Tum pehle bhi itni khoobsurat thi ya waqt ne kiya koi haseen sitam
تم پہلے بھی اتنی خھوبصورت تھی یا
وقت نے کیا کوئ حسین ستم

I knew I was dreaming.

But for the time I did not care. It was still very early in the morning and the sunlight had begun to blur the darkness away. The morning dew hung like silk in the air filling the horizon with a halo of sweet joy and serenity. The silent crackle of the morning sparrow awoke every soul in its surrounding. I stirred a little, stretching my tired limbs, and then trotted down bare feet on the wet grass of the garden.

The blades of the grass tickled the soles of my feet, but the curling fog around the floor made it difficult to see. It was cold and my cotton shirt did a poor job of fending off the biting chill of the winter morning. I looked down, taking in the appearance of the wrinkled white shirt that ended just above my knees, but my arms were completely swallowed by the length of the sleeves.

This wasn't my shirt.

I stood in the middle of the garden, my confusion eating upon me, when I felt the cloud of fog began to thicken around me, blurring my vision and drowning the beautiful garden I was in. I frantically looked around, when I saw a shadow appear from within the clouds.

Aliyaar.

He edged closer and I noticed the soft appreciative smile play upon the corner of his lips. Even his eyes smiled, impish and full of life. So imperfectly perfect.

"I never thought you'd look this in my shirt." His eyes warmed with approval, languidly trailing down the length of my body. His lips smirked with pride. He came closer and I could hear his lips mumbling sweet compliments in my ears. His hand reached out and twisted the tendril of hair lying on my face and then tucked it away behind my ear.

"So innocent." His fingers traced down the side of my face and then cupped my jaw. "So pure." he mumbled. His thumb caressed my cheek, stroking the soft flesh with a featherlike touch. His touch kissed me like dew speckled a petal in the breeze. But despite the softness, his touch felt warm, almost welcoming.

I smiled, drawing closer to his inviting warmth. It felt good. It felt nice. His fingers laced through the lissome strands of my hair, ruffling and then stroking them with his hand. I relaxed under his touch, relishing the soothing feeling. If only we could stay like this forever.

"Who would have thought I'd fall so hopefully in love with you." His voice fell upon my ears and I felt like he was studying me with an acute concentration, watching me with an awful placidity. His words kept echoing into the stillness of our surrounding. And my pulse ratcheted in my throat, pounding with wild pleasure.

I knew it was a dream, yet it felt so achingly alive. So real.

His thumb pressed against my lips, gently tugging upon their softness, tracing their plumpness. His eyes were heavy, intoxicated with a primal emotion, his voice raw in its banality. "I hope one day, you too will fall in love with me. Until then I'll wait for that day."

I wanted to say something. I wasn't sure what, but I wanted to say something. Yet it seemed my words were lost, my thoughts scampered and distort. And in that mindless confusion, I felt his lips press against my cheek. One and then another. His lips felt cold, yet I felt like the skin on my cheek would burn. A hot blazing fire raged thought my entire being filling me with a pleasurable warmth.

Was it the warmth from the fire burning within me or the feel of his body pressed up against mine, his face nuzzling in my hair, I was not sure. But I suddenly felt alive. Awake.

Awake?

I froze. Subtle awareness rose over the fog of my heavy slumber and I realised it was all a dream. A beautiful dream.

I tried to stir awake, but when I felt his fingers trail down the side of my forehead and I froze again, my eyes tightly close. His breath curled against my face. He was close. Very close. I stayed still, pretending to sleep, enjoying the feel of his fingers caressing my face. It was after a while, I felt him edge closer.

Was he about to kiss me?
No. No. No.
Please don't.
Not like this.
Not now.

I squeezed my eyes tightly, my body freezing again. "I know you're awake." He whispered in my ear and my eyes flew open in surprise. I looked at him in bewilderment and his chest shook with laughter.

"How did you know I was awake?" I asked in an accusing tone, pushing at his chest and scooting away from him.

He shrugged, rolling back on the bed. "You're not a very good actor." He said, folding his arms underneath his head and staring at the flower garlands hanging above our bed.

I huffed, rolling my eyes and then pushed myself on my elbows before turning around to check the time on my phone. "It's almost nine in the morning." I mumbled, but wasn't it early morning. I groaned, my mind was still groggy with sleep.

It was a dream. I was dreaming.

I lay back, my mind still cloudy with thoughts. Was all of it a dream or did he actually say those things? How long had he been watching me? The line between the dream and reality began to blur and I felt myself doused in my confusion. What if he actually said those things? But who talks to a sleeping person? But he thought I was awake. But I was asleep. Or was I awake?

Endless questions floated in my mind and I pursed my lips trying to unravel the mystery of my dream and reality.

"What's wrong?" His voice bought me back to my reality and turned around to see him eyeing me curiously.

"Were you talking to me?" His eyebrows arched up at the question and I sighed, "I mean when I was asleep. Did you say something to me?"

"Why would I talk to a sleeping person?" He gave me an incredulous look and I suddenly felt stupid for asking the question. "I was playing with your hair though." He grinned mischievously.

I shook my head, my fingers massaging my temples. Chai. I needed chai.

"You should change. We need to go down for breakfast." I heard him say. "Although you look so bloody tempting in that shirt." He mumbled under his breath.

My cheeks warmed at his words and I looked down to take in my appearance. I was wearing his shirt, that was a few sizes too big for me. The top buttons had fallen undone and I felt his shirt and smell envelop me, fully encompassing my being. I quickly pulled the duvet up to my neck and glared at him. "I heard you."

"Good."

A devilish smile graced his face and my eyes narrowed in response. A knock sounded on the door and we both turned to look at him. "Cover yourself up," he said passing me the duppatta from the edge of the bed and strolled over to check on the door.

The door opened with a slight creak, but he stood by the entrance making sure to keep me out of view. "Shehryar Bhai ne Shanzae Bhabhi kay liye Chai bhejwai hai. Ajj se roz subha le aonga." A male voice sounded from behind the door. Aliyaar nodded before taking the cup and locking the door behind him.

[Shehryar sir has sent this tea for Shanzae ma'am. I'll have it sent everyday to your room early morning.]

Of course he knew I needed tea first thing in the morning. Of course he knew I could not function without a hot cup. And of course he had to have it sent today.

The last thing I wanted was his help to settle in this house. I sighed rubbing my brows, the thought of sharing a house suddenly began to weigh me down and I felt irritation beginning to settle with me.

"I didn't know you were so addicted to tea." He said placing the cup on my side table.

"I don't like it. I don't know why he sent it." I lied and with one wrench I tore myself off the bed, wrapping the duppatta around my shoulders and ran to the bathroom.

Aliyaar was seated on the couch when I came out. The cup of tea lay untouched on the table in front of him. The characteristic smell seemed to linger in the room, so pleasant and inviting. The steam brewing from the cup danced in wafts over it. So tempting. I kept staring at the cup, the debate hot in my mind.

My heart wanted it, but my ego would not allow it.

I shook my head and walked over to my suitcase, looking for something to wear. "When will my closet be completed?" I asked pulling out a few dresses.

"Maybe a day or two more." He said. I nodded and then turned to him with two dresses I had picked.

"Which one should I—" my mouth opened in horror and I almost shrieked out in anger. "Why are you drinking my chai?"

He looked at me casually and then popped his brow up in question. "You said you didn't like it."

"But it's my chai." The need for caffeine began to kick in and irritation began to cloud my mind. "You don't even like chai." I exclaimed.

His face softened in playful mischievous, as he slowly relaxed back on the couch, the cup still in his hand. "I like everything that's yours." A rakish grin settled on his face, but a heated scowl appeared on mine.

A frustrated groan left my lips and I threw the clothes back on the bed. My fists clenched, trying to contain myself. "Just don't take my chai, or else I'll—" I scavenged through my mind, looking for a threat, " I'll— I'll divorce you."

A loud laugh rolled through the room, "We can share." He suggested.

"I don't like sharing." I replied in a bored tone, my eyes still pinned at the cup in his hand.

He threw his head back and laughed. "You didn't seem opposed to the idea last night when you asked for my shirt." The suggestive grin on his face widened and his eyes twinkled with amusement.

I groaned and then blindly pulled a piece of garment from my suitcase, "Then we can share clothes, here you can keep this," I said throwing the piece towards him. "Just don't take my—"

Oh my god.
OH MY GOD.
OH. MY. GOD.

Words died in my mouth, a budding blush flushed my face, my eyes widened and for a second I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. The skimpy white piece of lingerie landed straight on his face. He froze, before he realised what had happened. His lips curled into a wicked grin.

But to my further mortification he stayed still, making no effort to remove the piece from his face.

"Ya Allah!" The words escaped past my lips and I closed my eyes and heard the silent cry of my heart. This day couldn't have gotten any worse. How many times will I embarrass myself in front of him.

I slowly willed myself to open my eyes, peeking at him from underneath my lashes. I knew he knew I was watching him, because his hand agonisingly reached up to his face and with frustrating slowness he pulled the piece off it.

"Give it back." I whispered timidly. My eyes still unable to meet his.

His eyes shifted between me and the white piece of fabric dangling on his finger, his face lighting up with sheer entertainment. "I don't mind. I don't mind at all." His eyes darkened with humour and his tone leavened with amusement and appreciation.

A sting of expletives left my mouth, before I ran back in to the bathroom, leaving him to riot in his laughter.

Shanzae realising she can't undo her mistake.

@farixx sent a wedding gift. Isn't it lovely. 🤩

A short sweet update, which I hope you all enjoyed.

Was Shanzae dreaming or did Aliyaar actually say those things to her?

Also, does anyone want to do an Ask Aliyaar/ Shanzae on Instagram?

Until next time, keep me in your prayers.

Twitter & Instagram: @sssaltynothings