Third person's POV.

Zeeniya sat on the bed, holding a photo frame, her eyes fixed on the picture within. Her brows were furrowed with worry.

Jahan noticed her expression and asked softly, “Zeeniya, why are you so worried?”

She didn’t look at him. “You’re asking why I’m worried? I’m worried for him,” she said, her eyes still fixed on the image.

Jahan smiled gently and took a seat beside his beloved wife. He reached out and took the frame from her hands, gazing at the photo.

“I’m so proud of him,” he murmured, caressing the picture with tenderness. Then he turned to her with warmth in his eyes. “And I’m thankful to you for giving me such a great son.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, making her cheeks flush with color.

Even after all these years, he still had the power to make her shy like a young bride. And he lived for it.

“Don’t change the topic,” Zeeniya said, narrowing her eyes at him as he chuckled.

“It’s all your fault,” she continued, her voice laced with frustration. “You never stopped him from taking such a deep interest in business. And now we’ve lost our son. Have you seen him at dinner? Or breakfast? We’re losing him, Jahan.”

Her eyes glistened as they moved back to the photo of Aarham.

“I know,” Jahan said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head gently against him.

“I don’t want him to drift away—from life, from us,” she whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I won’t let that happen. I promise. I’ll bring him back—back to life, away from files and laptops. He needs to know what it truly means to live. I promise you, Zeeniya, I’ll bring your son back.”

Her eyes welled up with tears. “Really? Oh Jahan… thank you. I love you.”

She hugged him tightly and he pulled her into his arms.

“I love you too, my love,” he whispered.

Just then, the door creaked open. “Mom—oops!” Sameer stood frozen at the doorway, startled by the sight of his parents hugging.

He immediately turned around. Jahan and Zeeniya parted, embarrassed but laughing.

“You should knock before entering, my son,” Jahan said, amused.

Sameer turned back with a grin. “Yeah, right, Dad. For that, you’ll need to start closing the door.”

Jahan chuckled, and Zeeniya blushed deeper.

“Oye! Stop making my wife shy. That’s my job,” Jahan said with mock seriousness, earning a glare from Zeeniya.

“What, wifey? He’s disturbing our romance,” Jahan teased, and she gave him a playful smack on the chest, making him laugh.

“Okay, Sameer. I have a task for you,” Jahan said, turning serious.

“Yes, Dad?” Sameer asked.

“Call a family meeting before dinner. Aarham will be late tonight, so it’s the perfect time.”

Sameer frowned in confusion. “But Dad, Aarham bhai won’t attend?”

“He doesn’t need to,” Jahan replied. “And make sure no one tells him about it.”

Sameer nodded and left the room.

Zeeniya looked at her husband with curious eyes. “What are you planning, Jahan?”

He cupped her face gently. “I’m bringing back your son,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead.

It had been twenty-seven years, and yet their love had only grown stronger. Even now, he could make her blush like a newlywed, and that—he cherished deeply.

“Aarham needs to understand what it means to truly live,” Jahan said quietly.

And Zeeniya nodded, hope lighting her eyes.

---‐-------

At his office.

The soft glow of the office lamp cast long shadows across the mahogany desk piled high with files and reports. Aarham’s eyes were fixed on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard as he flipped through one meeting note after another. The city outside sparkled in the night—restless and alive—just like his mind.

His phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen. Mom calling.

He sighed, then picked up the call, trying to sound casual.
“Hello, Mom.”

“Aarham…” her voice was gentle but laced with quiet concern. “It’s already past 10, son. You promised me you’d come early today.”

His fingers froze on the keyboard. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment.
“I know, Mom. I just lost track of time… there’s so much to wrap up before tomorrow.”

There was a pause on the other end. A silence so soft, it echoed louder than words.

“I waited for you,” she said after a beat. “I made your favorite food. You haven’t eaten since morning… Have you, Aarham?”

His throat tightened. The clock on the wall mocked him. She had waited—for hours.

“No,” he whispered, guilt creeping in. “I didn’t get time.”

“You work so hard, son. But sometimes I wonder… who takes care of you?” Her voice cracked ever so slightly. “Come home, Aarham. I just want to sit beside you while you eat.”

He shut the laptop slowly. Her words weren’t a complaint—they were a quiet plea from a mother who only had one son, and far too many silent dinners.

“I’m on my way,” he said softly.

---

By the time he stepped through the grand entrance of their villa, the scent of freshly cooked food greeted him like an old friend. The soft clinking of plates came from the dining room.

He stopped in the doorway.

There she was—his mother—dressed in her simple home clothes, arranging the table with loving care. A bowl of creamy yogurt, spicy biryani, crispy chapati, colorful salad, and steaming kebabs. His favorite meal. On his favorite day.

She was doing it all alone… just for him.

A quiet smile curved on his lips. His heart clenched with a surge of love.

Silently, he walked forward. And before she could notice, he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She gasped slightly in surprise, then smiled as she felt his familiar warmth.

“Aarham,” she whispered, resting her hands on his.

He buried his face lightly into her shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, voice low.

“You came… that’s enough for me.” Her words were soft and full of love.

He stepped back, eyes glistening with emotion, and sat down at the table.

“Now let me see if the biryani still tastes the same,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes stayed on her as if memorizing every small gesture.

That night, dinner wasn’t just food—it was love served on a silver platter.

And for once, Aarham left work behind… and came home to something far more important.

The clink of cutlery and the soft hum of the dining room clock filled the warm silence. Aarham sat at the table, savoring every bite of the meal in front of him.

“Mmm… this biryani tastes like heaven,” he mumbled with a content sigh, taking another spoonful. “You really outdid yourself, Mom.”

Zeeniya watched him with a smile that reached her eyes. “It’s your favorite. I just wanted to see you eat with peace for once.”

He looked up, a faint softness in his gaze. “I didn’t realize how much I missed this. Missed… you.”

She gently placed a glass of water beside him and sat down across from him.

“Aarham,” she began slowly, folding her hands in her lap, “I want to talk to you about something.”

He glanced at her between bites and nodded. “I’m listening, Mom.”

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting for a moment before stilling. “I want to see my son get married.”

“So, Shazam is ready then?” Aarham asked casually, not looking up from his plate.

Zeeniya blinked, confused. “Shazam?” she echoed, puzzled.

“Yes, Mom. You said you want your son to get married. So I’m asking—has Shazam agreed to it?”

Now she narrowed her eyes at him, catching on to his teasing tone. “What?”

“I mean, if Sameer is ready for marriage, I have no problem. Let’s go ahead,” he said calmly, resuming his dinner with complete focus.

He hadn’t eaten all day—meetings, presentations, back-to-back calls. And now, seeing all his favorite dishes spread across the table, his appetite had roared to life. Every bite felt like a reward.

Zeeniya leaned forward, her voice a little firmer now. “My elder son’s name is Aarham. And he’s the one I want to get married.”

This time, Aarham didn’t respond. He just kept eating, calm and quiet.

“Aarham, I said something.” Her tone was gentle but expectant.

He finally looked up, smiling at her. “What do you want, Mom?”

“I want my son back,” she said, her eyes softening. “The son who lost himself behind work and deadlines. I want you to get married.”

He reached out and held her hand.

“And you think by doing this… I’ll forget my passion for work?” he asked gently, eyes searching hers.

“I just want balance in your life,” she replied with a hopeful smile. “And yes, I believe after marriage, maybe I’ll see my son at home on time.”

Aarham couldn’t help it—he burst into laughter. “You really want me to get married?”

Zeeniya nodded sincerely.

“This will make you happy?” he asked again, more seriously this time.

Her smile deepened. “Of course. I’ll be the happiest person in the world.”

He paused for a moment… then nodded.

“Okay.”

Then, without any drama or hesitation, he resumed eating his food.

Zeeniya stared at him, completely stunned.

He agreed?

“Aarham… are you serious?” she asked, almost breathless with disbelief.

He looked at her again and said with quiet warmth, “Of course, Mom. For you, I can do anything.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she kept smiling. “So… what kind of girl do you want?”

He set his spoon down and turned to her, eyes soft.

“Just like you. I want someone loving and caring… just like you.”

Zeeniya leaned over and kissed his forehead, heart full. “Done. I’ll find a girl for you who will make you fall for her.”

Aarham gave a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, Mom. You keep thinking about your future daughter-in-law. I’m going to bed.”

He stood and walked toward the stairs. But before he could disappear, Zeeniya called out with a playful smile, “And you, my son, start dreaming about your would-be wife!”

He turned, smirking. “You’re making me impatient, Mom.”

Zeeniya giggled, her heart light with joy, while he laughed at his own words and headed upstairs.

She began clearing the table with a huge smile on her face, her heart overflowing with happiness. She had expected a long battle to convince Aarham, but to her surprise—it had taken just one dinner and a mother’s gentle nudge.

As for Aarham… he walked to his luxurious room with a grin he couldn’t hide. For the first time in years, thoughts of work took a back seat. Instead, his mind drifted to the unknown—toward the woman who might one day walk beside him.

And somehow, that thought made him feel a little more alive.

---

Zeeniya began clearing the table, a radiant smile dancing on her lips. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years. Who would’ve thought it would be so easy to make Aarham agree to marriage?

As she finished tidying up, she walked towards her room, still smiling. Upon entering, she found her beloved husband waiting for her.

“Where were you?” Jahan asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

She caught his reflection in the mirror and leaned back against him, resting her weight in his embrace.

“I love you,” Zeeniya said softly, surprising him.

Jahan blinked, then chuckled. “Not bad, Mrs. Jahan. Your confession still makes me feel like a young man who has a hopelessly loving wife.”

He kissed her cheek gently, and she blushed, turning to face him. His arms stayed wrapped around her waist, holding her close. She looped her arms around his neck, her eyes glowing.

“Aarham agreed,” she said, her voice trembling with joy.

Jahan’s eyes widened. “What?!”

She giggled and quickly placed a hand over his mouth. “Shhh… not so loud!”

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully as she slowly removed her hand, her smile growing even wider.

“Aarham is ready for marriage, Jahan. I’m so happy,” she said, tears of joy brimming in her eyes.

Jahan smirked, and her heart skipped a beat. The way he looked at her still made her cheeks burn.

“I gave you the idea, didn’t I? So what do I get for it?” he teased, pulling her even closer.

Her gaze dropped shyly, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest. Even after 27 years of marriage, his touch still made butterflies flutter in her stomach. Their love hadn’t aged a day.

He kissed her forehead tenderly, then moved to her cheek. She blushed deeper and suddenly hugged him tightly.

“I love seeing those colors on your face,” he whispered against her ear.

She smiled in his arms, her voice soft and emotional. “Jahan…”

“Hmmm?” he hummed, eyes closed, savoring the moment.

“I’m just so happy that our son agreed to get married,” she said, and he could feel the truth of it in her voice.

“Me too,” Jahan replied sincerely.

They slowly pulled apart, meeting each other’s eyes.

“But what about the girl?” she asked, her tone thoughtful now. “We have to find someone truly special for him.”

He nodded, a gentle seriousness in his expression.

“Yes. A girl who can win his heart the way you won mine.”

Zeeniya’s heart swelled with love as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“So… the bride hunt begins?” she asked, excitement twinkling in her voice.

Jahan grinned and nodded. “Yes. From tomorrow, we begin the search for Aarham’s bride.”

They both smiled, standing hand in hand—two hearts, full of love, ready to find someone who would complete their son’s world.

*********

That night, after his mother had gone to sleep and the mansion hushed into stillness, Aarham retreated to his private suite on the top floor.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the sprawling city skyline, glittering beneath a velvet night. The soft hum of the climate control system blended with the occasional whisper of wind against the glass. His room was a modern sanctuary—clean lines, warm wood, soft lighting. A custom-made Italian leather chaise stood near the window, beside a sleek black marble coffee table. Abstract art adorned the walls, and a glass shelf displayed rare collectibles and a few framed family photos—one of his parents on their wedding day, another of his siblings laughing by the pool.

He loosened his tie, poured himself a glass of water from the crystal decanter on his nightstand, and walked barefoot across the heated oakwood floor.

Everything around him was expensive. Impeccable.

And yet... strangely hollow.

He paused near the window, one hand resting against the cool glass as he stared out into the city that had crowned him its prince. Success had given him everything—yet tonight, it all felt too silent.

His mother’s voice echoed gently in his mind.

"You’ve conquered the world, Aarham... but who do you come home to?"

For the first time, he let the question linger. He allowed his mind to wander—to a life beyond deals and deadlines.

He pictured coming home after a long day to someone waiting here. A soft glow from the lamp, the scent of dinner in the air, a woman curled on the sofa, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

A partner.

A friend.

Not someone impressed by his wealth, but someone who understood the man behind it. Who saw through the designer suits and high-rise empire to the boy who still missed his father's quiet strength, who still craved peace in the noise.

He imagined her slipping her hand into his. Praying beside him. Laughing at his rare jokes. Fighting with him and making up just as fiercely. Sitting here on this very chaise, legs tucked under her, teasing him with a half-smile.

Aarham blinked and looked away, surprised at the ache curling in his chest.

He wasn’t a man who dreamed.

And yet tonight, in the silence of his billion-dollar fortress, he found himself longing for a simple thing—a heartbeat next to his own.

Maybe marriage wasn’t a chain.

Maybe... just maybe, it was the only thing money couldn’t buy—but the one thing he truly needed.

A faint, almost boyish smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

He leaned back against the windowpane, eyes on the stars, a quiet thought blooming in his heart—

“Uff, Mom… what have you put in my mind?” he mumbled, shaking his head slightly as a smile curved gently on his lips.

But he didn’t stop thinking.

Instead, his mind wandered deeper—into the warmth of shared moments, into the softness of a hand that fit perfectly in his, the sound of laughter that echoed through these silent walls, the scent of her perfume lingering on his shirt after a long embrace.

He imagined walking into the room after a long, grueling day at work—and finding her there, dressed in soft pastels, barefoot, waiting with a cup of tea and a warm, knowing gaze that said “You’re not alone anymore.”

His gaze shifted to the plush bed behind him. For years, it had been his alone. Pristine. Unshared.

Now, he could picture someone curled up under the soft grey covers, a novel in her hand, asking him why he was late again and then forgiving him with a touch to his cheek.

He chuckled softly to himself.

“What’s happening to me…” he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair.

His world had been predictable—meetings, boardrooms, numbers. But tonight, his heart had scribbled something unexpected across the pages of his future.

Something beautifully chaotic.

And instead of fear… he felt peace.

He pushed away from the window, turned off the lights, and slipped under the covers—still smiling.

For the first time in a long while, the billionaire slept not with a weight on his chest… but with a hopeful flutter in his heart.

---------

The ceiling fan hummed softly above, stirring the warm night air inside the small but tidy room. A faint yellow lamp cast its gentle glow over the table where Mehak sat, her head bent over a stack of notebooks. Her fingers moved steadily, pen gliding across pages filled with uneven handwriting. She paused occasionally to glance at the answer key she had scribbled on the side.

Across the room, her younger sister lay curled up on the single bed, fast asleep—her breaths deep and even. A soft cotton dupatta was loosely draped over her, and one arm hung off the bed in a childlike sprawl.

Mehak’s own eyes were heavy with fatigue, but her mind was still alert. She had just returned from the school a few hours ago, helped her mother in the kitchen, and now sat fulfilling the rest of her duty—checking the papers of the third-grade students who adored her.

She glanced at the wall clock. Almost midnight.

“So late again…” she murmured to herself with a sigh, stretching her stiff shoulders. Her father had returned early tonight, and the family had eaten together—a rare comfort. But Mehak had stayed back at the table after everyone had gone to bed, finishing lesson plans and marking the last test papers.

She glanced toward her sister, her face softening. She loved her dearly—this house, these people, this life—even if it was wrapped in simplicity and struggle.

Suddenly, a breeze rustled the curtain. Mehak paused, looked up at the sky through the window, and for a moment, allowed herself to dream.

Dream of a home with fewer worries, of someone who would come into her life and say, “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

But the dream passed quickly, as always. She picked up her pen again.

Still, a soft smile lingered on her lips as she returned to her work—because even in simplicity, there was dignity. And even in silence, there was hope.
--------

A/N:: Assalam-o-Alikum readers.

How are you all??

So how was the prologue??

I hope you like the very first chapter of the book.and hope you guys are looking forward to the story.

Do comment and vote.

I really want my all readers to comment to at least tell me their views. I'm desperately waiting for your comments.

Do vote readers.

Thanks for reading.

Till next update Allah Hafiz.

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