Alena sat quietly in the car, her handbag clutched close to her chest as she gazed out of the window.

“Thank you so much for coming with me,” Wahaj said, his voice laced with excitement.

She turned briefly to look at him, forcing a small smile, before returning her gaze outside. The decision to accompany him had not been easy. It wasn’t Wahaj who interested her—on the contrary, being alone with him unsettled her. But for the sake of her company, she had pushed aside her hesitation. She reminded herself of the pepper spray tucked safely inside her bag and tried to ease her nerves.

“What happened? You look tense,” Wahaj asked, his eyes flicking toward her.

“Shouldn’t I be?” she replied calmly, though her tone carried an edge. “When I’m traveling with a man like you?”

Wahaj laughed. “Hahaha, you can trust me, dear.”

Alena’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I hope you’re trustworthy,” she said pointedly.

Her words made him stop the car. Surprised, she looked at him, questions rising in her eyes.

“Miss Alena,” he said, turning to face her. His voice was steady, but his expression was serious—almost intense. His gaze locked onto hers, unblinking. She felt a strange wave of unease at the way he was looking at her, as though his eyes carried unspoken promises. His cologne lingered in the air, adding to the heaviness of the moment.

“One thing I want you to know,” Wahaj continued, his tone low and deliberate. “You’re the first woman I respect the most after my mother. Your honor and respect mean more to me than my life.”

Alena blinked, caught off guard. She couldn’t decide if he was being genuine or simply weaving another one of his manipulative charms.

“I may be a womanizer,” he admitted with disarming honesty, “but when it comes to you, I can die before hurting you in any way. You can trust me.”

Her lips curved into an involuntary smile, though she wasn’t sure why. His words—whether truth or lie—had struck something within her.

“I can trust you, Mr. Wahaj. And thank you… for respecting me,” she said softly.

“Wahaj,” he corrected gently. “Just Wahaj.”

Alena looked at him in astonishment, but he turned away, started the car again, and the journey resumed. She leaned back in her seat, trying to quiet her racing thoughts.

It was going to be a long road ahead. She wasn’t sure what changes this journey would bring, but something in Wahaj’s eyes earlier had unsettled her certainty. For the first time, she felt a faint urge to believe him. Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against the seat, though her mind replayed his every word, each one echoing louder than she wished to admit.

--------
In the village, the Hashims were overflowing with joy. Preparations for the anniversary party were in full swing, and everyone was equally eager to meet Zohaib and Aasiya. Even Zimal was returning with her husband and son. After years of separation following a painful incident that had forced them to live apart, the entire family was finally coming together under one roof again.

Years ago, when Kaif saved Soha from Sultan Khan and Sardar Wahab, he made a life-altering choice. To protect his family, he severed all ties with relatives and disappeared into obscurity. He moved his parents to Baharan village and cut off every connection that could lead their enemies back to them. Sultan and Wahab had searched relentlessly through family and acquaintances but never succeeded. For a while, Kaif even lived abroad, returning only when he felt the danger had finally passed.

It was only three years ago that Kaif reestablished contact with his parents and extended family. Slowly, visits resumed, and the fear that had once loomed over them seemed to vanish. Now, with Zimal flying back to meet her parents and brother and Zohaib and Aasiya arriving from Saudi Arabia, the reunion promised to be the most memorable gift for Mr. and Mrs. Hashim’s anniversary.

Kaif was relieved and hopeful, believing he had secured his family’s safety. Yet, unbeknownst to them all, the danger had not ended—it still lurked in the shadows, waiting.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

Khirad stood rooted in place, her senses clouded by the memory of him—the warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice, and the fragrance that lingered around her like a spell. She barely noticed when Soha and Zobariya came up beside her.

“Khirad?” Soha nudged her gently. “What are you doing here?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Nothing… just…” Khirad trailed off, still lost in thoughts she couldn’t confess, her cheeks faintly flushed.

“Let’s go inside,” Soha said, slipping her hand into Khirad’s and guiding her forward.

But Khirad’s mind was elsewhere, her heart still beating erratically. Every detail of that moment replayed in her chest like a sweet ache she couldn’t shake.

As they reached the entrance of the hall, the sound of a car pulling into the porch caught their attention. Zimal stepped out with her husband and son.

“Phuphu!” Soha and Zobariya squealed together, rushing toward her. They threw their arms around her, and Zimal, overwhelmed, hugged them tightly as tears welled in her eyes.

“Welcome,” they said in unison, their faces glowing with happiness.

“Ismail, come, son,” Zimal called. Her boy stepped out of the car with a bag slung over his shoulder—but he froze midway.

His eyes had landed on Khirad. The faint smile on her lips, the sparkle in her eyes, the quiet innocence she carried—it held him captive. The world around him blurred into nothingness. For Ismail, colors drained from everything else, only to burn brighter in her presence.

“Assalam-u-Alaikum, Ismail,” Zobariya’s cheerful voice snapped him out of his daze.

“Huh?” He blinked and turned to her, his lips curling into a smile. Zobariya had been his best friend since childhood, the bond between them surviving despite distance and time.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” he replied warmly.

“How are you? And where were you lost?” she asked, holding onto his arm playfully.

“I’m fine,” he said with a grin. “By the way, who’s that beautiful girl?” His gaze flickered back to Khirad, who was now walking ahead with Zimal and Soha.

Zobariya frowned. “Better stay away from her. She’s not your type.”

“And what’s my type?” Ismail teased, slipping an arm around her shoulders. His mischievous eyes bored into hers, and her heart skipped unexpectedly.

“Your type? That’s easy,” she retorted, walking ahead with him still hooked around her. “A girl who knows you inside and out. Someone who’ll sit with you over coffee and books, a partner who can join you at snooker, and most importantly, someone who can bear your snoring.”

Ismail stared at her, stunned at how accurate she was. “I don’t snore,” he protested, snapping out of his astonishment.

Zobariya giggled as she stepped into the hall, leaving him staring after her with a smile tugging at his lips.

Inside, the atmosphere glowed with warmth. Kaif and Anaya greeted everyone, while Mr. and Mrs. Hashim beamed with pride at their children and grandchildren filling the hall with laughter and chatter.

Khirad marveled at the joyous reunion, though her thoughts wandered back to him, stirring unspoken feelings. Meanwhile, Ismail’s eyes kept straying toward her, unable to let go of the image that had so suddenly taken root in his heart.

Across the room, Aryan’s gaze lingered on Soha, who sat by Zobariya, examining the gifts Zimal had brought. Dressed in a simple sea-green cotton outfit with a chiffon dupatta draped lightly over her shoulders, her hair half-clipped and tumbling down her back, Soha looked effortlessly graceful. Every time her lips curved into a smile, Aryan felt his composure falter.

“I’m going crazy,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

“You said something?” Soha’s gentle voice pulled his eyes back to hers.

“Huh? Yes—I was asking about Arhaan,” he stammered, glancing around.

“This boy never sits still,” Anaya remarked with a fond smile, making everyone chuckle.

Right then, Arhaan burst into the hall, arms full of ice cream bags and snacks, with Nabeel trailing behind him.

“Anyone missing me?” he announced with his usual energy.

“Arhaan!” everyone exclaimed with laughter.

After handing the snacks to the maid, Arhaan rushed to hug his phuphu Zimal and her husband, Mr. Bashir. Then, spotting Ismail, he embraced him tightly before taking a seat.

The hall brimmed with life, voices overlapping with joy. Mr. and Mrs. Hashim watched their family, their hearts overflowing.

“Where’s my Bibi Gul?” Arhaan called out suddenly, glancing around.

From the kitchen doorway, Bibi Gul emerged with a maid pushing a trolley of food.

“My Bibi Gul! Where were you? I missed you,” Arhaan said, throwing his arms around her, making everyone laugh again.

“Where were you? I was searching for you,” she teased in return, narrowing her eyes at his evasive glance.

“I… I was here. Just went to get the ice creams,” he said quickly, pointing toward the bowls. His nervous smile didn’t escape her sharp eyes, though he avoided meeting them.

“Let me serve,” he offered hastily, handing out ice cream bowls to distract her.

“Arhaan is the life of this house,” Mr. Bashir said warmly, taking his bowl.

The hall rang with laughter, love, and togetherness—a family reunited at last, though shadows still lingered unseen.

Only Arhaan could think like that about his favorite uncle. With that thought, he moved ahead toward where Khirad was seated.

“Ice cream,” he said softly, offering her the bowl. Khirad suddenly stood up, casting him a brief glance, her expression tense.

Soha, who had been chatting with Zimal, noticed the nervous look on Khirad’s face. The rest of the family remained lost in their conversations.

“Take it, Khirad,” Soha encouraged, her words drawing everyone’s attention toward the young girl. Khirad grew even more flustered under their gazes.

“No… I’m just a little tired. I want to take some rest,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.

“Okay, beta. Jamela will take you to your room,” Anaya replied gently. Khirad nodded and followed the maid out of the room.

As soon as she left, Arhaan dropped onto the sofa where Khirad had been sitting, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The sight made Soha giggle. She moved closer, her eyes studying his face, which carried Khirad’s name written all over it.

“What happened?” she teased, taking the ice cream bowl from his hand before he could protest, and began eating it herself.

“She really hates me, pal… how will I ever win her heart?” Arhaan whispered, his voice heavy with frustration.

Soha only giggled harder. “You’re not going to win her—that’s why I keep telling you to guard your heart,” she said, turning to leave. But his next words made her pause.

“Only I can win her… and she wants me to…” His sentence trailed off, unfinished, leaving Soha curious and impatient.

“What does she want?” she pressed, but Arhaan only yawned, stood up lazily, and walked out of the hall, leaving her with questions hanging in the air.

----------

Roney’s heart was racing. The memory of that moment between them—the moment when he had pulled her into his arms and felt the softness of her lips against his—still consumed him. Even after an hour had passed, he felt trapped in that very instant, unable to free himself from her touch, her fragrance, her hold. The more he tried to steady his thoughts, the more she pulled him back into her.

It had been the first time in years that they had stood so close. That unexpected kiss had left them both in a daze, their hearts tangled in tingles and nervousness they hadn’t yet overcome.

“Roney, come to your senses,” he muttered, hitting his own forehead lightly with his palm.

“I shouldn’t have done this. That kiss… it’s driving me crazy for her.” Running his fingers through his hair, he paced the floor restlessly. Nothing helped. Her presence lingered in his mind, overwhelming his every thought. He could still feel the softness of her lips against his, the press of her hands on his chest, and the heat of that fragile, stolen moment.

“I should talk to her.” Pulling out his phone, he dialed her number, but she didn’t pick up. He left a message—still nothing. He sent two more, but silence remained her only reply.

Roney smiled faintly, imagining it was her way of showing offense—or maybe it was just her shyness. Scratching the back of his head, he was lost in thoughts of her when his phone rang. He quickly glanced at the screen and answered.

“Assalam-o-Alaikum, Sir,” he said.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam. Roney, you’ve got work to do,” came the firm voice of Mr. Ubaid-ul-Allah.

“Yes, Sir… but you know where I am right now. I can’t just disappear all of a sudden,” Roney replied, scanning his surroundings.

“I know,” Ubaid-ul-Allah continued, “but Malik can’t leave his post. The danger is too close to where he is. Officer Tayyab will accompany you on this mission. DCP Sarfaraz’s family has been kidnapped. We cannot let enemies of our country use innocent lives for leverage. They might demand Sarfaraz in exchange for his family—but that’s not an option. We want both. Sarfaraz and his family. You have until tomorrow night. If we don’t rescue them by then, we lose them.”

Roney’s jaw tightened. “Tomorrow evening, his family will be in our headquarters, Sir,” he promised, already forming a plan.

“You move within half an hour. Officer Tayyab is on his way to you.”

“As you command, Sir. May Allah help us,” Roney said, ending the call.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself for the mission. His eyes drifted toward the side of a nearby house. He stopped, staring at the second-floor window glowing faintly with light. His heart skipped. He knew it was hers.

Before leaving, he wanted to see her. To hear her voice. But she had ignored his calls and left his messages unanswered. The more she distanced herself, the more restless he became.

“Wait for me. Now you’ll have to face me,” he whispered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the window. A determined smile touched his lips as he climbed the wall, preparing to slip out of the house and into the night.

---------
Dinner had ended, and everyone began retreating to their rooms. Tomorrow promised to be a busy day, so rest was the only sensible choice. Zimal Phuphu and Bashir Uncle headed to their rooms, as did Mama, Baba, and Agha Jaan with Dadi Jaan. Ismail went along with Nabeel, since the two friends had decided to share a room. Soon, the entire house was quiet—everyone settled in for the night.

Everyone, except Aryan. He was still seated in the living room, eyes fixed on his laptop.

Zobariya tugged at Soha’s hand, asking her to come along, since the two were sharing a room. But Soha gestured for her to go ahead. She wanted to wait until Aryan finished his work.

“How much work do you even do?” she asked, finally sitting down across from him.

“You should sleep. I’m reading emails and answering them. It’ll take time,” Aryan replied without lifting his gaze from the screen.

“Alena’s emails?” Soha’s brows furrowed. Just the mention of that woman made her chest tighten with irritation.

“Yes. Now go to sleep, Sohan,” Aryan said, still focused on the laptop.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Offended, she pushed back her chair and stood.
“Don’t talk to me now. Ever.” With that, she turned sharply and made her way toward the stairs.

“Sohan, listen. Hey!” Aryan called after her, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even turn.

In a quick stride, he caught up with her. “Sohan, listen, please.” His hand closed around her wrist just as she was stepping onto the stairs. The sudden pull threw her off balance, but before she could fall, his arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her.

The world seemed to pause. It had been nothing but an instinctive act of saving her, yet it left them standing impossibly close. She was caged in his arms, her hand gripping his shoulder for support. His breath fanned across her forehead, warm and disarming. Goosebumps rose on her skin where his arm pressed against her waist, while his familiar fragrance clouded her senses. Neither moved away.

“You’re offended?” he asked softly, still holding her close, seemingly unaware of how intimate their position was.

Her lips trembled before words escaped. “I’m… not.” She tried to step back, and only then did he release her, retreating a couple of steps.

She avoided his eyes, though she could feel his gaze lingering on her.

“Sohan,” he called gently. She looked up, finding a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Why are you upset? It’s just business. I have to talk to Alena,” he explained.

The sound of that name twisted inside her, and she frowned. “I’m not stopping you from doing that,” she replied curtly before turning to leave.

Behind her, Aryan chuckled softly, but she refused to look back. That woman, Alena, between them—Soha couldn’t bear it. But why? That question always stopped her from going further.

When she finally entered her room, Zobariya was already fast asleep. But Soha lay tangled in her thoughts, Aryan’s face refusing to leave her mind. Eventually, she slipped under the comforter, still thinking about him, until sleep finally claimed her.
------------

It was midnight when thirst pulled Soha out of her sleep. Reaching for the bottle on the bedside table, she found it empty, and frustration flickered inside her. With a sigh, she picked it up and dragged herself out of bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep.

Holding the bottle loosely, she made her way toward the stairs, planning to head to the kitchen. But as she descended, she was met with complete darkness—the lower portion of the house cloaked in shadow.

“Why is it so dark?” she muttered, squinting as she stepped down carefully.

The silence and darkness made it difficult to move. Clutching the railing, she tried to steady herself, determined not to trip, when suddenly someone bumped into her. The sudden contact startled her, and with a small squeal, the bottle slipped from her hand, clattering against the steps.

“Shhh…”

The whisper was low and close—so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. His arm had caught her by the waist, steadying her, while her own hands instinctively clutched his shoulders.

Her eyes flew open wide. The house was silent, but the sound of his breathing filled her ears. The warmth of his body pressed against hers, his presence both unsettling and familiar. Yet he didn’t move away. He simply stood there, holding her, as though studying her in the darkness.

Soha’s heart raced. She tried to make sense of the shadow before her, running her hands lightly over his shoulders. The touch… it wasn’t unfamiliar. The scent wrapping around her wasn’t strange either. It was Aryan’s scent—the one she always recognized, always adored. She was certain it was him. But why was he silent?

“Aryan… it’s you, isn’t it?” she whispered, her hand sliding down to his arm.

“I know it’s you,” she said again, her voice carrying both certainty and unease.

But he didn’t answer. His silence pressed heavier than the night around them.

“Please say something. You’re scaring me,” she pleaded, attempting to free herself.

Instead of loosening his hold, his grip tightened, pulling her even closer. His other hand slid up, brushing her hair back from her face. Soha’s breath caught, her chest tightening as his lips touched her cheek in a gentle kiss. She froze, her eyes wide with shock. Aryan… what was he doing? Did he remember? Did he finally remember the bond they shared?

His nose grazed along her jaw, his warm breath setting her skin aflame. His fingers tangled in her hair, sending a shiver down her spine.

“You remember, Aryan?” she whispered, holding his hand as it moved through her hair.

His lips pressed to her cheek again, this time leaving two lingering kisses that made her eyes flutter shut. A smile tugged at her lips despite her confusion. A sweetness, a tingle, bloomed in her chest—so beautiful, so overwhelming. In that moment, everything made sense. Why Aryan was so important to her. Why he had always been special. He was Aryan. Her Aryan. Meant for her since the beginning. That was why fate had tied them together in Nikah when they were children—companions destined to be one another’s.

“Aryan… you remember our Nikah?” she breathed, searching for him in the darkness she couldn’t pierce, her words trembling between hope and fear.

“Say something,” she urged again.

But instead of words, she felt him lean closer. His teeth grazed her earlobe in a sharp bite that made her hiss softly in pain. Shock flared as he tugged away the earring she had been wearing. And then, without a single word, he was gone—his steps retreating swiftly up the stairs, leaving her stunned in the dark.

Soha stood frozen, hand rising to her ear, her mind spinning. What did that mean? What was he trying to tell her? She turned toward the staircase, staring at the direction he had vanished. The kisses, the closeness, the truth of their Nikah—he hadn’t said a word. He had only taken her earring.

Her heart throbbed with a mix of confusion and certainty. He would have to answer her. She wouldn’t let it go. Aryan could never refuse her. He would explain everything.

Touching her cheek where his lips had pressed moments before, a soft smile spread across her face. Forgetting her thirst, forgetting the water altogether, she turned back toward her room, her heart still racing from what had just transpired.

---------

Khirad lay awake, her mind restless, replaying the events of the day. Again and again, her thoughts circled back to that moment—the moment when his lips had found hers, and she hadn’t been able to stop him. Instead, she had melted in his arms. She kept turning on the bed, unable to quiet the memory, unable to escape the feelings it had stirred inside her.

The kiss. The embrace. The warmth of his arms around her. It had felt as though all her fears had been drawn out of her, replaced by strength, hope, and happiness. That one touch had shifted something deep inside her. As if in that single kiss, he had stolen her doubts and breathed courage into her.

Her fingers rose to her lips, brushing them lightly with her thumb, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She remembered the firmness of his kiss—the press of his lips that had held more than passion. She had felt his anger in it, his frustration in the way he wouldn’t let go, and his love in the desperate hold of his arms, as though protecting her from falling apart.

He was the man she could fall for. No—she had already fallen. Deeply. And for him, she knew, she was the only one. For years, she had been the center of his world, even if he hadn’t said it outright. His every action, his words, his unyielding love—all of it had made her his, and made him hers in return.

Unable to hold back, Khirad sat up and reached for her phone. Her heart raced as she opened his messages, the ones he had sent just hours ago. She hadn’t replied. She hadn’t been able to take his calls either. But now, reading them, her chest ached with both longing and guilt.

“You’re offended?”

The first message made her smile, her heart warming at his concern. She could almost hear his voice in those simple words, feel the way he would have looked at her with that earnestness she could never resist. He had wanted to talk to her, but she hadn’t been able to. Not after what had happened.

Her eyes fell on the second message.

“Khirad.”

Her breath caught, her chest tightening as though his voice had just called her name aloud. Every time he said it, it felt the same as it had the very first time. It carried a weight, a pull, a tenderness that unraveled her from within. He was indeed crazy for her—but it was his madness, his unshakable devotion, that had driven her to this point, made her heart beat wildly for him.

Then her gaze landed on the third message, and the smile faded from her lips.

“I’m going.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she read it again. Going? Where? Was he coming back? What did he mean? The uncertainty knotted her stomach. She wanted to call him back, to demand answers, but something inside her stopped her. Instead, she waited—waited for another message, for his teasing words, for his playful flirting, for anything that would tell her he was still there.

With a heavy sigh, Khirad placed the phone aside and lay back down, her heart still racing, her thoughts tangled with him. Always him. Because in truth, her thoughts were her life—and he was at the very center of them. He had become her life.

--------
Sardar Wahaj entered his village with Alena Bakhshi by his side. The serene beauty of the place caught her attention immediately—lush green fields, glistening wells, and hardworking farmers in motion. Everything about the village seemed to excite her, and Wahaj, quietly observing her wonder, couldn’t help but smile.

“You see there,” he said, pointing toward the north where a small building stood in the distance.

“That’s our handmade crafts factory. The women of our village work there, while some design from their homes and send us their creations.”

Alena nodded, her eyes bright with curiosity. “When will we visit?” she asked eagerly.

“Not now, of course,” Wahaj chuckled.

“Why not?” She frowned, disappointment written across her face.

“It’s nearly evening, and my family is waiting for us. We’ll visit tomorrow morning.” His voice was light, carrying warmth, but Alena’s expression hardened. She turned her gaze back to the window, making it clear she wasn’t interested in meeting his family just yet.

Wahaj only smiled at her attitude and continued driving until the car rolled to a stop before a grand haveli. At his honk, the towering wooden gates creaked open, revealing a breathtaking view inside—a sprawling lawn with a neat walking path, a vibrant side garden, and a cozy seating area. The red-brick haveli stood tall and imposing, leaving Alena staring in awe.

“Welcome to my home,” Wahaj said warmly. She turned to him, still caught in the moment, and his soft chuckle broke her trance.

“Come,” he added, stepping out of the car. She followed quietly.

Inside, the heavy wooden doors opened to reveal two guards who bowed slightly at Wahaj’s presence. The haveli was divided into two sections—one for men and the other for women. Wahaj led Alena toward the women’s side, where the sight before her widened her eyes. Women moved about gracefully—working, chatting, and laughing. Among them sat an elderly lady, dignified and composed. Wahaj walked straight to her, bowing respectfully before sitting at her side.

“Dadi Jaan, how are you?” he asked, lowering his head to receive her blessings.

“My son, I am well. I missed you so much,” his grandmother replied, pulling him into a fond embrace.

Turning toward the maids, Wahaj raised his voice slightly. “Clear the area, please.” At once, the women stepped aside, leaving his mother, sisters, and cousins to gather closer, greeting him with teasing words and laughter. A few hovered near Alena, curious and smiling.

“She’s Miss Alena,” Wahaj announced, glancing at her. “We’re working with her company on a project. She’s here to visit our factory.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Alena said politely, and soon the girls swept her into their circle, chatting eagerly. Wahaj, standing back, watched with quiet amusement.

“You like that girl?” his grandmother’s sudden question startled him.

“No. Why?” he asked quickly, deflecting.

“I can see the way you look at her,” she replied knowingly. Wahaj laughed softly, shaking his head. But his laughter made Alena glance toward him.

The sound struck her unexpectedly—rich, warm, full of life. Something about it made her heart leap, leaving a strange ache in its wake. She forced herself to look away, pretending to be absorbed in the conversation with his sisters, but her thoughts betrayed her, pulling her back to him again and again.

“Miss Alena,” Wahaj’s voice broke her reverie. She turned to him, and her heart tightened at the way his tone seemed to linger.

“Freshen up. Uswa will show you to your room. We’ll have dinner afterward.”

Alena nodded, rising to follow his sister. The room prepared for her was spacious yet elegant. Closing the door behind her, she let out a deep breath, trying to calm herself. His laughter still echoed in her ears, teasing her heart in ways she didn’t understand.

“Why am I thinking about him?” she muttered, placing her clothes on the bed. “He’s not my type. I’m not even interested. He’s too tall, too flirtatious, and those eyes… they change color every time I look.” She tried to remind herself, scolding her own thoughts, yet they kept circling back to him.

Her phone buzzed, startling her. Wahaj’s name flashed on the screen.

“Are you thinking about me?” His playful voice poured into her ear as soon as she answered.

Alena froze, clutching the phone tighter. “Excuse me? Why would I think about you?” she retorted sharply, carrying her clothes into the washroom, though her heartbeat betrayed her, quickening at his words.

“Because I started sneezing,” Wahaj replied smoothly. “So I thought you must be missing me.”

She stopped mid-step, her chest tightening. “Such a flirt you are,” she muttered, hanging her clothes before walking back into the room.

“Really? But I think I’m in love,” Wahaj’s voice came again, startling her.

“Love? And you? That’s impossible,” she scoffed, sitting on the bed for support. But his easy laugh rang out on the other side of the line, unsettling her all over again.

“I’ll prove it,” he said lightly. “See you at dinner.”

The call ended, leaving Alena with her heart racing and his laughter still echoing in her ears. Closing her eyes, she cursed herself softly—for the way she felt, for the way one laugh could shake her so deeply.

---------

Closing the door behind her, Soha was smiling, still lost in the memory of the moment she had shared with Aryan on the stairs. Her heart was racing, her cheeks warm from the touch that lingered on her skin. She glanced at Zobariya’s empty bed, then slipped into her own, butterflies dancing in her stomach. A shy smile curved her lips as her face glowed with the warmth of his nearness.

"Aryan, why didn’t I realize my feelings until now?" she thought to herself.
She had never imagined such moments would come into her life. She had never thought she would stand so close to him, feel his touch, and look into his eyes with such belonging. But now she was enjoying it—enjoying being near him, enjoying feeling like his wife. Soha was lost in her thoughts, unaware that the man she mistook for Aryan was, in truth, sinking deeper into obsession.

Malik leaned back in his chair, staring at her picture glowing on his desktop screen.
"So you remember, my fairy, don’t you?" he whispered, a smile tugging at his lips.
"So you remember your nikah," he added softly, his fingers brushing across her image as though caressing her cheek—the very same spot where he had kissed her today.

"But Malik marked you tonight, didn’t I?" he murmured, laughing quietly to himself as his eyes glinted with madness.
"Malik has reached you, my Soha. And soon, you’ll be mine—forgetting everything else. You’ll confess your love to me with your own lips. I’ll make you feel what Aryan never could. And then," he whispered with a smile, "you will belong to me."

Closing his eyes, Malik leaned back, still smiling as if the moment already belonged to him.

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

How are you all doing? I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Every chapter is slowly opening new layers, and I’m so grateful for your love and patience with this journey.

In this chapter, we see how Soha’s feelings for Aryan are blooming quietly yet beautifully. Her heart has started to recognize the little joys he brings into her life. At the same time, we also witness the darker twist—Malik’s growing obsession. The sweetness of Aryan and Soha’s bond stands against the shadows of danger that are drawing near.

This mix of love, suspense, and unspoken emotions will only get deeper in the coming chapters. Their bond is strengthening, but challenges are rising with it too. Let’s see how their journey unfolds.

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With love,
Your Author 💕