Chapter 19
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Author's POV
Safiya stepped out of the bathroom after nearly an hour, the door releasing a slow haze of lavender-scented steam that mixed into the cooler air of the bedroom. Her skin still carried the lingering heat of the shower, her finger pads creased due to the long ritual she always saved for Sundays.
It was the kind of bathing session where time ceased to matter, where she scrubbed until her skin felt brand new, where every pore had been washed clean, and the weight of the week had been rinsed down her shoulders into the drain.
Her mind felt clearer after the long, relaxing shower. Her body felt way lighter, like all the tension seeped away from her head. The kind of calm that made her almost forget where she was. Almost....
A towel was wrapped loosely around her damp hair, a few stray strands already slipping free to cling to her cheek and neck. The outfit Riffat had sent for her clung softly against her skin. It was modest and clearly chosen to meet someone’s approval.
Probably the in-laws. Safiya didn’t care at least it wasn’t some tacky red chiffon or suffocating velvet monstrosity.
She was still half in that post-shower haze when her gaze drifted lazily across the room and stopped on the figure sprawled on the bed.
Zaviyar... shirtless on the bed!
He was sprawled across the very edge of the bed, his body angled towards her side but his head tilted away, as if he’d simply collapsed there. A faint sheen of light spilled through the curtains, sliding over the defined contours of his chest.
She noticed the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. His skin looked warm and sun-kissed where the light touched it. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, the fabric loose but soft enough to hint at the muscle beneath.
She tore her gaze away from him, trying not to grope him with her eyes. His face was, a little different in sleep. The sharp lines that always made him seem so grumpy, so unapproachable, were softened now. No furrow in his brows. No mocking curve of his lips.
Just a calm mask on his face as he smirked lightly. And god forbid his lashes looked good, the kind she couldn't get even after days of tryingt o grow them. He looked too calm for someone who could be so insufferable when awake.
He looked… hot!
Safiya felt the thought like a betrayal, rolling her eyes at herself immediately, but it was too late. She could admit silently, grudginly that he was an attractive man.
That didn’t mean she liked him. In fact, she hated him with her whole soul. She hated the way he spoke to her, the way he thought he could pull her strings, manhandle her. But she wasn’t blind. And men in sweatpants had that particular, unfair allure. Zaviyar was no exception.
Did she hate him? Absolutely!
Did she want to strangle him every time he opened his mouth? Without question,duh!!
Was he hot? Unfortunately, yes.
Still… maybe this could be fun.
If he thought he could intimidate her, control her, and walk around like the undisputedlu the dominant one in this marriage, she’d remind him that two could play.
She had already figured out one thing about them both. neither of them would be the first to apologize. Stubbornness was their shared language. But while the fights would be inevitable, nothing said she couldn’t amuse herself along the way.
A wicked spark lit in her eyes as she took silent steps towards the bed. She slipped off her dupatta, letting it slide to the mattress’s edge.
He was still deep in sleep or looked like he was.
His breathing was shallow, the faintest hint of a snore threading the stillness.
His hair was tousled, falling over his forehead in a way she knew he would hate if he saw it.
She pulled out her phone, thumb swiping the screen until Snapchat’s big-mouth filter appeared.
A laugh bubbled in her throat, quickly stifled. Perfect.
The mattress dipped under her weight as she climbed onto the bed, moving slow enough that the springs barely protested.
The towel on her head loosened further, a few damp strands escape forward, brushing against her collarbone. She leaned over him, phone positioned over his face. The faint scent of his skin was warm, faintly musky, barely reaching her.
Click.
Click.
A grin spread across her lips, sly and satisfied.
Kabir would pay her a fortune for these snaps.
Zaviyar, on the other hand, would find them appearing at the most inconvenient moments, each one a sharp reminder that she’d caught him unguarded.
And she would make sure to use them in the best ways possible.
She was swiping through filters when she noticed something in one of them, his eyes were open. For a split second, she thought it was part of the effect. Until a voice boomed in her ears.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
The voice came low and rough, deep from his chest, and it was gruff in a way that froze her. Her phone slipped from her fingers in shock, landing on his chest with a thump.
She tried to retreat, but the blanket tangled at her feet like it wanted to keep her there. She stumbled forward with a soft gasp, landing hard enough on him to knock the air from her lungs.
Her palms found his shoulders. Her fingers dug into his skin, palms against his broad shoulders which were rugged yet far too steady for someone who’d just woken up.
Her face buried into the warm crook of his neck, her damp hair falling free in a wet cascade across his cheek and chest. Droplets traced paths over his heated skin, their coolness stark against the warmth of him.
Zaviyar’s eyes slid shut for the briefest moment when the water touched his face. Her lavender scented body wash flooded into his nostrils, making him want to take greedy whiffs of the scent.
Safiya’s breath caught. She could feel him tense beneath her, his chest expanding slowly and deliberately as if holding himself still.
Her lips hovered dangerously close to the mole on his neck, close enough for her to feel the faint heat radiating off it.
She cursed quietly under her breath, trying to push herself up, but her elbow slipped again.
This time, his hand caught her waist. The grip was firm, fingers warm through the thin fabric of her outfit, pulling her upright before she could fall again. Too careful for the scowl he wore, too close for the way he claimed to hate her.
Their faces were close , too close then she liked . Close enough for her to notice the way the golden flecks caught in his dark eyes, the slight arch of his brows, the twitch at his mouth like he was seconds away from laughing at her.
Time paused for few seconds, her warm and soft front rested against his hardz calloused body. Safiya would lie if she said that her heart didn't best rapidly against her ribcage, almost exploding at their proximity.
“What is this, a Wattpad novel?” she muttered, dragging her gaze away, cursing her luck.
His smirk finally broke free, tilting his head slightly, his voice dropping to that low, arrogant purr she had grown to hate.
“Already falling for me, dear wife?”
_______________________________________
Safiya descended the staircase slowly, one hand adjusting the scarf draped neatly around her neck. Each step felt heavier than usual, the soft rustle of fabric against her skin reminding her of how she looked. That faint knot of unease in her stomach tightened with every second.
It wasn’t nerves exactly, but something stranger. A quiet, twisting discomfort at the thought of appearing in front of her parents dressed like a new bride.
The house light caught the faint sheen on her skin, giving her a subtle glow that wasn’t entirely from makeup. The minimalistic gold jewellery she wore was elegant, catching the light just enough to draw the eye. She looked alluring to the eye, enough to turn heads from wherever she passed.
The simple maroon joda flowed elegantly around her, making her features seem sharper, her complexion richer, her presence softer yet somehow more striking.
She spotted Riffat and Rabiya seated together on the couch.
Riffat had her head bent over a large register, pen tapping absently as she scribbled names down in neat lines.
Rabiya leaned back, sipping her tea, occasionally calling out a name she’d just remembered.
the air between them filled with the rhythm of planning and the faint scent of tea and freshly baked bread and biscuits.
“Assalamualaikum…” Safiya’s greeting slipped into the air, drawing both their gazes instantly.
Riffat’s face lit up, and in the next breath she was on her feet. “MashaAllah, you look so beautiful…” She pulled Safiya into a tight, motherly hug, holding her close as if she didn’t want to let go. When she finally did, she pressed a chaste kiss against Safiya’s forehead, her voice warm.
“And I’m not just your aunt anymore… from now on, I am your mother as well.”
Turning to Rabiya, Riffat’s expression softened even further. Rabiya was watching them with an almost fond smile, her eyes lingering on Safiya as if trying to memorise the sight.
“Inn kapdon mein kya noor charha hai tumpe…” Riffat murmured, lifting the edge of Safiya’s dupatta between her fingers with a look of appreciation.
(There’s such a glow on you in these clothes…)
“You do look very beautiful,” Rabiya chimed in, though her tone carried a hint of reservation.
“But the outfit is too plain? You’ve just gotten married, dear…
such a simple outfit doesn’t look good. Your neck also looks a bit empty.
Wear some jewellery.” Her eyes flicked to the bare space at Safiya’s throat with disapproval.
“Rabia, don’t scold her.” Riffat’s voice cut in gently but firmly. “I’m the one who sent these clothes. I know Safiya likes comfortable clothing.” She waved Rabiya’s words away with an airy motion, then winked at Safiya.
Safiya smiled faintly and eased onto the sofa, tucking the edge of her dupatta neatly over her shoulder. “By the way, what’s the discussion going on?”
“Just making arrangements for the wedding reception,” Riffat replied, still scanning the register as she spoke.
Safiya blinked at them, eyebrows knitting together. “Reception? When is it?”
“That’s exactly why we called you here,” Rabiya answered with a little shrug, as though it were obvious.
Safiya exhaled slowly, her gaze darting between the two women.
“We were thinking of having it this week, on Sunday?” Riffat suggested, her voice hopeful, eyes flicking up to gauge Safiya’s reaction.
“Ummm… sure…” Safiya replied, her agreement hesitant.
“Bhabi, maybe you should ask Zaviyar once…” Rabiya added casually, lifting her cup to her lips for another sip of tea, reclining back against the cushions.
Before Safiya could respond, a deep, resonant “Assalamualaikum!” echoed im the living room.
She stiffened at once. Her gaze found him before she could stop herself. Zaviyar descended the stairs, dressed in his white shalwar kameez and wore a beige best over it.
The moment their eyes locked, something in her chest gave an involuntary jolt. His gaze didn’t waver. It was fixed on her, unwavering, steady, and far too intense for her liking.
Her lips pressed together, but the warmth in her face betrayed her.
Memories of their earlier interaction flooded back without mercy, colouring her cheeks with an unmistakable flush at her stupid actions.
She bit her lip, wishing she could will it all away, but it was too late.
she was already caught between the weight of his stare and the sudden invasion of the bitter interaction that followed.
Flashback
“Already falling for me, dear wife?” Zaviyar’s voice carried a thread of mockery, the faintest curl of a smirk tugging at his lips.
But his eyes stayed cold, unreadable. That look wasn’t one of affection, nor even amusement.
It was calculated and deliberate another move in his game to unsettle her.
Safiya shut her eyes briefly, inhaling through her nose as frustration spiked in her chest. She pushed herself up and off him, determined to break the contact but not before her palms came in contact with his toned chest.
Her hands landed squarely against his chest, and the sudden rub of something soft sent a strange, unwelcome ripple through her. His skin was warm, almost hot, beneath her clammy fingers.
She could feel the steady best of his heart under her palm, and the defined ridges of his muscles beneath her touch.
His hair, freed from its usual slicked-back precision, was tousled from sleep. His messy strands falling slightly over his forehead. He looked different like this, like he was her lover. Less the ruthless man she knew, more something unguarded. But only for a second.
Her gaze dipped without permission, tracking a single droplet of water as it slid from his neck down the cut of his collarbone. Her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, her eyes travelled lower to where her right hand rested. The realisation hit like a slap.
She gasped audibly, snatching her gaze upward but far too late.
Why… why were his nipples hard? And her hands rested right above— IT!!!!!!!
‘Aaaasaahhhhhhhhhhh’, she screamed mentally.
Shock was written all over her face, and the flicker of heat that rose in his cheeks betrayed that he had caught exactly where she was looking. His eyes narrowed, and his voice came short, sharp.
“Stop it.”
The words cut through the thick air between them, but she wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her or himself.
With one final push, she pulled away from him, climbing out of the bed. She was halfway to the door when a sudden, firm grip clamped around her wrist. The movement froze her mid-step, her breath catching in her throat.
“For the last time…” Zaviyar’s voice was low, each word wrapped in venom, “stay away from me. You have no right, not on me… not in this room.”
His dark eyes locked on hers, narrowing further.
“So stop your acting. I know you. Your tricks. And everything you’re up to…” He spoke through gritted teeth, each syllable deliberate as he stepped towards her slow, predatory strides that closed the space between them.
Safiya’s back met the cool wall of the corner, but she didn’t shrink back. Instead, her chin tilted up and with a sudden step forward she erased what little distance there was left between them.
Her hands rose, not to push him away but to rest the damp towel from her head right onto his bare shoulder.
“You know everything, right?” Her voice dripped with mock sweetness.
“Then you must also know that I set up a secret camera in the bathroom.”
She patted his shoulder lightly as if they were exchanging pleasantries instead of veiled threats and then brushed past him, her movement quick and smooth.
“Oh! And your toothbrush?” She glanced over her shoulder as she reached the walk-in closet. “I might or might not have accidentally dipped it in the toilet water.”
Her hand reached up to pat his head in a mock gesture of affection before she disappeared inside, leaving Zaviyar standing there, processing her words with a darkening expression.
His face turned red and before he could barge into the walk in closet she had closed it on his face. Leaving him flustered and angry.
Flashback ends
She was pulled out of her drifting thoughts when the sofa beside her dipped ever so slightly.
He had taken a seat next to her, not too close and kept a polite distance from her.
Yet the space between them seemed to hum with an unspoken tension.
Even without looking at him, she could feel it.
The weight of his side long glances brushing against her like whispers she couldn’t quite hear.
The faint musk that clung to him, mingled with the heady warmth of his cologne, curled into her senses.
It was distracting, almost intoxicating. She made a mental note to later sneak a peek at the bottle. whatever it was, it smelled heavenly, the kind of scent that lingered in your mind long after the person had gone.
“ Itni der kese hogayi tumhe, Zaviyar? ”, Riffat’s voice cut through the silence, her eyes lifting from her plate to her son.
There was a subtle crease of curiosity on her forehead, almost as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes.
Her punctual son, the one who practically functions with the tick of a clock, arriving late to the table for the first time in years?
It was enough to make her wonder what had changed.
( Why are you so late, Zaviyar? )
Before Zaviyar could even respond, Kabir leaned back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “ Samjha kijiye ammi... Bhai ab shaadi shuda hain, lagta hain time. ”
( Try to understand, mom... Bhai is married now, they need time. )
His smirk was infuriatingly smug, the kind that only a younger brother could manage. The teasing earned him a glare from Zaviyar, a soft smile from Riffat, and a dramatic eye-roll from Safiya.
Riffat’s expression softened into a radiant beam.
“ Kitne saj rahe hain mere dono bachche. Nazar na lageh. ” Her voice was brimming with affection, eyes glittering with that warm, doting pride only a mother could have.
The words made both Safiya and Zaviyar glance at each other unexpectedly, as if the sudden acknowledgment caught them both off guard.
Zaviyar shook his head faintly, breaking the moment, before turning toward Rabiya. “Kya puchna tha aapko chachi?”
( What do you want to ask, aunt? )
Rabiya’s smile was polite, yet tinged with the air of someone about to poking something delicate.
“Son, we were deciding the date for the reception. We were thinking of this Sunday. We wanted to know your opinion...” She spoke with careful optimism, eyes searching his face for a flicker of approval.
Zaviyar leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other with an ease that didn’t quite match the heaviness of his expression, and gave a single, firm nod.
“ Faisle toh pehle hi ho chuke hain, mujhe nahi lagta meri rai itni ehmiyat rakhti hai. ” His tone pierced through the air.
Rabiya lowered her head while Riffat looked at Zaviyar with her eyes widened.
His words were not loud but sharp enough to leave its mark.
There was a certain finality in his voice, laced with taunts so subtle they might have gone unnoticed by someone less sensitive.
( The decisions have already been made, I don’t think my opinion really matters. )
The sudden ring of his phone became his escape. Without another word, he rose and left, his retreat as deliberate as his comment had been. Rabiya shifted in her seat glancing away as a faint embarrassment colored her face while Riffat slapped her own forehead with a sigh.
“Usse maaf karna Rabia, woh bas thoda gussa hai–” Her voice stumbled over itself, rushed and apologetic, her cheeks flushing as if Zaviyar’s words had been a reflection on her.
( Forgive him, Rabia, he’s just a little upset— )
But Rabiya’s hand reached out, clasping hers in a firm, reassuring grip.
“Nahi, main samajhti hoon bhabi. Woh theek keh raha tha, iss nikaah ke liye humne bas Safiya se razamandi li... humne toh yeh socha hi nahi ki Zaviyar ke liye yeh qubool karna kitna mushkil hoga— ki uski mangetar usse chhod kar bhaag gayi aur uske ghar walon ne apni marzi se uski shaadi kisi aur se kar di...” Her tone was calm, almost understanding, but the weight of her words lingered in the air long after they were spoken.
( No, I understand, bhabi. He is right, we only asked Safiya's will for this marriage.
.. We never considered Zaviyar's feelings, we didn't even think how hard it might have been for him to accept that his fiance escaped from the wedding and his family forced him to marry someone else just to save their reputation. .. )
Neither of them noticed the storm brewing just a few feet away. A storm with fire in her eyes and clenched teeth.
“Haalat ke saamne sab majboor the ammi... iska matlab yeh nahi ke woh aapko disrespect kar sakte hai.” Safiya’s voice sliced through their quiet conversation, low but loaded with barely contained anger. She rose abruptly from the couch, her posture rigid and unyielding.
( Everyone was helpless in front of the situation, Ammi… but that doesn’t mean he can disrespect you. )
“Isko toh abhi dikhati hoon main... bade aaye.” She muttered under her breath before storming after Zaviyar, her dupatta trailing behind like a banner of battle.
( I’ll deal with him right now... acting all high and mighty. )
“Safiyaa.... wait...” Rabiya’s call followed her, but it was in vain, the girl was already gone.
Kabir still comfortably sprawled with an apple in hand, shook his head as if the morning drama was nothing new. “Aap log bhi na subah subah emotional baaton ko le kar baith jaate hain...” He took another loud bite, clearly unbothered.
( You all really start with emotional talks first thing in the morning... )
His eyes glinted with mischief again as he leaned toward Rabiya, lowering his voice in mock seriousness.
“Chachi jaan, Allah ka shukar manaye ki shaadi se pehle bhaag gayi... shaadi ke baad bhaagti toh bhaijaan ko sadma lag jaata...” The remark earned him a gentle laugh from Rabiya, who absentmindedly began massaging his head.
( Dear Aunt, be thankful to Allah that she ran away before the wedding... if she had run away after it, Bhaijaan would've had a breakdown... )
“ Aur baat rahi bhai aur bhabi ki toh, har jodi Allah khud likhta hai. In dono ka mizaaj bas yeh dono hi handle kar sakte hain. Sanki hain dono ” Kabir added with an exaggerated nod, as though he had just uncovered the great secret of the universe.
( And as for Bhai and Bhabi, every couple is written by Allah Himself. Only these two can handle each other’s temperaments. Both of them are mad.)
Riffat’s brows shot up. “Pehle toh main tujhe handle karti hoon... bade bhai ke liye aisa kaun bolta hai...” She reached over and twisted his ear, making him yelp in pain.
( First let me handle you... who says such things about their elder brother... )
“Ouch... Ouch Ammi chhodain, Bhai ko toh aap daanti nahi hain. Banda do alfaaz sachchai bol de, bas bechare ke upar zulm shuru.” He rubbed his reddened ear from her grip and shot Khwaish a pleading look. She only giggled, tapping away at her iPad, her notes scrolling across the screen.
( Ouch… ouch Ammi, let go! You never scold Bhai! I just spoke two words of truth, and now the poor guy is being tortured. )
__________________________________
Meanwhile, Safiya was already moving with quick, determined steps, the echo of her heels against the marble chasing after Zaviyar’s voice. He was still on the phone, his tone sharp and unforgiving. Each word was a command, each sentence laced with irritation.
“ Kill That Motherfucker, if need be. i want that audit Passed By Tonight. Am I Clear? ”, he barked into his phone.
Waqas was waiting for him at the gate and immediately straightened seeing Zaviyar exit the mansion.
Whispered orders slipped through clenched teeth as he barked instructions. The air around him was tense, heavy with authority and impatience. Tthe kind that made people shudder in their place and obey without question.
He reached the porch, the sunlight spilling over him in slanted golden beams, when he abruptly ended the call with a swipe, his jaw tight. Safiya, undeterred and furious picked up her pace, slipping in front of him with a suddenness that made him stop short.
The men that bowed before him slightly remained shocked when they noticed a woman block the path of their boss. Safiya stood infront of him, unaware how much Zaviyar hated anyone blocking his path let alone call him while he was leaving for something.
He looked at her with a raised brow, his eyes squitning at her shirt frame looking up at him with a furious expression, her nose twitching with anger.
He looked back at his men and they quickly lowered their eyes not daring to look up. Zaviyar without a word lifted his hand making her look at him with a confused look. Before he slowly held the edge of her dupatta and slowly lifted it up.
She raised a brow confused at his actions, and he slowly placed the dupatta over her head, covering her head partially. And tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear.
Safiya's eyes widened when his finger tips touched the shell of her ear, just slightly.
But she felt something giddy in her stomach, as she forgot how to breathe.
It was nothing romantic but for some reason it felt like an explicit action.
The intensity between them was palpable.
Zaviyar placed his hand at the side of her head gently, and slowly leaned it.
“ Hamari biwi hain aap abse, aapke saath ab hamara bhi naam juda hua hain, hmmm? ”, he said with one single look before turning away to leave. Hsi words snapped he r out of her trance. She tried to stop him but he didn't listen and she did something without even thinking twice.
“Oh saste Saif Ali Khan, yeh baat karne ka tareeqa hai?” She grabbed his collar without hesitation, tugging him down slightly as she rose on her tiptoes, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.
( Oh, cheap Saif Ali Khan, is this the way to talk? )
For a brief second, his eyes widened. Not out of fear but surprise at her audacity.
Then, the surprise melted into something far darker.
He slid his phone into his pocket in one fluid motion, his gaze locking onto hers.
he didn't say anything and try to turn away but she remained adamant, “ Jab mein baat kar rahi hu tab meri taraf dekha karein. ”
( when I'm talking, I want your eyes on me. “
Safiya felt it, the sudden shift in the air. The warmth of the morning seemed to drain away, replaced by something cold, dangerous, and utterly lethal.
“Collar chhoro Safiya...” His voice was low, velvet over steel, carrying an unspoken warning.
( Let go of the collar, Safiya…)
“First go and apologize to Ammi...” Her words were steady, but her heart skipped a beat under the weight of his stare.
“Tum ek number ke hypocrite ho... mujhe baat karne ki tameez sikhaate ho na tum? Kha gayi tumhari ghairat, tumhare usool? Yeh usul mere liye alag aur tumhare liye alag kyu hain? ” She mocked him, her voice dipping into a perfect imitation of his own reprimanding tone.
( You're such a hypocrite... You're the one always teaching me manners? What happened to your pride and principles? Why does manners and giving respect only apply to me and not you? )
“Main kisi se maafi nahi maangne wala..” His fingers curled slowly, deliberately, around her wrist.
( I'm not going to apologize to anyone. )
“Ohh toh aapki ana ka masla hai...” Her grip on his collar tightened, knuckles whitening.
“Main toh bhool hi gayi thi ki aap gaon ke dehati, misogynistic, aur egoistic Nawab sahab hain jinke liye sirf woh khud important hain. Baaki sab bhaad mein jayein, nahi?”
( Ohh, so it's your ego... I forgot that you're the rural, misogynistic, and egoistic Nawab sahib for whom only he matters. The rest can go to hell? )
“Safiya— I said let go. Mujhe yahan koi tamasha khara nahi karna...” His tone sharpened, his grip on her wrist tightening enough to make her aware of his strength.
( Safiya— I said let go. I don’t want a scene here... )
“Ammi se pehle maafi maangiye..” she pressed, her voice sharp as glass.
( Apologize to Ammi first. )
“Collar chhoro.”
( Let go of the collar. )
“Pehle maafi!” She stepped forward, closing the gap between them until only their breathing separated them.
( Apologize first! )
“Pehle collar!” He bent down slightly, his forehead inches from hers, the words laced with challenge.
( First the collar! )
“Maafi,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“Collar—”
Before either could claim victory, a voice broke through the tension, loud and amused.
“5000 Bhabi jeetengi...”
( 5000 on Bhabi winning... )
Both heads turned sharply toward the source, their expressions snapping into neutrality.
Agastya and Waqas stood there, staring at the scene like they’d stumbled onto forbidden territory.
Safiya’s fingers reluctantly uncurled from his collar, and she stepped back, her cheeks warm but her chin held high.
Zaviyar cleared his throat, moving forward so that his broad frame shielded her face from his men’s view.
“Assalamualaikum Bhabi...” The greeting came in rough unison from the rest of the men, their gazes respectfully lowered. As a mark of tradition, they set their rifles upright, holding them on their knees. It was a gesture reserved only for the Nawab and his Begum.
“Walaikum assalam.” Safiya’s voice came from behind his shoulder as she peeked out briefly. Zaviyar’s hand lifted in a silent order, and the rifles were lowered.
Then Agastya stepped forward with deliberate boldness, brushing past Zaviyar to extend his hand toward Safiya.
Zaviyar’s glare could have burned holes through him, but Agastya only smirked and said, “Bhabi, manna padega aapko... Zaviyar Raza Khan ka collar pakadne ki himmat kisi ne nahi ki... aur jisne ki thi, woh toh khair ab apni himmat dikhane ke liye bacha nahi.”
( Bhabi, gotta hand it to you… No one ever dared to grab Zaviyar Raza Khan’s collar… and the one who did, well, let’s just say he’s not around to brag about it. )
The words lingered in Safiya’s mind like a drop of ink in clear water.
‘My husband is a criminal? Ya rab, aapne kesa Wattpad coded pati diya hain. Mene touh Wazifa bhi nhi parha tha ese pati ke liye. ’
‘Oh God, what kind of Wattpad-coded husband have You given me? I didn’t even recite a prayer for a husband like this.’
Waqas approached Zaviyar with the files immediately not wanting to waste another second of his boss's time.
“Main Agastya, aapke shohar ka dost... aur shayad aapka bhi.”
( I’m Agastya, your husband’s friend… and maybe yours too. )
She smiled faintly as she shook his hand, though Zaviyar’s presence loomed from the corner of her vision, his signature still scrawled, mistakenly on Waqas’s white shirt sleeve instead of the paper. Poor Waqas was already calculating the explanation he’d give his wife.
“Inke bhi dost hain?” Safiya asked with mock astonishment.
( He has friends? )
Agastya laughed. “Mujhe pata hai, hairani ki baat hai na... meri baat maaniye Bhabi, yeh aadmi ek number ka sadiyal hai...”, Safiya nodded in agreement, almost in rhythm with his words.
( I know, shocking right? Trust me, Bhabi, this guy is such a grump... )
“Aaj tak kabhi haste hue dekha aapne?”, She shook her head, earning his mock condolences. He was completely unaware that Zaviyar had moved behind him, cracking his knuckles in preparation.
( Have you ever seen him laugh? )
“Mera pata nahi, tu zarur hasna bhool jaayega aur ek lafz kaha toh...”
( Don’t know about me, but you’ll definitely forget how to laugh if he speaks a word... )
“Bhabi aap mujhe apna number dein, main aapko saari baatein detail mein bataunga...”, Agastya ignored him, sliding his phone toward Safiya.
( Bhabi, give me your number—I’ll tell you everything in detail... )
She typed it in without hesitation, while Zaviyar nearly bored a hole into Agastya’s skull with his glare.
While Zaviyar was practically one step away from punching a hole into his own head out of sheer frustration,
“Good thing you’re here, bhai…” he heard Khwaish’s voice, right as she stepped outside. She looked around until she spotted him, and let out a relieved sigh like she’d just been rescued from a burning building.
“Why, you needed something?” Zaviyar asked, one brow lifting in suspicion.
“Yeah, Ammi asked you to come early today… and then take Bhabi shopping,” Khwaish replied, casually pointing toward Safiya, who was busy a few feet away talking animatedly with his men unaware of him. The dupatta Zaviyar had adjusted on her head, had long fallen over her shoulder.
Khwaish looked at him expectantly while Zaviyar’s jaw ticked as if the mere word shopping offended him.
“Go with the driver, both of you,” he said instantly, trying to wriggle out of the plan like a kid dodging homework.
“Ammi has given strict orders hain…” Khwaish shrugged, her tone making it clear that strict orders were as unbreakable as ancient family traditions. She turned to leave but ended up bumping into Agastya, who had suddenly gone quiet... too quiet!
Before Zaviyar's attention could go back to Safiya Waqas appeared with the file once again and his phone range the exact moment.
Khwaish mumbled a polite greeting and he gave her a short nod in response. She would have walked away, but his steen voice which was not very much up for discussion halted her mid-step.
“Where do you plan on doing your internship?” Agastya asked, his tone heavy enough to make her gulp.
“Almora in–” she began, but was immediately sliced off mid-sentence.
“Silthar. That’s where you’ll do your internship. I’ve already informed uncle and auntie,” he stated, not even blinking, his voice final like a judge delivering a verdict.
Khwaish spun toward Safiya, silently begging for her to jump in and back her up. But Safiya had vanished from the periphery of her vision for the moment.
Her eyes darted to Zaviyar but he was half-absorbed in his phone, the other half muttering angrily while Waqas tried to calm him down. Khwaish let out a defeated sigh. She was completely on her own.
“But I did not give it in preference,” she tried to explain, her voice tentative, attempting to shift the topic.
“I’ll handle that,” Agastya cut in smoothly, ending the conversation before it could even start.
.
Her lips parted to protest, but she knew there was no point. At the end of the day, Riffat would find a way to convince her, and she’d be railroaded into Sialkot anyway.
Just then, Zaviyar, who had been walking toward them, slowed down and frowned when he saw Khwaish’s red, watery eyes and the angry crease on her forehead.
His jaw tightened, a sharp edge entering his gaze.
Without hesitation, he stepped right in front of her, effectively blocking Agastya’s view of her.
“What’s wrong?” His tone was stern, but he tried to soften it. P.S. Tried!
“I don’t want to do my internship in Silthar, please bhai,” she said, her voice trembling on the edge of tears.
Zaviyar’s eyes softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on her head. “You won’t go there, okay?” he promised, then turned his attention to Agastya.
“There’s no need for her to go to Sialkot. Stop trying to control her,” Zaviyar said in a low whisper, his words sharp but quiet enough that no one else could hear.
“I am not trying to control her, but protecting her from some stupid decisions,” Agastya countered, his voice calm but laced with steel.
“Aur tu pehle apni biwi ko sambhaal…” Agastya added with a smirk.
(First control your wife…)
“Lagta hai Bhabi ne aapko Jahannum ka ticket dilwane ki kasam kha li hai…” Kabir’s teasing voice suddenly cut in. He leaned on the pillar, while typing on his phone.
(Looks like Bhabi’s sworn to get you a one-way ticket to hell…)
Zaviyar turned around and froze. His wife was standing there holding a rifle, pointing it directly at his head like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Aal log rifles use karte hain, huh?” Safiya asked, checking the weapon with practiced ease before adjusting her grip.
( you guys use rifles, huh?)
Zaviyar caught the faintest curve of a smile on her lips, and for some inexplicable reason, it made his heartbeat spike.
The sight of her smiling while holding a gun.
Her laughing lightly felt like the whole world paused for a moment.
Then, her smile faded and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with that calm, composed elegance that drove him mad.
“The way you’re holding the rifle, no amateur could do that…” Waqas said appreciatively, clearly impressed. Safiya only glanced at him before looking away, as if his praise didn’t matter.
Zaviyar blinked out of whatever trance she’d put him in, quickly schooling his face back into his trademark glare.
“The university I studied at gave shooting training… so yeah, I know how to handle guns,” she stated plainly, her eyes locking back onto Zaviyar’s, who continued to stare at her with a deliberately indifferent look.
“Bhabi, how about a shooting competition today?” Kabir piped up, visibly excited at the idea of some action.
“Why not… I’m ever ready, better than sitting around bored,” Safiya replied giving him a thumbs-up.
“Bhabi, you just got married yesterday…” Khwaish walked up, whispering in her ear, making Safiya frown.
“Mujhe pata hai, lekin usse kya farak padta hai? Tum bhi chalo, sikha dungi tumhe…” she said with a shrug. Making Khwaish agree immediately.
(I know, but so what? You come along too, I’ll teach you…)
Both Zaviyar and Agastya instantly barked out— “No!”, making Khwaish glare at them and nod firmly at Safiya in silent agreement.
“Koi zarurat nahi hai fazool mein yeh sab karne ki…” Zaviyar’s voice was firm, commanding
(There’s no need to do all this nonsense…)
“Kyu? Aap darr gaye? Kahin aap haar na jaayein?” Safiya shot back with a scoff, one eyebrow arching in mockery.
(Why? Are you scared? Afraid you might lose?)
“I never lose…” Zaviyar replied, stepping toward her, his tone deepening.
“Main kaise maanu?” she challenged, arms folding across her chest. His jaw tightened, and without another word, he snatched the rifle from her hands.
(How do I believe that?)
“Theek hai, chalo phir…” he said, wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulling her along.
(Fine then, let’s go…)
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the onlookers as Zaviyar dragged her toward what looked like the back of the haveli. Safiya barely had time to catch her breath, her eyes wide in surprise.
Looks like they were in for a lot of fun?
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Sorry once again for the late updates. I've finally found the way for regular updates. ( I've written chapters in advance. ) But their will be double or single updates 3
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Please vote ?? ???? next update pakka Target complete karne peh dedungi ( iss baar late nhi karungi )
Next update when this chapter gets 90 votes and 100 comments 3