31| Say My Name And I'll Stop

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You guys are really sweet♥️

PS: It's a mixed POV

It's fine. It's all fine.

Anaabiya gripped the edges of the washbasin, her knuckles turning white as she leaned forward, trying to steady herself. Cold water dripped from her face, sliding down her skin in rivulets, but it did nothing to wash away the heat still lingering in her cheeks.

Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her—eyes wide, lips slightly parted, her hijab pushed back in disarray. But what caught her attention the most were her lips—swollen.

A fresh wave of embarrassment crashed over her.

I didn't just enjoy that kiss.

No, that wasn't possible. She had simply... reacted. It was just a moment of weakness, a fleeting loss of self-control. Right?

Then why was she still lightheaded? Why did her knees still feel like jelly?

She inhaled deeply. Don't panic.

Exhaling, she tried again. Don't panic.

She clenched her eyes shut and shook her head, as if she could physically rid herself of the memory, of the sensation of his lips pressing against hers—slow, deliberate, and devastatingly real.

What had come over her? It was as if she had been under some kind of spell, bewitched by his touch, drawn into something she had never anticipated.

Her fingers hesitantly brushed over her lips, tracing the phantom of his kiss. The thought of forgetting it should have been comforting, yet something in her chest tightened at the idea.

Husband and wife do these things... right?

But were they really husband and wife?

Yes, the nikah was real, but so was the contract they had signed—binding them together not in love, not in forever, but for a year.

A marriage with an expiration date.

Could such a thing even exist? Could two people be married yet still be temporary, as if their vows held an invisible countdown, ticking away toward an inevitable end?

She swallowed, trying to convince herself. It was fine. It was normal. It didn't mean anything.

Except—what if it did?

A knock on the door startled her, and she jerked upright.

"Anaabiya?" Maliha's voice was laced with concern. "Why are you taking so long? Are you okay?"

Anaabiya blinked rapidly, hastily straightening her hijab as if it would somehow fix the chaos inside her. "Y-Yes!" she stammered, clearing her throat to sound more composed. "I'm coming."

Her hands were still trembling as she turned off the tap and wiped her face dry.

She had to act normal.

The moment she stepped out, Maliha gave her a curious glance, eyes scanning her face as if searching for something. Anaabiya forced a small smile and started walking toward Humza's room, her heart hammering with each step.

Her breathing refused to settle.

Would he bring it up? Would he tease her? Had he even liked it?

Her lips twitched in amusement at her own ridiculous thoughts before she quickly masked it.

She was being insane. It would be better if she ignored him.

But deep down, she knew—this wasn't something she could easily forget.

Humza was bored.

Not the kind of boredom that could be cured by watching TV or scrolling through his phone. No, this was the type that gnawed at him, made him restless, and most importantly—made him want to mess with Anaabiya.

She was standing near the window, arms crossed, stubbornly pretending he didn't exist. It was almost impressive how determined she was to ignore him.

Humza smirked. Let's see how long she can keep this up.

Without warning, he grabbed a pillow and flung it at her.

It hit her back with a soft thump.

Anaabiya turned around slowly, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Did you just throw a pillow at me?"

Humza put on his most innocent face. "It was an accident."

She narrowed her eyes. "An accident?"

"Yes. My hand slipped."

There was a long pause before she grabbed the pillow off the floor. For a moment, he thought she'd let it go—until she suddenly hurled it back at him with surprising force.

It smacked him square in the chest.

Humza's grin widened. "Oh, so that's how it is?"

Anaabiya tilted her chin up. "You started it."

He grabbed another pillow, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm going to finish it."

Before she could react, he launched the second pillow. She let out a startled gasp as it knocked against her shoulder.

"You're ridiculous!" she huffed, grabbing another one.

"You love it," he shot back, already preparing for her counterattack.

What followed could only be described as absolute chaos. Pillows flew across the room, some missing their mark, others landing with solid thumps. Humza, despite his injuries, dodged like his life depended on it, while Anaabiya was quick and unpredictable.

Then, in one swift move, he lunged forward, catching her wrist before she could grab another pillow. She gasped as he pulled her closer.

"Got you," he murmured.

Anaabiya froze, eyes locked onto his. She was close—too close—and he could feel her quickened breath against his skin.

Her lips parted, like she was searching for something—anything—to say.

Then, she did what he least expected.

She stomped on his foot.

Hard.

Humza yelped, releasing her immediately. "Ow! Woman, are you crazy?"

Anaabiya took the chance to grab a pillow and smack him right in the face. "That's what you get!"

He groaned, rubbing his foot while she stood there, arms crossed, looking victorious. "You play dirty."

"I play smart," she corrected.

He narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

Humza shook his head in mock disbelief. "Unbelievable. My own wife, turning against me like this."

Anaabiya gave him a sweet smile. "Next time, think twice before picking a fight with me."

She turned to leave, but Humza wasn't done yet.

Without warning, he grabbed a pillow and swung it—lightly—against her back one last time.

Anaabiya spun around, glaring. "Did you just—?"

Humza grinned, arms crossed. "Revenge."

She exhaled through her nose, muttering something that sounded a lot like I'm going to kill him one day, before walking out of the room.

Humza chuckled, shaking his head as he flopped back onto the bed.

Totally worth it.

Later that day, Anaabiya carefully balanced the tray in her hands, the warmth of the bowl seeping through her fingers as she made her way toward Humza's room. Despite the presence of cooks in the house, she had insisted on making the chicken soup herself. It wasn't out of obligation—at least, that's what she told herself. It wasn't because of the way her heart clenched at the sight of him injured, nor the way an inexplicable need had settled in her chest to care for him. No, it was simply because he had saved her. He had risked his own life so she could live. That was all.

As she reached the door, she paused, her grip tightening around the tray when a familiar voice drifted through the slightly ajar entrance.

"Humza, you have no idea how worried I was about you!" Malika's voice carried the usual dramatic flair, thick with emotion. "I swear, the moment I heard, I rushed here! I didn't care about anything else—I left my friend's house and came straight to see you. Even though I was hurt too! Do you know the doctor advised me to stay in bed?"

Anaabiya scrunched her nose, rolling her eyes before she could help herself. Of course, Malika was making this about her. Typical.

Shifting the tray to one hand, she debated whether to enter the room now or wait until Malika finished her performance. But then again, with Malika, that could take hours.

With a quiet sigh, she pushed the door open, stepping inside.

As she stepped into the room, all eyes instinctively turned toward her, but Anaabiya's gaze locked onto the stunning woman seated comfortably in front of Humza. She lingered near the doorway, balancing the tray in one hand as she took in the sight before her.

Malika was dressed in a fitted light purple ensemble that accentuated her curves effortlessly. Her long, cascading curls framed her face, tumbling over her shoulders and resting on her chest in perfect ringlets. Heavy makeup adorned her features, her lips painted a deep shade of red, and large earrings dangled elegantly from her ears. To complete the look, a pair of sleek black stilettos added to her already poised and polished appearance—she could have easily passed for a model straight off a high-fashion runway.

As if sensing Anaabiya's scrutiny, she turned slightly, her sharp eyes flickering over her before returning to Humza.

"So, what did the doctor say?" she asked, her voice carrying a lilt of concern, though it was impossible to tell whether it was genuine or rehearsed.

Huzaifa, ever the medical enthusiast, took it upon himself to launch into a detailed explanation, breaking down Humza's condition in technical terms that made Malika blink in confusion. The rest of the room gradually lost interest in the conversation, but Humza—he never once looked away from Anaabiya.

His unwavering gaze bore into her, deep and unreadable. Their eyes met, and a sudden tension stretched between them, thick and electric.

Something about the intensity of his stare made her want to shrink back, to disappear before he could read the emotions she was so desperately trying to mask. But instead, she remained rooted to the spot, her breath shallow as she matched his gaze.

Her heart pounded, an erratic rhythm that she couldn't quite place. Was it nervousness? Embarrassment? Or something else entirely?

Humza didn't seem to be paying the slightest attention to Malika's dramatic rambling. His expression was distant, as if his mind was elsewhere entirely.

Just then, Malika's phone buzzed, and with an air of effortless elegance, she raised it to her ear.

"Yes, this is Malika," she answered smoothly, her voice carrying that practiced poise she always seemed to have.

Anaabiya clenched her fingers around the edge of the tray, a strange heaviness settling in her chest as she watched them together. They looked like they belonged in the same frame—like two pieces of a perfect picture. The thought struck her hard, an uncomfortable realization settling in.

What was she even thinking?

Maybe he loved her. Maybe Malika was the one he wanted.

Her heart sank, an invisible weight pressing down on it. She quickly lowered her gaze, suddenly finding the floor far more captivating than anything else in the room. It was easier to stare at it than to face whatever emotions were stirring inside her.

She could still feel Humza's gaze on her, steady and unreadable, but she forced herself to dismiss it. She wouldn't let herself overthink it. He had saved her life, and for that, she was grateful. Nothing more.

She owed him at least this much—to care for him while he recovered. And once he was better, she would step back. She would maintain her distance, just as she had always planned.

On the other end of the call, Malika let out a dramatic sigh. "No, no, I won't be gone long. Someone very dear to me is unwell, and I had to leave in a hurry," she explained, her voice laced with concern. "I was so worried, I didn't even pack properly."

Maliha, standing beside Anaabiya, let out a barely contained snicker. Leaning slightly toward her, she muttered under her breath, "Yeah, right. But she still had time to put on half a bottle of foundation and curl her hair."

Anaabiya's eyes widened as she elbowed Maliha in warning, silently urging her to behave. But Maliha only grinned, clearly amused with herself, before taking the tray from her hands and setting it on the table.

Returning to Anaabiya's side, she shot her a playful look. "What?" she whispered. "I'm just stating facts."

Anaabiya glared at her, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Trust Maliha to lighten even the most awkward of situations.

Anaabiya's gaze shifted back to Humza, and the moment their eyes met, he smiled at her. It wasn't his usual teasing smirk or that arrogant grin he often wore—it was a genuine, warm smile.

But she didn't return it.

The second she looked away, his expression faltered, the smile disappearing as a slight frown took its place.

She wasn't sure what exactly lay between them, what he truly felt for her—if he felt anything at all. Then again, hadn't he already warned her? He wasn't capable of love.

And yet, here she was, thinking about love.

A frustrated sigh almost slipped past her lips. What was wrong with her? Why was she even feeling this way?

For him, this was normal—being surrounded by beautiful women, receiving their attention, having them fawn over him. Malika. Miss Catherine. The countless others she had seen at that party.

She didn't even realize when Malika had ended her call and started speaking again, her voice a steady stream of words that Anaabiya couldn't process. Her thoughts were too chaotic to pay attention.

Then, out of nowhere, Humza interrupted her mid-sentence.

"Malika, I think you should head back. I appreciate you coming, but Huzaifa will drop you off at your friend's place. If you need anything, he'll take care of it," he said, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

Anaabiya blinked, stunned by his abrupt dismissal. But Malika looked even more shocked—and thoroughly embarrassed.

She hesitated for a moment before tucking a loose curl behind her ear, fidgeting with her fingers as if searching for the right words. "Oh... okay. I'll leave for now, but I'll come to check on you again and I can manage my way back, you don't have to send your servant." she finally said, forcing a small smile.

Then, as if needing one last attempt at control, she reached out and placed her hand over Humza's, giving it a light squeeze.

Anaabiya felt her stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in her throat.

The audacity.

She clenched her jaw, not just because of the obvious flirtation, but because of what Malika had said earlier—calling Huzaifa a servant as if he was beneath her. And what infuriated her even more? Humza hadn't defended him.

Before she could react, Humza yanked his hand away from Malika's grip, his expression unreadable. He didn't say a word—just turned his face away, completely uninterested.

Malika hesitated, clearly thrown off by his rejection, but she recovered quickly. She stood up, smoothing down her dress, but before leaving, she shot Anaabiya a pointed glare.

Anaabiya raised an eyebrow in response.

Oh, so now she was the problem?

She watched as Malika strutted out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor, and the moment she was gone, Anaabiya finally let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Anaabiya stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do next.

"Where is everyone else?" Humza asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it.

Huzaifa answered. "Rafiya Aunty and Asad are overseeing the renovation work. We'll be moving you there soon. Ahmed offered to help, and under the circumstances, we couldn't refuse. He's been extremely generous throughout."

Humza gave a small nod in acknowledgment, absorbing the information.

"Do you think someone was behind what happened?" Huzaifa pressed, his voice laced with concern.

Humza was about to respond when Bibijaan cut in. "Enough questions. He needs to eat and rest. He can explain everything when his mother arrives so that everyone hears it at once."

Her tone left no room for argument, and soon, everyone began filing out of the room.

Before leaving, Bibijaan turned to Anaabiya. "Give him the soup now. If you need anything, call me."

Anaabiya saw her chance. "Actually, Bibijaan, I haven't eaten yet. I should eat first—maybe you could feed him instead?"

Bibijaan gave her an unimpressed look, glancing between her and Humza as if trying to decipher what was really going on. "No," she said firmly. "I'm too tired. I haven't slept, and I need to rest. Just do it for now—I'll take over at the next meal."

Anaabiya let out a quiet sigh, realizing she had lost this battle.

Before she could make another excuse, Humza spoke up. "Bring your food here. Eat with me."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Bibijaan immediately backed him up. "Yes, that's a good idea. Eat here. And you should stay here tonight too."

Anaabiya's breath caught in her throat.

"I can't sleep here," she murmured, barely above a whisper.

"Why not?" they both asked at the same time.

She hesitated, unsure of what to say. Her gaze flickered to Humza, but the intensity in his eyes left her momentarily speechless. He was studying her closely, and with each passing second, his expression darkened.

"Anaabiya, I'm exhausted, and my head is killing me," Bibijaan said, her voice softer now but no less firm. "Please stay. If it makes you more comfortable, I'll ask Huzaifa to move a couch in here for you."

Anaabiya knew Bibijaan was genuinely tired, but she also knew that if it had been up to her, she would've stayed no matter how exhausted she was. This was intentional. Bibijaan wanted them to be together.

And deep down, Anaabiya wasn't sure if that terrified her... or if she wanted it too.

As soon as Bibijaan left, Anaabiya sighed and carried the tray to Humza's bedside, settling into the chair beside him.

Humza watched her closely, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You look like you're walking toward a battlefield, not feeding your husband."

She didn't respond, merely lifted the spoon and blew on the hot soup before bringing it toward his lips.

He took the spoonful, then tilted his head slightly. "Are you planning to sit there silently all night?"

Still, she said nothing. She scooped up another spoonful and held it out for him.

"You know, I could feed myself," he mused, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Then do it," she muttered under her breath, barely audible.

His smirk widened. "Ah, so she speaks."

She shot him a brief glare before focusing back on the soup.

"Tell me, Anaabiya," he continued, clearly enjoying himself. "Are you always this quiet after—"

She shoved the spoon into his mouth before he could finish that sentence, making him choke slightly.

She gasped. "Oh! Sorry!"

Humza coughed, covering his mouth while chuckling. "Did you just try to silence me with soup?"

Anaabiya turned away, pretending to adjust her hijab. "You should eat properly. Talking too much isn't good for your health."

Humza grinned. "Noted. But you should also know—ignoring me won't make me stop talking."

She sighed, shaking her head. What was she supposed to do with this man?

After feeding him—barely speaking a word—Anaabiya left the room to have her own dinner, ignoring Humza's protests. True to Bibijaan's words, a red couch was soon placed beside his bed. She exhaled in relief. At least she wasn't asked to sleep on the bed with him, even though it was big enough for ten people.

She made sure to eat away from his watchful gaze before finally returning to his room. But as soon as she stepped in, her brows furrowed. Humza wasn't in bed. She scanned the room and quickly spotted the locked washroom door. Perfect.

Without wasting a second, she darted toward the couch, tossed her hijab aside, and curled up, squeezing her eyes shut. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, she'd be spared another interrogation.

A few moments later, the washroom door creaked open. Her heartbeat stuttered as she heard his footsteps nearing her. His presence was unmistakable—hovering close, radiating warmth. The doctor was right; he was healing fast.

"Anaabiya," he whispered.

She didn't move.

A pause. Then, "How does she fall asleep this fast?"

She wanted to groan. Could he not talk to himself so loudly?

Silence stretched between them, and she assumed he had finally gone back to bed. Just as she was beginning to relax, a sudden loud crash echoed through the room.

"Damn it! I think my head's bleeding again," Humza cursed.

Panic shot through her, and she immediately sat up. "What did you—"

Before she could finish, a heavy weight crashed onto her, knocking the air from her lungs.

Her eyes widened. "Humza, what the—?! Get off me!"

The idiot had somehow rolled off his bed and landed on top of her like an overgrown child.

She squirmed beneath him, struggling to push him away. "The couch is tiny! We're both going to fall, and you're already injured! Move!"

Instead of listening, he smirked down at her, his hands effortlessly pinning hers above her head. His dark eyes held a mischievous glint, but there was something else in them too—something unreadable.

"Not until you tell me why you've been ignoring me," he said, voice low and demanding.

Anaabiya gulped. She almost missed the playful Humza. Almost.

"I'm not ignoring you. Now, will you please get off me?" Anaabiya huffed, her exhaustion evident in her voice. She was too drained to put up a fight, too drowsy to deal with his antics.

Humza, however, had no intention of moving. His dark eyes bore into hers, unrelenting.

"You're a terrible liar," he accused, lips twitching as if he was holding back a smirk.

Anaabiya rolled her eyes. "And you're a terrible patient. Shouldn't you be resting instead of torturing me?"

He leaned in just a little, his gaze sharp with amusement. "Were you jealous?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Oh no. Not this conversation. She suddenly wished she could vanish into thin air.

"Jealous? Of what?" she scoffed, feigning nonchalance.

He smirked. "Of Malika, obviously."

She let out a dry laugh. "Oh, please. Were you jealous of Uzair?"

The second she said it, she knew she had made a mistake.

His grip on her wrists tightened ever so slightly. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to calm himself, but the sudden shift in his demeanor was impossible to miss.

"Jealous? Of him?" Humza scoffed, his voice smooth yet laced with something dangerous. "Why would I be? I already have you."

Anaabiya's breath hitched.

"Hah! Right. That must be why you shot him," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes as she stared pointedly at his empty bed.

Humza tilted his head, lips curling into a smirk. "No, sweetheart. I shot him because he made the mistake of touching you."

Her stomach did an involuntary flip. Oh.

"So, by your logic, I should go around shooting Malika? Or Miss Catherine? Or any of the other dozens of girls you shamelessly flirt with?" Anaabiya raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, wait! Even better—I should shoot you for touching them."

Humza's grin widened like he had just solved the world's greatest mystery.

"Wow. Just wow. You are jealous!" He looked absolutely delighted, like a kid who just found extra candy in his pocket.

"So are you," she shot back.

"I'm not, woman," he countered smugly. "I already have you. You like me more than you think you like him. And besides, you don't need to be jealous of anyone. You're all that matters."

Anaabiya's heart did something weird, but she immediately shut that thought down. Nope. Not going there.

"You're wrong," she huffed, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in her chest. "Now, get off me and go to sleep." She tried pushing him away, but instead, he leaned in, pressing his weight down just enough to pin her in place.

"Alright, let's test this," he said mischievously. "I'll have you talk to—what's his name? Zubair?"

Anaabiya rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "It's Uzair."

"Yeah, yeah. Same thing," Humza dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Let's see who has your full attention—him or me. If I win, I get to ask for three things. And if you win, you get the same. Deal?"

She blinked at him. "Are you serious right now?"

Humza's wicked smirk told her he was very serious.

This was stupid. Childish. Completely ridiculous.

But she couldn't deny that she did want to check on Uzair, just once. Even though she wasn't to blame for Humza shooting him, the guilt still gnawed at her.

"Deal," she said firmly, meeting his gaze.

Humza sniggered like he had already won, like he was already planning his three wishes.

Confident much?

Humza reached for his brand-new phone from the nightstand, still keeping Anaabiya firmly pinned beneath him.

"I'm going to fall!" she protested, squirming against his grip. Her arms were beginning to ache.

"I won't let you fall," he murmured, his voice unusually soft. There was something in his tone—something steady, something sure—that made her pause. The sincerity in his words caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless.

Without another word, he dialed a number and placed the phone against her ear.

"You have his number?" she asked, her confusion evident.

He simply shrugged. "I have my sources."

"Let me hold it." She tried to take control, but Humza smirked.

"Not happening. I'll hold it so I can cut the call whenever I want."

Anaabiya groaned, but before she could protest further, the phone started ringing.

"You're not putting it on speaker?" she questioned suspiciously.

"No. I don't want to hear his voice, nor do I care what he says. I trust you."

The words made her pause again. But before she could dwell on them, a familiar husky voice filled her ears.

"Hello?" Uzair's voice rang through the speaker.

Anaabiya froze.

Humza, watching her intently, narrowed his eyes.

"Uzair," she whispered, hesitant.

There was silence on the other end before Uzair spoke again, his voice rushed and frantic.

"Anaabiya? Oh my Allah, is that really you? I can't believe it! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. How arree—" Her words faltered the moment she felt something warm against her neck.

Humza.

His lips.

Her eyes widened as she shot him a glare. "Whattt areee you doing?"

A sharp breath caught in her throat, her body going rigid. What was he up to now?

"Who? Me?" Uzair continued, oblivious. "Uh... I was just lying in bed."

Anaabiya struggled to gather her thoughts. "Okay! Umm.. H-How... is your leg?" she managed to ask, but her voice betrayed her.

Humza trailed slow, deliberate kisses along her neck, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just behind her ear.

"It's better now," Uzair responded, but she barely processed his words.

Her eyes shut tightly, her breath uneven. She bit her lip, desperate to suppress any sound, any sign of weakness.

"Anaabiya?" Uzair's voice broke through the haze. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. Even if it meant he killed me, I should've stayed."

His voice was laced with guilt. But right now, she couldn't focus.

Not when Humza's lips were moving lower, his tongue teasing the skin he had just bitten.

A soft gasp escaped her before she could stop it.

"Yes, you—I agree," she blurted out mindlessly, completely losing track of the conversation.

"You agree?" Uzair asked, confused.

Anaabiya nodded. Then she realized he couldn't see her.

She shook her head. That wasn't right either.

"Y-Yes. I mean—no! I think you did the... the right thing by... leaving. Yes. Leaving!" she stammered, her words fumbling.

Uzair paused. "Why are you panting? Anaabiya, are you okay?"

She wasn't. Not in the slightest.

Humza's lips traveled even lower, each movement slower, more torturous.

"Please stop," she whispered.

"Stop what? What are you doing, Anaabiya?" Uzair's voice was laced with concern.

A deep chuckle vibrated against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Say my name," Humza murmured against her ear, his voice thick with amusement, "and I'll stop."

A shudder ran through her.

She bit her lip harder, trying to stay in control, but it was impossible. Her body betrayed her, surrendering to the warmth pooling in her stomach.

Then, just when she thought she could resist, Humza bit down on the delicate skin below her collarbone.

A strangled moan escaped her lips before she could hold it back.

Uzair was still talking—saying something—but she barely registered his words.

The bet? To hell with the bet.

"Humza," she whimpered. "Please stop."

The moment his name left her lips, Humza immediately disconnected the call and finally pulled away, his warm breath still ghosting over her skin.

She lay there, chest rising and falling rapidly, her body flushed with heat and frustration.

When she finally dared to look up, he was smirking down at her, his eyes gleaming with victory.

"I won," he declared smugly.

"You cheated," she accused, glaring at him.

He simply shrugged. "You never said anything about cheating."

She huffed in frustration, but he wasn't finished yet.

"Besides, you could have stopped me, you know," he added, his smirk deepening. "A well-aimed kick, and I would've been off this couch in a second."

Anaabiya opened her mouth to argue—then shut it immediately.

why hadn't she stopped him?

Because he was injured, she reasoned.

Liar, her heart whispered back.

Humza says Hi!

We hope you are having fun reading his story 🤭😋

E D I T E D on 1.3.2025