6.

The days leading up to Seher and Feras's wedding were suffocating. The house was a whirlwind of activity... decorations, shopping trips, and endless discussions about every little detail. For me, it was another set of duties to add to my already endless list. If I wasn't helping with the arrangements, I was running errands or assisting Chachi with the guests who had begun arriving.

Despite the busyness around me, I couldn't stop thinking about the garden encounter with Feras. His words had replayed in my mind so many times that they felt like they'd been etched into my soul. "Take care of yourself," he'd said, with a coldness that didn't quite mask something deeper.

Yet it wasn't just the memory of his words that lingered. It was the way he'd said my name, the way his sharp gaze felt like it could see right through me. And then there was the way he always stiffened when I called him "Feras bhai," as if the title was a thorn in his side.

Even now, as I carried a tray of chai into the living room for the guests, I could feel his presence. He was sitting in one corner, leaning slightly forward, discussing something with Uncle Ahmed. His calm, authoritative tone dominated the conversation, making it clear that he was the one in control, as always.

I placed the tray on the table and began pouring the tea, keeping my gaze low. But the moment I moved closer to him, I felt his eyes flicker toward me. I hesitated for a moment, but I quickly placed his cup on the table before retreating to the safety of the kitchen.

Ayub was waiting for me there, sitting on a stool with her arms crossed. Her face was a mixture of frustration and sadness, and I knew immediately what was bothering her.

"I don't like it, Api," she said as soon as I walked in. "This whole wedding thing."

I sighed, setting the empty tray down on the counter. "Ayub, not now. There's too much going on already."

She stood up, her voice rising slightly. "But it's not right! You love him... I know you do. How can you just stand by and let this happen?"

I froze, my back to her. "Ayub," I said quietly, "please. Don't say such things."

"But it's true," she argued, stepping closer. "And you know it. He doesn't even like Seher. Everyone can see it... except maybe Chachi and Taya-abbu."

I turned to face her, keeping my expression neutral. "It doesn't matter what I feel, Ayub. Feras is older, wiser, and knows what's best for himself. We have no right to question his choices."

She looked at me like I'd just said something ridiculous. "His choice? You really think he had a say in this? Chachi pushed for this because she wants Seher to marry into Ahmed Uncle's wealth. And Feras bhai..." She paused, her lips tightening. "Feras bhai is just going along with it because he doesn't care enough to fight back."

I wanted to deny it, to defend his decision, but the words wouldn't come. Ayub was right—Feras didn't seem invested in this marriage at all.

Before I could respond, Ayaan walked into the kitchen, his usual cheerful expression replaced with a scowl. "What's with the gloomy faces?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

"Nothing," I said quickly, but Ayub wasn't as discreet.

"She's upset about the wedding," she said, crossing her arms.

Ayaan raised an eyebrow at me. "You're upset? Well, you're not the only one."

I blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, but his expression was serious. "I've been telling Feras bhai for weeks that this is a mistake. Seher's not the kind of person who'll make him happy."

I frowned, confused. "Why do you say that?"

"Let's just say she's not as innocent as she pretends to be," Ayaan said cryptically. "I've seen her around campus. She's always hanging out with guys, laughing and joking like she doesn't have a care in the world. And don't get me started on how she talks about this family when she thinks no one's listening."

Ayub's eyes widened. "Then why isn't anyone doing anything about it?"

"Because no one wants to question Chachi's decisions," Ayaan replied bitterly. "And Feras bhai... well, you know how he is. He probably thinks this marriage is just another business deal he has to go through with."

I felt a pang in my chest at Ayaan's words. It hurt to think that Feras might see something as sacred as marriage in such a cold, detached way. But then again, wasn't that just who he was?

Ayaan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I've done what I can to talk sense into him, but you know Feras bhai. He's as stubborn as they come. If he's made up his mind, there's no changing it."

I nodded slowly, though my heart felt heavy. "Thank you, Ayaan," I said softly. "For trying."

He gave me a small, sad smile. "You don't have to thank me, Anam. You and Ayub are like my sisters. I just want to see you both happy."

Ayub gave him a grateful look, but I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. Because deep down, I knew that no amount of trying would change what was already written.

...

The following days were a blur of activity. I spent most of my time in the background, helping with the decorations and handling last-minute tasks. The house was full of relatives, and everywhere I turned, someone was discussing Feras and Seher's impending marriage.

I did my best to stay out of sight, but there were moments when I couldn't avoid him.

Once, while arranging flowers in the living room, Feras walked in, his usual composed expression in place. He was speaking to Uncle Ahmed about the guest list, his tone curt and efficient. I kept my head down, arranging the flowers carefully, hoping he wouldn't notice me.

"Anam."

His voice made me jump slightly, and I turned to see him watching me with that same unreadable gaze.

"Yes, Feras bhai?"

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, I frowned not knowing why he made that expression. "Make sure the catering staff knows about the schedule. I don't want any delays on the day of the event."

"Yes, of course," I murmured, keeping my voice steady.

He nodded once before turning back to his conversation with Uncle Ahmed. But as I walked away, I couldn't help but feel his eyes linger on me for just a moment longer than necessary.