Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 32

This chapter isn't edited so read at your own risk.

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“ Why don’t you understand? It’s a hilly area, and it’s not easy to drive here, ” I said, trying to sound calm while convincing her. But she kept sulking like I had just snatched a candy from her hand.

We were on our way home, driving through the narrow, twisting roads that coiled around the mountains like silver threads. The fog had begun to descend slowly. The air outside was cool and fresh with the scent of pine. Safiya, however, was too busy sulking to notice the scenery.

She said she wanted to drive. On this road of all roads. And when I refused, for very obvious reasons she had gone into her dramatic silent treatment mode, sulking like a cat.

“ You men are all the same. You think women can’t drive, ” she said suddenly, breaking her silence, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, she looked like an offended panda, all puffed up and adorable.

“ I’m not saying you can’t drive, Safiya.

I’m saying it’s not safe to do so here, ” I replied, keeping my tone patient.

“ Once you can drive around the hills in Azamgarh, believe me, I’ll give you the car as much as you want.

You can drive me crazy, if that helps. ”

She turned her face away dramatically, her nose in the air.

“ And if I give you the car, you might just kick me out and drive away alone, ” I muttered.

Her head snapped towards me, eyes wide in disbelief. “ Tumhe lagta hai mein tumhe beech raaste par yuu chhodke chali jaungi? ”

( You think I'll leave you out here to rot. )

For a moment, I thought she was genuinely hurt but then that expression melted into a smirk.

“ Bilkul sahi lagta hai tumhe, ” she said sweetly, voice dripping with mischief. That was my cue to stop talking because one thing I had learned by now was that during her periods, Safiya could be lethal if she wanted to.

( Your intuition is absolutely correct. )

She rummaged through her bag then, pulling out the tiffin Adhira had packed for us before we left. Since we were taking a longer, alternate route to Azamgarh one that led past the land I was planning to buy. Adhira had made sure we had food for the road.

Safiya opened the lid and the warm aroma of chapatti and paneer curry filled the car. My stomach instantly growled in protest. I hadn’t eaten breakfast and the smell only made it worse.

I threw her a sideways glance. “ I’m feeling hungry too, you know. ”

She didn’t even look up. “ Then stop the car on the side and eat, na. ”

“ No—! ” I almost shouted and she frowned, her brows drawing together in suspicion.

“ I mean… we’re on the highway and it’s getting late. We need to reach home before it’s dark, ” I said quickly.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “ So, how exactly do you plan on eating while driving, Mr. Overly-Cautious? ”

I bit back a smile. “ You could feed me. Only if you want to. ”

I expected a glare or a sarcastic comment, but instead, she tore off a piece of chapatti, made a neat little morsel, dipped it into the curry and held it out to me.

Her fingers brushed my lower lip as she fed me and for a brief second, I forgot how to breathe. The taste of the curry was rich and spicy but what caught my attention was that she was eating all the paneer pieces herself and feeding me only the veggies.

“ Safiya, mujhe bhi thoda sa paneer khila do, ” I said, pretending to pout.

(Safiya, feed me some panner too. )

She looked at me with mock innocence. “ Aapko kya karna hai paneer kha ke? Veggies khao aur chust-tandurust bano, ” she said with a shrug, patting my shoulder in encouragement.

( Panneer is overrated, you should eat veggies and get more healthy. )

Still, the next morsel she fed me had a small piece of paneer tucked in and when I smiled, she turned her face away pretending not to notice.

“ Bas thoda sa hi dungi, samjhe? ” she said softly to herself. But kept giving me panner in between. She is cute!

( I'll only give a little. )

That’s when I noticed a little bit of curry on her thumb. Without thinking, I leaned forward and licked it off.

She gasped, eyes wide. “ Eeeek! Main yaha khana khila rahi hoon aur aap mujhe hi khaane ki planning mein ho kya? ” she exclaimed, scandalized.

( eeek! I'm here feeding you and you are planning to eat me. )

I chuckled. “ Aap ijazat dein toh zaroor. ”

( if you agree then sure. )

Her face went from shocked to mortified in two seconds.

She clearly hadn’t caught the double meaning at first but when it hit her, her eyes widened even more.

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and she muttered, “ Chee… na haya, na sharam. Pehle theek the, sadu the thode se, par besharam toh nahi the. ”

( Cheee... No decency, no shame. You were better before, a little grumpy and cold, but at least you weren't shameless. )

I laughed under my breath, unable to stop myself.

“ Kya fayda, ghar pahunchte hi waise hi ho , moody aur rude, ” she grumbled, popping a rice cracker into her mouth.

( But what's the use. You will become grumpy and cold like before when we reach home. )

Her face was still pink, her nose red from the cold, and her cheeks puffed as she chewed. She looked too cute for her own good.

“ Thoda aur khana milega? ” I asked but failed to hide my teasing tone.

( Can I get some more food? )

“ Nahi, yeh sab main khaungi, ” she said with her mouth full, clutching the tiffin protectively.

( nope, I'll eat the rest . )

I watched her, amused. “ Ek din mujhe hi na khaa jao, ” I muttered under my breath.

( one day you will end up eating me. )

She froze mid-bite and looked at me suspiciously, eyes narrowing. “ Kya kaha tumne? Zara firse dohrao zara. ”

( What did you just say? Repeat yourself. )

Her glare would have terrified a lesser man, but all I saw was a steamed momo trying to look fierce rather she looked soft, flushed, and round-cheeked.

“ Humari itni himmat ki aapko kuch kahen? ” I said innocently, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.

( Like I would even dare to say anything to you? )

She smirked, satisfied. “ Hmm, that’s what I thought. ”, I smiled to myself, eyes still on the winding road ahead but my mind was on her the girl beside me, pouting, eating, complaining and still somehow making the world feel a little lighter.

If someone asked me when exactly Safiya became my calm in chaos. I’d probably say it was on a road like this, with her sulking beside me, smelling like lavender and home.

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We had been driving for over two hours now.

The winding hilly roads were finally behind us but the weather had suddenly taken a strange turn.

What had started as a pleasantly chilly morning had now turned wild.

Strong winds howled through the trees, bending their branches as dark clouds rolled across the sky.

I stole a glance at the passenger seat and couldn’t help but smile.

Safiya was fast asleep, her head resting against the window, my coat wrapped around her like a blanket.

A few strands of her hair brushed against her cheeks and her lips were slightly parted.

She looked so peaceful, so childlike. After stuffing herself at the dhaba earlier and complaining she’d “never eat again,” she’d drifted off within minutes.

At that moment, I felt a strange warmth in my chest. She looked too cute to handle.

I chuckled softly and focused back on the road.

But soon, the first raindrops began to fall, slow at first, then suddenly heavy and relentless.

The sound of rain hitting the windshield was soon joined by loud thunder cracking through the sky.

Visibility dropped somewhat. The wipers squeaked frantically against the glass, barely keeping up with the downpour.

Safiya stirred in her seat, mumbling something before a flash of lightning startled her awake. “Yeh kya ho raha hai?” she whispered sleepily, rubbing her eyes. But the next thunderclap made her jump.

(What’s happening?)

“Allah! Kitni zor ki bijli hai!”, she exclaimed, clutching my arm.

(Oh God! That was so loud!)

I was about to say something when I noticed the line of cars ahead, all stopped. Red taillights glowed faintly through the rain. I slowed down and pulled over behind a truck.

“What now…” I muttered under my breath. Just then, a police officer appeared from the shadows, waving a glowing orange stick. His raincoat was soaked, and his boots splashed through the muddy road as he approached our car.

He knocked on the window, and I rolled it down halfway. Cold rain instantly hit my hand.

“There has been a landslide ahead,” he said over the sound of the storm. “Some vehicles got hit and people are injured. The road won’t open anytime soon.”

I nodded, feeling a sinking weight in my chest. “Is there any other route to Azamgarh?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

The man shook his head. “You’ll have to wait till morning. For now, you can find shelter. There are hotels and inns about half a kilometer ahead.” He pointed toward a cluster of dim lights flickering in the distance.

“Shukriya,” (Thank you) I said, and rolled the window back up.

Safiya frowned, glancing outside. “Ab kya karein?” (Now what do we do?) she asked, tapping her phone, only to realize there was no signal. She held it up in frustration, “Dekho! Signal hi nahi aa raha!”

(See? There’s no signal at all!)

I sighed. “Let’s just get a room for the night. We’ll leave early tomorrow once the road clears.”

She nodded, throwing her phone onto the seat with a little huff. “Fine. Bas koi ajeeb si jagah na ho.” (Fine. Just hope it’s not some weird place.)

I grinned a little despite the situation. “Tumhare saath hoon, toh kuch ajeeb nahi hoga.” (With you by my side, nothing will feel weird.)

She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly, pulling the coat closer around her. As I started the engine again, the headlights cut through the sheets of rain, leading us toward the faint lights ahead and into whatever the storm had in store for us that night.

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We drove towards the inn that looked surprisingly cute and cozy, like something out of an old countryside movie, yellow lights glowing through misty windows, the signboard swinging in the wind.

The small parking area outside was half-filled, and we figured it was better to find a room now before the rest of the stranded travelers showed up.

A few other hotels stood nearby, their neon signs flickering through the downpour, but this one felt homely.

Zaviyar parked the car and both of us unbuckled our seatbelts. That’s when I realized the parking lot wasn’t covered. The rain was still pouring mercilessly, drumming on the car roof. Puddles shimmered under the faint streetlight.

Zaviyar was about to step out when I instinctively reached out.

“Wait.”

He paused, looking down at my hand resting on his bicep. My fingers looked tiny against his arm, and for a second, the air between us went quiet except for the rain.

“It’s still raining outside. We don’t have umbrellas,” I said softly. He nodded without a word, then reached for the coat that had been wrapped around me.

Holding it above his head, he got out and ran to my side. I was about to step down when he suddenly stopped me, tapped on the window for me to open it.

“ Aap mat utriye, yahan paani jama ho gaya hai. Aapke pair mein chot bhi lagi hai.”

(Wait, don’t get down. The water’s all collected here and your foot is still hurt.)

I looked , he was right. The rainwater had pooled so deep it reached his ankles.

“Phir main jaungi kaise?” (Then how will I go?) I asked, confused.

“I’ll carry you,” he said simply, his voice calm but firm. “You just hold onto me tight. Aur agar kuch lena ho toh aap pakad lena.”

(And if you need anything, just grab it.)

I nodded without argument. He climbed into the back seat, opened my bag, and took out a pair of spare clothes I’d stuffed in earlier. Carrying the whole suitcase in this rain would have been stupid anyway.

Then he got out again and came around to my side, holding the coat over both of us. Before I could react, he slipped an arm under my knees and another around my back, lifting me out of the seat. I quickly shut the car door and locked it with the key he’d given me earlier.

By the time we reached the porch of the inn, both of us were soaked. Well, mostly him. The coat had shielded me, but his shirt clung to him, drenched completely. My cheeks burned as I realized people were staring.

There was an older couple, two middle-aged women, and an old uncle sitting under the porch, probably stuck like us. The women whispered among themselves, and one of them clicked her tongue.

“Tch tch tch. Dekho toh aaj kal ke naujawano ko kaise kaise... chee chee.”

(Tch tch. Look at today’s youth, doing all this… shameful.)

My eyebrows twitched and I had to bite my tongue to not respond. But my anger melted when I looked at Zaviyar, his hair dripping, water running down his jawline. He’d gotten drenched just to keep me dry. He was about to snap back at the woman when I grabbed his hand.

He turned to look at me, and before he could say a word, I pulled my dupatta end and started wiping his hair.

“Sardi lag jaayegi aise hi bheege rahe toh.” (You’ll catch a cold if you stay drenched like this.)

He just stood there, staring at me like he couldn’t process what was happening. By the time I was done, his once perfectly combed hair was now a messy mop, sticking to his forehead. Somehow, he looked even cuter like that boyish, soft, and a little embarrassed.

“Tch tch… Dekho toh! Honeymoon manana hai toh room mein karo, yahan sab ke saamne nahi.” (Tch tch… If you want to celebrate your honeymoon, do it in your room, not here in front of everyone.)

I let out a deep sigh. I didn’t have the energy to fight with someone but i wouldn't tolerate them making comments on us and thinking they could get away. But before I could say anything, Zaviyar scooped me up again, this time without warning.

“I–I can walk a little,” I stammered, startled.

He shot me a sharp glare. “Koi zarurat nahi hai. Har samay girti parti rehti ho. I need to take back my wife in one piece.”

(No need. You’re always tripping and falling. I have to take my wife back in one piece.)

I shut up instantly. He carried me up the stairs, his grip secure, his jaw tight. By the time we entered the inn lobby, everyone turned to look at us, some curious, some amused, some probably weirded out.

He gently set me down on a bench and walked over to the reception desk. That’s when my eyes fell on the receptionist. A young woman with too much eyeliner and an even more annoying smile.

“Here are the keys to your room, sir,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “If you need anything… make sure to call me.”

She bit her lip. And that was it, my blood boiled.

‘Abeh chudail, door reh mere pati se, muh noch lungi tera!’ (Hey witch, stay away from my husband, or I’ll rip your face off!) I fumed silently, my nails digging into my palm.

I somehow managed to limp over to them. Zaviyar wasn’t even paying attention, his head was down, counting money to pay for the room. ‘Hayee sadu hain, lekin playboy toh nahi hain… iske liye ek chummi dedungi’

(Ugh, he’s such a grump, but at least he’s not a flirt… I’ll give him a kiss for that), I muttered to myself and snatched the cash from his hand. He blinked in shock as I handed the money to the receptionist, who now looked extremely uncomfortable seeing me right beside him.

Before I could say anything, Zaviyar’s arm slid around my waist and he turned me slightly towards him. My heart skipped. His touch was , protective but also very much a warning.

“Room mein chalo, khabar leti hoon tumhari,” (Let’s go to the room, I’ll deal with you there,) I whispered darkly, narrowing my eyes at him.

To say he looked scared would be an understatement. He nodded like a guilty schoolboy, then quickly lifted me into his arms again.

( Author : no one will say the above scene is cringe, okie ?????? )

I buried my face against his chest, partly because it was embarrassing, partly because it was comfortable. His arms were strong, and warm and honestly, who was I to refuse a little princess treatment after all that drama?

He carried me upstairs, each step echoing in the quiet hallway. When we reached the room, he bent slightly so I could unlock the door. I turned the key and pushed it open, and he gently placed me on the bed before calling for room service.

He was about to walk away when I called out, “Jab koi gair ladki tumhe taade, toh seedha bol dena ki I’m married.” (When any random girl flirts with you, just tell her straight that you’re married.)

He turned, hiding a smirk. “Lekin main kisi gair ladki se baat kyun karunga?” (But why would I talk to any random girl?)

I squinted at him. He was definitely about to say something annoying.

“Aur kal aap divorce ka keh rahi thi.” (And yesterday you were saying you wanted a divorce.)

“Haan toh de rahe hain?” (Yeah, so are you giving it?) I shot back, still fuming.

“Kabhi nahi.” (Never.)

And with that, he smiled and disappeared into the washroom leaving me there, still fuming, still blushing, and secretly smiling at the same time.

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Safiya looked around the small, cozy room.

The curtains were drawn and the dim yellow light from the bedside lamp cast a soft golden glow that made everything feel warmer than it probably was.

The room wasntbig. It had a small bed, a wooden wardrobe, a little writing table near the window but it was neat and smelled faintly of sandalwood and fresh linen.

She fetched her phone and quickly connected to the inn’s Wi-Fi. The relief that washed over her when the little Wi-Fi symbol finally appeared on her screen was unmatched. She immediately texted Riffat about their whereabouts and the landslide that had trapped them here for the night.

With a tired sigh, she turned to her side bag and unzipped it. One glance inside and she almost had a heart attack. Lying neatly folded inside were Zaviyar’s sweatpants, his white shirt and her white inner that she usually wore under her kurtis.

Her jaw dropped.

For a moment, she stared at the contents like they had personally betrayed her.

Then it hit her, she had taken her own clothes out earlier.

She’d placed them on the driver’s seat for a minute while she stuffed Zaviyar’s clothes into the side bag.

And then, in all that hurry, she forgot to put hers back in.

Safiya let out a small choked gasp and buried her face in her hands.

“ Yarr bhulakkad hu mein bhi…” ( why do I forget stuff...) she muttered to herself.

Now what? She couldn’t go down to the car. And it was still raining, and the driveway must’ve turned into a mini river by now. Her foot was still bandaged, and the idea of stepping out in that weather was madness.

She glanced at the mirror ahead. The reflection staring back at her was a tired girl in a light pink saree, hair slightly messy, a faint flush on her cheeks.

With a sigh, she picked up Zaviyar’s white shirt from the bed.

The fabric was soft and when she held it against herself, it reached mid-thigh.

She hesitated for a second. Sleeping in a saree was pure torture. The blouse felt tight, and she hated feeling trapped in uncomfortable clothes. So, after a bit of internal debating (and self-scolding), she made up her mind.

She quickly began undoing her saree. Thankfully, it was a ready-to-wear saree, so within minutes, she was out of it.

She slipped out of her bra, put on her white inner, and then wore Zaviyar’s shirt.

It was oversized, baggy, and soft. The sleeves swallowed her arms, so she rolled them up to her elbows.

The shirt hung loosely around her, brushing the middle of her thighs. She turned to look in the mirror and froze.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t imagining things, she did look kind of sexy.

Safiya chuckled to herself, adjusting the collar a bit. “Buri nahi lag rahi main…” (Not looking bad at all…) she muttered under her breath.

Luckily, she had her black shorts underneath as she always wore them under sarees. At least, she didn’t feel completely exposed.

She sat down on the bed, phone in hand, and scrolled through her apps. Within minutes, she was lying comfortably on her stomach, her legs bent and in the air as she swung them, playing the game as the rain pattered softly outside.

(Author: Dekho Safiya ko! Itne romantic mausam mein, apne pati ke saath chatpate pal banane ke bajaye madam phone pe game khel rahi hain! ???????? Lagta hai kuch karna padega…)

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I walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around my waist. I had completely forgotten to take my clothes from her bag. Typical, not like I deliberately forgot to take my clothes.

But the moment I stepped into the room, I froze mid-step.

Shit!

Safiya was lying on her stomach, completely engrossed in some game on her phone. My white shirt was hanging loosely on her frame, the hem brushing the top of her thighs. Her hair spilled to one side, revealing the smooth curve of her neck and the faint skin at her collarbone.

She was wearing my shirt.

Fuck!

I quickly looked away, trying to control my thoughts, but then my eyes— traitors that they are... caught her bare legs. I turned around instantly, coughing loudly just to distract myself.

She finally looked up at the sound. “Kuch chahi—” she began, only to stop mid-sentence with a tiny squeak.

(Do you need— )

I glanced at the mirror in front of us and saw her expression — wide eyes, red face. Oh great.

“Mere kapde chahiye the—” I said without turning around.(I needed my clothes—)

“Woh… woh main galti se apni bas inner leke aayi. You wear your sweatpants and sleep like you always do,” she said awkwardly, scratching her neck.

( I.. I accidentally only brought my inner from the car. You wear your sweatpants and sleep like you always do )

I smirked. “Or you could just say that you want to see me shirtless.”, she squinted her eyes at me in mock anger.

I reached for the bag beside her and that’s when the scent of fresh lavender hit me. Her scent. It was light and soft and honestly, addictive. For a brief moment, I had this insane urge to bury my face in her neck and just—

“Eeeeeek!”

Her sudden shriek broke my thoughts. I turned, startled. “Is everything alright?”

She glared at me like I’d committed a crime

“Pehle toh bas ardh-nanga ghoomte the, aur ab towel mein! Kuch hi dino mein vastraheen bhi ho jaoge!”, she scolded, pointing at me.

(Earlier you used to roam half-naked, and now just in a towel! Soon you’ll stop wearing clothes altogether!)

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Isse pehle ki tumhara mumfali jaisa dimaag kuch khayali pulao banaye, main bata deta hoon. kapde lena bhool gaya tha, isiliye towel pehenke aana pada. Aur tumne bhi toh meri shirt pehen li.”

(Before your peanut-sized brain starts imagining things, let me clarify. I forgot my clothes, that’s why I came in a towel. And by the way, you’re wearing my shirt.)

“Main galti se inner uthake la aayi! Ab woh pehen lungi toh bhai sahab ko sadma lag jaayega yahi pe!”, she snapped.

(I mistakenly packed my nighty! If I wear that, bro here might faint on the spot!)

“Ek toh yeh bhai-shai mat bola karo.”

(Dont call me bro.)

“Arey agar Baba adopted nahi hote toh you would’ve been my brother,” she replied nonchalantly.

( Areh if dad wouldn't have been adopted then you would have been my brother. )

I groaned. “Safiya, the last thing I want to hear from your mouth is that you could’ve been my sister.”

She smirked. “Do you realise, you basically married your step-sister in a way and—”

“Maaf kardo mohtarma! Galti kardi, qubool hai. Lekin the raksha bandhan bandh karo!”, I said dramatically, holding up my hand like a kid surrendering.

(Forgive me madam! I committed a sin by saying ‘I do’ but stop with the raksha bandhan already!)

I started walking toward the bed to grab my sweatpants but suddenly she let out such a loud scream that my heart almost stopped.

Safiya’s eyes widened as if she had just seen a ghost. Her mouth fell open and she immediately covered her face with both palms though curiosity got the best of her, and she peeked through her fingers before jumping again like a startled fish thrown on land.

“Ewww! Ewww! Ewww!” she kept muttering, twisting on the bed like she’d just seen the end of the world.

Zaviyar blinked, utterly confused. “What the actual—” He followed her horrified gaze and looked down… only for his soul to leave his body.

Apparently, the towel that was supposed to be around his waist had betrayed him, half of it was now trapped between the bathroom door and the frame. Though, thankfully, he still had his boxers on, the situation was very self-explanatory.

Mortified, Zaviyar grabbed the nearest bag and dashed back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. His face burned hotter than the geyser inside.

“I mean—yeah, I’ve got assets,” he muttered under his breath, pressing a hand to his forehead, “but this was not the way I wanted her to find out.”

_______________________________________

IT WAS SO BIG!

I didn't really mean to check him out but I had the right to if I wanted to. His dent was so evident through those boxers, an— ‘chee yaar! Kya ashleel cheeze soch rahi hu mein bhi. Aakho mein holy water chidak leti hu.’

‘eww- why am I getting such perverted thoights. I should sprinkle some holy water on me. ’

I sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion in my bones, and picked up the old landline resting on the wooden bedside table.

The inn’s menu card lay open before me, edges curled from overuse.

My eyes skimmed through it until they landed on the picture of steaming, golden mac n cheese. Comfort food. Exactly what I needed.

I knew Zaviyar had already ordered something for dinner, but honestly, I was tired. no, done with the endless rotation of pulao, biryani, parathe, and rice every single day.

Don’t get me wrong, I love them. But sometimes, you crave something different, something that doesn’t smell like home or nostalgia, something that just tastes like a heartattack!

After ordering, I sank onto the bed, the creaky mattress dipping under my weight as I waited for both dishes to arrive. The rain outside had picked up, steady and rhythmic, tapping against the window like a soft drumbeat. Just when I was starting to relax, my phone buzzed beside me.

It was Dad.

My heart softened immediately. I answered the call without hesitation.

“Assalamualaikum, Baba,” I greeted, my voice unusually bright.

He greeted me back with the same warmth, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like the old days… until his next words came. He’d called to ask for business advice. Again.

A small lump formed in my throat. Ever since I got married, his calls had become rare and when they did come, they were strictly about legal matters. Still, I helped him. Because that’s what daughters do.

“Beta, is everything under control with the Khan’s file?” he asked, his voice lined with concern.

“Yes, Baba. I made sure to review all the files of the Khan’s. A few are left and the Khan’s are cunning, but don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” I replied, tapping my foot lightly against the wooden floor, trying not to let the disappointment show in my tone.

After a few more minutes of small talk, the call ended. I placed the phone down and looked up only to find Zaviyar standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable, gaze darkened and intense.

For a second, my breath caught.

What’s his problem now?

He stepped closer, quiet and steady, dressed down in sweatpants and shirtless that somehow made him look even more effortlessly intimidating. He placed the bag on the bed beside me with deliberate calm, like he was fighting to keep something in check.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, there was a sharp knock on the door.

I was about to get up when he stopped me, his hand reaching out firm, commanding. His gaze dropped, tracing the line of my exposed collarbone, down to where my oversized shirt barely covered my thighs.

My heartbeat quickened.

“Apne ird gird ka hosh rakha karo.” he said, his voice low and cold.

( Be aware of your surroundings. )

‘Sadu kahi ka! Aparichit ka bichra hua bhai, pta nahi kya sadma lagta hai inko.’

(Grumpy man! Lost brother of ‘Aparichit,’ I swear something’s wrong with him.)

[ Aparichit is a movie of a guy with bipolar personalities. ]

I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath as he walked toward the door.

From where I sat, I could hear a soft feminine voice—polite, lilting. The receptionist. Of course. She was still wearing her full makeup like she’d just stepped out of a commercial.

Something sharp twisted in my chest. Before I could think twice, I got up and followed him, my bare feet padding against the wooden floor.

He was pulling out his wallet to pay when I appeared beside him, a casual smile plastered on my face. The receptionist’s eyes flicked over me and her smile faltered.

I knew what she saw. A girl wearing a man’s shirt, standing too close to him.

And honestly? That was the whole point.

Not that I was jealous or anything. But if he could go all alpha-male and scare off men who so much as looked at me, then why couldn’t I return the favor?

Without missing a beat, I took the trolley from her, pushed it inside, snatched the cash from Zaviyar’s hand, handed it to the girl, and shut the door. right in her face.

Zaviyar turned slowly, brows raised.

“Itne chhote kapde pehenke baheer na nikla karein.” I said sternly, trying not to laugh.

( Don’t step outside wearing such short clothes. )

He froze, blinking once before his lips curved into a smirk.

I continued, straightening my posture like some queen giving a royal decree.

“Aur yeh dupat—mera matlab hai shawl kahan hai tumhara? Hamare yahan ke mard bina shawl ke gair khatoon ke saamne nahi jaate.”

( And where’s your dupatta—I mean, shawl? Men from our side don’t face other women without one. )

He let out a deep chuckle, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Kapde toh aapne chori kar liye, aur baat rahi gair khatoon ki toh... Itni sundar biwi ke rehte hum kaise kisi aur ko dekh sakte hain.”

( You already stole my clothes, and as for other women… how could I look at anyone else when I have such a beautiful wife? )

My breath hitched.

He sat on the bed, leaning back on his hands, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly under the soft yellow light. His casual confidence was annoying and dangerously attractive.

I turned away before he could notice the heat rising in my cheeks, dragging the trolley closer to the bed. Since the bed was small, I ended up sitting just inches away from him, close enough to catch the faint, musky scent of his after-shower skin.

It smelled way too good.

“Maine toh bas jeera rice aur butter chicken order kiya tha,” he said, eyeing the mac n cheese like it was some strange foreign invention.

( I only ordered jeera rice and butter chicken. )

“Mera bohot man kar raha tha mac n cheese khane ka,” I replied, smiling as I opened the lid.

( I was really craving mac n cheese. )

He sighed, shaking his head. “Pata nahi kya pasand aata hai tum logon ko yeh sab… upar se itna cheese, aur koi taste bhi nahi.”

( I don’t know what you people like in this… so much cheese and no real flavor. )

I rolled my eyes as he handed me a plastic fork.

The aroma of the warm food filled the room, rich and comforting. I twirled my fork into the gooey pasta, took a bite, and nearly moaned. The creamy, spicy, perfectly cheesy taste melted on my tongue.

Across from me, Zaviyar ate quietly, savoring his rice. The sound of the rain and the faint hum of the ceiling fan filled the silence between us.

After a few minutes, I caught him stealing glances at me. So, without thinking, I pushed my bowl toward him.

He raised a brow, muttering, “Yeh sab khane mein kya maza aata hai?”

( What’s even fun about eating this stuff? )

Still, he dug his spoon into my bowl and took a bite. I waited.

And then there it was, the faintest spark of surprise in his eyes.

He liked it.

But of course, he’d never admit it.

“Like I said… average,” he muttered, yet continued to take another spoonful.

‘Jhingur kahika. Pasand aaya lekin accept thori na karega.’

(Idiot. He liked it but won’t admit it.)

I huffed, pretending not to care as I stole a bite from his jeera rice.

When we were done, I packed up the empty containers in the plastic bag and tied it neatly while he cleaned the bed.

I turned to say something when I noticed a small flake of chili resting at the corner of his lip.

Without thinking, I walked up to him.

His eyes flicked up in surprise as I cupped his face in my hands.

For a heartbeat, time stopped.

I wiped the chili flake away with my thumb, but as I did, my fingers lingered longer than they should have. I realized I was standing between his legs, the air around us thick with something unspoken.

My gaze trailed over his face, those almond eyes framed by long lashes, the sharp line of his nose, and his lips perfectly shaped, slightly parted.

My thumb brushed against the corner of his lower lip.

He didn’t move. Neither did I.

The world outside could’ve been on fire, but in that moment, it was just us, standing too close, saying nothing, yet feeling everything.

I was still caught up in that dizzying closeness, his scent and warmth clouding my mind, when a sharp knock on the door pulled me right back to reality. The sound echoed through the small room, slicing through the silence between us.

I blinked, suddenly aware of how close I stood to him. My fingers instantly dropped from his lips, and I stepped back, heart racing.

“Uh… I’ll get it,” I mumbled, my voice coming out shakier than I intended.

I quickly turned around, brushing down my shirt as if that would somehow erase the awkwardness lingering in the air. Part of me expected it to be her again, the overly made-up receptionist with her perfect smile. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t her.

It was a man.

He stood awkwardly in the hallway, holding a pile of fresh bedding in his arms. His eyes didn’t even meet mine; instead, they darted around the corridor as if afraid to accidentally look at the wrong thing.

Relieved, I exhaled softly and reached out to take the linens. But as I tried to shift my weight, my injured foot brushed against the corner of the door.

The pain shot up like fire.

“Ahh—damn!” I hissed, clutching the edge of the door for balance. The throbbing ache returned with full vengeance and before I could steady myself, I felt myself tipping slightly.

That’s when a strong arm catch me.

Zaviyar moved faster than I could even react. His arm wrapped securely around my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the floor. My breath caught as I found myself pressed against his chest for a fleeting second before he carried me straight to the bed.

He placed me down gently, his movements precise, controlled but his jaw was tight.

Without saying a word, he took the extra beddings from the hotel staff, muttered a curt thank you and closed the door with his usual authority.

He then turned back, walking to the bed and setting the folded sheets beside me.

“Bed pe sojao tum, I’ll take the chair.” he said, already grabbing one of the pillows.

( You sleep on the bed, I’ll take the chair. )

Something in me didn’t sit right with that. I reached out and caught his wrist, the warmth of his skin startling me. He turned, brows raised in mild surprise, his eyes flicking down to where my fingers touched him.

“Let’s share the bed,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my pulse betrayed me. I lightly tapped my good foot against the wooden floor, avoiding his gaze.

He blinked, then folded his arms across his chest.

“The bed is too small for both of us.”

“Yes, but you drove around all day today. And tomorrow, you’ll have to drive again. You need proper rest, and that chair won’t suffice.”

My tone was firm. He stared at me for a few seconds, probably weighing whether it was worth arguing. Finally, he just sighed and nodded.

“Fine.”

The word came out reluctantly, but it was enough.

A few minutes later, we were both lying on the narrow bed. Zaviyar was on his back, one arm behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was calculating the trajectory of stars or maybe just trying not to look at me.

I, on the other hand, lay on my side, facing him, pretending to sleep. The sheets rustled softly as the rain outside grew steadier, each drop tapping against the roof like a heartbeat.

The room smelled faintly of rain and warmth and of him. That earthy, musky scent that somehow managed to make my thoughts blur.

After what felt like ages, curiosity got the better of me. I opened one eye, just a peek, to check if he had fallen asleep.

And froze.

Because he was looking right at me.

I squeaked, my eyes widening as I shut them immediately, but the damage was done—he’d seen me. I could feel his low chuckle rumble through the silence.

Then, slowly, he turned onto his side too.

Now we were facing each other, only a few inches apart, the faint glow of the table lamp painting soft golden shadows on his face. His features looked even sharper under the dim light, his lashes casting long shadows on his cheeks, his lips relaxed into something between a smirk and a secret.

Neither of us spoke. The only sounds were the rain’s rhythmic patter and the faint creak of the old ceiling fan.

It was strange, how the silence between us wasn’t heavy anymore. It felt... fragile. Like one wrong word could break it.

Finally, his voice came, low and smooth.

“Good night, Safiya.”

I swallowed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Good night…”

For a few seconds, I stared at him, then turned away, my heart refusing to calm down. But even with my back to him, I could feel his gaze on me, lingering, unreadable.

Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the space between us felt like something shifting, something neither of us wanted to name just yet.

_______________________________________

I jolted awake, my sleep snapping like a thread. Something heavy was pressing down on me. For a second, I couldn’t even move my left arm. It felt numb, pinned. My brows furrowed as I blinked through the faint light spilling from the table lamps.

And then I turned my head.

For a split second, I thought I was hallucinating. But no, the sight before me was real enough to almost give me a heart attack.

Safiya was sprawled right on top of me.

Her hair long, dark, and wild from sleep was scattered across the bed and half over my chest. Her head rested comfortably against my shoulder as if it belonged there, her soft breath fanning across my skin.

One of her hands was resting lazily on my abs while her leg was draped over mine, dangerously close to my crotch.

And of course, the blanket that was supposed to keep us covered had betrayed me as it lay forgotten on the floor.

I froze. Every muscle in my body went rigid.

What the hell is she doing?

I tried to shift a little, maybe ease her off without waking her but the second I moved, she stirred. Her brows creased slightly and before I could react, she groaned, lifted her hand and smacked me lightly on the chest.

“Theek se raho.” she mumbled sleepily before nuzzling her face deeper against my neck.

( Stay still. )

Her voice was muffled, raspy with sleep and for some reason that single sound managed to turn my brain to mush. Her breath tickled the side of my neck, sending a line of goosebumps all the way down my arms.

And just when I thought this situation couldn’t get any worse, it did.

Her hand, which had been resting on my chest, started inching south and before I could even breathe, her leg shifted, brushing right against my crotch.

Fantastic!

I closed my eyes, cursing under my breath. I wasn’t some hormonal teenager who lost it over basic contact, but this… this was testing my limits. Morning wood was one thing, being assaulted by your half-asleep wife was another.

“Yeh ladki sach-mein neend mein bhi chain se nahi rehti,” I muttered, sighing.

( This girl really doesn’t know peace even in her sleep. )

Carefully, very carefully I managed to slide her off me, her body falling limp onto the pillow. I sat up and raked a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly before standing up.

I needed a cold shower. Immediately.

As I turned back to the bed, though, I stopped.

She had unconsciously hugged the pillow in my absence, one hand tucked under her cheek. My shirt, the one she’d stolen last night hung loosely on her, slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her hair glimmered faintly under the soft light filtering in, and her lips were parted slightly in sleep.

Damn. If looks could burn, this bloody pillow and shirt would turn to ash but that's for the latter.

I didn’t even realize when my hand moved, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She stirred slightly, murmured something incoherent, and went back to sleep.

I smiled faintly before heading into the bathroom.

The cold shower helped—well, a little. I stayed under the water longer than necessary, trying to erase the chaos from my mind. By the time I stepped out, the sun had climbed higher, spreading a golden hue across the room.

Safiya was still sleeping and apparently, she had taken over my side of the bed too.

With a quiet sigh, I sat down beside her, planning to rest for just a few minutes. The mattress dipped under my weight, but she didn’t move.

Within moments, sleep began to pull me under again. My eyelids grew heavy, until a sharp pain made me jolt.

“Ahh—!” I gasped, clutching my side.

She had kicked me. Again.

“Unbelievable…” I muttered, glaring down at her.

And as if that wasn’t enough, I could sense another kick incoming. Instinct kicked in before she could, well kick again. I caught her leg midair and pulled her closer, wrapping one arm around her waist.

She gave a small sleepy sound, still completely oblivious to my internal suffering.

“Bas, ab aur nahi,” I mumbled under my breath.

(That’s it, no more of this.)

Her body pressed against mine, her head falling naturally against my chest. I hesitated, this felt way too intimate but honestly, if I didn’t do something, she’d probably leave me bruised by morning.

So I did what I had to.

I tangled our legs together, trapping hers gently to stop her from flailing again. My arm circled her waist, keeping her close but not too close. Her soft hair brushed my chin, her faint scent filling the air warm, sweet, something like vanilla mixed with rain.

Her lips were slightly puckered in sleep, her face calm and almost childlike.

I stared at her for a moment, feeling that strange warmth again, something between peace and chaos.

And before I knew it, I drifted off again. Both of us tangled in each other’s arms, breathing in sync, wrapped in a silence that felt oddly safe.

_________________________________

By the time they reached Azamgarh, the sun had already begun to dip behind the hills. The landslide earlier had delayed them for hours, forcing them to stay at the inn until the roads cleared. The drive afterward had been long and quiet, the kind of silence that carried unspoken things.

When the car finally rolled into the Khan mansion’s grand porch, the evening had already melted into soft twilight.

Zaviyar stepped out first, stretching slightly before circling around to Safiya’s side. He opened the car door and leaned in.

“Safiya—” he started, but stopped mid-word.

She was fast asleep. Her head leaned against the window, her hair falling over her face, her lips parted slightly in exhaustion. A faint crease still lingered between her brows as if she was dreaming of something that wouldn’t quite leave her alone.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Bending down, he slipped one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her easily into his arms. She stirred slightly, her head falling against his chest.

The chauffeur stared, half-confused, half-terrified as Zaviyar carried her inside without a single word.

“Aagaye mere bachche!” Riffat’s voice echoed from the hall.

( My children are back! )

Zaviyar stopped, turning slightly. Riffat stood there with a wide smile, a few maids behind her, all watching with stunned faces as he carried his wife in his arms.

He simply nodded politely and continued walking toward their room. Riffat watched them go, her expression softening as she took their nazar, smiling quietly to herself.

For the first time, she had seen her son not just as the heir of the Khan empire but as a husband.

Though, she couldn’t ignore the small details, he hadn’t greeted her like he usually did. Or gone to his grandfather's room directly like he always did. Something was changing. Something she couldn’t quite name yet.

“Finally,” Zaviyar muttered once he reached their room, laying Safiya carefully on the bed.

He covered her with a blanket, tucking it around her shoulders before heading for a quick shower.

When he came out, fresh and in a plain black kurta, he found her awake rubbing her eyes with a soft frown.

“Uth gayi aap?” he asked, his voice carrying a faint tease.

( You’re awake? )

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink almost instantly. Because, of course, she remembered.

She remembered the morning, the awkward position, the unexpected warmth, the way she had slept on him like he was her personal pillow.

The entire drive, she’d done her best to ignore him, pretending to be asleep, earphones plugged in while listening to random horror stories just to keep her mind off him and not blush every time she found his eyes in her through the rear view mirror.

But now, as she looked at him standing there, hair still damp, sleeves rolled up, and that faint smirk tugging at his lips, her plan failed miserably. Her gaze dropped. Her heart didn’t.

The blush spread deeper and Zaviyar noticed.

He didn’t say anything. Just smiled faintly, the kind that said he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Zaviyar blinked his eyes open, stretching his arms lazily before turning around to check on Safiya, only to let out a startled shriek.

Instead of Safiya’s face, he was met with her foot right next to his pillow. He shot upright, blinking rapidly and the sight before him left him completely baffled.

There she was, his wife sleeping upside down on the bed, her head hanging off the edge, one leg sprawled across his lap, and the other resting on a pillow. Her mouth was slightly open, a thin line of drool slipping down one corner.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. Why was she sleeping like this? She had never slept like this in his room before.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his phone and quietly took a few pictures just to show her later. That’s when his eyes caught the sight of his own shirt scrunched up around her abdomen, revealing a sliver of skin and her black shorts underneath.

Immediately, he pulled the blanket over her, covering her up, and was just about to get out of bed when Safiya suddenly sat up with a jerk.

“What time is it?” she mumbled in her sleepy voice, rubbing her eyes.

“7 am. Get some sleep, we still have time before we head out.”

She nodded drowsily and tried to fix the blanket but instead got tangled in it. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she tripped and fell forward with a thud.

Trying to steady herself, she pressed her hand against the bed and , only to be startled by a loud scream.

Her eyes snapped open in horror. Zaviyar sat frozen, his face pale and his expression utterly ghostly like his soul had just left his body.

“Kya hua, theek ho?” she asked, pressing her left hand down on the bed for support while reaching out to check on him with her right only to watch him collapse backward on the mattress, groaning in pain, one arm covering his eyes.

She frowned and looked down and that’s when she realized what her left hand was pressing against under the blanket. Her eyes widened in shock. She immediately yanked her hand away like it had been burned, her expression twisted in disgust.

She held her left hand up and away from her body, her face contorted like she might throw up any second.

“Zaviy—” she began but before she could finish, Zaviyar grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto him. She landed on top of him with a squeak, wide-eyed.

“Yeh sab kya hain?” she cried out. “Tum meri advantage le rahe ho.”

( What is all this? You are taking advantage of me. )

Zaviyar let out a dry chuckle. “Kya? Advantage? Tum kal puri raat mera balatkar karne par tuli hui thi.” he said accusingly.

( What advantage? Last night you were assaulting me. )

Safiya tried to wriggle free but his grip only tightened. She froze when she heard an involuntary groan escape him.

Her eyes widened further as she noticed from the corner of her vision, the slight movement in his crotch, brushing lightly against her thigh.

Her scream echoed through the room and the next second, Zaviyar was on the floor, clutching himself in pain. His face twisted with regret as he looked down at his crotch, silently praying his “system” had survived the assault.

‘Ab pata chala issne kyu pucha tha I want kids or not. Abhi no boldeta toh yeh sab tigram lagake mujhe impotent karne ka plan nahi banati.’

( That's why she asked me whether I want kids or not. I should've said no, at least then she wouldn't have made such plans to make me impotent. )

“Mein impotent bangaya toh tumhare fantasies kaun pure karega, sweetheart.”

Safiya’s jaw dropped as she looked at him in disbelief before making a face of disgust and sticking out her tongue.

“You can use that but I prefer your lips,” he said with a shameless shrug, managing to get up despite the pain.

Safiya blinked at him, tilting her head in disbelief, before realization struck.

“Chee— kitne gande hain aap. Kese apattijanak aur abhadratapurn baatein karte hain. Shameless. Sau besharam mare honge tab aap paida hue honge!” she yelled, hurling a pillow at him.

( Ugh— you’re so dirty. How can you say such inappropriate and dirty things? Shameless. There must have been a hundred shameless people around the time you were born. )

He ducked just in time. “Ab jesa bhi hu, aapka hu. Lekin yu zulm na karein apne future bachcho ke upar.” he quipped before darting out of the room and slamming the door shut, narrowly avoiding another flying pillow.

“Besharam!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the hallway.

( Shameless )

Zaviyar only chuckled under his breath, muttering, “Cold shower number two,” before disappearing into the bathroom once again.

Flashback End

“Wait, how did I come here from the car?”

Safiya asked, turning to him. Zaviyar only shrugged. She already knew the answer, of course, he must have carried her here.

She was about to get up when he stopped her, gently placed her foot on the bed, and began to unwrap the crepe bandage around her ankle, carefully inspecting it.

“Is it still hurting?” he asked, looking up at her. She shook her head silently.

“I already switched on the geyser, so warm water should be there. Freshen up. I'll ask them to bring dinner here.”

Safiya nodded and was about to stand when he suddenly picked her up in his arms, bridal style and walked her inside the bathroom, setting her carefully on the edge of the bathtub.

Meanwhile, Safiya tried to form her words, “Zaviyar, you know that I can walk now, right?”

He stared at her for a solid minute before scratching his head. “I know, but mujhe aadat lag gayi karne ki. I guess.”

Just as he was about to walk out, his foot slipped on the rug. Trying to steady himself, he accidentally turned the shower valve, causing water to pour down over both of them. Within seconds, they were drenched from head to toe.

He quickly turned off the knob, muttered an apology, and walked out rubbing his neck in embarrassment. That’s when Safiya noticed, his ears had turned red.

-___________________________________

I stepped out of the bathroom only to freeze in shock. Mom stood there, along with a few maids, all holding trays of food.

“What are you doing here?” I asked sharply, narrowing my eyes.

She only shrugged. “Just brought you dinner like always. I know that after a trip you hate coming out of your room,” she said, motioning for the staff to place the trays on the table.

“Safiya kahan hain? Dikhayi nahi de rahi?” she asked with a smile.

( Where is Safiya? I didn't see her around. )

“She is taking a bath,” I said casually, crossing my arms as I waited for them to finish.

But the moment those words left my mouth, the entire room went quiet. Mom and the staff froze mid-motion, all looking at me with wide eyes before awkwardly resuming their work.

That’s when it hit me. I just told them Safiya was taking a bath... right after I walked out of the bathroom.

Yeah. That definitely sounded like we were bathing together.

Still, I didn’t care. She’s my wife. I can be however I want with her. But there’s something that does need to stop.

When the staff finished, I gestured for them to leave and turned to Mom.

“Mom, as much as I appreciate your thoughtfulness, this room now belongs to Safiya as well and it’s not correct for you to walk in here with staff members just like that,” I said, keeping my tone as calm as possible.

I’ve always valued my privacy, and Mom… well, she always found reasons to invade it.

“I know, but mein khana dene aayi thi bas,” she said, frowning.

“I know, Mom. But you entered without our permission. What if we both were in a way that would make you uncomfortable? Dadi always told you not to step foot into the west wing, and I hope you follow that. Usi mein sabki bhalayi hain.”

Riffat’s smile faded. Without another word, she turned around and left, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

I sighed. I knew she’d be upset, but I couldn’t risk anyone invading our privacy, not when things were already fragile between Safiya and me.

Every morning, I had to ensure no one noticed that we slept separately or that our relationship wasn’t perfect.

Things were changing, yes, but slowly. I knew it would take time. And if society ever pointed fingers, they’d blame her first. I’d rather take all the blame than let anyone humiliate my wife.

_______________________________________

Riffat walked through the long, dimly lit corridors of the haveli, her steps echoing softly against the marble floor.

She made sure each door and window was properly locked, the faint chill of the evening brushing against her face.

As she turned toward her room, she noticed two of the maids walking hurriedly toward the servants’ quarters, their voices low yet carrying enough to echo slightly in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Have you seen what is happening in the haveli now?” one of them asked with a sharp edge of sarcasm.

“Haan, tamasha banke reh gayi hain khan haveli. Jinhe hum itni izzat dete hain woh log hee aajkal gaon ki maryada bhang kar rahe hain..”, the ladies stopped at the corner and switched off the lights of the hallway, Riffat following close behind.

( Yes, the Khan mansion has turned into a circus. The very people we give so much respect to are breaking the norms of the village these days…)

“Dekha nhi nawab sahab ko, kese chhoti bibiji ko uthake leke gaye kamde tak. Ab batao bhala, ese koun karta hain.”

( Haven’t you seen Sahib, how he carried his wife to the room? Tell me honestly, who does that? )

“Ekdum sahi kha, aur aajkal woh thore se alag hogaye hain. Biwi jouh bole wohi karte hain. Joru ke ghulaam kese.”

( Exactly, and these days he’s changed a bit. He does exactly what his wife says. He has become his wife's slave, dancing like a puppet on her fingers. )

“Jyada din nhi jab Safiya bibi gaon ke saare faisle lene lageh aur sahab ghar mein unke kapde istri karte hue dikhe.”, one of them laughed

( It won't be long before Safiya ma'am started taking all the decisions for the village, and Sahib will be seen ironing her clothes at home. )

“Aur batao bhala kaunsa shohar apni biwi ko ese kaale, mardo vaale kapde pehen kar court kacheri mein bhejta hain. Gaon bhar mein sab isi ko leke baat kar rahe hain.”

( And tell me, what kind of husband sends his wife to the court wearing black, men’s-style clothes? The whole village is talking about this. )

“Haan sahi kha. Shaadi se pehle tak theek tha lekin ab shaadi ke baad kya zarurat kaam karne ki. Ab hume hee dekho, gareeb hain isiliye kaam karna parta hain.”

( Yes, you're right. Everything was fine before the marriage, but after marriage, why does she need to work? Look at us, we are poor, that’s why we have to work. )

“Hamare shohar bhi touh achche hain, humeh kabhi galat kaam karne nhi dete. Seedhe dou thappar jadh dete hain gaal par. Isiliye touh aaj bhi hamare gaon ki ladkiya itni tehzeeb aur gairatmand hain.”

( Our husbands are right, they never let us do anything wrong. They just give a slap on the cheek when needed. That’s why even today, the girls of our village are so cultured and honorable. )

“kuch chand paiso ke liye, apni izzat nhi bechte humlog.”

( Yes, we don’t sell our honor for a few coins. )

“Kya hee kar sakte hain. Safiya bibi thehri sheher ki, waha touh ladkiya chhote chhote kapde pehente hain aur mene sunah hain shaadi se pehle hee woh sab bhi karte hain.”

( What else can we do? Safiya Bibi is from the city, girls there wear tiny little clothes, and I’ve heard they do all of that even before marriage. )

Riffat paused at the end of the hallway, the words fading into the soft evening light filtering through the windows. The echoes of the maids’ whispers reminded her how quickly gossip traveled through the haveli.

“Koi hidayat deh inn shehro ke ladkiyo kou.”

(.Someone should guide these city girls.)

“Zulekha na bhaagti, touh aaj woh hamari bibi ji hoti.”

( If Zulekha hadn’t run away, she would have been our lady today. )

“Woh hee sahi thi. Khan ke layak thi, koi esi wesi ladki nhi. Aur Safiya bibi se bohot jyada sundar bhi thi. Safiya bibi utni bhi sundar nhi hain.”

( She was right. She was worthy of the Khan, not just any girl. And she was far more beautiful than Safiya Bibi. Safiya Bibi isn’t that beautiful.)

“Chhoro humeh kya, Sahab aur bibi-ji ki marzi woh jese rahe.”

( Forget it, it’s up to Sahib and Bibi-Ji how they want to be. )

Riffat watched as they entered the quarters and turned around, clutching her tasbeeh tightly as she looked at the picture of the whole Khan family before she retired to her chambers with a heavy heart.

_______________________________________

Safiya’s POV

I slowly got down from the bed and reached for the bottle on the nightstand, chugging down the water in one go.

It was 2:30 a.m. Water in the middle of the night always tasted extra refreshing.

I stretched my arms, only to wince as a sharp pain shot through my shoulders. Long drives and bumpy roads, I’m completely exhausted. Thank God I didn’t have to appear in court tomorrow.

I was just about to lie back down when a soft, agonizing groan made me freeze.

My eyes darted toward Zaviyar. He was tossing slightly, his expression twisted in discomfort.

The table lamp casts a gentle glow. I always kept it on since sleeping in the dark made me uneasy and in that light, I could clearly see his face. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

I hesitated for a second, then walked toward him. My heart clenched when I placed my hand on his forehead, it was burning hot.

He must have caught a cold from that shower. He drove for hours, got drenched, and then continued the trip without rest.

I quickly fetched a bowl of water and a clean towel, beginning to give him the cold water strip method. His breathing steadied a little, but when I checked his temperature, it was 102°F — still too high.

I hurried to get his medicines, then gently shook him awake. His eyes fluttered open weakly, dazed and hazy. He coughed hard, looking completely lost.

“Zaviyar— here, drink this,” I said softly, supporting him as I offered the warm water. He took slow sips, his gaze fixed on me like he was trying to make sense of whether I was real or not.

Then I pushed the medicine past his lips and made him swallow it which he did without resistance. I dragged a chair closer to the bed, but before I could sit—

His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed mine tightly.

“Stay...” he whispered, his voice hoarse and weak. His burning skin pressed against my colder one as his fingers wrapped around mine.

“Please... stay... Mmmhh ,” he murmured before drifting back into sleep.

For a moment, I considered waking tayi ammi, but then thought better of it. It was too late. And maybe... maybe he’d never had anyone take care of him like this before.

I gently wiped the sweat off his forehead and collarbone, replaced the cool cloth, and sat back in the recliner. Our hands were still intertwined, his grip firm even in sleep.

I didn’t realize when my eyes started to close, the exhaustion of the day pulling me under, our fingers still laced together, our breaths falling into the same calm rhythm.

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The morning rays streamed through the curtains, stabbing at my eyes until I blinked them open.

My body felt strangely heavy, something pressing down on my stomach.

As I lifted my head slightly, I felt something soft resting on my forehead — a white cloth.

My gaze followed the line of fabric, and that’s when I saw her.

Safiya.

Her head lay on my stomach, her hair a tousled mess and our hands were intertwined over my chest. For a second, my breath hitched. The sight was too tender, too intimate.

I slowly sat up and a dizzy wave hit me, the room seemed to spin. Blinking away the haze, I noticed the chair beside the bed where she had been sleeping awkwardly, the bowl of water next to it still half full.

And then, the memories flooded back.

Her gentle fingers running through my hair.

Her soft voice humming something I couldn’t quite recognize.

The way she caressed my forehead just like ammi used to when I was a kid.

A faint rustle made me look up. Safiya was stirring, rubbing her eyes as if trying to remember where she was. When her gaze met mine, realization flickered across her face and immediately after, pain. She winced, clutching her lower back with a groan.

“Gayi meri kamar, ufff,” she mumbled, stretching to ease her stiff muscles.

( My back hurts, ufff! )

A small smile tugged at my lips. She looked so adorably disheveled, yet so her.

She got up and walked toward me, her steps slow but determined. Then, without a word, she bent down her face inching closer and closer. My throat went dry. I could see every detail of her face now, her lashes, her chapped lips, the faint trace of sleep still clinging to her expression.

God, those lips. Dry, slightly cracked, but inexplicably tempting.

I had to look away before my thoughts betrayed me.

And then I felt i a cool, soft touch against my forehead.

Startled, I looked up to find her leaning in, her almond-shaped eyes meeting mine. Our foreheads touched, and for a moment, everything stopped. The air grew thick, charged with something unspoken. She didn’t move away. Neither did I.

Unable to stop myself, I raised my hand and brushed my fingers along her cheek, tracing the light specks of freckles that danced across her skin. Her breath hitched, and so did mine.

“Thanks,” I muttered quietly.

She nodded, stepping back a little, though her fingers still lingered near mine as if unsure whether to let go.

For a moment, silence wrapped around us.

The morning light danced across her face and I found myself smiling without reason.

I reached out, holding her wrist as she was about to turn and leave.

“ You didn't have to stay up all night. You should have got some rest. ”, I said looking at her. She just looked at me over her shoulder and gave me a smile, the sunlight falling on her face making her face look angelic.

“ Mein nhi karti touh koun karta? ”, she grinned before walking away but with the ease she said it made my heart flutter.

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