Until It Was Real

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

I was there, minding my business, aggressively buttering a slice of bread that clearly didn't want to be buttered, when Tayi Jaan looked up.

"Zoya beta," she started, all calm and wise.

"Yes?" I answered, already suspicious.

"I think you should apply for your leave from today. The wedding is this weekend, and you will need time to rest and... process."

I wiped my mouth with the napkin, forcing a smile. "Oh... tayii jaan, today?"

"Yes, beta. There's so much to do. Clothes, jewellery, salon appointments. Your rukhsati is this weekend!"

Before I could react, Chachi jumped in, all enthusiastic. "Exactly! She's been working non-stop. Let her breathe now."

Mama nodded. "She won't get a second to herself once the functions begin anyway. Better to relax now."

I blinked.

I cleared my throat. "Actually—"

"She'll continue work till Thursday," Zaigham interrupted, not even looking up from his plate as he poured himself coffee.

My jaw almost dropped. "Excuse me?"

He calmly stirred his coffee, like this was normal. "There's still time. No need to disappear from the office just yet."

Wow. Could've at least pretended to care about my so-called bridal glow.

Laiba was already choking on her juice from trying not to laugh. Ruman api lookd amused. Aaliya glanced at me and mouthed, you gonna let that slide?

Zaviyaar leaned back dramatically in his chair, arms folded like he was watching a live rom-com. "Bhai really said: no time off, not even for your wedding. Ruthless."

Rayyan bhai added, "Maybe he's scared he will forget how to breathe if she's not in the office two days."

I gave them both a long, flat look.

Zayyan bhai grinned. "Bhai can't live without her. Say it, bhai. It's okay. We're all family here."

Zaigham didn't say a word. He just slowly looked up and gave one single, chilling glare.

That was it.

The table went silent.

Zaviyaar suddenly found the grains on his toast very interesting. "Right. Anyway. Good weather today."

Rayyan bhai picked up his glass like he wanted to hide behind it. "I... actually like weekdays."

I looked down.

Ayat and Inaya were both silently trying not to laugh.

Nouran api rolled her eyes. "You know, most grooms want their brides to rest before the big day. But yours is trying to keep you at your desk like a corporate hostage."

Zaigham raised an eyebrow at her. "She's not a hostage. She's my project partner."

"Oh well, I love being objectified like a spreadsheet," I muttered.

Then, just for dramatic effect, I crossed my arms, slouched slightly, and let out the most obvious pout I could manage...complete with big eyes and exaggerated sulking. Nobody reacted. Rude.

Aaliya leaned over. "You are literally arguing over whether you can take a break before your own wedding. You two are impossible."

"I'm not arguing," I replied with a shrug. "I'm just observing how my husband values spreadsheets more than my skincare."

He looked at me, completely unaffected. "Your skincare routine is two steps. Don't pretend."

My cheeks turned red.

Laiba giggled. "Okay, this is definitely love."

Mama added in, always the peacekeeper. "Beta, we'll figure out a balance. Maybe half-days if needed."

I nodded dramatically. "Yes, Mama. I'll definitely consider taking a break from the one person who clearly doesn't think I should."

Zaigham looked at me calmly. "If you don't want to work, don't work. But don't use me as the excuse."

"Excuse? I am literally the bride. I shouldn't be clocking in like a corporate intern!"

Laiba elbowed me again and whispered, "Girl, you're having a whole married couple fight already."

I sighed and sipped my juice.

"Or maybe she can just go to work," Deeda muttered under her breath, sipping her chai. "Too much sitting at home before marriage rots the brain."

Mahveen added giving me a look. "Exactly, Dadi. Productivity is key."

I sighed.

We reached the office, and I swear, these damn cramps were killing me. I had gotten my period this morning... What could be worse than this?

I groaned internally and followed Zaigham into his cabin. As always, he immediately settled behind his desk like the CEO robot he was born to be. I slumped down at mine, already regretting every life choice that led me here instead of staying home under a blanket with chocolate and a heating pad.

Not even sixty seconds later, he was deep into files. His secretary came in, briefed him on the day's meetings...two investor calls, one onboarding review, and some internal approvals. He just nodded like a machine, already signing papers while multitasking on an email draft.

Meanwhile, I opened my laptop and stared at the screen like it personally offended me.

The cramps wouldn't stop, and I could feel the backache building like a dark storm cloud. Still, I pushed through, reviewing financial reports and marking edits on the newest proposal. One column wasn't adding up, and the Excel formula was a demon from hell.

I got up and walked over to Zaigham with the file.

"Umm... there's an error here," I muttered, holding the paper between two fingers. "I tried fixing it but this figure isn't matching with the net total from page four."

He looked at me, silent for a moment, then motioned for me to sit beside him. He took the file from my hand and leaned in, his sleeve brushing against mine as he adjusted the sheet.

"You're referencing the wrong column. See here?" His voice was low and firm. "You need to link this to the adjusted revenue, not the gross."

I tried to focus, but being this close to him while in pain, annoyed, and already emotionally unstable was a dangerous mix.

Still mad at him, by the way. In case that wasn't clear.

Our wedding is on the freaking weekend, and he was acting like it was a month away.

He finished explaining. I nodded once, took the file, and returned to my desk without a word.

He didn't notice. Or didn't care. Probably both.

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw the back of my skull.

After a while, I glanced at the clock. It was time for his coffee. And of course, I got up, dragging my sore legs to the pantry. My back was screaming, but I still made it.

I came back and placed the mug gently on his table.

"Here's your coffee, Sir," I said flatly, without sarcasm, without anything.

He looked up, probably caught off guard by my deadpan tone, but only gave a small nod before looking back at his laptop.

I blinked. That's it?

I stood there, stunned. A simple 'Are you okay?' would've sufficed. But no. Of course not. Why would he ask?

He finally looked up again, eyebrows raised. "Why are you still standing there?"

I stared at him, then muttered, "You're unbelievably cruel."

"What?"

"You didn't even let me take the day off."

"That's because we still have a few days before the wedding," he replied easily, like that made it okay.

"I'm the bride," I snapped. "It's not like we're getting married next month."

"You will still have two full days off," he said, as if this was normal.

"You have no idea how much brides have to do, do you?"

He tilted his head slightly. "Like what?"

"Facials, skin prep, pampering... a little glow-up, you know?" I said, folding my arms, irritated.

"But why do you need them?" he asked, genuinely confused.

I stared. "What do you mean why? Don't you want your wife to look pretty?"

I added a small pout at the end, mostly out of spite.

He paused.

Then stood up slowly, his chair sliding back with a soft scrape.

Wait, what?

He walked around the desk toward me. My eyes widened. Was he... was he coming closer?

He didn't stop.

My heart was doing full gymnastics.

I instinctively stepped back, but there was a wall behind me, and before I could react, he was in front of me, one hand resting on the wall beside my head, the other mirroring it on the other side.

Ya Allah, what is this girl trying to do to me?

Does she even realize how crazy she's been driving me these days? That pout,that innocent little pout she just threw my way, is going to be the death of me.

How do I tell her she doesn't need any facials or glow-ups? She already shines brighter than anything I've ever known.

I stood up slowly, almost without thinking, like something inside me was pulling me toward her.

She looked a little stunned, eyes widening as I stepped closer. She instinctively took a step back until her back met the wall behind her.

"W-what are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I stood in front of her, bracing one hand on the wall beside her head... then the other. Trapping her in, yet not touching her.

Her dark brown eyes were wide, searching, confused, curious...and I found myself sinking into them like they held every answer to every question I never dared to ask.

Ya Allah, what's gotten into me?

I wasn't like this. I wasn't impulsive.

But something about her was pulling me towards her slowly.

She was looking at me like she was trying to read my mind, trying to figure out what this sudden shift meant.

"You don't need any of those things, Zoya. You're already so beautiful."

The words just spilled out before I could stop them.

Did I really just say that? Out loud?

Her cheeks flushed instantly, her lips parted slightly in shock, and her eyes darted away, unable to hold my gaze.

She looked... breathtaking.

What the hell is happening to me?

This wasn't how I planned anything. I wasn't supposed to feel this deeply, this quickly, this uncontrollably. But here I was, standing an inch away from her, heart racing like I'd run a marathon, palms braced on the wall just to stop myself from doing something even more reckless.

She's marrying me in a few days...That feels surreal.

I've always thought showing up, providing, being stable,that was enough. That's what a husband is supposed to do.

But right now, watching her try to hide that blush.

She deserves someone who tells her she's beautiful.

She deserves someone who notices when she's in pain.

She deserves someone who makes her feel seen, even when she's silent.

And I've been so damn silent myself.

I leaned in just slightly, not close enough to scare her, just enough to make sure she heard me clearly.

"I mean it," I said, my voice lower, more certain. "You're already everything. You don't need to change a thing."

She blinked, stunned. Her lips curved slightly into a smile.

And then—

Knock.

A loud one.

I closed my eyes for a second, trying not to curse out loud.

Of course. Of course.

I stepped back from her, hands falling to my sides as the wall between us rebuilt itself in seconds.

She looked away, her hand brushing over her hijab nervously. I turned my back, straightened my suit jacket, and walked back to my chair, my heart still pounding.

I sat down like nothing happened.

"Come in."

It was Mahveen.

"Hi Zaigham!"

She stepped in like she owned the place, but the moment her eyes landed on me, her smile faded like a glitch in the system.

"You're here too?" she asked, the surprise in her voice not even hidden.

"Uh... yes?" I blinked, trying not to sound offended.

She didn't bother responding. Just turned her head like I was a piece of furniture and walked straight toward Zaigham's chair.

"Zaigham, I always wanted to see your office!" she said sweetly, already moving behind him and placing both hands on the back of his chair like she was marking territory or something.

I watched her, not even trying to hide it. She knew exactly what she was doing. That sugar-dipped tone, the overly casual arm touch, the constant flipping of her hair?

She was in full performance mode.

Zaigham leaned forward to pick up a file from the desk, sliding slightly away from her in the process.

And yes, I noticed that too.

She threw me a sideways glance, the kind that said, 'You're still here?'

Zaigham, probably out of manners or just to be civil, pointed toward the chair in front of him.

"Come, sit." he offered politely.

She nodded eagerly and sat down, crossing her legs like she was posing for a brand shoot.

"What will you have? Tea or coffee?" he asked her.

Wah wah. So much hospitality all of a sudden?

I secretly rolled my eyes.

She smiled like she'd been waiting for that line her whole life.

"You know what I like, Zaigham," she said sweetly, eyes fluttering. Seriously? Was she reciting a line from some bad drama?

Zaigham didn't even bother to look up from his laptop.

"I've forgotten," he replied dryly.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Her smile twitched, just for a second, like a crack in her perfect little mask.

"Haha, it's okay," she recovered quickly. "Um... I'd like to have a coffee."

She said that while turning her gaze to me.

Wait—what?

Excuse me? Did she just casually order coffee... from me?

Did I look like her personal barista?

I stared at her for a second, tempted to roll my eyes again, but decided against drama. So, I quietly stood up and walked toward the door.

Until—

"Where are you going, Miss Khan?"

His voice.

I turned slowly, caught off-guard. "I... to bring the coffee?"

Even I sounded unsure of my own answer.

Zaigham lifted his head finally, meeting my eyes.

"As far as I remember, this isn't your duty."

HUH?

"Your duty," he added without blinking, "is only to bring my coffee."

I blinked.

Was... was this really happening?

Was Mr. Akroo Khan actually saying that?

Mahveen's face lost color faster than mine gained it. Her jaw clenched subtly.

Zaigham, without waiting for further discussion, picked up the intercom and called for two coffees.

As the assistant confirmed it, Mahveen quickly tried to recover.

"You've decorated the office very nicely, Zaigham. Very minimalistic. So... cold and formal. Just like you," she chuckled, her tone sweet with a hint of mockery.

He glanced up for a second. "I like things functional," he said, flat.

"Well, then you really haven't changed. Same old serious Zaigham."

She turned toward me with a sugar-laced smile.

"It must be hard for you to adjust, right? Sharing a space with someone who barely talks?"

I smiled right back."Actually, when one is quiet, the other should be bubbly...someone like me. That way, we make a perfect match. You know, opposites attract."

I don't know why did I say it, but I noticed the little twich on Zaigham's face.

She blinked.

And then the coffee arrived.

The assistant walked in with a tray, placing two cups neatly on Zaigham's desk.

I stood silently, assuming one was obviously for him, and the other, well, clearly for her.

But what he did next?

Shook me.

Zaigham picked up one cup, and walked straight to me.

He handed it over gently, his fingers brushing mine for half a second longer than necessary.

"I noticed your face looked pale. Thought you'd need coffee too."

My heart skipped a full beat.

I looked up at him, unsure of what to say, my cheeks warming instantly.

"Thank you," I mumbled, the words barely leaving my lips.

He nodded once, then returned to his seat like he hadn't just sent my entire brain into a tailspin.

I turned my eyes toward Mahveen.

She was glaring at me like I'd just stolen her throne.

And I didn't hide my smirk.

At all.

The drive back home was unusually quiet.

Or maybe I was just too tired to fill it with my usual sarcastic commentary. Zaigham had one hand on the wheel and the other draped on the gear shift, his sleeves rolled up, hair slightly ruffled, and face unreadable as always.

I stole a glance at him.

He looked calm, handsome, hot—

Okay Zoya, you seriously need to stop. Like. Right now. You're literally drooling over your husband.

As soon as the car stopped, I pushed the door open and jogged inside, already dreaming of my bed. Ya Allah, I want to sleep so bad.

Since Tayi Jan had called Zaigham earlier and asked him to drop me home, it was just 1 p.m. He went back to the office, poor guy.

The moment I stepped into the living room, the sound of low chatter greeted me. Mama, Deeda, Tayi Jan, and Chachi were sitting on the sofas, deep in conversation.

"Assalamualaikum," I said, trying to sound energetic despite the fact that my eyelids were halfway shut.

"Waalaikumussalam!" Mama looked up, smiling. "You're early today?"

I nodded. "Tayi Jan had called, so he dropped me."

Tayi Jan gave me a proud look. "Good, good. You're looking tired though."

"I am!" I half-laughed. "Actually... can I go lie down for a bit? Just a short nap before lunch?"

Deeda chuckled softly. "Go, beta. You young ones can't function without your beauty sleep, hmm?"

Chachi added, "Just, don't sleep till maghrib like last time!"

I grinned. "Promise! Just an hour... two max."

They all laughed as I made my way to the room, already kicking off my shoes.

Sleep, here I come.

I was in the middle of the most heavenly nap mankind has ever experienced.

You know the kind where you're not even dreaming, just floating in absolute darkness like a piece of laundry in a warm dryer? Yeah. That level.

Until—

SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE

"Zoya! ZOYA! Get up, woman!"

Laiba's voice sliced through my peace like a chainsaw through butter.

I groaned, turning to the other side and pulling the blanket over my head. "Go away... I'm one with my bed now."

But Laiba had zero chill. She yanked the blanket off and practically flipped me like a pancake.

"It's already 4 p.m!" she snapped.

"Huh?" I blinked up at her, confused and mildly betrayed. "Is it morning again?"

Laiba looked like she was reconsidering her relation with me. "No, Einstein. It's the evening. You've been asleep for four hours and Mama thought you had passed out from wedding stress."

"Well," I mumbled, trying to sit up, "I kind of did."

"Get ready!" she said, marching toward the wardrobe.

"Why? Are we going to war?"

Laiba turned dramatically. "Zoya. We have two wedding functions this weekend. TWO. One is yours, the other is Ayyan bhai's. We need a ton of shopping. Dresses. Shoes. Bangles. Matching dupattas. Matching nails. Matching eyelashes."

I blinked. "Wait... we match eyelashes now?"

Laiba rolled her eyes like I'd just insulted the entire female population.

"Ugh, you're so slow sometimes I feel like I need subtitles just to talk to you."

Despite the insult, my brain latched onto the word shopping.

And suddenly, I was awake.

My eyes sparkled like a toddler spotting candy.

"Did you just say... shopping?"

Laiba narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

"Like... bags? and shoes? and heels I can't walk in but will buy anyway?"

"Yes."

"And mango smoothies on the side while trying on stuff we don't need?"

"Yes, Zoya."

"But..." I sighed dramatically, flopping back into my pillow. "My body's too tired. My soul has left the group chat."

Laiba gave me a dry look. "Your soul better rejoin the chat in five minutes."

"Okay, okay," I said, peeking at her with a grin. "But only if you bring me a cup of hot chocolate."

"Excuse me?"

I did the full puppy eyes, soft pout, fluttery lashes trick.

She groaned. "You manipulative little—"

I widened my eyes more.

She sighed. "Fine. But you better be dressed and on your feet before I come back or I'll pour it over your head."

"Aww, you're the best! Marshmallows please?"

She flipped me off playfully and stomped out. I giggled into my pillow.

Now to drag myself out of bed like a freshly defrosted dinosaur.

So after two outfit changes, a mild breakdown over my eyeliner not matching, and Laiba yelling "WE'RE ALREADY LATE!" for the fifteenth time, we finally reached the mall.

Tayi Jaan had organized the whole thing like a military operation.

Everyone was there.

Mama in her comfy beige shawl.

Chachi with her iconic oversized handbag and a checklist.

Ruman Apiholding fabric samples.

Aaliya, giving off influencer energy in her sunglasses.

Ayat and Inaya skipping ahead like mall was their playground.

Laiba, of course, the commander-in-chief of chaos.

And Nouran Api, calm and elegant, keeping everyone grounded.

Me? I was just hoping to not trip over my own dupatta.

"So, Zoya," Ruman Api said as we walked into the first boutique, "for the mehndi, I was thinking a fresh pastel theme."

"Pastel?" I blinked. "Like mint green pastel or... toothpaste pastel?"

She laughed. "You will look gorgeous, I promise."

"I trust you," I said, already spotting a rack of elegant shararas and walking toward it like a moth to flame.

Tayi Jaan settled herself on a chair outside the trial room. "Zoya beta, make sure you don't pick anything too heavy. You'll have to sit for hours."

"I was planning to lie down halfway through," I said.

Mama chuckled. "That's not how weddings work."

"Oh? Then why are we paying the makeup artist so much if I'm not allowed to nap in full glam?"

Aaliya snorted. "This one will go viral for sleeping at her own mehndi."

Laiba was already piling outfits into my arms. "Less talking, more trying. Come on, bride-to-be."

I entered the trial room tried more than 10 dresses and now finally changed into an emerald green outfit that made me feel like a Mughal princess. When I came out, everyone paused.

Ayat gasped. "Zoya you look like Cinderella but desi!"

Inaya nodded. "I wanna wear this on my wedding."

Aaliya took a boomerang for Instagram stories while Laiba walked in circles around me like I was an art installation.

"Okay, this is gorgeous," she admitted. "Zaigham bhai might faint."

I blushed instantly. "Stop it."

Then of course, Nouran Api had to drop her classy one-liner. "Should we keep smelling salts ready for him, then?"

"Oh my Allah," I muttered, turning pinker.

Ayat, bless her sugar-fueled energy, tugged my arm. "Now jewelry! Bangles! Let's gooo!"

"And Matching Hijab too." I muttered.

"You're wearing hijab on wedding too?" Aaliya asked.

"Of course." I replied.

I would not remove my hijab, even if it's my own wedding. I've been wearing it since I turned twelve. It's not just a piece of cloth for me. It's a part of who I am, a reflection of my faith, my identity, and my commitment to Allah.

People may not understand it, and that's okay. But for me, my hijab isn't something I wear for others, it's something I wear for myself and for the One who created me. I won't compromise on it.

We spent the next hour drifting from store to store like butterflies. There were no crowds pushing or shouting. No blaring wedding music or glitter explosions. Just us, calm chatter, soft lights, and Laiba threatening to throw me into the fountain if I didn't pick earrings soon.

We picked jhumkay. Then shoes. Then I tried a matha patti that made me look like I had a forehead chandelier. We rejected it.

Eventually, we ended up at this cute cafe inside the mall. Everyone settled in with snacks, iced lattes, brownies, fries.

I sank into the chair next to Laiba, inhaling my fries like I hadn't eaten in a decade.

"You know," I said, sipping my soda, "this is actually kinda fun."

"Kinda?" Mama raised a brow. "You've been smiling like a fool for the past hour."

"Must be the sugar," I said.

"Laiba, did you notice," Aaliya teased, "she only blushes when we say Zaigham Bhai?"

"Yep," Laiba grinned. "It's like a remote button."

I threw a fry at her.

"Anyway," Ruman Api said, flipping through her moodboard, "we still have the walima look to finalize."

"One step at a time," Chachi said, sipping her tea. "Let today's mission finish first."

I leaned back, my arms tired, my feet sore.

Shopping with my favorite people. Laughing. Teasing. Being a bride. It was real now.

In just a few days... I'd be married well we already are married but I will be Mrs. Zaigham Officially.

Mr. Stone Cold CEO who now casually stared at me like I'd hung the moon.

Ya Allah help me.

To be Continued....

Vote and Comment please.