Until It Was Real

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

It's been one week since that incident. I am here in the office, my hand idly rolling a paperweight across the desk, thoughts tangled in everything that happened and everything still unfolding.

Zoya... she has almost fully recovered, physically at least. She can walk now. The cuts on her feet have healed, though the scars remain, a quiet reminder of what she endured.

In this week, she hasn't countered a single member of the family, except her parents. I understand her perspective completely. She is not wrong. Whatever happened shook her to the core.

Everyone...from Dada Jaan to the younger ones, tried daily to reach out, to coax her back into normalcy, but she refused. She said she couldn't face them. I did not push her. I respected her need for space. I know she needs time. And I am more than willing to give it.

I've been working from home this past week.

I refused to leave her side, even as she recovered.

I simply couldn't. But madam has been relentless, pushing me to return to office work, insisting she can take care of herself, saying she's "not a baby.

" Now, Who is gonna tell her she is my baby? I chuckled at the thought.

Now I am hunting for a new secretary, while the previous one... I don't even want to think about her. I will find that serpent soon. I grit my teeth as memories of betrayal flash before my eyes.

She not only tried to tarnish my reputation, but she dared to hurt my wife. In my world, backstabbers do not go unpunished. I will ensure she regrets every single act of deceit.

The clock strikes nine. And the boardroom doors swing open, and my staff begins filing in with today's agenda. I sign off three files, crush an incompetent proposal in seconds, and dictate the corrections without even lifting my eyes from the page.

By mid-morning, I am seated across a boardroom table, negotiating terms that could decide the fate of two empires.

My rivals mask their greed behind rehearsed smiles, but I can smell desperation.

Every clause they push forward, I twist into my favor.

In the end, they leave the room defeated, contracts stamped with my terms.

The day passed in a blurry haze of meetings, deals, and a lot of pending tasks.

I sat in the back of the car, hands folded, the city unspooling by in long, indifferent streaks of light. The driver steered with the ease of habit; I barely registered the turns. Meetings and memos blurred into a smear of paper and polite voices, all of it dissolving at the thought of her.

She had a way of settling into the small hours of my mind, an image that didn't need context. Gosh, I'm already missing her so much.The city lights reflected in the window like a string of tiny promises.

My phone buzzed once and I ignored it. There would be time enough for the world later.

Right now the car felt like a capsule between yesterday and whatever the evening would bring.

The driver cleared his throat and checked the rearview, offering a small, practiced nod when we slowed at the gate of the house.

My brow tightened before I even crossed the threshold. Decorations shouldn't be unannounced. They implied intent, which in moments like this could be dangerous.

The living room had been turned cheerful in deliberate, awkward strips of color. Balloons floated at odd heights and a string of warm bulbs hung along the mantle. My mother and the others clustered in a soft line, their faces bright and hopeful in a way that tugged.

"Zaigham," my mother said before I could speak. She held a hand to her chest as if to steady herself in the face of my walk-in. "I need a favor."

I closed the distance to her in two strides. "What is it, mama?" My voice was even.

Her gaze flicked toward the staircase, and that was all I needed to know where this was going.

"You know Zoya hasn't been coming out of her room," she began gently.

"Not for meals, not for family gatherings.

Tonight, I want her downstairs. I want her surrounded by love, by family.

But she only listens to you, beta. At sharp 8, can you bring her down? "

My frown deepened, the line between my brows etched harder. The thought of forcing her into a crowd when she clearly didn't want it—it made something twist unpleasantly in my chest.

"Mama..." My voice carried a restraint.

But she lifted her hand, silencing me with that soft firmness only she could wield. "Shh, please? Just this once."

I looked at her calmly and unsure.

"Bhai, please!" Laiba jumped in, clasping her hands together dramatically, as if this were a stage performance.

"Yeah, bhai, come on," Rumman added, ever the easy instigator. Inaya chimed with a grin, "It's just you she will listen to."

I shut my eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of my nose. The weight of their expectations pressed down on me from every direction. Restraint and irritation burned under my skin.

But Mama's eyes softened with that unspoken plea, one that wrapped around my defenses tighter.

I exhaled, slow and sharp. "Fine."

The room erupted like they had just won some grand war. Laiba fist-pumped the air, Rumman let out an irritating cheer, Inaya clapped her hands.

I shook my head at their childish triumph.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and started up the staircase. Each step heavier, each thought louder.

I pushed open the door quietly, already rehearsing what I'd say to coax her downstairs. But the moment I stepped in, the air shifted.

She was standing in front of the mirror, back to me, unaware I was there.

Her jet black hair spilled over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the lamplight in a way that made her look so gorgeous than she already was.

Her delicate fingers fumbled with her earrings, the little frown on her lips making my chest ache.

I stopped. Just... stopped. The sight of her was enough to make me forget the entire house waiting below.

Without realizing, I tugged my coat off and placed it neatly over the chair. My feet carried me toward her like I didn't have a choice. A moment later, my arms slid around her waist, pulling her against me. Her body went stiff at first, then I felt the soft exhale as she melted back into me.

Her eyes flew to mine in the mirror, sparkling, shy. My reflection looked far less innocent, my gaze on her was unblinking, possessive.

"Assalam u alaikum, wifey," I murmured against her ear, my voice lower than I intended, roughened by the day's exhaustion and something else entirely.

Her cheeks flushed pink. "Wa alaikum assalam."

I lowered my face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. That scent—lavender—settled something restless in me. My lips brushed her shoulder lightly, not a kiss, just a quiet claim. "You smell like home."

Her fingers stilled on her earring. Her throat moved, but her voice came out in a soft, teasing tremor. "Do I?"

"You do," I said, firmer now, tightening my hold around her. My eyes trailed over her reflection.

"And you look... enticing enough to make me forget the entire day."

She bit her lip, hiding a smile. "You're exaggerating."

"Or maybe," I countered, tilting my head, "you're too modest to accept the truth."

Her gaze flicked to mine again in the mirror, softer this time. "yeah yeah" she whispered, like she knew what was about to come.

But I wasn't ready to let her off that easily. I pressed my nose into her shoulder, my voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me honestly. How are you? No lies, no pretending."

Her lashes lowered, her voice unsteady. "Better... when you're around."

For a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the silence stretch between us.

When I spoke again, my tone shifted, calmer, probing. "Did you go down today?"

I felt her freeze. Just a fraction of a second, but I didn't miss it. Then, the tiniest shake of her head.

A quiet sigh left me. I pressed my lips to her shoulder blade, lingering there before straightening.

"Alright," I murmured, pulling back. "I'll be back after freshening up."

She nodded silently.

I loosened my tie, already walking toward the wardrobe. "Pick my casuals for me, please" I told her, glancing back once. "Something comfortable."

He slid his watch off, placing it carefully on the dresser, then disappeared inside with the faint sound of running water following after.

I pulled out a pale grey shirt, held it against the light, then shook my head. Too formal. A crisp white one caught my attention next, clean, perfect, undeniably him. But my lips curved when I reached the navy one I had thought of earlier.

Yes. Navy.

I laid it on the bed, smoothing out the fabric carefully as if he'd notice even the smallest crease.

Next, I picked a pair of trousers, charcoal grey.

The water stopped inside.

The bathroom door clicked open, and steam curled out into the room like a whisper.

I froze. He stepped out. Just a towel slung low around his waist, damp hair falling over his forehead, droplets of water trailing down his chest before disappearing into the line of the towel.

My throat went completely dry.

I knew I should look away, decent, composed Zoya—but my eyes... oh, they betrayed me. They traced over the breadth of his shoulders, the cut of his chest, the sharp planes of muscle that flexed even as he rubbed the towel against his hair.

Heat climbed my face, and I quickly tucked my chin down, hoping he hadn't noticed.

But then—

He cleared his throat. Loudly. Deliberately.

My head snapped up, only to catch the unmistakable smirk tugging at his lips. Those marble-grey eyes glittered with amusement as he leaned a fraction closer, voice smooth and teasing.

"Enjoying the view, Mrs. Khan?"

I nearly choked on my breath. My cheeks burned, but I forced a shrug, feigning nonchalance I absolutely did not feel. "Well... it's not my fault if someone decides to parade around half-naked in my room."

His brows lifted, intrigued. "Half-naked?" His smirk deepened. "So you were keeping count?"

My heart thudded wildly. I lifted my chin higher, refusing to back down. "Observation skills," I shot back, pretending. "Very sharp ones. You should be flattered."

He chuckled, low and dangerous, the sound vibrating in the space between us. He took a slow step closer, water still clinging to his skin, making my throat go dry all over again.

"Flattered?" His voice dropped to a murmur, his eyes never leaving mine. "Sweetheart, I'm more than flattered. I'm wondering how long you will keep pretending you're not staring."

I bit my lip, instantly regretting it as his gaze flicked down, darkening, catching the tiny slip. My pulse skittered. Still, I forced a laugh and crossed my arms. "Maybe I am staring. So what? You're my husband, aren't you?"

He raised a brow. Then he stepped closer. And closer. Until my back brushed the cool wall behind me and my breath caught. His hands on either side of my head.

I looked up at him, helpless against the intensity in his gaze. The wet locks falling over his forehead half-shielded his eyes, making him look so hot. He leaned down, his lips a whisper away from my ear.

"Of course, wifey..." his breath tickled, voice husky and deliberate, "...I'm all yours."

And before I could react, his teeth grazed my earlobe in a sudden playful bite. A soft gasp escaped me, heat flooding my cheeks so violently I was sure he could feel it.

My hands, trapped between us, brushed against the warm firmness of his chest, and my heart stuttered. His skin was still damp, droplets sliding down, and I couldn't help but follow one with my eyes before quickly looking away, embarrassed at my own thoughts.

Zaigham caught it, of course. His smirk deepened, his voice silk and steel as he murmured, "Blushing again... hmm? You know, you give yourself away every single time."

"I–I do not," I whispered, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Really?" he drawled, tilting his head, damp hair falling dangerously to his forehead. He leaned even closer, so close that I had to press myself into the wall to breathe. "Then explain this shade of red on your cheeks, baby."

I swallowed hard, trying to act brave again. "Maybe... I just like annoying you."

He arched a brow, clearly amused. That slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, the kind that never failed to make my heart race. "Annoying me, hmm?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous purr. "And what if I don't let you get away with it?"

I pushed at his chest, firm and unyielding, but he didn't even budge. My palms pressed against solid muscle. The push that should've created space only reminded me how close we were, how immovable he was.

"Now go and change," I said with a smile.

For a second, his eyes narrowed in mock challenge, but then, with an infuriating smile, he dipped his head and pressed a quick peck to my forehead. And then he finally stepped back, disappearing into the wardrobe with that maddening confidence of his.

I exhaled, shaking my head, lips curving despite myself. Turning back to the mirror, I caught sight of my reflection, my cheeks flushed, hair slightly messy. Muttering under my breath, I began setting my hair, fingers combing through the strands to tame them.

But suddenly, a wave of nausea crawled up without warning. My stomach twisted violently, and my throat tightened. I barely had time to cover my mouth before I rushed into the bathroom, and emptying the contents of my stomach into the sink.

My body heaved, trembling as another wave threatened. I gripped the edge of the basin, trying to steady myself. Just when I thought I might fall apart, warmth brushed against me.

His fingers slid into my hair, pulling it back gently from my face, sparing me the mess. His steady palm rubbed my back, grounding me. His voice was low, urgent, but laced with tenderness.

"Baby, are you ok? What happened?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, coughing softly, before fumbling for the tap to rinse my mouth. Splashing cold water on my face, I finally managed a shaky whisper. "Yeah... I'm fine. Maybe it's just... indigestion."

He didn't sound convinced. "No, you're not fine." His tone had shifted back to that sharp, commanding edge. "We're going to the doctor. Right now."

I turned to him, shaking my head quickly, water dripping from my fingertips as I held onto the sink. "Zaigham, no. I'm fine. Trust me."

His jaw tightened. His eyes scanned my face, reading me the way he always did.

Finally, his voice dropped, softer this time. "You sure?"

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yep."

For another moment, he stood there, tense, unwilling to let it go. Then, with a heavy exhale, he stepped back, though his eyes never left me. I washed my face and hands properly, drying them with deliberate calm, before walking out of the bathroom.

I came out of the bathroom, drying my damp hands with the towel. My legs still felt a little unsteady, but I forced myself to stand tall. He was sitting at the edge of the bed now.

Before I could say anything, he spoke. "Come downstairs with me."

I blinked. "Downstairs?"

He leaned back on his palms, studying me with deceptive calm. "Yes. Let's... go to the garden for a while. The air will help. You've been cooped up in here all day."

I shifted uneasily, chewing on my lip. "Garden? Right now? I don't—"

"Zoya." His voice cut through, quiet but unyielding. "You need it." His gaze softened then, almost coaxing. "Come with me for a little while. Please?"

My heart stumbled at the word. Please. He hardly ever said it. I tried to find an excuse, to escape the intensity in his eyes, but it was useless. He could see right through me.

I sighed, giving in a fraction. "...Fine. But let me wear my hijab."

He nodded.

I followed him down the stairs, his hand still wrapped around mine. His presence anchored me, yet every step felt heavier, like my heart already knew something was waiting for me.

And then I saw it.

The hall was filled. Strings of soft lights glowed against the walls, the faint fragrance of flowers hung in the air, and in the center of it all stood my cousins and siblings, all of them lined up, holding letter ballons. Together, the words formed:WE ARE SORRY.

Behind them, the elders stood, Mama and Baba, Chachu and Chachi, Taya Jaan and Tayi Jaan.

And at the heart of it all, Dada Jaan and Deeda Jaan.

My throat closed up instantly. I turned to look at Zaigham, desperate for an explanation, but he only gave me those sheepish, apologetic eyes, as if to say he hadn't known either.

I took a step back, my chest tightening. I wanted to run. But before I could, a voice stopped me.

"Zoya beta..."

Dada Jaan.

He was walking toward me, slowly, his cane tapping against the floor, but his eyes... they weren't stern or distant like every day. They were soft. Heavy. Burdened.

When he reached me, his wrinkled hand lifted, cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed against my skin, so gentle it made my tears rise instantly.

"My child... my pride. I wronged you. I let my silence wound you more than words ever could. When you needed my protection, I doubted you. When you needed my arms, I folded them. And since that day, my heart has carried the weight of regret heavier than any burden age has given me."

Tears instantly burned my eyes, but I forced myself to stay still, to hear him.

He went on, thumb brushing my cheek like he was afraid I'd disappear,"You deserved trust, beta.

You deserved faith. And I failed you. Not because you weren't worthy, but because I let my pride blind me.

But know this, every second since, I have prayed for one chance to stand before you like this. .. and ask my bacha to forgive me."

His voice cracked. Mine never found the strength to answer.

Then, softer, breaking,"So what if I am elder? I am human. I made a mistake. Will you not forgive your Dadu, Zoya?"

And that was it. My dam broke.

I let out a sob I had held in for a week.

"Do you know what that day did to me, Dadu?

" My voice trembled, but I couldn't stop.

"I looked at you... my strongest pillar.

.. and you weren't there. I felt abandoned, like the ground beneath me had been pulled away.

I questioned myself, my worth, my place in this family.

I cried in silence, wishing just once anyone would come to me and say it was all a mistake.

.. that you still believed in me. But you didn't."

My lips trembled, my chest heaved. "You don't know how small I felt. How unloved. How... disposable."

Silence fell across the hall. I could feel every pair of eyes on me, but I only saw him. My Dadu.

He leaned forward, caressing my head, his hand still cupping my cheek.

"Not unloved, Zoya. Never unloved. If you felt small, it was because I failed to remind you of how precious you are, bachay.

But today, I promise you, meri bachi... never again.

Even if the world points fingers, I will stand by you.

Even if my own blood speaks against you, I will silence them.

Never again will I let doubt touch you."

I breathed out, shattered. "Promise?"

His eyes held mine with unshaken resolve. "Promise. On this life of mine."

That was it. I collapsed into his arms, hugging him as tightly as I could. He hugged me back with surprising strength, his chin resting on my head, and I felt his tears fall into my scarf. I sobbed against his chest like a child who had finally been found.

Deeda Jaan's voice cracked as she whispered behind me,"Zoya beta, your Dadu is not the only one who failed you. I failed too. I watched in silence when my words could have shielded you. Forgive your Deeda for choosing silence when I should have fought for you. Can you forgive me, bachaa?"

I turned, falling into her embrace, and her arms closed around me so tightly I thought she'd never let go. She pressed kiss after kiss into my head, her body shaking as though she'd been holding these tears for just as long as I had.

When I finally pulled away from Deeda Jaan's embrace, I noticed movement from the side.

It was Tayii Jaan.

Her eyes were already wet, her dupatta trembling in her hands as she pressed it to her lips for a moment before stepping toward me.

"Zoya," she began, voice fragile, "I don't even know if I deserve the right to speak to you after the way I made you feel.

That day... when I should have stood by you, I stood against you.

Not because I didn't love you, but because I was.

.. foolish enough to let fear cloud me. Fear of what people would say, fear of shame, fear of whispers.

And in protecting the family's so-called honor, I broke my own daughter's heart. "

Her words cut through me, sharp and heavy. She reached for my hand, but her fingers hesitated midway, almost afraid to touch me.

"I replay that day over and over in my mind, beta," she whispered, tears sliding freely now.

"And every time, I wish I had chosen differently.

You have always been like my own child, Zoya.

And I pushed you away when you needed me most. Forgive your tayii jaan.

Please... don't carry the burden of my weakness in your heart forever. "

Her voice cracked, and I swallowed hard.

When Tayii Jaan hesitated and began to step back, I quickly reached forward and caught her hand. Her fingers trembled in mine.

I shook my head softly, tears blurring my vision. "Please... don't say you don't deserve to speak to me. You've been part of my life since the day I opened my eyes to this world. You've been like a second mother to me, Tayii Jaan. I... I can't ever forget that."

Her eyes widened, glistening, as she looked at me.

"Yes, I was hurt," I admitted, my voice breaking. "That day I felt like my world collapsed. I know you love me. I've always known it. And if fear made you falter once, it doesn't erase the years of love you've showered me with."

Her tears fell harder. I managed a shaky smile through my own. "I could never carry anger in my heart for you."

She broke then, completely, and pulled me into her arms. I let out a trembling breath against her shoulder, holding her tightly as she whispered prayers into my hair. I looked at Zaigham, he was smiling while looking at me as he blinked assuringly.

And then, Chachu and Chachi came forward together. Their faces were pale, their eyes full of something heavier than guilt—grief.

"Zoya beta..." Chachu's voice was hoarse, breaking at the edges.

He glanced at Chachi, who clutched his arm tightly, and then back at me.

"We know no amount of words can erase the pain that was caused.

And though it was our son's actions that hurt you.

.. we are his parents. And we feel responsible.

We should have raised him better, we should have—"

"Stop," I cut in, my voice firmer than I expected.

I shook my head, a tear rolling down my cheek.

"Please, don't put this blame on yourselves.

What he did... was his choice. Not yours.

You gave him values, you gave him love, it was him who strayed from it.

I will not let you carry the weight of his mistakes.

That day, I felt betrayed by many... but I never once blamed you for his actions.

Please don't wound yourselves by thinking it was your fault. "

Chachi's hand flew to her mouth as she choked on a sob, and Chachu's shoulders slumped as if a boulder had been lifted off him.

Chachu's voice wavered. "Even so... we want you to know, Zoya, you are still our daughter. And nothing, nothing, can change that."

I nodded as he patted my head and chachi kissed my forehead.

Laiba's hand going straight to my hand, Rumman api already wiping at my face with the corner of her dupatta, Aaliya murmuring something soothing, Ayat's arms finding my shoulders, Inaya whispering frantic apologies, Zaviyaar looming protective, Ayyan Bhai and Zayyan Bhai and Rayyan bhai flanking us like live shields, and Nouran Api with that steadier, quieter love that always calmed everything.

"Bas, stop crying now," Laiba barked, half command, half plea, hauling me in so tight my laughter turned into a hiccup. Rumman api buried her face against my shoulder and muttered, "I thought I was protecting everyone. I see now how selfish that was."

Aaliya kissed my forehead, her voice soft and fierce both. "You are my girl. No one gets to hurt you. Not now, not ever." She squeezed my hand.

Ayat—eyes red, voice trembling, kept repeating, "We were wrong. We will fix this. We will be better." She sounded like she was promising herself as much as me.

Inaya fussed over my sleeves and fussed some more. "Don't you dare say you forgive us yet unless you mean it. We'll earn it back. We'll be annoying until you never doubt us again." She grinned through her tears, the kind of ridiculous, stubborn grin that always made me forgive faster.

Zaviyaar came next. "If anyone so much as looks at you funny, they will have to answer to me," he said, and the threat made me giggle despite everything.

Ayyan Bhai Rayyan bhai and Zayyan Bhai came in close, hands on my head, murmuring more practical things, "We'll handle it. We'll watch. We'll not let it happen again." Their voices were steady, the kind you fall back on.

Nouran Api threaded her fingers through mine and said softly, "You are not alone. Let us be the ones who prove it to you, every day." When she said it that way, something inside me unclenched.

They circled tighter, and then like a single group hug, they squeezed me from all sides. Hugs in my family are messy and loud.

"You're going to collapse from our love," Zaviyaar shouted. I managed between laughs and hiccups. "Stop it, you idiots."

"We won't stop," Laiba declared, voice fierce. "We're paying for this with our soul. And our snacks." Rayyan bhai shoved a small packet of sweets into my palm like a bribe.

When the squeeze broke, Laiba planted a kiss on my forehead so firm it felt like a blessing. "You better laugh tomorrow or I will bring the whole album from our childhood and make you watch it until you do," she threatened, and everyone snorted.

I wiped my face and looked at each one—and my chest swelled in a new way. "You all are insufferable," I said, voice wobbling. "But... thank you. I forgive you, all." I said.

They cheered like kids and started bickering over who had rights to be first in line to annoy me tomorrow. While the elders smile through teary eyes.

To be Continued....