The house buzzed with energy. Between the incoming deliveries, the chatter of excited family members, and the hum of workers setting up decorations, the Khan residence was the epitome of controlled chaos.

Zaina, however, sat in her room, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her peach-colored kurta and matching scarf complimenting her warm skin tone. The outfit, of course, had been picked by her mother.

As she debated whether to join the crowd downstairs, a knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, her voice soft.

The door opened to reveal Azaan, dressed in a crisp peach sherwani that matched her kurta perfectly. His hair was neatly styled, and the faint scent of his cologne filled the room as he stepped in.

Zaina blinked, caught off guard. "You're... matching?"

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Of course. Can't have my fiancée looking better than me, can I?"

She rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched in amusement. "It's not a competition, Azaan."

"Everything's a competition, Zaina," he replied with a wink. "And right now, I'm winning."

The families had planned a joint shopping trip that day to finalize some of the wedding preparations. The group piled into a caravan of cars, heading to the heart of the city where the best designers and vendors awaited them.

Zaina remained quiet for most of the ride, seated beside her mother and Zehra. She fiddled with the bangles Azaan had given her on her birthday, their delicate jingling grounding her thoughts.

Azaan, seated in the front, turned in his seat and glanced back at her. "You okay?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The attention, even his, made her stomach churn with nerves.

The first stop was a renowned boutique for bridal attire. The showroom sparkled with sequins and embroidery, every inch of the space covered in luxurious fabrics and vibrant colors.

As the sales assistant brought out bridal lehengas for Zaina to try, she hesitated, overwhelmed by the attention. The idea of standing in front of everyone while they scrutinized her choices filled her with dread.

Sensing her discomfort, Azaan stepped forward. "Why don't we take our time? Let her browse first."

The room fell silent, surprised by his suggestion. But Zaina's mother nodded in agreement, and the sales assistant stepped aside to let Zaina look through the racks at her own pace.

As Zaina sifted through the outfits, Azaan casually leaned against a nearby counter, his gaze following her.

"Pick something red," he said suddenly.

She looked up, startled. "Why?"

"Because it suits you," he replied simply.

Zaina's cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned back to the clothes. After a few more moments, she picked a deep crimson lehenga with intricate gold embroidery.

"Try it on," Azaan encouraged, his voice softer now.

Despite her nerves, she nodded and disappeared into the fitting room.

When she emerged, the room seemed to pause. The lehenga hugged her curves perfectly, the rich color enhancing her glowing skin and dark hair. Zaina glanced nervously at her family, waiting for their reaction.

Her mother clapped her hands together, beaming. "It's perfect!"

Even Abbas, who rarely showed emotion during these things, gave an approving nod. But it was Azaan's reaction that caught her off guard.

He didn't speak at first, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart race. Finally, he smiled—a small, genuine smile that sent warmth rushing through her.

"You look beautiful," he said simply.

The shopping trip lasted hours, leaving everyone exhausted but satisfied with their choices. On the way back, Zaina found herself seated next to Azaan, the rest of the family chatting animatedly around them.

"You did good today," Azaan said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Zaina glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't run away," he said with a small smirk. "That's progress."

She frowned, though there was no real anger behind it. "I wasn't running away."

"Sure you weren't," he teased, leaning back in his seat.

Despite his playful tone, Zaina couldn't help but feel that he meant what he said as encouragement rather than mockery.

Later that evening, as the house quieted down, Zaina found a small box waiting on her nightstand. Curious, she opened it to reveal a pair of gold anklets, each adorned with tiny bells.

A note was tucked inside:

"For the next time you need a reason to walk confidently. - Azaan"

Zaina's chest tightened as she held the anklets, their delicate weight a reminder of his thoughtfulness.

She didn't know what this marriage would bring, but for the first time, she wondered if it might not be the disaster she feared.

From his room, Azaan stared at his phone, scrolling through wedding tips and ideas. His eyes lingered on a post about building emotional intimacy, and he made a mental note to keep being patient.

Zaina's hesitations weren't going to disappear overnight, but he wasn't in this for the short term.

He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a small bracelet. It was old and worn, something she had dropped years ago at a family gathering. He had kept it, though he couldn't explain why at the time. Now, it felt like a promise—a reminder of the girl he had always known and the woman she was becoming.

Zaina sat on her balcony, the anklets still in her hands. The night was quiet, the stars twinkling above her. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to dream—of a life where she wasn't just a shadow, but someone who shined in her own right.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered that maybe Azaan would help her get there.