Here goes the chapter, Although I was not happy with the response after giving you guys a long chapter too with much hard work, its demotivating and upsetting to see with so much of read only 150+ comments and 500 votes.
I genuinely ask every silent readers how much time does it take? To press a star button and write few words of appreciation?
I was seriously not in a mood to give you guys chapter after receiving such low response, but for those who support me I have to post it, twice in a week as you guys deserve it.
And I read all the comments which charged up my energy specially inline comments I really enjoy it.
So please meharbani karke jo bhi chupe hue log hai apne hathon ko thora kam pe lagaye, itna toh banta hai! ð
The noon sun beat down on the bustling road, casting a golden glow over the vibrant scene. Clouds bloomed in the sky, their soft white peaks stretching upwards like cotton candy, threatening to unleash a refreshing rain shower at any moment.
Hayaan's sleek Royal Royce glided smoothly through the traffic, its polished surface reflecting the sun's rays like a mirror. He sat in the driver seat.
His eyes flicked occasionally to the rearview mirror, his gaze lingering on the two cars flanking them behind, one in front of him. their tinted windows concealing the sharp eyes and trained weapons of their loyal guards.
Behind him, Sufiyaan's Mercedes kept pace, its engine purring softly as he expertly navigated the crowded streets. His eyes fixed on the road ahead, his expression calm and collected.
Hala, Sufiyaan wife, sat beside him, her eyes fixed intently on her phone as her thumbs danced across the screen, scrolling through the endless feed with a look of rapt attention.
Meanwhile, his mother and grandmother settled into the back seats, their voices fluttering like birds as they chatted about this and that, their words punctuated by occasional glances at the couple, their expressions disapproving, as if they expected Sufiyaan and Hala to be gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, but were instead met with a sense of detachment.
As the car hummed along, Sufiyan and Hala exchanged a glance, the air thickening with unspoken tension before averting their eyes.
His mother and grandmother shared a look, and in that moment, they knew something was off. They felt a disconnect, a glitch in their connection. They both noticed the vibe and decided to step in, just like they did with Aairan. They wanted to help the couple
As we made our way to the bustling mall,
I couldn't help but shoot her a sideways glare. Hala seemed oblivious to my irritation, humming along to the music playing in her earbuds. I shook my head, still trying to process what had happened earlier.
I couldn't shake off the lingering resentment, my mouth still smarting from the unexpected assault on my taste buds, the salty tang of her mischief refusing to be washed away by mere water.
Seriously namak dalna tha tou thoda daal deti lagta hai pura daba dala tha is chudail ne, iska badla tou Mein leke rahunga.
Seriously, if she had to add salt, she could've added just a little, but it feels like this witch emptied the whole container. I'll definitely take revenge for this.
"Tum dono aksar aise chup hotay ho ki humhe dekh ke hue ho?" Dado questioned As I glanced in the rearview mirror, Dado's eyes narrowed, her brow shooting up in a suspicious arc.
You both often go so quiet, as if you've been caught after seeing us."
I couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle, the sound betraying my attempted nonchalance.
"Nai dado wou meri biwi ko ziada baat karna pasand nai usne bataya mujhe" I forced a bright, artificial smile, but Hala wasn't having it. She shot me a sideways glare, her eyes flashing with annoyance.
No, Dado, my wife doesn't like talking much. She told me herself."
"Aisa hai Kya bete kyu baat nai karna pasand, is khote ne kuch kaha hai kya tujhe" Dado questioned her, I widened my eyes, taken aback by Dado's sudden switch in allegiance.
Is that so, kid? Why don't you like talking? Did this idiot say something to you?
I had expected her to be on my side, or at least neutral, but now she seemed to be ganging up on me with Hala. My mind raced as I tried to come up with a convincing explanation, but before I could speak, Hala jumped in.
Hala smirked at me, her lips curling up in a sly, knowing smile. But as our eyes met, I shot her a warning glance, my eyes flashing a clear message: "Don't even think about it, Hala. Keep your mouth shut." It was a silent threat, but a potent one.
"Actually Dado yeh mjhse gusse se baat karate hai dimaag garam he rehta hai inka hamesha, tou Mein darti hoon unse baat karne mein" Hala responded with a masterful display of innocence, her eyes wide and blinking like a child.
Actually, Dado, he talks to me angrily. His mind is always heated, so I'm afraid to talk to him."
But I wasn't buying it. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, my expression a clear "save it, Hala." I'd seen that act before, and I knew she was capable of conjuring up a fake innocence that could put a saint to shame.
"Khote da puttar tenu sharam ni aundi apni masoom biwi naal gussa karda hai" Dado scolded me, but she wasn't really mad. She slapped my arm, but it was a soft tap. I looked at her and Hala saw she was trying not to smile. Her eyes sparkled withjoy.
You shameless fool, don't you have any shame? You get angry with your innocent wife?
"Masoom kahan se hai yeh chudail" I muttered under my breath, my hands tightening around the steering wheel as I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down. The tension in my body was palpable, and I could feel my heart racing with frustration.
Innocent? Where is this witch innocent?
"Puttar tou bura mat man yeh mere sare pote apne Dada pe Gaye hai unka bhi dimag garam hai rehta hai, jab bhi yeh gussa kare tou thanda pani phenk diyo sar pe, mein bhi yehi karti thi" Dado offered Hala some advice, and Hala responded with a fit of giggles, her head bobbing up and down in enthusiastic agreement.
Child , don't take it the wrong way. All my grandsons take after their grandfather, his mind is always heated too. Whenever he gets angry, just splash cold water on his head. I used to do the same.
Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and her smile was infectious, making it hard for me to stay annoyed.
"Mumma dado ko samjhaye kya bol rahi usko, wou sach me kardegi"I exclaimed, my eyes wide with surprise as I turned to my mother. She chuckled, a warm, throaty sound that filled the air, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled.
Mumma, explain to Dado what she's saying to her? She'll really do it!
"Areh mein kya bolun Maa ne mujhe bhi yeh Idea diya tha tumhare baba ke liye or kam karta hai yeh" She responded with a casual shrug, her tone so nonchalant it was as if she was discussing the weather.
Hey, what can I say? Mom gave me this idea for your father, and it really works!
I shook my head in wonder, my eyes rolling in disbelief at the absurdity of my strange and wonderful family.
As I drove, I couldn't help but notice Zeeshan's interest in the surroundings, his eyes scanning the landscape like a curious child.
Behind him, Aairah and Mahira were seated, Ada sandwiched between them, her eyes fixed on the side mirror, taking in the view with a look of wonder. But my focus was on the road, my hands moving with practiced ease on the wheel.
That was until I glanced in the rear mirror and saw Aairah's face, her eyes sparkling with delight as she watched the raindrops race down the glass. Her grin was infectious, and I found myself smiling along with her, my gaze faltering for a moment as I got lost in her joy.
The rain grew heavier, the droplets pounding against the windshield in a steady rhythm, but I didn't need to worry about it, my focus solely on the road ahead. The wipers swept back and forth, clearing the view, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me.
But then, my eyes found Aairah again, and I was struck by the sheer brightness of her happiness. The rainstorm, with its rhythmic drumming against the windows, seemed to dance around her as she leaned into it, her face alight with a childlike wonder.
Her eyes, wide and sparkling, reflected the gray sky above, as if they held the very essence of the storm's beauty. She rolled down the window, and a single raindrop caught her palm, gliding down like liquid glass. She held her hand out in quiet reverence, fingers outstretched as if to welcome the storm. In that moment, the world around her seemed to pause, as if time itself was holding its breath to watch her delight in the simplest of pleasures.
"Kitni piyari baarish hai" She exclaimed with a wide, radiant smile, her cheeks flushed with a natural warmth that deepened the rosy hue of her face.
"What a lovely rain!
The brightness in her expression seemed to warm my heart , and in that moment, my heart swelled with a quiet, undeniable joy. Her presence, so effortlessly captivating, made the world feel just a little bit softer.
"Meri Begum se zyada nahi" Kash yeh mein unke samne keh sakta ke kaise unki muskurahat mere dil ko kitna sukoon dete hai.
Not more than my wife." I wish I could tell her how her smile brings so much peace to my heart.
As I glanced at her reflection in the mirror, a soft smile tugged at my lips. My heart warmed, a comforting ache spreading through my chest. She looked so content, so effortlessly happy, and so gorgeous in that red suit I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.
I tried to focus on the road, but each time my gaze flickered back to the mirror, I was drawn in againâher joy seemed to light up the entire car. It was like a quiet, beautiful thing that I couldn't get enough of.
Mahira leaned towards her, her lips brushing her ear as she whispered something that seemed to make the air between them shimmer with secrecy.
The words caused a subtle flush to bloom on her cheeks, a delicate pink that deepened into a soft scarlet. As she raised her head, her eyes met mine, and in that instant, I was caughtâred-handed, caught in the act of staring, too absorbed to look away.
A rush of heat surged through my veins, spreading to the tips of my ears, making them burn with the sudden awareness of being seen.
I quickly cleared my throat, averting my gaze, but as though compelled, my eyes flickered back to her. She wasn't looking away; instead, her gaze met mine once moreâshy, yet steady, and it held a magnetic pull I couldn't escape.
In that moment, time seemed to stretch, as if the entire world faded into the background and it was just the two of us, locked in a silent exchange.
Her eyes, wide and tender, held mine in a way that made my heart skip a beat, and I found myself utterly captivated, lost in the quiet intensity of the connection between us.
"Bhai, bhabhi pe kam, road pe ziada dhyaan dijye, Meri tou shadi bhi nahi hui ab tak marna nahi mujhe" Zeeshan exclaimed, his voice cutting through the quiet tension that had settled between us.
Bhai, focus more on the road and less on Bhabhi. I haven't even gotten married yet, don't get me killed!
The words shattered the delicate moment, and I immediately snapped my gaze away from her, shooting him a glare sharp enough to slice through steel.
My fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. Zeeshan, however, seemed to find the situation amusing, his smirk teasing, mocking.
Behind me, I heard Mahira's laugh, light and carefree, like a melody that added to the chaos in the car.
I took a breath, trying to steady myself, then shot back with a stern face, "Waise, agar na bhi hua kuch, to tu mere haath se he marega ek din." My voice was firm, laced with a hint of threat. Reaching across, I grabbed him by the neck, my fingers pressing into the skin with just enough force to make him squirm.
Anyway if nothing happens you will still die by my hands one day.
He gulped, his smirk faltering for the first time, his eyes darting between me and Bhabhi as if weighing the danger of his teasing.
"bhabhi help me bhai dara rahe hai mujhe" He turned to Aairah with an expression of faux innocence, his wide eyes almost pleading, his lips slightly puckered as if to convey a silent complaint.
Bhabhi, help me! Bhai is scaring me!
I couldn't help but roll my eyes in response, the gesture almost automatic, as I felt the familiar frustration bubble up inside me.
Aairah, however, seemed undeterred by the theatrics. Her gaze shifted from him to me, her brow furrowing with a subtle, concerned furrow.
"Hayaan choren usay" She spoke softly, her voice laced with a quiet concern, her eyes mirroring the worry that her words failed to capture.
Hayaan leave him.
Mujhse Ziada tou yeh qareeb hai Meri begun ke, this thought didn't set well with me, I felt a burning session inside me for the first time, I was feeling like this.
Am I getting jealous?
I couldn't help but roll my eyes, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Without waiting for a response, I turned away, choosing silence over any further exchange.
Zeeshan, however, seemed unfazed. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his expression dripping with amusement as if he found the entire situation more entertaining than troubling.
"Aaani, look, that monkey is so cute" Ada exclaimed, her voice bright and filled with excitement as she tugged gently on Aairah's arm. Aairah's attention shifted instantly, her eyes following Ada's playful gesture before both of them turned toward the window.
The two of them were lost in a world of their own, giggling and whispering about something, Their laughter was light and carefree, a sound that wrapped around the room like a soft melody.
Watching them, I couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight, the bond between them so effortless, so genuine.
"Waise Ada Bhabhi ko Aani kyu bulati Hain?" Zeeshan raised a brow, his expression shifting into a frown as he voiced his question, the curiosity evident in his tone.
By the way, why does Ada call's Bhabhi Aani?"
Even I felt the spark of curiosity, a question lingering in the back of my mind, but I never brought myself to ask. I never questioned my wife about whether she should be her Mami.
"Actually Aani means Masi in Pashto that's why Aairah asked her to call her that, even though it's unique and I approved it personally because she is my best friend" Mahira clarified, and in that simple gesture, everything became clear to me. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and I finally understood.
Honestly, I didn't have any problem with it. After all, Mahira had been her best friend long before we even got married. Their bond was unshakable, rooted in years of shared memories and unspoken trust. It only made sense that their connection would remain strong.
"Oh so Ada Bhabhi ko maasi bulati hai tou apko Mamu Matlab Ap or Bhabhi tou bhai behen ban gaye" Zeeshan raised his brows mischievously, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he cracked a joke.
Oh, so Ada calls Bhabhi 'Maasi,' which means you are 'Mamu.' So, you and Bhabhi have become like brother and sister!
His words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but cough, caught off guard by the unexpected humor. Mahira, her face turning a shade of red, quickly covered her mouth, but her laughter bubbled out uncontrollably.
Meanwhile, Aairah widened her eyes in surprise, her gaze flickering between Zeeshan and me. Her eyes met mine, a silent exchange passing between us, both of us unsure whether to laugh or scold him for his teasing.
"Muh band kar warna chalti gaadi se bahir phenk duga" I shot him a deathly glare, my expression a mask of utter seriousness, warning him without a word.
Shut your mouth, or else I'll throw you out of the moving car.
Zeeshan immediately caught the intensity in my eyes, his smirk faltering for a moment. Without missing a beat, he pressed a finger to his lips in mock surrender, shaking his head as if to say, "Alright, I get it."
"Ap ko bura laga tou Mein Ada se maami bulwa lungi" Aairah replied with an awkward smile, her lips curving just slightly, as if trying to smooth over the tension in the air.
If you feel bad, I'll ask Ada to call me 'Maami'.
I glanced at her through the mirror, catching the way her eyes flickered with uncertainty. She seemed to think I was angry, her expression betraying the concern she felt.
I shook my head, a subtle movement, letting her know without speaking that it wasn't anger I was feeling. It was more a mixture of frustration and amusement, though I didn't quite know how to put that into words.
We stopped the car at a red signal, the engine idling quietly as the world outside continued to rush by. Suddenly, a small knock at Zeeshan's side of the window caught our attention.
He lowered the window, and as the air rushed in, as the rain had stopped, I noticed the boy standing there. Barely six years old, his clothes were worn and faded, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and desperation.
He was selling gajra, the delicate flower garlands hanging from his small hands, swaying slightly in the breeze. His voice, soft and hesitant, barely reached our ears over the hum of the traffic, but his intent was clearâhe was offering something beautiful in exchange for a little kindness.
"Bhai apni biwi ke liye lelo na," the boy requested, his eyes filled with hope as he stared up at Zeeshan, holding out the gajra with quiet sincerity.
Bhai, take it for your wife.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness seeing the young child, barely old enough to understand the weight of his struggles, offering something so simple yet meaningful for a few coins. It was heartbreaking to think how these kids had to endure so much just for a handful of notes.
But Zeeshan, being Zeeshan, didn't miss a beat. With a smirk, he leaned slightly toward the window and replied.
"Beta, abhi meri shadi nai hui, tou biwi nai hai, khushi ke kuch din hain bas, Jab ajayegi biwi tou lene aajunga. Abhi us side se ja, unke paas bahut khoobsurat biwi hai, woh lenge." He pointed at me, his sarcasm dripping with mock seriousness.
"Son, I'm not married yet, so I don't have a wife. There are just a few days of happiness left. When my wife comes, I'll come to take it. For now, go that side, He has a very beautiful wife, he'll take it."
I shot him a quick shut-up look, my gaze as sharp as I could muster, silently willing him to stop his teasing. The poor kid looked confused for a moment, unsure whether Zeeshan's words were serious or just another joke.
"Biwi nai tou kya, behen, bhabhi ke liye bhi le sakta hai, kanjoos kahin ka!" Mahira taunted, slapping Zeeshan's arm with playful irritation.
If you don't have a wife, then you can still take it for your sister or Bhabhi, you stingy person!
Zeeshan, not one to take it quietly, immediately grabbed the tissue box and tossed it at her face with a mischievous grin.
The box hit her squarely, and Mahira let out a small hiss of surprise, her hand flying up to her cheek.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the whole scene, the childish bickering between them almost as absurd as it was amusing.
Meanwhile, the poor kid stood there, still waiting, clearly unsure what to make of all the chaos unfolding in front of him.
"Stop it, Zeeshan, and behave! teri pocket money band do hafton ke liye" I said firmly, my tone carrying a hint of warning. Zeeshan widened his eyes in exaggerated innocence, trying to hard but i didnt give in.
Your pocket money is banned for two weeks
I turned my attention back to the boy, whose small, eager hands still held out the gajra. I reached out and bought one from him, handing him the money.
Then handed it to Aairah. She looked surprised for a moment, as if she hadn't expected me to do it, but then stretched her hand toward me. As our fingers brushed, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between us, and a shiver ran down my spine.
I quickly looked away, not wanting to acknowledge the strange sensation, but the moment lingered in the air between us, both of us feeling it.
"Ohhhh..." Both Mahira and Zeeshan hooted in unison, their teasing voices filling the air. Aairah's face immediately turned a deep shade of red, her cheeks glowing with a mix of embarrassment and surprise.I shook my head, trying to control the smile that threatened to break across my face. The playful atmosphere around us was hard to ignore, but I focused on what mattered.
Ignoring their teasing, I bought another gajra, this time for Mahira, and handed it to her with a small nod. She took it with a grateful smile, still giggling at the playful scene unfolding.
As I handed it over, I couldn't help but glance back at Aairah, whose blush had yet to fade. The moment felt lighthearted, yet there was something underneath the teasing that made it all feel a little more personal.
Zeeshan kept staring at me, his arms folded across his chest, a look of mock contemplation on his face. I raised an eyebrow in confusion, wondering what he was up to. But then, the corner of my mouth tugged into a smirk .
"Tujhe bhi chahiye ka Gajre?" I teased, unable to resist.
Zeeshan's face lit up with a sheepish grin as he quickly followed up.
"Please bhai, inko apne kuch leke diya, ab mujhe bhi chahiye kuch. At least, a few notes!" He stretched his hand out toward me with exaggerated hope, his voice dripping with mock pleading.
Please, bhai, you got something for them, now I want something too."
I swatted his hand away with a quick motion, earning a dramatic pout from him. He made a face, clearly annoyed but also amused by the whole situation.
Rolling my eyes, I started the car again, shifting gears as the light turned green. Zeeshan huffed, but his smirk never wavered.
"Areh, pehen kyun nahi rahi tu? Acha nahi kya?" Mahira asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she turned to Aairah. I glanced back at them, watching the exchange from the rearview mirror.
Hey, why aren't you wearing it? Didn't you like it?"
Aairah hesitated for a moment before replying softly, "Nai, wou aise phool wagarah kharab ho jayenge. Mein inko sambhal ke rakhungi." Her voice was shy, almost protective, as she carefully placed the gajra in her bag, making sure it was tucked safely away under the shopper.
No, those flowers and all might get ruined. I'll take care of them properly.
As she whispered her explanation, her eyes met mine in the mirror, and for a brief moment, everything around us seemed to fade.There was something so sweet about the way she handled the delicate flowers, her actions filled with tenderness and care. My heart skipped a beat, not just from the gesture, but from the warmth in her eyes as she looked at me.
Then, as if realizing she'd held my gaze a moment too long, she quickly dropped her eyes, her cheeks flushing slightly, making her even more adorable.
As we pulled into the mall, I slowed the car to a stop, the familiar buzz of activity around us. The girls were about to step out, chattering excitedly, but something caught my attention.
My eyes scanned the surroundings, and there they wereâthe paparazzi, lurking just beyond the entrance, cameras raised, waiting for a glimpse of us.
I sighed, frustration bubbling up inside me. The last thing I wanted was for us to be thrust into the spotlight again, especially with everything that had been happening lately. I quickly raised a hand, signaling the girls to hold up.
"Wait," I said, my voice low but firm. The last thing I needed was for them to get caught in the frenzy.
"Stay inside, bahir media hai, and they will cause problems," I said, my tone serious. "It's not safe, especially for Aairah and Ada." I looked at Zeeshan, signaling him to take action.
"Zeeshan, ask one of the guards to drop the girls secretly. By the time I go in front of the paparazzi, their attention will get diverted. "Zeeshan nodded, understanding the urgency in my voice. I turned to the girls, my expression softening.
"Stay here, I'll handle this," I added, trying to reassure them, though I could see the concern in Aairah's eyes.
As Zeeshan quickly made his way to speak with the security, I took a deep breath and braced myself. The last thing I wanted was to drag them into the spotlight, but sometimes, these things couldn't be avoided.
I slid on my glasses, stepping out of the car as the guards flanked me, their presence a silent shield.I buttoned black my coat as I walked, keeping my head steady, trying to ignore the flashing cameras and the barrage of questions from every direction. The media was relentless, pushing forward with every possible query they could throw at me.
"Sir, the elections are happening, do you think you will win again?"
"Sir, when is the wedding happening?"
"When are you going to introduce your wife, sir?"
"Was this marriage against your will? Is that why you haven't been seen with your better half?"
"Is she not valuable? Are you scared to show her face to the world?"
"Sir, the news is coming that your father's relations are not good with you. You denied taking support from him...
The questions came at me like a storm, each one more invasive than the last. I kept walking, trying to remain composed, but one particular question hit a nerve. The mention of my marriageâof my wifeâboiled my blood. How dare they question her, question me, like that?
My jaw tightened, the air around me suddenly thick with tension. I felt the heat rise in my chest, anger mixing with the urge to protect what was mine. How could they invade such a personal matter, turn it into some cheap story for their headlines?
I stopped for a moment, the guards instinctively stepping in front of me as a wall between me and the cameras. My voice, though calm, was laced with an edge of finality.
"That's enough," I said, my words cutting through the noise. The reporters hesitated, sensing the change in my demeanor, but I wasn't done.
"You want answers? I'll give you one. My personal life is none of your business." I paused, letting my words sink in, before continuing. "As for my marriageâleave my wife out of it. She is not your story. Understand?"
The media fell silent for a brief moment, caught off guard by the intensity of my words. I could feel the eyes of the guards on me, waiting for any sign of further confrontation.
My eyes landed at the reporter who brought questions about my wife. I shot him a deathly glare, the kind that could stop a heartbeat, but it was muffled behind the reflective shield of my glasses.
My jaw tightened, teeth grinding in a barely contained fury. My fingers curled into fists as I clenched them at my sides, the restrained energy urging me to march straight toward him and end the matter right here, right now.
"Bhai, stop it. Don't make the situation worse. Answer them calmly," Sufiyaan's voice echoed in my head, pulling me back just as my rage threatened to take over.
"Don't forget where you are right now, and elections are coming. You need to keep your image clean."
"Calmly?" I hissed, my voice a sharp edge that could cut through steel. I ran a hand through my hair in frustration, my temper brimming just beneath the surface. "Did you even hear what that bastard said about my wife?"
"I heard, bhai," Sufiyaan said, his voice steady, almost pleading. "But you need to understandâthis isn't the time or the place for this. Control it."
His words were like a tether, pulling me back just before the storm within me broke loose. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep, measured breath. Slowly, I composed myself, letting the heat drain from my body, forcing my voice into a cold, professional tone.
"First of all," I began, my words deliberate and sharp, "everything you've heard about my father is nothing more than baseless rumors. And regarding the electionsâI trust I'll continue to have the support of the people, just as I always have."
The press murmured in response, their pens scratching furiously at their notepads. But my focus wasn't on them. My gaze found the reporter again who dared to bring up my wife. His shoulders stiffened as my eyes locked onto his. I removed my glasses slowly, letting the full weight of my glare hit him. It was calculatedâsilent yet menacing. I could see the nervous twitch of his hand as his confidence crumbled under my scrutiny.
"And one more thing," I said, my voice dropping to a chilling calm.
"Meri biwi se related jo bhi sawal hain, woh apne paas hi rakhiye. That is my personal matter." My tone darkened, my words slicing through the air like a blade.
Any questions related to my wife, keep them to yourself. That is my personal matter."
"Aur agar aisi galti dobara hui... toh galti karne ka kabil nahi rahega wou ."
And if such a mistake happens again... they won't be worthy of making any more mistakes.
The room fell into an uneasy silence as the weight of my warning settled over them. I slid my glasses back onto my face, the shield returning, concealing the fire in my eyes.
With a final glance toward the reporters, Turning on my heel, I walked inside, my guards moving swiftly to clear the path ahead. Sufiyan fell into step beside me, his expression a mix of relief and wariness. He didn't say anything, but I could feel his silent approval of how I had managed to rein in my fury.
Do share your feedback how was the chapter.
Share your fave scene or dialogue from the chapter.
Follow me on Instagram for the upcoming spoilers, and Reels of the story.
please do vote and comment if you want to read next chapter.
I forget to add aesthetic of chapter so here is it-â¤ï¸â¨