Until It Was Real

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

The car came to a gentle halt in front of Khan Mansion.

Zaigham stepped out first, and then he came around to my side. He opened the door and extended his hand, the faintest crease of worry etched into his forehead. I smiled at him faintly as I slipped my hand into his, letting him help me out.

"Zoya, are you sure you're okay? If you're feeling weak... I can carry you, you know." His voice was low, steady, but I heard the tremor buried beneath it.

I looked up at him, my lips parting into the softest smile. "Zaigham, I'm perfectly fine now. Don't worry."

He didn't respond immediately. His grey eyes lingered on mine for a long second, as though weighing my words, silently demanding reassurance. Then, with a quiet hum, he released a breath and nodded, slipping his hand to the small of my back.

We began to walk toward the mansion side by side.

We headed inside. The familiar scent of home wrapped around me like a blanket.

"Asalamu Alaikum," I greeted softly, my voice still carrying a trace of fatigue, as I spotted Mama and Chachi sitting in the living room, teacups in hand, lost in gossip.

"Walaikum Salaam," they replied warmly in unison, their eyes briefly glancing at me before returning to their chatter.

"Assalamu Alaikum," came Zaigham's deep voice from behind me, resonating through the room like it always did, effortlessly commanding attention.

"Walaikum Salaam, beta," Mama responded with a small smile.

I turned toward the kitchen arch. "Shireen apa, please make tea for me and Zaigham," I called to our cook.

"Yes, baji," she replied immediately from within, the clattering of cups following her words.

As Zaigham and I began moving toward the staircase.

"You go up to the room. I'll come in a bit," he said, his voice calm yet threaded with something heavier.

I only nodded. "Alright."

I ascended the stairs slowly, my body heavier than usual, and entered our room. Dropping my bag onto the stand, I exhaled a long breath.

My fingers reached up to loosen my hijab, but the moment the fabric slipped from my head, the dull throb in my skull sharpened. The headache had been hovering since the afternoon, but now it felt like the weight of the entire day was pressing down on me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands massaging my scalp in slow, desperate circles I opened my clutch and my hair fall free relaxing me a bit.

With every press of my fingertips, my mind raced back to the suffocating darkness of the elevator, the way my chest had caved in, the moment before everything went black.

No. This wasn't just a random incident. The thought sliced through me again, sharper this time. It doesn't look like an accident from any angle. The lift was working perfectly fine since morning, every single time... and now, suddenly, when I was inside—

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping my hair slightly. "Ugh," I groaned aloud, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I'll go mad if I keep replaying this. Since the moment I regained consciousness, all I've been doing is circling back to the same question, who could have done this?

I reached for the wipes on the vanity, my hands moving almost automatically. Slowly, carefully, I wiped away the traces of makeup, watching the day's exhaustion smear across the cotton pad.

One by one, I set them aside, my reflection in the mirror looking paler.

Zoya, you're overthinking. Nothing like that happened.

I forced the words out in a whisper, a self-reminder, though my heart refused to believe it.

Shaking my head, I stood up, determined to push the thoughts away. My fingers slid across the closet handles, pulling out a set of soft, comfortable clothes.

Maybe a warm bath would help.

I stepped out of the bathroom after freshening up, feeling a little lighter but still drained.

Zaigham still wasn't in the room.

I frowned and shrugged....probably work. With Ayaan bhai and Nouran api's wedding coming closer, his workload had only increased. The thought made me sigh as I picked up the towel and began drying my damp hair.

The rhythmic motion of the towel against my scalp was almost calming, until a knock echoed on the door.

"Who is it?" I called out, my voice lower than usual.

"It's me, baji. I've brought your tea," Shireen replied from outside.

"Come in," I said. She entered with a tray, but I noticed only one cup placed neatly on it.

My brows knitted together. "And Zaigham's cup?"

"Oh, baji, he asked for his tea to be sent to the study," she answered politely.

"The study?" I repeated, my chest tightening.

He just came home... without even taking a breath, he's already back to work again. A helpless sigh escaped my lips, but I didn't argue further. "Okay."

Shireen placed the cup on the side table and left. I wrapped my fingers around the warm porcelain. The steam curled upward. I took a slow sip, the warm liquid easing out the pounding in my head.

Just then, the door burst open with a chorus of girlish chatter. Laiba, Aaliya, and Rumman api entered like a whirlwind, dragging a shy, blushing Nouran api behind them.

"Zoya! We're going shopping, come with us!" Laiba grinned, practically bouncing with excitement.

Aaliya rolled her eyes at her sister. "Why are you even asking her? Don't you already know she's going to say yes?"

I laughed softly, shaking my head. I did want to go... but after everything that happened today, my whole body aches. And this headache is not helping either.

We hadn't told anyone else what had happened, and we had asked Rayyan bhai and Nouran api to keep it a secret too. No use worrying the entire homies.

"Hello, madam?" Rumman api waved a hand in front of my eyes, pulling me back from my thoughts.

I startled slightly. "What?"

"Where did you drift off to?" she teased, her gaze warm but curious.

"Nowhere," I whispered quickly, then added, "No, Laiba, you girls go ahead. My head really hurts today."

Laiba's face fell into a pout. "Zoya, please come. It will be so much fun."

Before I could protest again, Aaliya leaned in with that mischievous smile of hers. "Yes, come with us. And don't worry, we'll cure that headache of yours too. Shopping is the best medicine."

I sighed heavily, the corners of my lips twitching upward despite the pain. Their energy was infectious. "Fine. Okay, I'll come. Give me five minutes to get ready."

"There you go!" Laiba clapped her hands, beaming.

"Don't take forever," Aaliya warned, though her smile betrayed her happiness.

They rushed out of the room, their laughter echoing faintly down the hallway only Nouran api left.

"Zoya are you okay now?" Nouran api asked concerned.

I smiled at her. "Yes, I am api."

"You sure?" she playfully squinted at me.

I laughed lightly. "Yes, Yes."

She smiled and then walked out.

I groaned softly, leaning my head back for a second. "Uff... come on, Zoya, get ready."

Dragging myself up, I changed into a loose top and jeans, something comfortable. I wrapped my hijab around my head neatly, pinning it in place with tired fingers.

My body screamed for rest, but my heart knew my sisters needed me too. Quickly slicking on a little lip gloss, I stared at my reflection.

Perfect.

I hurried down the stairs, almost skidding in my pace.

Wait, should I tell Zaigham?

Yes... better to tell him now. Otherwise later, he'll worry about why I went out when I wasn't feeling well.

I reached the study door.

Without bothering to knock, I pushed the door open.

Zaigham was at his chair, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, fully immersed in a stack of files. His pen moved swiftly. But what made my blood simmer was the presence of Mahveen.

She sat across from him, pretending to go through some papers but her gaze, unashamed, unhidden—was fixed on my husband as if he were the only thing in the room worth seeing.

I cleared my throat deliberately.

Zaigham's head instantly lifted. "Oh, Zoya? Do you need something? Are you feeling okay?" His chair scraped softly against the floor as he immediately rose and walked toward me.

"N-no... I don't need anything," I stammered, suddenly flustered. "Actually... I just came to tell you I'm going shopping."

He stopped in front of me, eyes searching my face. "But are you sure you're feeling alright?" His voice lowered as his hand came up, warm fingers brushing against my cheek.

Heat rushed up my neck, my skin turning crimson under his touch. Especially because from the corner of my eye, I could see Mahveen. Her eyes were practically spitting fire, her face tight with jealousy at the casual intimacy Zaigham showed me without hesitation.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said with a small smile, ignoring the daggers she was throwing our way. "It's just a mild headache. It'll be gone soon."

He didn't look convinced, but he gave a small nod. "Who's taking you all?"

"Uh... Zayyan bhai and Ayaan bhai," I replied.

"Good," he murmured, and then leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead.

I blinked. "Zaigham... what are you doing? She's in the room," I whispered nervously, stealing a glance at Mahveen, who looked like she might combust any second.

A small smile tugged at his lips. "It doesn't matter."

My heart flipped at his calm audacity, and I couldn't help but chuckle, flustered.

I turned to leave but stopped halfway, crossing my arms over my chest. "Wait a second. You just came back from the office... and without even a moment's breath, you're already drowning yourself in work again?"

His brows drew together, then smoothed as he exhaled. "Zoya, the workload is heavy right now. This upcoming deal is very important for the company. On top of that, there's the wedding this weekend. I can't afford to slow down."

Concern prickled at my chest. I knew how much strain he was putting on himself, but I also knew he would never admit it.

And then, like poison, the voice cut in from behind him.

"Some of us have to work hard to maintain the company, Zoya," Mahveen said, her tone sweet laced with hidden venom. "Unlike you... we don't have the freedom to sit around all the time."

My head snapped toward her. She was smirking, as if she had just scored a victory.

I smiled sweetly in return.

"Oh, you're right, Mahveen. Not everyone is fortunate enough to find a man who trusts them to stand by his side without questioning their worth. Some have to keep forcing themselves into places they don't belong... just to feel noticed."

Her smirk faltered, the color draining from her face.

Zaigham chuckled under his breath, a low, deep sound that filled the room. The way his lips twitched only fueled her jealousy further, and I didn't miss the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as if he enjoyed watching me claim my ground.

Without giving her another glance, I straightened my posture and turned back toward the door.

I had barely turned toward the door, when his voice cut through softly—

"Wait."

I paused, glancing back.

Zaigham reached for his wallet on the desk, his movements unhurried. Sliding out his sleek card, he extended it toward me....his eyes locking with mine instantly, unwavering and intent.

"Enjoy," he murmured, his voice low, carrying an authority that left no room for refusal.

Before I could reply, he leaned forward again just enough, pressing a brief, quiet kiss to my forehead.

My lips curved into a helpless smile as I accepted the card. "Thank you," I whispered.

"I'll see you later," I said softly to him.

And with that, I walked out, my footsteps light but my heart heavy with triumph.

The ride to the mall was anything but peaceful.

"Laiba, move your elbow! You're literally stabbing my ribs!" I complained dramatically from the middle seat.

"Excuse me, it's not my fault Ayaan bhai has shoulders the size of a truck," Laiba shot back, shoving me lightly.

He suddenly muttered under his breath, dripping with sarcasm, "First of all I am not even sitting beside you and second should I just flap my arms and fly out of the window instead of driving?"

We burst out laughing while Laiba smiled sheepishly.

From the passenger seat, Zayyan bhai leaned back lazily. "Yaar bhai, your wedding is this weekend. Why are you acting frustrated like a bride?"

I gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, Zayyan bhai! What do you mean like a bride, huh? You can't just bash us girls like that!"

He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, bhabhi. My mistake."

"Stop calling me bhabhi!" I groaned.

"Why not? Aren't you our bhabhi?" he smirked, making the whole car erupt in laughter.

"Ugh, no, I am Zoya! Just Zoya!" I pouted, which only made everyone laugh harder.

"Even my head's starting to hurt now," Aaliya complained, slumping in her seat beside me.

"Ayaan bhai, come on, play something."

He rolled his eyes, pressing a button. "Bluetooth's on. Help yourself."

She sighed dramatically, scrolling through playlists before finally putting on some soft nasheeds.

"Ugh, Aaliya, lower the volume. My head's bursting already," I groaned, covering my ears.

She gave me a long-suffering eye roll. "Fine, princess. Is this better?"

Before I could sass back, Rumman api piped up from the back, her tone playful. "By the way, Ayaan bhai, what are you getting for bhabhi today?"

"Whatever she asks for," he replied calmly, glancing at her through the mirror.

The car instantly exploded into hoots and whistles like a pack of poisoned wolves.

"Woooow, look at Mr. Romantic over here!" Laiba teased, clapping.

"Calm down, Romeo!" Zayyan bhai added with a grin.

"Shut up, all of you!" Nouran api muttered, her cheeks blazing red as she quickly turned her face toward the window.

I laughed. "Oh my Allah, api, you're glowing! Should we call the florist and book roses already?"

Laiba and Aaliya burst into another fit of giggles while Ayaan bhai cleared his throat loudly, glaring at us through the rearview mirror. But the corner of his lips twitched, betraying a small smile he tried very hard to hide.

The moment we pulled into the mall parking lot, chaos began.

"Laiba, stop pushing me, I'm not your shopping bag!" I yelped as she tried to shove past me to get out first.

"Then hurry up! Do you walk or do you float?" she shot back.

"Excuse you, I glide with elegance," I replied with a non-existent hair flip, making Aaliya laugh so hard she almost tripped getting out of the car.

Inside the mall, we were already attracting stares. Seven people together, half of us bickering, the other half pretending we weren't related.

"Okay, listen," Ayaan bhai said in his serious elder-brother voice, "we're here to shop for the wedding. No drama. Everyone stick together."

"Yes, Captain Serious," I saluted him with a grin.

"Don't call me that—"

But too late, because Laiba had already joined in: "Aye aye, Captain Serious!" She marched ahead like a soldier, and Aaliya followed, mimicking a drum beat.

Rumman api sighed dramatically, "Ya Allah, why did I come with these people?"

"Because you love us," I chimed, linking my arm with hers.

We split into two groups soon after, though Ayaan bhai kept insisting everyone stay in one place.

Of course, nobody listened. I spotted a gorgeous sherwani display in the men's section and gasped. "That! That one will look amazing on you, Ayaan bhai!"

Before he could stop me, I grabbed Nouran api's hand and dragged her closer to the mannequins. "Api, look! Don't you think it will suit him perfectly?"

Poor Nouran api turned crimson, staring anywhere but the outfit. "I–I guess..." she whispered.

I nudged her playfully. "Ahaan! Guess? Or YES? Come on, say it, api!"

"Laiba, did you hear that?" I called over my shoulder, making sure Ayaan bhai heard every word too.

Laiba smirked. "I did. Nouran api approves!"

Meanwhile, Zayyan bhai had wandered off, pretending he wasn't part of this circus. "Can we hurry up? People are staring. We look like a comedy troupe."

"Correction," I shot back, "we are a comedy troupe. You're just the grumpy manager."

The girls burst out laughing.

The sherwani drama ended with Ayaan bhai groaning, "Fine! I'll try it, just stop shouting my name across the entire mall."

We clapped like he had just agreed to a Nobel prize speech, and poor Nouran api was practically hiding behind her dupatta.

From there, chaos rolled into the women's section. Laiba and I went wild. I grabbed three dresses, five pairs of shoes, and an unnecessary but very sparkly clutch. Aaliya was holding up two gowns in front of the mirror like she was auditioning for a Disney princess movie.

"Guys, focus," Rumman api said, folding her arms. "We're here for wedding shopping, not your personal fashion show."

"Excuse me," I replied, hugging the clutch dramatically, "this is my contribution to the wedding. Do you want me to attend in boring clothes?"

Laiba snorted. "When have you ever been boring?"

We laughed and fought our way through jewelry counters, dupatta stalls, and shoe racks until our arms were loaded with shopping bags.

Finally, Ayaan bhai said, "We are done. Time to go."

But of course, we weren't done. Because just as we passed the men's section, my eyes landed on a shirt.

A deep charcoal grey, slim fit, faint silver detailing along the buttons.

I paused. My lips curved into a smile before I even realized it.

It will look good on him, I thought.

Laiba caught it instantly. "Uh-oh. Look at her face. That's the 'I found something for someone special' smile."

"Whaaat? No, this would just... look nice. On him."

"Oh-ho-ho," Zayyan bhai dragged out the sound, smirking. "On him. Who's him, hmm?"

I rolled my eyes. "Stop it! You guys are so nosy. I'm buying this, end of discussion."

But then I spotted a rack of hoodies, simple, cozy, and soft. Midnight blue, forest green, and one in classic black. Without thinking twice, I picked three.

Laiba gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Oh my Allah. She's nesting. Our Zoya is nesting!"

Everyone burst into laughter.

"Careful," Zayyan bhai added wickedly. "Next thing you know, she will be buying matching coffee mugs and monogrammed towels."

My face burned. "I— just... I thought he'd like them. That's it!"

I turned to the cashier, handing her the shirts and my card as she slid it through.

Wow. I'm buying clothes for my husband.

Using his card.

Wow wow . Zoya Khan, Wife of the Year, ladies and gentlemen. Applause please.

Ayaan bhai raised a brow, clearly enjoying this more than he should. "You've got expensive taste in hoodies for someone who claims she 'just thought he'd like them.'"

I stuffed the bags into his hands. "Carry them and keep quiet."

It was almost midnight when we finally dragged ourselves back home. The house was silent, every light dimmed except for the warm glow of the hallway lamps. Everyone else had long gone to bed. My arms ached with all the shopping bags, but my heart was light with laughter from the day.

I tiptoed into our room, expecting him to be asleep by now. Maybe curled under the blanket, the way I'd find him some mornings, calm and at peace.

But instead he sat in his chair, laptop open, glasses perched on his nose, eyes focused and sharp despite the late hour. His posture screamed exhaustion.

My lips curved softly. "Assalam u Alaikum," I whispered.

His gaze flicked up, and the gruff reply came, low and tired but warm, "Wa Alaikum Assalam."

I slipped away to freshen up. When I returned, I found him still working, the glow of the screen against his face.

Quietly, I walked up behind him and slid my arms gently around his neck, resting my cheek against his hair. My voice came out as a whisper. "Why are you still working, Zaigham? Please... rest now."

He exhaled, long and weary, and then caught my hand in his. His lips brushed against my palm, lingering. "Was waiting for you," he murmured, voice husky. "So decided to work until then."

My heart did a flip. I leaned closer, my hair spilling over his shoulder, brushing against his cheek. "You didn't have to wait," I said softly, though a shy smile tugged at my lips.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes on the screen, but his attention was entirely on me.

Without another word, I came around to his front, gently lifted the laptop from his lap, and placed it aside. He arched a brow at me in that quietly commanding way of his, as though asking what I was up to.

I didn't answer. Instead, I sat down in his lap, slipping my arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

For a second, he just inhaled deeply, his face buried against my shoulder, his arms coming around me slowly—possessively. That small action alone made my chest ache.

"I missed you," I whispered, my voice embarrassingly soft.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "It was just a few hours, Zoya."

I pulled back with a pout, lips jutting childishly. "Still..."

That smile—the one he never showed anyone else—broke across his face. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against my pout, making me gasp softly and glance away, cheeks burning.

"You must be so tired," I murmured, brushing my fingers against his jaw. "Should I make you coffee?"

He shook his head, eyes never leaving mine. "No. It's okay, Zoya. You're tired too."

I narrowed my eyes playfully, squinting at him. "So what? I can make it. I'll be right back."

But before I could slip away, his hand caught mine, firm, steady, pulling me back to him. His voice dropped, softer than I'd ever heard. "No, baby. Leave it. I don't need coffee..." His thumb stroked against my skin, his eyes deep and burning into mine. "...I just need you."

My breath caught, my heart turning into a thousand fluttering wings. I leaned my forehead against his, smiling helplessly. "Okay then... let's sleep?"

He gave the smallest nod, but instead of letting go, he tightened his hold. His arms locked around me like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And then, in one smooth motion, he stood, lifting me into his arms as though I weighed nothing.

"Zaigham!" I squealed, half-laughing, half-scandalized. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

His lips brushed against my hair, his voice low, final. "No."

My laughter melted into warmth as he carried me to bed, refusing to let me go until we were both tangled together under the blanket. His arms cocooned me in that possessive, unshakable embrace, his breath soft against my ear.

I nestled closer, my own arms wrapping around him, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

And just like that, in the quiet of the night, we drifted into sleep, wrapped around each other.

The first thing I felt was warmth.

Soft. Fragile. Alive.

I opened my eyes to find her tucked into me, her small hand resting against my chest. Her face was half-hidden in me, lips parted in the faintest pout, hair falling across her cheek in a messy wave.

For a long moment, I didn't move. I just watched.

The rise and fall of her breathing, the way she pressed closer even in her sleep.

I lifted a hand and brushed the strands away from her forehead. My thumb lingered there, tracing the delicate curve of her temple. I bent down, pressed my lips against her skin, and breathed her in. She stirred, a tiny sound leaving her throat, before burrowing even deeper against me.

A smile pulled at my mouth. I tightened my hold around her waist.

"Zoya," I whispered.

She mumbled something that made no sense, clutching at my shirt like a child refusing to let go.

Her stubbornness made me chuckle.

"Wake up," I coaxed, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Her lashes fluttered, but she groaned and shook her head, muffling her voice against me. "No... five more minutes."

I smiled. "You've already had more than five hours."

I tightened my hold around her waist, watching her lashes flutter as she tried to hide deeper into me.

"Zoya, baby..." my voice was low, but firm, "wake up. We have a meeting to attend today, we can't be late."

She groaned softly, the sound muffled against my chest, and then peeked up at me with sleepy eyes. Her pout was so exaggerated it almost made me laugh.

With a sigh, she finally stirred, stretching her arms above her head.

The movement was lazy, catlike, her small frame arching as she yawned.

I caught myself staring, my eyes tracing every line of her.

She looked so disarmingly innocent like that, sitting up with her hair tumbling messily around her face, blinking against the morning light.

"Five more minutes would have been perfect," she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

I chuckled, leaning back against the headboard, arms folded as I admired her. "If I give you five, you'll ask for ten. And then an hour. You're not negotiating with me, Zoya."

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though she tried to hide it. She stretched again, this time twisting slightly, her back arching as her hands went behind her head. My gaze sharpened unconsciously. She had no idea what she looked like when she did that.

Her eyes flicked toward me then, catching the way I was watching. The blush rose instantly to her cheeks. "Stop staring," she whispered.

"I'm not staring." My voice dropped, slower. "I'm reminding myself why I bother with mornings at all."

She shook her head quickly, embarrassed, and slid off the bed. "I should get ready..." she murmured, avoiding my gaze.

I reached out, catching her wrist before she could take another step. She looked back, startled.

"You forgot something."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

I arched a brow at her. "Morning greetings."

She blinked, before leaning closer and whispering shyly, "Good morning..."

"Morning," I murmured back, before leaning in to press a soft peck against her forehead.

She smiled, and slid off the bed to get ready. I pushed myself up a moment later, following suit.

Today the meeting is so important, I hope there won't be any problem.

To be Continued....

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