Here you go with the chapter it's almost 7k words so you guys better vote and comment. I was not well which is the reason chapter got a bit late.
No proofreading, english translation is not added yet.
Enjoy -â¨ð¥
The house buzzed with frantic energy as workers scurried from corner to corner, draping colorful lights and adjusting flower garlands that hung in perfect symmetry.
The faint scent of marigolds mingled with the crisp winter air, creating an atmosphere of festivity and tradition.
Ladders clattered against walls, and voices called out instructions as everyone hurried to complete the preparations before the guests began to arrive.
It was Zeeshan's Mehendi ceremonyâa joyous occasion, though he seemed anything but joyful.
Upstairs in his room, Zeeshan sat listlessly on a stool, staring at his reflection.
His outfit, a rich emerald-green sherwani embroidered with golden patterns, lay neatly on the bed, waiting for him to put it on.
Persuading him to even prepare for the event had been an uphill battle; he had shrugged off every suggestion, complaining about the noise, the crowd, and the inevitable small talk with distant relatives.
"Come on, Zeeshan," I urged, pulling the curtain aside to let the glow of the evening's first lights spill into the room.
"Bhabhi I already said that I wanted this to be a small event yeh sab karne ki Kya zaroorat thii, or adhe relatives ko tou mein janta bhi nai " He cribbed with a bad face, trying to sleep back I rolled my eyes.
"It's your Mehendi! At least try to look excited."
With a resigned sigh, he finally stood up, dragging his feet toward the sherwani. The sound of laughter and the distant hum of music wafted through the window, signaling the start of the celebrations downstairs. Yet, here he was, still reluctant, while the rest of the world seemed determined to make this day perfect.
I headed downstairs to continue with the preparations, my mind still lingering on Hayaan. My dear, ever-dedicated Hayaan, had been in a robotic mode since last night.
After a long conversation with his father, he had thrown himself into work with a single-minded determination, leaving no room for anythingâor anyoneâelse.
It hurt a little that he hadn't even spared me a glance, his eyes always fixed on his phone or the files scattered across the study table. The distance stung, a quiet ache settling in my chest. Yet, despite his whirlwind of responsibilities, he hadn't forgotten his promise.
This morning, he paused just long enough to pray with me, his voice steady as we stood side by side. It was a fleeting moment of connection, but it meant the world to me.
As soon as the prayer ended, he was gone again, immersed in his duties. I couldn't blame him, though. The elections were looming, and the weight of it all seemed to press down on his shoulders. He carried it with a quiet grace, but I could see how much it consumed him.
I busied myself in the kitchen, overseeing the final touches on the arrangements. The aroma of spices and simmering milk filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the stove.
Hayaan had been out the entire day, and though I tried to focus on my tasks, I couldn't shake the hollow ache of missing him.
Slowly, we were trying to mend the delicate threads of our relationship, but the process was as fragile as glass.
My thoughts wandered back to the mall, to the shocking words Hayaan had casually let slip. The memory still sent a jolt through me, not just because of what he said but because of how everyone latched onto it, teasing me endlessly.
Their knowing smiles and playful remarks had followed me ever since, and I couldn't escape the embarrassment. That's why I found refuge here in the kitchen, away from the prying eyes and mischievous grins.
I poured all my attention into preparing gajar ka halwa, the vibrant orange carrots bubbling in ghee and sugar. The rich, nutty fragrance filled the space, promising comfort and sweetness. Soon, the relatives would arrive, their chatter and laughter spilling into the house.
The halwa had to be just perfect, not only for them but as my small contribution to the family's happiness.
"Aairah"
"Hayaan"
As I stirred the gajar ka halwa one last time, I heard his voice at the door of the kitchen. Startled, I turned my head to find Hayaan standing there. He was dressed casually in jeans and a turtleneck sweaterâa look I had never seen him wear before.
For a moment, I was caught off guard. He looked effortlessly handsome, as always, the simple attire only accentuating his charm.
He raised an eyebrow at me, his expression questioning, and I quickly averted my gaze, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment. My cheeks warmed as I busied myself with adjusting my dupatta on my shoulder.
"Ap kitchen mein kya karahe hai?" I managed to ask, my voice softer than intended.
I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, trying to regain some composure. My hair was tied in a haphazard half-bun, with wisps falling messily over my face.
Glancing at my reflection in the glass of the oven, I realized how unkempt I lookedâflour smudged on my sleeve and a light sheen of sweat glistening on my forehead. In contrast to his poised appearance, I felt utterly disheveled.
"Mein apko dhoond raha tha, tou Mama ne bataya ki aap yahan hain," he said, his voice calm as he walked toward me with deliberate, measured steps.
His gaze lingered on me, and I felt my heart quicken, each beat loud and insistent.
There was something in his eyesâan intensity that left me feeling both shy and strangely content. A warmth bloomed within me, the kind of quiet satisfaction that comes from being noticed by someone who once overlooked you.
"Apko kuch chaiye tha kya?" I asked softly, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity. My tone betrayed none of the storm swirling inside me.
But before he could respond, I turned back to the stove, pretending to be absorbed in my work. The halwa demanded attention; I stirred it carefully, ensuring it didn't burn.
The rich, caramelized scent of ghee and sugar rose in the air, but even that couldn't distract me from the weight of his presence behind me.
"Aap," he whispered softly, his voice so close it sent shivers down my spine. I gasped as I felt his chest lightly brush against my back, the warmth of his breath grazing my ear. My heart raced, the proximity overwhelming.
Instinctively, I began to turn to look at him, but his hand gently rested on my waist, stopping me mid-motion.
"Don't turn, warna aap ka halwa jal jayega," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending another wave of heat coursing through me.
Before I could respond, his hand slid over mine, guiding it as he placed it firmly on the wooden spoon. I froze at the sudden intimacy, the feeling of his fingers over mine making my thoughts scatter. Slowly, he moved our hands together, stirring the dish in perfect rhythm.
I was too stunned to speak, too captivated to resist. Gathering my courage, I tilted my head slightly to glance at him. His eyes, steady and intent, met mine, and for a moment, the kitchen faded awayâthe halwa, the chaos, the teasing relatives.
It was just us, standing there in a moment I hadn't imagined could ever exist.
"Apko mujhse koi kaam tha?" I asked, confusion lacing my tone. Why would he need me? Hayaan frowned slightly, as if my question amused him.
"Airah, kya mein apko sirf kaam ke liye dhoond sakta hoon? Mujhe meri khoobsurat begum dekhne ka dil kar raha tha," he said, his voice warm yet teasing.
I raised my brows, stunned by his words, before a soft chuckle escaped my lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched my reaction.
"Ap mujhse flirt kar rahe hain, Hayaan?" I asked, unable to keep the surpriseâor the heatâfrom coloring my cheeks. The rush of blood made my skin warm, and I inwardly scolded myself for being so transparent.
"Agar kar raha hoon tou, kya mujhe ijazat nahi?" he countered smoothly, his voice dropping a notch.
Before I could reply, he lifted his free hand to my face, his fingers grazing my cheek with a touch so gentle it sent a shiver down my spine.
I closed my eyes instinctively, savoring the contrast between his cool fingers and my warm skin. My heart pounded in my chest, its rhythm erratic and loud in the silence between us.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, only to find his gaze already locked onto mine. His deep black eyes held an intensity that made me forget how to breathe.
His thumb brushed my cheek, his touch deliberate and lingering. Then, to my utter shock, he rubbed his thumb lightly against the corner of my lips.
A sudden jolt shot through me, and I looked at him with wide, startled eyes.
"Umm... yahan pe kuch laga tha," he murmured, his voice soft as he removed his hand, his expression unreadable.
"Apko batane ki zarurat nahi thi. Ap mere shohar hainâmujhe touch kar sakte hain," I said softly, my words bold enough to make him pause.
He looked at me, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck, his ears tinged a deep shade of red. I bit my lip, trying to stifle a smile, but I couldn't help itâhe looked so adorably flustered.
"Ap yeh batayein, kaisa hai?" I asked, excitement bubbling in my voice as I scooped a little halwa onto a spoon. Turning toward him, I offered it, holding the spoon close to his face.
"Ap jaanti hain, mein desserts nahi khata," he replied, raising an eyebrow. His words made my smile falter, and I quickly pulled the spoon back, embarrassed by my oversight.
But before I could put it down, he reached out, gently holding my hand in place.
"But I think... I can take a bite for you," he added, his tone soft yet teasing. I stared at him, surprised, as he leaned forward and took a bite. His expression changed almost instantly, his brows raising as if the flavor had truly caught him off guard. Then, he smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.
"Behad lazeez"
I couldn't stop the wide grin that spread across my face at his unexpected reaction. His small gesture of appreciation warmed me in ways I didn't expect, and for a moment, the world outside the kitchen didn't matter.
"Waise, mein itne crore isliye nahi kama raha ke meri begum is tarah kitchen mein kaam karti rahe," Hayaan remarked, shaking his head in mock disapproval as his gaze swept the room.
"Sab mulazim kahan gaye hain? Abhi khabar leta hoon sabki." I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"Hayaan, unki koi galti nahi hai. Mujhe kaam karna achha lagta hai sabke liye. Ap unko kuch mat kehna," I replied in a firm tone, meeting his gaze to emphasize my words.
He sighed, scratching his brow in mild surprise before nodding in reluctant agreement.
"Chalen?" I asked him after switching off the gas.
Instead of answering, he stretched out his hand toward me.
I raised an eyebrow in question, and he simply signaled for me to hold his hand. A shy smile spread across my face as I slipped my hand into his, feeling the warmth of his touch.
When he entwined our fingers, my heart fluttered. There was something so effortlessly intimate about the way our hands fit perfectly together, as though they were made for this moment.
"Waise, ap mujhe kyun dhoond rahe thay?" I asked, curiosity lacing my voice.
He glanced at me nonchalantly, as though what he was about to say wasn't going to shake me to my core.
"Woh... humare village se kuch rishtedaar aaye hain. Everyone was eager to see my wife. So, that's why," he replied casually, his tone unbothered. My eyes widened in shock at his statement.
"What?" I managed to whisper, disbelief and nervousness creeping into my voice.
This was the first time I was going to meet Hayaan's relatives. Our wedding had been an intimate affair, attended only by our families and close friendsâa fact I had deeply appreciated. But now, the thought of meeting his extended family left me overwhelmed.
"Hayaan, mein sabke samne aise nahi jaa sakti. Mein kitni buri lag rahi hoon!" I exclaimed, glancing down at myself in dismay.
My hair was tied in a messy bun, my clothes were dusty and far from presentable, and I wasn't wearing any makeup. To make matters worse, my dupatta was tied around my waist for convenience, and the outfit wasn't even remotely elegant. I must look terrible.
"Aairah, ap bohot achi lag rahi hain aise bhi," Hayaan said firmly, his tone carrying a note of finality. His serious gaze met mine as he added, "Aur koi kya kehta hai, apko usse koi farq nahi parna chahiye."
But his reassurance wasn't enough to ease my nerves. I shook my head, still unsatisfied.
"Hayaan, apke liye yeh kehna asaan hai, lekin mere liye nahi," I said, my voice trembling with the weight of my insecurities.
"Woh apki biwi ko dekhna chahte hain, aur main sabko achi lagna chahti hoon. Mein apke sath achi lagna chahti hoon Main nahi chahti koi apse bole ke apne kis kisam ki larki se shaadi ki hai. Main chahti hoon ke ap sabko garv se mujhe dikhayen."
I looked down, avoiding his gaze, my fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of my dupatta.
When I finally gathered the courage to look up, I froze. Hayaan's eyes held a sharp disappointment, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at me.
"Hayaan," I whispered his name, my voice barely audible. Anxiety bubbled inside me as he looked away, running a hand through his hair in visible frustration. My heart sank, and I bit my lip, playing nervously with the fabric of my dupatta.
He let out a deep sigh, his expression softening slightly, though the tension lingered. He turned his gaze back to me, and I felt the air shift between us.
Without a word, he took a step closer.
His intense gaze held mine, and my breath hitched as I instinctively stepped back. He didn't stop. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the space between us.
I gasped as my back pressed against the cool surface of the wall. My heart pounded as I looked up at him, his closeness making the world narrow to just the two of us.
"Haya-
"Khamosh," he whispered, placing his finger gently on my lips. I shuddered, my eyes widening in shock. My heart skipped a beat, the warmth of his touch sending a current through me.
"May I?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, leaning even closer. I was so dazed that I could only blink, unable to form words.
He tilted his head down, and I felt his breath on my ear, a soft whisper of warmth that made my heart race.
He slowly removed the clutcher from my hair, letting it fall freely, the strands brushing against my skin like a soft caress. He gathered it in his hand, lifting it to his nose. I blushed at the intimate gesture as he inhaled the fragrance, his eyes never leaving mine.
After a brief pause, he gently let my hair fall back to my shoulder, and I could barely breathe as his fingers expertly untied the knot of my dupatta. The fabric slid off my shoulder, and I froze in shock.
I felt exposed, more vulnerable than ever, yet I didn't stop him. I lowered my head, silently giving him the freedom to do as he pleased. His touch was warm and reassuring as he held my hand and pulled me forward, lifting the dupatta again, and placing it gently on my head, arranging it to cover me.
"Ab ap bilkul waise lag rahi hain, jaise aap mujhe pasand hainâsada aur paak," he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness.
"Aur agar koi apko pasand nahi karta, tou woh unka masla hai, kyunki ap jesi bhi hain, mere liye khoobsurat hain. Aur yeh hi kafi hai. Apne apko doosron ke kamtar samajhne ki koi zaroorat nahi hai apko ap un sab as alag hain kyunki apka dil saaf hai, jitni ap andar se khoobsoorat hai utni he bahir se samjhi."
His words were like a balm to my heart, easing the insecurity that had clouded my thoughts. I lifted my eyes, searching his face, and found nothing but raw honesty in his gaze. The intensity of it overwhelmed me, and I lowered my head again, a shy smile tugging at my lips.
He was right. In the end, only his opinion mattered.
"Aur sabit karne ki zaroorat hai mujhe ke aap bohot khaas hain mere liye?" he asked with a soft, playful smile, the kind that made my heart flutter.
I frowned, confusion clouding my face, unsure of what he meant. Before I could speak, he placed his hand gently on the nape of my neck, sending a jolt through me. I raised my brows in surprise, and he tilted my face upwards, his movements slow and deliberate.
His warm breath danced across my face, and I parted my lips, taking in a shaky breath. Then, I felt his lips brush against my cheekbone, so soft, so tender.
My eyes squeezed shut in surprise, and I instinctively clutched his t-shirt collar in my fist, utterly shocked by the sudden intimacy.
He lingered there for a moment, his lips brushing my skin, sending a wave of butterflies through me and a shiver down my spine.
As he pulled back slowly, I opened my eyes, my heart still racing. He stood there, his ears tinged with a blush, and we remained close, our nose touching and eyes locked in an unspoken connection.
"Astagfirullah, I am so sorry!" I heard Mahira scream, and both Hayaan and I quickly moved apart, feeling embarrassed.
She was facing away from us, holding Ada's eyes closed, pouting cutely, clearly confused by what she had just witnessed.
"You can turn, Mahi," I said in a low voice, trying to ease the situation.
She turned around, and Hayaan gave her a pointed look. Mahira just smiled teasingly, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
"Mamu, ap kya kal lahe the Aani ko?" Ada asked innocently, causing my eyes to widen in shock. Hayaan quickly cleared his throat, and Mahira bit her lips to hold back her laughter.
"Nothing, meri jaan. Aani ki aankh mein kuch chala gaya tha. Apke mamu bas check kar rahe thay," I explained, holding Ada's chin gently. She nodded eagerly, accepting my explanation.
Mahira, still trying to control her smile, closed Ada's ears and raised her head, blinking in confusion.
"Mein apka romance disturb karne ke liye maafi chahti hoon, par bahir sab apko bula rahe hain. Sab Aairah ko dekhne ke liye bohot betab ho rahe hain," she said with a teasing tone, removing her hands from Ada's ears. Hayaan cleared his throat and rubbed his neck nervously, then left without saying a word, picking up Ada as she giggled.
"Tou kab pehen rahi ho woh sariyaan bhai ke saamne?" Mahira teased, nudging my shoulder. I glared at her, feeling the heat of my blush.
"Aisa kuch nahi hai, woh tou bas unhon ne aise hi bola tha," I replied, trying to downplay the situation.
"Acha, itni bewakoof nahi hoon mein. Abhi dekha maine kya ho raha tha," she mocked, her hand dramatically placed on her chest. I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my blush in check.
"Sharmana band karo aur ab mujhe jaldi pupho banado," she said nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I widened my eyes in surprise, and she chuckled at my reaction.
"Acha suno, bahir jo relatives hain, baaki sab theek hai, par bua ji aur unki beti thore arrogant aur magroor se hain. Unko tum pasand nahi thi bhai ke liye, woh bhai ki shaadi apni beti se karwana chahti thi, tou agar kuch bolen tou bura mat manna. Aur agar achi tarah se pesh na aaye tou chup rehne ki zaroorat nahi samjhi, waise tou mein jaanti hoon, bhai aisa kuch nahi hone denge," Mahira explained with concern on her face.
I frowned, anxiety crawling under my skin like an unwelcome guest. The disparity in our class was already a gnawing concern, and now she had added more weight to the burden. She knew well that confrontation wasn't in my nature. All I could do was silently endure their words.
"But you said everyone was happy and had agreed to the proposal when you spoke to them," I questioned, my voice betraying my curiosity and unease.
"Han tou sab he raazi thay. Ab Bua itna thori matter karti hain," she replied nonchalantly, her casual tone doing little to soothe my nerves. I sighed and bit my lower lip anxiously.
Her hand rubbed my arm in an attempt to calm me before she laced her fingers with mine, pulling me gently as we walked out together.
"Kidhar hai teri dulhan? Tu phir akela agaya?" My maternal grandmother's voice cut through the room, warm yet teasing.
Before I could respond, Mahira entered with Aairah trailing behind her. She paused at the threshold, her nervous gaze locking onto mine. I blinked reassuringly, silently telling her I was there for her.
"Aairah, meri jaan, idhar aao mere paas," my mother called out affectionately, patting the spot beside me on the sofa.
Aairah nodded and approached hesitantly, sitting beside me. Our hands brushed lightly, but I schooled my expression into a neutral mask, unwilling to betray the pride swelling within me.
As my mother introduced Aairah to our sprawling family, a warm smile spread across every face. My aunts and cousins from both my father's and mother's sides gathered around, their eyes shining with curiosity and admiration.
Aairah's gentle demeanor and soft voice immediately put everyone at ease. "Assalam alaikum," she greeted each person, her head bowed slightly in respect.
My maternal grandmother, Nani,She placed a tender hand on Aairah's head, her eyes brimming with affection. The warmth and love emanating from Amma's gesture seemed to envelop Aairah, making her smile even brighter.
However, not everyone shared the same enthusiasm. My bua and her daughter stood out, their faces pinched in disapproval. But I deliberately ignored them, refusing to let their negativity dampen the joyful atmosphere. Instead, I focused on Aairah, who seemed to be winning over the hearts of everyone around her.
Nani's eyes sparkled with delight as she gazed at Aairah. "Areh tasweeron se bhi ziada haseen hai yeh to bikul gudiya jesi hai, or awaz toh koyal jesi hai, kahan mili aisi hoor tujhe haan," Nani praised her, making Aairah's cheeks flush with shy pleasure. I felt a surge of pride, but controlled my smile.
When Nani put some rupees in her hand, Aairah immediately denied, looking at me for help.
"Nani jee mein yeh kaise le sakti hoon," she said. Nani chuckled and replied.
"Areh apne shohar ko kyun nihar rahi hai rakhlo bahu karchi hai humari taraf se." I nodded my head in agreement, and Aairah handed me all the money that our relatives had given her to keep it safe. I was surprised, but I proudly took the money and tucked it into my pocket.
Throughout the gathering, my bua had been uncharacteristically quiet. I knew the reason behind her silence - she was aware that Aairah far surpassed her own daughter in every way. Moreover, she knew better than to cross me, and so she wisely kept her opinions to herself, her usual acidity temporarily neutralized.
As Aairah and I got up to leave, I caught sight of Ayesha, the girl whose proposal I had rejected, attempting to sabotage my wife. With a sly movement, Ayesha stuck out her leg, trying to trip Aairah.
My eyes narrowed, and I shot Ayesha a withering glare, my anger and protectiveness boiling over. Ayesha's eyes widened in fear as she realized she had been caught. She hastily bent her head down, her face burning with shame, as if trying to hide from my intense gaze.
"Areh bahu, humare liye chai tou banado, itna tou ata he hoga haina, sabne bohat tareef karli ao dekhe kam wagera ata hai ke nahi," my bua said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and condescension.
Aairah's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, I thought she would meekly agree to my bua's demand. But before she could respond, Ayesha chimed in, a sly smirk spreading across her face.
"For me, fresh orange juice," she ordered, her tone willful.
My anger flared, and I clenched my fist, my jaw tightening in rage. Aairah, however, seemed oblivious to the tension and began to turn away, presumably to fulfill their demands. But I caught her wrist, holding her back. She stared up at me, confusion etched on her face, as if wondering why I had stopped her.
I summoned the servant with a loud call. "Shakir!" The room fell silent, with everyone flinching at the harsh tone of my voice. Even Aairah, standing beside me, looked taken aback. But Mahira simply Smirked and folded her arms across her chest.
My bua, however, seemed to have recovered from her initial shock.
She was about to say I cut her off, my voice icy and firm. "Bua, let me make one thing clear. Shakir is our servant, available 24/7 to cater to your every whim. If you or your daughter need anything, please don't hesitate to ask him. He'll take care of it."
"Lekin Hume tou bahu kaâ" But my bua tried to protest, I cut her off, my voice icy and firm.
"Wou Aairah Hayaan Sikandar hai is ghar ki Maalkin hai, Mulazim hain kam ke ke liye, Mujhe pasand nahi ke meri begum, Mere alawa kisi ka kaam Karen, tou unhe kam kehne ki galti bhi na kariye ga or Abhi wou masroof hai, or mujhe apni Begum ka wakt chahiye, sham ko milte hain."
I glanced over at Aairah, and she was staring at me in shock, her eyes wide with surprise. I slowly wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her close.
She shivered at my touch, her expression transforming from shock to shy embarrassment. I knew my bold move had caught her off guard, especially in front of our family.
Without a word, I gently turned her around, and we began to make our way to our room, leaving the tension and drama behind.
Just as we were about to exit, my bua's shrill voice cut through the air, stopping us in our tracks.
"Yeh kya tareeka hai? Aise paish aate hain baron se? Areh, chai hi toh maangi thi, aur apki bahu yeh bhi nahi bana saki," she taunted, her tone dripping with malice.
The words stung, igniting a spark of anger within me. My fists clenched involuntarily, and I was about to respond, but before I could utter a word, Dadi stepped forward, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
"Areh, ghar ki bahu hai woh, mulazim nahi ke jab chai chahiye, tab bana ke degi. Usko bhi kaam hai," she retorted, her voice firm yet tinged with amusement, as if the argument wasn't even worth her time.
My bua opened her mouth to speak, but Dadi was far from finished.
"Meri laadli hai woh. Usko main hi kaam karne nahi deti, aur na hi Hayaan usko karne deta hai. Aur agar itni hi chai ki maut padi hai, toh jaake khud kitchen mein bana le," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she delivered her final blow.
"Khud toh humein ek cup tak nahi puchti, aur baaki doosron ke haath ki chai chahiye tujhe? Apni beti ko bol, khud ban le apna juice. Aata toh nahi hoga, khair!"
The room fell silent, my bua's face frozen in a mix of embarrassment and fury, her words swallowed whole by Dadi's sharp wit.
I stood there, a surge of pride and affection swelling within me, a warmth that washed over my earlier frustration. This was my Dadiâthe heart of our family, the fearless matriarch who always knew how to set things right.
Her words weren't just a defense; they were a statement. A declaration that Aairah mattered to her, that she was cherished, that no one had the right to belittle her in her own home.
I glanced at Dadi, my eyes shimmering with gratitude as a small smile crept onto my lips. She caught my gaze, her own softening for a moment before she raised her chin proudly.
My bua muttered something under her breath, retreating hastily, and I couldn't help but silently thank Dadi for yet again shielding my wife with her wisdom and quick wit.
I stepped into the room, the soft click of the door echoing in the stillness. The space greeted me with an unusual emptiness, the absence of her presence feeling oddly stark. My eyes instinctively scanned the corners; she wasn't there.
"She must be in the washroom," I thought, taking another step. But before I could let the thought settle, a soft, melodic jingle broke the silenceâthe unmistakable sound of anklets.
It wasn't just the sound, though; it was accompanied by a sharp, irritated voice, muffled but clear enough to carry a hint of exasperation.
I froze, my senses suddenly alert. The anklets chimed again, a rhythm that seemed to mirror her mood. Something about it was both familiar and oddly captivating, a reminder of her presence even when unseen.
"Just come out now, yaar!" Hala's sharp voice echoed, breaking through the stillness.
I frowned, my eyes darting around the room in confusion. Where was that coming from? The washroom door was shut, but the voice didn't seem to originate from there. It was as if it reverberated from the walls themselves.
A chill crept up my spine as an absurd thought struck me: Has she actually become the witch she always joked about? The idea seemed ridiculous, yet in the eerie silence, my imagination ran wild.
"Kidhar ho, chudail?" I called out, my voice laced with mock irritation as I checked the washroom and then the balcony. But there was no sign of her.
Just as I was about to give up, her voice floated towards me, dry and slightly amused.
"Bed ke neeche hoon mein."
I rolled my eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. Of course, she would be up to something absurd. Lowering myself onto my knees, I leaned down to peek under the bed.
There she was, lying flat on her stomach, her face scrunched up in exhaustion as if she had fought some epic battle to get under there. Her hair was a mess, her expression both tired and unapologetically mischievous.
"Seriously?" I asked, unable to hold back a laugh. She just blinked at me, completely unfazed, as if hiding under the bed was the most normal thing in the world.
"Idhar kya kar rahi ho tum? Yeh koi jagah hai jaane ki?" I asked, my voice laced with annoyance as I crouched near the bed, staring at her ridiculous position.
"Chand pe ja rahi hoon, chaloge saath?" she retorted with a forced smile, her words dripping with mockery.
I glared at her, unimpressed by her antics. "Yeh achi jagah dhoondi hai tumne chand pe jaane ki, short cut hai kya?" I shot back with a taunt.
She scoffed, closing her eyes dramatically as if summoning the patience of the universe, then murmured something under her breath. When she opened them again, her tone was deadpan.
"Meri earrings gir gayi thi, usko nikal rahi thi. Haath phas gaya hai mera. Help karni hai toh batao, warna dafa hojao."
I shook my head in disbelief and leaned down further, squinting to see what disaster she'd managed to cook up this time. Her wrist was firmly stuck between the bed's wooden pillar and its frame, her face a mixture of exasperation and defiance.
Sighing, I muttered, "Tumhari life ke adventures kabhi khatam nahi hote, na?" as I reached out to free her hand.
"No, don't you dare to break it! Tumhe mera haath nikalna hai aur mera bracelet bhi na toote," she ordered, her tone firm and unyielding, as if I were her personal rescue squad.
I raised my brows, amused. "Haan, haan, mera toh roz ka kaam hai na tumhe bed se nikalna. Bol toh aise rahi ho jaise sadiyon se karta aa raha hoon," I mocked, a grin tugging at my lips.
She shot me a glare, her face contorting into a comically bad expression before closing her eyes in frustration. "Tumhari sense of humor na, zero hai," she muttered.
I chuckled. "Aur tumhara adventure sense overload mein hai," I quipped, earning another scowl.
"Tou tum toh itni badi company ke CEO ho," she taunted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Main toh bas ek choti si problem lekar tumhare dar pe aa gayi hoon."
I shook my head in disbelief, her theatrics never failing to amaze me. "Tum na, ek din mujhe bhi bed ke neeche ghusne par majboor kar dogi," I said, leaning down to examine the situation more closely.
Her hand was still awkwardly stuck, and the bracelet jingled slightly as she shifted uncomfortably.
"Jaldi karo, mujhe lag raha hai bed ke neeche ka koi bhoot mera intezaar kar raha hai," she said dramatically, her eyes widening for effect.
I rolled my eyes, stifling a laugh. "Pehle tumhe bacha loon, ya bhoot se introduce karwa doon?"
Her glare deepened as I grabbed her wrist gently, trying to maneuver it out without making the situation worse.
"Zara dheere, haath hai, furniture nahi!" she snapped, her voice laced with irritation.
"Toh aise phasaya kyun? Tumse zyada toh yeh bed samajhdaar lagta hai," I muttered, focusing on loosening her hand.
"Very funny," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes.
I chuckled despite myself, carefully tilting her wrist to free it.
After a few attempts, it finally slid out. She let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, dramatically flopping onto the floor like she had just been saved from a life-or-death situation.
She held up her hand to inspect it like it was a national treasure, then glared at me again.
"Hassi uraate raho, ek din yeh haath tumhari gardan ke liye use hoga."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Achha, ab earrings mili ya woh bhi bed ke andar hi chup gayi hai?"
Her expression turned sheepish. "Woh... earrings toh nikal li thi. Yeh sab baad mein hua. I stared at her in disbelief.
"Matlab drama aur injuries free ka bonus hai? Tumhare saath rehna ek adventure park mein rehne ke barabar hai."She huffed.
"Chalo, at least tum bed ke neeche ka safai ka kaam toh kar hi leti ho." I mocked her and she rolled her eyes.
She tossed her hair back, trying to free it from her face, and as the soft strands brushed across my skin, a sweet fruity fragrance hit my nostrils. The scent was intoxicating, pulling me into a moment of utter distraction, as I stood frozen for a second, lost in the sensation of it.
She turned her head toward me, her eyes meeting mine, and I quickly composed myself, my fingers brushing over hers as was holding her hand gently.
Her gaze lingered on me, intense, and there was something hidden within it, something I couldn't quite place. I forced myself to look away, trying not to drown in the pull of her eyes.
Despite my best efforts, I felt my heart skip a beat. Her presence was overwhelming, her fragrance drawing me closer even though I wanted to maintain some distance.
I felt uneasy with the way we were positioned, her body on the right side, and me holding her hand with my left, while my right remained awkwardly pressed to the floor. I couldn't bring myself to place it around her, unsure of how she would react.
I glanced at her, and we slowly slid down from the bed. I was the first to rise and reached out to help her. She stood up, but her foot got tangled, and suddenly, I found myself falling back onto the bed, her body landing on top of mine.
For a moment, I could hardly process what happened. My eyes widened as her lips accidentally brushed against mine. The shock was mutual, and for a split second, time seemed to freeze. A jolt of electricity shot through me, my heart racing as I felt the undeniable connection between us.
She touched her lips in a daze, her eyes fluttering open, meeting mine with surprise. Her cheek flushed a deep shade of scarlet. The silence that followed was thick, as neither of us could find the words to break the tension.
She quickly averted her gaze, looking away awkwardly, and I bit my lip, trying to steady myself. I attempted to rise, but as I shifted, I realized her hair was caught in the button of my shirt.
"Ouch," she hissed, her gasp escaping as our fronts pressed together once again. My heart thundered in my chest, the proximity making my body react in ways I couldn't control.
She raised her hand to untangle her hair, and I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the effect of her closeness.
When I opened them again, I caught her glancing at me, her hand trembling slightly as she struggled. For the first time, I saw her anxiousâher usual confidence giving way to uncertainty. It was a strange feeling, realizing that my presence affected her as much as hers affected me.
Instinctively, I placed my hand around her waist and shifted, turning our positions so that I was above her now. She gasped in surprise, and I felt the heat of her breath against my face, our noses brushing lightly. Her hand remained above my heart, feeling the rapid beat beneath it.
"Why is your heart beating so fast?" she whispered, slowly pulling her hand away, her voice barely audible.
I raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly. "Tum doctor ho na, tumhe nahi pata?" She rolled her eyes, trying to untangle her hair, but I stopped her by holding her wrist.
"Kya, tumne adat daal li hai apne baalon ko mere t-shirt mein atkaane ki?" I teased. She gave me a fake smile, shrugging nonchalantly.
"Maine thodi jaanboochke kiya hai. Tum aise shirts pehna na, band kar do phir." I sighed, shaking my head as I carefully untangled her hair and sat up. She followed suit, sitting up and fixing her hair with a bit of frustration.
"Go get ready, everyone wants to meet you," I informed her, adjusting the sleeves of my black kurta. But when I didn't hear her answer, I looked up to find her staring at me, her gaze intense and unblinking.
I smirked, looking down at myself, amused. "Itna acha lag raha hoon kya? Ke ap ki nazrein hi nai hat rahi mujhse, biwi?" I snapped my fingers playfully.
She flushed a deep red and quickly looked away, coughing to cover her discomfort.
"Nai, main bas dekh rahi thi ke aaj tum thode insaan jaise lag rahe ho," she said, a teasing tone in her voice.
I chuckled, knowing full well that she would never admit that she found me looking so good it left her momentarily lost in the moment. But I could tellâI had an effect on her, just as she had on me.
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