Until It Was Real

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

The courtyard glowed under strings of golden lights, marigolds swaying gently in the breeze, their fragrance lingering in the air.

Guests filled the space in vibrant clothes, laughter and chatter echoing against the decorated walls.

At the center sat Nouran, draped in a deep mustard and green outfit, the bride-to-be glowing with every compliment thrown her way. Aayan stood beside her, trying his best to appear composed, though the mischievous smirks of his siblings and cousins kept tugging at his patience.

Laiba and Rumman were already on her case, one holding her hand steady while the other tried to balance the mehndi tray.

"Stop shaking it, Rumman, you'll spill it all over my clothes!" Nouran complained, half-laughing.

"I'm not shaking it! It's Laiba, she's poking me with her elbow!" Rumman shot back, glaring.

"I'm not poking, you're in my way!" Laiba argued, leaning against her on purpose.

Zoya clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking from laughing too hard. "Honestly, you two are giving Nouran api more stress than the actual wedding will."

That earned her a cushion to the face — courtesy of Rumman — which made her yelp and dive behind Aaliya for cover.

"Don't drag me into this!" Aaliya laughed, trying to fix the mess Rumman had made of her dupatta while dodging Zoya at the same time.

On the other side of the courtyard, Zaviyaar had stolen a plate of sweets and was smugly eating gulab jamun while Rayyan tried to snatch it back.

"You already had three!" Rayyan said, reaching for the plate.

"And you had four," Zaviyaar shot back, holding it out of reach.

Zayyan, watching the chaos unfold, leaned back on the cushions with a grin.

Zaigham tried to scold him, but ended up being quiet when Zoya suddenly joined the sweet-snatching war, darting after Zaviyaar. "Give me one! Just one!"

"Not happening!" he shouted, dodging her like they were kids again.

The corner of the garden had unofficially been claimed by the younger lot...Zoya, Aaliya, Laiba, Rumman, Ayat, and Rayyan sprawled there with a wicked grin, egging everyone on.

A half-empty bowl of chits sat in the middle, filled with scribbled dares and truths that had already caused enough chaos to make half the cousins cry with laughter.

Zoya was still wiping tears from her eyes from Rumman's turn, she had just been forced to recite a full cheesy poetry to the Aunty passing by. Aaliya was still recording him, dying with laughter.

"Okay, okay," Laiba said, finally catching her breath. "Next!" She shuffled through the chits dramatically, before smirking. "But wait... why are we only playing with ourselves?"

Her sharp gaze landed on Yusra, who had been quietly sitting at the edge, clutching her dupatta as if trying to stay invisible.

Yusra sat quietly, adjusting the bangles on her wrists. She looked like she was trying very hard not to draw attention, which of course made her the perfect target.

"No-no-no-no!" Yusra panicked immediately, shaking her head. "Don't you dare drag me into this. I'm not even officially part of your gang."

"Too late," Rumman said with a mischievous grin. "Once you sit here, you're part of the gang. That's the rule."

Rayyan chimed. "Exactly. And since you're a guest, you don't get a truth, you get a dare straight away."

Yusra's eyes widened. "What? That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair," Zoya said in a mock serious tone, making Aaliya snort.

Laiba leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Your dare is simple. Take this—" she held up a bottle of jasmine oil with an evil flourish, "—and go put it in Zayyan's hair."

The entire group burst into laughter instantly.

Yusra nearly fell back in shock. "WHAT?! Are you insane? I can't—absolutely not!"

"Oh, come on," Aaliya nudged her. "It's harmless. Just a little oil. He won't even notice."

Yusra's cheeks flushed crimson. "Are you guys mad? This oil—it's for the groom, not for random cousins! This breaks all mehndi traditions! He will think I've lost my mind!"

"Relax," Rumman waved it off. "Zayyan won't magically become the groom if a few drops of oil touch his head. Chill."

Rayyan smirked. "Besides, imagine how shiny his lawyer head will look."

Everyone cracked up again, while Yusra covered her face with both hands. "No, please, give me something else. Anything else!"

"Rules are rules," Laiba sang. "You've got to do it, or we'll come up with something even worse."

Zoya leaned closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Come on, Yusra. Don't tell me you're scared of Zayyan?"

That hit the spot—Yusra shot her a glare, muttering under her breath, but the chorus of chants had already started: "Yusra! Yusra! Yusra!"

With her heart hammering in her chest and the cousins practically pushing her up, she finally stood, clutching the jasmine oil like it was a grenade about to go off.

Yusra's palms were clammy around the small glass bottle, every step toward Zayyan feeling like a march toward her doom. The group trailed her from behind at a safe distance, muffling their laughter in dupattas and hands.

Zayyan sat off to the side, looking utterly unbothered by the chaos of the mehndi.

Dressed in a black kurta with a tailored waistcoat, he was scrolling through something on his phone, brows furrowed in concentration.

He looked every bit the intimidating lawyer he was, precisely the reason Yusra's stomach was tying itself into tighter knots.

She cleared her throat softly. "Uh... excuse me..."

He didn't even glance up. "What is it, Yusra?" His tone was calm, the same he used when correcting her in class.

Her heart sank. Why does he always have to sound like a grumpy grandpa?

"I just..." she stammered, clutching the bottle tighter. The cousins behind her were making exaggerated 'go on!' gestures. "Um... I thought your hair looked... dry."

That finally made him look up, one brow arching in suspicion. His gaze dropped to the bottle in her hand.

"Is that—" he started, but before he could finish, Yusra screwed her eyes shut, muttered a rushed prayer, and dabbed the oil on her fingertips.

And then, she ran her fingers through the edge of his neatly styled hair, just enough to leave a sheen of jasmine.

A chorus of muffled squeals erupted from behind. Rumman nearly doubled over trying not to laugh, and Zoya had to clutch Aaliya's arm to keep from collapsing entirely.

Zayyan went utterly still, his jaw tightening. Slowly, he reached up, touched his hair, and looked at his now slightly shiny fingers. Then his eyes cut back to Yusra, dangerous in their silence.

Yusra wanted the earth to swallow her whole. "I-It was... a dare," she whispered, voice barely audible.

His lips curved—though whether into a smirk or a warning, she couldn't tell. "A dare." His voice was low. "From children?"

Behind her, Zoya called out cheekily, "Not children, a secret gang!" which sent the group into another fit of giggles.

For a moment, Yusra thought he might actually scold her in front of everyone. But instead, he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping so she could hear.

"Next time, Yusra, think very carefully before agreeing to something this foolish."

Her cheeks burned. She nodded quickly, ready to flee.

Of course, they pounced on her the second she returned. Laiba clapped like she had won a bet, Rumman dramatically declared her a "warrior of dares," and Aaliya teased, "So, professor liked the oil or no?"

Zoya added the final blow, grinning wickedly. "Not professor... driver bhai, remember?"

Yusra buried her face in her dupatta while the group exploded in laughter all over again.

The chaos was wild, everyone laughing, enjoying. Zoya was right in the middle of it, her dupatta slipping as she tried to protest while Laiba and Aaliya pulled her.

Everyone else was distracted by the noise.

But me?

I only saw her.

The way her dimples flashed when she finally gave in and laughed. The way her eyes shone brighter than the chandeliers. The curve of her lips, the little nervous bite she gave them when too many eyes were on her.

Her hands moved animatedly as she teased Nouran, and every time she bit her lower lip to hold back her grin, I felt something coil tighter in my chest.

Green had always been my weakness on her, the delicate fall of her dupatta brushing against her jhumkas.

And I stared. Shamelessly. I just....couldn't stop.

"Stop gawking at my sister, bhai. People will notice." Ayaan's voice slid beside me, teasing, smug.

I looked at him. My lips curled into, a slow smirk. "Careful, Ayaan. I can say the same to you."

He choked on his drink, muttering something under his breath while walking away.

I chuckled.

I was satisfied enough to turn back—and that's when her eyes caught mine.

Our eyes collided across the crowd, and for the briefest second, everything stilled.

She froze, lips parting slightly, that smile faltering into something softer...shy, uncertain.

Her fingers toyed with the corner of her dupatta, her lashes flickering down, then back up like she wasn't sure what to do with the weight of my stare.

I didn't look away. Not once. If anything, I leaned forward, letting the corner of my mouth curl the way it always did when I knew I had her flustered.

She bit her lip again, glanced away, only to peek back when she thought I wasn't watching. She should've known better by now.

I tilted my head slightly, a quiet gesture.

Her brows furrowed. She shook her head ever so slightly, lips parting as if to whisper across the distance. Not now.

I smirked. Subtle. Small. But deliberate.

Then my gaze dipped, deliberate again, then back at her, a silent dare. Now.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She tried to hide it, pretending to laugh at something Aaliya said, but her eyes came back to me...hesitant, resisting, and then... giving in.

A slow, almost invisible nod.

I smiled lowly.

I slipped out as quietly as I could, heart pounding against my ribs.

The mehndi function was in full swing, and the smell of fresh flowers thick in the air.

But here—backside of the garden—there was nothing.

Just dim fairy lights on the trees, soft shadows, and the cool night breeze brushing against my cheeks.

I wrapped my dupatta tighter around me, glancing back once.

"Zoya, what are you even doing?" I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes at myself. "There's no one here... maybe I should just go back before someone sees me wandering like a fool—"

Before I could take another step, a strong hand reached out from the shadows, pulling me sharply to the side. My breath hitched, panic shooting through me as I gasped, "Wh—"

My heart leapt into my throat as I spun around, panic flashing through me, only to find myself staring straight into the eyes I knew too well.

The panic melted away so quickly. I exhaled, but it came out shaky, betraying how unsettled he made me. "You scared me," I whispered, though my voice sounded more like a confession than complaint.

He didn't answer immediately. His gaze moved over my face, unhurried, tracing me like he was memorizing every detail. His closeness, the way he stood without leaving me an inch of space, made the night air feel suddenly too warm.

"You came," he finally said, his voice low, threaded with something that made my stomach flutter.

"I said I would," I replied, trying for steadiness, but even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "You always say you won't... and yet here you are."

I looked down, only for his fingers to tilt my chin up gently, making me meet his eyes again. That look...steady, unreadable, yet carrying a storm underneath, made me forget how to breathe.

"Zaigham..." my voice came out softer than I intended, my heart hammering as if it would give me away.

"Yes, Zaigham's sweetheart?" he shot back instantly, eyes glinting.

I blinked, stunned, then made a face. "Ugh. That's so cringey."

He chuckled low. "What can I say? You bring out the side of me I didn't even know existed."

"Sure, blame me," I teased, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not blaming. I'm... confessing," he said softly.

I couldn't help smiling. My arms looped around his neck as I rose on my toes, trying to reach him, but the ridiculous height difference only made me wobble.

With a frustrated huff I almost backed away, but his hand caught my waist firmly, and then, with one smooth move, he guided my feet up onto his.

I gasped at the sudden closeness. He looked utterly smug.

"Better?" he murmured.

I let out a nervous laugh. "You could've just bent down, you know."

"And miss the sight of you struggling for me? Not a chance." His smirk deepened, and my blush only burned hotter.

I broke into laughter, shaking my head. He tilted his head curiously. "Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing," I said, still smiling. "Just remembered something."

His brows lifted. "What?"

"The dare," I whispered.

Recognition flashed in his eyes. His mouth curved. "Ah, the one where you almost drowned in my spicy cologne?"

My face went crimson. "Stop it."

His grin widened. "Never."

I tried to wriggle free. "Okay, let me go now. Mama and Tayi Jaan must be looking for me."

He shook his head stubbornly. "Nope."

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me? Why not?"

His thumb brushed my cheek softly, his voice dropping. "Because you look too beautiful right now. I don't feel like letting you go."

Heat rushed to my face again. "Zaigham—"

"Nope," he cut me off, smirking. "Not unless you give me a kiss first."

My eyes widened. "What? No!"

"Just one," he whispered, leaning closer.

I bit my lip nervously, smiling despite myself, and shook my head. His eyes instantly darkened, grip tightening around my waist.

"Zoya..." his voice was rough. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" I murmured back.

"Don't bite your lip like that." He rasped.

I arched a brow at him—and deliberately did it again.

His eyes practically burned, his jaw tightening. He dipped his head closer, and just as his lips brushed mine—

A loud throat-clear broke the moment.

I jolted, shoving him back like I'd been electrocuted. My face turned scarlet when I saw Layla Chachi standing there, arms folded, eyes dancing with mischief.

Zaigham groaned under his breath. "Perfect. Just perfect. Moment ruined."

"Chachi—it's not—it wasn't—" I stammered, but she just chuckled.

"If you two are quite done with your... secret romance," she teased, "the whole family is waiting. The rasm is about to start."

And with that, she walked away, tossing playfully over her shoulder, "Hurry up!"

I buried my face in my hands, completely mortified, while Zaigham just stood, entirely unbothered.

The moment Chachi's footsteps faded, I spun around and pointed a finger at him.

"This is all your fault," I whispered furiously, my cheeks still on fire. "If you hadn't called me out here, none of this would've happened. Chachi wouldn't have caught us—"

He raised his brows, looking completely unbothered. "My fault?" He even had the audacity to look innocent. "I was sitting there quietly. You're the one who looked too tempting to ignore."

I gaped at him. "Hawww!"

"What?" he asked, lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest in mock indignation. "You seriously need to control yourself, Mr. Zaigham."

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice just enough to make my heart stutter. "That's the problem, sweetheart. When it comes to you, I can't help myself."

My lips parted, but no words came out. His smirk told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

I slapped his bicep. "Shameless."

He tipped his head back and laughed, the deep sound rolling out of him, so unguarded and rare it made my stomach flip. And I just stood there, staring like an idiot, thinking Ya Allah,why does he have to look that good when he laughs?

I realized I was staring when his eyes dropped back to mine, dark and curious. My face heated instantly, and I quickly grabbed his hand to distract from my very obvious staring. His fingers curled around mine as I intertwined them.

"Come on," I said softly, tugging his hand. "Let's go back inside before anyone else comes looking for us."

He didn't move right away, just squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a slow stroke that made my stomach flutter. "Fine," he said with a reluctant smile. "But only because you asked so sweetly."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't hide my smile as we finally walked back.

The rasm-e-henna finally began, and the energy in the room shifted instantly.Nouran api and Ayyan bhai,sat like royal prisoners.

Poor souls.

First came Deeda and Dada. Deeda, as always, made it look like a grand ceremony. She placed the betel leaf with henna on Nouran api's palm with so much dignity, you'd think she was blessing a queen. Dada slipped some money into Ayyan bhai's pocket, making the whole crowd laugh.

Then it was Taya Jaan and Tayii Jaan. Tayii Jaan was dead serious, carefully positioning the leaf as if it were a heart surgery, muttering strict instructions to poor Nouran api about not moving even an inch. Meanwhile, Taya Jaan stuffed a full laddu into Ayyan bhai's mouth that he nearly coughed.

The whole hall roared with laughter.

Next came Mama and Baba. Mama was all smiles as she placed the leaf sweetly, while Baba couldn't resist turning it into a speech.

"This is just the beginning!" he declared, dramatically pointing at the audience.

"The real henna comes tomorrow." Nouran api's face turned so red she practically disappeared into her dupatta while everyone clapped and laughed.

Then Chachu and Chachi. Chachi leaned down and whispered something into Nouran api's ear that made her cheeks flame even brighter, while Chachu purposely missed Ayyan bhai's palm entirely and pressed the leaf on his sleeve instead.

"Oops, where did his hand go?" he said with mock innocence, and the whole crowd lost it.

And then... it was our turn.

That's when the cousins decided to turn into cheerleaders, clapping and stomping until I thought the stage would collapse.

Zaigham, looked calm and regal as ever, walking beside me. Meanwhile, I was trying not to trip over my dupatta and die in front of everyone.

We sat down, and the clapping only got louder.

I carefully dabbed the betel leaf with henna onto Nouran api's palm, keeping my face neutral, my face stayed neutral, though inside I was fighting the urge to laugh.

People usually get nervous in crowds, but for me, it's the opposite—I feel like laughing.

Zaigham followed smoothly, placing the leaf on Ayyan bhai's hand.

Behind us, I could hear Laiba whispering loudly to Rumman api, "Look at them! Zaigham bhai is acting like he's at a board meeting."

I turned and gave them my best death glare, which only made them laugh harder.

Then came the sweets. I managed to feed Nouran api without dropping anything, feeling proud for surviving... until Laiba and Rayyan bhai screamed in unison, "Now feed Zaigham bhai too!"

Excuse me? WHAT?

My brain went into full meltdown mode. This is not part of the rasm rulebook.

No one, in the thousand-year history of mehndis, has ever forced a newly minted couple to hand-feed each other sweets on stage, in front of every living relative.

I could literally feel Deeda's laser-sharp eyes from the front row. Any second now, she'd summon me with that "Come here, girl" finger curl and give me a lecture about dignity and the responsibilities of a daughter-in-law, and I'd just... evaporate.

And then Zaviyaar, clapping like a circus host, yelling, "Don't be shy, Zoya! It's tradition now!"

Tradition, my foot. He was enjoying my public humiliation.

I snuck a glance at Zaigham, silently begging him to shut this circus down with one of his CEO glares.

Instead, he tilted his head toward me, lips twitching, eyes glinting with wicked amusement.

"Go ahead," he murmured low, only for me. "I'll cooperate."

I wanted to smack him. Or vanish. Or both.

But instead, with every nerve in my body screaming mutiny, I shoved the ladoo toward him so fast that he had to catch my wrist to slow me down,otherwise I might've suffocated him on the spot.

The crowd absolutely lost it. People were clapping, whistling, screaming. And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, Zayyan bhai stood up dramatically, threw his arms in the air, and yelled, "What a pair! Look at that chemistry!"

The hall erupted into chaos once again.

Ayyan bhai leaned down to my ear. "You just had to steal the spotlight here too, didn't you, Zoya?"

I grinned shamelessly, whispering back, "Hehe, what can I say? It's just my personality, bhai. Your sister was born to shine."

He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Yeah, yeah, I can see that. Two seconds ago you were about to trip and faceplant into the tray, and now you're giving me lectures about personality."

I gasped, offended. "Bhaaiiii! That's so mean!"

He chuckled, shaking his head as he straightened up.

By the time we finally reached our room, my entire body felt like it was dragging itself. I threw my dupatta onto the couch, pulled out my jhumkas with a wince, and let out a groan of relief.

The room suddenly felt too quiet after all the chaos of chatter downstairs.

I slipped into the washroom and changed into a soft dress, tying my damp hair into a loose bun. My face looked a little washed out in the mirror, but I didn't even care.

When I came out, Zaigham was already back from freshening up too.

He was perched on the other side of bed, his laptop opened in his lap, typing away like the day hadn't drained him.

Typical.

Meanwhile, I collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, loosened my braid a little, and sat cross-legged, pressing my thumbs into my sore feet. Even though I was barefoot now, the dull ache from hours in refused to go away.

"Finally," I muttered, pressing my thumbs into my aching arches.

His eyes lifted from the screen immediately. "Zoya, what's wrong?"

I waved a hand weakly, "Nothing. Just... tired. My feet feel like they have run a marathon. And my back too."

He closed his laptop with a soft click and set it aside, his attention fixed solely on me now. "Lie down."

I frowned, confused. "Why?"

"Just do it," he said, his voice calm.

Reluctantly, I stretched back against the pillows, watching him curiously. A second later, he sat at the foot of the bed and—before I could even guess—took hold of my feet.

I instantly sat up straight, pulling them back. "Zaigham! What are you doing?"

He gave me a flat look. "What does it look like? I'm massaging your feet."

Heat rushed to my face. "No—you can't. Please don't. It feels... wrong. You shouldn't be touching my feet."

His expression was so done that I almost laughed. "Zoya, stop overthinking. It's just me and you. And for the record, caring isn't just a wife's duty...it's a husband's too. So now, lie down and let me do this."

I blinked at him, stunned at the seriousness in his tone. For a second, I almost wanted to argue again, but he tilted his head, his eyes soft but firm in a way that made my chest tighten.

"Zoya," he added quietly, "you've been running around since morning. At least let me ease some of it."

My throat went dry. He wasn't going to let this go. With a sigh, I lay back down, covering my face with one arm. "Fine. But I'm still not comfortable."

He smirked. "You will thank me in two minutes."

And he was right. The moment his warm hands pressed against the sore muscles of my feet, a small gasp slipped out before I could stop it. It felt... so good. My whole body relaxed without my permission.

"You see?" he murmured, smug. "You fight me for no reason, but the moment I touch you—"

"Zaigham!" I interrupted, shooting him a glare, my cheeks on fire.

He chuckled lowly, and continued, his fingers working carefully, easing out the knots of tension.

Slowly, he moved up to my calves, pressing gently, and I sighed again, unable to help it.

After sometime, a knock at the door broke the silence. I sat up quickly, but Zaigham's hand on my shin kept me from moving. "Stay," he murmured before standing and walking to the door.

It was the maid, holding a tray with two steaming cups.

Zaigham thanked her curtly, took the tray, and shut the door again.

When he returned, he set the tray on the side table and handed me the cup of tea. His eyes softened as he watched me wrap my hands around the warm porcelain.

"Better?" he asked.

I sipped slowly, the sweetness of the tea grounding me. "Hmm...."

"You'll feel better after resting properly," he said, returning to his spot at the edge of the bed.

I sipped quietly, but my eyes lingered on him over the rim of the cup.

He looked far too composed for someone who had just endured hours of family chaos. Meanwhile, I felt like a melted popsicle by this muscle soreness.

"You're such a good husband," I blurted before I could stop myself. Then, almost without thinking, I muttered, "And here I used to call you—" My words caught, and I bit my tongue, eyes widening.

He raised one brow, amused. "What was that, Zoya? I didn't catch it."

I shook my head furiously. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

The smirk deepened. "No, no. Come on, tell me. What was it?"

I hugged the teacup to my chest like a shield. "There's nothing to tell, Zaigham."

He leaned in a little, his voice dropping lower, teasing. "You're lying. And you're terrible at it. So, what did you used to call me?"

My face warmed, and I groaned dramatically. "Ugh, fine... I used to call you... Akroo Khan." My voice was muffled, barely above a whisper.

For a second there was silence, and then, he chuckled.

My jaw dropped.

"You—you already knew?!"

"Of course, I knew," he said, eyes glinting with mischief as he looked back at me. "Do you really think my ears miss anything in this house? Especially when it's about me?"

I gasped, covering my face with my hands. "Oh my Allah. That's embarrassing."

He tugged gently at my wrist, pulling my hand down until our eyes met. "It's not embarrassing. Honestly?" His smile softened, that teasing edge fading into something warmer. "It suits me. I was exactly that with you, wasn't I?"

I bit back a smile, nodding reluctantly. "You were impossible. So cold. So... untouchable. The great Akroo Khan who terrified me every time he so much as looked my way."

"And now?" he asked, tilting his head, watching me like he already knew the answer.

I fiddled with my dupatta, cheeks warm. "Now you're... my comfort. my peace. my safe place...my support, my home.... in-short everything— a perfect Husband."

For a second, he didn't move. Just watched me like he was memorizing every word. Then, slow as always, his smirk curved into a softer smile.

He leaned in and pecked my forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more." I replied back, smiling.

To be Continued....

Hehe, sorry you all had to sit through a full-on mehndi function here ?? Don't forget—khana kha ke jana, okay???

Vote and Comment....??