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*

Anabia

I opened the front door and was surprised to see my twin brother standing there with Mariyam, our father's daughter from his secret marriage. "Assalam Alaikum." 

"Walaikum Assalam." They both replied.

Mariyam was staring at the ground, her head and the lower half of her face covered by a dupatta.

I glanced at Saim, waiting for an explanation, but I stepped aside to let them in. "How are you, Mariyam?" Our mother hadn't raised us to forget blood ties. 

She nodded, but she didn't say anything. Again I glanced at Saim, who shrugged.

I led them into the formal living room, and gestured for them to sit down. Mariyam was glancing around, almost in wonder. She glanced at the Ayat-ul-Kursi hanging on the wall directly opposite the door, at the neat and immaculate room, the matching sofa sets and the glass coffee table. 

"You have a beautiful home, Appi. Ma Sha Allah." She whispered, her gaze returning to me.

Appi? "Thank you." I paused. "How's Fiza?"

Fiza was her younger sister. 

She sighed, shaking her head. "I haven't heard from her in a while."

"And how's your mother?" I asked, carefully.

"My mother was admitted, under court order, into a rehabilitation centre." She stated simply, without further elaborating.

"Basically, Mariyam is hesitating to say this, but she has no place to go." Saim explained. "She has become homeless since they were unable to pay the rent of their place..." He cleared his throat.

I hugged myself as I sat on an armchair. I had no idea what to say to that. I wanted to have a big heart and offer her a place to stay here, but how could I? I hardly knew Mariyam, or about her life. Blood or not, it wasn't a sensible idea to just invite her into my home! "I'm very sorry to hear that." I was not the emotional and naïve Anabia from decades ago. I had to think of my family, my home first. I didn't trust Mariyam. I couldn't just invite her to live here, amongst my loving family. 

"I am divorced because my husband found another woman." Her voice broke as she spoke. "I suppose it's true that the parents' deeds can come back to haunt the children. But unfortunately, both culprits are not around to witness the torture I am living. I have a baby boy, with no place to go." Tears filled her eyes.

I inhaled long and deep before standing up. "Excuse me. I'll go make some tea." 

"Appi, I don't want any tea. And I understand your hesitation is helping me." Mariyam stood up as well. She was in her late thirties, pushing forty, and there was no denying that she was pretty. 

But there was also no denying the history that we all shared. I still couldn't forget how the sisters barely acknowledged me and Saim, even though we shared a father. "Do you?" I asked. "If you did, you wouldn't be here right now." I looked at Saim, silently questioning him why he brought her here.

"I met her at Papa's grave. She was crying and asking me to help her." He explained. "I just brought her here so we can talk. You are under no obligation to help her, Anabia, and neither am I. I offered my help and support when Papa...passed away, but they basically rejected me. I don't think there's much else we can do now."

"I just need a few days, maybe a couple of weeks." Mariyam whispered. "As soon as I get a job..."

"We can help you with the rent, but that's the most I can offer." I had to keep my family safe. She was basically a stranger and I couldn't let a stranger in my home, no matter what. Saim and I were raised mainly by Mama, but she had been raised by Zohaib Waleed, the very man who had leaked his own daughter's pregnancy scans to the media! I couldn't trust his upbringing at all; and nor of the woman who had become part of the adultery that had destroyed Mama's marriage. If Papa was the main culprit, Sharmeen was no innocent either.

"Saim Bhai?" Mariyam looked at him helplessly.

My heart ached a little at the way she was staring at him pleadingly, but I had fallen for this 'innocent' act too many times. And if my own biological father could manipulate me, why wouldn't she? And I know that Saim was also hesitating for the same reason; he was concerned about Laila and Bunny.

"Anabia's right. We can't trust you, I'm sorry. We can help you with the rent, to ensure you have a place to stay, but that place can't be our homes."

Mariyam nodded. "I understand."

"If your mother is at a rehabilitation centre, where is your baby?" I asked.

"I have been staying in a women's shelter. A lady there is minding my baby." She admitted.

And that truly broke my heart. To be in such a situation where you had to leave your baby with a stranger? I couldn't even imagine it. As a mother, my eyes filled up at the thought, but I also had to remind myself that this was the right thing for me to do for my family. 

"Thank you for your time." Mariyam stood up. "My baby needs to be fed soon, so I should go."

"Have you tried to reach Fiza?" Saim asked.

She smiled sadly. "Fiza got away from this life. She was academically strong, so she won scholarship after scholarship. She went to university in the US and never came back. She got married there and as her own family." She played with the edge of her dupatta. 

"You didn't go to university?" 

Mariyam shook her head. "I dropped out during my first year because... I got pregnant." 

My eyes widened in horror.

"I'd married him!" She admitted quickly. "But the moment he found out I was pregnant, he left. And a year later, he sent me the divorce papers."

"What about that child?" I whispered out.

"He was...stillborn. I hadn't taken care of myself and my diet enough during pregnancy. The baby was premature...and..." She sobbed into her dupatta.

"Mariyam, I'm so sorry to hear everything you've been through." Something occurred to me. "Listen, I know a woman who has opened a shelter especially for women suffering from hardship. She's a lovely woman, a friend of my mother-in-law. I can speak to her and you can go there with your baby?" 

Mariyam looked up at me hopefully. "You'd do that for me?" 

I nodded. "Of course."

"I have to go, but can I please use the bathroom before I go?" She asked.

"Sure." I led her out and pointed down the hall. "It's right there."

She headed there and we heard the sound of the door close.

"I feel bad." I whispered to Saim.

"Me too. Especially since I'm her brother and I feel responsible." He sighed. "But I have no idea where she's been all this time, and whether anything that she said is legit."

"Exactly. After how Zohaib Waleed betrayed me, how can I allow myself to trust her? Especially since it could risk the safety of my whole family!"

He nodded. "And I don't want to drag Bunny into this. We suffered enough because of Zohaib Waleed. I don't want even a threat of his shadow on him."

"I get it. I acted as a wife and a mother too. I can't allow history to repeat." I tried to reassure myself, while simultaneously attempting to supress the guilt that I felt.

But my silliness in the past had resulted in my own kidnapping, which had ultimately resulted in my newborn twins being hospitalised. From that young, new mother Anabia, I had come a long way. I'd learn to think logically, rather than emotionally.

A few minutes later, Saim turned to me. "Where is she?" 

Realising she had been gone too long, I got up and headed out of the room again. I saw her standing in the hallway that led to the family living room, and she was staring up at the wall of family photos. Walking slowly over to her, I followed her gaze. She was looking at the family portrait taken on Yasin's wedding. I sat on the sofa, in a shimmering pink sari, with my hair in a bun, while Rehan wore a black sherwani. Between us, sat Haya in her pink shalwar kameez with the silver embroidery- the dress she had constantly complained about. On Rehan's other side was Hoor, in a matching outfit as Haya's. But unlike Haya, Hoor was grinning widely. In front of us on the floor sat Rohaan and Arsalan, in sherwanis that matched their father's.

"You've lived a beautiful married life, it seems." Mariyam whispered. "And why not? Our father caused you all so much suffering- more than what Mum, me and Fiza had suffered."

"Ma Sha Allah." I said. "I'm grateful to Allah. Indeed, after every hardship comes ease." I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Rebecca is a wonderful woman. She'll ensure that you're looked after well." 

"Thanks, Anabia Appi."

After she and Saim had left, I sat in my reading corner for a long time, thinking things through. Was I selfish? Should I have helped her, by simply trusting her?

A tear escaped my eye as I thought about the almost fatal consequences of my 'simply trusting' someone due to their blood relationship to me. Forget my own life, my beautiful little newborn twins had been put to risk because of that stupidity! Never again! I will never let history repeat itself! 

*

"Mum?! Mama!" 

"What is it, Rohaan?" I called out from the bottom of the stairs. "Why don't you come downstairs and talk to me rather than shouting my name from upstairs like I'm your younger sibling, rather than your mother?!"

Allah! I sound like my own mother now. 

He came rushing downstairs, almost stumbling over in the process.

"Careful!" I snapped at him for his negligence.

"Have you seen my white socks?" 

"You mean all the ones currently lying in your laundry basket, ready to be washed?" I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "Didn't I tell you to wash your laundry?" 

For a brief second, he looked confused, but then he slapped his forehead. "S**t. I forgot."

"Mind your language! And wear a different pair for now."

"I need those socks for practice, Mama!"

"Should have thought of that when 'forgetting' the laundry." I shrugged and walked towards the kitchen.

Yep, definitely Khadija Jr with all her sarcasm.

"What do I do now?" He looked so lost that I melted.

"Rohaan, your socks don't determine how well you play! Wear another pair, and I'll do your laundry this time." I placed my hands on his upper arms, tilting my head back to stare up at him. My mother-in-law and mother both often joked that my men might be significantly taller than me, but I was still in charge. None of them could manage without me. Boss woman, as Rohaan often lovingly called me. I placed a hand on his cheek, tracing the marks still left there from when he was beaten up. "My baby..."

"Oh, Mum, don't get all emotional now. I can manage with different socks, and I will do my laundry when I'm back." 

"That's all a mother wants to hear." I smiled at him. "Go. Allah Hafiz. And call me if you make plans to go somewhere after practice. I don't want to be calling you repeatedly all panicked."

"Your wish is my command." He bowed.

"I wish my wish was a command for the four of you." 

"At least it is for Dad." He joked.

I lightly slapped his arm. "Behave."

He kissed my cheek. "I'm going to get another pair of socks and then I'm heading out. Allah Hafiz." 

"Allah Hafiz, Ro." 

After he left, I was home all alone. Arsu wasn't back from his internship, Rehan was at work and Haya and Ifra had gone to see a film.

I sat on the isle of my kitchen, with my laptop on as I replied to various emails regarding airport issues, while sipping on a delicious cup of coffee.

Rehan and I had built a beautiful life, a home together. Our kids were my whole world. I adored my life. Alhumdulillah.

And selfish or not, I wasn't going to ever allow anyone or anything to threaten this life that my husband and I had created together.

*

Hooriya

On the way back down the stairs on the island, my foot slipped and I fell. Fortunately, it was right near the bottom, and I fell face first into soft muddy ground, wet from the random light shower that we'd just been blessed with. 

"Hoor!" 

I'd barely hit the ground before I felt Farhaan's strong arms encircle me. "Hooriya, are you okay?"

"My clothes are all muddy." I groaned.

"Are you okay, though? Are you hurt?" His concerned voice made me turn to sit up and looked up at him. His hair was damp from the rain, and his eyes were focused on me. 

"I'll survive." I smiled weakly at him.

"I told you to be careful! It's so slippery, but you wanted to dramatically run down the steps!" 

"Gir gayi hoon, dantain to na." I pouted.

*"I fell down, at least don't tell me off."

"Kyun na dantoon jab khayal nahin rakti apna?" 

*"Why shouldn't I tell you off when you can't take care of yourself?" 

"Aap kehte hain ke main aapki zimaydari hoon, to is hisaab se yeh aapka kasoor hua." I grinned cheekily at him.

*"You say that I'm your responsibility, so by that logic, this is your fault."

The others, who had gathered to ask if I was okay, moved away now knowing that I was being taken care by the best person to take care of me.

"Mera paaon dukh raha hai. Mujhe uthake le jaayain ferry tak." 

*"My foot hurts. Carry me and take me to the ferry."

"Bohat shararti ho tum, Hooriya. Laikin, sochlo. Waqai mai uthake lay jaaonga tumhe."

*"You're very mischievous, Hooriya. But, think about it; I will actually carry you."

I blushed at the intensity of his gaze on me. "Now that I think about it, my foot feels fine." 

He helped me stand up, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. I tilted my head back and smiled up at him. He smiled back, before leaning down for a quick peck on my lips.

"You sure you're okay?" 

"Farhaan, you've known me forever. If I was in pain, I'd make it known loud and clear."

"True." He nodded in agreement.

I still remembered when I was twelve or something and a sharp rock had pierced me on the sole of my foot after I'd stepped outside without my shoes (*insert Mama glare here*). I'd screamed bloody murder, and cried my eyes out, while Farhaan and Aizah Appi had a look at my foot before reassuring me that I, in fact, didn't need surgery, so I had to stop being that dramatic. Aizah Appi had put a bandage on my foot, and I had later hidden behind Hareem Khalla while Mama told me off. And, of course, when Papa came, I told him everything with lots of pouts and a few shed tears. Naturally, he had more sympathy.

I am a drama queen, but yeah, I do not remain quiet when I am in physical pain.

*

Marriage isn't just about love and romance. It's also about being best friends, in my opinion. Like, lying side by side on the bed, eating halal strawberry sour laces that a certain impulsive girl had brought along from the UK as a part of her emergency snack supply. Well, I was eating those. He had just finished a cup of coffee.

Our heads were towards the foot of the bed, and the sliding doors that led out to the pool were open. He lay on his back while I was lying on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I ate the strawberry laces.

"How long did you have feelings for me?" He asked, quietly.

"I don't even remember anymore." I admitted. "It feels like all my life."

"And you never said a word? Not even during the entire Sophie Saga?" 

"What could I have said? You love Sophie, but I love you, so 'pick me, choose me, love me'? I loved you, I thought you loved her, and I wanted what made you happy."

"Your love has always been selfless, Hoor. Your love is true love." 

"I don't know about that. Maybe subconsciously, I made a dua that I could be your wife..." 

He sat up. "I'm sorry that without realising it, I caused you so much pain, Hoor."

"You didn't know." I reassured him. "I know that you'll never intentionally hurt me, love or not." I then decided to ask him a question that was borderline dangerous territory for spouses. But, as I said, marriage is also about being best friends. I wanted a complete comfort zone with him. "What made you think that you loved her?" 

He leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. "On the face of it, what's there not to love? She's beautiful, externally and internally; she's kind, compassionate, intelligent, independent... and maybe, Hoor, she would have been the one for me, had you not been in my life."

"So, what made you realise that I am the one, and not her?" 

He smiled weakly. "Honestly? What triggered it was a conversation I'd heard between Mama and Hareem Phupho. They were discussing what a lovely young girl you were, and how they had amazing rishtay in mind for you, with the consent of you and your parents, of course. For some odd reason, it made me feel bad, but I guess I ignored it. And then the nagging feeling started where I felt that something about my relationship with Sophie wasn't right."

"I love you and only you, Hoor, and I wish that I had realised it without dragging Sophie through the engagement." He sighed. "I was unable to understand my own feelings, and I feel like a complete a*****e." 

"Well, at least you realised before marriage to her. Saved you both the heartache. I'd already accepted the reality, but had you realised after marriage, three lives would have been messed up." I decided to change the topic. "Lie down. I want to try something."

He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. "Hoor, what is that mind of yours brewing up?" 

I placed my hands on his chest and made him lie down. Straddling him, I took a strawberry lace in my hand. "I'm going to take one end in my mouth, and you took the other. You know, like Lady and the Tramp style."

"Are you calling me a tramp?" He grinned.

"Listen, mister. You better grab a Disney encyclopaedia and learn all the references, okay? Marrying me includes having a full knowledge of all things Disney." I grinned back at him. "And besides, the thoughts in my head are certainly not lady-like either." 

He chuckled before taking the other end of the strawberry lace in his mouth. We kept chewing on it until our lips met. And then I lay over him as we kissed, the platonic relationship suddenly shifting back to a romantic one.

*

MATURE CONTENT

I'd known him my whole life. That's why trusting him was so easy. That's why my anger had been short-lived. I just knew, without any doubt, that Farhaan Faiz did not have any bad intentions.

Bad? No. Mischievous...clearly.

I grinned at him from inside the room, keeping the sliding door locked. It was just approaching midnight, and he had gone for a late night swim. Now, he stood in his boxers, water dripping from his body, with his hands pressed against the glass of the door. Wearing just shorts and a bra myself, I was in the mood to tease. I placed my hands on the glass, right against his. The truth was that he looked so attractive that I just wanted to pull the door open and launch myself at him. 

He raised both eyebrows before suddenly running towards the door that slid open into the living room.

I gasped. "No!" I ran towards the living area from the inside as well. "That's cheating! Farhaan!"

But it was too late. He was already inside. Shrieking, I spun around and ran back towards the room, giggling hard. At the door of our room, I felt him grab my waist, his hand pressing over my bare stomach, pulling me back against himself. I struggled to free myself, but not too long, because what I felt for him then was stronger than this playfulness. I turned around in his arms, and before I even knew it, his mouth was on mine. I didn't care if he was wet from the pool water. Sliding my arms up his back, I held on tighter to him, deepening the kiss between us.

Still locked in a kiss, we stumbled to the bed. I sat on my knees, my arms now wrapping themselves around his neck, as we continued our passionate lip lock. His hands exploring my body set my skin on fire. 

The strength of his shoulders as I placed my hands over them.

His hands on my bare waist.

Our lips locked in a furious battle that was both exciting and passionate.

The light tug at my shorts, before gradually they were pulled off, before I lay bare before him, just in my bra.

The tugging of his boxers by my own fingers.

I felt flashes and glimpses of the sensations I felt. Otherwise I was too overwhelmed by my desire- it was like an intoxication without any haram involved.

We made love.

The slight pain, before the unlimited pleasure.

We paused and lay in each other's arms briefly. We exchanged a long, deep kiss with sweat now drenching our bodies. 

It was love.

It was lust.

It was pleasure.

It was desire.

It was him.

It was me.

And it was the same process, all over again.

As our bodies pressed together again, and desire took me once again on an all-time high, I cried out his name.

It was us.

It was a beautiful night on our dreamy honeymoon.

*

The night of lovemaking had left behind the desire of constant physical contact. We held hands as we headed down for breakfast the restaurant, with the occasional kiss exchanged.

"S**t, I forgot my phone." He checked his pockets. "I saw an important email on my lock screen earlier that I wanted to have a look at."

"Can it not wait until breakfast?" I asked.

"Give me a few minutes. I'll be right back." He leaned down to press his mouth against mine.

I clutched onto his lapels and kissed him back softly.

"Few minutes, okay?" He leaned down as if to whisper in my ear, but planting a soft kiss underneath my ear instead.

"Hurry!"

I continued towards the restaurant and and as I entered, a waiter immediately appeared by my side. "Good morning, madam." He spoke politely.

"Good morning." I smiled at him. "A table for two, please."

If I was thinking as a red-blooded female, the waiter was handsome in a breath-taking way. His name-tag read 'Leo', and he had bronze skin with almond eyes that had specks of gold in them that became blatantly obvious due to the sunshine pouring in through the window right beside where he stood. "Sure. Indoors or outdoors?"

"Outdoors, please." 

He led the way, and turned to look at me. "How's your trip going so far at this resort?"

"It's amazing." I admitted genuinely.

He pulled out a chair for me, and the way he smiled at me flustered me a little. I was a blushing mess as I sat down. My loyalty to Farhaan was only going to end with my life itself, but the waiter's natural charm was turning me into a nervous teenager on the verge of giggling.

"Let me know whenever you're ready miss." Again giving me a smile, he set a menu down in front of me and headed away.

Fortunately, Farhaan returned quite quickly and took a seat opposite me, his gaze remaining on the phone.

"Well, hello to you too." I said, sarcastically.

"We literally just came here together." He looked up with a smile.

"But, still. A casual 'hey' or 'hello' is mandatory." 

He set his phone aside and focused on me. "Hey, Hooriya. How are you this fine morning?" He smirked. "Tired? Sore?" 

"Farhaan!" I glared at him, now blushing for a completely different reason.

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. A notification sound from his phone made him pick up the phone again. "I'm so sorry, Hoor. I'll tell you exactly why I'm being incredibly rude. Just give me a few minutes, okay?" He began to type away on his phone.

The waiter returned. "May I take your orders?" He briefly glanced at Farhaan as well, before turning to me. "Madam?" 

"What would you recommend?" I asked him. "I have the same thing every day. What can I try that would come under a 'halal' diet?"

The waiter leaned down to point out a few things. He was close enough for me to smell his cologne, and I moved my chair back, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Hey, listen, mate." Farhaan was finally fully focused on his surrounding and was now frowning at the waiter. "Bring something incredibly delicious for my wife. After all, she should have wonderful honeymoon memories that include good food, right?" 

The waiter clearly got the message because he straightened up, nodding and clasping his hands behind his back. "Yes, Sir." He scurried away quickly, looking flushed himself.

I got up and moved my chair to be right beside Farhaan. "Okay, now tell me why you are focused more on your phone than on me." I took his hand between both of mine.

"Are we really going to ignore that?" He asked me, nodding in the direction of where the waiter had gone.

"Yes, we are. Because if we don't ignore that, I'd be forced to focus on how incredibly s*xy you are when displaying protective jealousy. We are in a public place, Farhaan, and I really don't need to focus on that after the night we had." I whispered.

I sometimes might come across as bolder than I actually was. It was only because he made me feel more confident, more expressive. I was so comfortable around him and I was so much in love, that I did not feel shy or embarrassed about telling him how I felt- or even being a little cheeky in the process. 

"There are talks about reviving the Rose Luxe, Hoor. The actual five star hotel that once dominated the industry." 

"But that's not something that you wanted, is it?" 

"I didn't, but Papa seems interested. And he wants to know if I'd like to help."

"But, you wanted to avoid the hassle of running a chain of major hotels. That's why you chose the B&B."

"Yeah, that's why I don't know what to say to him. I'd rather not do it, but I feel guilty if Papa ends up doing that on his own. Faizan has refused, and I can't blame him. He never wanted to get into business."

"Just be honest to Uncle. He'll understand." I squeezed his hand.

"Bada hoon main, Hoor. Kahin na kahin mujhe lagta hai ke unka saath dena meri zimedari hai, bade honay ki haisiyat se." He ran his free hand through his hair.

*"I'm the eldest, Hoor. To stop extent I feel that, as the eldest, it is my duty to support him [Papa]."

To stop extent, I understood how he felt. There were many times, I had felt that I had certain responsibilities and duties as the eldest. Even though I was only older than Haya by five minutes, I still felt that I had to be the most responsible. "I get it. Well... in a different way, but I still get it." I moved my chair even closer. "Look, you don't have to give up the B&B, right? You just need to give a chunk of your time to helping Uncle out. You can still run the B&B simultaneously, right?"

"It's not as easy as you make it sound, meri Hoor." He spoke almost absent-mindedly. "Reviving a former five-star hotel is going to take up more than just a chunk of my time, sweetheart."

"But the B&B is your baby!" I insisted, feeling my heart ache for him. I knew how much he loved that place. And then an idea occurred to him. "I can help! Teach me the ropes when we get back! I'll help you manage the B&B, so you can get some burden off you!"

He smiled fondly at me. "You're free for the summer right now, so it's easier. What about when your work starts in September?"

"I can work evenings at the B&B? Or weekends?" 

"I don't have set timings, Hoor. I have to be there all day, or I can be needed any time." 

"Look, just show me the ropes, okay? And then we'll work something out, In Sha Allah!"

"Why do you always think of me before your own happiness and convenience, Hooriya?" 

"It's called being in love. But you wouldn't know the feeling." I teased him.

"Alright, you're asking for it." He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Asking for what?" I asked, feigning innocence.

As the waiter returned with crepes and a few other breakfast dishes, our conversation paused. I bit back a smile as I saw Farhaan glaring at the bechara constantly.

If only you could read what's in my heart, Farhaan. You'll know that you'll never have a competition when it comes to me and my feelings.

*

We had a bit of a lazy morning/afternoon at the villa. After breakfast we watched a film that neither of us enjoyed very much. Then, we went swimming in the pool for a bit. Lastly, we lay down on the floor by the sliding door, using the various throws and cushions around the room. With the door open, and the gentle breeze flowing in, it was a nice and relaxing time. My head was resting on his chest, and his arm was around me, his fingers playing with locks of my hair.

"Do you think I should agree then?" 

"I gave you my opinion as your wife, but ultimately the decision is yours." I said. "All I can say is that don't think about giving up the B&B. We can work on it together."

Our hands were clasped together, and our gazes locked.

"Only if you promise to never let your own career take a backseat because of this." He spoke softly.

I didn't reply. 

"Hoor, promise me."

"I promise." The quiet promise slipped out of my mouth as I stared up into his eyes.

The promise was sealed with a kiss, which seemed to hold more power than any legal contract.

But love is selfless...and selflessness often requires sacrifice.

How much our selfless and pure love would have to sacrifice for each other's sake, only time would tell.

Unbeknownst to both of us, in the days of our honeymoon, amidst the kisses and the lovemaking; between moments of companionship and love, we had silently made promises to ourselves that we would sacrifice anything and everything for each other.

Our love was on such an irrevocable level, that the pain of sacrifice would be lessened by the fact that it was done for the person we loved the most in the world.

*

Foreshadowing or just a general description of how much they have developed their relationship in the last few days?

This is the second chapter in twelve hours, only because of how amazing you guys are!

The bonus scenes at the beginning were for the Unconditionally and Anabia fans!

Thoughts on the relationship between Hooran?

Should Farhaan help his father in reviving the hotel? 

Would the B&B suffer in the process?

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!