"ab toh ye aalam hai."

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It was the first full moon night of the year.

Under the incandescent veil of silvery hues draped over the inky sky, a gust of icy January wind rustled the dark green flag with a white vertical bar―and a crescent and a star in the middle―hoisted on a two-storey building of a Police Station located at the western district of Karachi.

Inside one of the many halls of the capacious building painted a very pale yellow, some of the uniformed policemen were immersed in their assigned duties while others were slouching around.

And on the wide mahogany desk placed in the centre of the space, sat Inspector Saif with his right foot propped on an empty wooden chair before him and left rooted to the ground.

Clothed in a white kameez shalwar with a black blazer eclipsing his torso, he was busy munching on his favourite winter nut; moongphali. Cracking open the shell with his fingers, he was about to pop another peanut in his mouth when an anxious male voice interrupted him.

"Sir, at least tell us why you've brought us here? What did we do? What's our crime?" asked one of the two men tensely perched on the other two chairs lining the desk.

Both men looked like they were in their mid-twenties; one of them had a short stature and a buzz cut while the other one was relatively taller and had a dark curly mane sitting atop his head.

Heaving out a sigh, Saif veered his head and shot a stale look at the male duo he had apprehended from the parking lot of a shopping mall earlier―on a certain someone's order.

"Kisne kaha tha bhabhi kay baray mein bukwaas karne ko?"

"Bhabhi?" They both echoed in sync, looking at each other and then turning their confusion-laced gaze to the police officer. "Whose bhabhi?"

"My bhabhi," Saif stated and then peering over their stiffened shoulders, he gestured straight ahead with his head. "And, his wife."

The duo instantly craned their necks in that direction, their gazes falling on the rugged figure of a man standing at the entrance of the room―and they immediately sprang to their feet when the realization that it was the same man they had seen earlier at the parking lot struck them.

Walked in Zain―all menacing and daunting―with his dark eyes narrowed, lips set in a bleak line, and a cold, unforgivingly cold, look shadowing his face.

"Sir!" The lower-ranked policemen present in the hall greeted him with courteous salutes but not paying heed to any of them, Zain bolted straight ahead and halted―loomed like a calamity―over the two fuckfaces standing before him with their eyes wide and tongues tethered.

The men Zain couldn't teach a lesson earlier at the mall because he didn't want to create a scene in front of Iman.

But his anger had gotten the better of him and he had texted Saif right there, the details and location of these bastards, along with the order to detain them and bring them to the Police Station where he had been posted for a while before joining the special unit.

And he was still very, very angry.

"So, you shitheads think my wife is an item?" Zain spat, raking them with his malefic eyes. "That her figu-" He chewed and swallowed back the rest of the cheap words he had heard earlier from their rotten mouths, not wanting to say them out loud.

In lieu, he stepped forward and stared them down, his black orbs resembling the barrel of a gun. "I seriously want to rip your tongues and gouge your filthy eyes out! How dare you even look at her like that?"

Already petrified by the realization that they had barked nonsense about a policeman's wife―that too in front of him―and the said officer's lethal presence, the men gulped in horror.

"S-Sir, s-sorry, please forgive us. We didn't know she was your wife," the curly-haired man apologized in an urgent, quivering voice.

"Even if she wasn't, is that how you talk about a woman?" Zain thundered, fury coating his raised tone. "It's because of scums like you women don't feel safe in public places and live in constant fear of facing harassment."

The man with buzz-cut opened his mouth to apologize once again but was left speechless by the lawman's statement.

"I should call your families here and let them know what you've been doing," Zain intoned curtly.

"No, no please Sir, don't do that. Don't humiliate us like that, please," The curly-haired guy pleaded, looking like he was about to drop down to his knees.

"Yes, please don't." The other guy joined the plea. "If my fiancée's family even got the wind of this, they're gonna-"

"Fiancée?" Saif parroted incredulously, mounting a brow and then getting off the table and straightening himself, he stepped forward and straight up slapped the buzz-cut guy across the face, hard.

"Kaminey, you're engaged aur sarkon per aisi harkaten karte phirte ho!" Saif bit out.

"Ek aur laga isko," Zain ordered.

"Gladly." Saif shrugged and gave him a bunch of fives in the face again, satisfied with the pained groan his punch coaxed out of the guy as he stumbled back and fell on the floor, clutching the side of his jaw.

Upon witnessing the assault, the curly-haired man gulped―fearing he might receive the next blow―and immediately joining his palms together, turned to Zain and began pleading in a frantic voice;

"Sir, please, I am really really sorry. I swear, it won't happen again, in fact, I-I won't even look at a woman again."

"We, we." The man beside him with a now bruised jaw interrupted, standing up from the floor and elbowing his partner.

Ignoring him, the man went on with his imploration.

"Please let me go-"

"Us, us." The buzz-cut guy interjected again and this time, his friend shoved a glare his way, followed by a crude curse, before continuing to beg.

"Sir, please forgive us. I beg you, please, let us go. We promise to behave from now on, we will respect women. Please have some mercy."

"Haan bhai, maar diya jaye ya chor diya jaye?" Saif asked Zain with a wicked wiggle of his thick black brows, heightening the trepidation of the duo present before him already trembling in fear.

Zain regarded them with a frosty stare for a few throttling seconds and then, in an equally icy voice, he delivered a warning with a sharply raised finger that sent a chill down the duo's spine.

"Ainda agar aisi harkaten karte hue kahin mujhe dikhay, toh khaal udhair doonga tum dono ki."

They both swallowed hard and then shook their heads, chanting never again.

"Let them go," Zain instructed in a magisterial tone.

And right after that, he gestured to Saif with his eyes to follow him and veering around, he stormed out of the hall.

Saif chuckled; swivelling to the duo and eyeing them with an evil grin as he popped a peanut in his mouth―turning towards the exit the next moment and swaggering out to join his friend.

The two men left behind released a relieved sigh and were about to careen out of the place as well when a loud abrasive voice echoed around.

"Where do you think you're going."

A uniformed constable slammed his hands on their shoulders from behind, impeding their departure.

"Sir said we can go," the curly-haired man turned around and told him.

"Haven't you heard that saying?" The constable hoisted a corrupted brow, a predator-like grin creeping on his chapped lips, "A trip to the police station is always costly, never free."

"Matlab?" the man asked stupidly.

"Matlab ye kay paisay nikaal salay!"

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Sauntering through the hallway of the police station, Saif and Zain were involved in a conversation, occasionally stopping when the uniformed officers passing by greeted them.

"Did you hear the news?" Saif suddenly asked Zain as they climbed down the stairs and stepped out into the compound of the station, the cold winds enveloping their frames.

"What news?"

"An innocent citizen was gunned down by two members of our eagle force during snap-checking today."

Zain's eyes spread in horror. "Are you serious?!"

"Yeah. "Saif nodded. "The boy didn't stop when they signalled him to, so they chased him and... shot him to death on the stairs of his apartment."

"Oh my god!" Zain palmed his forehead and then slid his hand down his face in utter frustration and dismay when the horrifying realisation, that the offenders were the members of one of the forces formed to tackle the robbers roaming in the city, hit him.

It was like a brutal slap in the face for his whole department.

Saif exhaled a dejected breath and mumbled, "Another thing to add to our list of sins; an innocent life taken by policeman's bullets."

"I can't fucking believe this," Zain seethed. "The men sent there to protect the lives and belongings of the citizens are taking lives? What the fuck is wrong with them? Aren't they aware of the most basic dictum that unarmed civilians must not be shot at?"

"Does seem like they aren't." Saif shook his head in disappointment. "They were arrested earlier though."

"Good," Zain said through clenched teeth, black irises burning with fury. "Let's make sure everything is done to bring them to justice."

"Yeah, that's the least we could do," Saif replied, reaping a coarse sigh from him.

Zain knew his institution needed major reforms; the policeman needed better and sensible training, better equipment and of course,  accountability.

And the one who held authority over the force, his father, was doing everything in his power to make a change but dammit, dammit, his fellow policemen were so hell-bent on destroying the already stained and struggling image of their department.

The two law enforcers lamented over the failures of their forces and chatted for a while before Zain took a glimpse of the ticking time on his wristwatch.

"I should go back home now. I told Iman I'll be back in an hour."

"Wah bhai, bari punctuality agayi hai shadi kay baad," Saif fleered.

Zain rolled his eyes.

"Did you tell bhabhi about why you came here?" Saif queried, a waggish hue painting his bronze features.

"No, why would I do that? It's embarrassing," Zain told him, scratching the back of his neck.

"Nah." Saif clicked his tongue. "She might get impressed. Maria told me women dig that stuff."

"What stuff?"

"This whole... " Saif trailed, gesturing with his hands. "You know, being protective and possessive stuff."

"Is that why Maria broke up with you because you weren't protective and possessive enough?" Zain asked with a cheeky grin.

"I was actually sure she broke up with me because I accidentally broke her Tilbury or Blueberry makeup palette or something, but now that you've mentioned it, that could be the main reason," Saif ranted in a serious tone, thoughtfully rubbing the side of his jaw.

"Aisa kar tu beth ker aur reasons soch, main chalta hoon," Zain gave him a tight-lipped smile and patted his shoulder, earning a disappointed tsk from his friend.

"Dost dost na raha." Saif made a dramatic face, eliciting a laugh out of Zain as he playfully smacked his shoulder.

Saying Allah Hafiz to his dost, Zain took his leave and walked out of the Police Station, getting in the car and driving back home.

To his pyaar.

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The hour had fallen, night had grown murkier, and the autumn chill had intensified when Zain returned home.

Stationing the vehicle on the porch, he hopped out and traipsed through the dimly-lit pathway leading to the entrance of the taupe-coloured building. He was passing by the lush, verdant garden of his house when his gaze involuntarily caught a glimpse of Iman standing on the balcony of his room, their room.

The sight arrested the lawman, stilling his gaze, his feet, and his breath, as he looked up and stared at her sylphlike form, mesmerized.

Leaning against the steel railing of the balcony with a pashmina shawl wrapped around her frame, she was looking up at the sky, the moonbeams pouring on her seraphic face―and her black hair, as black and velvety as the night sky, swaying gently around her

Zain didn't know why but the sight made him recall the folktale he had heard from a local storyteller when he had visited a majestic lake located on the northern side of Pakistan―a classic fable of an Egyptian prince who fell in love with the queen of fairies when he saw her in a dream, by a lake, and then embarked on a journey to find her.

After six years and forty days of pining, struggling, wandering like a madman in her search and praying endlessly, he eventually saw her on a chowdween ki raat, at the same divine lake he had dreamt of, where the seven fairies of Koh-e-Kaaf descended to bathe on every full moon night along with their queen―their queen, Badr-ul-Jamal―the one who outshone all the golden-haired fairies with her long, black hair and face as lucent as the moon, the one who had seized the prince's heart.

Zain wondered if the queen of fairies had looked as enrapturing that night as Iman did tonight―no, at that moment, his Iman outshone all the luminescence in the world, looked more beauteous than any magical sprite.

Her head suddenly turned and as her silvery gaze swooped on his rooted figure, Zain saw how her eyes lit up, shoulders relaxed and lips unlaced as she heaved out a sigh.

A relieved sigh? he pondered.

And then a tiny smile floated on her lips that he returned with a wide stretch of his own lips.

Unfastening his ravished gaze the next second, he started moving his feet again, making his way into the house and hurriedly climbing up the stairs, stopping before the door of his room.

The moment he opened the door, he wasn't surprised to see Iman standing right before him. He had expected her to, especially after seeing the eagerness clouding her countenance.

"Took me exactly an hour," he told her, raising his hand and tapping on the watch tied on his wrist.

"Thank god you're back," Iman exhaled, voice overflowing with contentment as if a long, agonizing wait had ended.

Zain walked into the room and took off the jacket he was wearing over the red sweatshirt, casually tossing it onto the couch.

Veering around, he footed back to her and standing in front of her, he asked, "What's wrong, Iman?"

She gulped.

"You've been acting strange ever since we got out of the mall. Is there something you want to tell me?"

His visage was soft but his gaze was probing and penetrating as he silently waited for her answer.

Iman bit the insides of her cheek, inhaling a pivotal breath and then decided to bite the bullet as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Y-Yes, I... I want to tell you something."

"Hm?"

"I... I met Haider today at the mall."

"What?" Zain uttered in shock, eyes spanning. "And you are telling this to me now? Now?" His voice almost turned into a growl. "What was that bastard doing there? I don't think he was there to shop, was he?"

So she told him everything: from his unexpected appearance to his prickling questions to his terrifying threats―opting to edit out the part where he had made the assertion that she would come back to him because that was impossible and was never going to happen anyway.

Also, the cresting anger on Zain's face as she narrated the incident further cemented her resolve that she shouldn't tell him about the specific things, the nonsense, Haider had spewed about her.

"So that commotion was orchestrated by him to keep me occupied so he could go and threaten you?" His traits twisted and then a dry scoff fled his lips, "Unbelievable. I didn't know he could be this ridiculous."

"Zain I.. I'm so scared. What if he does something bad?" Anxiety bled into her tone.

"Then I'll do something worse," he snarled. "And why are you scared? You think I cannot take on a loser like him!?"

"I don't want you to take him on!" she exclaimed, distraught, ashen eyes burning into his charcoal orbs. "I don't want you to get involved in something bad again because of me. You've already suffered so much because of me and now... now Haider has become your enemy I just―" Her shoulders dropped and so did her head as she murmured looking down, "I-I am really sorry, Zain. My presence is nothing but a curse."

Zain's expression instantly softened, the fury running in his veins and swathing his senses washing away and being replaced by remorse. For a moment, he had been so blinded by resentment that he couldn't notice the distress lurking in her eyes and weighing down her spirits.

Biting down on his lower lip, he moved closer and called out her name, "Iman."

And then he placed a tender hand on her dainty shoulder, making her lift her head as her glistening grey eyes met his―now calmer and kinder―ones.

"Your presence is not a curse, it's a blessing. You are a blessing. Please don't say things like that and stop blaming yourself for everything. I don't like it when you do that."

"I just don't want to... cause any more trouble for you, Zain." Her voice warbled.

"Then stop worrying," he said, giving a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. "Nothing troubles me more than that."

"Leken w-wo Haider-"

"Usko main dekh loonga."

A bleak aura swathed his countenance and then his lips curled upward into an icy sneer as he bit out, "Someone who didn't even have the guts to confront me like a man and decided to terrorise my wife instead doesn't scare me, not even a bit."

"But he said he will-"

"He will do nothing, Iman." His hand travelled up to her face and he cupped the side of her cheek. "And if he did, then I know very well how to tame the likes of him."

Iman was worried for his safety but she couldn't avoid how safe she felt when he was with her, when his eyes were on her―those deep spheres of ink were her oasis of comfort.

She knew no matter how dark and cold the night got, she was always going to see the light with him by her side, it was always going to be warm inside his eyes.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked with a delicate stroke of his thumb across her cheek―his touch warming her skin and tugging at the strings of her heart.

She did. "I do."

"Bas phir take a deep breath and forget what happened today," but he was not going to forget, "Don't let it take control over your emotions."

So, Iman did as she was told, willingly and heartily.

Inhaling the sweet and soothing scent of his presence, she exhaled all the negative thoughts plaguing her mind and body.

"But yeah," he spoke again, withdrawing his hand. "If something like that happens again, which I'll make sure it won't, you're going to tell me right away, okay?"

Iman bobbed her head, a wave of relief washing over her after sharing everything with him, feeling like a boulder had been lifted off her chest and she could finally breathe.

"Now tell me, did you eat?" he enquired, at which she shook her head and replied with a small nahi.

"Let's go and have dinner then," said Zain with a smile as he grabbed her hand and the couple made their way downstairs.

The clock had struck past twelve so the other members of the family―barring his father who wasn't at home―had already retired to their rooms.

They ate in a mellow, relaxing silence.

After dinner, they went back into the room―Zain disappearing into the walk-in closet to get changed, and Iman made a beeline for the couch he had thrown on his jacket earlier.

Iman liked having everything in place; organised and unscattered and while his room was spotlessly clean and arranged, she had noticed Zain had a bad habit of throwing his clothes on the couch.

She picked up the jacket and was about to turn when her eyes involuntarily fell on the paint box Zain had gifted her on the shelf in the corner.

'Look how easily you painted me as some kind of a villain," Haider's bitter voice suddenly assaulted her mind, making a bitter pang traverse through her.

No, she shook her head, trying to ward off the thoughts resurfacing in her head, she was not going to let him affect her.

Distract.

Pulling in a deep breath, she padded towards the bed, holding his jacket in her hands and placed it on the mattress as she waited for Zain to come out so she could go and hang it in the closet.

Distract.

Gathering her obsidian mane in her hand, she was busy twisting it into a bun when the sound of Zain's footsteps reached her ears. She whirled around to face him and-

He was shirtless.

Iman stilled―her warped hair slipping out of her hands and cascading down her back as her lips parted and eyes took in the sight of his half-naked frame standing by the couch, his gaze hooked to the phone in his hand.

Normally, her immediate reaction would have been to shut her eyes or swivel her body but at that moment, she could do neither because she was completely struck.

And it wasn't alone because of the toned musculature of his sturdy physique but also the scars that bespectacled his slick pale skin.

There was a thin, subdued line below his right collarbone and a wider one marking his abdomen on the same side. On the left, there was a circular scar on the side of his ribs and a tiny, crescent-shaped right beneath it but the most visible and prominent one was on his chest―the knife wound he had suffered on the night they had met.

It was still healing―the bright pink streak stretching out in a horizontal line across his pectoral.

"Oh my god, what is this!" she almost yelped.

Zain looked up from the phone, eyes meeting the gaping face of his wife and noticing her silver irises trailing over his body. "What?"

Quirking a brow, he straightened himself and queried playfully, "You never seen a hot, manly body before?"

"I didn't know you had more scars on your hot bod...y."

Too late, she realized, swallowing down the regret as she braced herself for the inevitable teasing that she could see brewing in his dark orbs and the devious smile pulling at his lips.

"So you think my body is hot."

Throwing his phone onto the couch, he took a step towards her.

"I didn't say anything like that," she denied in a strained voice, frozen to the spot.

"I heard you saying that pretty loud and clear, Iman." His dark baritone ricocheted in the room as he kept shrinking the distance between them with his languid strides, elevating the tempo of her heartbeat with each step.

And then he stopped merely a metre away from her; bare-chested, smirking, staring right into her eyes―a fatal trinity.

It became a strenuous effort for Iman to hold his absorbing gaze, and also stopping her own from slipping down to his torso.

"Y-You're hearing things," Iman told him, barely managing to keep her gaze and voice steady.

"You coward," he rasped, grin widening. "Why don't you admit it like a man."

"I am not a man," she scowled.

Zain snorted.

"Then admit it like a woman." Hunching slightly, he leaned closer the next second and levelled down to her face. "My woman,"

Heat flew into her cheeks and her heart did a little jump in her chest at his possessive declaration.

The air suddenly became warm and heavy, laced with searing tension, and it was her cue to withdraw from this battle of brazenness because there was no chance she could win against him, not when his face was mere inches away from her and the mischievous depth of his inky eyes were gradually turning serious, intense.

So, she inhaled a tremulous breath and whirled around, escaping that piercing stare and ready to walk away.

"It hurts."

His deep guttural voice fell onto her aural and hampered her expedition before it could begin―her frame immediately spinning around and facing him.

"What? Where?" she queried anxiously, falling right back into the cross hairs of his scorching stare.

This time, the lawman had no intention of letting her escape.

"I don't know," he said slowly and then a flame leapt in his eyes. "Let's find out?"

Before her confusion could emerge on her face, Zain seized her right hand and pulled it up, placing it on the hollow curve of his neck.

"Maybe here," he mumbled darkly.

A hushed gasp broke free the seal of her lips when she felt the warmth of his skin and the throb of his pulse under her palm. And then his large hand―that held her own hand captive―slowly skidded down his clavicle, sending shockwaves throughout her body.

"Or here," he spoke again, turning her hand to the right, letting it swipe over the corded muscles of his broad chest, kindling an electric charge that rippled all the way from her fingertips to her now accelerating heart.

Her breath hitched in her throat, lips felt dry and heart drummed against her ribcage as her hand covering hers lingered over his sternum.

She could've broken the smouldering eye contact right there, could've freed her hand and walked away but she felt utterly powerless, hazy, and a little...

hypnotized.

Hypnotized by the way the recessed ceiling lights of the room gilded his pale skin in an ethereal glow; by his deep, electric eyes; by the alluring mess of his luscious black hair falling over his forehead; by his full, provocative lips.

By the way he was so unbothered by his scars and wore them confidently like they were his badges of bravery―and they truly were. By his musky and masculine scent. By the manliness his entire presence radiated.

He hypnotized her.

His hand suddenly moved south in an agonizingly slow motion, her inflamed palm feeling the grooves of his rock solid abs, making the thundering palpitations in her chest more feral.

As he made her hand travel down and down and down, the beat of her heart rose and rose until she could feel it thrumming against the roof of her throat.

Suddenly, his hand―covering and holding hers in a firm grip―flew up, the movement making his arm muscles swell.

"Here," Zain whispered.

He pressed her burning palm to his thumping heart, right beneath the healing scar on his chest, the wound she had treated that night, and with each rhythmic beat of his heart she felt against her hand; her knees grew weaker and weaker.

And then, his smokey irises flashed and a deep and sensuous, "C'mere," escaped his lips.

In a swift moment, his left hand snaked around her waist and he pulled her close to him, eliminating all the distance between them, making her plaint curves press against the hard planes of his bare torso.

The heat simmering in her bosom exploded like a volcano and spread through every canal of her body at the contact and a gasp flew out of her lips as she stood there, wrapped in his steadfast arms, feeling her fast and uneven breaths mingling with his sharp, leaden ones―and her heartbeat, their heartbeats, reverberating against their pressed bodies.

His gaze, his behki nigahen, hooked on her face, dark and wanting.

Dark with wanting.

As his intoxicated gaze slowly slipped and settled on her parted lips, his grip on her waist tightened, rugged fingers dug into her soft flesh―making a quiver dart through her spine.

She felt him leaning in closer, his lips a breath away from her lips―her own breath stuck in her throat.

But then a sly smile danced on his lips and his head arched as he planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek―the tender caress of his lips and the rough texture of his stubble grazing her skin.

His lips lingered and with each moment that passed, warmth seeped into her skin, permeating throughout her body.

And it burned, and burned, and burned.

His hand on her waist moved, gliding up the curve of her spine in a maddeningly tentative manner, tracing the edge of her ribs over the fabric of her shirt and drifting upwards, swimming in the silky sea of her black hair shrouding her back―until it reached to her shoulder blades where no fabric covered her skin.

As his long and tapered fingers swept across the bare skin of her small back, she felt him drag his lips across her cheek, brushing over the side of her jaw and reaching down the curve of her neck―each touch and movement slow, sultry and deliberate, setting her body ablaze.

Iman sucked in a coarse breath as her eyes fluttered closed, the veins in her body coiling, flaring, and toes curling―slowly losing herself in the new, exotic sensation pulsating through her.

A sudden hissing sound echoed in her ears―prompting her to open her eyes―and she felt him flinch before pulling away and providing her a glimpse of what had caused him to halt his ministrations.

Her silver, hazy eyes took in the red scratch marks her long sharp nails had carved right onto his heart where her hand was still trapped in his grip. The haze dissipated and her irises widened the next moment with absolute guilt. How-when did she do that?

"S-Sorry. I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Zain cut her off, the side of his lips hoisting up as he drawled, "I love the way it stings."

A hot blush consumed her features and she quickly lowered her gaze, letting it linger over his collarbones.

"I actually wouldn't mind having more marks like these on my body, you know. Especially on my bac-"

"Zain!" she shrieked, wide and flustered gaze swinging up and falling on his beaming face.

"Ye kya- tum ye... k-kuch bhi bol rahay ho tum!" she sputtered out, trying her best to throw a glare his way but her skin felt too hot and stiff to even draw her brows into a frown so instead, she mumbled weakly, "Tumhe waqae bilkul sharam nahi aati."

His chest rumbled with a dark, frolicsome chuckle and her hand on his heart felt the electrifying sensation, trembling.

Trembling.

And it was too much. Too much. She couldn't take it anymore. She felt like she would combust.

So, with an abrupt movement and a light jerk, she recoiled back and freed her hand, herself, from his grip.

Whirling around, she took a step forward, another, and another, before she pressed her palm―that had almost explored every inch of his bare torso―to her chest in an attempt to calm her feral beats, to tame her uneven breaths. She probably needed to put her hand on a block of ice or something because it felt like hot lava was flowing inside of it.

Before she could further ponder on the ailments to soothe her heated state, she felt his strong, looming presence behind her.

Zain cocked his head to the side, his hot breath warming the cave of her creamy neck as he whispered huskily;

"Leken mjhe tum pe ye sharam bohot achi lagti hai."

Chills rippled through her body and butterflies filled her belly, flapping their wings wildly as she stood there, her breathing ragged, her mind dizzy.

She didn't dare to lift her gaze or turn her flushed face to him but Zain wanted to see her, wanted her eyes on him.

In a beat of a moment, his frame pivoted and he was standing before her, fondly looking at the scrumptious shyness decorating her oh-so-beautiful face. Her rose beige skin radiant with a flush, sooty eyelashes lowered, wisps of untamed hair, and those cherry blossom cheeks.

"G-Go and put a shirt on," she murmured, eyes still pegged to the floor.

"Why?"

"Because it's hot-" she bit her tongue, shutting her eyes momentarily, embarrassingly, before opening them with an endeavour to rectify her mistake, "Cold." She looked him up in the eye again. "I m-mean the weather... you... uh.. might catch a cold."

"In this warm room?" He arched a brow.

That was the problem. The room wasn't warm anymore, it was boiling because of his sweltering presence but he didn't need to know that so Iman daftly urged, "Yes. Just... just go and wear a shirt, please."

And then she lowered her gaze again.

Zain stared at her for a few moments with an affectionate shine in the opaque realm of his eyes and then his hand rolled forward as he stroked her head in a slow-moving, sedating manner.

Iman felt like he was stroking her soul. 

He then tucked a wavy wisp of her hair behind her ear―his finger trailing over her slender jawline and moving down to her chin, slowly turning the cool and calming sensation she felt into fire.

Lifting her chin with his index finger―the action causing a truncated gasp leave her lips―he leaned forward and looking into her eyes, he whispered, "As you say, Iman."

With a simpering smile adorning his lips, he recoiled and swivelling around, he footed towards the walk-in closet and Iman shamelessly stared at the sinuous muscles of his swole back until he disappeared into the space―closing her eyes the next second, shaking her head and covering her burning face with her hands.

When Zain walked back into the room, clad in a sleeveless obsidian vest and matching trousers, she had already settled in bed, her back leaning against the headboard and head turned to the side.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he crawled into the bed and settled beside her but she still didn't look at him.

He hoped she wasn't thinking about today's unpleasant events. And he also hoped he had given her better, pleasing things to think about.

But still, just to make sure, "Hey, don't worry," he told her briskly.

She turned her head and looked at him quizzically. "About what?"

"About anything," he assured, traits mellow but irises aglow with a wild conviction , "As long as I'm with you, you don't have to worry about anything or anyone."

Iman stared at him in sacred silence for more than a few seconds and in those blissful seconds, she was overcome with a great feeling of gratefulness; for having him in her life, for being allowed to be a part of his.

Then stay, she wanted to tell him, stay with me for a long, long time.

But the words never made it to her tongue and stayed hidden in the crevice of her heart, too shy to come out―it was hard to voice them out loud.

So, she just nodded with a tranquil  smile, hoping he would read the request swirling in her eyes.

And he did.

As their gaze remained entangled in a warm embrace, his heart understood the language of her heart.

Until my very last breath.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/n: The amount of times I've used the word "heart" and "warm" in this chapter is actually making me shudder. I'm sorry, I ran out of synonyms.

The real winner and highlight of this chap is Iman's hand lmao coz it got to explore Zain's hot bod--- okay I should stop now.

Also, my man Zain be terrorising random men who trash-talked his wife instead of capturing dangerous criminals and robbers roaming in the city. 😭 He be like: aag lage basti mein, ham apni masti mein.

He was actually dying for romance so he took control over me and made me write this chap but don't worry, I'm deff sending him back to work in the next one.

Lemme know what you make of this chap tho---also, bonus points if you know which lake and tale Zain was talking about when he saw Iman standing on the balcony :P

This chap is dedicated to addyfy because today is the day we talked for the first time so it's kinda like our watty anniversary hahaha! <33 I loveeeeee youuuuuuuu, AdiTEA, my favourite cup of tea. *bear hugs*

Also, if you wanna see Saif XD, head over to my Instagram @ _Zinu13

I'll see you in chapter twenty four.