10| Checkmate

C H E C K M A T E

W O R D  C O U N T: 2288

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One evening, Anaabiya had been sitting in the hall when she heard the door bell ring. She hadn't expected visitors that evening, so when Rafiya Aunty arrived, a part of her was genuinely surprised. It was a pleasant surprise, though. Humza's mother had always been warm toward her, a stark contrast to the hostility she often faced in this house.

She led Rafiya Aunty to the sitting area, where Bibijaan brought in tea and snacks. The older woman looked around, smiling approvingly. "I was worried you'd feel lonely here," she said, gently squeezing Anaabiya's hand.

Anaabiya forced a small smile. "I manage."

Humza's father was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn't help but make a mental note to ask about the strange relationship between him and Humza. It wasn't normal for a father to be so absent from his son's life, not even showing up when he was injured.

As they sat there, chatting about small things—food, the house, the staff—Anaabiya found herself relaxing for the first time in days. It felt nice to talk to someone who didn't have an agenda, who wasn't trying to mock or belittle her.

Then, the front door opened.

Anaabiya straightened as she recognized the sound of Humza's footsteps. He walked in, looking as sharp as ever, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face showed no signs of exhaustion despite the long day he must have had.

His mother immediately stood up. "Humza! You're home." She walked toward him, concern etched on her face. "How are you feeling now? You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?"

Humza smiled "I'm fine, mother."

Rafiya Aunty eyed him skeptically. "Fine?" she repeated, glancing at the side of his stomach where she knew the wound was. "You don't look fine."

"I've had worse," he said with a casual shrug.

She sighed, shaking her head. Then, as if remembering something, she turned toward Anaabiya with a sudden glint of curiosity in her eyes. "Has he been treating you well, my love?"

Anaabiya blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Before she could respond, Humza spoke.

"Of course, I have," he said smoothly, stepping closer.

And then, before she could react, he draped an arm around her shoulders.

Anaabiya's entire body went rigid.

She was suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the warmth of his arm, the solid weight of it resting against her, the way his fingers grazed her upper arm ever so lightly.

She didn't dare look up at him, but she could feel the smugness radiating off him. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Rafiya Aunty beamed at them. "That's good to hear. I was worried for no reason, then."

Anaabiya forced a tight-lipped smile, trying not to look as stiff as she felt. But Humza's grip on her only tightened slightly, as if daring her to push him away in front of his mother.

She didn't.

Instead, she swallowed hard, her mind racing.

What game was he playing now?

Rafiya Aunty settled comfortably back onto the couch, sipping her tea as she turned to Humza with a thoughtful look.

"Have you taken Anaabiya out anywhere yet?" she asked casually. "A dinner, lunch—anything?"

Humza, who had been standing next to Anaabiya with his arm still draped around her, stilled for a fraction of a second. It was brief, but she noticed.

He hadn't expected the question.

Anaabiya felt his hesitation and, for once, she saw an opportunity.

Time to play along.

Gathering a bit of courage, she slowly wrapped one hand around his waist, her fingers barely pressing against his side. For just a brief second, she felt his muscles tense even more beneath her touch. She wasn't even sure if she was imagining it.

But she didn't let herself dwell on it.

She let out a small, dramatic sigh and turned to Rafiya Aunty, her expression perfectly innocent. "Not yet, Aunty. I've been telling him to take me out for dinner for so long, but he's just too busy."

The moment the words left her mouth, she felt Humza tense.

She didn't even have to look at him to know she had caught him off guard.

She sounded genuine, her voice carrying just the right amount of disappointment. As if she truly had been waiting for him to take her out.

The shock was now on Humza's face.

Two can play this game.

Rafiya Aunty gasped, clearly scandalized. "Humza! You haven't taken her out even once?"

Humza's jaw twitched, but he masked his surprise quickly. His grip on her shoulder loosened slightly, as if debating whether to pull away or stay in character.

"I—" he started, but his mother didn't let him finish.

"That's unacceptable," Rafiya Aunty declared. "You two are newly married! What will people think? You need to take your wife out properly. Did you marry her to lock her up in here all day?"

Anaabiya bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. She stole a quick glance at Humza, whose face was unreadable.

She had won this round.

"Well," Rafiya Aunty continued, crossing her arms, "what do you have to say for yourself, Humza?"

Humza exhaled slowly, then turned his head slightly to look at Anaabiya.

His gaze was sharp, a silent warning in them.

Anaabiya simply raised her brows at him in challenge.

Checkmate.

"Someday," Humza finally said, sounding bored. "I'll plan something and take her out."

Rafiya Aunty scoffed. "Not someday. You take her out today."

The frustration on Humza's face was evident as his jaw ticked. He ran a hand through his neatly styled hair and sighed. "Not today. I have a party to go to." He checked his watch. "And this reminds me—I'm running late."

With that, he finally removed his arm from around Anaabiya's shoulders. The relief was instant, and she exhaled subtly, glad to have some space again.

"Perfect," Rafiya Aunty said brightly. "Then she'll go with you to the party."

Anaabiya froze.

What?

She turned to protest, but Humza beat her to it. "That's not happening."

"Why not?" Rafiya Aunty challenged, raising an eyebrow. "She's your wife. It's about time you introduce her to your social circle."

Anaabiya's heart pounded. She didn't want to go anywhere with him. The reminiscence of that dream still lingered in her mind, and being alone with him—especially in an environment where he would be in his element—felt like a terrible idea.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Aunty—" Anaabiya started hesitantly, but Rafiya Aunty cut her off.

"Nonsense! You're going. End of discussion."

She turned to Humza, daring him to challenge her decision.

He clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring slightly. Then his gaze snapped to Anaabiya, dark and piercing.

This is your fault. His glare said it all.

Anaabiya swallowed hard.

She had played her game, and now the tables had turned.

"Go get ready, Anaabiya," Rafiya Aunty instructed with a satisfied smile. "And wear something nice."

Anaabiya didn't miss the way Humza scoffed under his breath, his gaze flicking to her like she was an inconvenience he hadn't planned for.

And maybe, right now, she was.

The party was packed. Loud music, glittering lights, and a sea of people filled the grand hall. Anaabiya instantly felt out of place. The moment they stepped in, she noticed how people turned to stare—some with curiosity, others with blatant judgment. Both men and women eyed her, some whispering amongst themselves. It made her skin crawl.

And to make things worse, Humza hadn't spoken a word to her since they left the house. His fury was evident in his stiff posture, in the way he drove recklessly, and now, in the way he abandoned her at the entrance without so much as a glance.

She stood frozen near the doorway, debating whether to turn around, find a cab, and go back home. Was it really worth staying? Did she even belong here?

Before she could act on her thoughts, a familiar voice called out.

"Anaabiya!"

She turned to find Huzaifa making his way toward her, a warm smile on his face. Unlike his brother, he looked genuinely happy to see her.

"You made it," he said, reaching her. "I was wondering if Humza would bring you or leave you locked up in the house." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on, I'll introduce you to my sister."

Grateful for the rescue, she let him lead her through the crowd.

At a corner, surrounded by a group of girls, was Huzaifa's sister. She was dressed in an elegant embroidered gown, looking every bit like a bride-to-be.

"Iqra, meet Anaabiya," Huzaifa introduced with enthusiasm. "Anaabiya, this is my sister, Iqra."

Iqra gave her a friendly smile. "Oh, finally! I've been waiting to meet you."

Anaabiya returned the smile, though it was small. "It's nice to meet you too."

They exchanged a few pleasantries, with Iqra's friends asking Anaabiya questions about her marriage, her life, and how Humza was as a husband. She answered as vaguely as she could, knowing well enough that she couldn't afford to be honest.

After some time, Huzaifa excused himself, and shortly after, Anaabiya did too, needing a moment alone.

She made her way to the refreshment area and ordered a juice. As she waited for it, she turned around, taking in the crowd.

And then, she saw him.

Humza sat on a grand, lavish sofa at one end of the room, surrounded by his usual group of friends. But her eyes didn't linger on them.

They focused on the woman next to him.

She was stunning—long dark hair cascading down her back, a deep red dress hugging her frame perfectly. She was leaning into him, holding his drink in her delicate fingers. And even though Humza was engaged in conversation with the men around him, he made no move to push her away.

In the middle of his conversation, his gaze flickered across the room—and landed on her.

Anaabiya froze.

For a split second, neither of them looked away. It was brief, almost insignificant, but the way his eyes held hers sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. Her fingers curled slightly against the counter, and before she could stop herself, she turned away, staring down at the drink she was waiting for.

She shouldn't have looked.

She shouldn't have cared.

Yet, after a few moments, the pull was too strong. Without meaning to, she glanced over her shoulder again.

He was still seated there, surrounded by people, effortlessly commanding attention. But then, as if he could feel her watching, he turned his head in her direction once more.

And this time—while holding her stare—he shifted, draping an arm around the girl sitting beside him.

The movement was slow, deliberate.

Just like he had done to Anaabiya hours ago, when his mother had been watching.

Only now, there was no audience forcing him to do it.

Her chest tightened.

She didn't know why she felt this strange twist in her stomach, but it worsened when the girl, effortlessly beautiful, leaned into him as if she belonged there.

And then—just to make sure Anaabiya was still looking—he leaned in as well, his lips brushing the girl's ear.

Anaabiya didn't hear what he said. But she didn't need to.

Because the girl giggled, tilting her head toward him, eyes shining with something Anaabiya didn't want to name.

Anaabiya clenched her jaw.

And then, as if to make sure the knife twisted just right, Humza looked up once more—straight at her.

Smirking.

That same cruel, taunting smirk he always gave her when he knew he had won.

The moment shattered.

Reality came crashing back like a slap to the face.

This was Humza's life. This was who he was. And she—she was just a name on a contract.

Nothing more.

Anaabiya let out a slow breath, forcing the weight pressing against her chest to dissolve. What had she expected? That he would suddenly change just because they were bound by an agreement? That he would act like a husband, like someone who cared?

She had been foolish—so foolish.

And the worst part? She hadn't even realized it until now.

Unknowingly, somewhere along the way, she had started seeing this marriage as something real. As something that meant more than just signatures on a piece of paper.

How stupid.

All this time, she had been nothing more than his entertainment.

A game to him.

Like a cat playing with a mouse, toying with it, enjoying its struggle—before delivering the final blow. He had enjoyed teasing her, watching her react, making her question things, only to remind her exactly where she stood.

It had always been a game.

Her grip on the glass tightened for a moment before she loosened it, shrugging off the feeling entirely. It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter.

This was his reality. He was a womanizer, and she was only here for a year.

That was the truth.

She turned away, lifting the glass to her lips as she took a slow sip, letting the cold drink ground her. Then, without a second glance in his direction, she walked toward the other side of the hall where round tables were set up.

She didn't bother looking for him again.

And she wouldn't.

Kindly use the star and rectangular box.♥

E D I T E D on 13.2.2025