Until It Was Real

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

I was sitting in my old room with the whole squad...Laiba, Rumman api, Ayat, Aaliya, Inaya, and Nouran api.

Pillows everywhere.

Aaliya suddenly leaned in dramatically like she was revealing a deep secret.

"So, Zoyaaa... what magic did you do on Zaigham bhai? Hm? The man was defending you like a knight in shining armor."

I rolled my eyes so hard they could've hit the back of my skull.

"No magic. Zero magic. He was the one who kept me awake the entire night. So obviously, he had to defend me in the morning."

Nouran api literally choked on air.

I blinked at her.

"What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

Then it hit me. The way I said it.

Oh. My. Allah.

Their faces was full of suppressed laughter.

My face? Full of regret.

"Wait...NO! I didn't mean it like that! Oh my Allah, stop smiling like that, you creeps!"

And then... they all burst out laughing like a pack of hyenas.

"Laiba!" I grabbed a cushion and smacked her square on the head because she was laughing like a dying horse.

"I swear, I will kill you if you don't shut up in one minute!"

I pouted and huffed dramatically.

"I was awake because Mr. Akroo Khan made me go to the kitchen at TWO in the night to make coffee!"

Inaya gasped like I told her the biggest scandal ever.

"Wait—what?! Bhai made you make coffee? On your wedding night?!"

I nodded miserably, ignoring the part where I was the one who started the whole coffee bet thing. Hehe. Oops.

"That is so SAD," Ayat said with fake sympathy.

"Aww, our poor Zoya stuck for life time now," Nouran api teased, trying not to laugh again.

"Apiiiii!" I whined, burying my face in a pillow.

They were all giggling like maniacs.

Rumman api waved her hand. "Okay, okay, leave the coffee tragedy for now. Tell us about the gift. What did he give you?"

Immediately, I perked up like a kid with candy. "Oh, you guys are gonna die when you see this."

I grinned like the Cheshire Cat, slid my hijab off my neck, and let them see it.

Gasps. Actual gasps.

"It's so BEAUTIFUL, MashAllah!" Laiba exclaimed, grabbing my hand to look closer. "I know, right?! Like... look at this beauty!" I said, admiring it with them.

"Honestly, I still can't believe it. " I pressed a hand to my forehead dramatically.

"Someone pinch me. I'm living in an alternate universe."

Rumman api gave me the most unimpressed look ever. "Zoya, now you're just being dramatic."

I swatted her arm playfully. "Excuse me, let me have my moment!"

Laiba smirked. "So, did he put it on you himself?"

The room exploded again with laughter and squeals.

"Laiba! I will literally throw you out of this window!" I yelled, grabbing another pillow and chasing her around the room.

We were all in full gossip mode when there was a knock at the door.

"Yes, bhaiii?" we chorused like a choir.

Ayyan bhai poked his head in, looking slightly awkward. "Uh... can I borrow my wife for a minute?"

Instant silence. Then Nouran api practically turned into a tomato.

"Oh. My." Laiba smirked like the devil herself. "Of course, take her! How romantic. Can't even stay without her for five minutes, hmm?"

Aaliya joined in, giggling like crazy. "Someone's in loveee!"

I grabbed a cushion and threw it at them. "Stop it, you guys!"

Nouran api covered her face with her dupatta, muttering, "Shut up. All of you. Seriously!"

Then she dashed out like the room was on fire, and Ayyan bhai just shook his head with a tiny smile before disappearing with her.

The moment the door closed behind them.

"OW-OW! Did you see her face?" Aaliya squealed. "Bro, she looked like she was about to combust!"

Laiba flopped on the bed dramatically. "I swear, this house is like a live drama. First Zoya and her Akroo Khan, now this!"

"Excuse me!" I sat up. "What do you mean by 'first Zoya and Akroo Khan'? Huh?"

Laiba grinned wickedly. "You know exactly what I mean, Mrs. Khan."

My cheeks heated up instantly. "Ugh, I hate you all. I'm leaving."

I walked into the room, humming casually, and then froze.

Mahveen.

Sitting on the couch way too close to Zaigham. Like, zero concept of personal space. And of course, my dear husband was calmly typing away on his laptop.

But then...oh, you are kidding me...she placed her hand on his hand! On the laptop. On purpose as she spotted me, with that fake innocent face.

I gritted my teeth so hard I'm surprised they didn't turn into diamonds.

Excuse me, missy, what exactly are you trying to do? Conduct a business meeting or audition for a cheap drama?

I cleared my throat. Loud. Like LOUD loud.

Zaigham looked up for half a second. Half. A. Second. Then went right back to the screen.

I gasped internally. He just... ignored me.

He. Ignored. His wife. For a girl practically glued to his arm.

Okay. Cool. Totally fine. No big deal. People ignore their wives every day.

THEY DO NOT, ZOYA!

I stomped over to the bed and sat down with a thud. The entire bed frame probably cried out in pain.

They both looked at me for, like, two seconds. Then... BACK to the laptop.

I could feel the volcano bubbling inside me. And could erupt any second now—BOOM.

Nope. Not today. I got up and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it probably filed for harassment.

I stared at my reflection like a crazy woman.

What is wrong with them? What is she even trying to do? And him? What happens to his brain cells when she's around? Do they just... take a vacation? Huh?!

I splashed water on my face dramatically.

And excuse me, sir...since when do you sit so comfortably with anyone? When I come near you, you look like someone plugged you into a 440-volt wire.

But HER?

I leaned closer to the mirror, pointing at myself.

Listen, Zoya. You are his WIFE. Got that? Not girlfriend. Not a side character in some family drama. WIFE. Period.

I tilted my head, examining my reflection.

Okay, fine. She's pretty. BUT so what? You are prettier. Prettier AND smarter. Okay, maybe not smarter because you're currently having an argument with your own reflection...but STILL.

I groaned, grabbed the towel, and wiped my face aggressively.

Calm down, Zoya. Breathe in, breathe out. You are a mature, elegant woman. You will walk out there like a QUEEN and—

I stopped, glaring at myself.

Ha! Who am I kidding? I'm about to go WWE on someone.

I shook my head, rolled my eyes at myself, and stormed out of the bathroom, ready to reclaim my territory.

I came back into the room, fully prepared to do WWE.

But she was gone.

Zaigham was Sitting on the couch, no laptop this time, leaning back like he owned the territory. One arm lazily resting on the armrest, his legs wide open in a perfect manspread.

Ya Allah, why does this man look so Hot doing absolutely nothing? His shirt hugging his body his arms, veins peeking out, hair slightly messy. Was this a photoshoot or real life?

Focus, Zoya. You are not here to drool over your husband. You are MAD at him!

Angry wife mode ON.

I walked to the dresser and started loosening my hijab slowly, pretending he didn't exist.

"Zoya," he called from behind me.

I ignored him. Completely.

"Zoya," he said again, a little louder this time.

Still ignored. I was in full Oscar-worthy performance mode.

"Stop ignoring me, Zoya," his voice came out firm now.

I turned around dramatically, narrowing my eyes. "Seriously?"

He raised a brow. "What?"

I stomped toward him and stopped right in front of his ridiculously handsome self. Teeth gritted, I asked through a fake smile, "What do you want?"

"Coffee," he said casually.

My jaw dropped. Coffee? COFFEE?! I stared at him like he had grown horns.

"Oh really? Coffee?" I threw my hands up. "Why don't you go and ask Mahveen to make you some? You two seem so... comfortable together."

He blinked at me, confused at first, then something clicked. His brows furrowed slightly. "You're my wife, not her."

I smiled sweetly, though my brain was screaming a hundred insults. Before I could stop myself, my mouth had already declared war.

"Oh really? Because it didn't look like that a few minutes ago.

She sits so close to you, like GLUED to your side.

..like she's the wife here. You never seem that relaxed with me.

When, I come near you and you act like someone plugged you into an electric socket, but HER?

Oh please, make yourself comfortable, Mahveen!

Need a pillow too?! And don't even get me started on the touching, does she NOT know you're non-mahram for her?

! Or does that rule magically disappear when she's around? "

By the time I finished my rant, I was practically breathing fire.

And what does my dear husband do? He smirks. A freaking SMIRK.

That smug, slow, heart-stopping smirk that makes you want to throw a pillow at his handsome face.

"You know what Nevermind!"

I rolled my eyes dramatically and turned around to leave.

But before I could take two steps, I felt a strong arm grasping my wrist.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting on his lap as he pulled me. HIS LAP. Like, my entire world just flipped upside down in one swift motion.

My eyes went wide like saucers. "W-What the—"

He looked straight into my soul, eyes glinting with amusement. "Jealous much, are we?"

I turned my head away, ignoring the fact that my heart was racing.

"I am NOT jealous," I muttered under my breath. Which was a big, fat lie and we both knew it.

He chuckled low, and damn, why does that sound illegal? He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek softly.

"I see," he murmured. "But someone just said something about being the wife and not getting enough attention."

My eyes widened. "I-I didn't—I was just—"

"Hmm?" His voice was smooth, teasing, and way too dangerous for my weak heart.

"L-Leave me!" I stammered like an idiot, trying to get up. But his grip only tightened around my waist, pulling me closer.

"W-What are you doing?" I squeaked, mentally cursing myself for stuttering.

His voice dropped an octave. "My wife just complained about something. I'm trying to make up for it."

I gasped. Like, literally gasped so loud I could hear my ancestors judging me. "I—I didn't mean it like that! It was in anger, I—uh—"

"Tayii Jaan!" I suddenly yelled, pointing at the door like a total idiot.

He turned his head instinctively and in that two-second window of opportunity, I flew off his lap like a bird escaping a cage, bolting out of the room with cheeks redder than a tomato.

Haneen was in the kitchen, bossing the cook around like Gordon Ramsay when she told one of the house staff, "Call Zayyan for me."

Two minutes later, Zayyan walked in, smiling like he wasn't about to have his whole life ruined.

"Yes, Chachi Jan? You called me?" he asked politely.

"Yes, beta." Haneen gave him that sweet smile—the dangerous one. "I need you to go to the airport."

Zayyan blinked. "The airport? Why? Did we buy a plane now? Should I bring the pilot home?"

Haneen chuckled and swatted his arm. "No, silly. Someone is coming from Pakistan. You have to pick her up."

"Ooooh, it's a her?" Zayyan smirked dramatically. "Wait—don't tell me—Mahira Khan?! Is she coming to marry me? Chachi, I should've worn a tux!"

Haneen laughed, shaking her head. "You wish, Romeo. No, beta. My friend's daughter is coming from Pakistan, and your future student."

"Ah." Zayyan nodded slowly... then froze. "Wait. Did you just say my student?!"

"Yes." Haneen grinned like this was good news.

"Excuse me, what? No, my gorgeous, intelligent, innocent Chachi, you are mistaken. I do NOT teach random girls picked up from airports!"

Haneen folded her arms. "Well, beta, she's coming here to study law. And since my handsome nephew is already a successful lawyer, why not make her your student and help her a little?"

"Oh no no no." Zayyan held his hands up. "Absolutely not. I did NOT sign up for a babysitting internship!"

Haneen ignored the drama. "And because of this wedding madness, I can't go, and Ayyan is busy. So YOU are going. End of story."

Zayyan sighed, defeated. "Fine. Send me her details."

"Oh, and make sure you greet her nicely, as she is going to be your student" Nazneen's voice boomed from across the kitchen like a death sentence.

Zayyan turned, horrified. "Mama?! Why me?"

Nazneen walked in, looking unbothered. "Because you're a successful lawyer. It won't kill you to supervise someone for a few months."

"Mama, but I can't—"

"No buts." Nazneen cut him off like a judge delivering a verdict. "And take Rayyan with you. Now go before I give you a grocery list too."

Zayyan stood there, staring into the void like a man questioning all his life choices.

"Great. Just great. From lawyer to Uber driver. What's next? Ramu kaka?!," he muttered under his breath.

Rayyan checked his watch for what felt like the 999th time and groaned dramatically, loud enough for the janitor to glance at him.

"Bro, where is your guest? Is she walking from Pakistan? Did her plane run out of fuel over the Atlantic?!"

Zayyan rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "She's not my guest, Rayyan. And why are you asking me? Do I look like her GPS??!"

Rayyan smirked. "Fine, your future student. Where's your precious little law prodigy then? Should I send her a legal notice to show up?"

Zayyan sighed, ignoring the sarcasm.

"Oh wait," Rayyan tilted his head, grinning. "Do you even know what she looks like?"

"...No."

Rayyan froze mid-dramatic pose. "WHAT?! You dragged me here and you don't even know her face?!" He slapped his forehead.

"I know her name," Zayyan said like that solved world hunger.

"Oh wow, genius. And that is?"

"Yusra."

Rayyan blinked. "Just Yusra? No surname? No photo? brO, what are we supposed to do? Stand on a chair and scream, 'WHO IS YUSRA? PLEASE CLAIM YOUR FREE DRIVER SERVICE!'"

Zayyan gave him a murderous glare. "I swear, Rayyan—"

But his threat died mid-air because BAM—someone slammed into him so hard his phone nearly flew into another country.

"What the—" Zayyan started, but the girl exploded first.

"HELLO?! Do you not have EYES?! Who stands in the middle of the airport like a statue?! Thanks to you, my iced tea is DEAD. MURDERED. GONE FOREVER!" She held up the empty cup like evidence in a murder trial.

Rayyan supressed his laughter.

Zayyan stared at her. "Excuse me? Am I standing in the middle or were YOU storming through like a bull in a shopping mall?"

The girl gasped so loudly people actually turned to look. "WOW. You bump into me, spill my iced tea, and now I'm the problem?!"

Rayyan was practically wheezing now. "Oh my God, bro... she came armed with feminism."

Before Zayyan could reply back, his phone rang. He picked up, grinding his teeth. "Yeah... no, that girl Yusra still hasn't—"

The girl in front of him GASPED so hard the airport echoed.

"WAIT. YOU'RE THE GUY?!"

"...What?" Zayyan blinked.

"You're the one Haneen Aunty sent to pick me up, right? I'M YUSRA!" She grinned like she just solved world peace.

Before Zayyan could process this life-altering trauma, Rayyan jumped in .

"FINALLY! Miss VIP has graced us with her presence!"

"Oh my God, thank you!" Yusra said dramatically... then pointed at Zayyan.

"You must be the Driver bhai Aunty mentioned!"

Rayyan collapsed onto a chair, clutching his stomach.

"brO. brO. SHE PROMOTED YOU TO DRIVER BHAI!"

Zayyan froze. "...Excuse me?"

"The driver," Yusra said sweetly, like it was obvious. "Could you please take my luggage to the car, driver bhai? And make it quick. Chop-chop. Time is money."

"Wait—listen—" Zayyan tried, but she cut him off like a boss.

"No time, driver bhai. We're LATE. Do you want me to show up late on my FIRST day? My Professor will think I'm irresponsible!"

Rayyan slapped his knee. "brO, THE PROFESSOR IS THE DRIVER! I CAN'T brEATHE!"

"And you," Yusra turned to Rayyan, "stop laughing and open the car door. Aren't you like... the assistant driver or something?"

Rayyan fell to the ground this time. "Assistant driver?! LORD TAKE ME!"

Yusra flopped into the backseat like a celebrity entering a limo.

"Wow, this car is CLEAN. Do you wash it yourself, driver bhai? Or is that part of the perks?"

Rayyan slapped the dashboard, wheezing.

Zayyan gripped the steering wheel so tight the leather squeaked. "I'm Not a driver."

"Oh, of course not." Yusra nodded with mock sympathy. "You're like... the HEAD driver. The manager of all drivers. Big position."

Rayyan howled. "HEAD DRIVER! Bro, you need a uniform and a badge!"

"Rayyan..." Zayyan's voice was low. Deadly.

"Driver bhai," Yusra interrupted, leaning forward, "do you take song requests? Because this ride is giving me... funeral vibes." She grabbed the AUX cord without waiting for an answer and blasted Bollywood item songs at full volume.

"YES! THIS is the ENERGY!" She clapped along, then looked at Zayyan through the mirror.

"Come on, driver bhai! Nod your head! Live a little!"

Rayyan had his phone out, recording everything.

"Rayyan, PUT. THAT. AWAY."

"Stop yelling at your assistant," Yusra scolded. "It's not professional, driver bhai."

Zayyan inhaled slowly. Patience, God. Give me patience. Or give me a gun.

Then Yusra yelled, "STOP THE CAR!"

Zayyan hit the brakes so hard and Rayyan screamed. "WHAT NOW?!"

"Iced tea," Yusra announced casually. "You spilled my last one. Buy me a new one. Or I'll complain to Haneen Aunty about her driver's attitude."

Zayyan gritted his teeth. "You know what? Fine." He stopped at the first café.

When he came back with the iced tea, Yusra sipped it like a queen.

"Mmm. Five stars for effort, driver bhai. Keep this up and you might even get a TIP."

Rayyan laughed like a hyena. "brO... IMAGINE THE FAMILY HEARING THIS!"

Zayyan muttered under his breath, "They won't hear. Because you're both going missing tonight."

The car screeched into the driveway, and before Zayyan could even put it in park, Yusra flung the door open like she was stepping onto a red carpet. She marched into the house, dragging her luggage behind her like she owned the place.

"Assalam-u-alaikum, ANTI!!!" she yelled dramatically the second she spotted Haneen in the living room.

Haneen stood up, smiling warmly. "Wa-alaikum-salaam, beta. Come in! Everything okay? How was the flight?"

"Oh, perfect, Anti. And guess what? Your Driverand his assistant brought me here safe and sound!" Yusra chirped proudly, dropping her bags like a movie heroine.

Haneen froze. "...Driver?" Her smile stiffened. "Wait... what?"

"Yes! That guy you sent! The head driver, by the way. He drove SO fast, Anti, like Vin Diesel. I almost thought we were in Fast & Furious: Canada Drift."

Haneen blinked, confused. "Beta... I sent Zayyan to pick you up."

Yusra frowned. "Zayyan? No, no. It was definitely Driver Bhai." She grinned proudly. "Such a hardworking man. Zero sense of humor, though. Needs improvement in customer service."

At that exact moment, Zayyan walked in behind her... looking like a man whose soul had been set on fire and then stomped on by life. Rayyan followed, trying SO HARD not to laugh, but failing miserably, he was red in the face.

"Zayyan beta," Haneen said sweetly, "hope everything went smoothly?"

"Oh yes, Chachi." Zayyan's voice was dangerously calm, like a man planning a murder.

"Everything was... fantastic."

Yusra turned around and froze. Her iced tea almost fell again. Her jaw DROPPED.

"WAIT. WHAT?!" she screamed. "YOU?! You're—oh my God—you're my PROFESSOR?! THE PROFESSOR?!"

Zayyan's glare could have melted steel. "Surprise."

Everyone in the living room turned to look.

Layla was the first to break. "Wait... DID SHE SAY DRIVER BHAI?!"

Rayyan pointed at Zayyan, screaming with laughter. "YES. YES, SHE DID. Multiple times. At the airport. In the car. Bro, I have VIDEO PROOF!"

"VIDEO?!" Zayyan barked, spinning around.

"YEP!" Rayyan held his phone high like Simba in Lion King. "TikTok title: Rich Lawyer Turns Full-Time Uber Driver for Pakistani Girl."

Zoya was wheezing. "Driver Bhai! OMG, I'm calling you that forever!"

Inaya nearly fell off the sofa. "Imagine the courtroom. 'Objection, Your Honor.' 'Sustained, Driver Bhai.'"

Ayat clasped her hands together dramatically. "Driver Bhai... will you teach me how to parallel park?"

Zaarib, who usually kept his laughter controlled, BURST out laughing. He clutched the arm of the sofa, trying to breathe.

"Oh my God," he said between laughs, "This is GOLD."

Meanwhile, Yusra slapped her forehead. "Oh my God. OH MY GOD. I am so sorry, sir—I mean, not sir—Driver—I mean—Zayyan—I mean—"

"Oh please," Rayyan cut in. "Stick to Driver Bhai. It suits him. He was killing those turns like a pro."

Zayyan shot Rayyan a death glare. "Rayyan. Stop."

Nazneen finally spoke, holding back a laugh. "Beta... what exactly happened at the airport?"

"Oh, Aunty, let me tell you!" Yusra jumped in, completely ignoring Zayyan's silent death threats.

"First, he was just standing there, blocking traffic like a human billboard. Then—THEN—he spilled my iced tea. My precious iced tea. And instead of saying sorry, he gave me ATTITUDE."

Everyone gasped dramatically.

"Then," Yusra continued with a hand on her hip, "I found out he was MY DRIVER! So, naturally, I gave him some orders. Someone had to take charge."

"Orders?!" Zayyan finally snapped. "You made me stop for another iced tea in the middle of traffic!"

"Well, duh." Yusra shrugged. "You broke it. You bought it. It's called customer service."

Rayyan was on the floor by now. "Bro. Bro. She threatened to report him to Haneen Tayii jaan if he didn't buy her another iced tea!"

Everyone screamed laughing.

Aliya fanned herself. "This is better than Netflix."

Laiba grinned wickedly. "Driver Bhai... can you drop me at the mall tomorrow?"

Ayat clapped. "I'll ride shotgun!"

"NO ONE IS CALLING ME THAT AGAIN!" Zayyan roared.

Meanwhile, Yusra just stood there, chewing her lip, whispering to herself.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. I called my PROFESSOR... Driver Bhai... in front of EVERYONE. I'm going to die. Bury me in iced tea."

But then, like a true clueless queen, she looked up and chirped innocently.

"So, um... Driver Bhai—oops, I mean Sir—what time are my classes starting?"

The family? GONE. DEAD. Finished. from laughter.

The night air was calm, carrying the faint fragrance of roses from the garden. I stood near the edge of the lawn, hands in my pockets, staring at the dimly lit sky. Silence is a luxury in this house. tonight, I wanted some.

Footsteps. Light, hurried, almost dancing across the grass. Of course, her.

"Mr. Khan, brooding alone under the stars?" she said, her voice playful as always. She came into view wearing a simple long dress with a shawl wrapped around her head. For a moment, as always I forgot to breathe.

I kept my face neutral. Always neutral. "It's called fresh air. Something you should try instead of talking non-stop all day."

She gasped dramatically and put a hand to her chest. "Excuse me? Are you saying I talk too much? Because, I have been very quiet today. I only spoke for, like, three hours."

"Three hours of silence? Impressive. Must have been a national holiday."

She narrowed her eyes and walked closer, crossing her arms. "Wow. You're on fire tonight with sarcasm. Should I clap for you?"

I looked at her. The dim garden lights traced the outline of her face. the soft curve of her cheeks, that tiny mole near her lip, and those eyes. Mischievous, stubborn... yet so full of life. And those lips... I dragged my gaze away, clenching my jaw. What the hell is wrong with me?

"You're ignoring me again," she said, stepping right in front of me now. Her head tilted, and she was so close that I could smell her lavender scent.

"Zoya," I warned, because my control was hanging by a thread.

"Yes, dear husband?" she said sweetly, batting her lashes like she was in some cheesy drama.

I took a slow breath. "Why are you here?"

"Because you're here." She shrugged as if that explained everything. "Also, I was bored. Everyone's asleep. And I wanted to see what Mr. Always-Serious does when no one's around. Do you... talk to plants?"

I stared at her. She grinned like she just cracked the funniest joke on Earth.

Ya Allah, this woman.

"You really think you're funny, don't you?" I asked, my voice low.

"I don't think," she said, smiling wider. "I know."

I stepped closer. Just one step. But enough to make her words falter. Her grin wavered, her breath hitched. And that... that felt like victory.

"W-what?" she stammered.

I tilted my head slightly, looking straight into her wide eyes. "You talk too much, Zoya," I said softly.

She blinked. "And you... stare too much," she whispered before biting her lip.

Wrong move. My eyes immediately dropped there, and my chest tightened.

I looked away before I did something stupid. "Go inside," I said, turning back toward the shadows.

But her voice followed me, teasing as ever. "Why? Afraid you'll lose this staring contest, Mr. Khan?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because right now, the only thing I was losing... was control.

She didn't go inside. Of course, she didn't. Instead, she walked to the swing on the side porch and sat down

I exhaled, running a hand over my face.

This girl... She has no idea how far she can push me without even trying.

"Zoya." My voice was calm, clipped. "Go inside."

She didn't move. Just kept swaying, eyes on the dark sky like she was writing poetry in her head.

"Zoya." my voice firmer now, the edge sharper. "Inside."

That made her turn. Her smile fell, replaced with something heavier.

"Every time I come near you," she said quietly, "you send me away."

The words landed harder than I expected. I didn't mean to do that to her.

Allah knows I didn't. But distance, it's the only thing that keeps me sane.

Before I could speak, she added, voice trembling but laced with anger.

"You don't do that with Mahveen. She touches you... she gets close to you... and you don't say a word."

And there it was. The same conversation she tried to start earlier but didn't finish. Because she ran off before I could explain.

Never mind... that was my fault too.

I made her shy away then.

When Mahveen came to me about her admission process, despite me refusing.I still entertained her questions. And yes, I was fully aware of her leaning in, touching my arm, closing the space that wasn't hers to claim.

I didn't stop her. Not because I wanted her there. But because I saw Zoya standing at the door. I saw the flicker in her eyes when she noticed. The way her jaw tightened. The way she looked away like the sight burned.

And I....liked it. I liked watching her jealous. For once, she wasn't calm, wasn't polite.

For once, she cared enough to lose her composure.

So, I let it happen. I let Mahveen stay long enough for Zoya to react. But she did not react, and the second Zoya left for the bathroom, I asked Mahveen to leave. Immediately.

Because I couldn't stand her there...not when Zoya wasn't in the room.

Now she's standing in front of me, eyes bright with accusation, and I deserve every bit of it.

Brilliant, Zaigham. You wanted her reaction, and now you have it. Ugly and raw.

"It's not like that, Zoya," I said finally, voice low but firm.

She laughed without humor. "Of course not. You never say no to her, but you can't stand me sitting next to you."

"Enough." My tone hardened, cutting her words clean. She froze.

I stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her. My voice dropped, steady as steel.

"Don't compare yourself to anyone. Especially her."

Her chin lifted, defiant but trembling. "Then stop making me feel like I don't matter to you."

That one nearly undid me.

I broke the stare first, pulling the mask back on. "Go inside. Tomorrow is our walima. You need sleep."

She narrowed her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she stomped inside like a sulky child. I let her go, even though every instinct screamed to pull her back.

When the door shut behind her, I sat on the swing she abandoned and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, dragging a slow breath.

If only you knew, Zoya... what you do to me....even, I am confused.