Here you go with the chapter it's 6k words so you guys better vote and comment. there was issues of network here which is the reason chapter got a bit late.
No proofreading, english translation is not added yet.
Enjoy -â¨ð¥
I guided all the ladies into the mall with the guards' assistance, ensuring every step was careful and discreet. The atmosphere buzzed with a quiet tension, but we managed to blend into the ebb and flow of shoppers, unnoticed.
Hala Bhabhi, however, stood apart. She didn't need my help; in fact, her calm composure and unwavering confidence caught me off guard.
As if reading my mind, she turned to me with a quick nod and said, "Go check on the guys." Her voice was steady, almost commanding. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at how effortlessly she took control of the situation.
As we stepped inside, the ladies' eyes lit up, sparkling with delight as they took in the vibrant displays of clothes.
Their chatter grew animated, weaving a soft hum of excitement around us. I couldn't help but let my gaze wander, searching through the sea of faces for one in particular.
My heart quickened at the thought of catching a glimpse of herâmy lady. Amid the colorful chaos, her presence was the only thing I truly sought.
And then, I saw her. She was browsing through a rack of dresses, a woman standing beside herâlikely her mother, though her face was turned away.
My focus, however, was entirely on her.
She looked stunning in her green suit, the color complementing her radiant beauty. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, the loose strands framing her face perfectly.
As if sensing my gaze, she paused and turned her head, her eyes locking onto mine. For a brief moment, the world seemed to fade away.
She raised her brows, a silent question in her expression.
I nodded subtly, signaling that I was coming her way. Her lips twitched in a small, knowing smile before she turned back to the dresses, leaving my heart racing.
"I like that dress! Come, let's go try it," Mahira exclaimed, her excitement breaking through my thoughts. Her voice carried an infectious energy that instantly pulled my attention.
Before I could process, she grabbed Aairah Bhabhi's arm, practically dragging her toward the left corner where the dress was displayed.
In the commotion, she handed me Ada without a second thought. I instinctively took her into my arms, cradling her carefully as her tiny hands clutched at my shirt.
Shooting a glare at my sister, I muttered under my breath, "Seriously, Mahira?" But she was too caught up in her own enthusiasm to notice.
"Bada mamu bana phirta hai na, ab khayal rakh iska," Mahira quipped sarcastically, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing, fully aware of the chaos Ada could unleash in a place like this.
You go around acting all high and mighty, now look after her."
Ada, always thrilled by the sight of a bustling shopping mall, had a knack for turning any outing into a chase. Her boundless excitement often left people scrambling to keep up with her tiny, determined feet. Mahira's grin widened as she handed her over, clearly enjoying my predicament.
"Shadi shayad meri ho rahi hai idhar, so qaide se mujhe shopping karni chahiye," I mocked, raising a brow at Mahira. She responded with an exaggerated eye roll, clearly unimpressed.
Perhaps I am getting married here, so technically, I should be shopping."
"Dulhe ko koi nahi dekhta," she shot back with a shrug, her tone laced with casual indifference. "Humhe hi sab dekhnege. Aur tere liye Mumma le lengi, theek hai?" Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked off, dragging Aairah Bhabhi along.
No one looks at the groom, every one will look at us only, and mom will do shopping for you"
Aairah Bhabhi, however, didn't seem as invested in the shopping. Her eyes kept darting toward the door, a subtle restlessness betraying her thoughts. It wasn't hard to guessâshe was waiting for her dear husband to show up.
"Hala, chalo hum us side chalte hain," my mother said, gesturing toward the right side of the store. Hala nodded, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she didn't question it. The two of them turned and walked off, leaving me to sigh in mild exasperation.
Come let us go that side
As I glanced around, my eyes landed on Dado, who was still standing beside me. She hadn't moved either, her calm presence now my responsibility. It seemed like everyone had scattered in their own directions, leaving me to juggle everything in between.
"Mamu, I want that doll! Letsh go!" Ada chirped, tapping my cheek with her tiny hand and bouncing in my arms, her legs shaking excitedly. Her bright eyes sparkled with determination, leaving no room for negotiation.
I suppressed a groan, glancing at the direction she pointed to. All I wanted in that moment was some peace, but clearly, that wasn't an option.
A part of me wanted to bang my head against the nearest wallâespecially since I knew Noor must be waiting for me as well. Yet here I was, on doll duty, caught between two worlds.
Kidhar phas gaya hoon main.
Where have I gotten myself stuck?
I spotted Sufiyaan Bhai and Hayaan Bhai walking toward us. A smirk tugged at my lips as I seized the opportunity, swiftly handing Ada over to Sufiyaan Bhai. He frowned at me, clearly unimpressed, but soon softened into a smile as he adjusted her in his arms.
Ada, however, had no time for pleasantries. She immediately started cribbing about the doll she had her eyes on. With a resigned sigh, Sufiyaan Bhai nodded and began walking toward the toy section.
"Bhai, mujhe bhi toh shopping karni hai, tou mein ja raha hoon. Aap Dadi ke paas rehna," I said to Hayaan Bhai, catching his attention.
"Bro, I need to do some shopping too, so I'm going. You stay with Dadi."
Before he could even respond, I turned on my heel and dashed off, leaving him standing there, likely still processing what had just happened.
I watched Noor walking inside the changing room with a dress in her hand, I moved towards her but Mahira caught me, she proceeded to me, raised her brows.
"Tum yahan kya karahe ho? Anyway Aairah needs help with her dress so go call mom or Hala, I could have done it but Ada is crying giving hard time to sufiyaan handling her so I'm going to her" She asked first but then ordered me I sighed in irritation.
What are you doing here?
I turn my heel and walked back spotted Hayaan bhai talking over the phone, I smirked and walked towards bhai tapping his shoulders, He turned around with phone resting on his ear.
"I will get back at you" He said to someone on the phone in a business tone, I rolled my eyes at him.
"It's better be important as you have disturbed me" He scolded me I made a bad face.
"Areh bhai Bhabhi ka kaam hai apko bula rahi hai unko help chahiye dress se kuch"Â I told him as he windend his eyes shock plastered on his face, I was confused by his reaction.
Hey bro, Bhabhi needs something, she's calling you. She needs help with her dress or something."
"Unhon ne Sach mein mujhe he bulaya hai?" He questioned scratching his temple, face formed in shock.
"Did she really call me?"
"Bhai apki he biwi hai tou isme heerani ki Kya baat hai, Jayen app mujhe bhii kaam hai" I told him and left from there to do my work.
"Bro, she's your wife, so what's there to be surprised about? Go, I have stuff to do too."
I saw Noor entered inside the room and I quickly and entered inside hiding, before she could change, she was about to screams, I palmed her mouth her back hit with the door.
As we stood closer I could feel her racing heart beat, my warm breath touching her face, my heart skipped a beat looking at her hazel eyes.
"Pagal hogaye tum yahan Kya karahe ho koi dekh leta tou" She exclaimed widening her eyes and swatting my hand away and glared at me, I chuckled softly at her and move back a bit.
Have you gone mad? What are you doing here? What if someone saw you?"
"Han hogya hoon tumhare piyaar mein pagal noorie or apni dulhan se milne aya hoon janeman " I flirted with her, she narrowed her eyes at me, I was confused with my behavior around her I don't think it's an act.
"Yes, I've gone crazy in your love, Noorie, and I've come to meet my bride, my sweetheart."
"Zeeshan agar mein change karahi hoti tou? You can just come inside into a girl room like this" She chided me folding her arms around her body, I sighed and noticed her hand bruised, I lift my hand to held her hand.
Zeeshan, what if I were changing? You can't just walk into a girl's room like this."
I got concerned at looked at her panic appeared on her face, she tired to remove her hand from my grasp but it didn't let it go.
"Yeh kaise hua" I questioned her with a straight face, she fiddled with her fingers anxiously.
How did this happened?
"My hand got hit with a door that's it" She replied avoiding eye contact, took her hand back and I was sure she was lying, I fumed in anger.
"Fine you don't want to tell me, i'll go ask you mother then, and trust me I will make sure she will tell the truth" I warned her rolling the sleeves of my hands, my eyes sharp staring at her.
"No wait I will tell you" She exclaimed enlarging her eyes and holding my arm, to stop me as I was about the leave, I looked at her and waited for her answer.
"Actually Jis se meri Shadi hone hai, we got in a little argument, so he just held my wrist with force that's it" She answered and looked at me but I was still furious, even more angry how dare that bastard even touch her.
"Did he try to force himself on you or try to misbehave with you?" I asked her sternly fist my hand, my jaws tightened, She was surprised to look at me. I felt her getting intimidated by me.
Because she had never seen me like this before, so maybe she got a little surprised.
"Yes he did but it was long back" she whispered and I could feel anger growing inside me, I took a breath and hit my knuckles on the wall beside her head, my eyes bloodshot red she gasp palming her mouth.
"Why didn't you tell me haan? I will end his chapter today that bloody-
"Zeeshan can you please cool down, or paglon wali baat mat karo, itni se baat pe Marne ki baar karahe ho " Her soft voice hit my ear, she placed her hand on my cheek attempt to calm my anger.
"Zeeshan, can you please cool down, and stop talking nonsense? You're making a big deal over such a small thing, thinking to kill him over nothing."
"Yeh itni si baat hai? Usne haramzade ne tumhe haath bhi kaise lagaya mein usay maarne wala hoon rok ke dikhao mujhe" I said her in a cold tone, i was burning with fire I have never felt this angry before, and she is the main reason of my this side.
Is that a small thing? That bastard touched you, I am going to beat him up try stopping me.
The shopping mall pulsed with life, the chatter of shoppers blending with the rhythmic hum of distant music. My niece's tiny hand clung to mine as we strolled past glowing storefronts. Her eyes sparkled, darting from one window to the next.
She stopped abruptly, transfixed by a shelf of candy boxes, their shiny wrappers catching the light. I smiled to myself, amused by her ever-changing interests.
But the moment didn't last. She tugged at my hand, pointing to a pink teddy bear in the display. I bent down, asking.
"Yeh pasand aya baby?" Her pout said otherwise. Before I could figure out why, her little face crumpled, and an ear-piercing cry escaped her lips.
Do you like it baby?
"Here we go," I muttered under my breath as heads turned in our direction. Some shoppers glanced over with knowing smiles, while others simply frowned. I crouched beside her, trying to soothe her.
"Shh, Ada kya hogya baby," I asked softly, cupping her face, then waving my hand in front of her face like a bird. "Look! A butterfly."
Shhh What happened baby?
She didn't even blink. Her wails grew louder, each one bouncing off the mall's high ceilings like an alarm. Heat crept up my neck as more people stared.
I wished I could disappear into the nearest store. Then, just as I was about to try a different distraction, she froze.
Her cries cut off mid-sob. Her hand tightened around mine, fingers trembling. "What is it?" I asked, glancing down at her wide, tear-filled eyes. She wasn't looking at me anymore. She was staring straight ahead, her small body trembling like a leaf.
I followed her gaze and spotted itâa mannequin towering at the entrance of a store. It was draped in a long, dark robe, its face covered by a grotesque mask with a wicked, frozen grin.
I felt a flicker of unease myself but quickly shook it off. "It's just a mannequin," I murmured, picking her up to shield her from the sight.
She clung to me like her life depended on it, burying her face in my chest. Her sobs returned, more frantic now, her little fists gripping my shirt so tightly I could feel her desperation.
"It's okay," I whispered, bouncing her gently. "It's not real. See? It can't hurt you." It didn't work. She just cried harder, her sobs slicing through me. My nerves were fraying.
How could something so innocent-looking moments ago turn into such a mess of fear and tears?
Then I heard Mahira's voice cutting through the noise.
"What happened?" she asked, her eyes scanning us before landing on my niece.
"She saw... that," I said, nodding toward the mannequin. I passed the trembling child into her mother's arms, relieved to share the responsibility.
Her mother hummed softly, swaying with her, and my niece's cries began to fade. I stood there, rubbing the back of my neck, a mix of guilt and exhaustion settling over me.
I was halfway through browsing my phone when my mother appeared, her voice sharp with purpose. "Go help your wife," she said, handing me a few dresses, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Help her with what?" I glanced up, confused.
"Areh wou kapre try karahi hai, so stand there and help her mujhe Maa ka bhi khayal rakhna hai" She ordered me, IÂ blinked at her, incredulous.
"Oh, she's trying on clothes, so stand there and help her. I also have to take care of Mom."
"Ammi, kya mein dukaan daar lagta hoon jo kapron khareed kar dun? Mujhe apni shopping karni hai!" I tried reasoning with her, though I already knew it was pointless.
"Mom, do I look like a shopkeeper to you, that I should buy clothes? I need to do my own shopping!"
Her eyes narrowed, and that was it. The argument was over before it began. "jao."
Go.
I sighed, grumbling under my breath as I dragged my feet toward the fitting rooms.
Leaning against the wall outside, I folded my arms and stared down at the gleaming floor tiles. They were spotless, reflecting the harsh overhead lights, and somehow, they only made me feel more irritable.
The muffled buzz of the store carried on around meâvoices, footsteps, the occasional announcement over the speakers.
None of it distracted me from the minutes dragging by. What was taking so long? I shifted my weight, annoyed, wishing I had ducked into another aisle before Ammi had found me.
The faint creak of a door jolted me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see my wife peeking out, looking around.
"Tum yahan tunhari mom kidhar gayi?" She asked, raising her brows.
You here? Where is you mother?
"wou bhii tumhe bardasht nai karpayen chali gayi" I mocked her and she glared at me murmuring "Shut up"
"She couldn't tolerate you either, so she left."
"What's wrong?" I questioned her expression nervous, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Sufiyan I need your help." she said
"What help?" I frowned, straightening my self.
She glanced over her shoulder, then back at me. Her voice dropped even lower.
"Meri dress phat gayii hai" For a second, I just stared at her, trying to make sense of the situation.
"My dress has torn."
"Tou mein kya darzi dikhayi deraha hoon, dress phat gaya hai tou nikal ke phenk do" I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Am I showing myself as a tailor? If the dress is torn, just take it off and throw it away."
"And I didn't ask you to be one," she snapped, her patience fraying. "Just... help me, I need your help"
I sighed again, this one heavier. There was no arguing now. The way she looked at meâit wasn't a request; it was an expectation.
I glanced around, and before i could realise, she held my wrist and pulled me inside the tiny fitting room, making me shocked.
"kya karahi ho tum aise kaise khech sakti ho mujhe andar, areh time toh deti mujhe" I snapped at her, my face flushed.
"What are you doing? How can you pull me inside like this? You should have given me some time!"
"Shohar ho mere itna kya sharma rahe ho" She mocked me, I raised my brows surprised.
"You're my husband, why are you so shy?"
"badi jaldi yaad agaya ke mein tumhara shohar hun" I taunted her forcing a smile, She glared at me.
"Oh, now you remember quickly that I'm your husband."
"Muh band karo or meri help karo, this zip is stuck, I can't take off the dress" She said turning around leaving no room for argument.
"Shut up and help me, this zip is stuck, I can't take off the dress."
The air inside felt warmer, heavier, carrying the faint, familiar scent of her perfume. She stood with her back to me, clutching the fabric where it had torn, and her zipper was stuck, that's why she
was unable to remove ir the tension in the cramped space making me shift uncomfortably.
I hesitated, my hands hovering awkwardly at my sides. "Okay," I said finally, my voice quieter now. "What do I do?"
The tiny changing room felt impossibly small, His gaze followed her as she twisted and turned, trying to fix the zipper on her dress. It had caught halfway down her back, and every tug only made her more frustrated.
I stepped closer, my fingers brushing hers as I took hold of the fabric. It felt smooth under my touch, but my movements were clumsy, careful not to make things worse. For a moment, the awkwardness between us hung heavy, but then, strangely, it began to ease.
Her skin was warm beneath my touch as my hands settled gently on her shoulders, the softness of her bare back sending a jolt of heat through me.
I could feel the slight tremor in her muscles as she stood still, her breath shallow, rising and falling in time with the tension thickening between us
I focused on the stubborn zipper, but it was damn hard to concentrate with her so close.
My fingers brushed her skin as I worked the fabric free, the warmth beneath my fingertips sending a surge of heat through me.
The zipper refused to budge, stubborn in its resistance. I tried again, my breath catching as I leaned in a little closer.
"Hold still," I murmured, my voice dipping lower, quieter, as I felt the heat of her neck beneath my breath.
I couldn't ignore the faint shiver that ran through her, the way her eyes flickered to mine in the mirror. The connection between us, that magnetic pull, intensified in the silence.
Her gaze locked with mine, intense, unspoken, and there was something electric in it. A challenge, yes, but also something else, something vulnerable I hadn't expected.
She didn't pull away. It was as if the space between us was shrinking, and I swore I could feel the tension in the air thickening.
The air in the room felt suffocating, as if there was too much between us to breathe easily. The tension hung heavy in the space, thick like the calm before a storm.
As I leaned in, my face inches from hers, I grasped the zipper with my teeth, tugging gently as it stubbornly refused to budge. My warm breath danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine.
She gasped, her body tensing, as my actions sent a spark of electricity through the air. I noticed her fingers curling into a fist, her breathing growing ragged, as if she was struggling to contain her emotions.
My gaze drifted up, locking onto hers, and I saw the faintest flush rise to her cheeks. Her eyes seemed to darken, the pupils dilating, as she gazed back at me.
The tension between us crackled, like the promise of a storm about to break. I could feel the heat emanating from her skin, drawing me in, making my own breath catch in my throat.
Finally, the zipper gave way with a soft click. I didn't pull my hands away immediately. Instead, I kept them resting on her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin under my palms, reluctant to break the moment.
She turned slightly, and for a heartbeat, I caught the unreadable look in her eyesâsomething shadowed, something I couldn't quite place. But then, as if she had made a decision, she met my gaze in the mirror.
And that familiar challenge sparked in her eyes, the same one she always gave me when things shifted, when the air between us thickened into something more than just attraction.
My heart stuttered. That lookâshe always had that power over me. It was a dare, a pull, a promise.
"Thanks," she said quietly, her voice thick with something I couldn't put into words. Her cheeks were flushed, that deep pink I couldn't ignore.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the movement almost too automatic. I noticed her fingers trembling slightly, betraying the calm she tried to project.
I felt my pulse race as I watched her, sensing the vulnerability she was hiding. It made the pull between us even stronger, more undeniable.
The space between us felt too small, too intimate, and I wasn't sure I wanted to step away.
She flicked her gaze back to the mirror, then quickly dropped her eyes to the floor, avoiding mine. But I saw itâthe way her chest rose and fell, the slight tension in her jaw, the way she wasn't moving, wasn't stepping back, wasn't pulling away.
"Next time please carry a safety pin or be careful, aise apne kapre mat pahrwati rehna, har bar mein help karne ke liye samne nai honga" My tone was playful, my lips curling into a half-smile as I leaned back, the weight of the moment easing just a bit.
"Don't keep wearing clothes like this, I won't always be here to help you every time."
The teasing words felt like a breath of fresh air, breaking the tension that had been building between us. I could see her shoulders relax, her gaze flickering to me with a mix of amusement.
"You're impossible," she muttered, but the usual bite was gone, replaced by something softer, more uncertain.
"And yet," I said, leaning in just a little closer, letting my breath skim across her ear. "You didn't stop me."
Her cheeks flushed even deeper, and before I could process it, she turned swiftly, forcing me to step back.
The sudden movement caught me off guard, but my eyes never left her. I watched as she distanced herself, the tension still simmering between us, thick and undeniable.
The world outside the small changing room might as well have ceased to exist. All I could focus on was the way her body had responded to me, the way the air between us had shifted. She wasn't ready to break the tension, not yet. And neither was I.
I hesitated outside the door, my knuckles brushing against the wood as I tapped out a gentle knock.
"Aairah, Kya mein andar ajaun?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with a hint of uncertainty. The silence that followed was deafening, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was avoiding me.
"Aairah, should I come inside?"
A pang of disappointment shot through my chest, and I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I turned to leave, but then, the soft creak of the door opening stopped my departure.
"Hayaan ap andar asakte hain" I heard her whisper, her voice like a gentle breeze on a summer's day. My heart skipped a beat as I turned back, my nerves suddenly on high alert.
Hayaan you can come inside.
As I entered the changing room, and stared at her decked in black saree, a short blouse showing her skin.
Meri saans tham gayi thi unko dekh kar, ya shayad mein saans lena bhool gaya tha, ko behed haseen lagrahi thii, duniya ki sabse khoobsoorat larki.
Ya shayad meri nazar mein unse ziada khoobsoorat koi hai he nai, she is perfect.
"My breath had stopped when I saw her, or maybe I had forgotten how to breathe. She looked so incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the world.
Or maybe, in my eyes, there's no one more beautiful than her, she is perfect."
"Hayaan" She whispered my name, her voice soft as a breath of wind. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from her, though it felt as if my eyes were magnetized.
A flush of crimson spread across her cheeks, blooming like a shy flower under the sun. She fidgeted with her saree, its folds slipping as she struggled to tuck them back into place, her movements hurried yet graceful. Her hair, tied in a loose, messy bun, framed her face with stray strands that danced with the light.
"Erm... aapko help chahiye thi, Zeeshan ne kaha?" I asked, my voice tentative as I rubbed the back of my neck. Her brows knitted into a frown, the expression sharp enough to pierce through my confidence, leaving me riddled with doubt.
Zeeshan said you need my help"
"Mujhe Mahira se help chahiye thi, butâ" she began, her words faltering midway. She raised her brows and bit her lip nervously, the hesitation written all over her face.
I wanted help from Mahira but-
In that moment, I understoodâshe didn't want my help. Her discomfort around me was unmistakable, and it stung deeper than I expected. A sharp pang of guilt settled in my chest.
I felt badâof course I didâbut how could I blame her? After all, it was me who had pushed her away in the first place.
"Alright, I'll call someone else. Relax," I said politely, turning to leave. But just as I took a step, I felt her gentle hand wrap around my wrist, halting me in place. The unexpected touch made me pause, a flicker of surprise rippling through me.
"Hayaan, aap bhi meri madad kar sakte hain," she said, her eyes meeting mine with a softness that caught me off guard. Her shy smile had an instant calming effect, easing the tension I hadn't even realized I was holding.
Hayaan you can help me too.
"Kya karna hai mujhe?" I asked, leaning in slightly. She inhaled deeply before turning around slowly, her back now facing me.
What I have to do.
I froze for a moment, a sharp breath escaping me as I noticed her blouseâit was backless, revealing the soft expanse of her skin. Something about it didn't sit well with me, stirring a protective unease.
But if she was comfortable, I had no right to say anything. Still, the thought of anyone else gawking at her made my blood simmer with a quiet, dangerous resolve.
"Mera hook khol denge?" she asked in a low voice, her eyes meeting mine through the mirror. Her tone was hesitant, almost shy, yet unwavering. I stood there for a moment, caught off guard, before unclenching my fist and slowly reaching out to touch her.
"Will you undo my hook?"
"Aairah, kya mujhe ijazat hai aapko chhune ki?" I asked softly, seeking her consent before making a move. She lifted her eyelashes, her gaze meeting mine. Her eyes sparkled like quiet stars, and a gentle smile curved on her lips, filling the air with an unspoken answer.
Aairah do I have permission to touch you.
"Aapko poora haq hai, aur aapko har dafa poochne ki zaroorat nahi, Hayaan," she replied softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made my heart flutter.
"You have every right, and you don't need to ask every time, Hayaan."
The way she said my name sent a shiver through me.
Unable to resist, I leaned closer until her back brushed against my chest. She trembled slightly, and our eyes locked in the mirror, an intense gaze that seemed to hold the world still around us.
I lifted my hands, and the moment my fingers brushed against her bare skin, she gasped softly, her eyes fluttering shut. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the effect of my mere touch undeniable.
Her scentâdelicate and intoxicatingâenveloped my senses, making it impossible to think clearly. My heart pounded erratically, and I was certain hers was racing just as fast.
I gently grasped the blouse and unhooked the clasp of her dress. As my knuckles brushed against her soft skin, I could feel the warmth spreading to her cheeks, the subtle flush evident. A warmth settled in my chest, a quiet, intense feeling I couldn't quite place.
I didn't pull away, instead, I slowly lifted my hand, my gaze never leaving her face in the mirror. I untangled the strands of her hair, loosening the knot until it cascaded down like a waterfall, flowing over her back.
She opened her eyes, her lips parting slightly as she met my gaze, her expression a mixture of surprise and something deeper.
I bent my head down, gently lifting her hair in my hand, inhaling the scent of her tresses. A sense of peace washed over me, consuming me entirely. I moved closer, my head resting near her neck, nestled in the softness of her hair. I could feel her breath hitch, the tension in the air palpable between us.
As she slowly turned around, my arms remained wrapped around her, my hands resting on her bare waist. The gentle touch sent shivers down my spine.
She placed her hand on my chest, her palm pressing against my heart, which raced with excitement. I could feel my heartbeat pulsating against her hand, as if trying to communicate a secret message.
A soft smile spread across her face, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, like rose petals unfolding in the sun. I was taken aback by her gentle yet bold move, my surprise mirrored in my wide eyes.
"Aap itna kyun muskarahi hain, Begum?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. It wasn't that I minded, but the sudden smile on her face left me wondering what was going on inside her.
"Why are you smiling so much, Begum?"
"Hayaan, humare dil ki dharkan ek hi sync mein dhadak rahi hai," she replied, her eyes twinkling with an unspoken understanding. She gently took my hand, the one resting on her bare waist, and guided it to her chest, pressing it against her heart.
"Hayaan, our hearts are beating in sync."
I could feel the rhythm of her heart beating in sync with mine, a melody that echoed softly between us. Slowly, I bent down, resting my forehead gently against hers.
She tensed, surprised by the closeness, but I held her gaze, my eyes locked with hers. She met my stare, the quiet intensity between us speaking volumes without a single word.
We both stared at each other, our hands resting over each other's hearts, listening to the synchronized rhythm of our beats. The steady pulse between us felt like a soothing melody, calming and connecting us in a way words never could.
"Aapko yeh saree mujh pe kaisi lagi?" she asked, breaking the silence. I lifted my head and leaned back, my eyes slowly traveling from the floor up, taking in every detail of her. She was nothing short of breathtaking.
"How does this saree look on me?"
"Aap par sab kuch acha lagta hai, aur yeh saree, main bhi, aap behad haseen lag rahi hain," I whispered, my knuckles grazing her cheek. She shivered at the touch, a blush creeping up her face, and it made me smile.
"Everything looks good on you, and in this saree, too you look absolutely stunning."
She lowered her head, her fingers nervously playing with the buttons of my shirt, the tension between us thickening with every passing second.
"Aap uncomfortable hain is dress mein?" I asked, noticing how she was trying to adjust her blouse, pulling it down over her stomach. At the sound of my voice, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Are you uncomfortable in this dress?"
"Par agar aapko yeh dress achi lagi, tou mein pehen lungi," she replied quickly. I frowned, stepping closer, and gently lifted her chin, tilting her face upward. She met my eyes, surprise flickering across her features.
""But if you like this dress, then I'll wear it."
"Chahe mujhe pasand ho ya na ho, aapko apne comfort ko sab se zyada ahmiyat deni chahiye," I told her, my tone serious and firm. "Woh mujhe zyada acha lagega, Aairah. Samjhi app?" She nodded quietly, and before I could say anything more, my phone rang, breaking the moment.
"Whether I like it or not, you should always prioritize your comfort," . "That will mean more to me, Aairah. Do you understand?"
"Mein bahar aapka intezaar kar raha hoon, change karke aa jaiye," I said, pulling out my phone and stepping outside. I pressed it to my ear, before answering the call.
"I'll be waiting for you outside, please go ahead and change."
As I stepped out of the changing room, a smile tugged at my lips. Those moments with Hayaan would always remain special to me.
He had been so close, the way he held meâit felt almost surreal. My heart raced, lodged somewhere in my throat. I turned my head to the right, glancing at him as he spoke on the phone, but his gaze remained fixed on me, unspoken words lingering in the air between us.
"I don't like these dresses, thank you," I said, handing them back to the seller. The dresses revealed too much of my skin, and I wasn't comfortable with that.
"But, ma'am, these would look perfect on you," the seller insisted, placing a red saree in front of me.
"It's the latest collection, and the most expensive one."The saree was undeniably gorgeous, its fabric rich and luxurious. But when I saw the priceâ30 lakhsâit made my eyes widen.
It wasn't about the money; I simply couldn't bring myself to wear something like this.
"No, thank you. These aren't for me, and they're a bit too expensive," I replied, my voice steady despite the discomfort.
The seller's attitude shifted immediately. "Agar aise hai madam, tou aise shops pe aate kyun ho? Pehle toh mehngi sariyaan try karke humara waqt zaya kiya, phir keemat jaane ke baad mana kardiya. Agar affordable nahi hai, tou aate kyun ho mehngi dukano mein?"
I was taken aback by the insult, my eyes widening in shock. Anger surged through me as I clenched my fist, but before I could respond, I felt Hayaan's presence beside me.
"How bloody dare you talk to my wife in that tone?" Hayaan roared, his voice sharp and full of fury. I flinched at the force of his words.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the seller by the neck, pushing him back so forcefully that he crashed against the wall behind him. Hayaan's eyes were dark with rage, his jaw clenched tightly.
I pressed my lips together, my eyes wide with disbelief at the intensity of his reaction.
The sound of Hayaan's shout drew everyone's attention, and soon, our family, along with a few people from the crowd, gathered around us. The mall seemed nearly empty, likely because Hayaan had booked it exclusively.
I stood there, stunned, witnessing him in a way I had only ever heard about. His anger was a force I hadn't seen firsthand until now. With one swift motion, he shoved the seller to the floor.
"Janta bhi hai woh kaun hai? Pura mall khareed sakta hai woh! Is sheher ke sabse bade khandan ki izzat hai wou! Hayaan Aairah Sikandar hai woh!" He screamed, gripping the man's collar so tightly I thought it might snap.
"Do you even know who she is? She could buy the entire mall! She is from the most prestigious family in this city!, she is Hayaan Aairah Sikandar!"
His words hit me in a way I didn't expect, a mixture of awe and disbelief. But it was his fury that truly took me by surpriseâhis entire face flushed red, his eyes burning with rage.
"Say sorry to her," he demanded coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I opened my mouth, intending to say something, but the look he gave me silenced me instantly. It was a challengeâone I couldn't deny. Feeling a strange mix of intimidation and helplessness, I swallowed my words, standing silently as the tension hung in the air.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I wasn't aware you were the CM's wife. Please forgive me," the seller stammered, his hands pressed together in apology. He even attempted to touch my feet, but I instinctively moved back, shaking my head.
"Where the hell is your manager? Call him here!" Hayaan roared, a vein bulging on his forehead. His hand ran through his hair in frustration, and for a moment.
I couldn't help but notice how undeniably attractive he looked, even in his anger.
Ya Allah, yeh mein kya bol rahi hoon is waqt?
"Hayaan, please stop. He's apologized, let it go now," I pleaded, stepping forward to grab his arm. He was pacing back and forth, his temper flaring higher with every step, and it made me anxious.
I could see his anger wasn't calming, and I worried about what might happen next.
"No, he has to pay for his mistakes, and you can't stop me. This is about every woman's respect," Hayaan's voice was icy, his gaze never leaving the seller, who was now trembling and begging for mercy.
"Zeeshan, jao na, apne bhai ko roko. Khade khade popcorn kya kar rahe ho?" I scolded him, noticing how he seemed to be enjoying the drama.
"Zeeshan, go, stop your brother. What are you doing, standing there eating popcorn?"
The others stood quietly, fully aware of Hayaan's volatile temperâeveryone except me.
"Bhabhi, jalti aag mein kaun haath daale? Mujhe tou bhai se bohat dar lagta hai, mein tou nahi jaa raha," Zeeshan exclaimed, shaking his head in mock fear. I sighed in exasperation.
"Bhabhi, who would put their hand in a burning fire? I'm really scared of brother, I'm not going."
"Fire him. He doesn't deserve to be here. If you won't, I'll make sure you never work anywhere else. Understood?" Hayaan warned the manager, his tone cold and final.
The manager, clearly intimidated, quickly nodded and muttered, "Jaisa aap ka hukm, CM sahab."
"As you command, CM Sahab."
"Pack everything my wife has touched or even looked at," he ordered, his voice sharp. I widened my eyes in surprise at the intensity of his demand.
"Hayaan, uski zaroorat nahi hai. Inme se adhe tou mein sabke samne pehen bhi nahi sakungi," I whispered, trying to soften the moment. He turned his head, locking eyes with me, and said something that completely shocked me.
"Hayaan, there's no need for that. Half of these, I wouldn't even be able to wear in front of everyone."
"MERE SAMNE PEHEN LIJIYE GA!" Hayaan's voice was firm, and Zeeshan whistled in response. Mahira glanced at me teasingly, and I was left utterly baffled. My cheeks flushed a deep red, caught off guard by their playful attention.
"Wear it in front of me!"
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