PAST
Zain's POV (Third Person)

“What’s happening?” Zain muttered to himself, placing the bag back on the table. He sat on its edge and rested his hand over his chest—over his heart.

There was something… something strange stirring inside him ever since his father, Mr. Ahmad, had announced they were moving to Pakistan. He couldn’t understand what was happening. Why was his heart reacting this way? At times, it would beat too fast, and at other times, it tingled—as though something unknown was awakening within him.

“Zain, is your packing done?”

He was lost in thought, trying to make sense of these odd feelings, when his mother entered the room and asked.

“Ah, almost, Mom. I’m just… thinking about something,” he replied, getting up and resuming the packing he had left unfinished.

“What’s my son thinking about?” Mrs. Ahmad asked, coming closer with a gentle smile.

“Nothing special. Mom, are you feeling strange?” Zain asked, his voice a little unsure. He wanted to know—was it just him feeling this way, or was everyone sensing something unusual?

His mother looked at him, confused. “What do you mean, strange?”

“Like… about going to Pakistan. I mean, aren’t you feeling something odd?” he said, his restlessness leaking into his tone.

What are these feelings? Ya Allah… he thought, taking a deep breath, hoping his mother would understand.

“You didn’t answer, Mom. Aren’t you feeling anything unusual? Something different in your heart?” he asked again, now standing in front of her while she helped pack his luggage.

“Yes, I’m feeling something—and it’s happiness, my son,” she replied with a warm smile, setting his bags aside.

“No, I mean this… strange feeling. I…” He stuttered, struggling to name the emotions swirling in his chest.

“What are you feeling, Zain? Are you okay?” his mother asked, concern growing in her eyes.

“Yes, Mom, I’m perfectly fine. It’s just… these weird feelings rising in my heart at the thought of going to Pakistan. Maybe I’m just getting overexcited,” he said with a light smile, trying to reassure both her and himself.

His mother smiled. “Don’t think too much, Zain. You’re going to love the country. I know you’re excited to meet your Chachu and his family—and that’s a good thing,” she said, gently patting his shoulder.

Zain nodded, though he was still trying to make sense of what he was feeling.

“Now hurry up and finish your packing. Then help your brothers with theirs. I wonder what those boys will do without my help—especially that Hassan,” she added with a playful shake of her head as she stepped out of the room.

Zain smiled at the closed door, then looked around at the packed bags, books, and scattered belongings.

“I’m really going to miss my room,” he whispered, sitting back on the edge of the table.

His eyes roamed from the familiar walls to the side window, then to his study table. Everything around him was pulling him back—as if his room didn’t want to let him go. He had never stayed anywhere else. This room was his world. And now, he was leaving it—maybe for good.

The smell, the memories, the air—everything begged him to stay. But there was something stronger… something pulling him toward Pakistan. A strange feeling he couldn’t define. Something was waiting for him there.

For now, he chose to let that strange feeling tease him a little longer. With a final glance at his room, he stepped out to help his brothers pack.

Zoya's POV
Third Person

Desperately waiting for the guests from London, Zoya was overwhelmed by strange emotions she couldn’t understand. Ever since she heard that her Chachu (uncle) and his family were coming, something had started stirring inside her. There were tingles in her tummy and heart, goosebumps on her skin—each second passed with growing restlessness.

“Girls, just two days left. I want you both to check if anything is missing. Everything should be perfect. I don’t want our guests to face any trouble,” Mrs. Salman instructed her daughters firmly.

“Yes, Mom. As you said, I’ve already checked the upper portion where Chachu’s family will stay. It’s clean and ready,” Ruhi replied. Zoya glanced at her younger sister, always more efficient and sharper than her.

“Zoya, did you arrange clothes for Dadu?” Mrs. Salman asked while chopping vegetables.

“Actually, I was just going to her room to iron her dress,” Zoya replied. Her mother nodded.

“After that, come help me in the kitchen,” her mother added. Zoya gave a nod and walked toward her Dadu’s room.

“Assalam-u-Alaikum, Dadu,” she greeted softly as she opened the door.

“Wa Alaikum Assalam, come in,” her grandmother replied, gently placing the Holy Quran on the side table.

Zoya sat beside her on the bed, took her hand in hers, and smiled at her.

“Are you happy, Dadu? Finally, your son is coming home,” she asked, watching her grandmother’s serene, glowing face.

“I am. I’m very, very happy. My eyes can’t wait to see him again. But this time… it's passing so slowly,” she replied, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, though her lips carried a joyful smile.

“Don’t worry. Just two more days. They’ll fly by like this—” Zoya snapped her fingers, making her Dadu chuckle.

“I’m here to pick out your clothes. You should look beautiful when your son and his family arrive,” she said, heading to the wardrobe.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m his mother—he knows me well. Outer appearances mean nothing,” her grandmother replied. Zoya smiled but still pulled out a lovely new shawl and a neatly pressed outfit to hang in the closet.

“But I think you should put in some effort. After all, my four young cousins are coming too. Who knows—you might find your prince among them,” her Dadu teased gently.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her hands froze for a moment.
Again, those strange feelings knocked at the doors of her heart—feelings she’d been running from.

She didn’t understand why she was feeling like this. Why was she waiting so eagerly for someone she had never met? Why was she expecting… something?

“That’s so stupid,” she muttered to herself and resumed ironing the clothes, though her mind stayed tangled in confusion.

“Dadu, I’ve hung your clothes. I have some work to do—talk to you later,” she said quickly, almost running out of the room. Her heart was beating out of control, and for no known reason.

“I need to stop thinking like this,” she whispered to herself and headed to the kitchen to help her mother.

---

After Two Days

Two days flew by like a blink, and the day finally arrived. Mr. Ahmad and his family were arriving. Salman Villa buzzed with excitement and activity from early morning. The women were busy cooking, cleaning, and getting ready.

Mr. Salman’s younger brother, Mr. Hameed, and his family had also arrived. He had a 16-year-old daughter, Hooria, and a 19-year-old son, Rehan, who studied law with Zoya’s brother Aaliyan.

Ruhi and Hooria, being the same age, were busy chatting while occasionally helping their mothers. Mr. Salman and Mr. Hameed had gone to pick up Mr. Ahmad’s family from the airport, and anticipation at home had doubled.

“Your London Prince is just a few steps away, Api,” Ruhi whispered teasingly in Zoya’s ear as she chopped salad.

Startled, Zoya glared at her, but Ruhi only laughed and ran off with Hooria.

Zoya placed her hand over her heart, which had started thudding wildly again.

“I’m going to kill you, Ruhi, for making me feel all this,” she muttered, taking deep breaths—but she already knew it was useless.

No matter how hard she tried, her heart wasn’t calming. Restless and frustrated with herself, she began pacing.

“They’re here!” her brother Aaliyan’s voice echoed through the house.

---

Zain’s POV
Third Person

“Zain, where are you lost?” Kashif, his elder brother, asked, noticing him staring out the airplane window at the clouds.

“Nothing, Bhai. I’m just…” he paused, unsure of what to say.

“I know—you’re missing your room,” Kashif said with a knowing smile. Zain smiled back but didn’t mention the tingles in his chest, the strange unrest he was feeling.

High above the clouds, he was still struggling with emotions he couldn’t define. Was it excitement? Anxiety? Something else entirely? He just wanted to know the reason behind these sudden heartbeats and those silent prayers in his chest.

“Is Bhai missing his room? Really?” Hassan suddenly appeared, looking scandalized.

“Don’t tell me you’re missing your room and your books. God!” he said dramatically, holding his head while Kashif and Zain chuckled.

“But I am missing my girlfriends,” Hassan added, and all heads turned to him in disbelief.

“Girlfriends?” both Zain and Kashif said in unison.

“Yep. Three—no, four—no wait, five girlfriends,” he said, counting on his fingers.

“And you’re still alive?” Zain asked, laughing, as Waseem joined them and burst into laughter too.

“Please don’t tell Baba. He’ll kill me! It’s a secret, okay?” Hassan whispered.

“Brothers keep secrets, and I’ll help you all in your love matters,” he added confidently.

“No need,” they all replied at once, bursting into laughter again.

As the air hostess came to inform them the plane was about to land, they returned to their seats. But once again, Zain felt the strange flutter in his chest.

“Whatever this is… please reveal yourself soon,” he whispered, eyes closed.

As they landed in Pakistan, a smile touched his lips. He could feel the fragrance of home in the air.

After immigration, they stepped out to find Mr. Salman and Mr. Hameed waiting for them.

“Assalam-u-Alaikum!” they all greeted warmly.

Soon, they were on their way to Salman Villa. Zain sat quietly in the car, trying to calm the chaos in his heart—for someone he didn’t even know yet.

A/N:: Assalam-u-Alikum readers.
How are you all?

Another update.
Short chapter? I know but the coming chapters eull be long. I'm rewriting the story so i hope you're liking this one.

I need a bunch of votes and comments. Give a lot of love to my this book because this is my favourite and i know when the book will end you will love it too.

Till update Allah Hafiz.

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