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The sunlight streamed through the curtains, falling directly onto my face, forcing my eyes open. Instinctively, I turned towards the bedâher side was empty.
Noor wasn't there. A sigh escaped my lips as my gaze flickered to the spot where she had been sleeping, while I remained confined to the sofa. It had been a weekâseven long days of silence, of distance, of a war I didn't know how to end.
Ever since Bhabhi left for Kashmir, the house had felt hollow, stripped of its warmth. It wasn't just meâeveryone could feel the emptiness her absence left behind.
But no one more than bhai. I didn't know exactly how he was dealing with it, but I had heard the murmurs, the whispers about his short temper, his frustration.
He had fired three or four employees in just one weekâsomething he never did without reason. We tried to talk to bhabhi every day, but the network issues in Kashmir made it difficult, leaving us all unsettled.
And then there was Noor.
I didn't know what had changed in her, but it was unsettling how effortlessly she had begun blending into my family.
At first, she had been hesitant, awkward even, keeping to herself. But that lasted only two days. Now, she was moving through the house as if she had belonged here all along, as if these people were her own blood.
She had bonded with Hala bhabhi in a way I never expectedâteaching her how to bake, laughing with her in the kitchen, their voices mixing with the scent of vanilla and chocolate.
Hala bhabhi had always wanted to learn, and Noor was more than eager to teach her.
But what surprised me the most was her closeness to dadu. She had found a way into his heart effortlessly, bringing him sugar-free cupcakes because of his diabetes, catering to him in a way that made him adore her. Now, she was his favoriteâmore than me.
And that was fine. It should have made me happy. And it did.
But then why did it hurt so much?
Why was she getting close to everyone but me?
Every day, I tried. I apologized. I placed a single rose on her bed along with a handwritten note, hoping she would soften, that she would see my regret.
But every day, she crushed them without a second glance, testing my patience, pushing me further into this endless cycle of guilt.
But I didn't break.
Because I knewâI deserved it.
I had been a fool. And now, I was paying the price.
I walked downstairs, my steps slowing when my eyes landed on her.
Noor was in the garden, kneeling beside my mother, her delicate hands buried in the soil as she tended to the plants. A soft smile played on her lips, her face glowing under the morning sun. She looked... peaceful. Happy.
A sight that should have warmed my heart, but instead, it only deepened the ache inside me.
She could smile with everyone except me.
Taking a deep breath, I moved towards her. "Toh kya kar rahi ho yahan?" I asked, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
She barely looked up, her fingers still sifting through the soil. "Ghass ghod rahi hoon. Khaoge?" she replied, sarcasm dripping from her words.
I shook my head at her stubbornness, ignoring the irritation rising in my chest. "Come with me. I need to talk." My voice was softer this time, almost pleading.
But she didn't budge. Didn't even spare me a proper glance. "Can't you see I'm not interested?" she said, her tone indifferent, as if my presence meant nothing.
I clenched my jaw. Enough.
Before she could react, I grabbed her wrist, determined to make her listen. But before I could take a step, my mother's sharp voice cut through the moment.
"Zeeshan! Kya yeh tareeqa hai apni biwi se baat karne ka?" she scolded, her eyes narrowing at me.
Guilt hit me instantly. I let go, exhaling harshly before turning to Noor. "I'm sorry," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
But sorry wasn't enough.
I reached for her hand again, gentler this time, but she immediately tried to yank it away.
"Zeeshan, leave my hand!" she snapped, struggling against my grip. "Pagal ho gaye ho kya?"
Ignoring her protests, I pulled her inside, my grip firm yet careful. She thrashed against me, her voice rising, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.
I needed to fix this.
As soon as we reached our room, I shut the door behind us and turned, pinning her against the wall in one swift motion.
She gasped, her eyes widening in shock at the sudden closeness. I could feel her heart racing against mine, the air between us charged with unspoken words, unresolved pain.
"Chhoro mujhe! Phirse maar khani hai?" she screamed, pushing against my chest with trembling hands.
Her words hit like a slap.
I stilled. My breath caught in my throat, my hands falling away from her shoulders as the weight of her accusation settled over me.
"Noor..." My voice cracked, laced with regret.
She looked up at me, her eyes burning with anger and something elseâsomething I couldn't decipher.
"Bas kardo," I whispered, stepping back slightly, my head dropping. "Please, Noor..."
Her words hung in the air like a blade against my throat. Phir se maar khani hai?
I staggered back as if she had actually hit me. My hands dropped to my sides, the weight of her accusation heavier than anything I had ever carried before. My chest ached in ways I couldn't explain, in ways I had never thought possible.
"Noor..." I whispered, but she didn't let me speak.
She pushed at my chest again, harder this time. "Kya chahiye tumhe, Zeeshan?" she spat, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "Kyun aaye ho mere paas? Kya sunna chahte ho? Ki maine tumhe maaf kar diya? Ki jo tumne kiya woh theek tha?"
I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Noor, maine kab kaha jo maine kiya woh theek tha?" My voice was low, barely steady. "Main basâ"
"Bas kya?" she cut me off, her voice rising. "Bas yeh kehna chahte ho ki tumhe afsos hai? Ki tum maafi maang rahe ho? Toh suno Zeeshan... kuch zakhm sirf ek 'sorry' se nahi bharte."
Her words sliced through me like a knife.
She laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "Tumhe lagta hai ek sorry sab kuch theek kar dega?" she asked, shaking her head. "Tumne ek pal mein mera bharosa tod diya, mera dil tod diya jo pyaar the humare beech tumne usko revenge ke liye istemal kiya... aur ab ek sorry sab kuch sahi kar dega?"
I didn't have an answer. Because she was right.
I ran a hand down my face, exhaling harshly. "Noor, main jaanta hoon maine galti ki..." My voice wavered, but I pushed through. "Lekin main sach mein chahta hoon ki tu mujhe ek mauka de. Bas ek mauka."
Her jaw clenched, her breath shaky as she took a step back.
"Ek mauka?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, suddenly, she let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
Before I could react, she grabbed the glass from the bedside table and threw it onto the floor with force. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, sharp and unforgiving.
I stared at the broken shards scattered around us.
She pointed at the pieces. "Jod sakte ho isse, Zeeshan?" she asked, her voice trembling with rage and pain. "Nahi na?"
I looked at her, my throat tightening.
She placed a hand over her chest, over her heart, and I realized she was trembling. "Mere dil ka bhi yahi haal hai, Zeeshan." Her voice cracked, but she didn't stop. "Tum ek naya glass le sakte ho, par main apna dil naya kahaan se laun?"
Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
I stepped closer, desperate, my hands reaching for hers. "Noor, mujhe ek moka de do... please."
She flinched, yanking her hands away.
"Main thak gayi hoon, Zeeshan," she admitted, her voice a whisper now, filled with exhaustion. "Tumse, is rishte se, is dard se... main bohot thak gayi hoon."
The finality in her words hit me like a blow to the chest.
She turned around, reaching for the door.
I panicked. "Noor, ruk jao!"
The moment she opened the door, my heart lurched in surprise. Standing there, arms folded, his gaze sharp as ever, was Bhai.
A strange sense of hope flickered inside me. Maybe he had finally decided to talk to me, to acknowledge my existence after weeks of silence.
But the flicker died the moment his eyes moved past me, settling on the broken glass scattered across the floor. His brows furrowed in disapproval as he shifted his gaze back to me.
"I need to talk to you," his voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "Bring your wife. My office. Now."
And just like that, he turned on his heel and walked away, not waiting for a response.
I exhaled slowly, rubbing my face.
Bhabhi ke jaane ke baad toh yeh aur bhi serious aur dangerous ho gaye hain.
Beside me, Noor scoffed, shaking her head. "I wonder how Airah bhabhi handles him."
I couldn't help but smile, despite the tension brewing between us. "She loves him. And jab kisi se mohabbat hoti hai na, toh uska har andaz acha lagta hai. Bhai bhi bhabhi ke saath bohot different hain."
She turned her face toward me, her eyes gleaming with a trace of amusement. Then, she let out a small chuckle.
"Ab tum mujhe sikhaoge ke mohabbat kya hoti hai?" Her tone turned mocking, cutting. "Khud se toh dhang se hui nahi. Mujhe mat sikhao, Zeeshan."
And with that, she walked away, her coldness wrapping around me like a noose. I sighed, raking a hand through my hair before following her to Bhai's office, each step heavier than the last.
Inside, Bhai sat at his desk, his expression unreadable. He gestured toward the chairs in front of him.
I pulled one out for Noor.
She rolled her eyes at my gesture, ignoring it completely as she sank into the other chair instead.
Disappointment settled inside me, but I said nothing. Instead, I sat down in the chair I had originally pulled, feeling the weight of my own emotions pressing against my chest.
Then, without a word, Bhai picked up a stack of papers and threw them onto the desk in front of us.
The sound echoed through the silent room.
My brows furrowed as I reached for them, flipping the pages open. The moment my eyes landed on the words sprawled across the top, I felt my world tilt.
Divorce papers.
A sudden numbness spread through my body.
"Bhai..." My voice came out strangled, barely above a whisper. "What is this?"
He leaned back in his chair, his expression blank. "Padhna nahi aata? Divorce papers hain."
A mocking tone. A cruel smirk. As if he was enjoying my misery.
My pulse roared in my ears. My grip on the papers tightened.
"Sign them," he ordered.
I lifted my gaze, my chest tightening as I turned toward Noor.
Even she looked taken aback. Her arms were crossed, her eyes locked onto me, waiting for my reaction.
My heart pounded violently against my ribs.
"Bhai," I swallowed, shaking my head. "Main yeh nahi karunga. I can't live without her. Main Noor ko nahi jaane de sakta... Yeh nahi hoga mujhse."
Desperation clawed at my throat, but Bhai's face remained as emotionless as ever.
"Zeeshan," his voice was firm, merciless. "Tum kisi ko band ke nahi rakh sakte. Zubardasti kisi bhi rishte mein nahi rakh sakte." He leaned forward, his sharp gaze piercing through me. "She wants to leave. Toh usay koi nahi rokega."
His words sent a violent shudder through me.
"She wanted to leave," he continued. "You begged me for a chance, right? Then sign the papers. Tabhi main tumhe tumhari galti sudharne ka mauka dunga."
My breath hitched.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My fingers curled into fists as I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to steady myself.
I turned to Noor once again. She didn't speak. She just watched.
She was waiting.
Waiting to see if I would fight for her.
Waiting to see if I would let her go.
"only because she want to get free from ne from this relationship" I whispered and for Bhai, I took the pen in my shaking hands.
My heart screamed at me to stop, but I ignored it. With a painful exhale, I signed the papers, feeling a sharp, gut-wrenching agony settle inside me.
As if I had just signed away my own heart.
When I looked up, Noor's eyes widened in shock.
Only a week ago, I had sworn I would never do this. I had told her I would never let her go. And yet, today, I had done exactly that.
Bhai leaned back, satisfied.
"Now, Mrs. Noor Jahan Sikandar," he said smoothly, "the choice is yours. Do you want to stay in this relationship, or do you want to leave?"
The room turned suffocatingly silent.
He continued, "Agar ap jaana chahti ho, toh main apke saare expenses handle karunga. ap jis jagah jaana chahti ho, ap ja sakti ho. Koi zabardasti nahi hai."
My heart nearly stopped.
This was it.
This was the moment Noor had been waiting for. The moment she had dreamed of for weeks.
I braced myself for the final blow, for her to walk out of my life and never look back.
But then... she did something none of us expected.
Her fingers clenched into fists, her jaw tightening as she glared at Bhai.
"Mujhe aapke ehsaan ki zaroorat nahi hai," she spat out. "Main khud kama sakti hoon."
I sucked in a breath, my pulse racing.
She turned toward me then, and my heart stopped.
"Rahi baat is divorce ki..." Her voice wavered slightly, but her anger burned through. "Toh main yeh gunaah nahi kar sakti. Chahe mujhe Zeeshan ko bardasht hi kyun na karna pade."
And before I could process her words, she grabbed the papers and tore them apart.
The pieces fluttered to the floor like broken fragments of the past.
A sharp gasp echoed through the room.
And then, she turned on her heel, storming out, slamming the door behind her.
I sat frozen. Stunned.
She had wanted to leave me. She had spent weeks pushing me away. And yet, today, when given the choice...
She chose to stay.
A slow, knowing smirk curled on Bhai's lips as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes gleamed with something close to amusement.
As if he had known this would happen all along.
The door had barely shut, yet the weight of everything that had just transpired lingered heavily in the air. My heart was still racing, my hands gripping the edge of the desk as if it was the only thing holding me up.
She tore the divorce papers.
She had a choiceâa clear way out. But she refused.
My eyes lifted to Bhai, and to my surprise, there wasn't even a trace of shock on his face. Instead, a small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips, as if he had expected this all along.
I swallowed hard, my mind still struggling to process what had just happened.
Only moments ago, Noor had been adamant about leaving, throwing her resentment and anger at me like daggers. And yet, when given the chance to walk away, she chose to stay.
Why?
Did she stillâ?
No. I couldn't let myself believe that. Not yet.
"Bhai..." My voice came out rough, my throat painfully dry.
He leaned back in his chair, watching me with sharp, assessing eyes. "So, what did you learn today?" he asked, his tone casual, but his gaze piercing.
I frowned, still trying to make sense of it all. "Bhai, yeh sab kya tha?"
He raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for me to figure it out. "Kya lagta hai tumhe?"
I glanced at the torn pieces of paper scattered across the floor, then back at the door Noor had stormed out of. My pulse was still unsteady.
"You knew she wouldn't sign," I murmured, realization hitting me like a slow-burning flame.
His smirk deepened slightly. "Of course."
A wave of confusion and frustration crashed over me. "Toh phir yeh sab drama kyun?"
His smirk faded as his expression turned serious.
"Because you needed to understand what losing her really feels like." His voice was quieter this time, but the weight behind his words was heavier than ever.
I stiffened, his words sinking deep into my chest.
"Tum uske pyaar ko for granted le chuke the, Zeeshan," he continued, his voice unwavering. "Tumhe laga tha woh bas gusse mein hai, thodi der mein theek ho jayegi. Lekin tumhe yeh samajhna tha ki jab ek aurat ek rishte se haar maan leti hai, tab woh waqai jaane ke liye tayar hoti hai."
A lump formed in my throat.
"She had every reason to leave you," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "She wanted to leave you. But she didn't. And now, tumhare paas ek mauka haiâa real one. What are you going to do with it?"
I let out a shaky breath, running my hands over my face.
Mujhe Zeeshan ko bardasht karna pare toh bhi sahi, lekin yeh gunaah nahi kar sakti...
Her words echoed in my mind.
Even after everything, she still wasn't willing to let go of this relationship completely.
She still hadn't given up.
And that meant I couldn't either.
I wouldn't.
"I won't waste it," I said, my voice stronger, more determined.
Bhai nodded, his eyes softening slightly. "Good." He pushed his chair back and stood up, adjusting his sleeves. "Ab jao, aur apni biwi ko manaane ki koshish karo."
I took a deep breath, standing up. Every part of me knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but I had made up my mind. I wasn't going to let Noor slip away.
As I turned to leave, Bhai's voice stopped me.
"Zeeshan."
I turned back, my breath hitching slightly.
For the first time in weeks, there was something almost affectionate in his expression. A rare, amused glint in his eyes.
"Bardasht nahi, Noor ko jeetne ki sochna."
His words hit me straight in the chest, settling deep within me like an unspoken challenge.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my fingers clenching at my sides.
And then, before I could stop myself, I moved toward him and hugged him.
Tightly.
He stiffened for a brief moment, but then, his hand came up to tap the back of my head, the way he used to whenever I hug him .
It was a small gestureâone that held more comfort and reassurance than any words ever could.
"Zyada emotional hone ki zaroorat nahi hai," he muttered, though his tone was softer now.
A small chuckle escaped me, but I didn't move away just yet.
"Bhai, agar aaj aap nahi hote na, toh shayad sab kuch khatam ho jata." My voice cracked slightly. "Mujhe maaf kar dijiye... maine aapko bhi kho diya tha."
He exhaled, his grip on me tightening briefly before he pulled back just enough to look at me. There was something in his eyesâsomething rare. A softness that I had longed for, one that I hadn't seen in a week.
"Zeeshan," he said, his voice quieter this time.
"Ghaltiyaan sabse hoti hain. Lekin har kisi ko mauka nahi milta unhe sudharne ka." His fingers tapped my forehead lightly. "Maine tumhe woh mauka diya hai. Ab yeh tum par hai ke tum isse dobara barbaad karte ho ya nahi."
I nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat. "Main sab theek karunga, Bhai. Main Noor ko har haal mein manaa lunga."
He studied me for a moment before nodding. But just as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me again.
"Zeeshan."
I turned, and this time, his expression was different. It was stern, serious, but beneath it was the quiet warmth of an elder brother who had seen me stumble too many times.
"Do not break my trust again." His voice was low, firm, filled with a warning I knew better than to ignore. "Warna iss baar maaf nahi karunga. Samjha?"
I stood there, feeling like a little boy again, standing in front of the elder brother I had already idolized. And for the first time in a week, I saw that trust flicker in his eyes againâfragile but real.
I nodded, my voice steady. "Samajh gaya, Bhai."
He gave me one last look before turning away, dismissing me without another word.
But as I stepped out of the office, my chest felt lighter.
For a week, I had felt like I had lost everythingâNoor, Bhai, my own sense of self. But standing here, in this moment, I realized something.
I wasn't alone.
Not yet.
I exhaled deeply, gathering my thoughts.
Noor was still waiting for me.
And this timeâI wouldn't let her down.
Noor stood by the kitchen counter, gulping down water as if she had been parched for ages. Her delicate throat moved with each sip, and for a moment, I simply watched, a small smile playing on my lips.
She was still here.
I stepped closer, the sound of my footsteps barely audible against the floor. Standing right behind her, I leaned in, my breath fanning against her ear as I whispered.
"Ab bhi mujhse pyaar karti ho, na?"
She choked, coughing as she nearly dropped the glass. Spinning around, she shot me a furious glare, her cheeks tinged pink.
"Dimagh kharab ho gaya hai kya?" she snapped, her voice flustered, but there was something beneath that irritationâa flicker of nervousness, of hesitation.
She tried to move past me, but I caught her wrist, pulling her closer. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widening in surprise as she found herself mere inches away from me.
"Agar sach mein pyaar nahi karti, toh phir divorce papers kyun nahi sign kiye, Noor?" My voice was low, filled with a knowing challenge. "Chod deti mujhe. Yeh toh ek perfect mauka tha is rishte se azaad hone ka, hai na?"
She stiffened but said nothing, her silence louder than any words she could have spoken. Her gaze flickered away, but she attempted once more to free herself from my hold.
"Jawab nahi hai, isliye chup ho," I murmured, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Mano ya na mano, Noor, tum mujhse ab bhi pyaar karti ho."
Her eyes snapped back to mine, blazing with defiance.
"In your dreams," she hissed.
"Mujhe sirf ek gunaah se bachna tha. Aur ab jo hoon, woh sirf isliye hoon ke tumhe saza deni hai. mein har din tumhe tumhari galti ka ehsaas dilaungi ho dard tumne mujhe diye hai wou sab tumhe dungi Roz tang karungi tumhe. Itna ke ek din khud tum mujhe maang ke azaad kar doge."
I raised a brow, amused by her determination.
"Chahe tum jitni bhi koshish kar lo, ab tumhe jaane nahi dunga, meri jaan," I whispered against her skin.
Her breath hitched as I lifted her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her fingers.
Noor's face turned scarlet, her breath coming out uneven. She glared at me, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. And thenâbefore I could anticipate itâshe leaned in, sinking her teeth into my wrist.
I hissed at the sudden sting but refused to let go.
She bit harder, her frustration pouring into the action, but I simply held on, enduring it. She wanted to push me away, wanted to punish me, but deep down, I knew the truthâif she really wanted me gone, she would have walked away already.
When she finally pulled back, her chest rose and fell rapidly, her furious gaze meeting mine.
I let go of her wrist.
For a brief second, she hesitated, as if waiting for me to grab her again. But when I didn't, she turned on her heel and ran.
I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched her retreating figure, the way she hurried away like a storm ready to destroy everything in its pathâexcept, this time, she wasn't running away from me. Not really.
A smirk tugged at my lips as I looked down at my wrist where she had bitten me. The skin was reddened, marked with her frustration, her anger. Her emotions.
And yet, she had stayed.
My Noor.
She could glare at me, she could fight me, she could try to push me away all she wanted. But she couldn't leave me. She wouldn't.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair as a deep chuckle escaped me.
"Tou madam ab mujhe tang karengi?" I murmured to myself, shaking my head.
"Mujhe tang karne ke liye mere kareeb rehna parega, Noor."
And that was exactly what I wanted.
She had given me a reason to fight.
I turned on my heel, walking in the direction she had disappeared, my smirk widening. She could try to punish me all she wanted, but I wasn't going to break.
She was mine.
And this time, I would make sure she never doubted it.
The kitchen was a messâflour dusted across the counter, tomato sauce splattered near the stove, and a chaotic mix of ingredients scattered around me. But I refused to let that distract me.
My phone was propped up against a jar of spices, a YouTube tutorial playing as I carefully followed each step, my brows furrowed in determination.
I was going to make pasta.
Not just any pastaâred sauce pasta, the hard one. And all because my good-for-nothing husband had challenged me, claiming I lacked something just because I couldn't cook.
As if!
I had proudly told him I was perfect at everything, and he had the audacity to smirk and say, "Haan? Toh pasta bana ke dikhao phir."
I knew he was teasing me. His eyes danced with mischief, his lips twitching as he waited for me to huff in defeat. But how could I back down? My pride was at stake.
So, I took up the challenge. And ifâno, whenâI won, he would have to do whatever I said.
That thought alone fueled my determination as I stirred the sauce, biting my lip when the consistency didn't seem quite right. Why was this so difficult?
I had never in my life felt the need to prove myself to anyone. And yet, here I was, battling a stubborn pot of sauce, all because of him.
Maybe it was the way he had shown up at my hospital todayâroses in hand, a lazy smile on his lips, flirting with me as if we were newly in love. The warmth in his eyes, the way he had looked at me...
Something about it had made my heart soften.
Flashback
The quiet hum of the hospital filled the air as I flipped through a patient's chart, my focus entirely on the details in front of me. The fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow, the rhythmic beeping of monitors creating a familiar background noise.
Just as I reached for my pen, the door creaked open. A slow, deliberate sound. I glanced up, expecting a nurse or another patientâonly to find him standing there.
Sufiyaan.
His usual smug grin was firmly in place, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned against the doorframe.
"Sufiyaan?"
"Hey beautiful Doctor," he drawled, stepping inside with a casual confidence that only he could pull off. "I've come to see you."
I raised a skeptical eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Sufiyaan, what are you doing here? You're not a patient, are you?"
He chuckled, strolling toward the examination table as if he belonged there. "Actually, I am. I've been feeling a little... off lately."
I sighed, already sensing the mischief in his tone. "Tumhe kya hua hai?"
His gaze met mine, playful yet unwavering. "Mera Dil," he said, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically.
"It beats faster whenever I think about a certain someone. I haven't been sleeping well. And there's this... flutter in my stomach."
I fought back a smile, tilting my head. "Sounds serious. Who's the certain someone causing all this distress?"
Sufiyaan smirked, stepping closer. "You know exactly who I'm talking about, Doctor Hala Sufiyaan Sikandar"
A warmth spread across my cheeks, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. "Sufiyaan, you're not exactly the type to come to a hospital for love sickness," I teased, narrowing my eyes at him.
He chuckled, his voice low and smooth. "Maybe not, but I figured it was worth a shot. After all, I've heard that doctors make the best lovers."
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at his audacity. "Tum pagal ho, Sufiyaan."
Before he could respond, the door opened again, and a nurse stepped in, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. "Doctor Hala, these were just delivered for you."
I was surprised, but Sufiyaan just smiled and took the flowers from the nurse. "I figured you deserved a little pick-me-up, Doctor Hala. After all, you're always taking care of everyone else. It's time someone took care of you."
I felt my heart melt at his thoughtful gesture, and I couldn't help but smile at him. "Thank you, Me Sikandar. You're too kind."
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm just trying to get on your good side, Doctor Hala. After all, I have a feeling that I'm going to need your expertise to cure my...condition."
I laughed, shaking my head. "I think you're just fine, Sufiyaan. But I'll make sure to keep an eye on you, just in case."
Sufiyaan's eyes locked on mine, his gaze intense. "I'm counting on it, Doctor. I'm counting on you to fix my heart."
I felt a flutter in my chest at his words, and I knew that I was in trouble. "Sufiyaan, you're not making this easy for me," I said, trying to sound stern.
He chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm not trying to make it easy for you, Biww. I'm trying to make it impossible for you to resist me."
I rolled my eyes, laughing. "You're impossible, Sufiyaan."
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's what makes me so charming isn't it Doctor."
Just then, a nurse walked in with a chart. "Doctor Hala, your next patient is ready."
I nodded, taking the chart from the nurse. "Thank you."
Sufiyaan stood up, his eyes never leaving mine. "Chali Main tumhe tumhare kaam par wapas jaane deta hoon, Doctor. Magar yeh mat sochna ke tumne mujhe aakhri baar dekha hai mein phirse asakta hoon."
I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest. "I'm counting on it, Sufiyaan."
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'll be back, Doctor Hala. And next time, I won't be so easy to get rid of."
With that, he moved closer and kissed my forehead making my stomach flipped and turned and walked out of the hospital room, leaving me feeling flustered and confused.
And now, here I wasâdetermined to make him happy, even if it meant fighting with pasta.
I was busy struggling with my so-called "masterpiece" in the kitchen when the door opened, and Hayaan Bhai stepped inside. The moment his gaze landed on me, his eyes widened in shock. He looked utterly taken aback, as if he'd just walked into a war zone.
"Sab khair hai na? Yeh kya haal banaya hai apne?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. His sharp eyes darted between my flustered expression, the mess on the counter, and the knife in my hand. Before I could respond, he swiftly took the knife from meâprobably worried I might end up slicing my own fingers in this chaos.
"Main cooking kar rahi hoon!" I declared proudly, puffing my chest like I had just invented fire.
He didn't seem impressed. Instead, his nose twitched slightly as he sniffed the air. "Jal raha hai kuch?" he asked suspiciously.
Meri jaan mein jaan tab aayi jab mujhe bhi jalan ki boo mehsoos hui. I turned to see my pastaâmy hard work, my prideâburning in the pan. My eyes widened in horror.
"Arghh, mera pasta!" I shrieked, but before I could react, Bhai had already pushed me aside, grabbed the smoking pan, and dumped it into the sink. A thick cloud of smoke burst out, making us both cough.
"Mera dil bhi jal raha hai shayad," I muttered dramatically, rubbing my stinging eyes.
Hayaan Bhai frowned, giving me a pointed look. "Agar banana nahi aata toh phir cook kyun karahii hain app?" he asked in his usual straight, no-nonsense tone.
I folded my arms, feeling frustrated. "Mujhe koi shauq nahi hai! Aapke bewakoof bhai ne challenge diya tha mujhe cooking ka. Bataiye? Jab pata hai mujhe nahi aata, toh aise kaam kyun de raha hai mujhe?" I huffed, crossing my arms.
"Galat hai," he commented casually.
"Haan, galat toh woh hai hiâ" I started, but he cut me off.
"Nahi, main recipe ki baat kar raha hoon," he said, making me frown in confusion.
I stared at him, unsure of what to say. "Ab main pasta phir se banu?" I asked hesitantly.
He shook his head, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt. Then, to my utter disbelief, he grabbed an apron and tied it around his waist.
"Main bana deta hoon," he said simply.
My jaw nearly hit the floor. "Aap banayenge? Aapko cooking aati hai?" I asked, utterly shocked.
He didn't respond, just nodded before turning to the ingredients with practiced ease. I watched, completely mesmerized, as he chopped, stirred, and cooked with a skill that I never imagined he had. He moved effortlessly, like he had done this a hundred times before.
By the time he plated the pasta and placed it on the slab, I was still staring at him with my mouth slightly open. He removed his apron, as if this was nothing new for him.
"Waise... aap Bhabhi ko lene kab jaayenge?" I asked, trying to act casual, but my eyes carefully observed his reaction.
The moment I mentioned Bhabhi, something shifted in his expression. His body stilled, and a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.
"Jab woh aana chahengi tab le aunga," he said in a low voice, avoiding my gaze.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Aap pagal hain kya? Aapko kuch samajh nahi aata?" I blurted out, unable to control myself.
Hayaan Bhai snapped his head up, clearly taken aback by my bluntness. "Sorry?" he asked, his brows raising in surprise.
"You should be," I replied nonchalantly, then realized what he was actually asking aboutâmy words and tone. My eyes widened slightly, and I cleared my throat.
"Umm... sorry for my words," I corrected, trying to sound more reasonable. "Lekin aapko unko lene jaana chahiye. Woh aapka wait kar rahi hongi, ke kab aap khud aayenge lene."
He didn't respond immediately, but I noticed the way his fingers clenched slightly. His face remained unreadable, but I knew my words had hit somewhere deep.
I crossed my arms, staring at him as he wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, clearly trying to avoid my gaze. But I wasn't letting him off that easily.
"Hayaan Bhai, aapko lagta hai ke Bhabhi khud waapis aayengi? Khud se?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He glanced at me briefly before looking away. "Jab woh aana chahengi, tab aajayengi," he repeated, his voice calm but distant.
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Aapko sach mein lagta hai ke woh aana nahi chahti?"
This time, he frowned slightly but still didn't respond. I took a step closer, determination burning in my chest.
"Bhai, ladkiyan aise nahi hoti," I said gently. "Aairah Bhabhi aapka intezaar kar rahi hain. Woh dekh rahi hain ke aap kitni koshish karte hain, kitna importance dete hain is rishte ko. Yeh unka tareeqa hai jaanne ka ke aapke dil mein unki kya jagah hai."
His jaw clenched slightly, but he stayed quiet. I knew I was getting through to him.
"Hum ladkiyan chahti hain ke jo humse pyaar karta hai, woh khud aayega, humse baat karega, humein manayega," I continued.
"Bhabhi bhi yahi chahti hain. Aapko khud unke paas jaana chahiye. Unse kehna chahiye ke aap unke bina nahi reh sakte, ke aapko unki zaroorat hai."
Hayaan Bhai's fingers tightened around the kitchen towel. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the war going on inside him.
"Jab kisi ka pyaar sachha hota hai, na, toh ego ya zid ki jagah nahi hoti. Bas dil hota hai, jo chahta hai ke saamne wala hamesha paas rahe," I added softly. "Aur Bhabhi sirf yahi dekhna chahti hain ke aap sirf kehne ko nahi, sach mein unke bina adhure hain."
There was a heavy silence between us. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the weight of my words settling in.
Finally, he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Ap itna sab kaise jaanti hain?" he asked, his voice low.
I grinned. "Main ladki hoon, mujhe sab pata hota hai or smart bhii hoon."
He shook his head slightly, as if processing everything, then gave me one last glance before turning towards the door. I knew then that my words had reached him. He might not admit it, but he had understood.
To lighten the mood, I smirked and held out my hand. "Toh maine aapko samjhaya, aur aapne mera pasta banaya. Hisaab barabar! Ab aap Sufiyaan ko mat batana ke yeh aapne banaya hai. Deal?"
He raised a brow at me before finally shaking my hand, a rare amused glint in his eyes.
"Par main waise bhi nahi batane wala tha usko kuch," he said, pulling his hand away and walking off, leaving me standing there, my mouth hanging open.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, staring at the perfect plate of pasta he had just made.
I stepped into the room, carefully balancing the plate of pasta in my hands, a proud smile playing on my lips. Sufiyaan was seated on the couch, his focus entirely on the file in his hands, flipping through the pages with ease. I cleared my throat, expecting him to at least acknowledge my effort, but he remained unfazed.
With a little huff, I extended the plate towards him. "Lo, tumhara pasta."
Without sparing a glance at the dish, he absentmindedly took the plate from my hands and scooped a bite into his mouth. My jaw nearly dropped at his complete lack of reaction.
"Areh, dekh tou lo!" I protested, crossing my arms.
Finally, he lifted his gaze, his dark eyes meeting mine with an unreadable expression. Then, his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. "Haan, achi lag rahi ho." His gaze shamelessly trailed over me, lingering a little too long.
I blinked in confusion, before glancing down at myself. My clothes were a mess, covered in bits of flour and sauce, my sleeves rolled up haphazardly.
A few loose strands had escaped my high ponytail, sticking to my forehead. I must have looked completely ridiculous.
Meri aankhein widened as realization dawned.
"Main khane ki baat kar rahi hoon!" I exclaimed, flustered.
He tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his gaze. "Main bhi khane ki baat kar raha hoon," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.
My breath stopped for a second . My cheeks burned at the double meaning behind his words.
"S-Sufiyaan!" I stammered, eyes wide in shock.
His deep chuckle filled the room as he took another bite, savoring the taste. Then, with absolute confidence, he declared, "Pasta bohot acha hai... yaqeenaan tumne nahi banaya yeh."
I gasped, placing my hands on my hips. "Excuse me?! Tumhe lagta hai ke maine nahi banaya?"
He simply shrugged, taking another casual bite. "Hala, tumse cooking ka koi waasta nahi hai. Aur yeh jo perfect balance of flavors hai... yeh tumhare haathon ka kaam nahi lagta."
I gasped dramatically, placing a hand on my chest. "Wow, yani agar maine kuch acha banaya ho, toh woh maine bana hi nahi sakti?"
He leaned slightly closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Bilkul."
I huffed, snatching the fork from his hand. "Theek hai, ab khud bana lena!"
He chuckled, effortlessly taking the fork back. "Bohat naraz horahi ho... iska matlab sach pakad liya maine?"
I looked away, chewing on my lip. He had, of course. "Fine," I admitted. "Hayaan Bhai ne madad ki thi. Lekin idea mera tha!"
Sufiyaan smirked. "Haan, jaise Eiffel Tower ka idea kisi ka tha, aur kisi aur ne banaya."
I glared at him. "Tumhe na, ek din maar padne wali hai."
He just laughed, shaking his head. "Tum jo bhi kaho, par pasta kamaal ka hai. Next time tum sirf dekhna, aur banayega koi aur."
I frowned. "Tum kabhi bhi mujhse impress kyun nahi hotay?"
He put the plate aside and stepped closer, his gaze softening.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he stepped closer, his presence warm and overwhelming. His deep brown eyes held an intensity that made my breath hitch.
"Hala, mein tumse already impressed hoon," he murmured, his voice husky as his fingers reached for my hair. "Yeh sab karne ki koi zaroorat nahi tumhe... tum jaise ho, mujhe waise hi achi lagti ho, meri chudail."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. My heart pounded as he slowly pulled the band from my hair, letting the strands tumble down my back in soft waves.
His fingers grazed my cheek, brushing away the flour smeared on my skin with slow, deliberate strokes. His touch was gentle, lingering, as if memorizing every inch of my face.
His eyes darkened as he carefully tucked my hair behind my ear, letting the silky strands cascade around my neck. Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over my cheek before pressing a soft kiss on one side... and then the other.
I closed my eyes, melting into the warmth of his touch, my body betraying me as my fingers curled into fists at my sides. His scentâwoody and faintly spicedâwrapped around me, pulling me deeper into the moment.
When I finally opened my eyes, he was watching me, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Ab batao, mujhe kya karna hoga?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I blinked in confusion. "Kya matlab?"
He chuckled, reaching up to brush his thumb over my lower lip before placing a finger gently over it. "Mera matlab yeh hai ke main toh pehle hi haar gaya hoon," he murmured, tilting his head. "Tumne jeet liya, Hala. Pasta tou acha bana na?"
I burst into laughter, shaking my head at his teasing. His lips twitched into a smile as he watched me, his gaze softening.
Unable to resist, I leaned forward, resting my head against his shoulder. My arms instinctively wrapped around his torso, holding him close.
For a moment, he stiffened, as if caught off guard. But then, slowly, his arms circled around me, pulling me into his warmth. His hold was firm yet careful, as though he was afraid to break me if he held on too tightly.
A deep sigh left my lips. "Sufiyaan," I whispered against his chest, my voice steady yet vulnerable, "is baar main sach mein humare rishte ko ek mauka dena chahti hoon."
He froze.
I pulled back slightly, looking up to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but the flicker of hope in his eyes made my heart ache.
"I'm ready to tell you everything... kyunki main tumhe apni zindagi mein chahti hoon," I admitted softly.
His grip on me loosened slightly, and he took a small step back, searching my face as if making sure he had heard me right.
"Sach?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. Without giving him a chance to react further, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer until our noses brushed against each other.
He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening in surprise.
"So," I murmured, my breath fanning his lips, "tonight, be there at the place I text you. 8 o'clock sharp. Samjhe?"
His brows lifted slightly. "Yeh tum mujhe date pe bulane ki koshish kar rahi ho ya dhamki de rahi ho ke aana hi hai?"
I smirked, my fingers still gripping his shirt. "Main tumhe order de rahi hoon ke tumhe aana hai. Ab isey request samjho ya dhamki, yeh tumhari marzi."
Sufiyaan let out a deep laugh, the sound vibrating against my skin. Before I could step back, he wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me into a tight hug. This time, I didn't hesitate. I melted into his embrace, closing my eyes as I breathed him in.
For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace.
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