The evening unfolded like a soft, intricate tapestry—each thread woven with history, tradition, and delicate promises. The dining room, lit by the golden glow of antique chandeliers, seemed to hum with the weight of expectations and the soft murmur of conversations. Faiz and Samar sat side by side, their eyes glinting with quiet joy as their son, Asfandyar, made his intentions clear, not just through words but in the steady, unyielding light in his eyes.

It had always been this way for Asfandyar. Ever since he could recall the softness of love, ever since the word itself had taken root in his heart, Alayna had been the one constant. Her presence was as familiar as the comfort of his own heartbeat. He had grown up beside her, admired her from afar, and when the time had finally come, he had declared his intentions to the world. To the ones who mattered. To his parents, who understood the gravity of his words.

"Mujhy shadi karni hai baba"

The words had left his lips with a quiet strength that came from years of hidden longing. Samar and Faiz, who had witnessed the depth of his affection, exchanged knowing glances. Faiz's smile was one of approval, the pride of a father who knew what it meant to raise a son with a heart full of honor and respect.

"Yes," Faiz had agreed, his voice deep and full of conviction. "We shall make it official tomorrow."

Asfandyar's heart swelled in his chest, the decision finally made. Tomorrow, Alayna would become his in every sense of the word—his partner, his wife, his soul's true counterpart.

The next day though amidst the joy of the moment, as the evening unfolded with the laughter of friends and family, another story was quietly simmering in the corner of the room.

Yashfa sat at the far end of the table, a vision in a soft, lilac-colored kurta adorned with fine, delicate embroidery. Her chiffon dupatta, draped gracefully over her head, fluttered slightly in the cool evening air, adding an ethereal quality to her already striking presence. The subtle shimmer of the fabric reflected the soft light, a stark contrast to the shadow of conflict she carried within her.

She couldn't escape it—the gaze of Azlaan. It was not overt, not loud, but in the way his eyes followed her every movement, she could feel the weight of his attention. His stare was relentless, simmering beneath the surface of his composed demeanor, like the quiet storm before the rain.

Azlaan had always had this effect on her. Even now, years later, after everything that had passed between them—after the secrets, the unspoken words, the silence that had stretched between them like an untraveled road—he still managed to reduce her to a fragile, burning thing. Every glance from him made her skin prickle with heat, every moment stretched with the memories of a love that had been so fierce, it had nearly destroyed her. Them.

She tried to ignore him, to focus on the conversation happening around her. all of the relative's were talking animatedly to the couple's parents, congratulating them on the upcoming union. Alayna sat beside them, her hands folded demurely in her lap, a soft blush on her cheeks as the ring was carefully placed on her finger. The moment felt like a scene out of a dream—one that was too beautiful to be real.

Their wedding had officially been fixed.

And yet, in the middle of this shared happiness, Yashfa couldn't shake the weight of Azlaan's gaze. He sat at the far end of the table, his posture relaxed, but his eyes... his eyes were anything but relaxed. The intensity of them felt like they had followed her every movement, traced every curve of her figure, memorized every detail of her being. It was as if he owned her in a way no one else could comprehend, and the quiet force of that ownership, that unspoken claim, made her heart stutter.

"Hoor, chalo khana khayen" Yashfa hooked her arm with her best friend and started walking towards the dining room.

As the food was served, her gaze drifted once again to the buffet. The table was laden with platters of biryani, roti, shami kebabs, and the rich qorma that had been carefully prepared by the household staff. The fragrance of spices and ghee filled the air, mingling with the distant chatter of voices. But there, among the dishes, something caught her eye.

A dish of korma—the thick, aromatic gravy spilling over plump pieces of chicken, mixed with cashews.

Yashfa's breath hitched. Cashews.

Azlaan was allergic to them.

Her pulse quickened. Without even thinking, she stood up, her hand brushing against the edge of the table as she moved toward the buffet, her eyes fixed on him. Azlaan, unaware, was pouring himself a portion of the qorma, the ladle in his hand poised to scoop the curry onto his plate. She knew what was coming.

Her fingers curled into a fist for a moment, then released.

Before she could think further, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over his hand as she took the ladle from him. Her voice was low, almost shy, as she spoke.

"Kaaju hain is mein."

The words, soft and deliberate, hung in the air. For a brief moment, her eyes flickered up to his. But they both knew that this wasn't just about the cashews.

It was a silent understanding. A confession of sorts.

Azlaan's lips curled upward in a smile, the kind that was both affectionate and laden with something more—something dangerous. He could feel the subtle tremor in her hand, the warmth in her voice, the care she still held for him despite the years that had passed, despite the pain.

"Hamari begum ko yaad hai" he said, his voice a mere murmur, the words slipping through the air with the quiet grace of a man who had already known the truth. He had always known.

Yashfa didn't answer. Her gaze dropped back to her plate, her heart thundering in her chest as she moved to place the ladle back into the dish. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes again. The memory of their past was still too raw, too sharp, too fresh in her mind. She had tried to move on. She had tried to forget him, to silence the beating of her heart whenever his name crossed her thoughts. But in the presence of Azlaan—his silence, his intensity, the stillness of his gaze—she was reminded of just how much she had never been able to let go.

Azlaan stood there, his presence towering behind her like a shadow she couldn't escape. His fingers brushed lightly against her wrist as he took the ladle back, and though the touch was fleeting, it was enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

"Ek Baar baat sun lo meri bas" he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

Yashfa's heart twisted painfully in her chest. She wanted to respond, wanted to tell him how much he had shattered her—how his leaving had torn her apart—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she simply turned away, retreating to the table where the others were still engrossed in conversation, the gentle clink of glasses and cutlery drowning out the tumult in her heart.

But Azlaan was not done. He watched her retreat, the soft flicker of a smile on his lips. His eyes, dark with an emotion she couldn't name, followed her every movement.

--------------

The boutique was a vision of understated elegance, where every corner seemed to reflect an aura of timeless luxury. Delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the meticulously curated collection of wedding lehengas, gowns, and traditional ensembles. Each garment was a work of art, from the meticulously embroidered fabric to the delicate beadwork, each piece telling a story of grace and refinement. The faint scent of jasmine and rosewater lingered in the air, blending perfectly with the soft strains of classical music that set a peaceful, almost sacred atmosphere.

Alayna, stood before the mirror, her reflection almost ethereal in the boutique's warm light. She wore a simple yet stunning pale pink kurta, the fabric embroidered delicately along the hem and sleeves in fine threadwork. Her ivory trousers flowed effortlessly beneath her, and her large light pink shawl, draped gracefully over her head, covered her chest and shoulders, allowing only her serene face to be fully visible. The contrast between her humble attire and the luxurious space around her only heightened her natural beauty, radiating a quiet elegance that demanded no attention but simply commanded it.

As she gazed at her reflection, Alayna's heart swelled with emotion, her thoughts drifting to the enormity of the moment. Her wedding was approaching, and though it had always seemed like something out of a dream, now it was becoming a reality. This was the most important day of her life—inshaAllah, it would be a day filled with happiness and new beginnings.

The soft sound of footsteps drew her out of her reverie. A woman dressed in a perfectly tailored cream-colored ensemble approached them, her polished demeanor betraying both professionalism and a deep respect. Her gaze immediately recognized who they were—the daughters of some of the country's most influential political figures. She straightened her posture slightly, a subtle show of respect, before addressing them with a quiet, graceful voice.

"Aapko dekh kar humein bohot khushi hui. It is truly an honor to assist you today, especially for your wedding."

Alayna turned, her smile gentle but full of warmth.
"Thank you so much. We're just looking for something simple but elegant. It has to feel... special, you know? But without going overboard, since it's just for the Nikkah."

The sales associate nodded, clearly understanding Alayna's vision. She gestured towards the racks filled with delicate pieces, each more beautiful than the last. The girls began to sift through the dresses, picking up a few that caught their eye.

It was Hooriya who first spotted something that made her heart skip a beat. Her eyes lit up as she approached a lightly shimmering dress, its soft pastel hues glinting under the light. She grabbed it off the rack and held it out excitedly in front of her.

"Alayna api! Yeh dekhain, yeh bilkul apka style hai! itny pyari lagain na aap isme!" She laughed, her joy contagious.

Alayna looked at the dress with a radiant smile and, without a moment's hesitation, handed it to the sales associate, who had already gathered six other dresses for her to try on.

"Let's see if this one works." Alayna chuckled at herself.

"Api, aap try karain na, agar aapko koi bhi pasand na aaye toh hum kahin aur dekh sakte hain." Yashfa suggested.

Alayna nodded in agreement, a touch of nervous excitement in her eyes. With the dresses now in the fitting room, Hooriya and Yashfa settled down on the plush couches just outside. The anticipation in the air was palpable as they waited for Alayna to try on the gowns.

Moments later, the fitting room door opened, and Alayna stepped out, her presence commanding yet so serene. The dress she had tried on was a perfect fit—its pastel pink fabric shimmered like moonlight, the delicate beadwork and lace almost ethereal in the light. The dress hugged her slender form in a way that was both modest and regal.

Her sisters gasped, their eyes wide with awe. Hooriya and Yashfa couldn't hold their excitement in anymore.

"Alayna api! Aap toh MashAllah, bilkul pari lag rahi hain!"

Yashfa's eyes twinkled and she clapped her hands excitedly:
"Yeh dress aap ki khoobsurati ko aur bhi zyada nikharta hai, api! Aap toh waaqai ek princess lag rahi hain."

Alayna's smile grew even wider as she took in their reactions, her heart full of love for her baby cousins. She looked every bit the bride, but in a way that was elegant, modest, and undeniably her. The dress was perfect for her Nikkah, an embodiment of grace and simplicity.

After a few more moments of admiring her reflection, the sales associate approached, her voice calm and respectful.

Alayna's heart full. As they finalized the purchase, the three girls made their way toward the exit, their laughter and conversation filling the air with warmth.

They walked out of the boutique, their hearts light with joy and satisfaction from a successful shopping trip. But as they stepped into the bright, afternoon sunlight, they were met with a sight that immediately stilled the air around them.

Three men, dressed impeccably in tailored suits, stood by the sleek, gleaming cars parked outside. Ayaan, Azlaan, and Asfandyar—each of them exuding an aura of quiet power—were leaning casually against their luxury vehicles, as though they owned the very street they stood on. The high-end watches they wore gleamed under the sun, each one more expensive than some houses. Their presence was intimidating, not because they demanded attention, but because it was a given—everything about them, from their tailored suits to the way they held themselves, spoke volumes about who they were.

The luxury of their cars was only matched by the gleaming watches adorning their wrists—each one more expensive than the house some people lived in. Every detail about them, from the fine fabric of their suits to the way they stood—strong, assured, unbothered—spoke volumes of the influence they wielded. But despite their intimidating stature, it wasn't their presence that demanded respect—it was simply a given.

The soft hum of the city seemed to grow distant, and the world felt a little more still as Hooriya's eyes locked with Ayaan.

Her heart, already fluttering in her chest, skipped a beat. She hadn't expected it—hadn't anticipated how seeing him would make her feel—but the effect was undeniable.

Ayaan Yosuf Baig.

He was a sight to behold, no question. Tall, effortlessly composed, with an air of confidence that didn't shout, but quietly surrounded him like a cloak. His sharp jawline, the way his dark hair was tousled just enough to look careless, the faint hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips—it all came together to make him seem more like a force of nature than a man.

But there was something else, something that she had always noticed, and yet always tried to ignore.

His eyes.

When their gazes met, Hooriya felt that familiar tension in the pit of her stomach. The way he looked at her, as if he could see past the layers of modesty she draped herself in, as though he could see into her soul—it made her feel small and exposed, yet oddly comforted at the same time. She quickly lowered her gaze, trying to regain her composure, but it didn't matter.

Ayaan's lips quirked up into a small, knowing smirk as he saw her.

He didn't need to say a word. The smirk on his face spoke volumes—he knew. He knew what effect he had on her, and yet, he never let it show. But it was the way his gaze softened just for a second, the way his eyes lingered on her, that told the entire story.

There she was—Hooriya. The picture of grace and modesty in her maroon kurta, the rich fabric so understated yet undeniably luxurious. Black shawls were draped over her body, carefully placed to conceal her feminine form, but the way they flowed around her only made her presence feel even more ethereal. Ayaan loved that about her—her modesty. It wasn't the fabric she wore or the way she carried herself that made her beautiful. It was the way her inner strength radiated, untouched by vanity or the world's expectations. That was what made his heart skip a beat.

Hooriya couldn't look at him for long, feeling the weight of his gaze pulling at her. But as the girls slowly made their way towards the men, she couldn't shake the flutter in her chest, the one that had started the moment she saw him.

Azlaan and Asfandyar remained quiet, both of them observing their ladies with their own unique expressions. Azlaan's usually sharp demeanor softened when his eyes landed on Yashfa, and Asfandyar  raised an eyebrow playfully at his bride.

"Bhai aap log kab aye?" Yashfa questioned her brother and asfandyar, royally ignoring Azlaan who was just observing her.

" Mama ka phone aya tha, keh rhy thein ky jewelley shopping ky lie jana hai to isi Alayna ko pick karne aya hun." Asfandyar ruffled Yashfa's hair playfully while glancing at his Naina.

Hira, Samar, Qainat and Hazal had decided to go gold shopping for their pyari beti as it was of tradition in their house and wanted Alayna to join them , they had asked Asfandyar to get her from the boutique.

"Accha...pakka yahi baat hai na?" Yashfa teased her brother and in return got a little slap on the back of the head by Ayaan to which she playfully glared.

A giggle escaped Hooriya's mouth and a little blush crept up on Alayna's cheeks.

"Tum le ke jao Alayna ko Asfandyar, ham baki sbh ky paas jaty hain, lunch organize Kiya tha unhone." Ayaan told him about the plan the youngsters had made. In fact Sheharyar, Rafay, Faran and Zayyan were already waiting for them at the restaurant.

"Jee bhai" Asfandyar signalled towards his car and Alayna quickly hugged both the girls before hopping into the car.

Ayaan's eyes lingered on Hooriya for a moment longer than he intended, before his gaze flickered to the others. The tension between them remained palpable, but he was content to let it simmer.

Hooriya, still feeling the weight of Ayaan's presence, took a deep breath and turned her attention to Yashfa. "Chalo Yashfa, late ho Jain gy" she murmured, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. She was all too aware of how Ayaan was looking at her.

Azlaan's voice broke through the quiet tension as he looked at Yashfa, a hint of teasing in his tone, though it carried an underlying authority.

"Yashfa, tum mere saath aajao. I'll feel alone by myself, don't you think?" His voice was light, playful, but there was an unmistakable undertone of a command.

Yashfa's heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly what he meant. There was always a certain way Azlaan said things, a tone only she understood. It was the subtle power he wielded with ease—effortless yet undeniable. She had always been able to read him like an open book, even when he didn't want her to.

" Jao Yashfi main aur Hoorie tum dono ke pecchy pecchy hi aaty hain." Ayaan said not paying much attention to the tension between his sister and best friend.

Without a word, Yashfa walked over to Azlan's sleek car, a small but deliberate gesture of compliance. The moment she slid into the passenger seat, the door clicked shut behind her with a soft thud. Her gaze flickered to Azlaan, who sat in the driver's seat, his jawline defined under the soft afternoon light. He wasn't looking at her just yet, but she could feel the weight of his attention lingering in the air between them.

The car roared to life and in moments they  slid out of the property.

On the other hand Hooriya stood rooted in her place, her gaze fixed on her slippers.

A throat being cleared made her gulp and she slowly raised her eyes to meet the amused ones, that were already staring at her petite form.

Hooriya, already conscious of how Ayaan's presence seemed to fill any space they shared, hesitated for a moment, but then, with a soft exhale, she stepped into the passenger seat of his sleek black sports car.

The door shut softly behind her, and Ayaan, always in control, slid into the driver's seat with practiced ease. His hand rested on the steering wheel, the very picture of calm, though his mind was anything but. He caught a brief glance of Hooriya as she settled into her seat, her eyes lowered in the most demure, modest way, as though her gaze could never linger too long. The soft maroon of her kurta against the dark interior of the car only added to her quiet elegance, the black shawl draped over her body like a second skin, holding her in a protective cocoon.

It was, without a doubt, a breathtaking sight. But for Ayaan, it was more than her beauty—it was the way she carried herself with such grace, that pulled him in. He was still caught in that moment, still reflecting on how she made him feel when their gazes had met outside the boutique.

As the engine roared to life, he glanced over at her, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. "Chalain?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper against the hum of the car's engine.

Hooriya simply nodded, her hands folded delicately on her lap. Her gaze remained focused on the passing scenery, though the occasional glances she shot toward Ayaan spoke volumes.

"Tumny apne lie kuch nahi lia?" His hand had as always taken ahold of hers and was now rubbing her knuckles in a soothing manner.

"Nahi who api ky lie hi sirf lia aaj...I'll go another day." She murmured and gasped at the feeling of his lips on her hand.

He had done this multiple times now but it was as if her body reacted with the same shyness every time.

The rest of the drive to the restaurant was a quiet one. The sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, casting a soft golden hue over the streets, the colors reflecting off the polished glass of buildings and the sleek exteriors of luxury cars. The soft classical music from the radio played faintly in the background, its lilting notes almost adding to the tranquility between them.

Her hands clenched slightly in her lap, and she shifted in her seat, her shawl slipping just a little off her shoulder. Ayaan didn't miss the movement. His eyes flickered momentarily to the exposed skin of her neck, the delicate curve of it exposed in such an innocent way made his heart leap, but then quickly returned to the road ahead.

He was utterly fucked and in love.

He parked the car and looked at her expectedly. She started placing her shawl back on her head and wrapped it tightly around herself again.

She seemed to forget about her surroundings every time she was near this specimen and that worried her, he was always so in control.

Before they could could exit his big, warm hand clasped her wrist again and brought it to his mouth again. His movements were slow, deliberate.

Before she could retreat from the touch, she felt the warmth of his fingers softly curling around her hand, steady but careful. His touch was warm, comforting, but the way it seemed to ground her—anchoring her in the moment—only made her more aware of how his presence enveloped everything.He was savouring this.

Without a word, his thumb lightly traced the curve of her pulse, brushing against the soft skin of her inner wrist. His touch was slow, deliberate, and as his fingers gently pressed against the vein beneath her skin, the thudding of her heartbeat seemed to grow louder—so loud, in fact, that he could almost hear it. The rhythmic beat echoed in his ears, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade.

He couldn't help the small, almost imperceptible smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, just slightly, his breath warm against the space between them. He felt her pulse quicken even more, the beat now thunderous in his ears.

Slowly, almost reverently, he lowered his lips to her wrist, brushing the soft skin just beneath her pulse. It was a gentle, fleeting kiss—a soft pressure, a tender promise. And then, with a hint of teasing, he whispered just above her pulse.

"Tumhare dil ki dhadkan... kyun itny tez ho rahi hai?"

His lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary, before he pulled back, his eyes meeting hers.

Hooriya's face flushed a deep shade of pink. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling the heat of his kiss still lingering on her skin. The tension in the air felt almost unbearable, but there was something in Ayaan's eyes now—a quiet understanding that he hadn't anticipated. He wasn't just affecting her; he was affecting himself too.

The world outside was still and golden, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun, but the space between them felt alive with unspoken words.

Ayaan glanced at her, his expression neutral, but his eyes were softer now, less guarded. His voice was almost casual, but there was a knowing undertone to it.

"Ready?" he asked, his hand resting gently but protectively on her back as he opened the door for her.

he couldn't avoid the heat that rushed to her cheeks, the flush on her face betraying her calm facade. With a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she stepped out of the car and onto the polished stone walkway, her delicate shoes tapping against the ground with every movement.

Ayaan, always composed, never missed a beat. His hand lingered at the small of her back for a moment longer than necessary, guiding her forward but also ensuring the invisible space between them never grew too large. The moment his touch left her skin, it left a void, and she resisted the urge to turn around and ask him not to pull away just yet. But the impulse passed quickly, and she focused on the softly lit entrance of the restaurant ahead.

As they entered, Ayaan's eyes scanned the room, taking note of the group already seated at a large round table near the window. Sheharyar, Rafay, Faran, and Zayyan were already deep in conversation, laughing as they exchanged stories.

"A Gaye aap dono!" Faran exclaimed excitedly.

"Yashfa aur Azlaan nai pohonchy?" Ayaan questioned when he saw them missing among the guys.

"Hamy laga woh apky sath hi hon gy." Zayyan answered but as soon as the words left his mouth they saw both of them making their way towards the table.

"Sorry wo traffic ki wajha se ruky huwe thy." Azlaan cleared as they reached.

Ayaan nodded and pulled a chair back to make room for Hooriya to sit and she did, Azlaan did the same and tucked both the girls towards the side of the table that was most hidden, leading them them to sit side by side.

while Ayaan and Azlan sat each next to their own lady.

"Tumhare gaal kyun itny laal hain yaffu." Hooriya questioned worriedly as she saw the color on her sister's face.

Yashfa immediately touched her warm cheeks and gulped slightly.

"Pata nahi...ho jaty hain Abhi theek." She said and Hooriya reclutantly nodded.

"Accha sbh apni apni choice decide karo phir ek hi baar main order karty hain." Rafay suggested and everyone started looking at the menu.

Ayaan picked the thin paper  containing  the various mouthwatering dishes and held it in front of his Hoorie, who bit her lip in thought.

"Kya khana pasand kare gy meri jaan." He murmurred lowly and she, as always, lowered her eyes at the endearment.

"S-soch rhy hun." She responded and he nodded amusingly.

The boys were too busy bickering over the cricket match that has taken place the day before and did not notice the scenes unfolding right in front of them.

Hooriya turned her head slightly to ask Yashfa what she had wanted to eat but what she saw had her eyes widening in shock.

she checked a few time to make sure that the hand laying lazily, but still with an obvious possessive grip, over Yashfa's thigh was actually there or it was just her mind playing tricks.

Her eyes bounced then to her best friend's face and she could she crimson taking over on her cheeks again.

how she bit her inner cheek, and how her own hand was desperately trying to move the much bigger one away.

Hooriya's shock dissipated a little when she felt big fingers enfold her much smaller one in a protective, tender hold.

"Kar liya decide?" Ayaan's voice questioned and she shook her head.

"I'll order for you, hmm?" She glanced up and nodded with a shy smile that made his mouth run dry with content.

But he could sense that something had changed in her demeanour.

"kya hua? Theek ho?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Hooriya nodded again, but this time there was a softness in her eyes that hadn't been there before, something that spoke of vulnerability and trust. She wasn't sure why, but Ayaan made her feel safe in a way no one else did. It was both comforting and terrifying, like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the wind to catch her and pull her down, but trusting that she wouldn't fall.

"Jee," she said, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her.

He had decided to let go of the matter at the moment and would question her later in the evening, when they would be alone.

"Main washroom se ho ky ayi." She said timidly and Ayaan nodded.

"Yashfa!" He called out with his usual rough voice.

At that Hooriya remembered how differently he addresses her , the total opposite .

Her heart swelled with happiness at the thought.

"J-jee bhai." Hooriya sensed the small tremble in yashfa's voice.

"Hooriya ky saath washroom jao." Ayaan said to which Yashfa nodded hurriedly, the thought of getting away for a while comforting her.

As the reached the ladies washroom, Yashfa opened the tap and splashed some cold water on her face.

Hooriya stood there, not knowing what to say or even if to say something in the first place.

"Yashfi...kya hua hai?" Hooriya gently questioned.

"Kuch nahi...kya hona tha." Yashfa giggled nervously. She knew her best friend had seen everything.

Hooriya took ahold of of her hands in hers and gently coaxed her.

"tum jaanty ho na ky i won't ever judge you." She started off.

"I-" Yashfa opened her mouth but then took a big gulp of air.

"Main tumhy batana chahty thi Hoor...lekin pata nahi himmat hi sari khatam ho jaty thy jbh tum aur Alayna api samne aty thy." She gulped.

"Kyun...esa kya hai jo tum itny nervous ho jaty ho." Hooriya furrowed her eyebrows.

What was the harm in telling them that she liked Azlaan.

They had always been the closest. Even when Alayna had started to like Asfandyar they were the first ones to know.

there had never been any judgment or any type of conflict between them, so Hooriya couldn't put her finger on what was actually going on in Yashfa's mind.

"M-main Azlaan ky nikkah main hun Hoor."

The sudden revelation hung in the air like a heavy fog, and for a split second, Hooriya didn't know how to respond. Her mind struggled to process the words. Azlaan bhai... ky nikkah?

She blinked, her pulse racing as she tried to make sense of what Yashfa had just said. It didn't seem real, like a sentence in a dream that didn't quite belong in the waking world.

"kya?" Hooriya asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly would break the fragile moment between them.

Yashfa's face flushed, her hands trembling in Hooriya's, and she looked down, avoiding her gaze. She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, the weight of her words seemingly pulling her down.

"It's complicated, boht ajeeb circumstances main sbh hua. He didn't want it but it happened anyway."

Hooriya's chest tightened, a storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. Yashfa and Azlaan? They were like family. She had never even considered the possibility, but now, looking at Yashfa's wide eyes and nervous fidgeting, everything clicked into place. The way Azlaan had been looking at Yashfa earlier, the way he'd been so protective—there was something there, something she hadn't noticed before.

Her grip tightened around Yashfa's hands, trying to offer comfort, but her heart ached in ways she couldn't explain.

she could  clearly see hurt on yashfa's face.

"Main ghar sbn batati hun...promise."  Yashfa tried to give a small smile but Hooriya could see through the facade.

Hooriya engulfed Yashfa in her arms, making sure that she knew that she was there for her no matter what happened.

With one last reassuring squeeze of her hand, Hooriya led Yashfa out of the washroom, back toward their waiting group. As they approached the table, she noticed Ayaan's eyes flicker to her briefly before returning to the conversation at hand. She could feel his attention, his protective nature, even without him saying a word.

But for now, she pushed aside the questions building inside her heart and focused on Yashfa. This moment, this unspoken connection between the two of them, was enough. For now, that was all that mattered.

____________

Aoa!

I hope all of you are doing well & I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.

I've been so busy with med school is lie update karne ka time hi nahi tha mil raha. *CRIES*

Also let me know if you guys like long chapters like this or should I just write shorter ones.

Next chapter main pakka more romantic scenes hon gy!

Let me know how the chapter was <3

xoxo

- Laiba