"sab chahta hoon main sang tere dohrana."

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DEEPENING darkness made the pinpricks of light strewn across the sky sparkle like diamonds and the moon dwelling among them shone in all her glory. Under the canopy of the celestial night, the wooden gate of the Awan residence unwound and the twin black vehicles whizzed inside―halting in front of the porch.

Zain climbed out of the car and raved to the other side to open the door for his bride and as she stepped out, a cold gust of wind collided with her frame and made her quiver.

Iman's eyes examined the vast open area surrounding her―covered with lush greenery but scarce of flowers and her mind momentarily drifted to the chromatic garden of her house.

It wasn't hers anymore, she realised with a pang of sorrow shooting through her body.

She couldn't wallow in her despair for long as the members of the Awan family got out of the vehicles and joined the couple. They quickly made their way inside to escape the January chill―barring the inspector general who stayed outside and conversed with the cops stationed at the gates.

A course of warmth engulfed Iman's cold body as she entered inside and stood in the large living room painted in lighter tones and accentuated with dynamic decor. The wooden flooring harmonized with the sturdy teak panels covering the ceiling and added a quaint and cosy charm to the atmosphere. Asymmetrical seating arrangement consisting of fluffy sectional sofas and couches took the space in the centre and the exquisite artwork on the walls instantly captured Iman's attention.

Before she could stop and admire the paintings surrounding her, Zain excused himself for a moment and dashed out of the house to meet Saif, leaving Iman in the presence of his mother and siblings. His absence caused tendrils of anxiety to spread throughout her body and she shifted on her toes until she felt a warm, feminine hand on her shoulder.

"Welcome home, Iman," Fatma Awan said with a lovely smile and it reminded Iman of the tenderness and warmth her son always regarded her with.

A tiny smile appeared on her face and she felt her unease dissipating slowly as his mother led her toward the couch and they both plopped down on it.

Iman noticed the hazel-eyed boy dropping down on the settee adjacent to them but the girl clad in the ivory dress huffed and stormed toward the staircase.

The clanking sound of heels made Fatma veer in the direction. "Zuny, where are you going?" she called out, halting her daughter's steps on the second stair. "Come sit with us for a while. Talk to Iman."

Zunyra squeezed her eyes shut and puffed out an agitated breath. What a pain in the neck!

She whirled around with her traits scrunched into vexation. "Sorry Mama, I'm too tired for that," she bit out and then her lips pulled into an acidic smile as she jeered, "Aur ye konsa kahin ja rahin hain? She's gonna stay with us so, baten toh hoti rahengi."

Fatma hurled a glare her way but the brunette rolled her eyes and yelling a good night, she twirled around and climbed up the stairs, making her mother release a frustrated breath.

"Don't mind her bhabhi," Arsal spoke―seizing Iman's attention. "She's the spoiled brat of our family."

"Yeah, please don't mind Zunyra," Fatma also gave her an apologetic look.

"N-No, I don't mind at all," Iman mumbled hurriedly, gaze swinging to Arsal and returning to the woman sitting next to her.

"Since we are done with Zuny's introduction, I think I should introduce myself now," Arsal chirped in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Hi bhabhi, I'm Arsal, your one and only dewar!"

Iman let out a meek hi but couldn't return his enthusiasm as she sat there with her knees joined together and a stiffness building in her muscles.

Fatma veered to her daughter-in-law and gently placed her hand on her slightly tensed one. "Iman beta, I know how it feels to leave your old life behind and walk into a new house with new people but I want you to feel comfortable here because it's your home now and all of us your family."

The rigidness encompassing Iman's countenance slowly loosened and her heart warmed at the sweetness of her tone and the sincerity shining in her dark eyes. She had been deprived of this kindness―no woman had offered it to her after her mother's passing.

"Thank you..." Iman trailed, contemplating on what to call her.

"You can call her Mama."

Zain's smooth voice resonated around as he walked back inside, his eyes raking over her features as he sat down on the sofa next to the couch his mother and his wife sat on.

Iman felt like the room became more brighter and warmer with his presence.

Her eyes locked with his for a blissful moment and then she veered to his mother with a hearty smile as she intoned, "Thank you, Mama. You are so kind."

Fatma patted her cheek lovingly, making a tide of comfort wash over her as her shoulders relaxed and she settled in more comfortably.

"Zain, where is your father?" his mother queried.

"He's lecturing Saif outside," Zain hissed. "I am sure he will never attend a wedding in our family again."

"And you left him there alone to face chachu?" Arsal tsked with a playful shine in his eyes. "You're such a bad friend, bhaiyya."

"I know. I am," Zain accepted coolly, leaning into the sofa and crossing his leg over his knee. "Ali said the same thing this morning when I called him and told him about the nikkah."

"Damn," Arsal drawled, hoisting his brows. "He must've been shocked and... angry."

"Yeah, for like two minutes," Zain cackled, reminiscing the conversation he had today with his best buddy who was currently in Lahore. "You know how much of a saint he is. Can't stay mad at anyone."

"He's such a nice boy," Fatma expressed in an affectionate voice.

Zain grinned, "He is."

"Tum bhi kuch seekh lo us sey."

Shahnawaz's robust voice boomed across the space as he returned and stood in the centre with his eyes locked on his son.

Zain feigned a cough―running a hand through his dark locks and then placing that hand on the side of his cheek as he tried to escape his father's piercing stare.

"Iman, aap yahan ayien, I want to talk to you," Shahnawaz suddenly said in a solemn voice.

And Iman flinched―heartbeat rising as her head instantly turned to Zain and she looked at him with perturbed eyes. 

With a small nod of his head, Zain sent a reassuring look her way―prompting her to rise on her feet and drag herself toward his father.

As she stopped before his intimidating form, she felt small and feeble, just like she always did when she faced her father. She didn't have the strength to look him directly in the eye so she bowed her head and waited for him to speak.

"I'll get straight to the point; what you and my son did that night was extremely impetuous. Running away was not, absolutely not the right thing to do," Shahnawaz said in a curt and condemning voice. 

Iman swallowed―knots of dread forming in her stomach as she kept her eyes pinned to the floor and fingers tightly weaved.

"I know you were being forced to marry," Shahnawaz mentioned, sparing a glance at his son who he knew was about to open his mouth to say the same thing. 

Zain leaned back, clamping his mouth shut and turning his head to his mother who shook her head and conveyed a message to remain silent with her eyes.

Shahnawaz continued, "That imprudent act just created more problems for you and your family..." he trailed, his voice softening as he added, "but I am sure you're the one who suffered the most in this whole ordeal."

Iman mustered the courage to look up and as her grey gaze slowly fell on the man she stood in front of, the tension oppressing her slowly subsided. Akin to his tone, there was a trace of gentleness on his face. 

"Iman, I don't want you to regret and live in the past but I do want you to learn from it and then move on." Shahnawaz intoned calmly and then he moved forward and gently patted her head. "Ab aap is ghar ki bahu hain, balkay beti hain so I want you to be happy and start a new life here."

Iman blinked in surprise―taken aback by his benevolence but in her heart, a feeling of assuagement swelled and made her feel a little less torn, a little less of a burden. With her muscles now relaxed and her heart beating at a normal pace, she held his stare and softly murmured, "Ji." 

Shahnawaz gave her a wide smile. "And if my son gives you any trouble, let me know. I'll fix him up."

Iman bit her lip to curb the smile that threatened to stretch onto her lips.

"Trouble and me?" Zain finally got a chance to speak. "Please, Baba. I am a gentleman," he stated, making his father veer to him with a sharply quirked brow and Zain quickly pointed his hand toward him, "Like you."

"You also have a way with words, Zain," Shahnawaz stated, a hint of amusement casting over his face. "Like your mother."
 
A loud cackle escaped Zain's lips as he turned to his mother whose features were brightened with a wide grin. 

Shahnawaz then, told Iman to go back to where she was seated earlier as he also plopped down on the sofa and joined the family.

The space buzzed with the chattering of the Awans as they casually talked about random things and although Iman didn't speak much, she felt a wave of comfort and contentment wash over her as she watched them conversing and laughing together.  

After a while, they decided to call it a night and retire to their rooms. 

Zain was about to lead his bride to his room when Arsal stopped him. "Bhaiyya, I've got a surprise for you in your room," he said in a hushed tone so that only his brother could hear him.

"A surprise?" Zain's eyes widened―narrowing the next second as he warned sharply, "It better be a pleasant one."

"Very very pleasant, don't worry," Arsal assured with a twinkle in his eyes that only heightened Zain's scepticism.

Nodding his head, he bid him and his parents good night and led Iman upstairs where the said surprise awaited.

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A dense layer of fog covered the lone street where a grey vehicle was slackly parked and a flurry of wind darted through the tract―circling around a tall figure meandering a few kilometres away.

Haider walked down the cold barren road dimly illuminated with a tangerine glow emitting from street lamps on the side. His demeanour didn't have the usual overweening aura he always exuded; his eyes didn't carry the lordly shine that made people feel unnerved in his presence.

His shoulders were loosened, eyes bleak and face clouded with monotony. 

He felt empty. As empty as the street he aimlessly wandered on. 

The past few days, he had invested all his time and effort into his work. Hours of long meetings, discussions and preparations had gone into the successful agreement he had signed today with an eminent global firm. But as soon as he was done with the event, he had rushed to the Bakhtiyar residence because he wanted to see her.

Iman.

His steps halted as he sucked in a pained breath.

Tomorrow, his name was going to grace the pages of top newspapers in his country, his successful tech venture was going to be the centre of attention and he was going to receive numerous praises for the landmark achievement for his business.

But tonight, he felt like he had fallen.

He felt like someone had pushed him from the top and he had hit the ground. 

How could Iman do this to him!?

He should've felt angry after receiving that news; should've barged inside the Bakhtiyar mansion and confronted her father. He should've been filled with unbridled rage and he should have unleashed it on her―on that deceitful woman who had broken his dreams.

But all he felt was... broken.

His fingers slowly curled into fists as he felt a thousand threads of sorrow bind around his heart.

His head tilted upwards, bloodshot eyes meeting the starry canvas above him as the moonlight poured on his face.

It burned him.

The silvery light emitting from the glowing orb in the sky burned him just like that woman with silvery eyes had.

And then he felt it―a warm liquid squeezing out from the corner of his eye and trickling down his cheek. His hand flew up as his fingers grazed the left side of his face.

Haider stilled in shock.

Did he just... shed a tear for her?

For the woman who had run away with someone else? For the woman who had betrayed and humiliated him? For the woman who had a tainted character?

Pathetic. He felt utterly pathetic.

He almost scratched his skin in the process of wiping off what he considered was a sign of weakness and only liked seeing in the eyes of his foes―not his own.

That single drop of tear was all it took for flames of fury to spark in his chest and pulsate through his veins, turning into a firestorm as he reminisced how she had tricked him with that innocent face, how she had hurt him and his pride and how easily she had become someone else's.

And he told himself that she only deserved his hatred.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and his hand swiped across the screen until his ire-laden, unforgiving eyes narrowed at a certain name. He tapped on the caller ID and attached the phone to his ear.

The call was answered instantly.

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Dazed.

Zain was dazed beyond words.

Rooted by the entrance, his lips slowly parted and his jaw swept over the floor of his room sprinkled with thousands of rose petals.

The flickering light of candles on both sides of the pathway created with petals reflected in his dark irises as his wide-eyed gaze travelled up to his bed and raked over an array of fragrant flowers―red and white and yellow―arranged all around it.

And when it landed on his bride standing right next to him with her brows winged and a shade of surprise clouding her features; his own face heated up in embarrassment.

Zain spun around, sweeping a hand over his flustered face and inwardly chastising Arsal for putting him in this predicament.

He obviously knew the good intention behind his cousin's gesture but dammit, he could've told him before riddling his room with flowers and creating such an overwhelming and...

and romantic ambience.

Gulping down his uneasiness, he turned around and saw that Iman was still as a statue beside him and her eyes were attached to the flooring.

"I didn't do all this," blurted out Zain in an abrupt manner―hauling Iman's attention and her gaze toward him.

She peered at him with a straight face―while Zain really struggled to keep his expression and mind straight.

"It was Arsal." Zain motioned with his hand―biting the side of his lower lip and then continuing his explanation, "He told me that he had a surprise for me in my room and now I am actually... very surprised and I don-"

"It's alright." Iman's soft murmur broke off his spiel and an ephemeral silence ensued before her demure voice infused the air again, "I love flowers."

Her statement made Zain stare at her in dumbfounded silence.

He kinda wanted to take back his words now and tell her that he had decorated the room but since he couldn't, he cleared his throat and rubbed his neck. "Oh, you do? I... am glad to hear that."

Zain couldn't bear the tantalising silence that pervaded the room again so he banished it with a, "Why don't you... uh sit?" he suggested, beckoning with his hand.

Iman slowly nodded her head and dragged herself to the bed. Her diffident frame sunk into the mattress as her eyes took a quick tour of the dark-earthy-themed room. It seemed like Zain was a strong believer in less is more because the room had minimalist―but elegant―furnishing. 

Apart from the king-sized bed in the centre with matching nightstands, there was a floor-length mirror on the right side. On the wall in front; a large television was mounted onto the wooden panel spliced into a tile-like design and there was a sleek shelf attached to it that hosted a few decorative items and a collection of books. A leather couch and a recliner were placed in the far corner of the room.

The walls and ceiling were painted with a neutral matte shade that made the space look airier―barring the black accented wall the bed was placed against that added a masculine vibe to it. Left side of the room had floor-to-length glass sliding doors that separated the balcony attached to it and provided a glimpse of the outside view.

Her small exploration ended and her gaze returned to the bed she was perched on. Her eyes then slowly skied across the cream satin bedding and a line of plump pillows scattered against the button-tufted headboard, the top of which was garlanded with roses. 

The sound of footsteps suddenly reached her ears and she felt the bed dip as Zain sat next to her; not too close, not too far, leaving the right amount of space for his fervour and her frigidness to dwell in.

The stiffness in her demeanour slowly fluxed by his presence and she felt the need to talk to him bubbling up within her.

"I missed you."

"I am sorry."

The couple looked at each other and their words collided.

"What?" They said in unison. 

"Wait, why did you apologize?" the lawman enquired.

"Why did you miss me?" his bride murmured.

"I asked the question first." Zain arched a brow.

At that, his beauty-ful wife rolled her silver orbs. "You love asking questions anyway."

His chest rumbled with a dark chuckle.

"Well, investigation is a part of my job after all," he replied with a mirthful ascend of his scythe-shaped brows.

The mention of his profession struck her and her traits morphed into a complaining frown. 

"Zain... why did you never tell me that? Why didn't you say anything even when I kept calling you a criminal?" Her voice ceased to a whisper at the last syllable.

"Because it made me feel better to know my gangster pretence was convincing enough," Zain quipped, reaping a look of disapproval from her.

"I'm serious! You should've told me you're a police officer," Iman whined. "I was so shocked to see you with all the policemen that day."

"Hm, I should have. I'm sorry." He pursed his lips. "But if I had, then I wouldn't have been able to see the face you made whenever you called me a criminal."

His mouth curved into a wicked smirk.

"W-What? I didn't make any face!" she protested furiously.

"You did and it was adorable," he drawled. "Okay, now back to my question, why did you apologize?"

Iman's face hardened and she dropped her gaze, heaving a rough intake of breath. After a long moment of silence, she looked up again and opened her lips to answer. 

"I'm...sorry for everything, Zain. For dragging you into this mess; and your family too. I know baba jaan met your father and how he pressurised him. You must've expected me to say no when you asked my father to get my consent-"

"No, I didn't." His sharp intrusion didn't let her cap the sentence. "But I didn't expect you to say yes either," he stated with a nebulous glint in his eyes. "I asked your father to get your consent because I wanted you to have the freedom to choose, Iman."

She stared at him―touched by his solicitude that she so didn't deserve. A pang of conscience shot through her and she felt the need to pour her heart out rising within her. Inhaling a tremulous breath, she slowly began;

"There was no place for me in my house. My father didn't want to bear the burden of my presence so I... decided to give him what he wanted. I didn't want to ruin your life, Zain but I just... didn't know what else to do. I'm really sorry."

Zain looked at her wordlessly for a long moment―long enough for her to feel the fervency of his profound gaze seep into her skin and cause an unnerving sensation in the pit of her belly.

What was he thinking? What was he going to say? No, why wasn't he saying anything? A crowd of anxious thoughts slowly started filling her mind and her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress in tension but before she could further get harassed by her overthinking, his guttural voice ended the tormenting silence.

"You're so naive, Iman."

Zain exhaled a deep sigh and shook his head―making her mind plunge into confusion.

Her lips parted to ask him why had he called her that-

"Ruin it," he breathed―taking her words, voice and her breath away. "You're allowed to do whatever you want with my life."

The slow movement of his lips stretching into a seraphic smile and a devilish glint flickering in those smokey orbs of his made her heartbeat rise―up, up and up until she could feel it in her throat.

She swallowed.

Not giving her a chance to recover and calm her racing heart, Zain spoke again in a candid tone; "Hey, did you mind when I grabbed your hand?"

Iman's eyes spanned and fire crept in her cheeks at his sudden, erratic query.

He watched her quietly, awaiting her response and she struggled to form a coherent reply in her current―flustered―state. So, she tore her gaze and let it fall on the wreath of tulips on the side and forced her lips to move, "I.. uh...w-well... n-not really..."

She sewed her eyes tightly and berated herself in the privacy of her mind for floundering like a fool.

"Good," Zain's appreciation echoed around, making her eyes fly open, "Because I'm going to do it again."

As her stunned head turned to him, his hand rolled forward and claimed hers―wrapping around her fingers as he gently pulled it toward him.

And then he placed his other hand on top, housing her little hand in the sanctuary he created with the columns of his fingers.

Warmth engulfed her body as he held her hand like a cherished possession.

"Now, listen to me," he voiced―looking into her eyes with an astounding avidity that didn't allow her to look away, or even blink.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. Your life has been ruined enough! Now, I'll make sure that you get the respect and freedom you deserve. I'll right all the wrongs, Iman and I will stay by your side no matter what." He gave her hand a warm, assuring squeeze and then a smile swam on his lips as he said in a firm voice, "It's a lifetime commitment."

An intense wave of emotions rushed to her heart and made it swell―and for the first time in a long time, Iman felt like she mattered.

His serene presence made her feel seen.

The tenderness of his vow made her feel heard.

The touch of his hands made her feel valued.

And those night-coloured eyes of his―she saw the light of day in those deep pools of compassion. The roshni filled the cracks inside of her, lit the bleak chambers of her heart and made her feel like she could begin again.

His dark eyes gave her hope.

Inhaling a gratified breath that had a rejuvenating effect on her lungs and keeping her soft gaze upon his face, she intoned in a hearty voice;

"Tum bohot achay ho, Zain."

He tilted his head and rasped, "Koi shak?"

A tiny giggle managed to escape her lips and she shook her head―making it clear that she didn't have a shadow of a doubt about that.

Zain smiled at her―relieved to see the ease in her countenance and dropped his gaze onto her mellow hand that he was holding and was going to hold forever.

"Iman... you have very artistic hands." The compliment suddenly left his lips as he looked back up to her face―taking her by surprise.

Iman's heart flapped against her rib cage as she scoured her mind to find a reply but could manage to let out a sheepish, "O-oh."

"Oh," Zain iterated as something flashed on his face. "Which reminds me, I have something for you."

"For me?" she blinked.

"Yeah, your um... moun dikhai," Zain said―watching a hue of coral dusting her features.

He smirked.

"Wait up." He let go of her hand and surged to his feet, padding ahead toward the shelf and when he came back, he was carrying a box enclosed in a sleek grey paper and held closed with a golden ribbon in his hands.

Hunching over and swiftly placing it on the bed, he straightened his form and stood before his bride whose stormy gaze trailed over the gift in wonderment.

"Open it," Zain beckoned―crossing his arms over his chest and studying her curious countenance in amusement.

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, she extended her hands and proceeded to unwrap it―finding a large black box and when she opened it, her eyes met with a rainbow of acrylic colours; a zippered case carrying art brushes of varied shapes and sizes; cellulose sponges; and a sleek white oval palette with rounded wells.

"A paint set," she whispered with a gleam of surprise shimmering in her eyes as she glanced up at her husband.

A nefarious grin irradiated his handsome face as he uncurled his arms and vocalised in a teasing voice;

"Now you can paint me like one of your french boys all you want."

Iman stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds in silence before she dropped her gaze and her hand flew to her mouth―covering it.

Zain noticed the slight wavering of her shoulders but he wasn't ready for what happened next.

She looked up, removing her hand, and a bubble of giggle escaped her lips, followed by another before she burst into a peal of full, unrestrained laughter. 

Zain stilled―so did his breath―so did the world―as the sound of her melodic laugh filled the air and set his heart ablaze.

Oh my god, Zain watched her in complete fascination.

Her lips stretched wide; the crinkles at the corner of her eyes; and the resplendence swathing her silhouette―nothing could rival the beauty of that sight.

It was the paragon of all the loveliness in the whole kayinaat.

She was lovely.

And he was falling more and more in love with her.

The sound of her giggles soon subsided but it echoed in the walls of his heart like a love song on loop.

Her form rose from the bed, face aglow with mirth. "Zain," she intoned as her grey gaze enveloped him. "You're unbelievable."

In a swift movement, Zain stepped forward and his strong arm circled her waist as he tugged her delicate frame toward him, causing the dupatta on her head to slip down and a faint gasp to spill from her lips.

Iman's heart galloped in her throat when the distance between them vanished and her body brushed against his―her palms pressing to his hard chest and their faces mere inches away.

His sultry touch and the searing proximity made thousands of sparks erupt in her veins and she couldn't exhale the breath she was holding―not when he held her in his arms.

So close, that she could admire the wings of his dark and long lashes framing his eyes; could see the little mole he had on the left side of his nose; could see all the soft and angular features of his handsome face.

And so close that she could hear the thudding sound of his heart beating against her hand on his chest.

"And you're unbelievably beautiful." His satiny drawl warmed her face and set her whole body on fire.

"That's why," Zain murmured, a heady smile floating on his lips as he scooped his left hand into the pocket of his ivory waistcoat and took out a small square-shaped box. "Here's your real moun dikhai."

As he motioned to it with a tilt of his head, Iman's gaze migrated from his face to the object he held in his hand and when he unearthed it with a flick of his thumb, a breath of awe left her lips.

Inside the velvet padded jewellery box was a diaphanous, silver necklace with a seashell pendant embellished with a glistening pearl. 

"It's so pretty," she whispered, the shine of the pearl reflecting in her pearly orbs. 

"Nah, not yet." Zain clicked his tongue, prompting her gaze to return to his face. In the next moment, he unwrapped his arm around her waist and stepped back―plucking out the necklace from the box and undoing the clasp.

And then he closed the gap between them again―drifting closer―as he tilted his head and leaned in to put the necklace around her neck. The soft contact of his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of her neck made her pulse flutter.

Zain gently twined the necklace around her throat and his fingers almost grazed her fluttering vein as he retreated, looking at the pendant resting beneath her collarbones with a shine of delight in his eyes.

"Mhm, now it looks pretty," he said, gaze sliding up to her face as he smiled.

And Iman found that smile so so heart melting.

Touching the necklace with her hand and basking in the tenderness of his gaze, Iman opened her mouth and the words that she meant with all her heart and soul flew from her lips, "Thank you, Zain. Thank you for everything."

Zain gazed at her with immense affection welling up in his chest.

He extended his hand toward her face and tucked a wavy lock of hair behind her ear. "Anything for you," he murmured softly, his finger grazing the silver baali dangling in her ear, "Anything."

He pulled his hand back―noticing her lashes grazing her rosé-coloured cheeks as she lowered her eyes and sunk her teeth into her lower lip.

And Zain found the action extremely tantalising.

Sweeping his hand through his inky mane, he pulled a rough breath and tried to stop his mind from diving into the darker territory.

After a few emphatic heartbeats, he spoke; "I... I am gonna go change my clothes."

Iman looked up.

"Do you wanna change yours?" he asked―endeavouring to keep his thoughts in check while asking her that.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Okay then, after you." Zain motioned with his hand.

Iman took out a formal green dress from the small luggage she had brought with her and disappeared into the bathroom as she quickly changed into it. She unpinned her hair and let it cascade down her waist before draping a dupatta across her shoulders and footed back into the room―dropping onto the bed and quietly waiting for him.

Zain stepped out of the walk-in closet, wearing a half-sleeved black shirt paired with sweatpants and made a beeline for the bed his bride was seated on. His eyes roamed over the pillow on the left and suddenly, he bent over and scooped it in his hands.

Iman's lips parted in surprise as she saw his frame veering around and trudging forward―toward the couch.

"A-Are you going to sleep on the couch...." Iman called out nervously but her nervousness morphed into confusion when he threw the pillow onto the couch and picked up the larger one placed next to it with a darker cover.

Zain turned around.

"Why would I sleep on the couch when I have such a huge and comfy bed?" he quirked a brow.

Iman blinked owlishly. "Then why did you walk to the couch with a pillow?"

"To get this one," he clarified, gesturing to the one he was clutching in his hand. "It's comfier."

Iman let out an 'oh' and dropped her head, her gaze sliding across the satiny bed sheet as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Until she heard the sound of his footsteps.

"So you want me to sleep on the couch, huh Iman?"

Iman's gaze and her pulse both flew up as she saw his strapping frame moving toward her―his eyes glimmering with a whimsical emotion and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

She gulped.

"I.. n-no I d-didn't mea-"

"Are you afraid?" His vague query didn't let her finish whatever she was about to stammer out and when he stopped before her and tossed the pillow onto the bed, her heart jumped in her chest.

He hunched over and hooking his hands to the headboard of the bed―on either side of her―he confined her small form between his burly arms.

Chills.

Chills danced on her spine as he slowly leaned in with a twinkle of mischief dancing in his inky eyes.

"Are you afraid that something might happen if we share a bed?" he asked in a dark, gravelly voice.

Her heart burst into fire and the sizzling heat travelled up, spreading across her face as she looked at him, wide-eyed and tongue-tied.

"Are you afraid that..." he trailed, his dusky gaze sliding down her burning face and stopping on her lips for a fleeting moment, causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

His lashes swept up, charcoal and ash grey entwining again, as his lips moved, "That.... you won't be able to control yourself around me?"

It took her fuzzy self a few seconds to comprehend what he had just said and when she did, her jaw dropped in her hands and she blinked at him in an abashed manner.

"Huh, what!?" she exclaimed out along with the breath she had been holding.

Zain lowered the barrier of his arms and straightened himself, a devious smirk manifesting on his lips as he stated, "It's okay, Iman. I know I am irresistible. We already established that in the apartment that night, remember?"

The temperature of her face surged upon the reminder and she stared at him in utter bafflement while Zain enjoyed the scandalised state he had put her in.

Picking up her jaw and fusing her brows into a frown, she grabbed the pillow he had tossed on the bed earlier and placed it on the left side as she bit out, "Sleep here! I won't even look at you."

Zain stifled a chuckle and let his eyes linger over her ruffled features before he padded to the other side and nonchalantly climbed into the bed.

"So you won't even look at me?" he asked, resting his back against the plush headboard of the bed.

"No," came her acute reply.

"Ye toh bohot zaalim saza hojayegi, don't you think?" he rasped with a teasing tilt of his head.

"Ye toh khata karne se phele sochna chaiye tha," she murmured, keeping her gaze pegged ahead.

Zain raised his dark brows at the vacant expression on her face but a grin pulled at his lips when he noticed the slight quivering at the corner of her roseate lips.

And through the corner of her eyes, Iman noticed and felt the burn of his mirthful scrutiny.

Securing her lip between her teeth, she scooted to the edge and a soft murmur left her lips, "Good night," before she reluctantly lied down and turned her back to him.

His grin widened―a giddy feeling wrapping around his senses at the thought of having her sleep next to him―even though he had kinda coaxed her into it by his teasing remarks that always seemed to get her worked up. 

He slightly leaned to her side. "Good night, beauty." 

Moving back to his side and maintaining a modest distance between them, he turned off the lights and settled in the bed.

The absence of the electric light plunged the room into semi-darkness and the chandni of the moon finally got a chance to stream through the glassy entrance of the balcony and tip-toe toward the man lying straight on his back with his arm folded behind his head. The moonlight stroked his chest, mingling with the enraptured rhythm of his heartbeat and travelled up to his dark eyes burning with passion, devotion and affection.

A smile flitted across his lips as he thought about the saza she had given him.

Khata ishq ki hui hai toh saza bhi aashiqana ho. 

His head veered to her side―so did his body―as his gaze fell on her sprawled mane eclipsing her back and he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the black sea of her hair before his eyes fluttered closed and sleep submerged him.

Omar qaid ki saza ho aur dil aapka qaid khana ho.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/n: I didn't end this chapter on a cliffhanger because I wanted y'all to enjoy Zain and Iman moments without worrying over what's coming next (because there are loads of intense things comings next mouahaha)

Also, I'm not really sure if the said moments were actually enjoyable? I need validation so please insert your thoughts here.

Who do you think Haider called? (wrong answers only) XD

I'm honestly overwhelmed with all the love Lut Gaye's been receiving lately and I can't tell you how grateful I am to all of you for hyping me up with your wonderful support. I don't deserve itna sara pyaar but THANKYOU so much.

This chapter is dedicated to @_hibiii_ because she's such a supportive sweetheart! Thankyou for always appreciating the incorrect quotes I post on my MB! :') <3 

And oh, Zain is not a strong believer of "less is more" it's actually me because I HATE WRITING DESCRIPTIONS AND OH MY GOD, this chap is replete with crappy and nonsensical descriptions and I'm really sorry for that. My creativity is on vacation nowadays. 

Follow me on Instagram:   _zinu13 if you wanna see Lut Gaye edits and memes xD I'm pretty entertaining there. B-)

Anyway, I'll (tryyyyyyyyyyyyyy) to see you soon in the next chapter titled: Rise and Fall.