Chapter 15: part 6

The day of Zobia’s nikaah was a whirlwind of emotions, festivities, and heartfelt moments. The house was alive with the hum of relatives, the aroma of freshly cooked dishes, and the vibrant colors of the decor.

Sehar, dressed in an elegant pink and silver lehenga, was a vision of grace as she moved around the house, ensuring everything was perfect for Zobia’s big day. Hamza, in a cream sherwani, looked equally dashing as he helped his father with the guests, stealing glances at Sehar whenever he could.

Their day was filled with their usual banter, laced with teasing and flirtation.

“Looking good, Sehar,” Hamza said, leaning casually against the doorframe as she adjusted a floral garland.

She gave him a quick glance, her lips curving into a smirk. “I know. No need to state the obvious, Hamza.”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Confidence suits you, but don’t let it get to your head.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she shot back. “I’ve seen enough of your oversized ego to know how not to let it consume me.”

Their lighthearted exchange continued throughout the day, but there was an unspoken agreement between them—a mutual understanding to keep things halal. They refrained from crossing any physical boundaries, not even a handshake or a hug, out of respect for their shared values.

Later in the evening, as the nikaah ceremony concluded and Zobia became Furqan’s wife, Sehar couldn’t help but feel a mix of happiness and sadness. The day had been beautiful, but it also marked a turning point for her and Hamza.

As the guests began to leave and the house quieted down, Sehar found herself on the terrace, staring at the stars. She had hoped for a moment of solitude to process everything, but she wasn’t surprised when Hamza joined her.

“Big day, huh?” he said, his voice softer than usual.

She nodded, her gaze still fixed on the sky. “Yeah. It’s strange, isn’t it? Seeing Zobia aapi start a new chapter of her life.”

Hamza leaned against the railing, his eyes on her. “It’ll be our turn someday.”

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

He smirked, but there was a hint of seriousness in his expression. “I am. But for now, we have to focus on what’s in front of us—our exams, our goals.”

Sehar sighed, knowing what was coming. They had discussed it briefly during the nikaah preparations. Their playful flirtation and growing closeness couldn’t continue if they wanted to honor their shared decision to keep things halal.

“So,” she said, crossing her arms, “this is it, then? No more late-night talks, no more banter?”

“Not until we’re ready,” he replied, his voice steady. “We owe it to ourselves and to each other to do this the right way.”

She bit her lip, her heart heavy. “I’m going to miss you.”

He gave her a small smile, his eyes softening. “I’ll miss you too. But this isn’t goodbye, Sehar. It’s just... a pause.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their words settling over them.

“Promise me one thing,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation.

“Don’t forget this,” she said, gesturing between them. “Whatever happens, don’t forget how we feel right now.”

“I won’t,” he said, his voice firm. “And you won’t either.”

With that, they shared one last look before parting ways. From the next day onward, they kept their distance, focusing on their studies and avoiding situations where they might be alone together. Their usual banter was replaced with polite exchanges, their stolen glances replaced with purposeful avoidance.

It was difficult, but they both knew it was necessary. The connection they had built was too important to risk rushing. They would wait, trusting that the right time would come for them to truly be together. Until then, they would carry the memory of their terrace conversation—a promise unspoken but deeply understood.

A year had passed since Hamza left for New York, embarking on an impressive career at a multinational company. The distance between him and Sehar had grown, but so had the unspoken bond they shared. Sehar, on the other hand, had decided to stay in her hometown, building her career at a local firm. Life had settled into a rhythm for both, yet something always felt incomplete.

When news broke that Hamza was returning to Pakistan for a short visit, both families were elated. Raniya quickly arranged a dinner at the Tahir house to celebrate his homecoming. Hamza, ever the family man, complied without hesitation. On the evening of the dinner, he decided to keep things traditional and wore a crisp white kurta with intricate embroidery, a look that suited him perfectly.

As the family made their way to the Tahir house, Hamza tried to keep his thoughts in check, though an underlying excitement tugged at him. He hadn’t seen Sehar in a year, and despite their distance, her presence had lingered in his mind.

When they arrived, Hamza was greeted warmly by Sehar’s parents, Farheen and her father. But as his eyes scanned the room, they landed on Sehar, standing near the living room door in a soft pink dress. The soft hues complemented her glowing skin, and her hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She looked breathtaking, and Hamza, despite his composed demeanor, couldn’t help but stare.

Sehar caught his gaze and, with her usual playful tone, said, “What’s wrong, Hamza? Forget how to walk in all your time abroad?”

Hamza smirked, regaining his composure. “I didn’t realize the local fashion show was happening here tonight. Should I applaud?”

She rolled her eyes, muttering something about his inflated ego, but her cheeks turned a faint pink.

As everyone gathered around the dining table, the atmosphere was filled with laughter and chatter. The two families were close-knit, their conversations flowing easily. Hamza found himself stealing glances at Sehar, who was busy serving dishes and making sure everyone was comfortable.

It was during one such moment, as Sehar poured water for her father, that Raniya cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Sehar,” Raniya began with a smile, “you’ve always been so efficient at organizing things.”

Sehar, setting the jug down, turned to her curiously. “Thank you, Aunty. Is there something specific you need help with?”

Raniya nodded, her tone cheerful. “Yes, actually. Prepare yourself to arrange a wedding.”

Sehar’s eyes widened in surprise. “A wedding? Whose?”

Hamza, who had been sipping water, froze mid-drink. His curiosity was piqued, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on his mother.

Raniya leaned back in her chair, her smile widening. “Hamza’s, of course.”

The room fell into a stunned silence for a moment before Hamza choked on his water, coughing violently. Zobia rushed to pat his back while Sehar’s expression was a mix of shock and disbelief. Her wide eyes darted between Raniya and Hamza.

“Wait, what?” Sehar finally managed to say, her voice shaky.

Hamza, still recovering, shot his mother a panicked look. “Ammi! What are you saying?”

Raniya shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just letting everyone know. It’s about time we settle these things, don’t you think?”

Hamza’s ears turned red as he fumbled for words, clearly caught off guard. Meanwhile, Sehar felt a strange knot in her stomach, though she couldn’t quite understand why.

“Ammi,” Hamza said, his voice strained but steady, “shouldn’t I be involved in this discussion?”

Raniya raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “You’re involved now, aren’t you?”

Farheen and Sehar’s father exchanged amused glances, while Zobia tried to hide her giggles. The situation was equal parts awkward and hilarious.

Sehar, on the other hand, was grappling with her emotions. Why did the thought of Hamza getting married bother her so much? And why couldn’t she look at him without feeling a strange mix of frustration and... something else?

“Excuse me,” she muttered, rising from her seat. “I’ll get dessert.”

As Sehar walked into the kitchen, Hamza excused himself and followed her, much to everyone’s amusement. When he found her pacing near the counter, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

“You okay there, Miss Wedding Planner?” he teased, though his voice carried an edge of nervousness.

Sehar spun around, glaring at him. “Don’t call me that. And don’t think for a second that I’m planning anything for your wedding.”

Hamza tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Jealous, are we?”

Her cheeks flushed, but she masked it with a scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” he echoed, stepping closer. “Why? Didn’t think anyone would want to marry me?”

She folded her arms, her gaze steady. “No, I just didn’t think you’d settle for someone other than yourself. You’re pretty obsessed with yourself, after all.”

He chuckled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “Touché. But for the record, I had no idea Ammi was planning this. Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Sehar raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that?”

Hamza sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Believe what you want. But if this bothers you so much, maybe you should figure out why.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she was speechless. But before she could retort, Zobia called them back to the table.

As they returned, the room was filled with warmth and laughter, but beneath it all, an unspoken tension lingered between Hamza and Sehar. Both were grappling with emotions they weren’t ready to confront, yet the connection between them was undeniable.

The night ended with smiles and farewells, but Hamza couldn’t shake the image of Sehar’s shocked face, nor could Sehar forget the knot in her stomach when Raniya had announced Hamza’s potential wedding. Something was shifting between them, and neither knew what the future held—but they both felt it.