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I froze mid-step, the weight of the news hitting me like a wave. Zeeshan was planning to run from his own wedding.
My brother-in-law, who I had always thought of as naughty but well-meaning, was about to destroy not only the life of the girl he had promised to marry but also our family's reputation. My chest tightened with a mix of disbelief and anger. How could he do this?
I could barely register the frantic whispers around me and at the same time Hala entered and she gave me a look, as she was right.
"See I was so right they were planning something"
"How can you do this Zeeshan ?" I snapped at him.
I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself as the image of a bride waiting for a groom who wouldn't come flitted through my mind. The shame, the heartbreakâit was unbearable to even imagine.
When Hayaan walked closer to me, I turned to him, my emotions spilling over before I could stop myself.
"Hayaan, aap ko sab maloom tha?" My voice was steady but firm, searching his eyes for an answer.
"Your brother is running away from his own wedding, and you're just standing by, letting it happen?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression calm yet weary, as if he had already anticipated my reaction.
"Aairah, meri baat suniye app" he began gently.
"Nahi, Hayaan." I shook my head, my voice soft but filled with urgency. "This isn't just about him. What about the girl he's leaving behind? Her family? Their dignity? Do you realize what this will do to them?"
"I've spoken to her family," he replied, his tone steady but not defensive.
His words gave me pause. "You've already spoken to them?"
"Yes," he said, taking a cautious step closer. "I explained everything to them. I told them Zeeshan wasn't ready for this, that he had felt pressured into it. I thought they deserved the truth, and they tried to understand."
I looked at him with such a mix of frustration and hurt, my mind racing, memories of the past few weeks flooding in.
He'd been hiding things from meâthings I had a right to know, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was keeping secrets. I had trusted him, but now, I didn't know what to believe.
He reached for my hands, but I instinctively stepped back, crossing my arms as I paced the room. My thoughts were a whirlwind, each one louder than the last.
"Aairah," he said, his voice softening even more. "I know it's not ideal. I know this situation is far from what any of us wanted. But it's done. Zeeshan made his choice, and I've done what I could to minimize the hurt. Please trust me on this."
My emotions boiled over, and I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him, my voice suddenly sharp.
"Ap chahte hain ke main ap par bharosa karun, Hayaan? Itne sab kuch ke baad? Iske baad ke apne mujhse baatein chhupayi? Is baat ke baad ke ap sach bolne se ghabra gaye? Ab main ap par kaise bharosa karun jab mujhe lagta hai ke ap shuru se hi mujhse sab kuch chhupa rahe hain?"
(You want me to trust you, Hayaan? After everything? After you kept things from me? After you were too afraid to tell me the truth? How can I trust you now when it feels like you've been hiding things from me all along?)
He flinched, the realization of my hurt dawning on him. He opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn't done.
"Aairah, mera kabhi irada nahi tha ke main apko takleef du. Main kabhi nahi chahta tha ke apko aisa lage ke ap akeli reh gayi hain. Mainâ"
(Aairah, I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like you were left out. Iâ)
"Nahi" I cut him off, my heart heavy with frustration and disappointment.
"Apka irada nahi tha, lekin phir bhi apne kar diya. Aur ab sab kuch toota hua lagta hai. Main yahan khadi kaise reh sakti hoon aur yeh kaise pretend karun ke sab theek hai, jab mujhe khud nahi pata ke ab asli kya hai aur jhoota kya."
(You didn't mean to, but you did. And now, everything feels broken. How can I just stand here and pretend like this is all okay when I don't even know what's real anymore)
He stepped forward again, his voice gentle but insistent. ""Aairah, mujhe pata hai ke mujhse galtiyan hui hain, lekin main hamesha apki hifazat karne ki koshish karta raha hoon. Mujhe laga tha ke apko in sab cheezon se door rakhna sahi hoga jab tak main halat ko apne kabu mein na le aaoon."
(Aairah. I know I've made mistakes, but I've always tried to protect you. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you away from all this until I had the situation under control.)
I shook my head in disbelief. "Meri hifazat? Sachai se? Apne cheezein chhupakar mujhe aur zyada takleef di hai. Mujhe laga ke har ehsaas jhoot tha. Aur ab, hum yahan hainâjis jagah sab kuch toot kar bikharne ke kinaray par khada hai."
"Protect me? From the truth? "You've hurt me more by hiding things, I feek like every emotion was a lie And now, here we areâstanding at the edge of everything falling apart."
Hayaan's face softened, and he lowered his gaze, unable to meet my eyes. "Aairah, I was wrong. I should have told you everything. But you have to understand, I was trying to make it better. I was trying to shield you from the mess."
"Shield me?" I repeated bitterly. "You can't shield me from life, Hayaan. From the consequences of our actions. You should have trusted me enough to share it all with me from the start."
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. ""Mujhe pata hai mujhe aisa karna chahiye tha. Lekin is waqt, mujhe sirf itna chahiye ke ap ek baar mujh par bharosa karein, yeh samajhein ke jo kuch maine kiya, wo meri poori koshish thi aur wo haqeeqi tha."
(I know I should have. But right now, all I need is for you to trust me just once, to understand that I did what I could and it was real.)
I turned away, my mind spiraling again, the hurt still fresh. "How can I trust you when you've been hiding so much from me? How can I move forward from here when everything feels like a lie?"
He sat down beside me on the sofa, his voice quiet but filled with regret. "I understand, Aairah. I understand why you feel this way. I just want to make things right, but I can't do it alone."
I shook my head, my heart still conflicted. "I don't know, Hayaan. I just don't know how we're going to face this as a family. I don't know how we'll move forward from here."
And for the first time, Hayaan didn't have an answer. The silence hung between us, and I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on both of us.
It wasn't just about Zeeshan anymore. It was about usâabout trust, about honesty, and about whether we could find a way back to what we once had. But at that moment, neither of us knew if it was possible.
The hurt was sharp and constant, like a low hum of pain that wouldn't leave me alone. It wasn't just about what he'd hidden; it was what it meant.
How could he look me in the eye every day, and pretend all this while? It felt like everything I believed in, everything we had built, was suddenly up for question.
I tried to think about the good times, the days when it was all so easy. Back then, I could look at him and feel nothing but love and certainty. Now, I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if I even knew who he really was.
The worst part was the confusion. I didn't know how to move forward from this. Did I forgive him? Did I fight for what we had? Or was this the moment I had to accept that we couldn't go back to the way things were?
I could see the pain in his face, but right now, my own pain felt bigger. I wasn't sure if we could go back to the way things were. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to.
All I knew was that I needed clarity. I needed to figure out if this relationship was still something worth fighting forâor if some things, once broken, just couldn't be repaired.
"Okay, I get it! Ap dono ko meri bohat fikar hai, but this argument is heading somewhere else now. Matlab, kya yeh meri waja se horahi hai fight? Then please stop it. Yah phir koi aur wajah hai?" Zeeshan's voice was calm yet laced with suspicion as he looked between us.
(Okay, I get it! You both care about me a lot, but this argument is heading somewhere else now. I mean, is this fight happening because of me? Then please stop it. Or is there some other reason?)
His words hit me like a jolt, and suddenly, I realized how far this had gone. The surprise on Sufiyaan and Hala's faces made it even worse.
My stomach churned with guilt. How did I let this slip out in front of everyone? This wasn't supposed to happenânot like this, not in front of them. This was between Hayaan and me.
I glanced at Hayaan, my face burning with regret, silently pleading for some way to fix this. I messed up. I said too much.
The moment hung heavy, and I wished I could take back the words, pull them back into my mouth before they unraveled any more of the already fragile thread between us.
But then Hayaan, steady and composed as ever, blinked softly in my direction. He reached for my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine in a comforting grip, as if to say, It's okay. I've got this.
"No, it's nothing like that," he said, his voice calm but firm, addressing everyone. "It's just... Aairah is a bit sensitive and emotional. You guys know her. She said everything in the heat of the moment."
He was taking my sideâagain. Even after everything, even when I'd let my emotions get the better of me, Hayaan still stood by me.
I felt a lump form in my throat, a mix of relief and shame. He didn't have to defend me like this, but he did.
I squeezed his hand lightly, my way of saying thank you without words. He didn't look at me, but I could feel his quiet strength, his silent reassurance that we'd figure this out laterâjust the two of us, the way it should have been from the start.
The room felt heavy with unspoken tension, but no one pressed further. Zeeshan seemed satisfied for now, though his eyes lingered on us for a moment longer, as if trying to read between the lines.
I stayed silent, lowering my gaze, hoping the moment would pass quickly. All I wanted now was to get out of this room and away from the prying eyes. There was so much I needed to say to Hayaan, but it would have to wait until we were alone. This was our mess to sort outânot theirs.
I was still trying to make sense of it all when I heard Zeeshan's hesitant footsteps beside me. I turned, my gaze narrowing as I took him in.
He looked... defeated. His shoulders were slumped, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his eyesâthose wide, guilt-ridden eyesâbarely met mine.
"Aairah Bhabhi..." he began, his voice soft and tentative.
"What now, Zeeshan?" I snapped, crossing my arms. "Don't tell me you're here to justify what you've done. I've already heard enough."
"No, no," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "I'm not trying to justify anything. I know I messed up, okay? I know I handled this terribly. But... please, can I explain?"
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. "Go on."
He motioned for me to sit, patting the spot beside him on the sofa. I hesitated but eventually gave in, my arms still crossed tightly over my chest.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. But you know how it is in this familyâthey don't take no for an answer. I said I wasn't ready, I hinted at it a million times, but no one listened. And before I knew it, the wedding date was set."
"Then why didn't you say something earlier?" I asked, my tone still sharp but less biting now.
"I was scared," he admitted, his big brown eyes looking at me like a guilty child.
"So now see all it's messed up Zeeshan have you thought about the reaction of the whole family" I replied to him softly this time. He shook his head, his expression one of utter defeat.
"No. I couldn't think about anything . And now everything's a mess. But, Bhabhi..." He looked up at me, his eyes filled with desperation.
"I love her. The girl I want to marryâshe's everything to me. I love her. I can't live a lie. I just can't."
I sighed, the anger in me giving way to something softerâpity, perhaps. I hated that I could see his pain, his remorse, his genuine love for the girl he wanted to marry. It was frustrating, how much I wanted to stay angry and couldn't.
"You're lucky I have a soft spot for my pathetic, puppy-eyed brother-in-law," I said finally, giving him a pointed look.
His face lit up, a flicker of hope breaking through his guilt. "Does that mean... you'll help me?"
I sighed again, shaking my head but unable to suppress a small smile. "I will But only because I care about you and about this family's reputation.
"Thank you, Bhabhi. You're the best. Seriously. The absolute best," Zeeshan said, grinning like a kid who'd just been handed a truckload of candy. Without warning, he threw his arms around me in an overly dramatic hug.
"Don't push your luck," I said, rolling my eyes, though I couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped.
"Oh, come on, Bhabhi. Let me bask in your greatness for a moment," he said, tightening the hug even more as if he was about to squeeze the life out of me.
Before I could reply, a loud ahem cut through the room. Hayaan was standing there, arms folded, brow raised, looking like he'd just walked into a crime scene.
I raised my eyes him , already bracing for what was about to happen. Zeeshan, of course, took full advantage of the situation.
"Stop getting jealous, Bhai," Zeeshan said with a sly grin, finally letting go of me and turning to face him. "I mean, I get it. bhabhi likes me better. But come on, you've had your moment."
"Jealous?" Hayaan repeated, his voice calm but with a dangerous edge. "Of what? You look like an overexcited puppy? Please."
Zeeshan smirked, leaning against the wall casually.
"Haan, bilkul. Woh ahem jo ap ne abhi kiya? Bilkul bhi insecurity ka izhaar nahi kar raha."
(Yeah, sure. That ahem you just did? Totally not screaming insecurity.)
"Insecurity?" Hayaan scoffed, stepping forward.
"Zeeshan, the only thing I feel insecure about is the amount of brain cells I lose every time I listen to you talk."
I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh, while Zeeshan gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if Hayaan's words had physically wounded him.
"Wow. That was below the belt, Bhai. I'm hurt. Betrayed, even." He glanced at me for support.
"Bhabhi, are you hearing this? This is verbal abuse! I'm filing a complaint."
"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Hayaan said, rolling his eyes. "The only complaint anyone's filing is me, for having to put up with you my entire life."
Zeeshan pointed at him accusingly. "You know what your problem is? You're possessive. Just admit itâyou don't want to share Bhabhi with me. It's okay, Bhai, let it out. This is a safe space."
"Safe space?" Hayaan shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The only safe space I need is one where you're not talking."
I finally let out a laugh, shaking my head at both of them. "Okay, that's enough. Both of you need to stop acting like kids."
"See? Even Bhabhi thinks you're being unreasonable," Zeeshan said, grinning victoriously.
"She said both of us," Hayaan countered, narrowing his eyes.
Zeeshan waved him off. "Details, Bhai. You're focusing on the wrong part of the sentence."
I sighed, looking between the two of them. I couldn't help but shake my head with a smile. This was their dynamicâequal parts annoying and hilariousâand I wouldn't change it for the world.
As we reached back I walked into the hall, each step felt like I was dragging the weight of the entire world with me. The sound of laughter, the clinking of plates , and the cheerful hum of celebration surrounded me, but it all seemed so distant, like I was hearing it from underwater.
My eyes darted around the room, scanning the faces until they landed on the stage. There she wasâNoor, sitting stiffly under the bright lights, her face veiled, her posture unnaturally still.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Yet, as I looked at her, all I felt was the suffocating weight of guilt and uncertainty. Beside her, Hala bhabhi fussed with her dupatta, whispering something to her.
Noor nodded faintly in response, but her entire demeanor screamed discomfort.
Before I could even process the scene in front of me, my mother's voice broke through my haze. She was walking toward me, her face lit with joy, her smile beaming with pride.
"Main kitni khush hoon, beta!" she said, pulling me into a warm hug. Her excitement was almost tangible, her voice trembling with happiness.
"Aakhir mere shararti Zeeshan ki bhi shadi ho gayi. MashaAllah! Chalo, ab jao apni dulhan ke paas baitho." She held my arm, nudging me toward the stage.
Her joy was contagious, and for a moment, I wanted to believe everything was okayâthat this was just another day, and I was just another groom basking in his family's happiness. But I knew better.
I hesitated, my feet rooted to the ground as if they refused to carry me any closer to the stage. My chest tightened, and my gaze instinctively shifted to scan the room for the one person who might ground me in this chaos.
"Bhai kahan hai?" I asked quietly, my voice low enough for only those close to me to hear.
(Where is brother)
Aairah bhabhi, who had been standing nearby, followed my gaze and quickly spotted Hayaan bhai. He was standing at a distance, deep in conversation with our father.
Aairah bhabhi leaned closer to me, lowering her voice as she whispered, "Woh papa ko samjha rahe hain ki dulhan ke parents kyu nahi aaye. Unko lagta hai bas woh nahi aaye... unhe yeh nahi pata ke asli dulhan bhi nahi aayi."
(He is trying to explain to papa why the bride's parents didn't come. They think it's just them who didn't show up... they don't know that the actual bride didn't come either)
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Hayaan bhai and she didn't know. Not yet. My throat tightened as a fresh wave of guilt washed over me.
Hayaan bhai was doing what he always didâcleaning up after me, trying to smooth over the chaos. But this time, there was nothing he could fix.
How would he react when he found out the truth? My heart sank at the thought of the inevitable confrontation.
Hayaan bhai had always been my rock, the one person who stood by me no matter what. But this... this might be the thing that finally pushed him too far. Would he ever forgive me for this?
Aairah bhabhi must have sensed my hesitation because she reached out and gently touched my arm.
"Zeeshan," she said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Abhi jo hogya hai uski tension mat lo, bad me dekhenge, At least jao aur Noor ke saath baitho. Tumhara yeh khara rehna sabko aur zyada ajeeb lag raha hai."
(Don't worry about what's happened now, we'll deal with it later. At least go and sit with Noor. Your being so distant is making everyone feel even more awkward.)
I nodded slowly, though every fiber of my being wanted to turn around and walk out of that hall. My feet felt like they were made of lead as I made my way toward the stage.
The noise of the guests, the chatter, the musicâit all blurred into a meaningless hum. I kept my eyes forward, trying to block out the weight of everyone's stares.
When I climbed onto the stage, it felt like stepping into the center of a spotlight. Every eye in the room was on me, their smiles warm but expectant, their gazes piercing.
I forced myself to sit beside Noor, though I made sure to keep some space between us.
I looked at Noor. She sat quietly beside me, her head slightly bowed, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her dupatta.
The Hall buzzed with laughter and conversation, but her silence drowned it all out for me. I should've been feeling victoriousâcontent, even. The revenge was done.
The plan had worked. But instead, there was this gnawing feeling in my chest, this uneasiness that wouldn't leave me.
Something felt wrong. No, everything felt wrong.
I tried to remind myself why I did this, why I went through with this twisted game. She was never supposed to mean anything to me. It was never supposed to feel real.
This was about settling the score, about making her pay for the pain her family had caused mine. And yet, sitting here next to her, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that I had crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
What the hell was happening to me?
I glanced at her again. Her face was still hidden beneath the veil, but even through it, I could feel her unease, her discomfort.
She was trying to keep it together, but I could sense the tension in the way her shoulders stiffened. She was scared. And suddenly, the thought of being the reason for her fear made my stomach churn.
What if I told her the truth? That it wasn't love, that it was all part of a planâa cruel, calculated plan to get back at her family. I had orchestrated every moment, every step, with precision. I should've been proud of that, but instead, I felt like a coward.
I didn't have the courage to tell her. I couldn't bear to see the hurt on her face, the betrayal in her eyes. The thought of breaking her like that... It was unbearable.
But why? Why did it matter to me now? It shouldn't. I shouldn't care. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? To win, to make her pay, to show her that no one messes with me or my family.
And yet, the regret was suffocating.
Did I... did I fall for her while pretending? My throat tightened as the realization hit me like a freight train. No, that couldn't be true.
It couldn't. This wasn't part of the plan. She wasn't supposed to matter.
But then why did the thought of her broken trust feel like a knife twisting in my chest?
This is insane, I thought, running a hand through my hair in frustration. My mind was a mess, tangled in emotions I didn't want to face.
I didn't know what was worseâthe possibility that I had genuinely fallen for her or the fact that I didn't know how to fix the mess I'd created.
I was supposed to feel victorious. Instead, all I felt was guilt. Regret. And something else I didn't want to name.
"Noor, are you alright? Do you need anything?" I asked softly, leaning a little closer to her. She didn't answer, just glanced at me briefly through her veil and shook her head in a quiet 'no.'
I frowned, her silence unsettling me. "Are you sure? Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?" I asked again, this time reaching out to place my hand over hers.
Her hands were ice-cold, which only deepened my concern. Without thinking, I took them into my own, rubbing them gently to warm them up.
She looked down at our hands and whispered, her voice so low I almost didn't catch it, "Tumhe sach mein meri itni parwah hai, Zeeshan? Ya yeh bhi acting kar rahe ho?"
Her question froze me for a moment. I stared at her, confused andâif I were honestâtaken aback. Acting? Why would she ask that? My hands instinctively tightened around hers, and before I could stop myself, I entwined our fingers.
"Of course, Noor," I said, my tone firm but calm. "Why would you even ask that, darling? I care for you genuinely. Tumhe aisa kyun laga? Kuch feel hua tumhe?"
(Why did you feel that way? Did you feel something?)
She hesitated, her gaze darting away from mine. Her hands tensed slightly in mine, and for a moment, I thought she might pull away.
But she didn't. Instead, she stared down at our entwined fingers, her silence weighing heavier with each passing second.
"Noor," I said gently, trying to keep my voice calm. "Tum mujhse baat kyun nahi kar rahi? , jo kuch bhi tumhare dil mein hai, mujhe batao. Tumhari khamoshi mujhe pareshan kar rahi hai."
(Why aren't you talking to me? Whatever is in your heart, tell me. Your silence is bothering me.)
She shook her head, her lips pressing into a tight line. "Kuch nahi, Zeeshan. Main thik hoon," she whispered, though her tone betrayed her. She wasn't fineâfar from it.
(Nothing I am fine)
"Thik ho? Tumhare haath itne thande kyun hain? Tum aise kyun lag rahi ho jaise..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. Like you're afraid or hurt, I thought. But I couldn't bring myself to say it aloud.
(Are you okay? Why are your hands so cold? Why do you look like...?)
She glanced up at me then, her eyes glassy, her expression unreadable. "Tum kyun itna puch rahe ho? Main keh rahi hoon na, kuch nahi hua," she said softly, but there was an edge to her voice now, faint but sharp enough for me to notice.
(Why are you asking so much? I'm telling you, nothing happened.)
I frowned, her words cutting deeper than I cared to admit. "Noor," I said, my voice firm but still soft. "Tum samajhti ho main tumhari feelings nahi dekh sakta? Tumhari aankhein sab kuch keh rahi hain."
(Do you think I can't see your feelings? Your eyes are telling me everything.)
She quickly averted her gaze, as though afraid that her eyes might betray her further. "Mujhe kuch kehne ka man nahi kar raha, bas," she muttered under her breath.
(I don't feel like saying anything, that's all.)
I sighed, leaning a little closer. "Noor, main yeh nahi keheaha raha ke tum apna har ek dukh mere saamne rakh do. Mujhe haq hai, Noor. Tum par. Tumhare dukh par."
(I'm not saying that you should share every pain with me. I have the right, Noor. To you. To your pain.)
Her hands went still in mine, her expression hardening for a split second before softening again. She looked back at me, and this time, there was something guarded in her gaze, a wall I couldn't seem to break.
"Haq?" she whispered, her tone neutral, almost distant. "Haq toh sirf uska hota hai jo kabhi dukh ki waja na bana ho."
(Right only belongs to the one who has never been the cause of pain.)
I froze, her words like a dagger to my chest. There was something in them, an undercurrent I couldn't quite place, as though she were speaking in riddles. My grip on her hands tightened instinctively, my heart pounding.
"Tumhare yeh alfaz... iska kya matlab hai, Noor?"
(These words of yours... what do they mean, Noor?)
She shook her head quickly, looking away again. "Kuch nahi," she murmured. "Bas yunhi. Galat bol diya."
(Nothing, "Just like that. I misspoke.)
But the tightness in her voice told me it wasn't a mistake. It wasn't random. It was deliberate, calculated even, though I couldn't understand why.
I searched her face, desperate to find an answer, but she wouldn't look at me again.
"Noor," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Tum mujhse kuch chhupa rahi ho. Kya baat hai? Kya tum mujh par bharosa nahi karti?"
(You're hiding something from me. What's going on? Don't you trust me?)
Her shoulders stiffened, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw tears welling in her eyes again. But when she finally looked at me, her expression was eerily calm. "Zeeshan, abhi mujhe baat nahi karni. Mujhe bas aise he rehne do."
(Zeeshan, I don't want to talk right now. Just let me be.)
Her words hit me like a slap, but I nodded slowly, my chest tightening with every breath.
"Thik hai," I said, releasing her hands reluctantly. "Lekin yeh samajh lo, Noor... main tumhe samajhne ki koshish karta rahunga, chahe tum kuch bolo ya na bolo."
(But understand this, Noor... I will keep trying to understand you, whether you say something or not.)
She didn't respond, just turned her face away from me, leaving me sitting there with a storm of questions I couldn't ask and a guilt that felt like it might crush me.
I didn't know what to say to that. Her words stung more than they should have, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral.
"I'm tired," she said after a beat, her voice flat but tinged with frustration. "When will all this drama be over?"
I sighed, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't set off another wave of guilt or unease. My eyes scanned the hall until I spotted Mahira, standing nearby, chatting with a few guests. I signaled her to come over.
"When are we leaving for home?" I asked her as soon as she walked up to us. Mahira raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised.
"Itni kya jaldi hai, bhai? Bas thodi der aur baith lo, enjoy the attention," she teased, smirking at me before glancing at Noor. Her curiosity piqued, she leaned closer to Noor and reached out, as if to lift her veil.
(What's the hurry, bhai? Just sit for a little while longer.)
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. "No!" I blurted out, making her flinch and step back.
"Kya hua? Pagal ho kya? Sirf face hi toh dekh rahi hoon," she scolded, glaring at me. "Waise bhi, Mama ne bola hai dulhan ka ghoonghat uthao so guests can see her face."
(What happened? Are you crazy? I'm just looking at your face," she scolded, glaring at me. "Anyway, Mama has said to lift the bride's veil so the guests can see her face)
"No, abhi nahi," I said firmly, stepping in front of Noor almost instinctively.
(Not right now)
"Kyun nahi?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion as her eyes narrowed at me. I racked my brain for a believable excuse.
(Why not?)
"Actually," I began slowly, "maine Noor se promise kiya tha... ki main uska ghoonghat tab uthaunga jab main usse uska wedding gift dunga." It wasn't the most convincing lie, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.
(I had promised Noor... that I would lift her veil only when I gave her her wedding gift.)
"So, wait till we reach home."
Mahira raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "But what about the guests? Sab yahin pooch rahe hain dulhan ka chehra kab dikhega."
(Everyone is asking when the bride's face will be revealed.)
"Unko baad mein dikhadenge," I said with as much confidence as I could muster, waving off her concern.
(We'll show them later.)
Mahira rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fine, tumhari marzi. Par agar koi aur poochhe, toh jawab tum doge," she said, throwing up her hands in exasperation before walking away.
(Fine, have it your way. But if anyone else asks, you'll be the one to answer.)
I let out a quiet breath of relief, turning back to Noor. She hadn't said a word during the entire exchange, but I could feel her tension growing. I sat back down beside her, trying to act normal, but my mind was racing.
How much longer could I keep this up? How much longer would I lie to everyoneâand to her?
I was walking through the hall, trying to make sure everything was in order and that the guests were well taken care of.
But, of course, Sufiyaan had to follow me everywhere, like a shadow. At first, I had given him a little space to be around me, but now it was starting to feel like he was sticking to me like glue.
"Pagal hogaye ho? Aise kyun ghoom rahe ho mere peeche?" I finally asked, turning around to face him.
(Have you gone crazy? Why are you roaming around behind me like this?)
I was annoyed, but part of me couldn't deny that his constant presence had started to amuse me. He just smiled, that mischievous grin on his face, and raised his hand to show me something.
"Mujhe nahi aaraha, tumhara pallu mujhe kheench raha tha," he teased me, clearly enjoying my reaction. My heart skipped a beat as soon as I realized what had happened.
"(I'm not following you, your dupatta was pulling me.)
It was exactly what I had imagined earlierâthe scene where he unintentionally caught my palluâbut it had happened so naturally, so effortlessly.
"Boldete na," I said, raising an eyebrow and pulling the pallu out of his watch. He chuckled, and I couldn't help but smile along with him, even though I was pretending to be annoyed.
"Mujhe maza aa raha tha, aise ghoomke tumhare peeche," he replied with a playful wink. I rolled my eyes, but there was something in his voice that made me smile despite myself. It was so easy to get swept up in his banter.
(I was enjoying it, wandering around like this behind you.)
"Yeh koi maze ki baat tou nahi aise pagalon ki tarah mere peeche bhag rahe ho, Mazak banwa rahe ho apna" I replied, trying to sound annoyed, but my tone betrayed me. It was hard to stay mad at him for long.
(This isn't something to enjoy, running behind me like a madman. You're making a joke out of yourself.)
He just shrugged, clearly unfazed. "Tum jo kehna hai kaho, mein wohi karunga jo mujhe chahiye Main tumhare rehna tha, Hala. Tumhara pallu toh bas ek excuse tha." His eyes sparkled as he continued walking beside me, not missing a beat.
(Say whatever you want, I'll do what I want. I wanted to stay near you, Hala. Your dupatta was just an excuse.)
"Excuse? Ab toh tumhare liye yeh naya kaam ban gaya hai kya Mr. CEO?" I teased him, glancing at him sideways. I was trying to sound like I was irritated, but deep down, I enjoyed the attention. We both knew it.
(Excuse? Has this become a new hobby for you now, Mr. CEO?)
"Bol tou aise rahii ho jaise tumhe maza nai arahs mera attention leke" he said with a smirk, raising his eyebrows.
(You're speaking as if you're not enjoying taking my attention.)
"Par tum itni serious kyun ho? Life kaise chal rahi hai doctor?"
(But why are you so serious? How's life going, doctor?)
"Serious toh mein humesha se thi. I replied, putting my hands on my hips dramatically. "Aur tumhare saath toh, itni funny scenes hogaye hain mere ki hum ek TV show banake bhi chal sakte hain."
(I've always been serious," I replied, placing my hands on my hips dramatically. "And with you, there have been so many funny moments that we could even make a TV show out of it.)
He laughed out loud, his laughter echoing around the hall. I smiled looking at him, and just as I was about to say something sarcastic.
I felt a sudden jolt as I bumped into someone. I turned to see an older womanâan aunt of oursâlooking at me with disapproving eyes, as if I had just committed some grave mistake.
"Areh, dikhayi nahi deta kya? Aajkal ke bachon ke toh fashion hi nahi katam hote, idhar-udhar ki koi khabar hi nahi hoti," she muttered, clearly distracted as she rummaged through her purse. It was her fault .
(Hey, can't you see? These days' kids never run out of fashion, they don't have a clue about anything going on around them!)
I raised an eyebrow, about to shout, when I noticed Sufiyaan's hand reach out and take mine. He gave me a knowing look, and I took a deep breath. I was ready to handle this.
"Par aunty, galti apki hai. Aapko nahi dikhayi deta, please agay se dhyaan deejiye ga," I said, making sure to add a hint of sarcasm. I could see the shock on her face as she processed my words.
(But aunty, it's your fault. You didn't notice, please pay attention next time.)
Sufiyaan had already predicted how I'd respond and now, I was feeling a little bit proud of myself for standing my ground. The woman, a little flustered, glared at Sufiyaan.
"Sufiyaan, tumhari biwi ko toh bilkul tameez nahi hai baat karne ki. Shayad bohat sar pe chadhaya hai tumne."
(Sufiyaan, your wife has no manners when it comes to talking. Maybe you've spoiled her too much.)
I couldn't help but roll my eyes . The audacity of some people! But then, to my surprise, Sufiyaan didn't look angry or defensive. Instead, he calmly replied,
"Meri biwi hai he aisi toh sar pe chadhunga na. Woh deserve karti hai." His words hit me like a wave, and I felt my heart skip. I didn't expect him to take my side like that, especially in front of so many people.
(My wife is like this, so of course, I'll spoil her. She deserves it.)
He squeezed my hand, a silent assurance that he was with me, and I was surprised by the warmth that spread through me. For a moment, I felt like we were a team, and nothing else mattered.
I stood there, a little taken aback, as he led me away from the scene. The awkwardness of the moment quickly turned into something much more comfortable, and I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride.
"Sufiyaan, tumne mujhe support kiya? Wah, kya baat hai. Ab tumhari family reputation ka kya hoga? Itna change meri wajah se? Wow," I couldn't resist teasing him as we walked through the hall.
(Sufiyaan, you supported me? Wow, that's something. Now, what will happen to your family's reputation? Such a big change because of me? Wow.)
He chuckled, leaning closer to me, his voice low but teasing, "Main support nahi kar raha tha, Hala. Main bas wahi kar raha tha jo us waqt sahi tha. Apni tareef kam karo, bas credit lena hai tumhe... chudail kahin ki."
(I wasn't supporting you, Hala. I was just doing what was right at that moment. Stop praising yourself, you just want to take all the credit... you witch.)
His playful tone made me bite back a laugh, though I shot him a fake glare. "Tum na, impossible ho," I said, shaking my head in mock disapproval, though the smile tugging at my lips gave me away. "But I guess, I'm stuck with you now."
"Stuck?" He grinned, raising an eyebrow. "No, Hala. I think you're quite lucky to be stuck with me." I rolled my eyes dramatically but couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled out of me.
"Tumhare confidence ka kya kehna, Sufiyaan," I quipped, my voice laced with sarcasm, but I knew he wasn't entirely wrong.
(What can be said about your confidence, Sufiyaan?)
Suddenly, I heard fireworks crackling outside, and without a second thought, I rushed toward the terrace. The moment I stepped out, I was awestruck. The sky was lit up with vibrant, colorful bursts, painting the night in hues of red, gold, and blue.
"They're so beautiful," I whispered to myself, my eyes wide with wonder.
"Do you like fireworks?" Sufiyaan's voice came from behind me. I turned slightly to see him standing beside me, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on me instead of the sky.
I sighed softly as the final burst of color faded into the darkness. "I love them. They're so pretty and colorful," I replied, my voice carrying a trace of excitement.
Just as I turned to leave, he stopped me by gently grabbing my wrist.
"Do you want to see more?" he asked, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. I narrowed my eyes at him, folding my arms across my chest.
"Bol tou aise rahe ho jaise tum karwa doge abhi," I mocked, raising an eyebrow.
(You're speaking as if you'll make it happen right now.")
He tilted his head, leaning a bit closer. "Tum bolo toh tumhare liye poora asmaan fireworks se bhar doon," he whispered, his voice low and smooth.
(If you say so, I'll fill the entire sky with fireworks for you.)
My heart skipped a beat at his words. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I stared at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. Before I could say anything, he pulled out his phone, tapping a few times.
"Bas ab apni khoobsurat aankhon se asmaan dekho, jab tak main tumhe dekhta hoon," he said, his flirtation making my cheeks heat up.
(Just look at the sky with your beautiful eyes, while I keep gazing at you.)
I blinked in confusion but followed his gesture to look at the sky. To my astonishment, the dark expanse suddenly exploded with colors again, each firework brighter and more vibrant than the last. My jaw dropped, and I clapped my hands together in delight.
"Yeh tumne kaiseâ"
(How did you)
I didn't get to finish my sentence because I felt his hand slide into mine. My gasp was audible as he entwined our fingers together.
"Yeh kya kar rahe ho?" I asked, turning to him, my voice trembling slightly.
(What are you doing?)
"Apni biwi ko patane ki koshish, and I think I am getting successful in this mission " he replied smoothly, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips.
(Trying to woo my wife, and I think I'm succeeding in this mission.)
I giggled, unable to hold back my laughter at his audacity. He pulled me a little closer, his arm brushing against mine. I shuddered .
For a moment, I hesitated, but then I gave in, resting my head on his shoulder as we stood there together, watching the fireworks light up the sky.
The moment felt surreal, like something out of a dream. And for the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged exactly where I wasâbeside him.
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