Here goes the chapter and sorry for the delay I was not well, and I thanked each one for you supporting me and waiting for to post.
love y'all
Aur ab maine kardiya hai chapter post agar jo response na aya acha phir dekhna sab.. because everyone keep asking about "chapter chapters but the response is not upto the mark.
And thankyou for all my genuine readers who always give feedback and share such nice comments!! â¨ð
I sat on my bed, gazing at my mehndi-clad hands. The intricate patterns swirled across my palms, my favorite flower motif standing out vividly. They said the darker the mehendi, the deeper the love. My friends had teased me earlier, giggling
"Look how dark it is! the groom must really love you."
I had smiled at their words, because this was for my Zeeshan, staring at my hands, the dark stain indicating his love for me.
The sound of the door creaking open startled me, and I quickly wiped the smile off my face. My father entered the room, his face glowing with pride and affection.
"My little princess," he said warmly, walking toward me.
I tried to smile at him, but my lips quivered. His presence always made me feel small, like the child who used to run to him for protection. Now, I didn't know how to face him with the storm brewing inside me.
"You look so beautiful today," he said, sitting beside me on the bed. He gently took my hands in his, examining the mehendi.
"Just like your mother did on her wedding day."
The mention of my mother brought a lump to my throat. I nodded, forcing a weak smile. "Thank you, Papa."
He patted my hand, his voice soft and filled with hope. "This wedding will be the best thing for you, beta. Zahab is a good man. You'll be happy with him, and that's all I've ever wanted for you. To see you smile."
I lowered my gaze, my heart sinking. Happy? Smile? He didn't know. can't he see the truth. If only he knew the man I'm supposed to marry.
He smiled at me, trying to lighten the mood. "You know," he said, "a day as special as this deserves a special gift. Ask me for anything, beta. Anything at all, and it's yours."
My chest tightened. Anything? His words echoed in my head. He sounded so sincere, so certain he could make me happy. But could I truly ask him for this?
Taking a deep breath, I steadied my trembling hands. I looked up at him, my voice wavering but determined.
"Mujhe apke dushman ke bete se shaadi karni hai. Karwaoge?"
The air turned heavy, the warmth in the room evaporating in an instant. My father's smile froze, his eyes narrowing as if he hadn't heard me correctly.
"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice low and sharp.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his disbelief pressing down on me. "Papa... I can't marry Zahab. He's not the right man for me. Please, help me, apne faide ke liye mujhe kyu istamal karahe ho"
His face darkened, anger replacing the pride that had been there moments ago. "Sharam nahi aati aise bolte hue? Badtameez ladki!" His voice thundered, and I flinched.
Before I could respond, his hand came down hard across my cheek. The sting radiated through my face, and my head snapped to the side. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
I clutched my cheek, staring at him in shock as tears welled up in my eyes. "Papa..." I whispered, my voice breaking.
"How dare you?" he roared, his face red with fury.
"Do you even realize what you're saying? Have you lost your mind? Zahab is a good man. You should be thanking me for finding you a husband like him, not this nonsense!"
Tears spilled freely now as I shook my head, my voice trembling.
."Aapne hi bola tha kuch bhi maang lo," I said, choking on my words. "Papa, please, I'm begging you. I don't want to marry him. He's not who you think he is. I know the truth about him."
His eyes narrowed, his tone cutting like a knife. "What truth? What lies are you telling yourself now? You're too young to understand what's good for you. This wedding is happening, and that's final!"
I grabbed his arm desperately. "Papa, listen to me! He's pretending. I know he's not the right manâplease, believe me. Please!"
He pulled his arm away, his expression hardening further.
"Enough! Zahab is perfect for you. He comes from a respectable family, and he is my friend's son. I know him better than you. This wedding is important for usâfor you, for everyone. Stop this drama and behave yourself!"
"Respectable?" I asked, my voice cracking with disbelief. "You think he's respectable because of his family name? Papa, he'sâhe's cruel! I know it! Please, just listen to me!" But he stood up, his movements sharp and final.
"I've heard enough," he said, his voice firm. "You'll thank me one day. You're too emotional right now to see clearly."
I sank to my knees on the bed, my sobs wracking my body. "Papa, please... Don't do this to me. Please, I'm begging you. I can't marry him!"
But he didn't look back. He walked to the door, his shoulders stiff with anger. "This wedding is happening. That's my decision, and you will respect it."
The door slammed shut behind him, and I crumble completely. My tears soaked into the delicate embroidery of my bridal dress, and I clutched my mehendi-stained hands to my chest.
I curled into myself, my broken heart aching with a pain I couldn't bear. My father's words echoed in my mind, drowning out everything else.
My fingers trembled as I adjusted the delicate embroidery of my bridal dress. I tried to steady my breathing, but the tightness in my chest only grew. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but dread clawed at me. My heart raced, faster and faster, as doubt whispered in the back of my mind.
Would Zeeshan come on time? Was everything as perfect as I had imagined it would be?
The sound of drums drifted in from outside, faint but unmistakable. My stomach dropped. My palms grew damp, and my breath hitched.
"He's here," I murmured to myself, panic beginning to bubble under the surface. But something felt wrong, off. I clenched my fists, trying to shake the feeling.
"Shit, Zahab agaya hai!" I cursed under my breath, pacing the room as my anxiety spiraled. "Zeeshan, where the hell are you?" I screamed at the empty walls, my voice trembling.
I snatched my phone with shaky hands and dialed his number. The line rang once. Twice. Each ring felt like a dagger twisting deeper into my chest. Finally, the call connected.
"Zeeshan..." I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I just needed to hear him. I needed to know he was there.
But before I could say more, his voice came through the receiverâsharp, cold, and unforgiving.
"I married her for revenge. I don't love her, bhai."
My entire body froze. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The phone slipped slightly from my fingers, but I clung to it like it was my last lifeline. Did I hear him right? Revenge? Me?
"No..." I whispered, shaking my head as though I could undo his words. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might tear through my chest.
This can't be real. This isn't real.
But his words echoed in my head, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. I married her for revenge. I don't love her.
My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the bed with a hollow thud. My bridal dress spread around me, its vibrant red mocking me. Once a symbol of love, joy, and new beginnings, it now felt like a cruel joke.
"Why, Zeeshan?" I asked aloud, my voice breaking into a sob. My tears came fast and hot, blurring the room around me. "Why would you do this to me? What did I ever do to deserve this?"
I stared at the phone in my trembling hand, as though it held all the answers. My vision blurred as fresh tears spilled over, soaking my cheeks.
"I loved you. I trusted you. Was it all a lie?" I asked myself, my voice barely audible over the sound of my crying.
The words repeated in my mind, louder and louder, like a curse. I don't love her. I married her for revenge. Each word ripped apart the memories I had cherishedâthe way he had looked at me, the things he had said. Has any of it been real?
My chest heaved as anger surged through the heartbreak, momentarily overpowering the pain.
"I hate you, Zeeshan!" I screamed, the sound raw and guttural, tearing from the depths of my soul. My voice cracked as I shouted again, "I hate you for lying to me!"
The phone in my hand felt heavy, unbearable. I clutched it tightly, my knuckles turning white, before hurling it against the door with all the strength I had left. The crash wasn't loud enough. Nothing was loud enough to drown out the storm inside me.
"What did I do wrong?" I sobbed, clutching my head in my hands. My voice wavered, trembling under the weight of my despair. "Wasn't I enough? Wasn't my love enough?"
I curled into myself, hugging my knees as the tears soaked into the delicate embroidery of my dress. The mehendi on my hands caught my eye, the dark patterns mocking me with their supposed promise of love. He doesn't love me. The thought stabbed through me again, cruel and unrelenting.
"You promised me forever," I whispered into the empty room, my voice trembling. "How could you? How could you destroy me like this?"
I pressed my hands to my chest, but nothing could stop the ache radiating from my shattered heart. Each beat felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the man I had trusted with everything only to be torn apart by him.
I sobbed harder, my cries filling the suffocating silence of the room. The weight of his betrayal crushed me, leaving me hollow and broken. And as the drums outside played louder, celebrating what should have been my happiest day, I sat alone, drowning in the pain of what he had done.
"Ab mein kya karun? Zeeshan mujhe aise kaise phasa sakta hai?" I whispered to myself, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.
My mind raced, frantic for a way out. Should I run away? The thought struck like lightning, and before I could second-guess it, I knew I had no other choice.
The sudden knock on the door jolted me, and I froze. Panic surged through me. What if it's Papa? Or the wedding guests? My breathing quickened as I looked toward the window. There's no time.
Without thinking, I lifted my heavy lehenga and rushed to the window, tugging it open with trembling hands. The cool air hit my face as I peered down. My heart sank. It was higher than I'd imagined. My stomach twisted with fear.
But what choice did I have?
I climbed onto the ledge, my hands gripping the windowsill tightly as I sat on the edge. My legs dangled over the drop, and I glanced down once more, my vision swimming. The world blurred as tears filled my eyes.
"Ya Allah, madad karna." I whispered a desperate prayer, squeezing my eyes shut. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. This is it. I have to do this.
With one final inhale, I pushed off the edge.
But I didn't hit the ground.
Instead, I landed with a sudden jolt, my breath knocked out of me. Strong arms caught me, cradling me mid-air. My eyes snapped open in shock, and before I could make sense of what was happening, the sound of gunshots erupted in the distance.
The noise made me flinch, and my head whipped around as I struggled in the grip of whoever was holding me. But when I looked up, my blood ran cold.
It was Zeeshan.
"What is happening? Why is he here?" My mind reeled as his face came into focus. His eyes met mine, and I couldn't look away.
He smirked, tilting his head slightly, as though I hadn't just tried to jump out of a window to escape him.
"Itni jaldi kya hai bhaagne ki? Araha tha na mein," he said, his tone casual, even amused, as if this were all a game to him.
I stared at him, my throat dry and my heart pounding, unsure how to react. Anger, confusion, and fear swirled inside me like a storm. What do I even say to the man who just ruined my life?
His smirk deepened as I continued to glare at him in silence. "Itni bhi kya jaldi hai bhaagne ki?" he repeated, this time with a mocking edge to his voice.
I clenched my fists, still held in his arms, and tried to steady the chaos inside me. How could he act so unaffected after everything I had overheard? Did he think I didn't know? Did he believe I was so naïve, so helpless, that I wouldn't find out his true intentions?
You don't love me. You married me for revenge. The words rang in my ears, pushing my anger to the surface.
"Put me down," I ordered, wriggling in his arms. He looked at me, surprised, as though he didn't understand why I was reacting this way. I glared at him, making it very clearâI didn't want to be in his arms or anywhere near him.
Finally, he put me down. I fixed my appearance, avoiding his gaze, folding my arms tightly as I turned away. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't even want to acknowledge him.
"What's wrong, Noor?" he asked casually, like everything was fine. The way he pretended to be so innocent made me want to laugh bitterly. How could he act like this when he knew exactly what he'd done?
"You were supposed to kidnap me," I said mockingly, glaring at him. "You're late. And now this? Yeh kaise kidnap karoge?"
"There's been a change of plan," he replied, his voice steady and confident. "I'm not kidnapping you anymore. I'll marry you and take you proudly in front of your family."
I froze, my eyes widening in shock. For a moment, I couldn't process what he'd just said. Marry him? No. I didn't want that. I didn't want to marry this man anymore.
But what choice did I have? The only way out was to stick to the original planâlet him kidnap me, and then I'd find a way to escape.
"Have you lost it?" I hissed at him, trying to keep my voice low but firm.
"Tumhe pata bhi hai papa kya karenge? Yeh drama karne ki koi zaroorat nahi hai, Zeeshan. Let's just do it the way we planned." I tried to assert some control, but he only folded his arms and shook his head, refusing to budge. I glared at him, frustration bubbling inside me.
Before I could say anything else, a manly voice interrupted. "We are getting late. Shall we continue the plan?"
Confused, I looked around, my eyes landing on three people approaching us. My heart sank. These weren't guests. I could tell instantly. Something about them felt... off.
The first was an elderly man, tall and with an intimidating aura, dressed in a simple suit. His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the area like he was looking for someoneâor something.
Every so often, his gaze would linger on the woman beside him before moving on, his expression unreadable.
The woman next to him was striking, her confidence evident in the way she carried herself. She wore an elegant saree, understated yet commanding attention all the same.
There was a hint of surprise on her face, her raised brows suggesting she hadn't expected to be here. Her innocence stood out, confusing me even further. Who is she?
Then my eyes moved to the last figure, and my stomach twisted. He was older than Zeeshan, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze piercing as it shifted between Zeeshan and me.
His face showed he was completely done with this drama, and the energy around him felt charged with something darkâarrogance, perhaps, or something more dangerous. Beside him stood another woman, younger than the first, her lips curled into a smirk that mirrored his.
The younger woman seemed to be enjoying herself, her amusement clear as her gaze darted between Zeeshan and me. She leaned toward the older man, whispering something that made his smirk widen.
My chest tightened. What was going on? Why were they all looking at me like that? There was something more to thisâsomething I couldn't understand yet, but I could feel it in my bones.
Zeeshan stepped closer, his expression calmâtoo calm. He extended his hand toward me, his voice steady. "You look beautiful."
I stared at him, my lips pressed into a thin line. I didn't take his hand. Instead, my eyes flicked to the group behind him, then back to him.
"Who are they?" I asked, my voice low but sharp.
For a fraction of a second, his smile faltered. But then it returned, smooth and practiced.
"Oh, just my family," he said lightly, brushing off my question as if it didn't matter. "You'll meet them properly later."
But it did matter. It mattered a lot.
My gaze shifted back to the older man. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before he looked away, his expression unreadable.
The younger man's smirk grew wider, his arms still folded as though he was enjoying the show. The first woman, though less amused, looked curiousâlike she was trying to piece something together.
Why are they all looking at me like this? My heart raced, dread creeping in.
I turned back to Zeeshan, my voice shaking despite my attempt to stay composed.
"Why didn't you tell me they were coming? Or... is there something else you're not telling me, Zeeshan?"
His jaw tightened for a split second, something cold and calculating flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile.
"You're overthinking, sweetheart. Today is about us. Don't let anything else distract you."
Overthinking? I wanted to scream. But I didn't. Not yet. Instead, I forced myself to nod slowly, my mind racing to connect the pieces. I already knew his true intentionsâI'd overheard him. He wasn't the man I thought he was.
My fists clenched under my dupatta, nails digging into my palms. I plastered on a fake smile, one that didn't reach my eyes, and spoke through gritted teeth. "Right. Today is about us."
"Smile, darling. We're about to get married." Zeeshan leaned closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I felt my eyes burn, but I did as he said. My lips curved into a forced smile as he took my hand, leading me away. My heart pounded in my chest, dread pooling in my stomach.
"Where are you taking me, Zeeshan?" I asked, my voice laced with unease. But he didn't answer.
My throat tightened as I followed him, fear creeping up my spine. The person I had trusted the most last night had turned into someone I now hated. My trust was broken, shattered into pieces, and I wasn't sure how I was going to make it out of this.
Zeeshan's grip on my hand tightened slightly as he led me to the other side of the road. My unease grew with each step. The silence between us was suffocating, and my heart raced as I noticed the soft glow of lights ahead.
When we reached the spot, I froze in place. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the scene before me.
There, under the quiet sky, stood a simple yet beautifully decorated setup for a nikah. White drapes hung delicately from a wooden frame, fluttering lightly in the evening breeze.
Fairy lights twinkled, casting a soft glow over the small arrangement. A red carpet led to a pair of chairs at the center, with a table in front of them. It was intimate, modest, and undeniably meant for one purpose.
I felt my stomach twist. My heart was pounding so loudly it drowned out the gentle hum of the evening. I didn't want this. Not anymore. Not with him.
My breathing grew shallow, and I turned to Zeeshan in panic.
"Zeeshan... What is this? Whyâwhy are you doing this?" My voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper.
He turned to face me, his expression calm yet unreadable. For the first time, there was no smugness, no forced charmâjust him. He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine as if looking for something.
"Noor," he began, his voice steady but softer than I'd ever heard it. "I know I never asked you this before. Not properly, at least. But today... I'm asking you." He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving mine. "Will you marry me?"
I blinked at him, stunned. The question struck me like a physical blow. My mind was racing, every emotion hitting me all at onceâconfusion, anger, fear, and something else I couldn't quite name.
I swallowed hard, struggling to find my voice.
"Zeeshan... What are you talking about? You can't justâjust bring me here andâ" My words faltered as I gestured to the simple nikah setup, my hand trembling.
"I can't do what?" he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "I can't ask you? I can't give you the choice?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My thoughts were a tangled mess, and I couldn't focus.
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I stared at him, searching his face for any hint of manipulation, of the coldness I had seen in him earlier. But all I saw now was sincerityâor at least what looked like it.
I looked back at the nikah setup, the weight of his question pressing down on me. My chest felt tight, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. How could he put me in this position? How could he ask me this now, when I was more confused than ever?
I stared at him, my mind spinning. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I wasn't supposed to feel this conflicted, this torn. I wasn't supposed to question everything.
But I did.
And I hated it.
"Tou karogi Nikaah mujhse noorii?" He asked again Zeeshan's words hung in the air, and I felt the weight of his gaze on me, heavy and expectant.
My heart pounded as I tried to steady my breathing, but the panic swirling inside me was relentless. I glanced again at the simple nikah setup, the fairy lights shimmering like they were mocking me.
This was not how I wanted things to go. Not like this. Not with him.I clenched my fists at my sides and forced myself to meet his gaze.
"Do I have a choice, Zeeshan?" I said, my voice low but laced with bitter sarcasm.
"Clearly, I don't. So let's get this over with. After all, you've already decided, haven't you?" For a moment, something flickered in his eyesâsomething I couldn't quite place.
Shock? Hurt? Doubt? But he quickly masked it with a small smile, as if he thought I was joking.
"You're dramatic as always, Noor," he said lightly, though his tone lacked its usual edge. He stepped closer, his expression softening.
"But fine, if you insist on teasing me like that, I'll play along. Let's get this over with, as you said."
I wanted to scream at him, to tell him I wasn't joking, that this wasn't some game. But the words refused to come out.
Instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and followed him silently toward the nikah setup. My legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last.
As we reached the small gathering, I caught sight of his family waiting for us. His brother stood tall and serious, his sharp eyes flicking between me and Zeeshan.
The elder man then zeeshan looked with the smirk from earlier looked amused, as if this whole thing was some kind of entertainment for him. The two women, one older and elegant, the other younger and mischievous, both watched me with unreadable expressions.
Their presence only made my chest tighten further. This wasn't just about Zeeshan and me anymoreâit was a spectacle, and I was the unwilling centerpiece.
The maulvi stood by the table, calmly arranging the papers. Zeeshan gestured for me to sit, and I did so without meeting his eyes. My hands trembled in my lap as the ceremony began, each word from the maulvi blurring together in my mind.
The maulvi's voice rang out, clear and steady, as he looked at Zeeshan. "Kya aapko yeh nikaah qubool hai?"
Zeeshan didn't hesitate. His voice was firm, confident, and unwavering. "Qubool hai."
The maulvi repeated the question two more times, and each time, Zeeshan's response was the sameâcalm and certain. "Qubool hai."
I watched him, my heart racing in my chest. He didn't falter, not even for a second. His confidence should have reassured me, but instead, it made the weight in my chest grow heavier.
Then the maulvi turned to me.
"Kya aapko yeh nikaah qubool hai?" he asked, his voice directed at me.
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My throat felt tight, my vocal cords refusing to cooperate. My heart thudded so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it.
The room seemed to close in on me, and for a moment, all I could hear was the sound of my own panicked breathing.
The maulvi repeated the question, but still, I couldn't speak. My hands trembled in my lap, and I stared down at them, unable to look up.
Then, I felt a hand on my shoulderâgentle, yet grounding.
Startled, I glanced up and saw a lady standing beside me, her warm eyes meeting mine. Her smile was soft, reassuring, and for a moment, it felt like the chaos in my heart stilled.
"Apko ghabrane ki koi zaroorat nahi, Noor," she said softly, her voice like a balm to my frayed nerves
. "Mein hoon na. Mujhe apni behen hi samajhna. Bhabhi mein baad mein hoon."
Her words wrapped around me like a blanket, soothing and comforting. I felt a warmth I hadn't expected, as if she genuinely meant every word she said.
I took a shaky breath, her hand still steady on my shoulder, and slowly nodded. Gathering all the strength I had, I whispered, "Qubool hai."
The maulvi asked the question again, and this time, I didn't hesitate as much. My voice was still quiet, but I said it
"Qubool hai."
On the third and final time, I felt a flicker of resolve. I glanced briefly at Aairah bhabhi, her encouraging smile giving me the push I needed.
"Qubool hai," I said, my voice a little stronger now.
The maulvi nodded, declaring the nikah complete. The room erupted into polite claps and murmurs of congratulations, but I couldn't bring myself to feel anything other than the lingering weight in my chest.
The lady squeezed my shoulder gently before stepping back. Her warmth lingered, but even that wasn't enough to chase away the storm inside me.
I had said the words. The nikah was done. But as I glanced at Zeeshan, his smile soft and proud, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just signed away a part of myself I would never get back.
When the time came to sign the nikah papers, my body froze. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear the quiet murmurs around me.
Zeeshan sat beside me, his demeanor calm and collected, while I felt like I was crumbling inside.
"Noor," his voice broke through my haze, soft and steady. "It's time."
I looked at the paper in front of me, the pen resting on the table. My hand felt like it weighed a ton as I reached for it, my fingers trembling. My vision blurred as tears threatened to spill, but I forced myself to stay composed.
I could feel everyone's eyes on me. The pressure was suffocating.
I gripped the pen tightly and lowered it to the paper. My hand shook as I signed my name, each letter feeling like a nail in the coffin of my freedom.
When I was done, I set the pen down with trembling fingers and stared at the paper, my signature staring back at me like a betrayal.
Zeeshan signed next, his movements confident and deliberate. He glanced at me briefly, his smile soft but uncertain, as though he sensed the turmoil I was trying so hard to hide.
"It's done," the maulvi declared, his voice calm and final.
Zeeshan's family clapped politely, the elder man then zeeshan's smirk widening as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. The lady beside gave me a small, kind smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
I forced myself to stand, my legs wobbling slightly. Zeeshan reached out to steady me, his hand brushing my arm. I pulled away quickly, avoiding his gaze.
"What's wrong ," he said softly, his tone hesitant, almost unsure.
I looked at him, my expression blank, my heart heavy. I didn't say a word. Instead, I turned away, my mind racing with thoughts of escape, of what I'd just done, of how everything had gone so horribly wrong.
This wasn't a celebration. This wasn't a dream come true.
It was the beginning of something I never wanted. Something I didn't know how to survive.
After the nikah was complete and the polite congratulations had settled, Zeeshan turned toward me with a proud smile, his hand lightly resting on my arm.
"I think it's time you meet everyone properly," he said, his voice warm but steady, almost as if he was trying to put me at ease.
I nodded stiffly, my nerves still frayed, but I followed him as he led me toward the group of people who had been watching everything so intently.
Zeeshan gestured toward the tall man with the piercing eyes and intimidating presenceâthe one who hadn't smiled even once during the entire ceremony.
"Meet him," Zeeshan began with a hint of playfulness in his tone, "he's my favorite and my elder brother, Hayaan Sikandar."
Hayaan's sharp gaze flicked to me, and for a moment, I felt like I was being evaluated. Zeeshan chuckled, leaning slightly toward me. "I know he looks a bit scaryâand to be honest, he isâbut only to everyone except his family."
At that, Hayaan's expression softened just slightly, and he gave me a curt nod. "Welcome to the family," he said, his voice deep and measured.
Zeeshan grinned, clearly satisfied, and turned his attention to the elegant woman standing beside Hayaan. "And this," he said, his tone lightening, "is his gorgeous wife, Aairah bhabhi. She's very sweetâjust like sugar."
Aairah bhabhi smiled warmly at me, her earlier comforting demeanor still shining through. "I'm so happy to finally have another girl in the family," she said, her tone soft and genuine.
Before I could respond, Zeeshan motioned toward the younger man who had been smirking throughout the ceremony.
"And this," he continued, "is my second brother, Sufiyaan. He might look a bit rude"âhe glanced teasingly at Sufiyaan, who rolled his eyesâ"but trust me, he's not. You'll get to know him better slowly."
Sufiyaan gave me a small nod, his smirk softening into a more neutral expression. "Congratulations," he said simply, though his tone was hard to read.
Zeeshan then gestured toward the younger woman standing beside Sufiyaan. She had been quiet so far, her demeanor reserved but striking.
"And she," Zeeshan said with a fond smile, "is Hala bhabhi. She's very beautiful and daring. A bit reserved, but don't worryâyou'll definitely gel with her. I'm sure of it."
Hala bhabhi smiled faintly, her eyes meeting mine briefly before she nodded. "Welcome," she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet strength.
I forced a small smile, murmuring polite acknowledgments to each of them. They all seemed nice enoughâor at least politeâbut I couldn't shake the feeling of unease in my chest.
Zeeshan looked at me expectantly, as though hoping I'd relax now that his family had welcomed me. But even as they smiled and spoke kindly, I felt like a stranger among them, my heart heavy with the knowledge that this wasn't what I wanted.
Still, I nodded along, playing the part of the polite bride, while the storm inside me refused to settle.
It was time for us to face my family, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I had dreaded this moment from the start, knowing the rage and disappointment awaiting me.
As Zeeshan led me forward, his brothers and bhabhis flanking us, I could see my father standing at the door, his face dark with anger. My mother was beside him, her hands clenched tightly, worry written all over her face.
The moment my father saw me walking toward them, dressed as a bride, with Zeeshan by my side, his eyes widened in disbelief.
Then, the realization of what had happened dawned on him, and his expression twisted into one of pure fury.
"You dare bring her here like this?!" my father screamed, his voice booming across the driveway. "What is this sham, Noor?!"
I flinched at his tone, my legs shaking. He stormed toward me, his face red with anger.
"How could you do this to us? To your family?!" he roared. "Do you have any idea what you've done to our reputation?"
Before I could respond, his hand raised, and my heart froze. He was about to slap me.
But before his hand could come close, Zeeshan stepped in front of me, his body shielding mine. His expression was dark, and his voice was a low, dangerous growl.
"Don't you even think about hitting her," he warned, his eyes locked onto my father. "If you  touched my wife, I swear you won't see the next day."
The tension was unbearable, like a storm brewing. My father's hand froze in midair, his jaw tightening, but his anger didn't waver. Before things could escalate further, Hayaan bhai stepped forward and placed a hand on Zeeshan's shoulder.
"Zeeshan, that's enough," Hayaan said firmly, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "Take her inside the car. Let me handle this."
Zeeshan looked ready to argue, but one look from Hayaan bhai silenced him. Without another word, Zeeshan grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the car.
His grip was firm, almost forceful, and though I wanted to ask what Hayaan bhai had whispered to my father that made the color drain from his face, I couldn't. Zeeshan's hold didn't allow for hesitation.
He opened the car door and pushed me into the backseat, where Sufiyaan and Hala bhabhi were already seated in the front.
I glanced out the window and saw Hayaan bhai leaning toward my father, his words low and threatening. Whatever he said made my father's face pale further. My mother looked on helplessly, wringing her hands.
As Hayaan bhai turned to walk towards him angrily, Aairah bhabhi quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him back with worry etched into her features. Behind her, the guards stood like silent sentinels, ready to intervene if necessary.
When they reached the car, the problem became apparent: there was only one seat left in the car. Aairah bhabhi hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Hayaan bhai, who stood silently beside her.
"There's no space," Aairah bhabhi said, glancing between the car and her husband.
Sufiyaan, ever practical, offered a solution. "Let bhabhi sit here. We'll call for another car."
Hayaan bhai turned to his wife, his face impassive. "Get in."
"lekin app?
She avoided his gaze, perhaps upset with how he had handled things earlier. But Hayaan bhai wasn't about to back down.
Instead, he opened the back door, where Zeeshan and I were already sitting, and climbed in himself.
He looked at all of us, his expression unreadable, before his eyes landed on Aairah bhabhi. After a pause, he tapped his lap and said in a low voice.
"Idhar aajayein aap." The car went completely silent.
Aairah bhabhi's eyes widened in shock. "Kya keh rahe hain aap yeh, Hayaan?"
"Humhe der ho rahi hai, Aairah. Chaliye," he said, his tone calm but firm. Without waiting for her response, he took her hand and gently pulled her closer.
Her face turned beet red as she hesitated, but the resolve in his gaze left no room for argument. She reluctantly sat on his lap, her posture stiff as he wrapped his arms securely around her to make sure she wouldn't fall.
The silence was broken by Zeeshan and Sufiyaan, who couldn't resist teasing. "Wah, bhai!" Zeeshan hooted, exchanging amused glances with Sufiyaan.
"Romance ho raha hai?" Sufiyaan added, smirking.
Hayaan bhai's glare could have frozen fire. "Shut up and drive," he barked, his voice low but commanding.
Sufiyaan chuckled but didn't push further, starting the car. As we drove away, I stole a glance at Aairah bhabhi. She looked like she wanted to disappear, her face still flushed, but Hayaan bhai's grip on her didn't loosen.
It was an odd moment, one I would have found amusing if not for the storm of emotions already swirling inside me. As the car sped away from my family, I leaned back, trying to calm my racing heart. Zeeshan, sitting beside me, reached for my hand, and I didn't pulled it away, somehow needed that and turn to look out the window.
Even with the tension inside the car, one thing was clear: this family operated differently. And I wasn't sure how I felt about being part of it yet and what scenario I have to face it further.
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