Chapter 46: 41| Good For You

Should I freak out?

Yes.

Am I freaking out?

No.

Why am I not freaking out?

Because I've never freaked out.

Why should I freak out?

Because after hours of hard work it's the day when the judging panel would reveal their final decision. More than one hundred universities took part in this contest and only five of them were left for this last stage. Being one of them, we were done with the last stage this morning and now it's the award ceremony.

I adjust my black suit that I'll be wearing this night. My mind flickers to Ayra-those sharp grey eyes that seem to burn holes through me, her perpetual scowl whenever I speak, and the maddening way she makes my blood simmer.

I aim to open my shirt buttons but a knock at the door interrupts me.

"Zaid! Open up!" Ayra's voice cuts through the air, I can't help but smirk because irritating already irritated Ayra never fails to amuse me.

I swing the door open, only to find her standing there dressed in a casual button down black shirt. Her arms crossed and the grumpy face. Yeah even after chuckling like a kid yesterday she's scowling at me like old Ayra. I guess she loves showing me tantrums ...well she can.

"What do you want now?" I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms.

She pushes past me without waiting for an invitation, her perfume trailing behind her like a challenge. "I think I left my lipstick here."

"Why would your lipstick be in my room?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She spins around, exasperated, her hands crossed. "Do you ever stop questioning everything? Obviously I gave it to you yesterday to keep it safe"

I lean against the wall, watching her as she moves around my room with purpose. The frown in her brows is mesmerizing, and I let out a low chuckle. "You know, if you wanted an excuse to come to my room, you could've just said so."

She freezes, whirling around to glare at me. "In your dreams"

"Every night," I say, my smirk widening as her cheeks flush.

She turns sharply, her heels clicking against the floor. "I don't have time for your idiocy. Where's the bathroom?"

"Why?"

"To check if it's in there," she snaps, heading toward it without waiting for my response.

I follow her, leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe as she scans the counter. I can't help but love how the ring bearing my name looks on her finger, I can't admit it out loud this fiery girl would burn me alive for that, leaving no trace behind.

She glances over her shoulder, her glare sharper than ever. "Are you just planning to stare at me or help me out?"

"The first option is great for me" I step closer, and she instinctively stiffens. "Ayra would you mind me staring at you?"

"No" she splutters, her voice rising as she storms toward me, poking my chest with her finger. "I know I'm irresistible but just to get it inside your head. I don't have the time to mind Zaid I'm capable of making sure the other knows their eyes won't be usable after that"

I grab her hand mid-poke, my grip firm but teasing. "I'm still staring at you Ayra without caring about my eyes" I murmur, my voice low. "Zaid and his eyes are available for you ma'am"

Her lips part in shock, and I smirk, watching as she yanks her hand back and spins on her heel. But before she can make her grand exit, her heel catches the edge of the bathtub.

She stumbles, and I move without thinking, catching her and shifting our positions just as the both of us fall backward.

Cold water splashes everywhere, soaking us instantly. She gasps, her wet hair plastered to her face as she glares at me, water dripping down her temples. "Zaid!"

The bathroom air feels heavier, the cool water drenching us doing nothing to extinguish the heat simmering between us. My fingers tightens instinctively on her waist, her sharp inhale not escaping my notice. Her grey eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, the world outside this soaked prison ceased to exist.

Her voice cuts through the silence, soft and slightly breathless. "Zaid...let me go."

I smirk, leaning just a fraction closer, watching her eyes flicker between defiance and something undeniably electric. "Do you really want me to?" My tone is low, teasing, laced with a challenge I know she can't resist.

Her lips parts as if to shoot back a retort, but no sound comes out. Instead, she swallows hard, her gaze faltering for the briefest moment before it returns, sharper, bolder.

"This doesn't mean anything," she snaps, but even as she said it, her hands finds a purchase against my chest, not pushing me away but clinging for balance-or maybe something more.

"Doesn't it?" I challenge, tilting my head slightly, my breath ghosting against her cheek. "Because the way you're looking at me right now, Ayra" My voice drops to a whisper. "It sure as hell feels like it does."

Her breath hitches as the water cascades over her face, droplets clinging to her lashes. She blinks them away, her eyes never leaving mine. The tension between us is palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires.

I brush a wet strand of her hair behind her ear, "why are you doing this?" She sighs still not moving an inch.

I let out a quiet chuckle, the sound echoing between us. "Isn't it clear by now?"

Her head tilts slightly, and the subtle shake of it brings a smirk to my lips. Either she knows and doesn't want to accept it, or she's genuinely oblivious. My fingers tighten on her waist, pulling her just a fraction closer.

"Ayra," I murmur, my gaze locked on hers, "I'm looking at you like it'd physically hurt me not to. I know I could stand, walk away, let this moment go, but I'm not doing that. You know why?"

There goes another shake of her head, "no worries sweetheart, I'll make sure you know all the reasons why I can't let you go"

Her lips part as if to respond, but nothing comes out. The heat in her eyes matches the fire burning in my chest, and for a moment, I think I've finally cornered her.

But then she smiles.

Not her usual glare or smirk. It's slow, dangerous, a glint of mischief sparking in her grey eyes.

My stomach flips at the sight, and before I can figure out what's happening, her hand trails up my chest, her fingertips leaving a burning path as they climb higher and higher. She reaches my neck, her thumb brushing over my jawline with deliberate softness.

My throat bobs as I swallow hard. I can't look away, even as every nerve in my body screams at me to be on guard. "Ayra..." I warn, but my voice lacks any real authority.

"Hmm?" she hums, tilting her head, her expression daring.

I let her do whatever she wants, my grip on her waist loosening as she shifts slightly. She leans in, her breath warm against my ear, and for a split second, I think she's going to kiss me.

Then, with alarming speed, her hand moves to the back of my head and shoves.

My face plunges into the water, the shock of it making me sputter. The cold hits me like a slap, and I flail for a second before finding my balance. When I finally manage to sit up, dripping and glaring, Ayra is laughing-a rich, victorious sound that fills the room.

"Zaid," she says, her voice sweet but mocking, "I told you, I don't mind. I just make sure the other person minds their business."

She winks, her grey eyes gleaming, and rises to her feet with a grace that feels utterly unfair. Water drips from her shirt as she turns on her heel and heads for the door, leaving me stunned in the tub.

I watch her go, my chest tight and my mind racing. My stomach does a flip, and I don't even know why. Maybe it's the way she so effortlessly flipped the power dynamic. Maybe it's her laugh. Or maybe it's because....

I chuckle looking at the girl who owns me in every sense, damn Ayra Shaikh the dangerous woman you are.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

The hallway is silent, save for the faint hum of the hotel's air conditioning. I stand outside her door, my hands stuffed in the pockets of my sleek black trousers. The tailored suit sits perfectly over my shoulders, my watch gleaming under the soft lighting, and my glasses perched effortlessly on my nose. I tap my foot impatiently, the low echo bouncing off the walls.

Ayra always takes her time, like it's her personal mission to test my patience.

The door creaks open, and when I look up, the breath catches in my throat.

She steps out, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The bodycon dress hugs her figure, the deep maroon fabric emphasizing every curve. Her hair is styled to perfection, soft waves rolling down her back. That same dangerous red lipstick paints her full lips, and the blazer draped over her shoulders makes her look like a walking declaration of power.

She doesn't just look good-she looks like someone who could bring a man to his knees with a single glance.

Ayra's siren eyes lock onto mine, and a smirk tugs at her lips. "What? Did I break you, Zaid? Or are you just speechless for once?"

I let out a low chuckle, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward her. "I'm always speechless when I look at you"

Her smirk deepens as she adjusts the blazer on her shoulder, her movements deliberate. "You seem desperate Mirza"

"Do I?" I close the gap between us, each step slow and deliberate. "Oh I thought it was obvious by now that yes.. I am desperate"

She shrugs, her confidence radiating off her. "Whatever you're not my type"

Her words ignite something in me, and before I can second-guess myself, I'm standing inches away from her. My hand moves to the wall behind her, caging her in as I lean closer.

Her breath hitches, but she doesn't back away. Instead, her chin tilts up, those grey eyes meeting mine with a daring glint. "What are you doing, Zaid?"

"Making sure I become your type" I murmur, my voice low and rough. My other hand brushes the edge of her blazer, tugging it slightly, my knuckles grazing her bare shoulder.

Her lips twitch, caught between a smirk and something softer. "You think you can intimidate me?"

"Intimidate?" I let out a quiet laugh, my fingers skimming down her arm. "No, Ayra. I'm just enjoying the view."

She rolls her eyes, but the slight flush on her cheeks betrays her. "Do you practice these lines in the mirror, or do they come naturally?"

"They come naturally," I reply smoothly, leaning in just enough for her to feel my breath on her ear. "Especially when you look like this."

Her hand moves to my chest, not to push me away but to hold me at bay. Her touch burns through the fabric of my shirt, but I stay still, watching her carefully.

"Careful, Zaid," she warns, her voice softer now, her gaze flickering to my lips for the briefest moment. "You're playing a dangerous game."

I smirk, leaning even closer, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear as I whisper, "Good thing I like danger."

She exhales sharply, and for a moment, we're caught in a charged silence. Then, as if regaining her composure, she presses her palm firmly against my chest, creating space between us.

Suddenly realization hits me harder than anything else. This isn't supposed to be like this, I ain't supposed to act this... No..this is entirely wrong.

I immediately pull myself back and regain my composure, whatever is going on should stop. "I apologize"

"For what?"

"We should leave Ayra. This isn't what any of us should be doing"

I can't get attached to her not now not ever. This is a dangerous relationship and I don't even know why.

The award ceremony hall is buzzing with energy, a kaleidoscope of chatter, laughter, and flashes from cameras. I can feel the weight of dozens of eyes on me, and it's not just paranoia. I know I look good-great, even-but the attention feels overwhelming.

Zaid is beside me, and I swear I'll break this guy's head if I looked at him. One moment he's flirting, his voice low and teasing, like the soul of Christian Grey decided to possess him. "Fifty Shades of Zaid," I mentally scoff. And then the next? He's pushing me away or pretending I don't exist.

Let me show you what I'm capable of Zaid Mirza.

I focus on the stage instead, ignoring the glances being thrown my way. My dress clings to me perfectly, the blazer draped over my shoulder adding a layer of sophistication. The red lipstick is my armor, and if I have to deal with Zaid's mood swings, I'll need it.

"Enjoying the attention?" His voice is low, barely audible over the noise, but the amusement is clear.

I turn my head slightly, catching the glint in his dark eyes. "Why don't you go back to brooding and save us both the trouble?"

His dimples deepens, but before he can respond, the lights dim, and the ceremony officially begins. Thank God.

The judges take their seats on stage, and I pretend Zaid isn't sitting so close that his arm brushes against mine every time he shifts. As they announce the runners-up, my heart starts racing. It's been a long, grueling competition, and now, it all comes down to this.

"And the winner of the Global Business Contest is..." The pause feels eternal. "Aurelian University!"

The room erupts into cheers and applause. Zaid and I stand, the adrenaline surging through me as I beam at our victory.

I know I'm supposed to anger him but the high-five we both share is worth... There's no time to hug each other no matter how happy we are since it's unprofessional to let the judges wait for too long on the stage.

His hand brushing against my back as we move toward the stage. I ignore him, refusing to let him ruin this moment for me. The judges hand us the trophy, their praises ringing in my ears, but I'm too overwhelmed to process it all.

This is to my father who thought I was a burden. I did it. We did it.

On the way back to our seats, people congratulate us, some even stopping me to compliment our presentation-or our appearance. I catch Zaid watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I refuse to acknowledge him.

He leans in slightly, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Still ignoring me?"

I tilt my head, my smile polite but icy. "What gave it away?"

He chuckles, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine, but I don't let it show.

As the ceremony wraps up, I finally let myself relax. Me and Zaid actually deserved it, our idea and confidence was better so ofcourse we had to win.

I catch him smirking at me from across the room, and I decide right then-I'm done letting him get to me. Tonight, I celebrate our victory, with or without "Fifty Shades of Zaid" trying to steal the show.

The party is in full swing, the music loud and the atmosphere electric. People are laughing, dancing, and clinking glasses of mocktails and champagne. The weight of the blazer is gone from my shoulders, and I feel freer without it, the bodycon dress doing its job of making me feel like I own this room.

I sip from a glass of sparkling water, leaning casually against a high table when a voice cuts through the noise.

"You must be Ayra," the voice says, thick with an Italian accent.

I turn my head and find myself face-to-face with a blonde guy. His smile is wide, too wide, and his eyes sweep over me in a way that makes me want to roll mine into oblivion.

Uhh I hate how I can recognize anyone's intentions by a glance, he's here to flirt.

"And you must be...lost," I reply flatly, taking another sip from my glass.

He chuckles, undeterred. "No amore mio I found exactly what I was looking for."

I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Wow, how original. Did you rehearse that in the mirror?"

His grin falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "I like a savage girl"

"Really? What am I supposed to do with that useless information?" I say with a small smirk, stepping past him.

But he follows, trying to keep up. "Come on, don't be like that. Let me buy you a drink."

I glance down at the sparkling water in my hand. "Thanks, but I'm already taken care of. Besides, I doubt you could afford my taste."

His confidence wavers, but he tries again. "At least let me compliment your choice of footwear. Those heels-what are they? Christian louboutin?"

I look at him, my expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate precision, I take a step forward-right onto his shiny black shoes.

"Oh!" I exclaim mockingly, my voice dripping with fake concern. "Are you okay?"

He winces slightly but tries to play it cool. "Yeah, I guess."

I glance down at the sparkling water in my hand and then at his slightly scuffed shoes. My expression doesn't falter as I say, "No, I wasn't asking about you. I'm more worried about my Christian Louboutins. Do you even know how much these cost?"

The blonde guy blinks, taken aback. "I...uh..."

I roll my eyes, cutting him off. "Exactly."

He looks thoroughly confused now, and I can't help but smirk at his flustered expression. But before I can dismiss him entirely, my gaze shifts, catching a glimpse of Zaid.

He's leaned against the bar, dressed in his sleek black outfit, the perfect picture of effortless danger. His glasses frame his sharp features, but it's his eyes that stop me dead. Dark, intense, and trained solely on me.

The glass in his hand looks like it might shatter under the pressure of his grip. His jaw is tight, his stance rigid, and yet there's something utterly magnetic about him. It's as if the room fades away, leaving only that burning eye contact between us.

My lips curl into a smirk. Is he jealous? I think, my heart skipping a beat.

Wait and watch, Mirza.

I turn back to the blonde guy, flashing him an exaggerated smile. "You know what?" I say, my tone sugary sweet. "Let's have a dance."

His face lights up like Christmas morning. "Of course, amore mio!" he says, extending a hand.

I take it, not because I care, but because I can feel Zaid's gaze searing into my back. As we move to the dance floor, I make sure to laugh, throwing my head back and pretending to enjoy the blonde's attempts at charm.

But then, as if summoned by sheer force of will, Zaid appears. He strides towards us with the kind of authority that makes everyone else in the room step aside.

"Get your hands off my fiancée," he declares, his voice low and dangerous.

The blonde freezes, his grip on my waist faltering. I blink, startled, then glare up at Zaid. "Excuse me? Your fiancée?"

"Not now, Ayra," he warns, his tone clipped, but I'm far from done.

"Who the hell are you to decide what happens now?" I snap, crossing my arms.

His dark eyes narrow, the tension between us crackling like static. "I'm someone you don't want to test right now."

"Oh, really?" I sneer. "It's my life. If I want to dance with him, date him, drink with him-it shouldn't matter to you."

"Yeah step away from her you dumbass she's mine tonight"

Zaid steps closer, towering over me. His voice drops, low and lethal. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

With that a loud punch lands on that Blondie's face and it's enough to send him crashing to the floor. "That's for touching my girl"

Blondie groans on the floor, clutching his face, and I barely have time to process what just happened before Zaid straightens, shaking out his hand like he didn't just knock someone to the ground.

He chuckles, the sound low and almost menacing, sending shivers down my spine. His knuckles are red, and there's something so infuriatingly hot about the way he flexes them, rolling his wrist casually as if this is just another Tuesday for him.

Was he even capable of doing that!

"Touch her again," he says, his voice a deep, velvety declaration "and next time, you won't get back up."

Blondie mutters something unintelligible, but Zaid's sharp gaze silences him before he can even think about retaliating. His eyes are like molten steel-cold, piercing, and completely in control. The entire room seems to freeze under his intensity.

Before I can fire back, he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me effortlessly, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

"Zaid!" I yell, my fists pounding against his back. "Put me down, you psycho!"

He doesn't answer, his long strides carrying us out of the party as people turn to stare. I want to die of embarrassment.

Out in the garden, the cool night air hits me as he finally sets me down. I stumble as my heels dig into the soft grass, glaring daggers at Zaid. My chest heaves, the cool night air doing little to calm the fire raging inside me. I push him hard against his chest, my voice a mixture of anger and frustration.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Zaid? You can't just act like you own me one second and then shove me away the next! What kind of twisted game are you playing?"

His jaw tightens, but he doesn't move, his dark eyes locked on mine. "I'm not playing any game, Ayra."

"Oh, really?" I snap, my voice rising. "Then what is this? One minute you're all over me, acting like you care, and the next you're pushing me away like I'm nothing! I know this engagement means nothing to you, so why don't you just stay away from me?!"

His hand shoots out, gripping my wrist firmly but gently, pulling me closer. His voice is low, and for the first time, there's no sharpness in it-only raw, unfiltered emotion.

"You think you nothing to me?" he says, his tone trembling with suppressed intensity. "You think I love looking like a vulnerable fool who can't bear anyone's wrong gaze on you? Who punches anyone touching you? No, I don't want any of this Ayra yet I'm helpless, I'm doing this"

I try to pull away, but his grip holds steady. His vulnerability catches me off guard, and for a moment, I can't speak.

"That's insane Zaid!" I finally manage, my voice quieter but no less fierce. "Why are you doing this? Why do you care who I dance with or who I talk to if I'm nothing to you?"

He lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I wouldn't be risking my career here if you didn't mean anything to me Ayra," his hand cups my cheeks but I jerk it off because I can't handle these blurred words of him knowing that he'll push me again.

"Fine your career means nothing! Your reputation means nothing! This engagement meant nothing! Then you tell me what do you fucking mean by your words?"

"That I love you damnit" he grips my arms and pulls my closer to him, "there, got your answers. I love you to death Ayra Shaikh"

My breath catches, my anger faltering as his confession sinks in. He looks like he's on the edge of breaking, his composure unraveling in front of me.

"You..." I stammer, but he cuts me off, his voice desperate now.

"You think I don't want you? I want you so much it scares me. I push you away because I'm afraid, Ayra. Afraid that if I let myself fall for you even harder than I have, there'll be no going back."

The world feels like it's spinning. His words, his tone-it's too much. Too real.

"Zaid don't say things you don't mean. Is this any of your revenge again?" I whisper, my voice trembling.

He chuckles bitterly, "game? You know Ayra you're the last person Infront of whom I'll show my vulnerability yet here I am willing to go on my knees for you."

The air between us is electric, every unspoken word and hidden emotion crackling like a live wire. I try to step back, but Zaid catches my hand, his grip firm yet gentle. His eyes bore into mine, a dangerous mix of desperation and surrender swirling in their depths.

"Zaid," I whisper, trying to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks. "Don't...."

Before I can finish, he takes my hand and places it against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm is a stark reminder of how real this moment is.

"Feel that?" he says, his voice low and trembling. "You think I can fake this? You think I can control this? I didn't realize Ayra from when you entered into this heart and made it beat for you only"

I want to argue, to say something that will push him away, but the vulnerability in his voice roots me in place. His other hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin with a tenderness that feels almost foreign coming from him.

"Ira" he continues, his tone cracking under the weight of his emotions, "I didn't want this. I didn't want you to be the one who could break me. But here I am, broken anyway. You've ruined me, and the worst part? I don't even care anymore. I went from hating you to hating the idea of not loving you"

His words hit me like a tidal wave, drowning out every coherent thought. I try to pull my hand back, but he holds it firmly against his chest.

"Do you know what it's like?" he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To want someone so much that it consumes you? To hate them because you can't stop thinking about them, because they make you feel everything you've spent your whole life trying not to feel?"

I swallow hard, my throat dry, as his forehead drops to mine. His eyes close for a brief moment, as though he's trying to gather the last shreds of his composure.

"You've taken everything, Ayra," he says, his voice barely audible now. "Every wall I've built, every defense I had-it all crumbled the second you walked into my life. And now, I don't know how to want anything else. I don't want anything else."

My chest tightens, my own walls threatening to crumble under the weight of his confession. His grip on my hand softens, but he doesn't let go.

"I didn't plan for this," he murmurs, his voice so soft it's almost a plea. "I didn't plan to love you but now that I have, I submit myself to you. Break me, ruin me or destroy me I'm all yours"

"Why me Zaid? I'm screwed up, I'm hella rude with everyone, I'm selfish. Even I won't love myself"

"Trust me Ayra I don't know the answer to this question. I just know that I was made to love you, I love you the way you are, your flaws your perfections, just you"

The world around us feels like it's faded into the background, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat beneath my hand and the raw, undeniable truth in his eyes. My enemy, my academic rival the one who promised to ruin my world is powerless ahead of me.

(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

Zayra's confession!

As the final wave of 2024 brushes against the shore, it retreats, leaving behind glimmering shells. I remember unveiling each one, surprised by the blinding pearls inside-shining as brightly as the stars. For me, those pearls, stars, and their light symbolize the incredible people I've encountered on my writing journey.

This year, on January 12, I joined the Wattpad writers' community, unsure and slightly skeptical if it was the right decision. Any writer would relate to that feeling! 😂❤️ But soon, I found myself scripting my late-night fantasies into stories like Mon Amour, Mia Anima and Humraah.

Mon amour and Mia anima were those books which became the stepping stones for my upcoming work, teaching me so much along the way.

Then came Humraah, a story that took off in ways I could never have imagined. Writing about the struggles young people face-bullying, academic pressure, and societal expectations-I hoped it would resonate. What I didn't expect was how deeply it would connect with readers and how much joy it would bring to some of you.

(Yeah, I know I've talked a lot, but let's get to the actual point now 😂.)

I want to end this year by thanking all of you.

To the best readers in the world, who constantly encourage, motivate, and (let's be honest) overhype me 😂❤️-the votes and follower counts don't matter to me as much as your kind reviews and heartfelt words. You're the real treasures of this journey.

Thank you for those reviews and all the edits you guys sent me.

To my character admins, thank you for making Humraah even more special. I still remember you being some of the first readers, and how we all bonded over roasting each other in the GC. Girls, you know I love you more than the boys 😂😭❤️-my crazy Maha, the sweetest Nayuuu, the ever-humble Hoor, and the badass Ayra.

And how could I forget the boys? You're legit the greenest flags of the Humraah clan. Mr. Grumps Rayan, the academic beast Zaid, my biker boy Ahad (yes, the hottest), and of course, Ayan-you know I'm totally biased toward you. 😂

To my online friends, thank you for being my virtual lifeline. Whether it was brainstorming ideas, sharing memes, or just being there to listen, you've been a massive part of this journey. You've made writing less lonely and a whole lot more fun. I'm endlessly grateful for your presence.

As we bid farewell to 2024, I hope 2025 brings even more light, love, and stories to cherish. Thank you for being with me through every twist and turn. Here's to dreaming bigger, writing better, and creating more memories together.

Happy New Year! May your 2025 be as magical as the stories we share. ❤️