The boutique was abuzz with preparations for an upcoming fashion showcase—an annual event that drew industry leaders, clients, and designers from across the city. Zainab had been invited to present her collection, and for the first time, Zaina's designs would also be featured.

It was a huge step forward, but Zaina's nerves were already fraying.

"Ammi, are you sure about this?" she asked one afternoon, staring at the fabric draped across her workstation.

Her mother looked up from her sketches, raising an eyebrow. "Zaina, you're ready for this. You've worked so hard, beta. And these designs are brilliant."

Zaina chewed her lip, glancing at her sketches. The bold cuts, intricate embroidery, and pastel palettes were unlike anything her mother had done before—a modern take on traditional bridal wear.

"But what if people don't like them?" Zaina asked hesitantly.

Zainab walked over, placing a reassuring hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Beta, this is your moment. Trust your talent. Trust yourself."

Though her mother's words were comforting, Zaina couldn't completely shake her doubts.

By the time Zaina returned home that evening, exhaustion had set in. She dropped onto the couch, her mind racing with thoughts of the showcase.

"Jaan-e-man," Azaan called from the kitchen, "I can hear those wheels turning from here."

She smiled faintly as he appeared, holding two cups of chai. He handed her one, sitting beside her and studying her face.

"You've been working non-stop," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's going on?"

"I'm just nervous," she admitted. "What if my designs aren't good enough?"

"Bas karo, Zaina," (Enough, Zaina,) he said, shaking his head. "You've been questioning yourself for too long. Look at what you've accomplished already. You're about to show the world your talent—and believe me, they're going to love it."

Her lips trembled, but his confidence in her steadied her nerves.

"Now," he continued with a playful grin, "finish your chai. Then I'm taking you shopping for a new outfit to wear tomorrow."

The car hummed softly as they drove through the quiet streets. Zaina leaned her head against the window, the cool glass calming her nerves.

"I still can't believe you're making me shop at this hour," she teased.

Azaan chuckled, his hand resting casually on the gearshift. "Anything for you, jaan-e-man. You're the star of tomorrow, and you should look the part."

They arrived at a boutique that stayed open late for VIP clients, and Zaina couldn't help but feel a little awed as Azaan held the door open for her.

As she browsed, she felt his gaze on her, warm and unyielding.

"What?" she asked, turning to him.

"You look beautiful when you're focused," he said, his voice soft.

Her cheeks flushed as she looked away, pretending to study a rack of dresses.

Finally, she chose an elegant emerald-green gown with delicate gold accents. Azaan's eyes lit up when he saw it.

"Yeh bilkul tumhare liye banaya gaya hai," (This was made just for you,) he said.

Zaina gave him a shy smile. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," he said, stepping closer. "But honestly, you'd look beautiful in anything."

The showcase venue was dazzling. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and rows of elegantly dressed guests filled the room. Models wearing Zainab's collection glided down the runway, their intricate lehengas and gowns earning admiring murmurs.

Zaina stood backstage, her heart racing as her turn approached. Her designs were next, and though her mother had reassured her countless times, the fear of failure loomed large.

Azaan appeared beside her, dressed in a tailored black suit that complemented her emerald gown. He placed a hand on her waist, grounding her.

"Zainab Khan ki beti ho, aur ab Zaina Khan ki apni pehchaan hai," he said, his voice low and steady. (You're Zainab Khan's daughter, and now you've made your own identity as Zaina Khan.)

Her eyes glistened with emotion, and she nodded. "Thank you."

"Mujhe shukriya mat kaho," (Don't thank me,) he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. "I'm just reminding you of what you already know."

When her first design appeared on the runway, Zaina held her breath. The pastel-pink lehenga shimmered under the lights, its intricate embroidery catching every eye.

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, and applause erupted.

Tears prickled her eyes as one by one, her creations dazzled the audience.

As the event wound down, Zaina found herself mingling with guests who wanted to congratulate her. But when she turned a corner, she froze.

Her ex was there, his smirk widening as their eyes met.

"Impressive," he said mockingly, gesturing toward the runway. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Zaina's throat tightened, but before she could respond, Azaan appeared at her side.

"Can I help you?" Azaan asked, his voice cool and measured.

Her ex straightened, his confidence faltering. "I was just congratulating Zaina."

"Aapka shukriya zaroori nahi hai," (Your congratulations aren't necessary,) Azaan said, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't need validation from someone like you."

The man glared, but Azaan's calm intensity was unshakable.

"Let's go, jaan-e-man," Azaan said, his arm sliding protectively around Zaina's waist.

As they walked away, he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Koi tumhe chhune ki koshish karega, toh main uska haal bataunga." (If anyone tries to harm you, I'll deal with them.)

Zaina smiled, her heart swelling with love.