I walked into the house, practically dragging myself into the house, feeling the weight of the entire day pulling me down. Work at the shop had been nonstop, and on top of that, the meeting with Adnan and Ibrahim had my brain running in circles.

The meeting went better than I expected. We talked about the gym-figuring out the name, location, budget, and the whole deal. Ibrahim did a solid job with the presentation, which was a surprise. I'm impressed. Usually, he's a bit of a slacker, but today? Nah, he showed up ready.

Adnan, on the other hand, well, he's always been a fitness freak. He's obsessed with working out and staying in shape. It's no wonder this gym idea was his. And the way he talked about getting people involved and promoting it on social media with his little brother helping out, I couldn't help but be impressed. I've got to hand it to him; the guy knows how to sell an idea.

Plus, it's not just about building muscle or looking good for someone else. We want people to focus on themselves. Self-love and self-care. It's very important. And, that's what we want people to get out of it. Get healthy because they want to feel better, not because they're trying to fit someone else's expectations.

Eat healthy, stay healthy, live healthy.

That's gonna be our gym's motto. I'm sold. I'm ready to throw my money into this project because I know it's going to work. I can feel it.

I kicked off my shoes by the door, the cool floor tiles giving me a little relief as I padded into the kitchen. I grabbed a glass of water and gulped it down, the cold liquid refreshing but doing nothing for the exhaustion that was sitting heavy in my bones. All I could think about was getting into the shower, washing away the day, and slipping into something comfortable.

My body was screaming for it.

But as I was about to head to my room, when I heard my mom call out, her voice floating in from the living room. "Freshen up and wear something nice."

The word "nice" instantly threw me back to that day when Aunt Sifat told Naaz the same thing. That day when our parents were supposed to talk about our pre-planned wedding. The promise her father made to my father. I still remember how nervous Naaz was back then.

Later, I couldn't stop myself from teasing her about the whole 'wear something nice' bit. Of course, I received some punches on my shoulder and arms for it. She easily gets angry.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, my mind immediately going to Naaz.

"Nothing." She denied it quickly, way too quickly. "Just wear something nice. Some guests are coming for dinner."

"Who's coming?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but my heart had already picked up the pace. My mind immediately jumped to Naaz and her family. Were they coming? Was this about that marriage talk again?

"Just go and do what I say," she said, her tone shutting down any further questions as she hurried back to the kitchen.

I stared after her for a moment, trying to make sense of it all, but eventually shrugged it off. No point in arguing with Mom when she's in one of these moods.

I headed to my room and locked the door behind me. I grabbed some clothes and a towel from the cupboard and kept my clothes on your bed before heading into the bathroom.

As soon as the hot water hit my skin, my muscles began to relax. I stood under the spray for a while, letting the steam fill the room, and my mind, of course, drifted to Naaz.

The way I sneak over to her house every day, climbing up that damn pipe just to see her, it's like I'm living in some fictional world. Like something out of a Shakespeare play. Romeo and Juliet, meeting my girl on her balcony. It's ridiculous, but at the same time, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Then, out of nowhere, my thoughts drifted to Zahir. The guy's been acting strange lately. For the past week, every night, he's been there. It's the same place, at the same time, smoking and watching me as I climb up to Naaz's balcony.

It's like he waits for me.

At first, I thought he was just being a jerk, trying to intimidate me, but he didn't say anything. He just watches. Sometimes, he'll even talk to me-like, normal conversation. Teasing, maybe a little taunting, but nothing compared to how he used to be.

It's weird.

I sometimes feel like, he's trying to make sure I'm okay, almost like he's waiting for me every night, watching me climb to Naaz's balcony, and only leaves once he's sure I'm safe.

I didn't know what to make of it. It was like we were stuck in this strange routine. It's weird to admit, but I think Zahir is trying to change. Naaz mentioned to me how he's been nicer to her lately. It's a good thing. If Zahir is trying to turn over a new leaf, I've got no problem with that. Maybe one day we'll even be friends.

Who knows the future?

But still, I can't shake off the memories of how cruel he was when we were kids. He was freaking ten, just like me. How can a kid of that age talk like that? I sometimes wonder. Maybe, it's because of his mother? She died when he was young. Around eight or something? It must be some mental trauma he went through.

But, the things he said about my father-calling him a ghost, a dead man-when he was fighting cancer. Plus, the way he acted later when we grew up. God! The hatred that stirred in me back then hasn't fully left, no matter how much I try to forget it.

I scrubbed the soap off my skin and rinsed out the shampoo, shaking the water from my hair before grabbing the towel. Wrapping it around my waist, I stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing my wet hair with a towel.

My muscles felt more relaxed after the hot shower, but my mind was still running a mile a minute. Something about today felt off. The way my mom was acting, the whole 'dress nice' thing-there was something she wasn't telling me.

Quickly, I dressed up in some casual but decent clothes and walked out of my room, still trying to make sense of it. Who was coming for dinner, and why the secrecy? I called my mom, but there was no response. I peeked into the kitchen, but she wasn't there.

Where did she go?

Curiosity gnawed at me as I made my way toward her bedroom. But just as I was about to knock, the doorbell rang. My footsteps halted.

Must be the guests.

I turned around and walked back to the door, feeling a strange mix of confusion and anticipation. As I opened the door, my heart sank to my stomach.

Standing there, all decked up in fancy clothes, were Mariyam, her parents, and her brother Imran. Her father was holding some packets of sweets in his hand, smiling like this was some joyous occasion.

I stared at them for a moment, trying to mask my surprise, but inside, I was reeling.

Why were they here?

I quickly gathered myself. "Assalamualaikum, Uncle," I greeted, stepping aside to let them in.

"Wa' laikum assalam, Siddique," Uncle Karim smiled warmly as he walked inside, followed by the rest of his family. "We brought some sweets for you and your family."

I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around their sudden visit.

Why were they here? This didn't make sense.

Anyway, I guided them toward the living room, every step filled with confusion.

What on earth was going on? My thoughts spiralled. Why were they here? Did my mom invite them for something specific? Is Naaz and her family coming?

Please tell me Naaz is coming too...

I couldn't help but glance over at Mariyam as we all sat down. She was blushing, her eyes flickering toward me nervously, but there was something else too-something that made me uneasy. Her parents, on the other hand, looked relaxed, almost too comfortable, smiling awkwardly at me from across the room.

I tried to offer them a polite smile back, but my mind was in turmoil. Silence fell over the room, thick and uncomfortable.

After a while, I finally spoke up, trying to cut through the tension. "How's everyone doing?" I asked.

"Good, Alhamdulillah," they all replied in unison, and then... silence again.

Thankfully, my mom emerged from her room, dressed in a soft pink outfit. She looked elegant as always, and she took a seat beside me, immediately starting a conversation with Mariyam's parents. The usual small talk-how's work, how's everything going-was exchanged, and I just sat there, restless.

Mom even complimented Mariyam, telling her she looked beautiful tonight. Mariyam blushed, her eyes flickering toward me again, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I knew what she was thinking, and I was starting to piece together why they were here.

Their conversation continued, but all I could feel was restlessness. Mariyam's gaze was fixed on me, and it was making me uncomfortable. She wasn't even trying to hide it. How could she sit there, openly staring at me like this, in front of our parents?

Shameless girl.

My mind kept going back to the past. The slap. The humiliation. Mariyam and her mother had always looked down on Naaz. I still remember how Mariyam had been disrespectful to her, even when she was two years younger than Naaz. That slap from her mother still echoed in my mind, and I hadn't forgotten or forgiven them for it.

They weren't just here for dinner. No, they were here for something else. My eyes narrowed slightly as I tried to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I was fuming.

Out of nowhere, Mariyam's mother shifted the conversation onto me.

"You know," she said, glancing at me, "Siddique is such a good boy. He's hardworking, respectful, and well-liked in the community."

I felt a knot in my stomach. Where was this conversation heading?

"Yes," Uncle Karim agreed, looking directly at me. "You've done so well with the shop, and now, with this new gym venture... we couldn't be more proud of you."

I've no idea where he got to know about the gym. I didn't share it with anyone else but Uncle Kabir and Uncle Rahman. I'm sure Uncle Rahman won't meet him and talk about my business, then it must be Uncle Kabir. But, why does he have to talk about my business to his brother? I didn't understand this?

I nodded politely, unsure how to respond.

Then, Mariyam's mother chimed in again, her voice full of meaning. "Mariyam has always admired you, Siddique. She told us how much she respects your dedication and kindness."

I could feel my pulse quicken, and I suddenly realized where this conversation was going. This wasn't just some casual dinner. This was about me and Mariyam. They were here to talk about our alliance.

I looked at Mariyam, my eyes burning with anger. How could she do this? She knew I didn't feel that way about her, yet here she was, sitting with her parents, pushing for this alliance. I could see the fear in her eyes as she met my gaze, but there was no guilt. That made my blood boil even more. She had to be the one behind this. She knew Naaz had rejected the idea of marriage months ago, so maybe she thought she could win this way.

"Mariyam and Siddique would make a lovely couple," her mother continued, her eyes sparkling with hope. "We've been thinking... maybe it's time to talk about an alliance."

I could feel the blood draining from my face. Naaz. What if Naaz found out about this? She'd be devastated. She already hates that I've kept our relationship a secret. If she knew about this... about Mariyam and her family coming to discuss marriage... she'd be heartbroken.

No, I wouldn't let this happen. I would never marry Mariyam. I didn't love her. I didn't even like her that way. She was more like a sister to me. I had told her that very clearly before-that I loved Naaz and that I'd wait for her, no matter how long it took.

"Yes," my Mom agreed.

What the heck!

I looked at my mom, fury building up inside me. She knew about this? She invited them here for this? After everything that happened with Naaz, after all the pain and confusion, and now this?

I glanced at Mariyam, and she was blushing even more, her gaze lowering shyly as her parents beamed with pride.

My thoughts were spiralling. How could she even think about this? She knew how I felt about Naaz.

Uncle Karim's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, "So, what do you think about this alliance, Siddique?"

"It's a-" But before I could finish, when suddenly, a loud banging on the door interrupted me, followed by a sobbing voice calling out my name.

"Siddique!"

Naaz.

My heart dropped.

What the hell was she doing here? Had she found out about Mariyam and her family being here?

Oh God, no.

"Siddique, open the door, please." Her voice was desperate, trembling with sobs.

Without thinking, I shot up from my seat, my mother closed behind me, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered in that moment except getting to Naaz.

"Siddique!" Her cries grew louder, more frantic, as she pounded on the door.

I flung it open to find her standing there, tears streaming down her face, her eyes swollen and red, her hands trembling as she reached for me. I didn't think. I just pulled her into my arms, holding her tight.

"Siddique," she sobbed again, her voice cracking with pain.

"Naaz, what happened?" I whispered, feeling her body shake against mine.

"What's going on?" I ignored the question of my mother.

My focus was entirely on Naaz. She was breaking down, her body trembling with every sob, and it tore me apart to see her like this.

"What happened, baby?" I asked softly, my hands gently rubbing her back as she cried into my chest.

"Siddique," she whimpered, her voice barely audible, "I overheard Dad talking with Mom. He said they'll come here to discuss your marriage with Mariyam."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She knew. She had found out about the proposal.

This was my worst nightmare coming true.

"Baby," I whispered, guilt and panic flooding my voice, "I won't let it happen. You trust me, right?"

She nodded against my chest, but her grip on me tightened, like she was afraid to let go. "Please, ask them to leave. I don't want them here. I don't want her near you." she pleaded.

"Okay." I promised, brushing the hair from her tear-stained face. "But first, stop crying. Go to my room and wait for me, by then I'll handle it here. Alright?"

"No," she shook her head stubbornly. "I'll stay here. Just ask them to leave."

"Naaz, I need to talk to them," I said softly. "Please, go to my room and wait for me. I'll come, and we'll talk. I promise."

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied, her voice firm despite her tears. "I just want to be with you."

God, she's afraid to lose me.

Before I could respond, Mariyam's mother spoke up, her tone dripping with venom, "Naaz, stop acting like a brat. And for your information, Siddique will be your brother-in-law soon, so stay within your limits. Move away."

That was the final straw, as Naaz tried to pull herself away assuming I had already agreed for it. But, I pulled her back and held closer without any shame.

"Naaz, I said, move away."

"Shut up," I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. "You have no right to speak to my Naaz like that. I don't like your daughter. She knows that. I've told her she's like a sister to me. She knows I love Naaz. Yet, she did this."

I could see the shock on their faces, and Mariyam looked like she was about to cry, but I didn't care. Not even my mother, who was standing between Naaz and me.

"Get out," I said, my patience gone.

"Siddique! Watch your tone!" my mother warned, clearly disapproving of my outburst. But I didn't care. She had arranged all of this behind my back. I wasn't going to stand for it.

"Mom, you knew I loved Naaz," I said, my voice heavy with betrayal. "You knew I only wanted her. So, why did you agree to this?"

She looked guilty but remained silent.

"You invited them here, fully expecting me to go along with this? How could you do this to me?" I demanded, holding Naaz closer as her quiet sobs continued.

"Naaz refused to marry you," Uncle Karim finally spoke, his tone calm but condescending.

"That doesn't mean I'll marry anyone. I'm not getting desperate for marriage." I replied, my voice bitter and sharp.

Mariyam began to cry, and for a moment, I felt a pang of guilt. I hadn't meant to insult her, but I couldn't change how I felt.

"Siddique," Uncle Karim said angrily, "watch your language when you're speaking about my daughter. I won't tolerate any kind of insult to her."

"I'm sorry," I replied, keeping my tone steady. "That wasn't my intention. Mariyam is a good girl. But she's not the one I love. The one I love is Naaz. It has always been Naaz, and it will never be anyone else. Never."

Silence.

"Now excuse me, I need to console my crying girlfriend." I could see the shock written on their faces, but I refused to acknowledge.

"Let's go, Zawjati."

Another shock.

Take that.

I turned and gently led Naaz to my room. I needed to calm her down, to reassure her that I would fix everything. No matter what it took, I would never let anyone come between us.

••

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