Until It Was Real

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧

Another day.

Another round of shopping.

It had been two full days of back-to-back mall visits, fabric decisions, matching accessories, shoe trials, and basically everything that could emotionally and physically exhaust a human being.

And yes, I love shopping. It's practically therapeutic. But today, even my inner shopaholic was waving a white flag.

Today, it was just me, Nouran Api, Aaliya, Laiba, and Ruman Api. And surprisingly, Rayyan Bhai, Zayyan Bhai, and Zaigham were joining us.

I know. I was shocked too.

I had found out over breakfast when Tayyi Jaan said, "Zaigham will go with you to shop for your walima dress."

My spoon literally froze mid-air.

I blinked. And blinked again.

I waited for Zaigham to throw in one of his usual lines like "I'm busy" or "I have a meeting." But no. He simply nodded and said, "Okay."

And here we were.

First, we tackled everyone else's shopping. Aaliya was on a mission to find the perfect jewelry set to match her outfit. Laiba was still undecided about what to wear on the walima.

Ruman Api had already done her shopping but was tagging along anyway because she claimed it was fun watching the chaos. Nouran Api had some final fittings to check for her nikkah outfit.

As for me, the walima dress was still pending.

I glanced behind to see Zaigham walking silently with us, head down, scrolling through his phone.

Seriously?

You're here for your own wedding shopping and you're still glued to your phone?

I shook my head and whispered under my breath, "What is he going to do on the wedding day? Join the Zoom call?"

He didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did and decided I wasn't worth a reaction.

Typical Akroo. Khan.

We entered the boutique. Aaliya and Nouran Api went with Rayyan and Zayyan Bhai to check their fittings, leaving just me, Laiba, and Ruman Api.

Zaigham followed behind and then stood quietly near the entrance like some kind of silent, brooding mannequin.

I glanced at him once. Still scrolling.

I walked over and said low enough for only him to hear, "You really planning on pretending we don't exist the whole time?"

He looked up briefly and raised an eyebrow. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Physically, yes. Mentally, you're definitely in an Excel sheet."

He didn't say anything. I turned away quickly before he could say something.

Laiba held up two dresses and looked at me dramatically. "Do I look like a confused teenager or a stylish adult in this?"

"You always look confused," I replied.

She smacked my arm and then called Ruman Api for help, who immediately started giving notes like she was judging a fashion show.

I finally reached the section for bridal formals and picked up a soft lavender outfit with delicate mirror work. I held it up and looked into the mirror.

It was pretty. Soft.

I turned a little and caught Zaigham looking up from his phone for just a second. His gaze landed on the dress in my hands.

And then... he shook his head. Just a slight, almost imperceptible shake.

Excuse me?

Was that a no?

I blinked at him. He didn't say a word, just casually looked back down at his phone.

I whispered stubbornly to myself. "He's not the fashion expert here."

Even as I said it, I couldn't help the tiny twist in my stomach. Or the slight heat rising to my cheeks.

With a bunch of dresses piled over my arms, I walked into the changing room. One by one, I tried them on... and rejected them all just as quickly.

Too glittery.

Too heavy.

Too bridal.

Too... not me.

I was starting to get tired and frustrated.

"Zoya, how many more are you going to reject?" Laiba called from outside. "Planning to spend the night here or what?"

"You know what kind of dresses I like, Laiba!" I whined. "None of these even come close! They're all so... extra."

"You're a bride," she snapped. "What do you want to wear to your Walima? A tracksuit?"

"Okay okay, stop fighting you two," Ruman Api interrupted. "Zoya, here, take these few more options and try them. Laiba, come with me, I need your help with something."

"Where are you both going?" I peeked out suspiciously.

"There's a small errand ahead. Don't worry, Zaigham bhai is right here," she said casually.

My eyes widened.

"You're leaving me here with Mr. Attitude Khan all alone? Who am I supposed to show the dresses to now?!"

She gave me a look that basically screamed "you'll live" and walked off with Laiba.

I groaned and slammed the trial room door shut again.

I sighed, staring at the new stack of dresses. Tried one. Too much work. Tried another. Too many sequins. I groaned again.

None of these are it.

Suddenly, a knock. I rolled my eyes and pulled the door slightly.

Zaigham stood there, arms folded, expression unreadable.

"How much time are you going to take?" he asked coolly. "Planning to spend the whole day in here?"

I opened the door a little wider and gestured to the disaster behind me.

"I'm not leaving until I find something I like. If you want to go, go ahead," I snapped.

His brow lifted.

"Still didn't like anything out of that mountain of clothes?"

I shook my head firmly.

He sighed. And then..without saying a word he closed the door.

I gasped dramatically. "He really shut the door on me?! Here I am, genuinely distressed, struggling to find a Walima outfit, and he just... leaves?! Wow. I didn't expect better...but still!"

Some minutes later, another knock.

Now I was truly done. Ready to go full dragon mode on whoever it was.

I yanked open the door, and it was one of the boutique staff members.

"Ma'am, here," she said politely, holding out a dress.

I blinked. Took it. And gasped.

It was stunning.

A soft ivory base with subtle silver threadwork and pearl detailing, delicate but elegant, just the right balance of bridal and graceful. The neckline wasn't too deep, the sleeves were full and tapered, and the flare? Ugh. Gorgeous.

"Where was this hidden all this time?!" I asked her, baffled.

She gave me a nervous smile. "Ma'am, this is from our premium collection. We usually show it only when requested."

I frowned. "Then who asked you to show me this?"

She turned and pointed.

I followed her gesture... and froze.

Zaigham.

Standing just outside, phone pressed to his ear, completely unbothered.

I turned back to her, confused. "He told you?"

She nodded. "He picked it himself."

I stood there, stunned.

Zaigham? Picked this? For me?

Was I dreaming?

Someone please pinch me.

I closed the door and tried the dress on like it was made of gold. It fit like a dream. My cheeks were already heating up at the thought of him choosing it for me.

Okay, Zoya. Calm down. You're not in a drama serial.

But also... he picked this. How did he even know what I'd like?

I looked at myself in the mirror once more, felt a flutter in my stomach, and took a deep breath.

Alright. You got this.

I opened the door and stepped out.

He turned around.

His eyes moved from my face to my dress and back up again.

No expression.

Just that unreadable look.

As Zaigham looked at her, for a second....just a second, he forgot how to breathe.

She stood there in the soft ivory dress he had chosen, the delicate pearls and silver threadwork catching the boutique lights just enough to glow around her. And yet... they didn't glow half as much as she did in that moment.

The person on the other end of his call kept talking, but Zaigham wasn't listening. His eyes were on his wife, now standing before him looking exactly like the kind of bride he hadn't even realized he imagined.

Zoya slowly walked toward him, her hands awkwardly adjusting the sides of the dress as she tilted her head up.

"How do I look?"

Zaigham blinked, as if waking up from a dream. Only one word made it out of his mouth.

"Beautiful."

Zoya froze. "What?"

He cleared his throat, blinked again like he just realized what he said out loud. "I—I mean yeah, good. It's fine. We're already late. Hurry up."

His ears were red. Zoya narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm going, obviously. God forbid you give a real compliment," she muttered as she turned back toward the changing room.

But before she could step inside, Ruman and Laiba returned.

And the moment they saw her, they gasped, loudly.

"Oh my Allah, Zoya! Look at you!" Laiba squealed. "You look so, so pretty!"

Zoya couldn't help it, she smiled.

"Where did this dress come from?" Ruman asked, stepping closer to admire the detailing.

Zoya hesitated. Her eyes flicked sideways... to where Zaigham was still standing, hands in pockets, his gaze trained on her with an unreadable expression. He looked away the moment their eyes met.

Laiba caught the glance. And that was all she needed.

"Oh-hoooo!" she shouted, nudging Ruman with exaggerated drama. "Bhai picked this one, didn't he?"

Zoya rolled her eyes hard, but her cheeks were already betraying her.

"Yes, yes. If he had picked it earlier, we wouldn't have wasted so much time today," she grumbled, trying and failed, to suppress her blush.

She turned quickly and disappeared back into the changing room, her heart thudding just a little louder than before.

Inside, she leaned back against the door and touched the fabric of the dress gently, the smile she was hiding finally slipping free.

Zaigham picked this.

For her.

And called her beautiful.

Even if he tried to cover it up right after.

She bit her lip, half rolling her eyes at herself now.

"Oh no," she muttered. "Don't start catching feelings, Zoya. You still have to survive married life with Mr. No-Compliment Khan."

They all made their way to the reception desk to make the purchase.

The receptionist smiled and scanned the barcode.

"That'll be $25,000CAD, ma'am."

Zoya froze mid-step. "What?!"

She blinked, almost choking on air.

"That's... that's like twenty normal dresses," she hissed under her breath. Her hand instinctively moved to stop the process.

But before she could utter another word, Zaigham casually slid his card across the counter.

The lady at the register smiled and accepted it.

Zoya turned toward him, staring like he had grown a second head.

"Wait—what are you—" she started.

He didn't respond. Just stood calmly with his hands in his pockets like this was the most casual thing in the world.

Behind her, Laiba and Ruman exchanged a knowing look and quietly bit back their grins.

Once the payment was done and they were handed the carefully packed dress, Zoya walked up to him.

"You didn't have to buy that. It was ridiculously expensive," she said, keeping her voice low.

Zaigham glanced at her with one brow slightly raised. "You didn't like it?"

She hesitated. "I did... I loved it. But that doesn't mean—"

"What's the point of being a successful CEO if I can't buy my wife the dress she actually wants?" he cut her off casually, not even looking at her as he began walking ahead.

Zoya's jaw dropped. She stared after him like he'd just hit her with a flying shoe.

Laiba and Ruman came up beside her, grinning like devils.

"Ohhh girl..." Laiba sang softly. "Someone's falling in love."

"Deep, deep love," Ruman added, winking.

Zoya, now ten shades redder, glared at them. "Shut up, both of you."

But even she couldn't stop the tiny, giddy smile tugging at her lips as they followed him out.

Next stop: a high-end jewelry shop.

While Zaigham stepped aside to attend a business call, the girls entered the sparkling shop filled with gold, pearls, and diamonds on display.

Zoya busied herself with matching earrings for her outfit. She was holding up a delicate pair of jhumkas when something caught her eye.

A wristwatch.

It sat inside a glass case, minimal in design with a smooth rose-gold dial, a slim metal strap, and tiny crystals in place of numbers. It was so beautiful, minimal.

She bent down a little to admire it, her eyes lighting up. That was her style. Elegant, simple.

But the smile vanished as soon as she read the price tag.

Her expression dropped. "Nope," she mumbled to herself.

Zoya straightened and stepped back immediately. No way I'm spending that much on a watch.

Sure, she loved shopping, and yes, she was rich. But she had limits. She didn't like wasting money, especially on things she didn't need.

Laiba noticed. "You like that one?"

Zoya nodded hesitantly. "Yeah... it's beautiful."

"Then take it!" Laiba said, nudging her. "Just ask Zaigham bhai, he won't say anything."

Zoya shook her head. "Shut up. You know I hate wasting money. And this one? I could buy an entire set of heels, a handbag, and a perfume in this price."

Laiba sighed dramatically, giving up. "Fine. Miss Sensible."

They turned their attention back to the jewelry counter, not realizing that someone had returned and had heard everything.

After finalizing jewelry and picking up a few more random essentials, they finally headed to the food court.

Zoya slumped into a seat dramatically, letting out a long sigh as she texted Zaigham:"We're at the food court."

He was still on a call somewhere in the mall, and she didn't expect a reply. But five minutes later, he showed up and joined them at the table.

The exhaustion of the day was finally setting in. Zoya leaned back with her smoothie, silently munching on fries, listening to Laiba and Ruman argue over burger flavors and Nouran calming them.

But every now and then... she could feel it.

A pair of eyes on her.

She tried to ignore it the first time. Maybe she was imagining it.

But by the third glance, she knew.

Zaigham was looking at her.

She raised her eyes to meet his, just to confirm, and sure enough, he was staring. But the moment their eyes locked, he looked away. So smoothly, like it never happened.

Her heart skipped a beat. And then another.

She turned pink.

Why is he like this? she thought, looking down at her tray, trying not to smile.

It was unfair how effortlessly he could rattle her without even trying.

After food, it was the guys' turn to shop. Rayyan and Zayyan were quick and easy. Pick, try, pay, done.

Zaigham, though?

Zaigham was something else.

They entered the tuxedo store, and within seconds, all eyes were on him, she felt jealous though the way those ladies were gawking at him.

Tall, sharp features, effortless charm.

He picked out a sleek black tux with a subtle satin lapel and held it up.

Everyone nodded in approval.

Everyone except her.

Zoya raised an eyebrow and gave a small shake of her head, sipping her iced tea.

Zaigham turned and without a word, hung it back.

Rayyan groaned. "Bhai it was fine, what even—"

But Zaigham wasn't listening. He already had his eyes on another.

Again, he picked a dark navy-blue one. Modern cut, polished look.

Again, everyone liked it.

Again, Zoya tilted her head slightly and made a tiny face.

Zaigham simply sighed and returned it like the decision was easy.

Ruman leaned over to her. "You know he's only looking at you, right?"

Zoya shrugged, trying to act unbothered.

Finally, he held up a tux.

A charcoal grey Italian piece with a crisp black lapel, double-breasted front, and clean lines that hugged the body just right. The kind of suit that wasn't loud, but when worn by the right person, demanded attention.

Zoya's eyes softened.

She nodded.

Zaigham watched her silently for a second, then disappeared into the changing room.

When he stepped out, wearing that tux, she forgot how to blink.

He looked... ridiculously Handsome and Smoking Hot.

Even Laiba, Ruman, and Aaliya collectively sighed. But Zoya didn't say a word.

She just stared.

And he, he didn't even look at anyone else. His eyes found her. Not for approval.

Just to see her reaction.

Her heart thudded hard against her ribs.

She quickly looked away.

"Yeah... this one," she muttered, pretending to scroll through her phone.

Zaigham turned to the stylist. "We'll take this."

And that was that.

As he walked past her, she swore she saw a tiny smirk pull at the corner of his lips.

And of course... that didn't help her heartbeat at all.

Ugh. Finally. I collapsed onto my bed after what felt like the longest day of my life. I kicked off my heels and buried my face in the pillow. "Finally, all the shopping is done," I mumbled to myself, stretching out like a starfish.

My feet were killing me, my head was spinning... but my heart? My heart was doing a full-on drum performance remembering today's events. Every single moment replayed in my head like a movie on repeat, and I swear I could feel myself blushing again like a teenager with her first crush.

The way he kept looking at me every time he picked up a tux.

The way he silently waited for my nod before finalizing anything.

And that dress. The way he just... chose it and paid for it like it was nothing.

Oh. My. Allah.

That line—"What's the point of being a CEO if I can't get my wife the dress she likes?"—kept echoing in my ears.

Excuse me?

Is this the same Akroo Khan I've known all my life? Who wouldn't even share the remote let alone pick out dresses?

I giggled to myself, blushing and shaking my head. "Why am I smiling so much," I whispered to no one, hiding my face with my hands.

Just then—

"You're smiling a lot today, huh?"

I jumped and turned to see Laiba standing at the door with Rayyan bhai right behind her. Great. Just great. These two always showed up at the perfect time to ruin my peace.

Here we go.

"Aye aye... looks like a lot happened today, Mrs. Khan," Rayyan bhai teased with a smirk draging Mrs Khan with unecessary stretch.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't wipe the smile off my face fast enough.

Laiba joined in with her full dramatic mood. "Ohhh please, that CEO man literally bought that premium dress for his wife. I mean, what's even the point of being a CEO if he can't do that, right?"

They both squealed like overexcited kids, and I groaned, grabbing a pillow to throw at them.

"Can you two not start right now? There's nothing going on. He was just... I don't know, flexing something."

Rayyan bhai raised a brow. "Oh yeah? and asking your opinion on every tux?"

I stayed quiet. Because yes, okay, that did sound... different.

Laiba laughed. "Girl, you were literally turning pink every time he looked at you. Just admit it already."

I groaned again and buried my face in the pillow. "Shut up. Both of you. Out. I need sleep. Like, immediately."

But my traitor heart?

It was doing little flips in my chest.

After dinner, I headed back to my room, barely surviving another round of chaotic family chatter. The entire girl squad had officially declared my room as the headquarters for tonight for all things skincare since only two days were left until the wedding. Two. Days. Left.

"Ya Allah..." I mumbled under my breath, placing a hand on my chest, "Just thinking about this is making my heart go boom boom like a fire alarm." I shook my head, trying to calm myself as I loosened my hijab.

I began removing the pins when my eyes fell on a paper bag on my nightstand.

Wait—what?

I frowned.

"I already packed all the shopping... so what's this?" I mumbled and walked over to it.

Inside was a small, square box. I slowly lifted it out, my eyebrows scrunched. Curious and slightly confused, I opened it and gasped.

It was the watch.

The exact same rose-gold, minimal, elegant watch I had stared at in the store. The one I had not bought.

I blinked. "Wait... I didn't get this. How did this even—?" I whispered, gently running my fingers across the smooth surface of the dial, the delicate shimmer of the band catching the warm light of my lamp.

A soft smile crept onto my lips before confusion struck again.

Okay wait. Who bought it?

"Laiba?" No, she was with me the whole time.

"Ruman api?" Nope.

"Rayyan bhai? Zayyan bhai? Aliya? Nouran api?" They weren't even there at the shop.

Then... who?

My eyes widened as a realization hit me like a lightning bolt.

"Zaigham?"

My heartbeat actually stumbled for a second.

Could it be?

Did he buy it?

But he was on a call at the time...

Or was he?

I gasped, clutching the watch to my chest. Oh no. I couldn't just sit here and overthink like a teenager. I needed to confirm it.

Without wasting another second, I marched out of my room, the watch box still in my hand, and headed straight to his room.

Because if he did buy it...

I needed answers. And maybe a new heartbeat because mine was going haywire.

I knocked on the door, heart drumming like an absolute maniac.

"Come in," his voice came from inside, calm as ever.

I stepped in and spotted him seated on the chair, focused on his laptop, typing something. When he noticed me, he glanced up, one eyebrow raised.

"What happened?"

I narrowed my eyes like a detective in a murder mystery.

Without saying a word, I dramatically pulled my hand from behind my back and held up the watch.

He blinked.

Then looked at the watch.

"What's this?" he asked, completely straight-faced.

Oh, we're playing clueless now?

Cute.

"That was my line, Mr. Khan," I said with exaggerated calm. "What. Is. This?"

He stood up from the chair, and just like that, the air changed.

Suddenly, he was right in front of me, way too close, towering over me with that quiet intensity of his.

Okay fine, I'm 5'3". I'm not short. He's just tall.

"It's a watch," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Why are you showing it to me?"

I folded my arms. "You bought it, didn't you?"

He didn't say anything. Just looked away.

My jaw dropped a little. So I was right.

"Why would you buy something that expensive?" I asked, eyes wide, voice slightly breathless because... um, well... he looked away.

He turned to look at me again, and for a second, just one small second, his grey eyes softened.

Oh no.

My tough exterior was one sarcastic line away from melting. Inside, it wasn't just butterflies. A whole zoo was hosting a carnival in my stomach.

He raised a brow and said, "You're never on time for the office. Thought maybe if you wore a watch, you'd finally learn how to show up like a civilized human."

He shrugged.

I blinked.

Then squinted.

Then grinned.

This man. This infuriating, smug, arrogant man.

"Right, right," I said with a nod. "Of course. That's exactly why you bought it. Out of concern for my punctuality. Not because I looked at it like a lovesick puppy."

He didn't respond. Just that usual unreadable expression on his face.

I opened the box again and pulled the watch out. Somehow, now that I knew he bought it for me... it looked even more beautiful.

Wait... what am I even saying?

Zoya Khan, control yourself.

This is not the time to be mentally writing poetry about a wristwatch.

I picked up the watch and tried to fasten it around my wrist, but it kept slipping.

Ugh. Why are these clasps so complicated?

"Here, let me do it," he said, stepping closer.

I froze.

He took the watch from my hands and gently secured it around my wrist. His fingers brushed against my skin as he worked, and just like that, I got goosebumps. My entire brain short-circuited for a second.

When he finished, I lifted my wrist and admired it like a five-year-old holding glitter pen.

"It's so beautiful," I whispered, completely in awe.

And then I felt his gaze on me.

I turned to look at him, and he was already watching me... eyes softer than I'd ever seen them. There was something quiet in his expression, something unspoken. I grinned, wide and goofy and full of teeth.

"Thank you so much," I said, voice embarrassingly full of emotion.

And I don't know what possessed me...maybe a mood swing, maybe a moment of hormonal chaos, or maybe I just completely lost my mind...but before I could think twice, I stepped forward and hugged him.

I felt him tense immediately. For a second, he didn't move. And then slowly, almost hesitantly, his arm came around me.

I smiled against his chest, and my heart... yeah, it was thundering. Loud enough to drown out every thought in my head.

I pulled away quickly, realizing what I'd just done. He looked down at me with those unreadable grey eyes, but there was something there. A hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. So small it almost wasn't real.

"Go now. I have work to do," he said, turning back to his desk, his voice calm and clipped.

I rolled my eyes. There he goes again.

"Yeah yeah, I'm leaving, Mr. Husband," I said with a smirk as I backed out of the room.

The moment I stepped out, I touched my warm cheeks.

Ya Allah... what even was that?

My heart was still racing. I was still grinning. And somewhere deep inside, the butterflies were absolutely losing their minds.

To be Continued....