Woh aap na bolte toh bhi karte," Aarzoo quipped as she walked past me, her voice lilting with humour. Her words weren't anything special, but the way she said them left a warmth spreading across my chest.

Tamana laughed, clearly enjoying my misery, and I fled to the bar before I made a bigger fool of myself.

I didn't come here to drink; I needed to compose myself. The bartender raised a questioning brow, but I waved him off. Before I could gather my thoughts, Kabir was there, leaning against the counter like he owned the place.

"You like her, don't you?" he said, smirking.

"No, I don't," I shot back, my voice unsteady.

"Chal, jhoota. It's obvious to everyone, even her. The way you stare at her like she's the only person in the room. The way your voice softens when you talk to her. It's almost embarrassing, mate." He slid a glass of whiskey towards me, his smirk deepening.

"She's my best friend's sister. That's all," I said quickly, avoiding his eyes. The words felt hollow even to me.

"Sure, sure," he muttered sarcastically. "If that helps you sleep at night." Then he walked away—towards her. My pulse quickened as I watched him approach Aarzoo. She frowned at first, clearly irritated by whatever he was saying, but then he showed her something on his phone. Her expression softened as she replied, her voice too low for me to hear.

"Stop staring at my best friend like that," Tamana's voice cut through my thoughts. She joined me at the bar, ordering a glass of wine.

"I'm not staring," I protested, but my eyes betrayed me, still fixed on Aarzoo.

"Hmmm. The white saree looks kind of pale on her," Tamana said casually, sipping her wine.

"It's not white," I said automatically. "It's swan white with beige embellishments. And it doesn't look pale on her—it makes her look like a hoor pari. The goldwork complements her skin tone perfectly, and the way it drapes—"

I froze mid-sentence as Tamana's grin widened. She had trapped me.

"Well, I got my answer. Enjoy the party, Abeer." She walked off, calling Aarzoo over.

"Wait—what just happened?" I muttered, panic flooding my chest. Oh God. She knows. She definitely knows. Abeer, you're such a dumby.

The air was heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and freshly polished wood as I stepped out of the car and into the parking lot. My personal assistant, Andrew, hovered nervously beside me, his brow creased with worry.

"Sir, you don't have to go there if you don't want to, you know," he said tentatively, his tone betraying his concern.

I straightened the cuffs of my tailored suit, a deep charcoal-grey that reflected the dim light of the evening. "Andrew, I'm going there for myself and no one else," I replied evenly, locking eyes with him. "The only reason I joined this damn film was because of her. I'll take any chance I can get to fix what we had." My voice was firmer than I felt, but tonight wasn't about hesitation or regret. It was about taking a step forward, however messy.

As we entered the buzzing space of Abeer's publishing house party, the low hum of laughter, clinking glasses, and muffled conversations swirled around us. The room was decorated in warm, understated tones—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, golden fairy lights strung across high ceilings, and polished wooden floors that gleamed underfoot. The scent of aged paper mingled with that of rich wine.

I spotted Abeer almost immediately, pacing near the entrance with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His head snapped up the moment he saw me, his entire face going pale. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights. The faint flicker of panic in his eyes was almost amusing. Of course, he'd think I was here to cause trouble after the fiasco at yesterday's meeting.

Before he could stutter out some weak protest or attempt to smooth things over, I walked straight past him. I let my eyes sweep over him briefly and said in a low voice, "Don't worry, Abeer. I'm not here to create drama. I'll stay away from you and Tamanna."

I didn't wait for a response. His opinion didn't matter to me. None of it mattered. I wasn't here to play social games or nurse egos. I was here for her.

Heading to the bar, I nodded at the bartender for a glass of whiskey and leaned against the counter, letting the burn of the amber liquid steady me. The party continued around me—authors, editors, actors, and their plus-ones laughing and mingling—but it was all a blur. I wasn't interested in anyone else. My focus was singular.

Then she walked in.

My breath caught, and my hand froze halfway to my lips. She was wearing a black, sleek saree, the kind of fabric that clung to every curve, shimmering under the soft light like liquid ink. The blouse was barely there, the delicate straps caressing her shoulders, leaving her back exposed in the most maddening way. The saree hugged her waist, the pleats falling just right to tease and reveal her silhouette with every step she took. Her hair was swept over one shoulder in loose waves, cascading like a dark waterfall. A pair of silver jhumkas dangled from her ears, brushing against her skin as she turned her head to greet someone.

Her makeup was subtle but devastatingly effective—a sweep of black liner accentuating those large, expressive eyes that once used to look at me with nothing but trust and love. Her lips were painted a deep red, the kind that could stop traffic. She was radiant, ethereal, but also so heartbreakingly real.

I gripped the glass tighter, my knuckles whitening as I watched her laugh, her head tilting back slightly, the sound carrying across the room even above the chatter. She had that light around her tonight, the kind that made it impossible to look away. And yet, she wasn't alone.

My jaw tightened as I saw her speaking to Abeer, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that twisted something sharp and ugly in my chest. Did she like him? Was that why she was laughing so freely? The way her hand rested lightly on his arm as she spoke—it was the kind of easy intimacy I hadn't seen from her in a long time.

Did she look at him the way she used to look at me?

I swallowed the rest of my whiskey in one go, the fire in my throat no match for the one burning in my chest. The urge to march over there, to demand answers, was almost overwhelming. But no—I clenched my fists and forced myself to stay put. This wasn't the time. I had to be patient.

I wasn't here to create a scene. I was here for her. And no matter what it took, I'd find a way to fix the misunderstandings between us. Even if it killed me to see her like this, glowing and laughing with someone else..

The room brimmed with the hum of muted chatter, clinking glasses, and bursts of laughter as I stood at the bar, nursing my whiskey. The crowd was as lively as ever, the kind of crowd where everyone knew everyone—or pretended to. My mind, however, wasn't on them. It was spinning, piecing together the complicated web of glances, smiles, and tension I'd seen tonight.

Abeer stood in the corner, clearly trying to blend into the walls, but his restless energy betrayed him. His eyes flickered, not with fear or anger, but with something that looked suspiciously like longing. And they weren't flickering towards Tamanna—they were fixed solely on Aarzoo.

It hit me then, the way the puzzle pieces slotted into place: the blush creeping up his neck whenever she looked his way, the nervous tapping of his foot as she talked to someone else, his shoulders stiff with attention every time she laughed.

"Wait," I muttered under my breath, swirling the whiskey in my glass, "does he like Aarzoo?" My eyebrows furrowed, and I let my gaze shift between them. Was I wrong all along? Did I misinterpret everything? Was he acting like this because of Tamanna, or was Aarzoo the one stirring him up?

Before I could fully untangle my thoughts, the answer walked straight towards me—though I doubted he even saw me. Abeer's gaze was locked in a daze, his lips pressed into a firm line. His steps were quick, almost determined, but his mind was somewhere else.

I straightened up and smirked, my curiosity getting the better of me. "You like her, don't you?" I said suddenly, my voice laced with amusement.

Abeer froze mid-step. His head snapped up, and his expression was priceless—his usual confidence replaced by something between shock and panic. "No, I don't," he shot back immediately, though his voice cracked on the word don't.

I chuckled, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow. "Chal, jhoota. You're fooling no one, mate. It's obvious to everyone—even her." I let the smirk deepen as I added, "The way you stare at her like she's the only person in the room? The way your voice softens whenever you talk to her? It's bloody embarrassing."

"Shut up," he snapped, his voice low but shaky. His hands were shoved into his pockets now, his shoulders tight. "She's my best friend's sister. That's all."

"Oh, that's all?" I mocked, swirling the whiskey in my glass again. I watched him squirm under my pointed gaze. "Sure, sure. If that helps you sleep at night."

He didn't say anything this time, just clenched his jaw and looked away. I rolled my eyes and left him standing there, frozen like a statue, as I turned my attention to Aarzoo.

She stood a few feet away, just finishing up a conversation with someone. The second she noticed me walking towards her, her expression hardened like clockwork. Her arms crossed over her chest as she gave me the same glare she always reserved for me, the one that screamed, Stay away from Tamanna.

"Here we go," I muttered under my breath before speaking louder. "Can you goddamn listen to me for once?"

She opened her mouth, but I cut her off, holding up a hand. "Just once, okay? I promise, if you think what I'm about to say is ridiculous, I'll never show my face to you—or Tamanna—again."

Her expression wavered slightly, curiosity mingling with scepticism. "Fine," she said sharply, her tone not nearly as confident as usual.

"Come on." I motioned for her to follow me to a quieter corner of the room, away from the sea of noise. She hesitated but eventually followed, her arms still crossed protectively.

Once we were far enough from prying eyes, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the proof I'd brought with me—the evidence that cleared my name. Her eyes narrowed at first, but as she scanned the papers, her expression changed. Shock flashed across her face, followed by hesitation, and then... guilt?

"Wait," she whispered, looking up at me with wide eyes. "So... you're innocent?"

"Yeah," I said simply, though the bitterness in my tone betrayed how much those accusations had hurt. "But you both didn't believe me when it mattered."

She winced slightly, guilt flickering again, but she quickly masked it with a defensive tone. "That doesn't mean you can just waltz back into Tamanna's life like nothing happened." Her arms crossed tighter, and she pouted, a small frown tugging at her lips. She was clearly protective of her best friend—almost too much.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I don't plan to. I know I have to earn it. I'll win her respect back first, then her trust, and then maybe... her love."

Aarzoo studied me for a long moment, her gaze sharp and calculating, as though she was trying to determine if I was being sincere. Finally, she gave a small nod. "Cool. But don't you dare hurt her again," she said, her tone dropping to a low, threatening whisper. "If you do, woh ghuroone waale ke saath zameen ke andar buried kardungi."

I laughed, unable to help myself. Her dramatics were oddly endearing, even when they were aimed at me. She turned on her heel to leave, but I quickly grabbed her arm—not roughly, just enough to stop her.

"Wait," I said, grinning at her glare. "To win her back, you're going to help me."

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly before curling into a confused, annoyed frown. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I said smoothly. "I can't do this alone. You'll convince her—or at least make sure we're in situations where we have to spend time together. You don't have to do much else. I'll handle the rest."

She groaned, rubbing her temples like I was the biggest headache of her life. "Fine!" she snapped eventually, glaring at me. "But under my supervision, got it? And if you mess this up—"

"I know, I know. Zameen ke andar buried," I said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes and muttered something about how infuriating I was before walking off. I couldn't help but chuckle as I turned back towards the bar, feeling a small flicker of hope for the first time in weeks.

I was halfway through grabbing my drink when I noticed Abeer again. His eyes were darting nervously towards Aarzoo, his hands fidgeting like he couldn't decide what to do next.

I smirked, raising my glass. "Chill, dude. Teri hi hai. I'm not stealing her."

Abeer groaned, rubbing his temple in frustration, before storming off in the opposite direction. I chuckled quietly to myself, shaking my head.

This was going to be interesting. Very, very interesting.

The moment I walked into Azaan bhai's office building, I could feel my temper simmering. My mood? Ruined. Courtesy of Mumma and Papa.

"Yaar, ek toh yeh Mumma Papa bhi na...," I muttered under my breath, gripping the tiffin box tightly. "Beta, jaao Sahiba ko lunch de ke aao." Haan, kyun na? Main toh bas inka courier service hoon! Aur woh Sahiba? Mahirani hogayi apne ghar par mein kyu usske kam karun ! Ab woh budha bhi samne aayega aur mujhe lecture bhi milega. Uff, khudaya!"

I was mid-rant, fuming at the injustice of it all, when someone cleared their throat behind me.

"Fiza," came the familiar deep, measured voice. Oh, great. The oldie himself. "Aap yahan kya kar rahi ho?"

My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around slowly, caught like a kid with their hand in the biscuit jar. "Budhe—" I started, then quickly corrected myself. "I mean, Azaan bhai . I'm here to give food to Sahiba... since that maharani cannot bother to bring her own food." I tried to grin, but his raised eyebrow told me he wasn't buying it.

He gave me that disapproving Azaan Asad Khanzada look, the one that made me feel like a rebellious schoolgirl. "She's in a meeting right now," he said, nodding towards the conference room. "You can sit in my office till she's free."

He turned and started walking, and I followed reluctantly. The last thing I wanted was to be alone in his boring, uptight office. When we entered, he gestured to the plush sofa opposite his desk. I slumped into it, my mood darkening further.

As he settled into his chair, he broke the silence. "By the way," he said casually, his tone annoyingly calm, "I'm just 30 years old, you know."

I froze. Oh, no. Shit. He heard.

I gave him an innocent smile, leaning forward slightly. "But Azaan, aap fir bhi mujhe bohot bade lagte ho."

His eyes narrowed. "That doesn't mean you go around calling me budha, Fiza."

The way he said my name – clipped, irritated – made me bite back a laugh. This was going to be fun. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. "Acha? Toh kya bulaoon? Uncle?"

"Uncle?!" His face scrunched up like I'd insulted his entire lineage. "Fiza, I'm not even that much older than you! Don't you dare call me uncle!"

"Then don't act like one," I shot back. "God, Azaan bhai , you're like a living rulebook. Don't sit like that, Fiza. Don't talk so loudly, Fiza. Don't call me budha, Fiza." I mimicked his tone, rolling my eyes dramatically.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if I were a headache he desperately wanted to cure. "I don't know how arhaan deals with you," he muttered.

"Well, maybe because he's not boring," I quipped, grinning. "Unlike you. Seriously, Azaan bhai , do you ever, like, laugh? Or do you just sit here, brooding, waiting for someone to mess up so you can lecture them?"

"Excuse me, I laugh!" he retorted, clearly offended.

I snorted. "Really? When? During tax season?"

He glared at me, his lips twitching like he was fighting the urge to smile. "For your information, Fiza, I laugh at plenty of things. Just not at you. Because you're not funny."

"Oh, I'm hilarious," I said, leaning back and crossing my legs. "You're just too grumpy to appreciate good humour. Honestly, Azaan bhai, do you ever loosen that tie? Or does it stay on 24/7? What do you do for fun? Watch paint dry?"

"Fiza," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "I'd appreciate it if you stopped making assumptions about my life."

"And I'd appreciate it if you stopped being so uptight," I shot back.

"I'm not uptight!"

"Yes, you are!"

"I'm professional!"

"Professional?!" I let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, please! You're about as fun as a spreadsheet!"

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, the door swung open, and Sahiba walked in. She froze, her eyes darting between me and Azaan, who was now pinching the bridge of his nose like he was seconds away from throwing me out the window.

"Am I... interrupting something?" Sahiba asked hesitantly, clearly unsure whether to laugh or run away or probably get jealous?

I turned to her, my grin widening. "No, no. Just giving Mr Professional oldie here a much-needed personality check."

Azaan shot me a warning look, but I ignored it.

Sahiba sighed, shaking her head as she set her files on the desk. "Fiza, why do you insist on provoking him every time you meet?"

"Because it's fun," I replied cheerfully. "And he needs it. Imagine what a boring world this would be if we all acted like him."

"Fiza," Azaan bhai said warningly, but his voice lacked its usual sharpness. I could tell I'd won this round.

Sahiba rolled her eyes and sat down, muttering under her breath, "I swear, I can't leave either of you alone."

And just like that, my bad mood vanished. Nothing brightened my day quite like driving Azaan absolutely mad. Oh who was I lying tooo ...

I sat in Azaan Bhai's office with Sahiba, feeling a surge of annoyance brewing inside me as she sat there with her prim-and-proper posture, acting as though she owned the place. She had this knack for irritating me without even trying, and today was no different.

"Fiza, why are you here?" Sahiba asked, her tone overly polite, as if she couldn't bloody see the tiffin in my hand. The audacity of this girl.

I shot her a saccharine smile, tilting my head dramatically. "Because the maharani here," I said, gesturing to the tiffin, "forgot to bring her lunch."

"Okay, sorry about that," Sahiba replied sweetly, as if that made it all better. Unbelievable. She actually apologised. Sahiba, saying sorry to me? What parallel universe had I walked into? At home, she wouldn't even give me a half-hearted smile, and now she was suddenly all rainbows and sunshine?

You see, Sahiba isn't my real sister. She's my cousin. Her parents passed away a few years ago, and since then, she's lived with us. I don't hate her exactly, but I don't like her much either. She was fine before. But ever since she joined Azaan bhai's  business after I came back from university, she's turned into this overly sweet, two-faced person whenever he's around. It made my skin crawl.

Azaan bhai and I grew up together. It was always us, along with our other siblings ( azaan bhai is my distanced cousin but not real brother) , Zainab, Arhaan, and Alishba. He was my favourite person back then. But now? It felt like Sahiba had taken my place. He spent more time with her than me, and I couldn't help but feel... replaced but i see him be professional with her and not like how he is with me or arhaan or alishba or zainab .

"So, when are you leaving, Fiza?" Sahiba asked, her tone light but her meaning clear. She wanted me gone.

I rolled my eyes, my temper flaring. "Ja rahi hoon, don't worry," I said curtly, standing up. My mood was officially ruined. Again.

But before I could take a step, I felt a hand grip my wrist. I turned around, startled, and found myself face-to-face with Azaan bhai

"Fiza, lunch time hai," he said firmly. "Kahan ja rahi ho? Lunch karke jao."

Before I could argue, he guided me back to the sofa and made me sit next to him. I blinked, completely surprised. Azaan bhai wasn't usually this... persistent.

"Oh yeah, sure, you can eat with us, Fiza," Sahiba said, her tone dripping with false cheerfulness as her eyes flickered between me and Azaan bhai .She clearly wasn't thrilled about this development.

I hesitated, glancing between the two of them. "Azaan bhai, Mumma wait kar rahi hai. I have stuff to do. I'll go."

But before I could get up again, he grabbed my wrist a second time and pulled me back down.

"I'm ordering your favourite Chinese and ice cream," he said, his voice firm and laced with authority. "Shut up and sit down, or else you'll get another lecture from me. And don't call me bhai."

I stared at him, utterly baffled. "I can't just call you Azaan," I argued. "You're older than me, so obviously I'll call you bhai. Duh."

His jaw tightened, and I saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Don't. Call. Me. Bhai," he said, his voice dangerously low, before turning back to his phone. "You can call me Zaan if you want."

I nearly choked. Zaan? My head snapped up, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, "That's your nickname! That's what your loved ones call you!"

Across from me, Sahiba practically froze, her gaze boring into me like daggers. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Exactly," Azaan said, his tone casual but pointed. "That's why I said you can call me that."

I stared at him, my brain struggling to keep up. My mouth opened and closed like a fish, completely at a loss for words. When did this happen? And why was Sahiba looking like she was about to explode?

Before I could overthink it further, Azaan continued calmly, "Now stop talking. Food's here. Eat quietly."

I blinked and realised the food had somehow arrived without me noticing. And to my utter shock, he'd ordered exactly what I liked—crispy chilli chicken, fried rice, and a side of spring rolls.

I stared at him suspiciously as he dug into the same meal. "Wait a minute," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Last I checked, you hated spring onions. Why are you eating them now?"

He didn't even glance up. "Tastes change," he said dismissively, taking another bite.

I leaned back, muttering under my breath, "Gosh, this oldie is so confusing. He's going to drive me mad at this rate."

"Stop mumbling about me and eat," Azaan said without looking up.

After lunch, I stood up, ready to leave, but Azaan grabbed his car keys. "I have to pick up an important file from home," he said casually. "I'll drop you off."

Sahiba's face fell, and I had to suppress a smirk.

The ride home was silent, but I couldn't stop replaying everything in my head. Something about the way Azaan was acting felt... different. And I wasn't sure if I liked it or if it terrified me.

The party was in full swing, the soft hum of chatter blending with the faint clinking of glasses and upbeat music that played in the background. Abeer stood near the bar, his sharp black suit tailored perfectly to his tall frame, his expression calm yet slightly detached. He always found these publishing house parties a little tedious, but as the lead author of the evening, he couldn't skip it.

His eyes scanned the crowd absently until they landed on her.

Aarzoo stood near the bar, dressed in a stunning white saree, the delicate fabric draping her figure elegantly. She had her back to him, her loose curls spilling over her shoulder as she gestured towards the bartender. She seemed to be asking for a drink.

"Hmm, excuse me, can I have a glass of mocktail?" she asked politely, her voice soft yet clear.

The bartender handed her a drink, and she downed it quickly, the faint sheen of nervousness on her face giving away her discomfort in the formal setting. She tapped the bar for another. And then another.

Unbeknownst to her, the drinks being served weren't mocktails.

By the time she finished her sixth glass, Aarzoo's polite reserve had completely melted away. She stood unsteadily, swaying slightly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes brighter than usual. Abeer, noticing her condition, raised an eyebrow but didn't intervene yet.

That was until she turned and shouted loudly across the room, "Oye Majnu!"

Abeer froze mid-sip of his drink, his dark eyes snapping to her. The room grew momentarily quiet as several heads turned in her direction. Aarzoo, however, seemed oblivious to the attention. With a dazzling, slightly drunken grin, she began swaying her hips to the beat of the music, which had just switched to Nachenge Saari Raat from Junooniyat.

"Oh no," Abeer muttered under his breath, setting his glass down. He could already feel the eyes staring at his girl ... it was creeping up his spine.

But Aarzoo? She was having the time of her life.

"Nachenge saari raaaat, soniye!" she sang at the top of her lungs, throwing her arms into the air. She twirled in her saree, almost tripping on the hem, but quickly recovered and kept dancing, much to the amusement of the crowd.

Abeer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeh ladki mujhe pagal kar degi," he muttered before walking towards her.

By the time he reached her, Aarzoo had completely given herself over to the music, her laughter bubbling up as she tried to get a random group of guests to join her. They happily shuffled along, actually enjoying the party more now but this drunk women and her radiating so much energy.

"Aarzoo," Abeer called out, his voice low and firm.

She turned to him dramatically, her eyes lighting up. "Majnu!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide as if she'd spotted a long-lost lover. "Come dance with me!"

Before he could respond, she grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him onto the makeshift dance floor. He resisted, his lips twitching in an effort to hide a smile. He did dance with her

( the dance and the scene )

"Aarzoo, stop," he said softly, steadying her by the shoulders. "You've had too much to drink."he didn't want her to get hurt ... by tripping or get hurt by something...

"I've had nothing!" she protested, pouting. "Just... mocktails!"

"Those weren't mocktails," he informed her dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. "Kya?! Toh... toh mujhe nasha hogaya hai?"

"Obviously," he said, his tone exasperated but his gaze softening as she blinked up at him with wide, confused eyes.

Before he could say more, Aarzoo stumbled, and he instinctively reached out, catching her just as she began to fall. Her laughter faded as she found herself cradled in his arms, her head resting against his chest.

"Oops," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Abeer stared down at her, his heart skipping a beat as he took in her relaxed, glowing face. She looked so peaceful, so... happy. The mischievous Aarzoo he knew was still there, but right now, she seemed almost childlike in her innocence.

"Let's get you out of here," he said gently.

Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her towards the exit, ignoring the curious glances and hushed murmurs from the crowd. Her arms looped lazily around his neck, and she giggled softly.

"You know, Majnu," she murmured, her head resting against his shoulder, "you're not as boring as you seem."

He chuckled under his breath, his hands firmly supporting her underneath her thighs and back. "And you're not as sensible as you pretend to be."

She sighed contentedly, her eyelids drooping. "You're still my Majnu," she said sleepily, her words slurring slightly.

He glanced down at her, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. "And you're still my troublemaker."

By the time they reached his car, Aarzoo had fallen silent, her breathing steady as she dozed off in his arms. Abeer carefully settled her into the passenger seat, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

As he started the car and drove towards her home, he found himself glancing at her every few seconds, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. The chaos she brought into his life was maddening, but somehow, he wouldn't have it any other way.

The car hummed quietly in the dead silence of the parking lot, the dim yellow glow of the streetlights flickering against the glossy black of Abeer's car. Above them, a blanket of stars stretched across the dark sky, twinkling softly, as if the heavens were holding their breath for what was about to unfold.

Abeer glanced at Aarzoo, who was slumped in the passenger seat, her head tilted against the window. Her white saree shimmered faintly in the light, and her soft curls framed her glowing face, which was calm and serene, a stark contrast to her usual fiery spirit.

After messaging Tamanna to let her know he would drop Aarzoo home safely, Abeer had made a detour to a 24/7 store. He stepped out of the car, locking it behind him, and walked purposefully towards the shop. Inside, he grabbed a tub of yoghurt and a bottle of lemonade, his thoughts occupied with the girl currently passed out in his car.

Minutes later, he returned, settling back into the driver's seat. He set the items down and turned to her, leaning slightly. "Aarzoo, wake up," he said softly, his deep voice laced with patience.

She stirred but didn't open her eyes fully.

"Aarzoo," he repeated, this time more firmly.

Her lashes fluttered, but she remained half-asleep, her head lazily rolling to one side. Abeer sighed, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips as he unscrewed the lid of the yoghurt. He scooped a spoonful and leaned closer.

"Aarzoo, open your mouth. Ahh," he instructed gently, coaxing her like one would a stubborn child.

After a few groggy refusals, she finally parted her lips.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low, the praise slipping out naturally as he brought the spoon to her mouth.

Her big, doe-like green eyes fluttered open as she stared up at him while chewing slowly. The dazed look on her face and the faint pout of her lips made Abeer's heart stumble in his chest. He cleared his throat and tried to focus on the yoghurt, but her gaze was unrelenting, pulling him in like a green forest he couldn't escape.

And then, out of nowhere, she bit his finger.

"Ow!" he yelped, snapping out of his trance.

Aarzoo giggled mischievously, her drunk state amplifying her boldness. "Stop staring, Majnu," she teased, her voice lilting and full of mischief.

"I'm not staring," he said defensively, though his voice wavered slightly. "And stop calling me Majnu. I'm Abeer."

"Chal jhoote," she replied, smirking. "Since the day of that bike accident, you've been staring at me. If I even come into your frame, you don't look away unless I leave. It's like... you're addicted to me. Admit it, Mr. Abeer Malik aka Majnu."

Her words, though slurred, hit him like a bolt of lightning. He opened his mouth to protest, but his mind betrayed him, replaying every moment he had, in fact, stolen glances at her.

Before he could respond, she leaned closer, her green eyes boring into his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken.

"Don't look away," she said softly, her voice suddenly serious. "I like it when you look at me... the way you do. I love the way you handle me, Abeer."

He froze, his breath hitching. Her confession, albeit unfiltered by the haze of alcohol, left him utterly speechless. For a moment, he simply stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away from the raw vulnerability in her eyes.

Then, she tilted her head, studying him with drunken curiosity. "Why do you call me Majnu?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse.

Aarzoo's lips curled into a dreamy smile. "Because Majnu used to stare at Laila as if she were the first and last girl in the world... as if Allah made her eyes just for him to look at. And when you stare at me, Abeer, your eyes say the same thing. That's why."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and electric, making Abeer's cheeks flush. He looked down, trying to gather himself, but she wouldn't let him escape.

"For heaven's sake, Aarzoo," he muttered under his breath, "stop looking at me like that. These eyes are going to be the death of me."

She heard him.

Her lips curled into a teasing smile as she leaned in even closer, her breath brushing against his skin. "I thought my eyes made people fall in love with me," she murmured, her tone playful yet laced with meaning.

He clenched his jaw, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her gaze. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, and before he knew it, he had moved closer, his hand cupping her chin gently.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the silence of the night. "You have no idea what those green eyes do to me. They pull me in, they undo me... and then they leave me completely at your mercy."

Her breath hitched at his words, her teasing expression faltering as a new intensity settled between them. The air felt charged, as though the stars themselves were leaning in to listen.

Aarzoo blinked slowly, her lips parting slightly. But before either of them could act on the tension, Abeer suddenly pulled back, shaking his head as if to snap himself out of a spell.

"Let's get you home," he said gruffly, his voice tight as he started the car.

But Aarzoo just smiled, her gaze still fixed on him. She knew, and so did he, that this night had changed something between them—something that couldn't be ignored.

Abeer froze, the world outside the car fading into oblivion as Aarzoo's hands gripped his collar and yanked him closer. Her eyes, glassy and half-lidded, held a determination that left him no time to react. Before he could process what was happening, her lips pressed against his, soft and insistent, igniting a wildfire that spread through every corner of his being.

Fireworks. That's what it felt like. An explosion of sensations, impossible to contain, impossible to ignore.

For a moment, Abeer was completely taken aback, his mind screaming at him to pull away. But his body betrayed him. Her touch, her closeness, the warmth of her lips-all of it was utterly intoxicating. His resolve melted like ice under the blazing heat of the moment, and he found himself leaning into the kiss.

It was his first kiss. He had always imagined it to be soft, controlled, perhaps even a little awkward. But this... this was something else entirely. It was wild, unrestrained , and

magnetic, as if some unseen force was pulling him deeper into her orbit.

His hands instinctively cupped her cheeks, steadying her as their lips moved together in a rhythm that neither had planned but both seemed to know instinctively. Her scent— something sweet and floral-filled his senses, and for a moment, he forgot everything: the car, the parking lot, the consequences.

But Aarzoo wasn't one to play it safe.

Her hands began to wander, sliding from his chest to his shoulders, then down to his arms, leaving a trail of heat wherever she touched. She wasn't just kissing him-she was devouring him, claiming him in a way that left no room for hesitation.

Abeer's mind finally caught up to his body. He couldn't let this go any further. As much as his heart screamed to give in, his head knew this was dangerous territory. He needed to stop before they crossed a line they couldn't uncross.

With great effort, he broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to create space between them. Both of them were breathless, their chests rising and falling in unison. Aarzoo's lips were still slightly parted, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes fluttered as though trying to focus.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence punctuated only by the hum of the car's engine. Abeer couldn't look at her without feeling the weight of what had just happened.

His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

"I... I can't," he muttered under his breath, pushing open the car door and stepping out into the cool night air.

The cold breeze hit him like a splash of water, grounding him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of the chaos swirling inside him. What had just happened? How had he lost cont ' so completely? He glanced back at the car, his eyes narrowing as he peered through the window. Aarzoo, in true fashion, had fallen asleep again, her head resting against the seat, her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, as if she hadn't just turned his world upside down.

Shaking his head, Abeer opened the car door and slid back into the driver's seat. He stared at her for a long moment, his emotions warring between frustration and a strange, undeniable fondness.

"This girl is too dangerous for me," he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with both exasperation and amusement. "Meri izzat jaate-jaate bachi hai, tauba tauba."

As if she could hear him in her sleep, Aarzoo stirred slightly, mumbling,

"Shut up, Majnu."

His eyes widened, his body going stiff as he whipped his head towards her.

Was she awake? Was she teasing him again? He leaned closer, his brows furrowing as he tried to determine if she was playing some sort of game.

But her soft, even breathing told him she was sound asleep.

Abeer sat back, a disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. "Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head as he started the car. He glanced at her again, his heart doing that annoying little flip it always seemed to do when she was around.

As he drove through the empty streets, the night stretching endlessly before him, he couldn't help but smile to himself, his cheeks flushing despite his best efforts to remain composed.

Even in her sleep, Aarzoo managed to drive him insane.

"Majnu, huh?" he murmured to himself, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. "Maybe you're right, Aarzoo. Maybe I am your Majnu."

The thought sent a warmth spreading through his chest, and though he'd never admit it aloud, a part of him didn't mind being at her mercy.