24| Baat Pakki

I knew this story possessed fragments of mishaps, the moment mom called me herself and escorted me home.

She wouldn't call me for any reason that doesn't include my grades. With closed eyes, I can declare that she has something ridiculous under her sleeves that won't turn out pleasant for me.

Now, I stand in my room, slipping into a dress I didn't choose, the fabric feeling foreign on my skin. Next to me is a box of jewelry that sparkles too brightly for a casual evening. Mom had placed it on my bed as if this was some sort of ceremony, and I'm still not entirely sure what I'm dressing for.

Mom didn't spare a few minutes to chat with me about the day I spent in university or congratulate me for the top spot I acquired in the last test.

Thousand questions are being raised back to back in my mind, but none of them are answered. My instinct does produce a doubt that what if????? No no no Ayra...this isn't going to happen!! Without my consent? No chance.

Not only I'm clad in this extremely hard to handle dress but mom advised the girls to get ready along with me. Having no time to buy their outfits, they hijacked my wardrobe which is totally fine as this is girl math.

Parallel to our dorm room, our make-up routine is no less than a warzone. Maha and Inaya are struggling to design a perfect liner due to the lack of sufficient mirrors, while Hoorain is fussing about the absence of matching bangles.

Inaya strides towards me, clutching two different jhumkas "Ayra which one?" She asks placing them near her ears.

"Yaar why are we doing this!!! I'm getting ready like a pastry and mom won't even tell me what's going on" I whine, stomping my feet on the ground. There is no point in me getting ready or decorating the entire house.. so why?

"Hehe I like pastries" Maha teases, holding out a lipstick tube and gesturing for me to open my mouth. I resist for a second before giving in with an exaggerated sigh. She expertly applies a coat of nude lipstick, smirking as she steps back. "There, perfect. Your lips should look kissable in case a proposal is coming."

I immediately smack my lips together, making a face "oh please, like I'm dying to be kissed which I'm not"

There's no sense in debating about it as it's clearly obvious what mom's UpTo, but I need to have one on one conversation with her. I've endured every harsh demands of her but this is my life, I should have a say in at least my marriage.

Inaya clicks her tongue, still holding the jhumkas. "Oh, don't be dramatic, Ayra. Choose one, before I end up wearing two mismatched ones."

"Go with the silver," Hoorain pipes up from where she's sitting cross-legged on the bed, untangling a mess of bangles. "Gold doesn't compliment it. And besides, we should look perfect it can be our bestie's proposal"

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Hoor," I mutter, fidgeting with the sleeves of my dress. "C'mon guys y'all are enjoying this!"

"Of course, we're enjoying this" Hoorain says, grinning as she finally frees the bangles and hands me a set. "It's not every day we see Ayra the Great stomping around like an annoyed princess. This is pure entertainment."

"Entertainment for whom exactly?" I snap, taking the bangles from her with a glare. "Because it sure isn't entertaining for me! I'm suffocating in this dress, my earrings are stabbing me, and now you're telling me my lips need to look-what was it again, Maha?-kissable?!"

Maha shrugs with a grin, completely unfazed by my frustration. "Hey, just trying to prepare you for all possibilities, babe. What if some tall, dark, and handsome guy walks through the door and falls madly in love with you? You'll want to be ready."

Inaya nods, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Yeah, you'll thank us when Mr. Perfect gets down on one knee and proposes. Just imagine, Ayra Shaikh, bride-to-be."

I groan, rolling my eyes as I grab the bangle set from Hoorain. "You all have lost your minds. This isn't some fairytale, and I'm not Cinderella waiting for Prince Charming. No one's gonna fall magically especially for me"

"Nonsense you're looking drop dead gorgeous, if I was a man trust me Ayra I would've married you ASAP" Hoorain says while searching bangles that would look good with her blue dress, this girl literally wears blue everywhere.

Maha's eyes light up with mischief as she suddenly grabs a dupatta from the pile of clothes on the bed and dramatically throws it over her head. "Oh ho, guys just imagine Ayra and dulha Bhai" she exclaims, fluttering her lashes and pretending to act shy.

Inaya catches on instantly, straightening up and puffing out her chest. She grabs a random jacket and slings it over her shoulder like some macho guy. "Hey Ayra jaan" she says in a deep, exaggerated voice, striding around the room like she's just entered the world's most formal proposal meeting.

I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at the two of them, but before I can say anything, Maha is already pretending to bring in an imaginary tray, balancing it delicately with both hands. "Jee would you like some tea?" she says in a mock shy tone, sneaking a look at me, her lips twitching with amusement. She even starts pretending to arrange the tea cups on the invisible tray with ridiculous precision.

"Oh my God," I mutter, already feeling the laughter bubbling up, but trying to hold it in.

Inaya clears her throat and steps forward, holding her chin high, attempting a deep, serious expression. "I would like to marry you" she says in the most fake serious voice, her lips twitching as she tries not to burst out laughing herself.

Maha dramatically adjusts the dupatta on her head, like a shy me, which I'll never be. "Mujhe qabool ha" Maha exclaims and runs like a shy bride.

I try to glare at them, but my lips are already twitching, and before I know it, I'm snorting with laughter alongside Hoorain. "You guys are ridiculous! Seriously?!" I exclaim, unable to keep a straight face any longer.

Inaya, still pretending to be the groom, adjusts her imaginary tie, turning to look at me with what can only be described as the most ridiculous 'romantic' face I've ever seen. "Ayra dear you should prepare yourself because raja ki ayegi baraat" she says, her voice so serious that I can't help but burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"This scene should be in the proposal" Hoorain proposes while applying the last coat of blush.

These girls are literally the best, they know how to clear off the dust when I'm feeling low. However, I've mentally prepared myself to face mom's wrath, let's face whatever she has planned ahead. The main question still lingers who the hell is coming to see me?

✯✯✯✯

AYRA'S DRESS

INAYA'S DRESS

HOORAIN'S DRESS

MAHA'S DRESS

✯✯✯✯

I hear my mother's heels clicking on the marble floor before she even enters the room, the rest of the girls already had left for pictures. Mom's presence is always felt-like a storm cloud looming, just waiting to unleash. She steps into my room, her eyes sweeping over me with an almost critical gaze before she nods in approval of my appearance.

"Ayra, don't think you can make a joke out of this. You're not supposed to make fun of me," she says sharply, her voice as cool as ever.

I scoff. "Make fun of you? Mom, you're dressing me up like a doll, and you won't even tell me why! You're arranging my marriage, aren't you?" The words spill out before I can stop them, and for a moment, I hope she'll deny it. I hope she'll say it's something else-anything else.

But she doesn't.

"Yes," she says, her tone calm and matter-of-fact, like she's just announced what's for dinner. "I have."

I blink, my heart sinking into my stomach. "Mom, you didn't even ask me! I don't know who this person is, and you're talking about this like it's no big deal!" My voice rises, the frustration and betrayal bubbling to the surface. This can't be real. It's like I'm trapped in a bad dream.

She narrows her eyes, her lips pursing into a thin line. "I'm doing what's best for you, Ayra. The person I've chosen is the best option for you-someone respectable, someone with a future. Besides, it's your age. You're not getting any younger, and I want the burden off my shoulders as soon as possible."

My jaw drops at her words, each one more painful than the last. "Burden?" I echo, my voice trembling. "Is that what I am to you? A burden you need to get rid of?"

She sighs, exasperated. "Ayra, stop being dramatic. Every mother has to make these decisions for their daughter. You're lucky I'm handling everything for you. This is how things work."

I feel the walls closing in on me, the weight of her expectations and the suffocating reality of it all crushing down on my chest. "You can't just decide my life like this! I have plans, dreams-things I want to do! You can't just-"

"Enough," she snaps, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You'll do what I say, Ayra. I've raised you, provided for you despite the challenges, and now I'm securing your future. This is not up for debate."

I stare at her, disbelief washing over me. My hands are trembling, my mind is racing. How can she be so blind to what I want, to who I am? It feels like my entire life is being mapped out without me even being consulted.

"You know Ayra that man has a future, he's capable to achieve the dreams unlike you, I don't have time to waste so you'll come over there and behave!"

I nod trying to tell myself that I'm not supposed to cry right now... It'll spoil my makeup and mom's mood. Maybe I was never meant to achieve the untold dreams... Marrying is the last choice I'm supposed to make in return for whatever mom had endured because of me.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

I sit down on the edge of the couch, my head spinning from everything that just happened. My friends are all gathered around, their faces a mix of confusion, anger, and disbelief. Inaya, Hoorain, and Maha exchange looks, clearly waiting for me to explain myself.

"She really said that?" Hoorain asks, her eyes wide with disbelief.

I nod slowly, my gaze fixed on the floor. "Yeah, she said it. I'm supposed to marry this guy, and apparently, it's already decided."

Maha jumps up from her seat, her fists clenched. "What the hell, Ayra? How can she do that without even asking you? Who does she think she is?"

Inaya's usually calm demeanor is nowhere to be found. She crosses her arms and paces back and forth. "This is insane! You're not some pawn she can just move around on a chessboard. What century is she living in?"

I exhale deeply, trying to keep my emotions in check. "I know, guys. I know. But... it's okay. I'll marry him. I'll do it."

The room falls silent, and my friends stare at me like I've just said something unthinkable. Maha's mouth opens and closes, trying to find the right words, while Inaya freezes mid-step, her eyebrows furrowing. Hoorain is the first to speak.

"Ayra, you can't be serious. You don't have to do this," she says, her voice soft but firm.

I force a smile, though I can feel the weight of their concern. "It's fine, Hoor. It's not like I had much of a choice anyway. She's already made up her mind. If I don't agree, it'll just make things worse."

"No," Inaya says, sitting down beside me and grabbing my hand. "You deserve better than this. You can't just let her control your life like this."

Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them away. "It's not that simple. She's my mom. And as much as I hate it, this is the way she's always been. I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it right!" Maha protests, sitting on my other side. She wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I can feel the warmth of her support, but also the anger simmering beneath the surface.

"I know," I whisper, my voice cracking. "But what am I supposed to do? I don't want to fight with her anymore. I'm tired, guys. I'm so tired of always having to argue, of trying to prove myself. Maybe if I just go along with it, things will be easier."

Inaya's eyes soften, and she pulls me into a tight hug. "Ayra, I hate this. I hate that you feel like this is your only option. You deserve to be happy, not stuck in a marriage you didn't even choose."

"I'll be okay," I say, my voice muffled against her shoulder. "I'll figure it out."

Hoorain joins the hug, squeezing us both. "We hate your mom so much right now. But no matter what happens, we're here for you. Always."

"Yeah," Maha says, her voice a little softer now. "You're not alone in this. If you need anything, we'll be there. Even if it's just to vent about how awful she's being."

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat as I pull back from the embrace. "Thanks, guys. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Maha smiles, but her eyes still flash with anger. "Well, I still hate her. But we'll get through this together."

For the first time today, I manage a small, genuine smile.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

The moment I step into the drawing room, my heart pounds wildly in my chest. The soft glow of lights reflecting off the walls makes the whole place feel surreal. My fingers twist nervously around the fabric of my dress, and I can feel my friends close behind, their silent support giving me some strength to face whatever horror awaits on the other side of the door. My mother stands nearby, flashing her most gracious smile, eager to showcase her daughter to the guests.

But as I lift my eyes to the people sitting on the velvet couch, my world tilts on its axis.

My breath catches in my throat, and I blink rapidly, unable to trust my own sight. No, this can't be real. My heart feels like it's lodged in my throat as I stare at the familiar figure, his arrogant smirk nowhere to be seen. Zaid Mirza. My worst nightmare. My academic rival. The guy who has annoyed and challenged me at every turn since the day we met.

What the hell is he doing here?

For a split second, I think I'm hallucinating. My fingers twitch as I discreetly pinch my arm. Nope. It hurts. This is real. Zaid Mirza is sitting right there, his usually cocky posture tense, and he looks just as stunned as I feel. Our eyes lock in mutual disbelief, and my pulse races faster. The world seems to shrink around us, and suddenly, it's just him and me-enemy number one, sitting in my living room.

I can't look away, and judging by the dumbfounded expression on his face, neither can he.

Behind me, Inaya gasps audibly. "No way... is that-?"

Hoorain leans in closer, whispering in disbelief. "Oh. My. God. It is him."

Maha mutters under her breath, "Of all people, it had to be ZAID MIRZA. This is insane."

My mother's voice snaps me out of the frozen moment, her tone filled with fake sweetness. "Ayra, come forward, dear. These are our guests for the evening." Her eyes flicker toward Zaid's family, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me.

As I force myself to move, I glance at the rest of the group sitting with Zaid-his mother, father, his sister Zahra, and... Ayan, his cousin. bastard is hiding his face deep in the couch while his body moves indicating the fits of laughter. While Zahra glances between Zaid and me, clearly picking up on the tension. Zaid's parents sit calmly, unaware of the silent war that's brewing between their son and me.

Zaid is still staring at me, his mouth slightly open as if he's trying to process what's happening. I can't help but glare at him. How did this happen? Of all people, how could he be the one my mother picked?

My voice is stuck in my throat, and I desperately want to scream, to demand answers, but I know I can't. Not in front of everyone.

Inaya leans in and whispers, "This is a joke, right? It has to be."

Hoorain shakes her head in disbelief. "This is a nightmare. A literal nightmare."

Maha folds her arms, her lips set in a thin line. "I swear if this is some twisted prank from the universe, I'm not laughing."

As I stand there, frozen in place, Zaid finally tears his eyes away from mine and looks at his parents, clearly as confused as I am. His jaw clenches, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Before I can even think of what to say, my mother speaks again, still oblivious to the tension between us. "Ayra, this is Zaid Mirza and his family. Zaid's mother and I have been getting to know each other, we thought you and Zaid would get along"

I clench my fists, trying to hold back my fury. Get to know each other better? Mom knows he's my enemy and she's trying to get me with HIM!!!!!!

Zaid takes a breath, and for the first time since I've known him, I see something different in his eyes-shock, confusion, maybe even a little bit of... regret?

Ayan, always the one to break the tension, snickers from his seat. "Well, this just got a lot more interesting."

Zaid shoots him a look, clearly not in the mood for his cousin's jokes, and I see the slight twitch of his hand, like he's resisting the urge to rub his temples.

The tension in the room crackles like static, and I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears. Zaid. Of all people. My academic rival, the bane of my existence, sitting right here with his perfectly composed face, while I'm barely holding myself together. It takes every ounce of self control for me not to scream and run.

I notice Zaid's mother giving me a warm smile. "Ayra, dear, it's been such a long time since we saw you. I remember how well you did during your internship at our company. Zaid's father and I have always admired your work ethic."

I force a polite smile, even though my insides are screaming. Great, they already love me. Perfect. I steal a glance at Zaid, who is still staring at me, his expression unreadable, except for the barely concealed confusion in his eyes.

Ayan, sitting smugly next to Zaid, leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. "So, Ayra, this must be your lucky day. Zaid's going to be part of your life now, huh?" He chuckles, clearly enjoying every second of this bizarre situation.

My friends, standing awkwardly behind me, exchange looks, trying to stifle their laughter. Inaya raises an eyebrow at me, silently mouthing, You okay? I give her the smallest nod, though I'm far from okay.

Zaid glances at me again, his brow furrowing slightly. He looks like he's about to say something, but before he can, my mother, who is oblivious to the storm brewing between us, turns to me with a too-sweet smile.

"Ayra, darling, why don't you pass the juice around to everyone? Be a good host, won't you?"

I freeze for a moment, feeling the weight of her request sink in. My eyes dart toward the tray of juice sitting on the table. I force another smile, masking the irritation bubbling under the surface. "Of course, Mom," I say, my voice laced with false cheerfulness.

As I grab the tray and approach Zaid, an evil idea sparks in my mind. You want to play nice? Let's see how you handle this.

I walk over to him, gripping the glass tightly, and as I hand it to him, I "accidentally" let the juice slip from my hand. The glass tips, and the cold liquid splashes directly onto his pristine white kurta.

Zaid flinches, looking down at the growing stain with a mix of shock and disbelief. He jerks his head up, his dark eyes narrowing at me. "What the-?"

I blink innocently, barely suppressing the smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Oops, I didn't see you there." My voice is dripping with sarcasm, and I can't help but revel in the satisfaction of his glare.

My friends try to contain their laughter, while Zaid's parents exchange concerned glances, clearly not understanding the underlying tension. Ayan, on the other hand, lets out a bark of laughter, clapping his hands together. "Oh, this is too good!"

Zaid, however, looks ready to strangle me, his jaw clenched tightly as he tries to control his temper.

Before he can say anything, my mother steps in, her eyes narrowing at me disapprovingly. "Ayra, what's wrong with you? Be more careful!" She sighs in exasperation before turning to Zaid. "Zaid, I'm so sorry. Why don't you let Ayra show you to the restroom so you can clean up?"

I blink, taken aback. Wait, what? The satisfaction I felt moments ago evaporates instantly, replaced by dread. Zaid's eyes flick to mine, and I can tell he's not thrilled about this idea either.

Zaid stands up, the damp stain on his kurta sticking to his chest, and gestures toward me with a pointed look. "Lead the way," he says, his voice steady but edged with frustration.

I grit my teeth, turning on my heel as I mutter under my breath. "Great, just great." My friends exchange amused looks, clearly enjoying this more than they should. I can hear Maha whispering something to Inaya, who's doing her best not to burst out laughing.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

Zaid emerges from the restroom, dabbing the damp spot on his kurta with a towel. His eyes lock onto mine, and there's that familiar fire in them-our typical rivalry, ready to reignite.

"Tell your parents to say no," I blurt out before he can say anything, arms crossed, glaring at him. I'm not about to let this insane situation spiral even more out of control. "You know this is ridiculous."

Zaid raises an eyebrow, slowly folding the towel and placing it on the counter. He smirks, that infuriating smirk that always makes me want to throw something. "Oh, so now you want me to handle things? The great Ayra finally needs help?"

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I don't need your help, Zaid. I don't want to marry you! A husband like you cheeee I'll die"

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed in a mirrored stance, looking completely unfazed. "As if I'm dying to have a wife like you. Trust me I would rather stay bachelor my entire life"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Just imagine me and you" I gesture towards us "we have no match I'm there" I point towards the sky, "and you're way down low" I stomp my feet.

Zaid laughs, lowering his head down habitually "it's funny how you're still talking like this. C'mon Ayra perfect wives don't act like this"

I raise my hand to add emphasis "oh please! Not even in my dream"

"Exactly sweetheart this is happening in reality not dreams" he smirks and for a fraction of second I'd think that he really wants to marry me.

I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. "Sweetheart?" I scoff, mimicking his tone. "Who even gave you the right to call me that? I'm more like your worst nightmare!"

Zaid chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Sure, sure. Keep convincing yourself. But you know you should worry more about choosing colors for your wedding outfits"

I glare at him, stepping closer. "Please, if I had to pick, I'd choose black to mourn my fate!"

He smirks, leaning down to my level, "Black suits me, so I'd look good either way. Think about yourself Ayra, you look ugly in any color"

I roll my eyes, pushing his shoulder. "Listen, Zaid, just tell your parents 'no.' You're their golden boy; they'll listen. If we got married, I'd spend my life plotting ways to ruin yours. Not worth it, trust me!"

He tilts his head, grinning like a smug idiot. "If that's your way of saying you'll spend your life with me, it's adorable."

"Are you delusional?" I throw my hands up in frustration. "How do you even live with yourself?"

Zaid puts a hand on his heart dramatically. "By imagining how peaceful it would be if you'd stop talking for once."

"Funny," I say with a smirk, "I was imagining how peaceful it'd be if you disappeared into thin air."

"Too bad for you, I'm very much here," he says, stepping even closer, that infuriating grin still plastered on his face. "And let's be real, Ayra, you wouldn't survive without having someone to fight with. Admit it. You'd be bored without me."

"Bored?" I snort. "I would throw a party if you vanished!"

I blink. " Anyways that's not the point, Zaid! The point is-"

"The point is, you're stuck with me," he interrupts, flashing a cocky grin. "Better get used to the idea."

"You know what?" I jab my finger at him. "I'd rather jump out of a plane without a parachute than marry you."

Zaid leans back, crossing his arms casually. "Perfect. My parents will be thrilled to hear how eager you are to join the family."

I groan, throwing my hands up. "Why are you like this? Why ca'nt you just say no?"

He shrugs. "Because watching you squirm is more fun. Plus, you haven't convinced me yet."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You want me to convince you? Fine. Imagine waking up every day to my face scowling at you. Imagine me judging you for every tiny thing, from the way you brush your teeth to the way you breathe."

Zaid looks unbothered, his smirk growing wider. "Sounds kinda hot, not gonna lie."

I stare at him in disbelief. "You're impossible."

"That's why you'd never get bored with me," he says, winking.

I groan again, this time more dramatically. "For the last time, Zaid, just tell your parents no! Or I swear, I'll make your life miserable."

"Too late, you already do," he quips, walking past me, laughing. "But thanks for the heads up, wifey."

Zaid starts walking down the hallway, still chuckling to himself. I stand there, absolutely boiling inside. Why is he like this? Why does he want to marry me? This is the same guy who's spent years making my life miserable. And now he's parading around acting like I'd ever willingly agree to spend forever with him?

Before I know it, I'm storming down the hallway after him.

"Zaid!" I shout, my voice laced with fury.

He turns around casually, still smirking like he's won some sort of twisted game. And to top it off, he winks at me.

That's it. Something inside me snaps. Without thinking, I run at him, grabbing his collar and shoving him against the wall with as much force as I can muster. "You think this is funny? Huh?" I seethe, my face inches from his. "Why are you doing this?! What is your problem?!"

Zaid looks down at me, his expression momentarily surprised, but that annoying grin returns almost instantly. "Feisty," he murmurs, eyes glinting with amusement. "I like it when you're all fired up, Ayra."

I tighten my grip on his collar, leaning closer, my breath uneven from anger. "Answer me, Zaid! You wanted to ruin my life, right? So why the hell are you trying to marry me now? Just to torment me more?!"

He tilts his head, looking at me with an intensity that unnerves me for a split second. "Very intelligent Ayra"

I scoff, pushing him harder against the wall. "Of course tumse zeher ke alawa or Kya expect karu?"

"Batao Kya expect karsakti ho?" He affirms leaning dangerously closer, I would honestly bury myself now, looking at the rate at which mishaps are occuring.

Before I can react, he switches our positions in one swift move. Suddenly, it's me pinned against the wall, his hands braced on either side of me, caging me in.

My breath catches in my throat. His smirk is gone, replaced by a serious, intense expression that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. He stares deep into my eyes, his face so close that I can feel the warmth radiating off him.

"Do you think I want to marry you?" His voice is calm, but there's something darker beneath it.

I blink, my chest tightening. The way he's looking at me-it's different. And it hurts. Does he want to marry me? For a moment, doubt flickers in my mind. I feel the sting of all the years of torment he's caused. "Do you think I've forgotten everything you've done to me?" He asks, his voice a perfect balance of hurt and hate.

He lets out a bitter chuckle, his face tightening. "No, Ayra. No." He shakes his head, his eyes hardening again. "I'm still very concrete on ruining you." His voice turns low and dangerous, and I feel my heart drop. "And I will. You're stuck with me now."

I push him back with all the force I can muster, trying to break free from the strange spell his words cast over me. A heated debate won't fix this-won't fix him. And just as I step away, my hands still tremble slightly, the tension in the air is shattered by the sudden, cheerful voice of his mother.

"Zaid! Are you teasing Ayra again?" she calls from behind, her tone half-scolding, half-amused.

I whirl around to see her walking toward us, her eyebrows raised in mild disapproval. Zaid immediately straightens up, the cold edge of his demeanor vanishing as if it was never there.

"No, Mom," Zaid says, trying to sound innocent, but the lie is so obvious I can't help but scoff.

I cross my arms, still fuming. "Yes, Aunty, he is misbehaving with me!" I say quickly, glaring at him.

Zaid's eyes widen in shock, and he turns to me, mouth slightly open. "Ayra!"

His mother doesn't even wait for him to defend himself. With lightning speed, she reaches up and grabs his ear, twisting it in her grip. "Zaid! I told you not to tease Ayra like that!"

"Ow, Mom! I wasn't teasing her, I swear!" Zaid yelps, trying to squirm out of her hold.

"Don't lie to me, Zaid!" his mother says, tightening her grip. "I raised you better than this! How dare you misbehave with Ayra, hmm?"

"I'm not lying, I wasn't-ow!" Zaid tries to protest, but his mother's not having any of it. I bite my lip, trying not to laugh at the sight of the usually arrogant and smug Zaid now reduced to a child being scolded by his mom.

"Aunty, he really was bothering me," I say, adding fuel to the fire, grinning wickedly at Zaid.

His mother turns to him, her eyes narrowing. "Zaid! Apologize to her right now!"

Zaid groans in defeat, rubbing his ear when his mom finally lets go. "Fine, fine! I'm sorry, okay?" He glares at me, but there's no malice in it-just irritation.

I cross my arms, pretending to consider his apology. "Hmm... not sure if I believe you."

His mother steps in again, giving Zaid another warning look. "You'd better mean it, or I'll grab the other ear next!"

Zaid's face flushes, and he mumbles under his breath. "I mean it..."

I smile sweetly. "Thank you, Zaid."

Zaid shoots me a look that says you'll pay for this later, but I just smile wider. His mother pats his shoulder, shaking her head with a fond sigh. "This boy. Always causing trouble."

Zaid rolls his eyes, clearly embarrassed, while I stand there, smug satisfaction settling in.

"Don't worry, Aunty," I say, glancing at Zaid. "I can handle him."

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

The tiny gesture of aunty standing up for me, believing me evokes something inside me. As someone who has spent their hours struggling to grab their mother's attention, a small action of love means everything to me.

Aunty had advised us to bring tea in the drawing room, for that I'm in the kitchen making one while Zaid tags along-why? Because his mother forced him to be nice with me.

As I move around the kitchen, the scent of brewing tea fills the air, calming my nerves somewhat, though Zaid's presence lingers like an unwelcome shadow. He's leaning against the counter, watching me with a casual indifference, arms crossed over his chest. I can feel his gaze on me, a little too focused for comfort. His rectangular glasses situated on his perfectly carved nose, the dimples of him appearing slightly as he moves his cheeks.

"You even know how to make tea?" he asks, voice dripping with mockery.

I roll my eyes, stirring the pot with deliberate slowness. "Of course I do. Not that it's any of your business."

"Sure, sure. You didn't even put the kettle on properly." His teasing tone makes me grit my teeth.

I shoot him a glare. "Why are you even here? If you're so smart, you can make it yourself."

"Believe me, I'd rather be anywhere else," he replies, still smirking. "But Mom insists on making me 'help' you."

"Yeah, right. Like you're helping."

Ignoring him, I reach for the sugar jar, which, of course, is in the upper cabinet. A tiny groan escapes my lips as I stretch upward, fingers barely brushing the edge of the jar. I curse under my breath, feeling foolish for not checking the placement of things beforehand.

Suddenly, I feel a presence behind me. Zaid's chest presses lightly against my back as he reaches over me, effortlessly grabbing the jar. The sudden closeness sends a jolt of heat up my spine, and I freeze for a second, caught off guard by how near he is. His arm lingers beside my face for just a moment before he pulls back, handing me the jar.

"Too short for the job?" he quips, that smug grin plastered on his face.

"Shut up," I snap, taking the jar from him quickly, trying to ignore the way my heart skips a beat. "I didn't ask for your help."

He steps back, his hands raised in mock surrender. "You're welcome, by the way."

I turn my back on him, focusing on the tea, trying to will the heat in my cheeks to disappear. I'm stirring the tea when a stray lock of hair falls across my face, getting in the way of my vision. I huff in frustration, trying to push it back, but the strands keep slipping from my fingers.

Without warning, Zaid steps closer again. This time, he reaches out, gathering my hair in his hands and gently pulling it away from my face, holding it back in a loose grip. His fingers brush the nape of my neck, and I stiffen, feeling a strange mix of irritation and... something else.

"Just get it done," he mutters quietly, his voice much closer than I anticipated.

I swallow hard, focusing on the tea, refusing to acknowledge the odd flutter in my chest. "I could've handled it myself."

"Clearly," he says, sarcasm coating his words, but there's no malice in his tone this time.

I try to ignore him, stirring the tea with more force than necessary. My pulse quickens as I feel his presence hovering just behind me, far too close for comfort. Every move I make seems amplified with him standing there. It's like I'm hyper-aware of everything-the heat of the stove, the clinking of the spoon against the pot, the steady rhythm of my own breath.

I can't help but think that it's how he is, one moment he'll be yapping about ruining me and all, but the other moment he'll tease me Asif nothing happened. How low of him to marry me just because of his revenge.

But eventually, the tea is done, and I finally break away from the strange moment. Zaid releases my hair, stepping back again, and I quickly pour the tea into cups, making sure to avoid eye contact.

I glance around the kitchen for the tray, only to realize it's missing. I huff, annoyed at myself for not noticing earlier. Zaid notices too, his smirk already forming. "Looks like the queen forgot her tray, how un-wifey of you" he quips, leaning against the counter as if this is all a big joke to him.

I roll my eyes, feeling my patience thinning. "Just because you have charming dimples doesn't mean you'll charm me by your words. Your wife, never"

"You find my dimples charming?" he says, his tone is filled with unnecessary sarcasm.

I open my mouth to retort, but before I can, Zaid''s eyes suddenly widen, his entire posture changing from relaxed to alert in an instant. "Ayra! Your dupatta-"

I frown, confused, but before I can fully register his words, I feel a strong, sudden pull on my shoulder, jerking me backward. The shock of it causes me to stumble slightly, but Zaid's grip steadies me, his face inches from mine, his expression fierce with alarm.

It's then that I smell the smoke.

I glance down in horror to see the edge of my dupatta catching fire from the nearby stove. The small flame has already begun to climb up the delicate fabric, and my heart skips a beat in sheer panic. For a split second, I'm frozen, unable to move, to react-my mind blank with fear.

Zaid doesn't hesitate. He moves with lightning speed, grabbing the fabric and throwing it to the ground, using his hand to smother the flame before it can spread further. I hear him hiss in pain, and that breaks me out of my trance. My eyes widen as I see the burns on his hand, red and angry from the heat.

"Zaid!" I exclaim, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and guilt. "Your hand-"

He doesn't even glance at his injury. His eyes are locked on mine, the concern etched deeply in his features. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice tight but steady.

I nod, my throat suddenly dry. "I-I didn't realize..."

He shakes his head, not letting me finish. "It's fine. You're not entering the kitchen now" His voice is unusually soft, almost as if the usual sarcasm has been stripped away by the seriousness of the moment.

But I can't take my eyes off his hand, which is already beginning to swell slightly from the burn. "Your hand," I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're hurt because of me."

"It's nothing, and that's all what matters" he mutters, but I can hear the strain in his voice. He winces slightly, flexing his fingers as if testing the pain.

I reach for his hand instinctively, cradling it gently, inspecting the burn. "We need to run this under cold water."

He tries to pull his hand back, but I don't let him. "Ayra, I said it's fine. You're okay and that's it"

"But you're hurt!" I snap, more out of guilt than anything else. The thought of him getting injured because of me sends a wave of discomfort through me. Zaid, of all people, shouldn't be the one getting burned on my behalf.

"I'm not dying, Ayra," he says, his usual smirk returning, though it's weaker than before. "Stop fussing."

But I can't stop. The adrenaline from the near-disaster is still coursing through my veins, and the guilt of him getting hurt because I was careless gnaws at me. I drag him over to the sink despite his protests, turning on the cold water and guiding his hand under the stream.

"Just... hold still," I mutter, my heart is still racing.

Zaid stays quiet for once, watching me as I run the water over his hand. His usual bravado is gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. I don't dare look up at him; instead, I focus on his injury, trying to keep my hands steady.

After a long pause, he finally speaks, his voice low. "You didn't have to do that, you know. Worry about me, I mean."

I glance up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. "You burned your hand because of me. What else was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn't care?"

He chuckles, though it lacks the usual bite. "So you do care"

"Shut up will you?" I say quietly, the words feeling heavy on my tongue, actually I'm not in my senses right now, I'm acting entirely different from my character and that's all because of this sudden shift in my life.

He shrugs, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips again. "Don't get used to it."

I roll my eyes, but a small smile pulls at my lips despite myself. "I won't."

"So," he says, his smirk fully returning, "still sure you know how to make tea?"

I shoot him a glare. "Shut up."

I didn't have the time to inform girls about the relation of me and Ahad due to the unexpected shock of the century.

Ayra's mother is a constant hatred target for us, and that's because of her wicked personality.

As I find myself getting bored by the chatters of adults, I stride towards the garden for some fresh air. Before the cold breeze can brush my skin, the ringing of the phone catches me off guard. Without any hesitation, I pick up the call and exclaim, "hey!"

I didn't have the time to inform girls about the relation of me and Ahad due to the unexpected shock of the century.

I step out into the cool evening air, finally breaking away from the endless chatter of adults inside. The garden, softly lit and quiet, feels like the perfect escape. Before I can take a breath and let the fresh air soothe my nerves, my phone buzzes in my hand.

I glance at the screen and instantly smile. It's Ahad.

"Hey!" I answer, my voice brightening despite the slight dullness I've felt from the evening so far.

"Hey Hoor" Ahad's deep voice comes through, soft and warm, and I feel an instant rush of calm. "Missed me yet?"

I laugh, leaning against the garden wall. "Of course. You wouldn't believe the boredom inside. It's just adults talking and me... well, just existing."

Ahad hums on the other end, his voice soothing like a lullaby. "I figured you'd need a distraction. What's going on, love?"

I sigh dramatically, though I know I don't have to explain much. Ahad has always had this way of knowing how I feel without me saying much. "Well, everything was fine until I realized... I don't have bangles that match my outfit. And now I feel incomplete."

"Really?" His voice holds that familiar teasing lilt, but underneath it, I can hear the concern, the genuine interest. "No bangles, huh? That's unacceptable."

I laugh, but there's a part of me that's genuinely upset. "I know, right? And the outfit was going so well until that tiny little detail just ruined it. But it's fine. I'll survive."

Ahad chuckles softly. "We can't have that now, can we? I'll make sure your wrists are never bare again."

I smile, my heart skipping at his playful but sincere promise. "You always know just what to say to make me feel better. But okay, I'll let you go. I'll call you back later."

"Sure," he says, his tone still soft and loving. "But don't forget, Hoorain, I'm always just a call away. And I love you."

"Thankyou" I say, a warmth spreading through me. "Talk soon."

I hang up, feeling lighter as I step back inside. It's funny how I went from hating a badboy to dating one, and I couldn't be any happier with my decision, he's the bestest person anyone could ask for.

The way he proposed, the flower ring decorating my jar is everything I didn't know I needed.

As soon as I enter, I notice that Zaid and Ayra are still nowhere to be found. My brows furrow in confusion. They've been gone for quite some time, and I don't even hear any chatter from the kitchen. Ayra's mom doesn't seem too bothered though, even making a point to say, "Let's give them some time."

Inaya raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug in response. This evening just keeps getting stranger.

Not long after, a guard comes in, addressing me directly. "Miss Hoorain, there's a parcel for you."

I blink in surprise. "A parcel? For me?"

Inaya perks up next to me, and we exchange confused glances. "What kind of parcel?" she asks, clearly as puzzled as I am.

"I'm not sure," the guard replies. "But it's waiting outside."

Maha's already fast asleep in Ayra's room, so Inaya and I decide to go check it out ourselves. As we step outside, my eyes widen in pure shock.

Ten boxes.

There, right in front of the house, sit ten large boxes, all stacked neatly and addressed to me. Inaya and I stare at them, both of us rendered speechless for a moment.

"What on earth..." I whisper, completely thrown off by the sight. "What could this possibly be?"

With Inaya's help, I begin to open the boxes, my heart racing with anticipation. As I pull the lid off the first one, my breath catches in my throat.

Bangles.

Dozens of them-no, hundreds. Every possible color, every intricate design you could imagine. Silver, gold, vibrant reds, greens, blues, all shimmering and glistening in the dim light. I open the next box, and the one after that. They're all filled with the most beautiful bangles I've ever seen.

"What?" I breathe, astonished. "Who would...?"

And then I spot the note tucked inside the final box. My fingers tremble slightly as I pull it out and unfold it.

"Sorry I didn't know what color you were wearing. Nikkah kay baad haq se sajaunga aapke haathon ko. Abhi eik picture hi bhejdein ghareeb ko."

My cheeks flush instantly. There's only one person who could send this.

Inaya grabs the note from my hand, reading it out loud and letting out a dramatic sigh. "Me when? Where is this kind of love for me?" she teases, though her smile is wide and genuine.

I'm still too stunned to respond, but the moment Inaya says it, my heart starts racing. I know exactly who sent these. Without thinking, I pull out my phone and dial Ahad.

"Yes Hoor?" Ahad's voice comes through immediately, sounding relaxed.

"You... you did this?" I ask, my voice softer than usual, still in awe.

"Did what?" he asks, playing dumb, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

"The bangles!" I say, shaking my head though he can't see me. "There are... so many of them. You didn't need to do all this."

Ahad chuckles lightly. "Of course I did. You said you didn't have any bangles, and I couldn't stand the thought of you being upset. I didn't know which color to send, so I sent them all. Problem solved."

I laugh, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Crazy for you," he replies smoothly. "But seriously, send me a picture. I need to know which ones you pick."

I can't stop the smile on my face as I glance at the boxes once again. "Thank you, Ahad. This... this is so sweet."

"It's nothing compared to what's coming after the nikkah" he says, his voice dropping to that soft, loving tone that always makes my heart skip a beat.

He requests for a video call which I accepted in a blink. I show him the bangles that compliments my dress and ask, "kesi lag Rahi hoo?"

"Meri choti Dulhan lag Rahi ho" he replies, I can feel the rush of blood through my cheeks.

We talk for a few more minutes, filled with playful banter and soft, romantic exchanges, before I finally hang up. Inaya is grinning at me when I turn around.

"Well, that was cute," she teases.I laugh, shaking my head. "He's unbelievable."

"And absolutely in love with you," she adds, nudging me playfully.I smile, my heart fluttering with happiness. "Yeah... I guess he is"

AUTHOR'S POV

The gathering was lively, filled with laughter and the sounds of conversation, as Ayra sat among the crowd, feeling a strange sense of unease. The house was lit up beautifully for the occasion, with the elders seated in the living room, discussing her future, and the younger ones teasing her relentlessly.

It was her baat pakki.

Ayra had always imagined her future to be different-calculated, controlled, and far away from Zaid. Yet here she was, surrounded by family and friends, caught in the middle of an arrangement that felt like it was spiraling beyond her control. The rasams were about to start, and all she could think about was how she'd gotten here.

Zaid's parents were seated beside Ayra's mother, both smiling warmly, their faces full of affection. Zaid's mother, dressed in an elegant sari, spoke softly to Ayra's mother. "We've always admired your daughter. She's smart, capable, and we'd be honored to make her our daughter officially. We've discussed everything, and we couldn't have asked for a better match for Zaid."

Ayra's heart pounded in her chest, her hands growing cold despite the warm atmosphere. She glanced across the room and caught Zaid's eyes. He looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.

"I can't marry him. This is for revenge, not for love!" Ayra's thoughts spiraled as she watched the families finalize her fate. I hate him.

Zaid shifted in his seat, the tension between them palpable. He didn't want this either, she could tell. But neither of them could speak up in front of the elders, in front of the families who were eagerly anticipating the union.

Ayra's mother smiled, clasping Zaid's mother's hands in hers. "She's all yours," she said, sealing Ayra's fate with those three words.

Her friends, seated nearby, suddenly burst into a flurry of movement, snapping photos of Ayra, all giggles and excitement. Ayan, always the joker, stood up and began narrating like a sports commentator, much to everyone's amusement. "And here we see the bride-to-be, our very own Ayra, who looks like she's about to pass out from shock!" he quipped, earning laughs from the entire room.

Maha, who had just woken up after a nap in Ayra's room, stumbled into the scene, still groggy but excited nonetheless. "Did I miss anything? Oh my God, is it happening already?" she asked, rushing to Ayra's side, her face lighting up with enthusiasm.

The rasams began, marking the formal announcement of their engagement. Someone handed Ayra a small tray with sweets, and she performed the rituals mechanically, her mind distant from the joyous atmosphere surrounding her.

Zaid's father approached her after the rasam, his face kind and gentle. He patted her head affectionately, bending slightly to meet her gaze. "You are my daughter now, Ayra. If he hurts you," he said, casting a mock-glare at Zaid, "I'll personally deal with him."

Ayra felt a lump in her throat. The words, though light-hearted, struck her deeply. She had never experienced this kind of care from her own father, who was always distant and indifferent toward her. The affection Zaid's family showed her was overwhelming, something she had never known.

Zahra, Zaid's younger sister, rushed over and enveloped Ayra in a tight hug. "Finally, I get a bhabhi! We're going to have so much fun teasing Bhai together!" she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Zaid's mother, too, stepped forward, her eyes glistening with emotion. "Dear, I'm so happy to have you as part of our family. We've been waiting for this day for so long." Her voice was warm, and Ayra could see the genuine affection behind her words.

But then, Zaid leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Don't get too comfortable. You'll never become my wife."

His words sent a chill down Ayra's spine, snapping her back into the present. It was a stark contrast to the warmth his family had shown her. It was a reminder that, despite everything, Zaid still saw her as an enemy. And, in truth, she still saw him that way too.

The friends began to head upstairs to change clothes, their laughter and chatter fading as they left the room. Ayra, however, felt suffocated. The emotions, the confusion, the pressure-it was too much. She quietly excused herself and slipped out to the balcony, needing some air.

The cool breeze hit her face as she leaned on the railing, staring out into the night. Her mind raced back to the past, to the deep-rooted grudge she held against Zaid. He had taken everything from her-her achievements, her recognition, and even her sense of worth. How had it come to this?

I can't marry him, she thought again, her heart heavy. This isn't right. I hate him. But even as she thought it, the weight of the evening settled deeper into her chest, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold onto that hate amidst everything else.

As Ayra stood on the balcony, the cold night air brushing against her skin, her mind drifted back to the past-a past that still haunted her. The laughter and chatter from inside faded as she remembered the days when everything had been so different.

Flashback

Her parents had once been in love, or so she had thought. When her mother was pregnant with twins, both of them had been ecstatic, looking forward to the future with excitement. But when Ayra and her brother were born, things began to unravel. Her father, who had longed for a son, was overjoyed to have a boy but couldn't hide his disdain for Ayra. He had never wanted a daughter, believing that girls were nothing but burdens.

That was when the arguments began. Ayra could still remember the nights filled with shouting, her parents fighting over her existence. Her father's words cut through her memories like knives: "Girls are just burdens. They are useless!" He had wanted to take her brother and leave, leaving Ayra behind as if she didn't matter.

And eventually, that's exactly what happened. Her parents got divorced, and her father took her brother, leaving Ayra with her mother. But her mother, bitter and broken by the divorce, never cared for Ayra the way she had cared for her son. To her, Ayra was just a constant reminder of the marriage that had fallen apart. She blamed Ayra for everything-her failed marriage, her loneliness, her unhappiness.

Ayra's mother had focused on nothing but Ayra's grades. She pushed her to excel academically, never once considering her emotional or mental well-being. Every time Ayra fell short, she was met with cold indifference or harsh punishment. She could still feel the burn scars on her skin from the times her mother had lashed out when her grades weren't good enough. Her mother's only goal was to prove Ayra's father wrong-that a girl could achieve just as much as a boy. But in doing so, she had turned Ayra's life into a constant struggle for approval. That turned her into a stoic girl.

(Ayra shook her head, trying to push away the memories, but they came flooding back faster now.)

She and Zaid had both been students at the most prestigious college in the country, a place that was known for producing the best minds. It was a school of privilege and status, and Ayra had gotten in on a scholarship. She had always worked harder than anyone else, always needing to prove herself. Zaid, on the other hand, came from a family with influence. They were both top students, rivals even, and they had been appointed as president and vice president of the student council. Every responsibility had been handed to them because the management believed in student leadership.

Then, came the scandal that changed everything.

The night before the college's most important admission test, the key to the exam papers had been entrusted to Ayra and Zaid. It was their job to ensure its safety. But the next morning, chaos erupted when it was discovered that the key had been leaked, and the papers had been compromised. The whole college was in turmoil.

Ayra and Zaid were summoned before the discipline committee, where they were questioned harshly. Both of them had been on the committee, so the betrayal was seen as an even bigger issue. The members were strict, their voices sharp as they demanded answers.

"This is the first scandal our school has ever had," one of the committee members had said. "You two had the key. We want names. Who did it?"

Ayra, her heart pounding, had tried to defend them. "It wasn't our fault. We didn't do it," she had repeated over and over, but it fell on deaf ears. The discipline committee wasn't interested in excuses; they wanted someone to blame.

"If you don't give us a name, you both will be suspended," they threatened.

Ayra's mind raced in panic. She couldn't afford to be suspended. Zaid had his surname, his family's connections. Even if he was suspended, he could still go abroad to study at one of the world's best universities. But Ayra had no such luxury. Her entire future depended on her staying at this college. She had to prove her worth, had to prove that girls could achieve more than what her father expected of them. And then, there was her mother-her mother who would never forgive her for failing.

In that moment of desperation, Ayra remembered the times her mother had burned her skin for getting lower grades, the constant pressure to be perfect. She couldn't afford to lose everything now.

The committee pressed harder. "We need a name, or you both will be held responsible."

Ayra's heart shattered as she made the most difficult decision of her life. She had to protect herself.

"He did it," she whispered, cutting off Zaid just as he began to speak "it's not my fault".

The room went silent as everyone turned to look at her. Zaid's eyes widened in disbelief. "What are you saying, Ayra?"

She couldn't look at him. Tears streamed down her face as she kept her head down, unable to meet his gaze.

The committee nodded, satisfied with her answer. "The last person who had the key was Zaid," one of them said. "Ayra, you can leave."

Ayra stood, her legs trembling, and walked out of the room. But the moment she stepped outside, guilt consumed her. She knew Zaid hadn't done it. He wasn't the type to betray anyone like that. But she had made her choice. She had been selfish, choosing her own future over his.

Moments later, Zaid stormed out of the room, his face filled with anger and hurt. Ayra, still crying, approached him.

"Zaid, I-"

"Get off!" Zaid snarled, his voice full of fury. "You did it all because you were selfish. You only cared about yourself, didn't you?"

Ayra's heart broke as he continued. "All because of some grades, Ayra? Now watch me ruin everything for you. I promise, I'll take everything from you."

And from that moment on, everything between them had changed. They became enemies, each nursing the wounds of that betrayal. The misunderstanding that had been created in that room had set them on a path neither could walk back from.

Ayra wiped her tears as the memories faded. Both she and Zaid had been right in their own way, and yet both of them had been wrong. The past was heavy, and now, here they were, tied together by an engagement neither of them wanted.

๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑

Hey guys I hope y'all are doing fine and well.

I really hope y'all enjoyed today's chapter.

The couples that aren't getting more chapters in start will be getting more by the end, it'll be balanced like this.

The baat pakki was meant to be confusing and not so romantic but don't worry comment down your thoughts and I'll try to clear them in the upcoming chapters.

What do you think about their past?

About the updates so guys, previously I had already scripted the chapters during my vacation hours, however the chapters that will be updated now and further are freshly written. I only get spare time on weekends so I'll try to write as much as I can.

I update once in a week and my chapters contain more than 5k words. This one alone has 10k words, so thankyou for staying patient.

Thankyou so much!!! We've crossed 30k views and 2k votes!! I'm ecstatic to be saying that I have the best readers.

Love y'all.

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