9| Sweet Dreams

S W E E T D R E A M S

Were you guys waiting?

W O R D C O U N T: 2343

Anaabiya felt warmth enveloping her, a firm arm wrapped securely around her waist. She stirred slightly, feeling the heat of another body pressed against her back. A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as she shifted, instinctively turning toward the source of this warmth.

Her palm brushed against bare skin—solid, warm, familiar.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her breath hitched.

Humza.

He was right there, his face inches from hers, his chest rising and falling beneath her fingertips. Her gaze drifted to the faint scar on his forehead, and before she could think, her fingers traced over it, the touch featherlight.

He stirred, his lashes lifting slightly, and then—

His lips brushed against hers.

A spark. A jolt. Something sharp and consuming unraveled deep inside her. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears. The world around her blurred, the only thing real was the touch—the fire—the way everything within her seemed to ignite at once.

A gasp tore from her throat, and suddenly, she was awake.

Panting.

Anaabiya shot upright in bed, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. Her fingers flew to her lips, rubbing them as if she could erase the lingering sensation. Her entire body was hot, her breaths uneven.

What was wrong with her?

How could she dream of something like this?

She pressed her hands to her face, willing herself to calm down, but her pulse refused to slow.

This wasn't real. It was just a dream.

A dream she never should have had.

Stupid

Idiot

Anaabiya blinked the sleep out of her eyes and glanced at the clock. There was less than an hour left until dawn.

She turned to her nightstand, reaching blindly for her water bottle, but when she tipped it against her lips, nothing came out. Empty.

With a sigh, she swung her legs off the bed, wrapping her hijab loosely around her head. Maybe going downstairs to refill it was a good idea. Hopefully, the commotion from earlier had died down, and everyone had retired for the night. She could use a moment of peace, a distraction from the unsettling dream still clinging to the edges of her mind.

But as soon as she stepped out into the corridor, she froze.

A sound echoed through the silent hallway. Soft at first. Then louder.

A woman's moan.

Her stomach twisted.

The sound came from the room next to Humza's. Malika's room.

It was followed by the rhythmic creak of bed springs, a steady thump against the walls.

Anaabiya felt her blood turn cold.

She didn't need to see anything to know exactly what was happening. And worse—she didn't need to think too hard to guess who was behind that closed door.

Bile rose in her throat.

Malika. And Humza.

Couldn't they wait for him to get better to do this?

She clenched her jaw, her fingers curling into fists. A part of her told her to turn around, go back to her room, pretend she had never heard anything. But another part—the part that still hadn't made sense of why she had dreamt about him, why she had felt anything at all—refused to just stand there, doing nothing.

What was the point of ruining her life if he was going to continue doing whatever he wanted but she wasn't free to do what she wanted to? He could have married Malika. He could have spared her from this. But no, he had to drag her into his twisted life, into his suffocating world, while he did as he pleased.

She hated him.

Hated herself more for even dreaming of him.

With burning anger, she stomped down the stairs, cursing him under her breath, clutching the empty bottle in her hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Disgusting. He was disgusting.

"Scumbag," she muttered under her breath, frustration lacing her voice. "You are such an idiot."

Still cursing herself, Anaabiya walked into the kitchen, completely unaware of the man seated at the dining table. Lost in her thoughts, she kept grumbling, the dim lighting doing little to ground her back to reality.

"How can you dream about him like this? You buffoon," she huffed, moving towards the switchboard, her fingers fumbling for the buttons. The second she flipped them on, a deep voice cut through the air.

"What dream?"

Her breath hitched.

Anaabiya whipped around so fast she nearly lost her balance. And there he was—Humza. Shirtless. Just like her dream.

Sitting at the dining table in nothing but black trousers, a white bandage wrapped around his side. His dark hair was neatly combed, yet a few strands had fallen over his forehead. A bowl of food sat in front of him, and he was eating. In the dark.

Who does that?

Her heart pounded against her ribs. Then, as the shock settled, realization dawned.

It wasn't him upstairs with Malika.

Unknowingly, she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding.

"You're here," she blurted before she could stop herself.

Humza raised an eyebrow. "Where else would I be?"

She quickly looked away, mumbling, "Nowhere."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "You sighed in relief just now."

"No, I didn't." She answered almost immediately.

"You did." He leaned back in his chair, watching her with sharp amusement. "What exactly did you dream about?"

Anaabiya's entire body went rigid. Her cheeks flamed as she spun around and marched straight to the fridge, desperate to escape the conversation.

"None of your business," she snapped, grabbing the water bottle.

"Oh, I've told you so many times that it is. Anything you do is my business. At least for a year." He took another casual bite of his food. "Now C'mon tell me. I am curious. I mean, you were practically calling yourself an idiot over it."

She gritted her teeth, refilling her bottle with shaky hands.

"Shut up."

Humza chuckled. "Must've been interesting if it's got you acting this jumpy."

She turned around, glaring. "Go to hell."

He simply shrugged. "Already living in it, sweetheart."

Her stomach flipped at the nickname, and she cursed herself for reacting. She lifted the bottle to her lips, gulping down the water as if that would wash away the embarrassment.

For a brief second, she caught him staring.

Not in a mocking way.

Just watching.

The air shifted.

A part of her wanted to ask him.

What happened?

How did you get hurt?

Are you okay?

But she didn't.

He had told her to mind her own business before. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of thinking she cared.

This wasn't care, she told herself.

It was just curiosity. Maybe concern, but that was only basic humanity.

Nothing else.

She assured herself of that.

"Well you better be enjoying your hell with this creepy midnight meal and stop meddling with my life," she said.

Suddenly, Humza rose from the table, picking up the bowl he was eating from.

Anaabiya's brows furrowed as she watched him approach her, each step deliberate, measured.

Her body tensed as she instinctively took a step back, but there was nowhere to go—her back hit the counter.

His eyes never left hers.

Nearer.

Closer.

Almost touching.

Her breath hitched, heart racing. He was right there, invading every bit of space around her. His scent, his warmth, the quiet dominance in his gaze—it was suffocating.

Then he leaned in.

"What are you doing?" she whispered breathlessly, her voice barely audible.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for something—anything.

Then—

She heard a distant clatter of utensils being placed in the sink behind her.

Her eyes flew open.

Humza's face was still close, but now he wasn't leaning anymore, his lips curled into a smirk, mischief flickering in his dark eyes.

"Sweet dreams," he murmured before casually turning away, leaving her standing there, stunned, breathless, and utterly furious at herself.

She froze for a fraction of a second, her grip tightening around the bottle.

It wasn't just what he said—it was the way he said it. Smug. Knowing. Like he could see right through her.

He always made her feel that way, like she was an open book and he was effortlessly flipping through the pages. It was infuriating.

She knew he was teasing her.

And that made it even worse.

She hurriedly walked back to her own room hoping she would not run into him again.

The encounter had left her sleepless for hours.

The Next Morning Anaabiya sat at the dining table, stirring her tea absentmindedly as Bibijaan and Maliha moved around, setting the table. The smell of freshly made parathas and eggs filled the air, but her mind was elsewhere.

She hated to admit it, but the events of last night still lingered in her mind. The blood. The tension. The way Humza had barely reacted to the pain, as if it was just another part of his life. And then there was the dream and the brief encounter with him that followed. All of it was too overwhelming.

As Bibijaan placed a bowl of fruit in front of her, she finally gave in to her thoughts. "How is he?"

Bibijaan looked up, her face unreadable for a moment before she understood who Anaabiya was referring to. "He is better. He left for work early today."

Anaabiya frowned. "He was injured last night, and he's already back to work?"

Maliha snorted, sitting down beside her. "You think a small wound like that would stop Humza bhai?" She tore off a piece of her paratha, dipping it into the yogurt. "If anything, he's probably angrier than usual."

He certainly didn't look very angry to her last night in the kitchen.

Anaabiya hesitated before asking, "How did it happen?"

Bibijaan and Maliha exchanged a glance before Maliha leaned in slightly. "One of his own men betrayed him."

Anaabiya's grip on her spoon tightened.

"It was an attack from a rival gang," Maliha continued in a more serious tone. "Humza bhai and Asad were cornered. They fought back, but one of the men managed to strike him with a knife."

Anaabiya inhaled sharply.

"By then, Huzaifa had arrived with backup," Bibijaan added, her voice calm but firm. "That's how they managed to bring Humza back home."

Anaabiya blinked, trying to process what she was hearing. "So... this is normal?"

Maliha shrugged. "Not normal, but not shocking either. People have tried to harm him before, but Humza bhai is careful. Most attempts fail before they even happen."

Anaabiya's stomach twisted. "And you're all just... used to this?"

Maliha gave her a sad smile. "When someone holds as much power as he does, enemies are inevitable." She exhaled. "It's not a life anyone chooses to be in, but once you're in, there's no way out."

Anaabiya didn't respond. She just stared at her tea, the steam curling into the air.

She should've felt indifferent.

She should've reminded herself that none of this was her concern.

But for some reason, the thought of someone trying to kill Humza... unsettled her.

As soon as Bibijaan stood up to take the utensils to the sink, Maliha leaned in, lowering her voice.

"Did you hear anything last night? Malika brought a man home." she asked, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Anaabiya stiffened slightly. She hesitated before answering, "I... did." She looked around, feeling ridiculous for even talking about this. "At first, I thought it was Humza and Malika."

Maliha raised a brow, waiting for her to continue.

"But then I saw him in the kitchen," Anaabiya admitted. "So, obviously, it wasn't him."

At that, Maliha burst into quiet laughter, covering her mouth to keep it from being too loud.

"Of course, it wasn't him." She smirked, shaking her head.

Anaabiya frowned. "What do you mean?"

Maliha leaned back, crossing her arms. "I mean, they don't share that kind of bond."

Anaabiya blinked. "Not physically?"

Maliha nodded. "Not physically." Then, as if she couldn't help herself, she added, "Not that Malika never tried... or isn't still trying." She smirked. "But Humza bhai didn't let it happen."

Anaabiya's brows furrowed as she absorbed that information.

"Their relationship is... weird." Maliha shrugged. "Nobody knows what to call it or make of it. She's always been around. Close enough to seem important, but never close enough to actually be... something."

Anaabiya frowned. "Then why is she still here?"

Maliha exhaled, as if that was the million-dollar question. "That's what no one knows."

Have a good day peeps!

E D I T E D on 12.2.2025