๐๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ญ๐๐ซ ๐ ๐จ๐ซ๐ญ๐ฒ-๐ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ
The afternoon sun slanted lazily across my room, casting warm stripes across the rug where we were sprawled out, me, Aaliya, Laiba, Rumman Api, Nouran Api, and Yusra.
My room had turned into our little lounge, filled with chatter and laughter, cushions dragged to the floor, dupattas tossed carelessly aside.
Zaigham had left for office earlier, and though I had begged him,to let me come along, he had refused in that quiet, immovable way of his.
"Zoya, no. Not until you're feeling stronger."
He never raised his voice, but there was a firmness that silenced me.
And maybe... maybe he was right. My body hadn't been cooperating with me these past few days. My energy dipped without warning, nausea crept up like an unwelcome guest. So here I was, wrapped in a soft shawl, listening to the girls argue about some silly TV drama.
We were midway through dissecting some ridiculous drama plot when Sofia knocked and entered with a tray. She set it on the side table, steaming cups of tea, a plate of frosted cupcakes for the girls, and for me, my all-time weakness: blueberry muffins.
"Finally!" Laiba exclaimed, flopping onto her stomach. "I was about to faint from hunger."
"Cupcakes for us, muffins for Zoya," Rumman Api teased, handing me the plate with a grin.
"Because everyone knows she can't survive without them."
I smiled, reaching automatically for a muffin, the warm scent of baked blueberries curling around me. But just as the cake touched my lips, something twisted in my stomach. I froze. The smellโYa Allah, why did it suddenly feel so... wrong?
I set it back down immediately, scrunching my nose.
Nouran Api raised an eyebrow. "What happened? Why aren't you eating?"
I shook my head, pulling a face. "I... don't want it. The smell isn't sitting right with me."
The room went dead silent.
Then, as if on cue, every pair of eyes widened at once.
Laiba slapped her hand to her forehead theatrically. "What? Excuse me?! Zoya refusing blueberry muffins? This is unnatural! Are you sick or something, girl?"
I frowned. "I don't know... it just smells weird. Makes me feel queasy."
"You're exaggerating, right?" Rumman Api leaned forward, suspicious.
"No, Api, I'm serious," I said, trying to nibble the muffin again, just to prove my point. But the moment it neared my mouth, my stomach lurched violently. I dropped it back on the plate, clamped a hand over my lips, and bolted toward the washroom.
I barely made it to the sink before everything I'd eaten earlier forced its way out. Once, twice, three times, my whole body convulsing, weak and drained.
Rumman Api followed me immediately, her hand rubbing circles on my back. "Breathe, sweetheart... just breathe, it'll pass."
By the time I came out, my legs felt like cotton. My face was clammy, my throat raw. The others hovered around me, their voices overlapping.
"Zoya, are you okay?"
"Should I call Mama?"
"Doctor! We need a doctor right now."
I raised my palm weakly. "I'm fine... justโjust tired."
Laiba crouched in front of me, her eyes full of worry. "Tired? Zoya, that looked scary. Tell us honestly, how long has this been happening?"
I sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Some days now... I don't know. Whatever I eat, I just end up vomiting later."
The girls froze, staring at me like I had just dropped a bomb in the room.
"What?" I asked nervously, scanning their faces.
Laiba gasped so loudly the entire house must have heard. Then she squealed, bouncing on her knees. "Oh my Allah! I'm going to be a Khala! I knew it!"
My jaw dropped. My heart skipped so hard it nearly hurt. "Waitโwhat?"
I stared at her, stunned. "Laiba, what are you saying?!"
She was already spinning in a circle, laughing like a maniac. "Khala, Khala, Khalaaaa!"
Rumman Api grabbed her arm, half scolding, half laughing herself. "Stop shouting, you will scare her more!"
But my pulse was already thundering. My hands felt clammy as realization struck me like a lightning bolt.
Wait... vomiting for days, aversion to smells, fatigue... How did I not think of this before?
My eyes widened.
Am I... pregnant?
I gulped hard, looking at them in disbelief. "IโI'm not sure..."
Aaliya rolled her eyes so dramatically I almost smacked her. "Then be sure, girl! You can't just sit there wondering."
I blinked. "Be sure? Howโ"
"Dumbo." Nouran Api smacked my arm lightly, grinning despite the tension. "Go and test, obviously!"
"Test..." I repeated faintly, my heartbeat racing so fast I felt dizzy again.
Yusra, who had been quietly watching until now, smiled softly. "Don't panic, Zo. If it's true, it's beautiful. And if not, we will still figure out why you're unwell."
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, whispering to myself, Am I really...?
My hands were clammy as I leaned against the sink, the cold marble biting into my palms. The small white stick lay on the counter, its silence louder than anything I'd ever heard.
One line. Two lines. The thought burned itself into my mind. What if...?
My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. I squeezed my eyes shut, whispering prayers under my breath. "Please, Allah... please guide me. Please give me strength." My chest rose and fell unevenly, breaths shaky, palms damp.
Behind the closed bathroom door, I could hear faint giggles, hushed voices, muffled squeals, the girls waiting in my room, their anticipation practically vibrating through the walls.
The seconds stretched cruelly long. I rubbed my trembling hands together, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. My pulse was a wild drumbeat, every thump in sync with the tiny plastic test staring back at me.
Finally, with a shaky exhale, I forced my eyes open.
"Okay, Zoya... look." My voice came out as a whisper, weak and shaky.
My fingers moved hesitantly, reaching for the test as though it might burn me. And then I saw it.
Two pink lines. Clear. Undeniable.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat, and my hand flew to my mouth. Tears blurred my vision instantly, spilling over before I could stop them. My knees wobbled, and for a moment I thought I might actually collapse right there.
"Oh my Allah... it's positive." My voice cracked in disbelief, trembling as though saying it aloud would make it more real.
The tears came faster, not of fear alone but of overwhelming shock, joy, and awe tangled together. My body shook as I clutched the stick to my chest, whispering again, "I'm... I'm pregnant."
With slow, heavy steps, I pushed the door open.
The girls jumped up immediately, their faces eager, eyes locked on me. I couldn't even speak, my tears said it all. I nodded once, my throat too tight for words.
They froze for half a heartbeat, and thenโ
"SubhanAllah!" Laiba shrieked, jumping up and down. "I knew it! I told you all! I'm going to be Khala Laiba!"
Aaliya smacked her arm, but even she had tears glittering in her eyes. "Oh my Allah, Zoya..." She pulled me into her arms tightly, her voice shaking. "You're going to be a mother."
Nouran Api pressed a hand to her lips, her face glowing. "I can't believe it... this is such a blessing."
Rumman Api wrapped both arms around me from the side, while Yusra clasped my hand warmly.
Soon, all of them piled in, arms circling me, laughter and tears mixing in a chaos of joy. The sound of their squeals filled the room, their voices overlappingโ
"She's going to be a mama!"
"I'm going to be Khala!"
"No, I'll be the favorite!"
"Move over, I'll spoil the baby the most!"
I couldn't help but laugh through my tears, buried in their warmth. For the first time in weeks, my heart felt light, overflowing with something precious and pure.
When they finally pulled back, breathless and glowing, I wiped at my cheeks. "Wait... one condition." My voice trembled, but this time with determination.
They all froze, leaning in dramatically as though I was about to announce a national secret.
"No one tells Zaigham," I said firmly, raising a finger. "Not a word. Not a hint. Not until I tell him myself."
They looked at me grinning and then shouted. "Okay!"
And with them nodding, arms still looped around me, I felt the weight of the secret I now carried, one that was both terrifying and beautiful.
Our baby.
The clock was inching closer to five.
Zoya sat on the edge of the bed, restless fingers tangling in her dupatta, her heart thudding loud enough she was sure the walls could hear it.
Her stomach twisted in both fear and joy.
She had already cried in relief earlier, but now all that remained was a storm of nerves, because Zaigham would be home anytime now.
The soft click of the door opening made her spine straighten.
Her eyes flew to the entrance of their room, and there he was as always.
Calm, collected, his aura filling the space before his voice even did.
He loosened his tie as he walked in, and the moment his eyes landed on her, they softened ever so slightly.
"Assalam u alaikum," he greeted, his voice low, warm in its own restrained way.
"Wa-alaikum assalam," she replied quickly, almost breathlessly, trying to smile through her jittery nerves.
He stepped closer, his gaze scanning her face with that sharp perception of his. "How are you feeling?"
Her lips parted, her throat dry.
How am I feeling? Oh, you know, just carrying a secret that's about to change our lives forever.
But of course, she didn't say that. Instead, she muttered, "I'm fine... just a little tired."
He hummed, clearly not convinced but unwilling to press further. He leaned down just enough to brush a quick kiss to her forehead, a rare gesture that made her heart flutterโand then walked toward the washroom to freshen up. Zoya exhaled shakily the moment he turned away.
By dinner, her nerves had doubled.
The entire family sat around the long dining table, chatter filling the air, clinking of cutlery echoing. Plates brimmed with biryani, kebabs, karahi, naan... all things she normally loved. But today, the very smell made her stomach twist.
She stared at her plate like it was an enemy. Picking at the food, moving it around, she tried to act natural. She didn't take more than two bites before setting her spoon down.
Beside from her, Zaigham's voice cut through. "Zoya... eat properly."
Every pair of eyes briefly shifted toward her, and she smiled nervously, forcing herself to take another bite. "I'm eating," she lied.
He narrowed his eyes, noticing how she hadn't actually eaten much at all. "Two bites don't count as food."
"I'm feeling full," she answered innocently, pretending that explained everything.
In reality, she was starving, but her nausea refused to cooperate. She reached for her glass of water, pretending she was about to excuse herself when a hand suddenly clamped around her wrist.
It was Nouran.
With an unamused glare, she tugged Zoya back down onto the chair with a soft thud.
"Sit quietly and eat properly," she hissed under her breath, "or I'll tell everyone why you're doing this."
Zoya's eyes widened in sheer panic. She turned to plead silently, her doe eyes practically begging her sister-in-law to have mercy.
But Nouran's stern glare left no room for negotiation.
Nouran leaned in closer, her voice softer but edged with steel. "Skipping meals is the worst thing you could do right now. You know it isn't just about you anymore."
Zoya's throat tightened. She swallowed hard, the weight of her secret pressing heavier than the food in front of her.
From across the table, Deeda noticed their hush-hush conversation. Her sharp eyes narrowed.
"What are you two whispering about?"
Zoya almost choked on her water. "Uhโnothing, Deeda... just talking about food."
"Oh really?" Deeda arched a brow.
"Yes," Zoya squeaked, quickly shoving a piece of roti into her mouth as evidence.
The table erupted in laughter at her flustered expression.
Nouran just smirked smugly, satisfied she had won the silent battle.
Meanwhile, Zaigham sat quietly at the head of the table, his fork still, his eyes very much on his wife. He noticed everything, but he said nothing.
And Zoya, oblivious to how closely he was observing, tried her best to act normal, stuffing bites down just to keep Nouran from blowing her cover.
Ya Allah, why won't this dinner just end...
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of Zaigham's laptop keys.
He sat at his desk, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, focused and composed as always.
Across the room, Zoya lay sprawled on the bed, her phone glowing in her hands, though she hadn't read a single word on the screen in the last fifteen minutes.
Her heart was pounding so loudly she could almost hear it echo in the silence. She chewed on her bottom lip, glanced at him, then back at her phone.
Ya Allah, how do I even start? Why am I sighing so much?
Another sigh escaped her chest, long and shaky, as she sat up straight.
She watched him, his sharp profile glowing under the desk lamp. He was so calm, so lost in work, while her nerves were staging a full war inside her.
Finally, she slipped off the bed, her bare feet padding softly against the floor, and took a deep breath as if she was about to walk into a battle.
Zaigham must have sensed her presence, because the moment she neared, he leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes lifting to her. His brows furrowed slightly, removing his glasses he spoke. his voice calm but curious.
"What happened, Zoya? Do you need something?"
She froze, biting her lips.
She pressed her hand to her forehead and muttered under her breath, "Ya Allah, help me."
Before he could question further, she sat onto his lap sideways, her arms looped loosely around his shoulders. His brows rose in worry, but almost instantly, his arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer as his face buried into her hair.
His voice was muffled against her strands, tender, laced with concern.
"Baby, tell me... what's wrong? I've been watching you since I came back from the office. You're not yourself."
Her chest tightened. She pulled back slowly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm, gentle, completely focused on her. The sheer love in them made her throat close up.
She gulped, nerves tangling her words.
"Baby... tell me, you're scaring me," he murmured again, his thumb brushing her waist soothingly. "What's wrong, love?"
Her lips trembled into a nervous chuckle. She grabbed his hand and carefully placed it against her stomach.
Her wide eyes locked on his face, waiting, praying he would catch the hint.
He blinked. Looked at his hand. Looked back at her. Blinked again. His brows furrowed.
"...What? Are you... hungry?"
Zoya's jaw dropped. "What?! No!" She burst into a nervous laugh, half exasperated, half embarrassed. "God, Zaigham!"
He tilted his head, still clueless, still gorgeous. "Then what is it?"
Her laughter broke into another sigh, but this time she pushed through, blurting the words before she could lose her courage.
"I'm pregnant."
Zaigham froze. His body stiffened beneath her. He blinked once. Then again. His lips parted.
"...Huh?"
Zoya groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Did you not hear me? I said I'm pregnant." She lowered her hands, locking her eyes with his and repeating firmly, "I'm pregnant, Zaigham. We are going to be parents."
This time the words sank in.
The transformation on his face was immediate. His confusion melted into shock, and then into something so raw, so unguarded, it almost knocked the breath out of her. Joy, pure and overwhelming, burst across his features, softening the sharp lines of his face.
"Waitโwhat? Are you serious? Did I hear that right?" His voice cracked slightly, his usual composure nowhere to be found. "Baby... are you telling me... you're pregnant?"
Zoya couldn't help it, her laughter spilled out, tears stinging her eyes at his sheer disbelief. She nodded rapidly, multiple times, her smile breaking wider with each nod.
"Yes. Yes, I am."
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if afraid to blink and wake from a dream. Then suddenly, a grin unlike anything she'd ever seen lit up his face. He stood up in one swift motion, his arms still firmly around her, and lifted her effortlessly off the chair.
"Zaigham!" she squealed, startled, clutching his shoulders.
But he didn't stop. He spun them around the room, laughing, a sound so rare and unrestrained it made her heart flutter.
"We're going to be parents!" he shouted, his deep voice vibrating with happiness.
"Stop spinning, I'll fall!" she gasped, laughing through her own tears.
"You're not going anywhere," he declared, holding her tighter. "Do you even realize what you just told me? I'm going to be a father. You're... you're carrying our baby." His words stumbled in excitement, his usual measured tone completely shattered by joy.
Zoya couldn't stop giggling at his expression, his rare, boyish excitement. "You look ridiculous right now," she teased through happy tears.
"Ridiculous? No, I look like the happiest man alive!" He finally stopped spinning, but he didn't put her down. Instead, he pressed his forehead to hers, his breath unsteady with exhilaration.
"Zoya... thank you. This is... this is the best gift you could ever give me."
Her eyes softened, her laughter melting into a teary smile. "You're going to be an amazing father, you know that?"
His throat bobbed. "And you... you're going to be the most beautiful mother."
The words hit her heart like a tender caress. She tucked her face into his neck, her arms winding around him as he held her close, both of them lost in the whirlwind of joy.
"When did you find out?" he asked quickly, his voice breathless. "Have you been feeling sick? You've been eating less, haven't you? Why didn't you tell me before? Are you okay now? Do you feel dizzy? Do you need water? Should we call a doctor right now?"
The questions came tumbling out in a rush, his normally calm, measured tone completely gone.
He was staring at her as if trying to read her every breath.
Zoya's lips parted in a soft laugh, her heart swelling at this more rare, unguarded version of him.
"Zaigham," she said gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead, "sit down before you collapse from your own questions."
He blinked at her, caught, and then did as told, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, though he kept her firmly in his lap, straddling him as if he had no intention of letting her go. His hands stayed on her waist, holding her like she might disappear if he loosened his grip even a little.
"Now," she said with a smile, cupping his jaw, "I will answer all your questions... one by one."
His eyes softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features as she started.
"I found out today," she admitted, her voice tender. "The girls were with me... they suspected it before I did." Her cheeks flushed at the memory, but her smile widened. "I wasn't sure until I tested. And when it was positive, I wanted to tell you myself first."
His arms tightened around her waist at that, his gaze glistening with something unspoken.
"As for how I'm feeling..." she continued, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones, "a little tired, yes. And food hasn't been my best friend lately. But I'm fine, Zaigham. Really fine."
He searched her face for the truth in her words, as though he could measure her strength by the calm in her eyes.
"You're sure?" His voice was low, but urgent.
Zoya chuckled, leaning in to kiss his forehead softly. "Yes. I'm sure. Nothing is wrong. You don't have to worry so much."
"I can't help it," he murmured against her collarbone, his voice muffled, almost boyish in its honesty. "You're carrying my child, Zoya. Our child. How do you expect me to not worry?"
She tilted his chin up, making him look at her again. His eyes were tender, yet burning with an intensity that left her breathless.
"Then promise me," she whispered, "that you'll worry with me, not for me. We'll do this together, Zaigham."
He exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against hers, his hands spreading over the curve of her waist as if anchoring himself.
A smile, rare and utterly unguarded, broke over his lips.
"Together," he agreed softly, almost reverently as he pecked her forehead.
It's strange how quickly life can change. Just a month and half ago, I was pacing the bathroom with clammy hands and teary eyes, praying that those little lines wouldn't play a cruel joke on me.
And nowโnow everyone knows.
The family's reaction? Let's just say... they're still celebrating like it's Eid every day. Deeda showers me with duas at least twenty times before breakfast.
Dada Jaan insists on calling me "the future mother of our legacy" and Laiba has already started a baby-name list that looks like an entire syllabus. Everyone is very happy.
But the funniest part is Zaigham Khan. My husband. The man who was supposed to be unshakable, stoic, unmovable.
Well, apparently all it took was a baby-shaped news to turn him into a full-time 24/7 bodyguard-slash-nurse-slash-alarm clock.
I smile to myself, sitting behind my desk in the corner of his cabin. Yes, his cabin. And yes, I'm still here. Convincing him to let me complete my internship felt like climbing Mount Everest barefoot, but somehow I managed. He tried every excuse in the bookโ
"Too much stress."
"Long hours."
"Not safe."
I almost gave up, but finally he caved. Probably because he couldn't stand my puppy-eyed sulks anymore.
It's my second day back at work now, and honestly, It feels good. The first few weeks were awfulโnausea, dizziness, throwing up every time someone peeled an orange or pull something near me, but lately, I've been feeling better. And Zaigham... well, he never left my side through any of it.
I glance up from the laptop, trying to focus on the spreadsheet I was compiling.
The problem is my dear husband is currently hovering over me with a plate of sliced apples like I'm a five-year-old.
"Zoya," he says, voice dipped in authority but eyes soft. "Eat this."
I blink up at him, raising an eyebrow. "You do realize I'm working, right?"
"You can type with one hand and eat with the other," he replies without missing a beat. He places the plate on my desk as if that's final. "Don't argue."
I roll my eyes dramatically. "You're going to spoil me so much that our child will come out with the same attitude. Do this. Don't argue. Sit here. Eat this."
For the first time today, he actually smirks. "Good. Then I won't have to repeat myself."
I gape at him. "Wow. Confidence level Zaigham Khan."
He only leans down, kisses my forehead, and straightens again, brushing invisible dust off his cuff. "Finish it, Zoya. I'll check in ten minutes."
Before I can retort, the door opens and his secretary peeks in. A tall woman with sharp glasses and an even sharper schedule. Her name isโwhat was it again? Ah, yesโClaudia.
She has that polished Canadian accent that makes even the word "meeting" sound like it belongs in Vogue magazine.
"Mr. Khan, your next meeting is in fifteen minutes," Claudia says crisply. "The delegation is waiting."
Zaigham gives her a brief nod, but his eyes flick immediately back to me. "Are you alright? Do you need anything before I go?"
I wave him off with a smile. "I'm fine. Really. Go before they think the great Khan Enterprises CEO has forgotten his own company."
His jaw tenses like he's not convinced. "Zoya..."
"I promise," I interrupt, holding up a slice of apple like proof of my survival skills. "See? Eating. Breathing. Alive. Go."
Claudia looks like she's about to laugh, but wisely excuses herself with a polite nod.
Zaigham lingers one more second, of course he does, then finally sighs and turns toward the door. "I'll be back soon. Don't move too much. Call me if you feel dizzy. Or if you need water. Or ifโ"
I groan, throwing my head back dramatically. "Go, Zaigham!"
He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and shoots me that look.
The one that says I will let this go only because I love you so much. Then, finally, he's gone.
I lean back in my chair, exhaling a laugh. The cabin feels oddly empty without his hovering presence, but at the same time, there's this warmth in my chest. Because honestly, I wouldn't trade his overprotectiveness for anything in the world.
I love it.
And as for Mahveen...we couldn't find her still. She's just... vanished. Like she disappeared into thin air. But you know what? I'm not complaining. I don't want to waste my smiles on her memory.
Not now.
I glance at the apple slice in my hand and shake my head, grinning to myself. "Fine, Zaigham. You win."
_____
The office had gone quiet again, just the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft clicking of my keyboard. For a while, I actually managed to lose myself in workโuntil the door clicked open.
I didn't even have to look up. That familiar aura just filled the room.
He strode in, jacket now hanging off his arm, tie slightly loosened. His glasses sat low on his nose in that way that made him look like a hot professor who could give you a heart attack with one raised brow.
And of course, his eyes went straight to the plate of apples on my desk.
I quickly slid it half-behind the laptop, but not fast enough. His gaze narrowed.
"Zoya," he said slowly, in that dangerously calm tone, "where is the rest of it?"
I pasted on my most innocent smile. "In my stomach?"
He walked closer, towering over me now, his shadow spilling across the desk. He picked up the plate, examined the slices like they were evidence in a courtroom, then looked back at me with a face that screamed you're lying and you know it.
I cracked. "Fine! I ate... some of it. Okay, half."
He arched a brow. "Half?"
I winced. "Quarter?"
For a moment he just stared at me, utterly unamused. Then, to my shock he walked over and sat in front of me on the edge of my desk, picked up a slice, and held it to my lips.
"Eat," he ordered simply.
I gawked. "You're feeding me at the office? What if someone walks in?"
"Good," he said, his voice as flat as his expression. "Because I don't give two flying fuโ"
"Zaigham!" I gasped and cut him off before he could curse.
My cheeks burned, but my laughter bubbled out anyway. "You're impossible."
"Bite," he said, ignoring me entirely.
So I did. And the man actually looked satisfied, like he'd just closed a million-dollar deal. After feeding me the remaining apple he carefully placed the empty plate back down and smoothed my scarf with a hand that was all command and all tenderness at once.
"How do you feel now?" he asked. "Any nausea? Headache? Dizzy spells?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, Doctor Khan. I'm fine."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Good. Because if you so much as yawn too much, I'm canceling the rest of the day."
I blinked at him, wide-eyed. "Cancel meetings? You? The great Zaigham Khan?"
His lips twitchedโthe faintest ghost of a smile. "Try me."
And just like that, my heart melted into a puddle on the office floor.
I sighed, reaching out to straighten his tie. "You're so over-conscious about everything, I can't even imagine what you'll be like once our baby is born."
His gaze softened instantly, dangerously.
"That day, Zoya... I'll be the happiest man alive."
To be Continued....