23.

Feras sat in his room, the silence pressing down on him like a weight. The chaos of the day had subsided, but his mind refused to quiet. It wasn't the anger from earlier, nor the biting words of Chachi or Seher that plagued him now... it was her. Anam. Her tear-streaked face, the way she stood silently while venom was hurled at her.

His brow furrowed as he leaned back, his arms resting on the chair. Why can't I stop thinking about her? he asked himself, frustration bubbling within. His mind betrayed him, flashing memories of her. The way she hurried to make his meals, her flushed face when she stumbled into his arms, the softness in her eyes when she dared to look at him.

He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "Yeh kya ho raha hai mujhe?" he muttered under his breath. Feras wasn't a man prone to sentimental distractions. His life had always been about control—control over his emotions, over his business, over his family. But this girl, with her quiet strength and unshakable faith, seemed to slip through the cracks of his carefully constructed armor. (What's happening to me?)

No, this isn't love, he told himself, almost defiantly. He tightened his fists, as though trying to crush the feelings before they grew roots. She's just my responsibility. That's all she is. Nothing more, nothing less.

He scoffed at the thought. Love wasn't real, not in his world. It was a fleeting illusion, something he had once believed in but now dismissed as a childish fantasy. His mind drifted back to the past, to the life he'd left behind. He had lived recklessly during his university years, indulging in the haram relationships that seemed all too normal in his circle of friends. He had been with many women, but there had been one he thought he loved—Zoya. She was confident, charming, and worldly, everything he thought he wanted at the time.

He had believed they were meant to be. They'd made plans, shared dreams, and for a while, he had thought she would be the one standing beside him for the rest of his life. But then the year his mother passed away, everything fell apart. Zoya had cheated on him. The betrayal had been a brutal blow, not just to his heart but to his pride, his belief in loyalty and trust. It was as if the world he'd built with her crumbled in an instant, leaving him with nothing but anger and emptiness.

Her betrayal had been a wake-up call, though. He had thrown himself into the family business after that, dedicating every waking moment to work, to something he could control. He left behind the haram relationships, the fleeting pleasures, and the false promises. But even as he cleaned up his actions, his heart had remained cold and hardened. He might not have indulged in sins anymore, but neither had he sought faith. The wounds Nida left behind had made him indifferent, and he had convinced himself that love was nothing more than a foolish illusion.

But then came Anam. Anam, he thought, her name stirring something unsettling in him. She was different. Her presence was unlike anyone he had ever known.

She was different—too different. Her faith, her steadfastness, the way she prayed five times a day with unwavering devotion. Even the choice she made to embrace being Shia... a decision that had created ripples in the family.

Feras had once resented her choice to become Shia... it wasn't something he could easily accept... but even in that, he had seen her piety, her strength.

Women like her, he had thought, didn't exist anymore, at least in this generation. But she was proof that they did. And it terrified him.

Her presence in the house had started to shift something inside him. Her quiet encouragement to pray, her reminders about the importance of God in their lives... it had made him rethink his own practices. He wasn't a diligent Muslim, far from it. His prayers were inconsistent, and his heart often wandered toward worldly pursuits. But Anam's sincerity, her unwavering dedication, had inspired him in ways he couldn't admit to anyone, not even himself.

Yet, he hesitated. His thoughts turned dark as he remembered the betrayal he had suffered, not just from Zoya but from Seher too.

He exhaled deeply, his thoughts returning to the niqah day. He had been prepared to marry Seher, to fulfill his family's wishes. He hadn't loved her, but he thought he could tolerate her... and she was pretty. Then came the betrayal. The revealing of her actions on that day had been the final nail in the coffin of his belief in love. How could he trust anyone when even his own cousin... his supposed bride... had humiliated his family?

Love doesn't exist, he told himself, his jaw tightening.

Love, he concluded bitterly, was a dangerous illusion. It didn't exist, not truly.

His mind returned to Anam once more, her flushed face earlier that day, her tears when Chachi had humiliated her, and her soft, pained voice admitting she had only eaten an apple. Her pain shouldn't have affected him this much, but it had.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. She's just my responsibility, he reminded himself. Nothing more. He couldn't allow himself to think otherwise. Not after everything he'd been through. Not after the scars left behind by people he had once trusted.

But as much as he tried to push the thoughts away, one truth lingered in his mind: no matter how much he denied it, Anam had already changed something in him. And it terrified him.

....

Ayan knocked on the door and peeked inside, grinning mischievously. "Bhai, Abbu's calling you," he announced, walking into the room without waiting for a response. He plopped down casually on the edge of Feras's bed, clearly in a teasing mood. "I see you've been deep in thought again," Ayan continued, eyes gleaming with playful curiosity. "Let me guess... thinking about Anam, right?"

Feras frowned, his focus momentarily snapped from his thoughts. He shot Ayan a sharp glaree, irritated, but Ayan just laughed, unbothered by the look. "No need to get all serious, bhai," Ayan teased, rolling his eyes. "It's obvious. You can't fool me."

Feras, not wanting to engage, stood up to walk toward the door. Ayan was quick to add, "Chalein, chalein... abbu ko dekhlein, warna woh bhi apki tarah gusse wala mun bana lenghe,". Throwing Feras one last playful smirk before rushing out.

(Alright, alright... just go see dad, otherwise he'll make a face just like yours, all angry!)

Ayan made his way down the hall toward the kitchen. As he pushed the door open, his eyes immediately landed on Ayub, who was sitting casually at the counter, spooning large bites of ice cream into her mouth. Ayan's expression shifted to one of mock horror as he froze in his tracks.

"Ayub!" he exclaimed dramatically, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What are you doing? Is that the ice cream I saved for myself?!"

Ayub, clearly unbothered, raised an eyebrow and took another bite. "Well, looks like it's mine now," she said nonchalantly, not even looking up at him. "I was hungry."

Ayan's jaw dropped. "You're seriously eating the one I put in the freezer just for myself? After I specifically told you—"

Ayub cut him off, smiling sweetly but with a teasing glint in her eyes. "You never said it was yours," she said innocently. "You just said you bought it. And besides, I'm pretty sure it's too late for you to be eating ice cream anyway." She gave him a knowing look, nudging the freezer door closed with her hip.

Ayan stepped forward, dramatically clutching his chest, as if she'd just stabbed him in the heart. "You're so evil! That ice cream was special!" he whined. "I was looking forward to it all day. You've sealed your fate now, Ayub. You're done!"

Ayub just grinned, looking up at him with mock innocence. "Oh, come on. It's not like I ate the whole thing. There's still a little left."

Ayub, seemingly unaffected by his theatrics, casually put down the ice cream tub and leaned back on her chair.

The teasing, the banter... it was all a way for her to hide how much she cared. She hadn't realized it herself, but every little moment with him, every playful exchange, meant more to her than she cared to admit.

Ayan's eyes narrowed, and he made a move toward the freezer, but Ayub quickly hopped off the counter and blocked him with a playful laugh. "I swear, Ayan bhai, if you try to take the rest, I'll make sure to fill Feras bhais ears against you ."

Ayan paused, considering his options. "You're going to get me in trouble with Feras over ice cream?" he said in mock disbelief. "That's so low, even for you."

Ayub raised her hands in surrender, chuckling. "Fine, fine. I'll let you have the rest. But next time, don't get between me and my snacks."

Ayub quickly stood up, her hand brushing his shoulder as she passed him, but the brief touch made Ayan's heart race. She was still her usual self... teasing, carefree... but there was something that made his heart go mad. The playful banter masked something deeper, but neither of them was ready to admit it. Ayub, especially, buried her feelings under layers of humor and carefreeness, not knowing the depth of her attachment to Ayan.

Ayan finally gave her a resigned sigh, shaking his head. "I'll remember this, Ayub. You've earned yourself a few pranks in the future."

The two shared a mischievous grin before Ayan finally grabbed the ice cream carton and took a scoop, pretending to give her an exaggerated glare. "This better be the last time," he said with mock seriousness.

"Deal," Ayub laughed, unbothered, as she watched him dig in, the banter between them continuing as if nothing had happened.

.....

Feras entered the dimly lit study, his footsteps firm but hesitant. The walls were lined with bookshelves, the scent of aged leather and paper mixing with the faint trace of his father's cologne. Ahmed sat behind the large oak desk, his sharp features illuminated by the warm glow of a lamp. Feras could see the look in his father's eyes... a mix of pride and something more...

"Feras, aao betho," Ahmed gestured to the chair across from him. (Feras, come sit)

Feras complied, his broad frame settling into the seat. His father's silence was unnerving, his gaze piercing as though he were measuring something.

Ahmed finally spoke, his voice calm but commanding. "You remind me of your grandfather, you know. Every time I look at you, it's like seeing him again... the way you carry yourself, the way you handle things. His presence was just like this: calm, authoritative, but always with a sense of duty."

Feras shifted slightly, taken aback by the comparison. He didn't reply, knowing his father wasn't finished.

Ahmed leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. "It's time, Feras. Tomorrow, we'll hold Anam's rukhsati. She will move into your room."

The words hit Feras like a blow. His expression hardened instantly. "Baba, this isn't necessary," he said firmly, his voice low but steady.

Ahmed raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the protest. "And why isn't it necessary?"

Feras hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "She's fine in her room. She's comfortable there. Shifting her to mine... it'll create distractions. I have work to focus on, responsibilities that need my full attention."

Ahmed's expression didn't waver. His sharp eyes bore into Feras. "Distractions? She's your wife, Feras. If anything, her presence should ground you, not distract you. This isn't just about convenience... it's about fulfilling the rights and responsibilities of a marriage."

Feras clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling under his calm exterior. "Abbu, I respect Anam. I've done everything to ensure she's treated well. But I don't think—"

Ahmed's hand slammed onto the desk, not hard but firm enough to cut Feras off. His voice was sharp, brooking no argument. "This isn't up for debate, Feras. Tomorrow, we will do her rukhsati."

Feras stiffened, his pride warring with his sense of duty. "But—"

"One word, Feras." Ahmed's voice dropped lower, carrying the weight of authority that Feras had grown up respecting. "One word, and this conversation ends here. You will do what's required of you."

Feras inhaled deeply, his fists clenching on the armrests of the chair. He couldn't argue with his father... not when that hard gaze was fixed on him. Ahmed had never been the type to compromise...

After a long pause, Feras finally nodded, though his expression was grim. "As you wish, Abbu," he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Ahmed leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Good."

Feras stood, his mind already racing. He couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest. Having Anam so close, sharing the same space, would unravel the careful distance he had built between them. He wasn't sure if he could handle it.

As he left the study, Ahmed watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.