Here you go with the chapter I was busying which is the reason chapter got a bit late.
No proofreading, english translation is not added yet.
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Hayaan was still in the washroom, and we were already running late. I stood impatiently, fully dressed in a breathtaking green lehenga, its heavy embroidery catching the dim light and shimmering with every subtle movement I made.
My neck was adorned with a regal gold necklace, its intricate design embedded with dazzling green diamonds that matched the emerald tones of my outfit.
My hair was styled meticulously, parted in the middle and cascading down below my waist like a dark, silken waterfall. The half-sectioned style was secured with the delicate chain of my earrings, giving it an intricate, almost ethereal touch.
Tucked carefully into my locks were vibrant yellow flowers, their cheerful hue standing in soft contrast to the richness of my attire. Each element seemed to carry its own story, yet together they created a harmonious elegance, ready to face the night aheadâif only Hayaan would hurry up.
The hairstylist had done an amazing job. My hair looked perfect, and I was glad I skipped the head and side jewelryâit felt like it would have been too much. Keeping it simple seemed better.
I was leaning into the mirror, carefully applying kohl to my eyes, when the washroom door suddenly opened.
Hayaan walked out, rolling up the sleeves of his black kurta. He ran his hand through his damp hair, pushing it back casually. I froze, my hand holding the kajal pencil mid-air. My eyes were fixed on him, and for a moment, I completely forgot about finishing my makeup.
My heart skipped a beat, and a flurry of butterflies erupted in my stomach, restless and wild. He looked like a dreamâtoo good to be real, too perfect to belong to this moment.
He stepped closer, standing behind me in front of the mirror, his presence commanding yet effortless. I watched, mesmerized, as he brushed his damp hair back with practiced ease, each movement casual yet oddly captivating.
Then, reaching for the perfume on the dresser, he leaned closer, making it impossible to focus on anything else. I drew in a shaky breath, my chest tight with emotions I couldn't quite name.
"Hayee, Mashallah," I whispered, almost to myself, the words slipping out unbidden as I stood transfixed. My eyes clung to him, unable to look away, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence. In that moment, the world faded, and all I saw was my man.
Then his eyes met mine, holding an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. As he sprayed his intoxicating scent on his neck, the fragrance filled the room, lingering in the air like a spell. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, and he raised an eyebrow, his gaze still locked with mine.
"Aise kyun dekh rahi hai aap mujhe?" he asked with a playful smirk.
I felt the kajal pencil slip from my fingers as I immediately averted my eyes, my cheeks burning. His soft chuckle filled the room, and I could feel the warmth of his amusement without even looking.
"Kyun?" I said, turning back to him, now holding my ground. "Aap mere shohar hain. Aise dekhne ka man kiya aur mera haq bhi hai," I added, my voice laced with pride as I reached to pick up the kajal.
He bit his lip, a glimmer of approval in his eyes, and nodded, his smile deepening. The moment felt electric, alive, and uniquely ours.
"Haq tou hai apko," he replied with a slow nod, his voice smooth, before walking back to the bed to put on his shoes.
This time, I tried to distract myself, focusing on doing a quick touch-up on my face. I applied lipstick carefully, determined not to let my thoughts wander.
But then, as my eyes caught his reflection in the mirror once again, I froze. He was leaning back against the bed rest, arms folded across his chest, his gaze never leaving me.
His eyes were heavy with a quiet intensity, as if they could see right through me. A shiver ran down my spine, and I tried to avert my gaze, focusing on getting ready. Yet, no matter how much I tried, I couldn't escape the pull of his stare.
My hand trembled as I tried to fix my hair, the weight of his gaze making it nearly impossible to steady myself.
"Ap aise kyun dekh rahe hain mujhe?" I asked softly, my voice shy and nervous as I set the gloss down on the table.
"Shohar hoon mein apka, puri haq hai mere paas apni Begum ko dekhne ka," he whispered, his words mirroring mine from earlier. I blinked in surprise, feeling a warmth spread through me at how closely he had echoed what I'd said.
"Par ap mujhe nervous kar rahe hain," I admitted, my words tumbling out honestly as I turned to face him.
He smiled, a slow, knowing grin, and got up. With each deliberate step toward me, my heart raced, thumping louder in my chest. When he finally stood right in front of me, the space between us narrowing, I could barely breathe.
"Aur ab?" he asked softly, his voice low as he took my hand and pulled me a little closer. His touch sent a wave of warmth through me, and I found myself staring into his eyes, lost in them.
I could feel my cheeks flush, my gaze falling shyly before I lowered my head, overwhelmed by the closeness, the intensity of the moment.
I felt something cold against my skin and looked down to see him gently slipping a gajra onto my wrist, his movements slow and deliberate.
The soft flowers brushed against my skin, and I couldn't help but gaze at him with affection, my heart fluttering at the tenderness of his gesture. He lifted his eyes then, locking with mine, his gaze deep and unwavering.
Once the gajra was in place, he lifted both of my hands near his lips. He kissed my knuckles softly, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver down my spine. My eyes fluttered shut instinctively, and my breath caught in my throat.
My heart skipped a beat, the simple yet intimate gesture leaving me both surprised and moved. The affection in his actions today was unlike anything I had felt before, and I found myself overwhelmed by the quiet tenderness between us.
"Yeh kisliye?" I asked after a few seconds, opening my eyes and looking at him with curiosity. I couldn't help but wonder why he was giving me another gajra, especially when he had already given me one before.
"Kyunki jo maine apko diye thay, wou tou apne pehne nahi, or rakh liye tou isliye maine socha is baar mein hi pehna doon," he replied softly, his fingers gently playing with the lower strands of my hair, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity I couldn't ignore.
"Wou aap ka pehla tohfa tha mere liye, isliye mein usay sambhal kar rakhna chahti thi," I said, speaking from the heart, hoping he'd understand. He looked at me in surprise, and I silently prayed he wouldn't feel bad.
"Mere paas apke liye kuch aur bhi hai," he whispered, a hint of mischief in his voice. I couldn't help but feel intrigued. I raised my brows, my curiosity piqued.
"Kya?" I asked, my heart fluttering with anticipation.
He looked a bit nervous as he bit his lip, and then, with a quiet movement, he opened the drawer beside him. My curiosity grew as he pulled out a small red velvet box.
I looked at him, confused, and our eyes briefly met before he carefully opened the box.
Inside, he revealed the most beautiful anklets I had ever seen. My breath caught, and as I gazed at them, a rush of memories flooded my mind, making my eyes well up.
Hayaan noticed the change in my expression, and panic quickly crossed his face.
"Aairah, apko pasand nahi aaya tou koi masla nahi hai. Apko rone ki zaroorat nahi hai," he exclaimed with concern, gently placing his hand on my left cheek. I shook my head, trying to compose myself, taking a deep breath.
"Nahi, Hayaan, yeh bohot khoobsurat hain. Mujhe pasand aaya apka tohfa," I reassured him, my voice still a little shaky. He frowned, wiping the corner of my eye with his little finger, his touch soft as he tried to soothe me.
"Tou yeh kya hai, begum?" He asked with a playful look, showing me his finger, which now had a trace of my kajal.
I bit my lip, embarrassed, and turned to grab a tissue to clean it, but before I could, he gently held my elbow and turned me slightly toward him.
He leaned in closer, placing his finger behind my ear in a protective gesture, as if shielding me from the evil eye.
I stared at him, both amused and touched, my heart fluttering at the sweetness of his actions. A soft blush crept up my cheeks as I tried to hide the warmth I felt from his tender care.
"Ap batayen gi ke kya hua apko?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with concern.I hesitated for a moment before answering, my voice trembling slightly.
"Jab mein choti thi, tou mein mom se kehti thi ke mujhe yeh anklets den, because she used to wear them. Then she told me it was a gift from my father, and she said that one day, my husband would give me the same. And you brought them, so I just got a little emotional," I explained, nervously playing with my hands and glancing at him. He smiled at me, a knowing smile that warmed my heart.
"Tou phir, kya mujhe ijazat hai apko pehnaane ki?" he asked softly, holding up the anklets in front of me. I chuckled, nodding my head.
"Hayaan, apko har bar poochne ki zaroorat nahi hai," I said, shaking my head. "Maine apko pehle bhi kaha hai, apka haq hai mujhpe." I smiled at him, feeling the warmth of his care, the deep affection in his gestures and words.
"Haq hai, but consent is important. Just because I have a right to you doesn't mean I can do whatever I wish to do," he answered sincerely, his words making my heart skip a beat.
The depth of his understanding and thoughtfulness made me fall for him even more. He was so good with his words.
He held my hand, his gaze intense and unwavering, and led me to the bed, gently guiding me to sit. I was taken by surprise when he bent down on one knee, positioning himself near my legs. It was an unexpected and tender gesture, one that left me breathless.
His eyes met mine, silently seeking permission. I blinked, a shy smile tugging at my lips, and nodded. Slowly, he extended his palm to me.
I hesitated for just a moment before lifting my foot and placing it gently in his hand. The instant my cold feet touched his warm hand, I shuddered. A spark of electricity shot through me, leaving me almost breathless.
He placed my foot carefully on his thigh, and I clutched the bedsheets in my fist, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't stop the flutter in my stomach, overwhelmed by the closeness and intimacy of the moment.
With delicate hands, he placed the anklets around my ankles, making me feel as though butterflies were dancing inside me.
He repeated the same gesture with my other leg, his movements steady and focused. I kept my gaze fixed on him, my heart fluttering with every motion.
I instinctively reached up, an urge to touch his hair, but I froze when he raised his hand, signaling that he was done.
"Kya hua?" he asked, noticing my hand shaking slightly, his expression confused. I quickly shook my hand with an awkward smile, biting my lip nervously. He glanced at me once, his gaze soft, before nodding understandingly.
He extended his hand, and I took it, getting up slowly from the bed to slip into my heels. The anklets chimed softly as I moved, and I couldn't help but notice the smile that tugged at his lips. I smiled back at him, the sound of the anklets filling the air between us.
"Waise, apne mujhe payal he kyun di?" I asked curiously, my gaze lingering on him.
He scratched his brow, a small frown forming on his face. I knew that lookâhe did this whenever he was nervous. He ran a hand through his hair, and my eyes instinctively followed his every movement, captivated by the quiet elegance of it.
"Kyunki iski awaz se mujhe apki maujoodgi ka ehsaas hoga," he whispered, his voice low and sincere. "Jab bhi ap aas paas hongi, mujhe andaza ho jayega."
I was taken aback by his thoughtful words, the depth of his care and consideration washing over me. A soft blush crept up my cheeks, my heart fluttering as I processed what he had said. His affection, so simple yet so profound, left me speechless.
"Waise, jaise ap par mera poora haq hai, ap ko bhi hai, ap jo chahe kar sakte hain," he said, gently stroking his thumb over my hand. I looked at him, confused by his words.
"Matlab mein samjhi nahi?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He lowered his head slightly, taking my hand and placing it in his hair. My eyes widened in shock, and I felt embarrassed at the sudden intimacy. He noticed my reaction but didn't pull away.
Unable to resist, I ruffled his hair with my fingers, feeling the softness of his strands. It was something I had done when we used to sleep, but doing it in front of him now, with him fully awake and aware, made my heart skip a beat. After a few moments, I stopped, pulling my hand back shyly.
He lifted his head with a smile, and I looked down, my fingers nervously playing with each other.
"Ab chalen?" he asked, and I nodded. But then I realized something and quickly grabbed his elbow, stopping him. He raised his eyebrows, puzzled.
"Kuch reh gaya kya?" he asked.
"Jee, rukiye," I told him softly before carefully placing my dupatta on my head. I then took both of his hands in mine, reciting a surah as I looked at him. I blew gently over him, silently praying to protect him from the evil eye. He looked surprised, and I could feel his ears turning red as he processed the gesture.
"Ab chale begum?" he asked again, his voice soft. I hid my smile and nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me.
He clasped my hand, intertwining our fingers, and we walked out together, both of us smiling, the connection between us deepening with every step.
The function was in full swing, with the hall abuzz with laughter, clinking glasses, and vibrant chatter.
Zeeshan sat beside me, his fingers busily tapping away on his phone. I could only assume he was texting someone, probably finding an escape in his virtual world.
His smile, although polite, was plastered on his faceâa little too practiced, a little too fake. He nodded at the guests who came to greet him, but his lack of genuine engagement was painfully obvious.
Mom had made it a point to seat me next to him, perhaps hoping my presence would anchor him, keep him from wandering off. After all, it was his function.
As I absentmindedly observed the flurry of activity around me, my eyes landed on herâmy wife. She was walking beside my mother, poised and radiant, her every step exuding a kind of quiet confidence that I hadn't seen before.
Mom was introducing her to every relative in the room, and she smiled graciously, engaging in light conversation with each of them.
I couldn't help but stare, utterly baffled. Just a few weeks ago, she had made it crystal clear how disinterested she was in this wedding.
Her cold shoulders and clipped responses were still fresh in my mind. And yet, here she wasâcharming everyone, mingling with guests like she had known them her entire life.
Her head turned slightly, her gaze briefly meeting mine. My breath hitched, but she didn't linger; she turned back almost immediately, resuming her polite exchange with the guests.
She had been avoiding me ever since that incidentâever since that kiss. It wasn't even intentional. It just...happened. But I couldn't shake the feeling.
Still, the way she kept her distance gnawed at me.
And yet, I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances at her. She was breathtaking, dressed in an exquisite outfit that highlighted her elegance. Her face seemed to glow under the soft lighting, every feature accentuated with an effortless beauty.
But then, irritation prickled at me as I watched her converse with my relatives like they were old friends. Even my notoriously critical aunt, who hadn't approved of my brother's wife, seemed to be warming up to her. Her.
Hala, who had made no secret of her indifference toward this marriage, was now somehow winning over my family with ease.
I couldn't figure her outâthis shift in her demeanor, her sudden transformation. And yet, I couldn't look away. The more I watched, the more inexplicably drawn I felt.
What was it about her that had me acting like a love-struck fool, stealing glances, hanging onto her every movement? Even as the function unfolded around me, all I could focus on was her. Hala.
"So, what's up?" Hayan Bhai asked as he joined us, taking the seat on the other side of Zeeshan. The three of us brothers sat together, all twinning in black kurtas for the function.
The only exception was Zeeshan, who wore a green stole over his outfitâmarking him as the groom of the day.
Hayan Bhai smirked, his sharp eyes scanning our faces before his attention turned to me. "Tere chehre pe kyun bara baje hue? His I can understand," he teased, motioning toward Zeeshan, who immediately frowned in irritation.
"Come on, Bhai. You're enjoying yourself at my cost," Zeeshan grumbled, folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair.
"What's even the point of this stupid function? Isse achha mujhe ek nayi car gift kar dete. Why waste so much money?" His bad-tempered remarks earned a chuckle from me, while Hayan Bhai just shook his head in exasperation.
"That's because you're the star today, Zeeshan. Sab tumhare liye hai. Aik din toh bardaasht kar lo," Hayan Bhai replied, rolling his eyes. Zeeshan let out a dramatic sigh.
"Star? More like a prisoner. Mom made sure I'm stuck here. Even made him," he gestured toward me, "sit next to me like a warden. And don't even get me started on the fake smiles. I deserve a medal for this performance."
I couldn't help but laugh at his theatrics. It was classic Zeeshanâalways complaining, always looking for an escape. But today, there was no getting out of it. It was his big day, whether he liked it or not.
"If you want a car, I'll get you one anyway, so don't use these stupid excuses," Hayan Bhai responded flatly. Zeeshan sighed in defeat, leaning back in his chair like a sulking child.
Hayan bhai then turned his attention to me, his raised brows and questioning eyes making it clear he had noticed something unusual.
"Areh, main bas soch raha tha ke kaise mil rahi hai sabse," I muttered, my irritation slipping through.
"Jaise bohot saalon se jaanti ho. Mujhse toh kabhi aise nahi mili," I added, eyeing Hala from across the room. She was laughing with one of my cousins, her expression so animated and joyous that it stirred something unwelcome in me.
The sound of her laughter, so genuine and unrestrained, grated on my nerves. Why couldn't she ever laugh like that with me?
"Bhai, if you're feeling jealous, just say it clearly," Zeeshan taunted, his lips curling into a sly grin.
I shot him a glare, the kind that should have been enough to silence him. But Zeeshan being Zeeshan simply shrugged, unbothered, as if to say, Not my problem.
"Stupid," I muttered under my breath.
Hayan Bhai shook his head, visibly puzzled. "Isme burai kya hai agar woh sab se ghul mil rahi hai? Tumhe toh yeh chahiye tha na? Ab problem kya hai?" He paused, leaning in slightly as if to emphasize his point.
"Don't you think you should give it a chance? Talk to her. Work things out." I scoffed at his suggestion.
"She's not trusting me, I think. And why should I make the first move? She has to ask me first," I replied curtly, folding my arms.
Hayan Bhai frowned. "In a relationship, you don't think about races. It's not about who makes the first moveâit goes both ways. Maybe if you take the first step, she'll feel safe enough to follow. And frankly..."
He trailed off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "I can see you're more interested in her than you'd like to admit."
I widened my eyes, startled by his words. Was I that obvious? Of all people, why was he the one giving me marriage advice?
"Aap mujhe ek relationship mein advice de rahe ho?" I countered, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Khud kabhi Bhabhi se baat ki hai? Pehle hamesha woh hi start karti hain." I flashed him a fake smile, my jab hitting its mark.
Hayan Bhai coughed awkwardly, his composure slipping for a moment before he glared at me.
Meanwhile, Zeeshan, who had been silently enjoying the banter, chuckled loudly, drawing our attention.
"Stop laughing, Zeeshan!" Hayan Bhai scolded, smacking the back of his head. "Don't you want to get married to that girl you like?"
Zeeshan scoffed, rubbing his head. "Why would I, Bhai? Look at you two. If this is what marriage looks like, I'm better off single!"
"Shut up. Ab mein kar leta hoon Aairah se baat," Hayan Bhai mumbled, glancing around nervously, clearly trying to gather some courage. His discomfort didn't go unnoticed.
I smirked, and Zeeshan and I exchanged mischievous glances. It was too easy to mess with him.
Hayan Bhai's eyes narrowed suspiciously, darting between the two of us. "What are you two up to now?" he asked, his tone wary.
"Okay," I said, leaning forward with mock seriousness.
"So here's the deal. Apke liye ek dare hai. Agar aapne yeh kar liya, toh mein Hala se baat kar lunga. Aur," I paused for effect, "Zeeshan ke liye maan bhi jaunga aur plan mein shamil ho jaunga."
Zeeshan perked up instantly, his curiosity piqued. "You promise? Jo Bhai karenge, aap plan mein shamil ho jaoge?" he asked eagerly, his tone almost pleading.
I nodded confidently. "Done."
Zeeshan turned to Hayan Bhai with a hopeful, almost puppy-like expression.
"Bhai, please! You have to do it. You'll be saving all of us!" he said dramatically, clasping his hands as if pleading for a miracle.Hayan Bhai rolled his eyes at Zeeshan's antics but straightened up.
"Fine. Batao, dare kya hai?" he asked, his voice brimming with overconfidence, clearly underestimating what he was about to get himself into.
I smirked wickedly, taking my time to reveal it. When I finally told him, his face dropped, and his eyes widened in pure horror.
"Pagal ho gaye ho tum dono? Main yeh sab kabhi nahi karne wala! Aur sabke saamne toh bilkul bhi nahi!" he exclaimed, shaking his head vehemently, his indignation almost comical.
"Are you serious right now?" I teased, laughing at his panicked expression. "Aap itna toh kar hi sakte ho, na? It's not that bad."
"Bad?" he repeated, glaring at me.
"Bhai, come on! ap toh confident lag rahe the abhi," Zeeshan mocked, adding fuel to the fire.
"Shut up, Zeeshan!" Hayan snapped, pointing a finger at him.
I leaned back smugly, satisfied with the chaos I'd created. "Kaha tha na, kar nahi paoge. ap waise bhi talks karte ho, action nahi," I taunted, earning another glare from him.
Hayan Bhai rubbed his temple in frustration, muttering something under his breath. "Tum dono mujhe pagal kar doge," he finally said, and we both burst out laughing again.
"Come on, Bhai, itna simple dare hai. Bhabhi bhi khush ho jaayengi is bahaane. Aur meri shaadi ka sawal hai, Bhai, please!" Zeeshan whined, holding Hayan Bhai's arm in a desperate attempt to convince him.
I stood there with my arms folded, a smug expression plastered on my face as if I'd already won this little game.
Hayan Bhai sighed, looking between the two of us. Finally, he straightened up and said.
"Theek hai. Agar main yeh dare kar leta hoon, toh tujhe Hala se baat karni hogi. You have to tell her that you like her and want to take a chance in this relationship." His words hit me like a brick. I snapped my head toward him, all the smugness wiped clean off my face
. "Excuse me? Yeh decided nahi hua tha. Cheating hai, Bhai!" I protested, my voice sharper than I intended.But Hayan Bhai shrugged nonchalantly, already making up his mind.
"Tera dare bhi mere hisaab se bohot zyada tha, so deal is a deal," he replied casually, getting up and rolling the sleeves of his shirt like he was preparing for battle.
I opened my mouth to argue further but knew I had no choice. I gritted my teeth, silently fuming. This wasn't part of the plan.
"Bhai, see, Noor is asking what's the plan for tomorrow," Zeeshan said suddenly, holding up his phone to show the screen. His expression betrayed a mix of mischief and excitement. Hayan Bhai leaned over to glance at the text, and his lips curled into a smirk.
"Tell her to get ready for the most chaotic wedding ever. We're going together to get your bride," he said in a low, conspiratorial whisper, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he adjusted his kurta.
"Kyaaa?" Zeeshan blurted out, far louder than he should have. His voice echoed in the hall, immediately drawing the attention of everyone around us.
I kicked his leg under the table, hissing, "Shut up!" Hayan Bhai glared at him, clearly annoyed, while Zeeshan rubbed his shin, muttering complaints under his breath.
"Kya hua, puttar? Sab khairiyat hai na?" Dadi called out from across the room, her concerned eyes fixed on us. Zeeshan quickly straightened up, flashing her a sheepish smile.
"Haan, Dado. Bas mujhe yaad aaya kal meri shaadi hai, toh dar gaya," he said, managing to come up with possibly the dumbest excuse ever.
The guests around us burst into laughter at his response, amused by his melodrama, and turned back to their conversations.
Dadi shook her head with a small smile, muttering something about how "yeh bachay kabhi nahi badalte."
I glared at Zeeshan, who grinned at me as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Hayan Bhai just shook his head, clearly questioning why he even bothered with us in the first place.
"The Aesthetics"
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