disco dino 🦕

[Her]

Y/N never held much experience with love. First grade maybe? When she was distributing her favourite chocolates in her class for her birthday and gave her crush an extra, sacrificing her own treat. Or maybe fourth grade? When she was playing tag with her friends during her break and purposefully missed the guy who had kindly given her a pencil an hour before. Love was abstract to her–for some it was physical, for others it was unspoken, but for her it was a thought. A thought so far-fetched that she hadn’t felt it ever. Until tonight–when someone had taken a chance on her.

She could still feel the lingering softness of his enveloping hand on top of hers–it felt right in her touch. The scars that spanned across his wheaty skin were meant to be a warning–a warning of his tainted past, of his sorrows, a brutal fate. But when had Y/N ever heeded any warnings? If anything, these warnings seemed intriguing as though she wouldn't mind spending the remainder of her nights tracing his warnings, one by one, in the dark–wanting to know if they’d share his side of the story with her, or if he would continue to hide behind them.

Y/N lay on her stomach on Yalina’s bed, dazed, staring blankly at the maang tikka that splayed on her vanity. The piece felt intimate amongst the daily necessities, so did Uzair's words. The way his guard was at bay when speaking to her, the nervousness hiding his eyes from hers. It was endearing–unexpected. Uzair Baloch was a familiar name, whispered on the tips of many tongues out of fear, weariness, yet she had felt anything but when calling him out. The accessory grew isolated with each blink as Y/N found herself entranced within its shine, losing herself to his words, the shy wave that kept plaguing her mind. She wondered what had attracted him to her? Why her? She wasn’t out of the ordinary, nor was she particularly extroverted tonight for him to notice her.

Y/N’s trance was ambushed by the sight of dark-brown stained hands, the scent of henna infiltrating her nostrils as Yalina shoved her decorated palms in front of her face.

“Yeh kya hai?” her best friend questioned irritably.

Y/N scrunched her face back from the sudden invasion and sat up, crossing her legs as she hugged a cushion to her chest.

“Lag to mehndi rahi hai...” she replied blankly.

“Zyada hoshiyar mat ban mere saath” she snipped, shoving her palms even closer to Y/N's face.“Yeh kaisi mehndi lagayi hai?! Koi rang nahi chadh raha” she mumbled disheartenedly.

“Iss mein meri kya galti hai, chottu?” Y/N tried to negotiate.

“Saari teri galti hai! Tu mujhse pyaar nahi karti” she whined, dramatically plopping down on the bed across from her.

“Lekin main—”

“Saari mohabbat uss khambe pe uda di na tune?! Dekh rahi thi main kaise tu usko ghure ja rahi thi poori raat.” Yalina pointed to a wide-eyed Y/N.

“Theek hai tu?” she laughed awkwardly. “Konsi mohabbat? Kis khambe ke liye?!” she defended. There was no way that Y/N’s gawking admiration was so obvious to the naked eye.

Yalina scoffed at the bold-faced lie, knowing her best friend had indeed fallen flat for the shy boy’s antics. She roughly tossed the pillow from Y/N’s hold and narrowed her eyes. “Poori raat tu usko nahi ghurr rahi thi?” she deadpanned.

Y/N straightened a little at the accusatory question, clearing her throat to avoid Yalina’s awaiting stare as she mumbled a half-hearted “Nahi”

“Nahi?” Yalina blinked incredulously.

“Nahi...” Y/N dragged out like a child caught stealing candy. “Ghurr nahi rahi thi... sirf dekh rahi thi” she trailed off.

Yalina stared at her. Y/N stared back. The silence lasted briefly before Y/N looked away, hoping she could somehow disappear into herself. A grin slowly spread across Yalina's face as she picked up on the buried adoration peeking through. “Achha...” she mused as a sharp swat landed against Y/N’s arm, the discarded cushion landing across it sharply. “Tu mujhe paagal bana rahi hai.” Another hit. “Sharam nahi aati?!”

“Yalina!” Y/N threw her arms up in a futile attempt to shield herself from the continued assault. “Tu jaisa soch rahi hai, waisa kuch nahi hai!” Y/N begged to differ but was met with deaf ears.

“Usse toh badi baatein kar rahi thi muhtarma poori raat!” she accused, landing one final hit. “Aur ab chup–saach kehne mein sharma rahi hai.” With a groan, Y/N finally snatched the cushion from her hands before another attack could follow. 

Yalina huffed dramatically, choosing to surrender as she shuffled closer to the blushing girl and nudged Y/N's shoulder with her own. “Pasand aaya na..?” Yalina prompted teasingly, seeking an earnest answer but the question hung between them.

“Phudu sa tha...” Y/N  muttered, fingers twisting restlessly together. A smile threatened the corners of her lips despite her best efforts. The dismissal lacking conviction even to her own ears.

“Matlab…tujhe Uzair cute laga…” Yalina quickly interrupted Y/N’s avoidance–knowing the girl would try to hide her feelings as deep as possible in hopes of fading its bloom.

“Haan.” she confirmed absent-mindedly, not understanding the trap her best friend had laid down for her to slip into. Y/N looked up and caught a smirking Yalina, finally grasping the essence of what she had agreed to. She quickly shook her head no to discredit her previous admission. “Nahi! Bilkul nahi! Mera woh matlab nahi tha, chottu–”

Yalina giggled at Y/N’s flustered state–pupils dilated at the horror of the confirmation that yes, she had found the awkward man endearing, cheeks masked with a faint red, warm, as his words strung along her every thought for the nth time tonight. His voice luring her back to his fervour. The worst part was that she didn't want his mark to leave.

As the laughter settled into the room, Yalina caught Y/N drifting away again. This time, there was something quieter about her distraction–something unsure. She took hold of Y/N’s fidgeting hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance, “Uzair accha ladka hai…haan thoda sa bhondu hai lekin dil ka bura nahi hai…kam se kam Hamza toh yeh hi bolta hai uske baare mein.” she clarified.

Y/N didn't answer, opting to simply lower her gaze to her hands. “Shayad main hi bewajah matlab nikaal rahi hoon. Usne baat hi toh ki thi... ho sakta hai woh sabke saath itna hi meetha ho” she hesitated, words faltering as the events of the night replayed themselves once more. The way he had taken a chance on her. The way he had offered himself as a muse to her art. The way he had listened. In a sea of faces, Y/N had never expected to be noticed. Much less by him.

“Y/N.” Yalina warned sharply as she picked up on the insecurities threatening to surface. “Fazool baatein mat soch, wo–”

Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed,“Chhod na” not wanting to address the simmering insecurities that followed if she chased Uzair’s looming shadow. “Itna bhi kya sochna? Paanch minute baat ki hai.” She shrugged. “Konsa rishta maang raha tha.”

“Ajeeb bandi hai tu!” Yalina exclaimed. “Poori raat tujhe hi dekhta raha. Har mauke pe tere paas aa raha tha. Tujhse baatein kar raha tha.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue. “Nahi, chup.” Yalina pointed a finger at her. “Mehndi tak lagwa li usne tere haaton. Uzair Baloch. Mehndi. Apne haath pe.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Y/N's lips as she was reminded how he kept choosing her. “Sirf isliye ke tere saath thodi der aur baith sake.”

“Chottu–”

“Main andhi nahi hoon” Yalina confirmed firmly.

“Andhi toh tu hai” Y/N giggled softly as Yalina let out a scandalous gasp at the audacity of the words, eyebrows furrowing at the false implications. 

“Kya matlab? Main sab dekh sakti hoon!” Yalina jabbed a finger into her own chest. “Do aankhein hain mere paas. Dono kaam karti hain.”

“Karti hoti toh phir dekh pati ke tere mehndi ka rang gehra aaya hai.” Y/N tugged on Yalina’s bridal-clad hands, turning them towards her. It was a quick way to avert the conversation happening seconds ago–one that didn’t belong. Yalina blinked. For a moment, she simply stared at the true stain of love that decorated her hands, a reminder of the heart of tonight.

“Arrey...” she breathed, her irritation melting away. “Sach mein…” A grin spread across her face as she admired the rich brown winding across her palms.

“Dekha?” Y/N smirked. “Meri mehndi pe shaq kar rahi thi.”

“Main toh bas teri mohabbat test kar rahi thi.” Yalina nudged jokingly as Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend’s dramatics, scooting closer to witness the physicality of what love could be.

“Chal, Hamza ka naam dhoond ke dikha.” Y/N ushered as Yalina gasped–eyes roaming over her hands once more; previous arguments lost to the thought of her beloved.

As the two friends traced the patterns and hidden letters through the intricate designs, the room filled with easy laughter again–some that built new memories, some that quietly clung to old ones. And while Yalina searched for Hamza’s name among the swirl, Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to Uzair, wondering if his mehndi had darkened the same way.

[Him]

Uzair’s jeep reeked. The stuffy vehicle oozed of mehndi. sweat. passion. Passion that had grown over the past hours of the night as he had finally met his pari. She was a sight for sore eyes–the blue of her outfit illuminating her serene aura, pulling him further into her haven as though being tangled in her wraps could shield him from the misfortunes of his actions. He hadn’t anticipated her to be so…alluring–words soft while she took her time to detail her life out to him during their first meeting. It was cute–natural; rare for someone to be transparent with their ambitions, especially with someone like him. Most people avoided their words around him–kept their head turned away–ignored his efforts to blend. Y/N hadn’t. She had spoken to him as though he were just another guest at the ceremony tonight. He wasn't a name whispered through fear to her, nor a man burdened by his reputation.

Just Uzair.

She had called his name so softly–the solace of her voice wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing tight, as though keeping him safe. Because somehow, hearing his name from her lips had felt different. It belonged to her now. In whatever form she chose to give it life–whether she whispered it, laughed it, or scolded it–he would make sure she would always call out for him. 

Like tonight, when she had called him out so carefully, asking him to not nervously rub out the beautiful design she had imprinted on his heart hand, per his request. He wouldn’t dare touch it now, if any–

“Ek kaam kar, haath ke andar hi ghuss ja saale” Hamza muttered, annoyed. The poor groom-to-be somehow voluntold into driving Uzair’s jeep while its owner sat busy admiring the mehndi on his palm for the hundredth time that night, completely unbothered by the new stench that surrounded them.

“Haaye... uske haathon mein na bas jaun” he sighed dreamily, staring so hard at the darkened design that he was beginning to hallucinate her name between the lines.

The jeep came to a screeching halt as Hamza slammed on the brakes, jerking the duo forward and sending them crashing into the dashboard. Uzair instinctively threw his decorated hand against it to catch himself–smudging part of the design in the process, much to his horror. He yanked his hand back immediately, inspecting the damage with growing devastation before whipping around to glare at his incompetent best friend.

“Gaadi nahi chala sakta?! Apne haath-paon pehli baar kaam pe la-”

“Dafa hoja” Hamza interrupted, not even bothering to look at him as he pointed towards the door. “Haveli aa chuki hai..aab jo bhi tere mann me baki hai, apne kamre main sochiyo.”

“Batameez-” Uzair tried to protest, but a sharp, “Utar.” left no room for argument.

“Jaa raha hoon” he huffed, instinctively reaching for the door before pausing “Darwaza toh khol de.” He looked at Hamza expectantly, as if the request were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Kyun?” Hamza scoffed “Tere haathon pe mehndi lagi hai kya, jo apna darwaza khud nahi khol sakta?”

“Mehndi lagi hai, isi liye bol raha hoon.” 

Hamza let out a frustrated groan at the sheer ridiculousness of the night. He had brought Uzair along in good faith, but now, sitting outside the haveli at midnight, he was regretting that decision more with every passing second. Without another word, he yanked the passenger door open, no longer possessing the patience to entertain any more dramatics–Uzair climbed out leisurely. The second both his feet touched the ground, Hamza slammed the door shut, walking back to the driver’s side, reversing the car to leave.

Uzair merely rolled his eyes at Hamza’s dramatics as he headed towards the open haveli gates, ready to embrace what remained of the night–melting into her lingering touch, already surrendering himself to dreams of her again but halted as a nightmare stood in front of him instead. Standing beyond the entrance was Rehman Baloch–dressed in a simple navy kurta, his hair slightly disheveled, as though he'd been settling in for the night before their arrival had disturbed his peace. His gaze shifted from Uzair to the clock mounted on the wall, the glowing digits reading 1:30 A.M., before returning to his younger brother, brows knitting together in quiet confusion. Uzair froze, mind racking up a thousand different ways to avoid interacting with his brother–especially to hide what he was carrying with him. Rehman took a step forward, clearly unimpressed by the late-night commotion. Before he could question, however, an unfamiliar scent drifted through the haveli.

"Yeh khushboo kahan se aa rahi hai?" Rehman asked, sniffing the air with a puzzled frown.

Uzair's eyes widened; the last thing he wanted was for his brother to find out about her. Her, who had settled so quietly within his heart that he still couldn't muster the courage to accept it himself. It was too soon. Too careless. Too... vulnerable.

"Kapdon se aa rahi hogi..." he answered quickly, keeping his hands straight by his side, desperate to conceal her affection on them. "Yalina ki mehndi lag rahi thi na..."

"Achha..." Rehman nodded slowly, a fast yawn escaping his lips indicating his need for sleep

“Bhai, aap sone chalein, der ho gayi hai” Uzair redirected, absentmindedly lifting his hands to lead Rehman inside. The henna adorning his palms caught beneath the warm veranda lights–a sight unmissed as Rehman's narrowed eyes instinctively traced the drying lines. Uzair hiccupped–finding quiet surprise settling across his brother's face, his own expression falling in horror as the realization dawned–he had quite literally exposed himself to be brown-handed. Almost instantly, he tucked both hands behind his back, suddenly finding the threading boots beneath his feet a far more interesting sight.

“Woh kya tha?” Rehman questioned curtly

“Hm?” Uzair blinked, feigning innocence “Kya?”

“Haath dikha.” Rehman extended his hand expectantly, his gaze never leaving Uzair's.

“K-”

“Haath.” 

Uzair meekly extends his hand, a faint tremble accompanying the reluctant gesture. Rehman closed the distance between them, wrapping firm fingers around his wrist and tugging him a step closer before carefully inspecting the confession that lay candidly in front.

“Yeh kya hai?” 

“Aise hi… nikkah ke josh mein mehndi lagwa li” Uzair deflects with an awkward laugh, suddenly too aware of the heat radiating off his own body.

“Josh mein nahi,” Hamza clarified from afar while lazily stepping into the haveli. “Ishq mein.”

Rehman blinked in surprise, his gaze widening as it found Uzair’s avoidant one. He stood there, momentarily bewildered by the thought of his younger brother, the one who had built his life around never needing, never feeling, now standing before him with hands covered with… love. It had to be a joke. A juvenile dare he was simply fulfilling. But Uzair’s sheepish silence narrated otherwise.

“Kaun?” Rehman asked clearly. 

“Yalina ki dost, Y/N” Hamza answered on Uzair’s behalf 

Uzair’s hands stiffened under Rehman’s hold at the sound of her name, his gaze held constant, almost shy, confirming what he had been growing within himself for months. Feelings he had tried, and failed, to outrun. Feelings that threatened to crack the walls of his carefully built armor. Love was scary, dangerous, poisonous–it seeped too deep into the soul, beyond extraction, beyond control, leaving one helpless to its pull once nestled. Uzair had grown up in a world where carrying such weight weakened a man's soul, where loving someone meant handing them the very weapon that could undo you. So how could he be brave enough to welcome something so bright into his life now…knowing it demanded him to lower every defence he'd ever built?

Rehman patted Uzair's back softly, breaking the self-conscious trance–a sign of reassurance: approval. It was warm yet unexpected. 

“Ladki ko pata hai ki nawab unse pyaar karte hain?” he questioned with a smirk, knowing Uzair wasn't the best with words–especially where his heart was concerned.

Hamza lets out a disbelieving snort “Khak pata hai…” he muttered. “Poori raat bas paanch alfaaz nikle honge iske muh se–jinmein aadhe ‘maafiyan’ thi.”

Uzair shot a fiery glare towards his grumbling best friend as Rehman let out a quiet chuckle at the shared antics of the night.

“Tujhe bolne ko kisne bola, kaamine? Aur wapas kyun aaya? Ghar bhagne ki badi jaldi nahi thi?” Uzair snapped back, unhappy with the exposure of his failed charm.

Hamza, however, looked entirely unbothered. “Jaldi toh abhi bhi hai” he shrugged. “Bas yeh poochna tha... agar main teri jeep rakh loon?”

Uzair frowned. “Kyun? Bike pasand nahi aayi shehzade ko?”

“Bike pe Y/N ko nahi ghuma sakta na.” Hamza teased, knowing the impression his statement would leave on the doting boy. Uzair straightened almost instinctively at the sound of her name. Why was his girl Y/N hanging out with Hamza? 

“Izzat se naam le” he pointed, the reprimand leaving his lips before he could stop it. “Hone waali bhabhi hai woh teri.”

The look that passed between Rehman and Hamza didn't go unnoticed. It was subtle, temporary–but loud enough. Uzair Baloch, the man who had spent years convincing the world he was destined to be a lone bird, was standing before them correcting the way another man addressed the woman he loved. He was settling…nesting.

Uzair Baloch had lost his heart to his pari long before she knew she had taken it.

“Ji janab” Hamza nodded, fighting back a grin. “Poori izzat dunga bhabhi ko. Ab jeep ka jawab de.”

“Kis kaam ke liye?”

“Subah nikkah ki taiyariyaan karni hain. Y/N saara sambhaal rahi hai–”

“Main chala jaunga.” The offer came so quickly that Hamza questioned whether he'd heard him correctly. “Kya?”

“Main chala jaunga” Uzair repeated, as though volunteering himself was common for him. “Dulha hai tu. Nikkah se pehle aaraam kar.” Hamza stared at him, brows lifting higher with every passing second. Such generosity from Uzair Baloch was unheard of.

“Nahi... tu itni takleef kyun karega?”

“Bhai hai tu mera.” Uzair clicked his tongue, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand before slinging an arm over Hamza's shoulders. “Tere liye itna bhi nahi kar sakta main?” The question was rhetorical. 

Before Hamza could object again, Uzair had already begun ushering him towards the guest rooms, arm still hooked around his shoulders; dark tinted palms shoved in front of Hamza’s face to show-off the visual manifestation of love. Rehman watched them disappear into the haveli, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he headed back to his nest as well. His younger brother wasn't fooling anyone–this wasn’t his kindness, it was about his devotion… for her. 

Because wherever Y/N was, Uzair would always find his way there.

[Them]

6:30AM

It was early. Far too early for any normal human–but not for her. She was already late. Y/N scrambled through the Jamali mansion, her wet hair clinging to her damp skin, as the wedding decorators rang the doorbell relentlessly. She hurried down the stairs and flung the door open, out of breath, on the brink of apologizing for her tardiness when both her shoulders and her words fell at the sight before her.

Uzair Baloch.

The six-foot man stood at the gates of the Jamali mansion, sunglasses perched lazily over his eyes, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Aap?" she asked, confused, momentarily thrown by his presence. "Aap yahan kya kar rahe hain? Maaf kijiye, humein nahi pata Hamza kahan hai abhi..." The entire sentence tumbled out in one hurried breath, her voice never rising above a whisper.

Uzair's smile faltered at her assumption. What was she talking about? Why wouldn't he be here? He had come to help rescue her.

"Huh?" was all he managed.

"Apne ghar wapas jayein aap–bohot jaldi hai abhi." She moved to close the door on his face, only for his hand to interrupt the attempt.

"Kyun? Main yahan tumhari madad karne aaya hoon!" he replied just as quietly, slipping off his sunglasses to finally get a proper look at her. Oh, how adorable she looked. Fresh hair clung to her puffed face, wisps sticking to her cheeks flushed from stress. Even when she was yelling–or at least attempting to–her voice never sounded harsh to his ears.

She tilted her head slightly at his clarification before stepping out onto the front porch and closing the heavy door behind her. The position gave her a little more authority as she gently nudged him backwards toward the steps, only growing more confused.

"Lekin Hamza aane waale hain..."

He stepped up from where he stood, meeting her on the porch, his gaze leveling with hers as she looked up at him.

"Uski jagah main aa gaya" he corrected gently. "Dulhe ka dost hone ka kuch toh nibhaun."

Her breath left softly as the logic clicked into place. He was standing in front of her to perform the same duties she was carrying out for Yalina. Her eyes drifted away shyly, her heart suddenly feeling heavy as the realization settled in. She had almost turned the poor man away for absolutely no reason.

"...Sorry" she mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

Uzair could only let out a quiet chuckle at the sight of her embarrassment. He took another step closer, their frames now only inches apart, before lowering his voice just enough for only the two of them to hear.

"Ijazat hai toh main aapka ghulam ban jaaun?"

She blinked rapidly before turning her head toward his lowered gaze. "Kya?"

"Aaj..." He smiled to himself. "Main aapka ghulam hoon." Not what he had originally said.

"Jaise bhi kaam karwana ho, main hoon." He offered his services with effortless chivalry.

A nervous laugh escaped her as she tried to figure out whether the sweat gathering at the nape of her neck was because of the Lyari heat... or because of what he had just said.

She swallowed softly before nodding. "Zyada kaam nahi hai–bas bazaar jaana hai a–"

Her sentence was cut short by the arrival of the long-awaited wedding decorators. Her eyes widening immeY/Ntely, every particle of stress returning at once.

"Decorators aa gaye!"

Without thinking, she grabbed Uzair’s arm, shaking him vigorously. "Main–" She looked between him and the workers. "Aap unse baat karein. Main samaan lekar aati hoon."

Just as quickly as she'd grabbed him, she let go and hurried back toward the mansion. Halfway through the doorway, she noticed he still hadn't moved. She spun around, gave him a small nudge toward the decorators, and urged, "Jaao!" Before rushing inside.

~~~~~

Y/N could never get married. Not in Lyari. Not in the heat. And definitely not amidst all the stress that surrounded the ceremonies. She currently stood fuming in the foyer, the decorators turning a deaf ear to her pleas, insisting, "Sir ji ne kaha ki gulaab nahi latkenge." But what did they know? Y/N had had the entire set-up sketched out in her journal for months—designs that Yalina had not only approved of but insisted be present on her special day. The dry weather did little to soothe the growing distaste that sat bitterly on Y/N's tongue. God, why couldn't people just listen to her? She was someone worth hearing out, damn it!

A faint tap on her shoulder tipped her fury over the edge. She whipped around, snapping out a sharp, "Kya hai?!" Only then did she register who had been trying to get her attention.

Uzair withdrew his hand immeY/Ntely, taking note of her frustration before giving her a concerned once-over.

"Aap theek ho?" he asked.

"Kuch theek nahi hai! Koi meri baat sunne ko taiyaar hi nahi hai!" she whined, shoving the open journal in front of his face. "Yeh–yeh sab banaye hain maine. Sab aise hona chahiye, Yalina bhi yeh chahti hai" she ranted, flipping through the carefully sketched pages. "Lekin kisi ko koi farq hi nahi padta?!"

Uzair couldn't help the breathy laugh that escaped him. Her fierceness. Her focus. Her attitude. He found every bit of it endearing as she passionately insisted that everything around her had to be done her way.

This side of her was unseen–fiesty–captivating. 

He stood there trying very hard to take her seriously, though the determined personality she wore clashed entirely with the adorably disheveled state she was in. Her hair was messily gathered into a bun, loose strands escaping with every animated shake of her head. Her dupatta had been knotted securely around her waist, rendered practically useless by the Lyari heat that clung to everyone working around them. But most importantly… Her eyes. They held the smallest trace of hurt. Just a fraction. Yet it didn't escape Uzair as she flailed her hands through yet another complaint.

It wasn't a weight he ever wanted her eyes to carry. He'd turn over every stone if it meant keeping that silent promise to himself. His laugh caught her off guard mid-rant.

She stopped abruptly, her expression falling into a frown. "Aapko hansi aa rahi hai?"

"Nahi, bilkul nahi." He cleared his throat, glancing away as he attempted to reclaim the stoicism he'd just lost.

"Main baat karoon?" he offered, already knowing that his word would likely be the last one spoken.

She scoffed, having already given up on the decorators. Snapping her journal shut, she hugged it tightly against her chest. "Koshish kar lein... lekin munh pe jab mana kar dein, woh mujhe mat hi batana." She walked away, convinced that not even his words could move their stubborn resolve.

Uzair watched her go before making his way up to the terrace, quietly amused by her premature complaints as he searched for the man responsible for her sour mood. A thoughtful hum settled in the back of his mind as he imagined a thousand and one ways to keep Y/N happy. The first fifty involved wearing his heart on his sleeve–ready for her to take whenever she wished. The remaining ideas...Well. They were an assortment of imagined husbandly duties and affections far too degenerate for an innocent crush to be entertaining.

By the time he reached the roof of the mansion, the guilty man had already been found and firmly dealt with. The workers had begun arranging the rose garlands exactly as Y/N had envisioned. It should have been enough.

Yet, even from above, he caught another glimpse of her quiet frustration.

"Chacha, please aise mat karein... sketch toh dekh lijiye ek baar..."

His gaze drifted downward until he found her.

One hand rested firmly on her hip while the other hovered above her brow, shielding her eyes from the harsh morning sun. Despite the relentless heat, she continued correcting every misplaced flower and every overlooked detail, blinking rapidly whenever the sunlight became too much to bear. Sweat beaded along her forehead before trailing down to the nape of her neck, her skin catching the sunlight in spite of the unforgiving weather.

She was exhausting herself… All for someone else's happiness.

The least he could do was make her a little more comfortable.

Uzair straightened where he stood, the loose rose garland hanging carelessly from his hand as he began taking slow, measured steps across the terrace.

Every anxious shuffle she made below...He mirrored. She drifted left, lifting her arm against the glare. He shifted left too, positioning himself between her and the blazing sun. She wandered back to the right. Without hesitation, he followed, carefully keeping his shadow aligned with hers from above. Eventually...Y/N paused. The glare had disappeared. Her brows furrowed ever so slightly before she glanced upward.

There he was. Standing on the terrace with the sun blazing behind him. Rose garlands rested loosely around his neck and draped over one arm, another hanging from the crook of his elbow as though he'd forgotten he was meant to be decorating. His back faced the harsh sunlight entirely, taking every ounce of its heat upon himself.

His eyes… They weren't watching the flowers. They were watching her. Softly. The realization settled over her all at once. He had been following her. Shielding her. Without saying a single word.

A shy smile slowly found its way onto her lips, quiet gratitude melting into something just a little more dangerous.

Something that looked suspiciously like admiration. Seeing it, Uzair couldn't help but smile back. The corners of his eyes crinkled, his chest growing impossibly lighter at the sight of her happiness.

"Bibi, ab phool achha lag raha hai na?" The decorator's voice broke through the silence, pulling them both from the quiet trance they'd found themselves in.

Souls still lingering in each other's gaze.

"Achha lag raha hai" Y/N answered without hesitation–eyes never leaving Uzair’s.

10:30AM

Uzair hated shopping. Never stepped foot into the crowded markets unless he was dragged against his will–yet he drove his jeep to Saddar with his angel sitting next to him. She didn’t have to know about his dislikes, or likes, or anything relating to him–as long as he could keep the smile on her face. A hand rested on the steering wheel as the other itched to hold hers. She looked a lot more content with the day from what it had started as. The journal dearly protected on her lap as she looked out the open window to the awoken streets of the city. Hair catching the slight hot wind, chest rising in relief. He would make a million more shopping trips if it meant seeing her like this. 

~~~~~

The duo walked through the narrow lanes of the shops together. Silent. Peeking. Yearning. Uzair matched her glances every few seconds, quickly looking away each time he caught her looking up at him. Words felt too dangerous to say aloud, even if they kept lingering on the edge of both their tongues. The third time it happened, he couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

The contrast between her fierce presence and her quiet awkwardness was disarming–making it more tempting for him to coax her out of it.

He continued walking, hands folded behind his back, admiring the stalls arranged side by side. The ceremonial handlooms tugged at his thoughts as he subconsciously began noting pieces he liked for when their wedding would happen.

“Gajre bohot sundar hain na?” He said it casually, turning slightly toward her–but only silence answered him. Unexpected. He stopped and turned fully. She wasn’t there. His brows furrowed immeY/Ntely. Where had she gone? Was she okay? Had he lost her?

Panic rose sharply in his chest as his eyes searched through the crowded, compact lanes for any sign of her. He pushed through people, scanning every stall.

Where was she? Where was she? Where was she?

He should have been more careful. Should have kept an arm around her. Should have never brought her here. God, he hated sh–And then he saw her. She was standing in her own little world, eyes wide with quiet wonder as she looked at the jewelry stall in front of her.

He pushed through the crowd and reached her within moments, stopping right beside her–relief and fear still tangled in his chest.

Without thinking, he grabbed her arm and turned her toward him, ready to scold her–but softened instantly when she lifted something in front of them.

“Jhumke kaise lag rahe hain?” she asked.

Him.She was asking him. Innocent expectation sat across her face as she waited for his answer.

“Achhe hain” he nodded, his voice steadier now as her expression brightened at his approval.

“Aaj raat ke liye loon?” she turned back toward the stall, placing the earrings down and continuing to browse the other pieces.

“Woh kyun mujhse pooch rahi ho? Achhe hain toh le lo” he replied, following her gaze; quietly memorising her choices, her preferences, her likes.

For the future. Of course. She turned the corner of the stall, humming softly at his answer, unaware that Uzair had already picked up the earrings and handed them to the shopkeeper for purchase.

“Soch rahi hoon… kamai ke paise hain” she admitted, glancing over gold necklaces–her eyes briefly flickering toward him, not registering what he had already done.

She liked gold. Noted.

Y/N finally looked up, the bubble of her focus dissolving back into reality. She adjusted the journal in her arms and walked back toward Uzair, who had been quietly watching her.

“Chalein? Abhi thoda aur samaan lena baaki hai” she said, already moving ahead again, slipping back into her pace.

Uzair shook his head in amused disbelief and gently tugged her dupatta from behind, stopping her mid-step. She faltered as he caught up to her, carefully shifting her to the inner side of the lane. Protecting her—from traffic, from passing glances, from uncertainty.

“Ainda bhaagne ki koshish mat karna” he said quietly.

His hand slipped lower, the other still hidden in his pocket where her gift rested, as he intertwined his fingers with hers. She glanced down at their joined hands for only a moment. Then up at him.

“Aab chalo.” Uzair nudged her forward.

2:30PM

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. But what if you are closer than ever before? 

It was raining. Unpredicted, unprepared, unadulterated.

Uzair and Y/N had been hoping to walk back to the jeep from Saddar when the water droplets ambushed them, forcing the duo into a quiet chai shop as nature conspired around them relentlessly.

~~~~~

Uzair sat across from Y/N in a cozy booth at the back corner of the shop. Two terracotta cups of chai steamed between them.

He leaned back comfortably, legs slightly apart under the table, arms resting across the seat behind him. His drenched hair dripped faint droplets onto his already damp kurta.

He watched her intently, eyes following her soaked dupatta, the same one she had used to shield them when the rain first started. Now she was untangling her hair strand by strand, fully focused on the task in front of her.

“Chai thandi ho jaayegi” he mumbled, picking up his own cup and sliding hers closer to her.

“Dheyaan se. Y/Nry pe gir jaayegi toh?” She schooled slightly, reaching forward to grab her belonging, but Uzair got to it first.

“Itna pyaar kyun hai is kitaab se? Padhaku ho?”

“Haar kitabi padhaku nahi hota” she rolled her eyes, stretching her hand forward to take the Y/Nry back. But Uzair settled deeper into his seat instead, already opening it and scanning through the pages, trying to understand her world.

“Yeh sab kya hai, Y/N?” he asked softly, curiosity in his tone as he admired her drawings and the vision behind each page.

“Kuch sketches hain, thode se khwaab hain, baaki projects” she shrugged, suddenly feeling exposed, her confidence slipping into quiet shyness.

“Aur yeh?” His voice softened as he looked at the faded sketch of a house.

No, not just a house. A home. It looked warm, lived-in, and safe. The kind of place he could almost imagine building a future in. A place that felt like it already belonged to them.

She sipped her chai carefully, focused on not burning her tongue.

“Kya?” she asked quietly.

He turned the Y/Nry gently in his hands and slid it across the table toward her. She placed her cup down.

Her eyes widened as she saw the page. It was a blueprint of her dream home. She had drawn it when she was thirteen, when she first discovered her love for architecture. Every detail was there. The tiles, the curtains, even the paint colours carefully chosen. She had not looked at it since graduation. Not because she had forgotten it.

But because she didn’t know if she would ever be able to build it. Not alone. Not without support. Not without love. How could she tell him that this wasn’t just a design?

It was a haven. A haven meant to be shared with the love of her life.

“Yeh…” she swallowed, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly nervous to be seen so clearly.

“Mera ghar hai. Terah saal ki thi jab draw kiya tha. Aise hi” she shrugged, unable to fully explain the weight behind it.

“Apna ghar aise hi banana chahti hoon jab mera nikkah ho jayega” she said softly, smiling meekly as she closed the Y/Nry and slipped it beside her under the booth.

Uzair watched her face as she spoke. The softness in her expression. The quiet sadness beneath it. The way she tried to hide it all too quickly afterward. He picked up his chai and took a slow sip, though his thoughts stayed with her words. She wanted to build a home. He would build her a home. 

The rain outside softened over time. Inside, the booth felt smaller–quieter. He noticed how her body had leaned slightly into exhaustion, yet she still sat close enough that it felt like she was inviting him into her silence.

“Baarish ruk rahi hai… nikal sakte hain” she whispered, tired, a little unguarded.

“Ghar ki taraf?” he asked.

7:30PM

The Jamali Mansion was bustling, little kids running around the foyer and upper balcony, groomsmen dancing on the floor, waiting to celebrate their friend’s beginning as a husband. Mrs. Jamali moved around the helpers, preparing everything for Yalina. The bridal outfit glowed under the bedroom lights. Y/N stood behind her best friend as she got ready, keeping her tears at bay.

Where had the time gone?

~~~~~

Uzair stood nervously in front of the guest room mirror, fidgeting with the buttons of his kurta. His pockets felt heavy with a secret, something that held his feelings for her in physical form. What had he been thinking when he bought it for her? What if she misunderstood his effort? Or worse, what if she rejected it? Why had he decided to do this tonight?

The buttons sat open on his chest, revealing the span of his collarbone. A navy kurta clinging to his lean frame, sleeves tight around his biceps and tapering slightly toward his waist as he inhaled in short, uneven breaths in front of the mirror.Uzair adjusted his hair again, the messy strands refusing to settle, soft baby hairs falling onto his forehead. He let out another sigh, hands slightly unsteady as he gave himself a quick, unconvincing thumbs up in the mirror before finally walking toward her door.

Uzair stood outside her bedroom and knocked softly, hands wrecked with nerves, the mehendi stain reminding him of what he was chasing. Funny, she hadn’t pointed it out once. He was about to knock again when a faint “Andar aa sakte ho” slipped through.

He opened the door carefully, stepping in one foot at a time, eyes fixed on the carpet’s pattern instead of searching for her, nerves dulling his sense of direction as he kept moving forward with his head lowered.

“Kaun hai?” she whispered, a soft rustle following her question.

“Uzair” he responded, finally lifting his gaze as the room appeared empty. “Y/N?” he called out, confused at where her voice was coming from.

Y/N let out a relieved “Shukar hai”  as she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a white saree with maroon embroidery along the edges. Her hair was left open, soft waves falling through it, her hands adorned with simple mehendi and a few bangles.

She looked nothing short of ethereal. Uzair froze. His breath vanished before his thoughts could follow.

“Ache waqt aa gaye, tumhari madad chahiye thi” she said while walking closer, heels clicking softly against the carpet.

“Kaise madad?” he asked hoarsely, not trusting his voice to stay steady when she looked like that. His grip suffocating the present in his pocket.

“Saree ki dori bandh do please” she requested innocently, unaware of what the words did to him at that moment.

“M-main? Mujhe na–” he stuttered.

“Please Uzair” she said softer now. “Mera haath nahi jaa raha.”

Uzair couldn’t help but nod. She smiled as she turned away from him, her back facing his chest as the blouse’s dori hung untied. He closed the distance between them in a short step, chest tight as his mind tried to settle on how close they were. He gulped as he lifted his shaky hands to move her hair to the side, fingertips grazing against her soft neck. Her skin was cool, a stark contrast to his warm fingers, which moved down carefully until they reached the dori. He felt her back straighten in response, the air in the room suddenly still as the two spoke only through silence. He leaned his head down slightly, close enough to meet her shoulder blade as he tied a strong knot, shallow breaths escaping and brushing against her skin. Her chest rose in uneven breaths, his touch unsteady, almost hesitant. He let go of the dori but couldn’t bring himself to fully step back, his hand lingering for a moment before dragging away from her back–snaking it down her side until it lay flat across her waist. 

Y/N seized at his touch, the feeling burning through her skin, her head leaning back against his chest as Uzair dropped his head onto her shoulder simultaneously. Y/N gulped, breaths sputtering as her chest rose and fell while Uzair caressed further down, palm flat against her torso, his hand meeting hers as he intertwined their fingers, keeping them connected and close by her stomach. He pressed closer near the side of her neck, her head tilting slightly to give him access; moment charged–overwhelming– tempting. He squeezed their hands and opened her palm, bringing his other hand across to drop a little bag into her hold while he prepped feverish kisses along the valley of her neck and jaw. 

“Uzair…” she breathes out, her voice unsure whether it belonged to his touch or the gift in her hand.

“Shhh” he whispered– placing his final kiss behind her ear, beard grazing through as he pulls away relucatantly–casting a smirky glance at her frozen frame before leaving her room. 

Y/N stood still, hair wisps pushed back, her body rigid at what had just happened in the room. She nervously glanced down at what he had left in her hand, presence still lingering, touches jolting through her nerves like electricity. She unclasped her tight palms, the bag crinkling in her hold, the only other sound in the room besides her uneven breaths. Gold peeked through the layers–jhumkis making their presence known. The same ones she had loved a couple of hours ago–tunknowing of the fact that he had listened to her–bought them for her without a second thought. 

As fireworks burst into the night outside, something inside her began to sparkle within her as well.

10:30PM

Y/N had never experienced love directly– but she would be lying if she said she had never been surrounded by it.

Her mother, who no matter the hour, stayed awake with her whenever she cried over her 2D drawings. Her father, who always listened without weighing her down with social expectations. Yalina, who had been by her side since elementary school and taught Y/N to love herself before chasing anything else in life.

The same Yalina who had once been a free spirit had now found her destination with Hamza. Who now sat modestly on her side of the curtain, the same one decorated with her favorite flowers, the ones that had sparked multiple arguments between Y/N and the decorators that very morning. Her veil rested over her head as a faint smile formed while she looked down at the darkened mehendi, eyes fixed on Hamza’s name.

~~~~~

Y/N stood slightly back facing the parted curtains as the maulvi read the nikkah–getting a clear view of both admirers. Mrs. Jamali held back her tears by the bride’s side while Dongaa and Rehman Bhai patted Hamza’s shoulder in pride. The contrast was striking yet warm, two lives quietly preparing to become one.

One. Who would she feel that unity with?Could it be him?Would he-?

“Kya soch rahi ho” Uzair whispered standing right beside her gaze still on the ceremony as he pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Sab kuch kitna khoobsurat lag raha hai… jaise kamre mein jaadu ho” she said mesmerized.

“Kamre mein nahi, tumhare haathon mein hai” he replied softly, turning toward her. “Saari mehnat tumhari hi toh hai.”

“Aisa–” she began turning toward him but stopped mid sentence as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. (his) Her jhumkas clinking in their world. Its light holding their unspoken confessions.

“Shhh” he calmed her, “Kaafi pyaari lag rahi ho tum” he whispered his hand still near her ear, eyes lingering on hers as the nikkah continued behind them.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, unable to explain what she was feeling anymore. Her mind clouded. Her emotions unsteady. The past two weeks had been nothing but a whirlwind. A whirlwind named Uzair Baloch.

Where had he come from? How had he found her? Why had he stayed? Why did she want him to stay? Why could she imagine him inside the home she once drew? Why did she want to walk Saddar’s narrow lanes with him even at seventy five when their steps would be slow? Why did she want two cups of chai always shared across the same table? Why did she want him?

Uzair.Uzair.Uzair–he was everywhere!

“Uzair” she whispered mindlessly 

“Hm?” His hand dropped as nodded at her to continue, fully pulling her out of her spiral. She could not believe she had let her thoughts slip into words.

She opened her mouth but closed it in defeat when no words came out. She tried again when Mrs. Jamali gently called out for Y/N, ushering her toward Yalina, who was already insisting on her best friend’s presence as the ijab began.

Uzair followed, standing beside Hamza in support but his attention never left the girl across the curtain. The words being echoing through the hall but neither fully present. Their longing heavy–certain.

The maulvi continued speaking but Uzair failed to hear him anymore-eyes glued only on Y/N. As the question filled the room, Uzair lifted his hand slightly, pointing towards her and then to his heart. Not for anyone else to see but her and mouthed softly as an answer 

“Qubool hai.”

Y/N tilted her head in confusion, trying to understand his gesture from across the curtain, softly mouthing her own “Qubool hai?” when prompted by the maulvi.

A fleeting pause followed, enough for something to shift as the maulvi repeated the words in the hall and Uzair only smirked. A boyish, knowing smile. There was no hesitation in him now, only one declaration that had already been decided long before this moment.

“Qubool hai.” Uzair mouthed confidently. Eyes never starting hers.  

The final words sank into the hall as the crowd began celebrating the new;y wedded Hamza and Yalina yet Y/N sat stiff– breath caught halfway while her mind caught up with what Uzair had just done. 

~~~~~

Hamza stepped forward to greet his wife–Uzair following a moment later, crossing the nikkah boundary without hesitation. The noise of the hall diluting around them as he stopped in front of Y/N, who now stood in a corner. Close enough that everything else felt unnecessary.

A quiet grin present while he lifted her face–his nishaani clinking when she finally looked up at him.

He held  his decorated palms in hers, the mehendi deep across his skin like her love had always found a way onto him too. The design carrying the weight since their first exchange. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight. She hid her face in his chest, too flustered to respond, as the celebration continued around them, the world moving on while they stayed in their own quiet pause.

Uzair laced their bare ring fingers together and leaned down–murmuring a promise.

“Mubaarak ho, Mrs. Baloch”

[Epilogue] 

The rain always had a funny way of following Uzair and Y/N, the afternoon of Yalina's wedding, the night of their reception, and now. Now, as they drove through the quiet roads outside the city, December cast a cozy haze across the skies, the wind carrying a light, crisp chill.

The jeep was serene, windows rolled down, a soft ghazal playing in the background as Y/N stared outside, lost in thought over what exactly her husband was up to now. Uzair hummed along to the melody, his left hand resting on the steering wheel, fingers drumming absentmindedly while his right lay comfortably over her thigh across the console. They had been driving for nearly an hour, and Y/N was beginning to grow restless from not knowing where they were headed.

"Hum kahan jaa rahe hain?" she sighed again, continuing to look out the window.

"Bas aur paanch minute" he replied, stealing a quick glance at her, bundled up in one of his kurtas and a pair of loose pants, her delicate frame swallowed by the fabric.

"Mujhe bathroom jaana hai" she huffed.

"Phir se?!" he blurted instinctively, only to be met with a glare sharp enough to make him regret speaking.

"Munh mat khulwao mera" she muttered as the jeep rumbled to a slow stop in the middle of nowhere.

"Tum mujhe ek ghante baad jungle mein lekar aaye ho?" Y/N complained, looking around at the empty landscape. There wasn't another soul in sight, only fields of wildflowers stretching as far as the eye could see.

Uzair simply chuckled. He unbuckled his seatbelt, stepped out of the jeep, and left her sitting there.

"Uzair?! Ka—"

"Aa raha hoon, wahin ruko!" he called, making his way to the passenger side. He opened the door and offered her his hand, which she confidently ignored, choosing to help herself instead. Much to Uzair's disdain.

He shot her a quiet try me look, stopping her in her tracks before gently taking her hand and helping her out. Her free hand instinctively rested over the growing swell of her stomach, the little life that carried their love.

Uzair silently took the lead, gently guiding her through the gardens, a marble pathway stretching beneath their feet. Every few steps he glanced back at a cutely waddling Y/N, cheeks puffed in annoyance, movements slower now with every passing month.

"Kya kiya tumne Uzair?" she whined, unable to see an end in sight as he continued walking ahead, his frame blocking her view.

He only smirked. "Khud hi dekh lo." Stepping aside, he revealed a home.

A familiar home. Her home.

The one she had sketched when she was thirteen. The one she had shown him over two cups of chai. The one she had quietly tucked away inside her journal, never believing it would exist beyond faded pencil lines. Now it stood before her. Physical. Alive. Theirs.

"Ye... yeh sab kya hai Uzair?" Her lips quivered as tears gathered in her eyes, the weight of it all settling heavily in her chest. She couldn't believe it.

"Thodi der ho gayi…" he replied simply, taking her hand once more and leading her inside.

Y/N stood in silent awe as the dreams of her thirteen-year-old self surrounded her. Every corner, every detail, every carefully placed line had been brought to life exactly as she had imagined them all those years ago. Original in every way that mattered.

Uzair watched quietly. His happiness wasn't found in the house. It was found in her. In the wonder that softened her face. In the grateful sheen glazing her eyes. In the sight of his wife carrying their child beneath the home she had once only dreamed of.

He gently nudged her forward, guiding her toward a secluded room at the end of the hallway. Her slow, careful steps delayed them only a little before he reached for a cream-colored door and pushed it open.

A nursery– Warm. Quiet. Filled with memories waiting to be made. Y/N couldn't hold herself together anymore. The tears came freely.

She ran her fingers across the tiny crib tucked into the corner, smiled through blurred vision at the stuffed animals scattered across the shelves, before her eyes landed on a frame resting in the center of the room. She stopped. Inside it sat something far more precious than any photograph. Her sketch. The original drawing from the back of her journal. The one Uzair had quietly discovered that rainy afternoon in the chai shop. The same day he had made a promise to himself. That one day... He would build her home.

Y/N stood frozen, hands resting on her stomach protectively when she felt an enveloping heat comfort from the back–Uzair’s hand finding their way back to Y/N, resting on top of her over their baby. She leaned into his touch, tears flowing freely as he swayed to relax her…his eyes also caught on the little frame of promise. 

Uzair pressed a fleeting kiss to the crown of her head as Y/N whispered a thousand watery "thank you's" into the air…

While he silently thanked God for blessing him with his meher.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

(Older) Brother's best friend!Uzair who has been friends with Y/N's brother since 3rd grade. The duo grew inseparable, and Uzair Baloch is now practically an honorary member of their family.

Best friend's younger sister!Y/N who shares a five-year age gap with her brother and that demon of a man he calls his brother-Uzair Baloch. If you ask her, they're two steps away from seeing God in person.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who detested Y/N growing up-she was a leech on all their plans and a mommy's-girl tattletale who ratted both Uzair and her brother out at every minor inconvenience. Ulfat bhabhi once found out, and Uzair was sentenced to two hours of standing against the haveli pillar with his hands raised. Y/N found that very amusing and giggled every time she walked past him.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who matured and learned how to shut up, especially after Uzair once caught her sneaking out to a party while he was staying the night over. She had to BEG him to keep quiet, and he blackmailed her into giving up her snitching antics in return. A deal was made(much to her dismay).

Brother's best friend!Uzair who is now 26, good for nothing, and always rotting at Y/N's house with her equally good-for-nothing brother. He makes it a habit to barge into her room, muttering a quick, "Saab theek, rondu?" menacingly before exiting and leaving the door wide open. He loved seeing her fluster over this childhood nickname.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who is 21, in school to become a journalist, and always cooped up in her room—frustratedly grumbling a quiet "manhoos" every time Uzair barges into her space. God, she hated that nickname yet awaited his voice like clockwork every day. It's familiar, light... hers to listen to.

___________________________________________________________________________

Brother's best friend!Uzair who is entering his best friend's house lazily at 10:00 p.m.—head engrossed in his phone, snickering to himself as he attempts to make his way upstairs.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who is screaming at the top of her lungs from the staircase. "AMMI?!" "BHAI?!" "Kahan gayab ho gaye sab?" she whines as she paces between the bedrooms upstairs, a sharp tinkle echoing through the silent house.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who manages to ignore her usual complaints until the familiar tinkle gets closer and he's bluntly shoved past—the impact smacking into his shoulder as he stumbles off-guard.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who finally snaps towards her, pissed at the crash. "Dekh ke chala kar" he grumbles, annoyed.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who doesn't even spare him a glance, offering an unsolicited "Raste se haat" as she continues her search through the house.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who follows her movement with sharp eyes, watching how casually she brushes past him. Rude. "Phir shuru tera rona dhona?" he calls after her.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who halts in her steps and swiftly turns around to narrow her eyes at him, his taunt adding to her restlessness “Gharwale kahan hai?” she interrogates.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who eggs her on further;shrugs and snarkily snides, "Tere se paak kar bhaag gaye."

Brother's best friend!Uzair who takes a small step closer, taking her in. Mesmerizing. Luscious hair straightened and flowing down her back, decorated with tiny strands of gold tinsel that glimmer every time she moves. A black halter dress hugging her frame, accentuating the elegant line of her shoulders and neck. Uzair wouldn't mind decorating that canvas with his mark.  

Brother's best friend!Uzair who suddenly finds himself wondering when exactly she grew up.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who frowns at his statement and decides to ignore it while turning back around to look for help but is hiccuped by his commentary again “Kyun pareshaan ho rahi hai?” she turns a deaf ear to him.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who is unimpressed by her attitude and yanks her back–his grasp burning against her cool arm. Even with heeled boots adding a few inches to her height tonight, she still has to look up to meet his suspicious gaze. His heart betrays him at the sight of her wide doe eyes. "Kya hua?" he nudges gently.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who sighs “Choodiyan pehene main madat chaiye thi” she softly shakes the stack of gold bangles that were clutched in her hands. 

Brother's best friend!Uzair who can't help but chuckle at her innocent admission–face portraying the harshest of heartbreaks when the reality was far less dramatic. He uncurls her grip and takes her bangles in his hands. 

Best friend's sister!Y/N who is growing confused now–already too late in the night to deal with his taunts.. She extends her hand to snatch her accessories but misses.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who takes her delicate wrist into his warm, slightly rough hold and carefully slides the bangles down her hand. His thumb brushes absentmindedly across her knuckles, distracting her from the pressure of the fragile glass.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who is appalled by his tenderness. Eyes glued to his focused face: the way his brows draw together in concentration, the slight tension in his jaw as he bites the inside of his cheek to avoid snapping the bangle. Unfair. It is incredibly unfair how hot he looks. Because Uzair Baloch has spent years being annoying. Arrogant. A devil in her life. So why had he chosen tonight to look like that? God help her.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who is trying to keep his jitters at bay. Why had he decided to be chivalrous at this very moment? Why did helping her wear her choodiyan feel so right? Like he’d spend the rest of his life buying her more. Helping her wear them. Listening to their familiar chime echo through a home that would be theirs. He nearly drops the bangle at the thought. Absolutely not.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who slides the final bangle into place and immediately catches her staring. He should probably look away. Instead he finds himself staring right back. For goodness sake, she was his best friend's little sister! A leech.A tattletale. A nuisance- a nuisance he’d happily keep forever.

Best friend's sister!Y/N who notices him catching her stare and quickly retrieves her hand back, the bangles clinking both of them out of their trance. She clears her throat and turns away from him, making a dash for the front door. She could not deal with any more of him tonight. 

Brother's best friend!Uzair who inhales sharply, trying to wrestle his emotions back under control, and yells out one final warning. "Ghar jaldi, rondu, warna."

Best friend's sister!Y/N who scoffs at his threat, not bothering to acknowledge his territorial demand as she snaps back with a sharp, "Meri marzi!" The gold bangles clink against one another as she disappears through the front door. The sound surrounding him for the night. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Best friend's sister!Y/N who sulks back home barely an hour later. Head hanging low, makeup intact, spirits thoroughly diminished. She drags herself upstairs, careless of the retired house, only wanting to collapse into bed and let her thoughts consume her.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who notices her defeated entrance from the kitchen, posture immediately straightening. Why did she look so upset? Had something happened tonight? Was she alright?

Best friend's sister!Y/N who is sitting at the edge of her bed—boots discarded, hair gathered into a messy ponytail, fingers fidgeting restlessly as she loses herself further to what was said tonight. She doesn't notice when a familiar figure quietly appears in her doorway.

Brother's best friend!Uzair who abandons his mischief, already wondering if he had some heads to bash. How dare anyone bother his the girl? He wants to simply check-up on her, but the second he catches sight of her miserable expression, he finds himself stepping further into the room- arms crossed against his chest as he stands across from her "Jaldi aagai, rondu…Sab theek?"

Best friend's sister!Y/N who breaks from her trance- immediately looking up but regrets doing so. A fitted white shirt hugs his body snuggly, highlighting his defined chest, muscles flexing under the sleeves that clung tightly against his skin–-her brother’s plaid pajama pants hanging dangerously low on his hip, sneaking her a glimpse of his happy trail. She shakes her head to dismiss his worry and mutters a weak “Saab theek hai”

Brother's best friend!Uzair who doesn't believe a single word. Arms falling to his sides as he takes another step closer. "Main kuch nahi bolunga" he promises. "Mujhe bata sakti hai tu."

Best friend's sister!Y/N who finally meets his worried gaze. The way his head dips slightly to keep his attention entirely on her. The way his voice loses its usual teasing edge. The concern. She bites her bottom lip in hesitation before quietly asking “Mujhe woh sikha de..”

Brother’s best friend!Uzair who furrows his eyebrows in confusion “Kya sika dun?”

Best friend's sister!Y/N who looks up at him from her place on her bed and gulps before clarifying “Woh…ladkon ko maza… khush kaise karte hain.?”

Brother’s best friend!Uzair who is taken aback at her ask. What. The. F-. his eyes widen as his brain confirms that his best friend’s little sister had just asked him to teach her how to pleasure men “Dimaag kharab ho gaya hai tera?!” he whisper-yells at her, turning towards the door in an attempt to escape the conversation. “Chup chap soja. Fazool khayal apne iss kharab soch se nikal.”

Best friend's sister!Y/N who hastily moves from her bed and catches his arm to stop him from leaving. Eyes begging for him to stay and help her out..why couldnt he just do this for her??? She just wants to learn and be more experienced in life! Her lips tremble slightly in persuasion as she insists “Please…mujhe kuch nahi aata. Main bas-”

Brother’s best friend!Uzair who interrupts her before his restraint gives out completely. “Y/N, na-”

Best friend's sister!Y/N who doesn’t let him finish his sentence, softly whining in desperation, “Uzair, please.”

Brother’s best friend!Uzair who can’t turn away from her hopeful look, her wide eyes full of need, her breath uneven, her grip still steady against his arm. The curve of her soft neck tempting his sinful ministrations Shit. Shit. Shit. He was losing himself to her pleading. He had to control himself. 

Brother’s best friend!Uzair who shuts his eyes to regain some control over his senses, hoping to blink away her naive look. He couldn’t.

Brother’s best friend!Uzair who silently asks for forgiveness from God; from his best friend– her gold bangles tinkling in the heavy room as he snakes his fervent hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her face closer to his–crashing his lips onto hers. 

He shouldn’t have done this…but then again…she had to learn somehow.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Bestfriend!Uzair who is training Y/N how to use basic weaponry in the Baloch factory at 11:30 PM while a storm crashes outside because, according to him, "yeh zamana bahut kharab ho chuka hai."

Bestfriend!Y/N who yawns right in his face because this teaching moment could have waited for literally any other day. It's not like she's about to get jumped tonight.

Bestfriend!Uzair who is unimpressed by her slouched posture, damp hair from the rain, and heavy-lidded eyes that keep fighting sleep. Without another word, he grabs her by the sleeve and drags her deeper into the empty Baloch factory.

Bestfriend!Y/N who stands awkwardly in the middle of firearms while Uzair rants about different types of self-defense ammunition suitable for "someone like her" (whatever that's supposed to mean).

Bestfriend!Uzair who catches her dozing off while standing, clicks his tongue in annoyance, and fires a training round into a nearby target just to startle her awake."Uth aur dhyan se sun.." he says as she nearly jumps out of her skin. "Hamesha chaukana rhe. Kabhi bi, koi bhi aa sakte hai tere aas paas."

Bestfriend!Y/N who jerks upright immediately, eyes wide before narrowing into a glare aimed directly at Uzair, who is doing a terrible job of holding back his laughter.

Bestfriend!Y/N who doesn't hesitate to step forward to slap him. "Bada maza aa raha hai tujhe, kaamine" she grits out.

Bestfriend!Uzair who catches her wrist before her hand can connect and simply places a pistol in her palms instead. "Try kar."

Bestfriend!Y/N who stares down at the weapon and then back at him dumbfounded. "Tujhe goli maar doon?"

Bestfriend!Uzair who shrugs "Safety pe hai… Koshish kar ke dekh." 

Bestfriend!Y/N who accidentally clicks the safety off while fumbling with the weapon and sends a shot off into the empty space beside him as he moves–making him flinch back on instinct. Whoops, she shrugs.

Bestfriend!Uzair who snaps immediately, jaw tight. “Kuch karne ke layak hai tu?! Mujhe lag jaati toh? Idhar aa.” he orders. 

Bestfriend!Y/N who drags her feet as she walks toward him, pistol still twirling in her hands carelessly. 

Bestfriend!Uzair who grabs her wrist and yanks her into him and turns her around in one motion, her back pressed firmly against his chest as he sets her facing the empty space ahead.

Bestfriend!Y/N whose breath hitches as he locks her into place, his warmth caging her in and seeping through her cold skin.

Bestfriend!Uzair who takes her soft, cold hand in his, adjusts her grip, and wraps his fingers over hers before lifting the pistol toward the target ahead.

Bestfriend!Uzair who leans down slightly, voice gravely, low as he corrects her hold, speaking right beside her ear.

Bestfriend!Uzair who can faintly smell her due to their proximity–rain and roses. Gentle, enveloping in a way he cannot give into. Ever. 

Bestfriend!Y/N who freezes as his face moves even closer, his whisper grazing her ear and sending a shiver down her spine; the steady weight of his hands fully enclosing hers. She gulps.

Bestfriend!Uzair who slides his other hand to her waist to steady her, palm splayed across her stomach, his touch burning through the fabric and making her stiffen.

Bestfriend!Uzair who whispers something low under his breath, his beard faintly grazing at the nape of her neck as he adjusts her stance.

Bestfriend!Y/N who hears nothing. Too lost in the feeling of his calloused hands guiding her, the weight of his palm at her waist grounding her in place. His words brush her ear, but none of them register. They’re too close.

Bestfriend!Uzair who doesn’t notice how still she’s gone and pulls the trigger anyway, the sound startling Y/N back to reality.

Bestfriend!Y/N who jerks back in surprise at the shot, her body recoiling further into his hold.

Bestfriend!Uzair who instinctively tightens his hold to keep her from stumbling. For a second, neither of them move or breathe. 

Bestfriend!Y/N whose eyes are wide, heart suddenly thudding loud enough that it may just burst out of her chest.

Bestfriend!Uzair who finally realizes she's not responding to a word he's saying. "Y/N?" He leans down to look at her.

Bestfriend!Uzair who follows her gaze only to find her staring determinedly ahead, at the far wall of the factory where the bullet has pierced through the target's heart. A smile tugs at his mouth. "Dar gayi?"

Bestfriend!Y/N who blinks back to reality and scoffs immediately. “Bilkul nahi.” The lie is obvious as she pulls free from his hold and turns to face him defiantly.

Bestfriend!Uzair who leans down slightly, voice dropping–teasing, faces inches apart. “Jhooti.”

Bestfriend!Y/N who nearly forgets how to speak. God. Since when did his voice sound like that?

Bestfriend!Uzair who keeps creeping closer, both their eyes dilated, the air between them suddenly thick with tense desire. One wrong move…

Bestfriend!Y/N who places the gun under his chin, stopping his antics and whispers “Dobara meri raat kharab karne ki koshish ki…” she digs the barrel deeper into his skin, slightly lifting his face to meet her eye-to-eye “to goli tere aandar hogi” 

Bestfriend!Uzair who flashes a cocky smirk at her confidence, proud of it. He raises his hands in mock surrender, eyes never leaving hers, and takes a heavy step back. An airy chuckle breathed out.

Bestfriend!Y/N who slams the gun against his chest, turns around with a huff, and walks out of the factory, heart still racing at whatever just happened.

Bestfriend!Uzair who clutches his chest, keeping the gun pressed where she left it, and calls out, “Kaal raat. Same time. Yaad rakhiyo!” as he shakes his head in amusement while keeping his gaze locked on the way her hips sway into the night. 

Shit, when did his pants get tighter?

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2 years. 730 days. 730 glances. 730 kisses. 730 smiles. 730 promises. The earth revolves around its sun twice in that frame. He, however, stood stagnant for the first time in 730 days– for he had lost his sun all together.  

Uzair couldn’t grasp when he had started taking her for granted but god, oh god, would he offer his bleeding heart at stake just to keep her. 

Month 18 [9:45PM] Baloch Haveli, Lyari – Karachi, Pakistan 

Y/N sat impatiently on Uzair’s bed, draped in a simple black saree dusted with faint gold flecks that caught weakly under the bedroom light. It was her mother’s saree; Uzair’s favorite. Tonight was supposed to be theirs. Y/N had finally completed her third year of medical studies, Rehman bhai’s years of labor within Lyari had finally begun bearing fruit, the kind sweet enough to let Uzair breathe on his own terms for once.

Yet somehow, he still couldn’t.

The room sat heavy beneath the suffocating heat. Lyari was notorious for its clammy nights, but this felt different… artificial… as though the resentment Uzair held was seeping into the hot air locked within. Uzair paced slowly-footsteps uneven against the floor, phone pressed tightly against his ear while the veins on his arms protruded, hinting at his agitation during the call. One moment he was still by the window, the next he turned sharply again, dragging frustrated fingers through his damp, humidity-clung hair before snapping at the voice on the other end.

His jaw remained locked, grinding his teeth to halt the frustration threatening to spill out of him. Each exhale grew sharper than the last. Y/N followed every movement from the edge of his bed, hands fidgeting on her lap. At first, she watched him with concern. Then slowly, quietly, she sank into herself in understanding.

She had lost him to someone else yet again.

Three weeks. Three weeks since they had been allowed uninterrupted time together, and even tonight, when the world had finally slowed enough to hand them a few hours of peace, she sat waiting for him to finally look at her.

His kurta clung to his back with sweat as he halted by the window once more, completely consumed by the conversation refusing to end. The pale light from his phone sharpened the exhaustion beneath his eyes. He never noticed her stand as she pushed herself off the bed quietly, her saree brushed faintly against the floor tiles as she walked toward the bathroom in resignation.

The flickering bathroom light stung, highlighting the taunting reality of her state. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her curls had long since fallen loose, softened by the stuffiness and hours of waiting. The glitter around her eyes no longer caught light the way it had earlier. Her lipstick had faded nearly two shades lighter than before-applied carefully in hopes of leaving traces of herself across Uzair’s skin. Maybe behind his ear; across his jaw if he was lucky enough.

But only her efforts remained visible and this time she didn’t bother fixing it. 

Quietly, she reached up to remove her jhumkas. The metal clinked sharply against the marble sink, the sound mocking her hope. Y/N paused for a moment, trying to find a sliver of light in the enclosing darkness that had started to grow over their bubble. Then her fingers drifted toward the delicate سُکون (sukoon) necklace resting against her neck. Her fingertips paused against the clasp. Uzair had fastened it on her birthday, fingers fumbling slightly while he avoided looking directly at her afterward. Safe haven. Security. That’s what he had accepted her as in his life.

Tonight, the chain felt sturdier than whatever held them together. She unclasped it slowly, wincing faintly when a strand of hair caught against the hook before slipping free.

From outside, she heard his curt “Khuda hafiz” followed by the rustle of fabric and the dull sound of pacing resuming almost immediately after. He was probably dragging his hands through his hair again, trying to regain control over whatever had stolen him away this time.

Y/N looked at herself one final time in the mirror. Less adorned now, easier to disappear into the night.

She stepped back into the room softly, and Uzair still hadn’t looked up. She made her way quietly toward the bedroom door, fingers wrapping carefully around the handle, hoping to slip away without interruption.

“Chalo. Waise hi time kaam hai.” Uzair directed, his eyes still fixed on his phone while his thumbs moved hurriedly across the screen. The collar of his kurta had darkened, a sign of his weariness, fabric wrinkled heavily around his forearm from how long he had held the phone there.

Y/N said nothing. Her fingers tightened around the handle again hoping to disappear. Only then did he finally look up.

“Y/N?” agitation still lingered beneath his voice.

“Hm?” she answered softly, turning toward him.

His gaze dropped immediately toward her hand curled around the handle.

“Kahan jaa rahi ho?”

“Ghar” she admitted quietly.

He looked at her. Really looked. Her hair, once curled neatly down her back, was now dull. A few strands frizzed around her face. Her lipstick had nearly disappeared. The glitter around her eyes no longer caught the light in his periphery.

Then his gaze shifted lower. Her neck was bare. His necklace was gone. Something about its absence irritated him even more.

“Tum kahin nahi jaa rahi ho.” The firmness came slower now.

“Uzair, main-”

“Hum dono bahar jaane wale hain.” He adjusted his damp collar absentmindedly while stepping toward her, as though the night could still be salvaged if they simply continued where they had left off.

“Der ho gayi hai…” 

“Kya?” he halted at her mutter.

“Der ho gayi hai.” a pause.

She pulled the bedroom door open not wanting to explain herself further, but Uzair reached it before she could leave, pushing it shut with a sharp thud against the frame.

“Yeh kya befazool ka natak kar rahi ho? Jaa rahe hain na bahar?” he snapped at her, frustrated, as though she were the difficult one.

Y/N finally broke “Nahi jana mujhe bahar! Samajh nahi aa raha ya phir behre ho?”

“Kyun nahi jana? Huh? 5 minute kisi se baat kya kar li kaam ke baare mein, tum apna chehra mukaar logi?!”

“5 minute?! Yeh sab 5 minute ki rukawat thi?” She flailed her hands around the room to highlight their disheveled state.

“To agar mera kuch kaam aa gaya, usme kya masla hai tumhe? Abhi bhi jaa sakte hain bahar… yahi chahti thi na tum?” His voice rose in agitation, reminding her that this had been her plan.

“Ehsaan mat karo mujh pe. Bheek nahi maangi thi maine tumse… waqt guzarne ka mann tha, lekin tumhe fursat kahan hai humare liye?!” she countered, matching his level, yet shocked by his nerve. How dare he?

“Fursat hai, issi liye tumhare saamne abhi khada hua hun.” He stepped closer to her in defiance, narrowing his eyes, daring her to continue this fight.

“Mat khade raho phir! Waise bhi kya haasil-”

“Minaat kyun karwa rahi ho?! Raat khatam nahi hui hai–tumhe samajh nahi aa raha?! Thodi si der kya ho gayi… main nahi kar sakta tha isko ignore.” His tone rose while he attempted to bargain weakly.

“Kar sakte the, Uzair.”

“Tumhe zyada pata hai?” He snapped at her audacity.

She blinked, wounded by his insinuation; This conversation was spiraling.

“Nahi… mujhe kuch nahi pata hai, lekin itna zaroor bol sakti hun ki tum humein…” she pointed between their heavy souls, “…prioritize nahi karte.”

“Ky-” He faltered at her accusation, eyebrows drawn in disbelief. “Kaam sambhal raha tha– isme mujhse kaunsi galti ho gayi? Batao.” He seethed.

She knew he wouldn’t listen to her words; far too prideful to engage, so she retreated. As always.

“Kuch nahi hai batane ko. Main…” she sighed and nodded apologetically, “main jaa rahi hun apne ghar…baad main baat kar lenge… khayal rakhna.” She crossed past his shoulder and reached for the door handle.

“Zyada nata-”

“Uzair, bas!” she cried “Bohot ho gaya. Nahi hota mujhse ab intezaar.” admitting agonizingly, blurry eyes meeting his unfocused ones. “Zindagi ruk gayi hai meri tumhare peeche bhaag bhaag ke. Thak gayi hun main!” She finally faced him, pleading for relief.

“Y/N-” he tried calling for her, shocked at her outburst.

“Aur kitna wait karun main…” Her lips trembled, hoping he’d understand her plight. 

Something flickered across his face at her admission: worry, fear. What did she mean? Red tinted his gaze as he stared at her worn-out frame, struggling to make sense of the pain she was insisting upon. Wait? Wait for what? He had always been there for her- day and night. Whenever she needed him. What more could she want from him? Everything was hers already.

These thoughts ached inside him, fueling his growing animosity for the wasted night even more.  How could she dismiss his efforts so easily…especially when he was trying to make up for their lost time. Before his heart could make sense of anything, his ego took over, twisting her words into a misunderstanding he no longer wanted to address.

“Theek hai. Jana hai to jao. Main nahi rokunga.”

She finally took a breath in relief. He heard her for the first time.

“Lekin tum aaj gayi, to phir wapas aane ki jurat mat karna.” He shrugged detachedly, hiding his trembling hands in the cold pockets of his kurta.

Y/N’s eyes widened at his ultimatum. Did he just…He did not mean that. He couldn’t have. 

“Uzair tum yeh k-” she tried to amend but was only met with his averted gaze and taut shoulders. 

Uzair couldn’t have cared less to hear her out. 

Her posture stiffened at his uninterest. He was far too old to be playing these games with her but if he wanted to end it right here-right now…so be it. 

“Theek hai. Behtar hoga,” she agreed curtly. This was it. “Ab tumhe apna keemti waqt mujh pe zaya nahi karna padega…” she noted while exiting his room without turning back.

Uzair felt paralyzed at those words. He hadn’t expected her to concede… shit.

The door remained slightly ajar, swaying faintly as the sound of her heels faded farther into the distance. He simply stood there, eyes foggy yet fixed on the spot where she had stood seconds ago. His heart recoiled-feet scrambling past his barricading bedroom door, hoping to catch the glimmer of his favorite saree and drag her back to him- beg for her forgiveness, but he was met only by the flickering candlelight decorating the haveli hallways.

His body had moved too late.

She was gone.

Y/N had left…and he had let her.

Month 19 [Day 30] Lyari – Karachi, Pakistan

A month had passed by since that night. A month since he had seen her. heard her. held her. Uzair hadn’t been functioning well since that hour. Restlessness clinging to his nerves- eyes frantically searching for her in everything he did. 

Walking through the market with his bhabhi? He would lead himself astray–stopping at the shops she was a regular at. 

Driving past any hospital? He would slow down his jeep, hoping to catch her walking home after class. 

Playing football with Faisal? He would miss the goal. Body unmoving; convinced she was nearby because he was being drawn by her perfume–lillies.

Uzair’s descent to madness didn’t go un-noticed. His friends found him taking detours during their drives- conveniently driving past her streets. Rehman bhai often caught him writing scattered syllables on work order receipts: her name etched in his conscience. Ulfat bhabhi noticed his worst: when the jittery tremors tugged him to her college. Every Wednesday. 6:30pm. Sharp. Making him wait outside the rusted metal gates–a make shift hurdle– just for a glimpse of her. A fleeting chance to have her back. Yet when his drunk form was dragged back into the haveli on those nights…Ulfat knew he had lost himself again. 

Most nights he’d settle in his balcony, after the familial commotion had hushed. A cup of chai rotting cold on the table as two cookies lay limp in the tray–as though the accessories were chosen to lure her back to him. He’d wait. Patiently. Succumbing to his guilt. Legs crossed on the sofa, cushion hugging tightly against his gnawing heart like a hopeful kid–fighting sleep in fear that he would miss her in case she did come back, to him the peace offering, during the silent hours. But she never did. And by dawn the chai and cookies were cleared–as was his himmat. 

Uzair was running desperate. Her untouched jewellery glimmering under the dull bathroom light haunted his every sleep. How had he said those words so easily? Why didn’t he take them back? What else could he do? He would give her space - he would give her anything, dammit, if only she would let him. If only he could find her again.

He had left no stone unturned in his search across Lyari, seeking her warmth like a shivering puppy, but it was as though she had vanished. Where was she? 

He needed her.He needed her.He needed her. 

And if there was a god kind enough to answer his every waking, pitiful prayer, then Uzair’s sukoon would be brought back to him.

Month 20 [Day 18] Lyari- Karachi, Pakistan

Wednesday [7:30PM]

Uzair sat on the veranda floor, his back pressed against the couch for support. It was the first Wednesday he hadn’t rushed to her college…His energy had long since faded. He nursed his second glass of whisky (a surprisingly small amount for him these days) while mindlessly turning her necklace between his fingers, its engraving mocking under the setting sun. Another month had passed without her. He wondered if she missed him as much as he did. Did she lie awake at night, haunted by their words? Maybe she had stood outside the guarded haveli gates, unable to make herself step inside.

Rehman bhai and Ulfat bhabhi exchanged quiet whispers behind him, glancing wary looks in his direction, but Uzair remained lost to it all. He sat numb to his surroundings, deciding that his sorrows were worth more than reality. 

The haveli gates creaked as Donga’s entrance boomed across the open area where the family was dispersing. He whispered short salutations across while making a headway straight towards Uzair, settling on the couch against which the lonesome boy was frozen. Donga tilted his head in curiosity as he took in his friend’s unmoving state. He gave a quick, unamused, glance over to a retreating Rehman before grabbing Uzair into a chokehold and vigorously shaking him around.

“Ullu ke pathe, nikal iss dukh se-kitna rona dhona kaarega tu?” he loudly complained while giving Uzair a slap against the back of his head. Uzair just sat there, allowing himself to be swayed. Donga let go of the chokehold at Uzair’s lack of resistance with a sigh.

“Aa jaye gi bhabhi… chinta mat kar…” his voice softened. “Chal, bahar chalte hain.” He nudged while peering down to meet the wilted gaze staring blankly ahead. “Woh angrezi mein kehte hain na…‘my treat.’ Waahi hoga.” he coaxed further, forcing a cheeky grin and clapping his back in encouragement , hoping to break Uzair’s trance. Uzair reluctantly nodded and stood up. Maybe going away from Lyari for a bit wouldn’t be too terrible. Maybe his luck would finally shine. Maybe he’d come across her.

“Waise bha-” Donga continued, helping Uzair stand up when he was interrupted. Hamza stumbled through the entrance–wide-eyed. Breathless. panicked. His chest heaved violently beneath his kurta as he tried to find Rehman bhai, but Uzair barely noticed any commotion. His eyes locked onto the small red-tinted card crushed tightly in Hamza’s fist.

Something inside Uzair was unsettled.What happened? Did Hamza find her? Was she finally back? Was that a note from her?

He slowly stepped toward Hamza, unable to quiet the frenzy building inside him. “Woh kya hai, Hamza?” he asked softly.

Hamza instinctively tried hiding the card behind his back. Unmissed. Why would Hamza do that?

“T-tere li-”

“Hamza.” Uzair stepped closer. “Haath mein kya hai?” His voice came quieter this time.

Hamza looked toward Donga for help, subtly shaking his head no, as if warning him the conversation waiting ahead was not meant for Uzair to hear. Donga immediately picked up on it. Uzair stood between the two scheming men, eyes still glued to the red-colored paper hiding in plain sight.

“Uzair bhai, iska chhoro na, hum cha-” The glare Uzair shot at him was enough. Stay out of this.

“Mu band rakh.” Uzair snapped, gaze never leaving Hamza’s.

Hamza’s grip tightened around the now-crushed card, palm growing sweaty beneath it. Uzair continued stalking toward him slowly, hand extending out.

“Bhai, meri baat sun le-” Hamza retreated backwards. One step. Then another. Trying to create space between them.

“Kya chhupa raha hai tu mujhse?” Uzair’s agitation heightened with every step forward.

“Tere liye nahi hai, baat samajh” Hamza insisted weakly. But Uzair had reached his limit.

He grabbed Hamza by the collar roughly and shoved him against the nearest brick wall of the veranda. Hamza’s breath hitched. Uzair stared into his dilated eyes, already knowing his best friend was hiding something pivotal. His grip tightened against the collar as he tried snatching the paper away, but Hamza quickly hid his hand behind his back.

That only enraged Uzair further. “Hamze.” His jaw clenched. “Haath dikha.”

“Main nahi kar sakta… tere liye nahi hai yeh.”

“Yeh kya bakwaas laga rakhi hai tune?!” Uzair barked, shoving him harder into the wall. “Itni jaldi mein kyun bhaga andar aur card kyun chhupa raha hai?!”

Yet Hamza remained still. “Rehman bh-”

“Nahi hai yahan. Ab bol.”

“Uzair, please meri-”

“Dikha mujhe!”

Uzair pressed him harder against the wall, forearm tight across his neck before finally snatching the godforsaken paper from Hamza’s hand.

Hamza immediately tried grabbing it back. Too late.

Uzair stepped back slowly, letting go of his captive as he unfolded the crumpled red card. Donga glanced toward Hamza, ready to intervene, but Hamza widened his eyes sharply at him. No.Not now.

“Uzair, woh Rehman bhai ke liye ha-” Hamza tried again desperately.

“Bol m-” Uzair’s words died the second the card opened fully in his hands. Gold lettering sewn delicately across the center.

Y/N

Weds

Fawad.

Y/N. His Y/N. Weds…

The world went silent. Uzair stood frozen. Chest tight, breath hitched, fingers gripping the invitation for support. His heart had stopped, yet his mind ran rampant trying to make sense of the horror before him. Short breaths pulsed unevenly through him as the growing hollowness slowly spread through his being.

The card trembled faintly in his hands as his eyes dragged over the gold lettering again. Slower. Frequent. Burning. As if the words would disappear if he stared hard enough. Hamza noticed immediately, stepping forward to steady him, but halted the second he met Uzair’s ruined eyes.

“Y-yeh…” his voice cracked softly. “Kab?” ache carried through his tone.

“Aaj…” Hamza swallowed.

Uzair felt his nerves tremble violently beneath his skin, mind incapable of accepting that his sukoon could ever do something like this.

Two months. Two months of waiting. Aimless drives. Bloodshot eyes fixed on empty roads. He had mapped out the entire land for her. Had not slept for her. Had barely lived. Only for the hope he followed to lead him here?

No. Nononononono. He wouldn’t let this happen. 

Before either of them could stop him, Uzair shoved past Hamza and stormed toward his jeep. “Uzair!” Donga shouted after him.

The engine roared through the haveli grounds as Uzair tore into the streets, every thought leading back to her.

She would not walk towards that nikkah. Not unless it was him waiting at the altar. Not while he still had so much left to say. And not before she listened.

[8:45PM]--Karachi, Pakistan

Y/N sat before her vanity, wrapped in a soft maroon joda embroidered with gold that caught beneath the warm wedding lights. The scent of fresh lilies lingered around her as she adjusted her dupatta over her head, dark mehendi staining her hands, his name hidden within the patterns only meant for him.

For a moment, she truly looked at herself in the mirror. Adorned like every bride. Beautiful. Ready. Yet the ache settling deep within her chest didn’t let her believe that she was truly getting married.

Every vow, every prayer, every promise she had ever held carried his name. The card should have said the same, but it couldn’t. Not after that night. She hadn’t spoken his name in a long time now, choosing instead to bury every memory of him somewhere deep enough that it wouldn’t haunt her- because acknowledging him meant accepting that she had truly lost him.

Still, she remembered his words clearly. Spoken so easily. So dismissively. And no matter how desperately she tried to erase them, her rooh still ached for his warmth.

The realization tightened painfully around her chest as guilt slowly began to set in. Everything she had spent so long trying to build with him was now just an illusion- an alternate reality where she never reached.  

A shaky breath escaped her lips. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the vanity as her thoughts spiraled faster than her mind could contain. The room suddenly felt too congested, too loud despite the silence ringing in her ears. Tears blurred her vision as panic settled beneath her skin. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t destined for this night because she was losing herself again…to him. 

Her bedroom door slammed open, the sound tearing through her thoughts and making her flinch in surprise. She glanced her teary gaze toward the mirror to check who had barged in—only to meet a dark pair of eyes staring back at her.

His eyes.

Uzair Baloch.

Her breath hitched. For a second, she could only stare at his reflection, her chest heaving beneath the heavy jewelry resting against her skin. He looked almost unreal standing there, like a manifestation of every thought she was trying to forget.

Her grip loosened from the vanity. She squeezed her eyes shut, covering them with the heels of her palms as she shook her head in quiet dismissal. The faint tingling of her bridal jewelry echoed softly through the room, grounding her just enough.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

She sighed, hoping to clear away the tricks her mind was playing, but when her eyes flickered back to the mirror and caught his, she knew this wasn’t her imagination anymore. Her eyes widened at his looming frame, hair longer now, shaggy, as if a testament of his chaos. She tracked her view back to his tired face, eyes unrelenting of their storm. She hadn’t moved, couldn’t bring herself to, just stared at him through the reflection.

“U-”

“Tum shaadi kar rahi ho?” The suffocating silence shattered between them, his voice rough and breathless.

Y/N remained still, not trusting herself enough to stand, so she merely nodded meekly.

He stiffened at her confirmation-unbelievable. “Nahi.” he ordered

Y/N’s  breath caught, brows furrowing in confusion.What was he talking about?

He sniffled softly, shaking his head as though trying to reject the reality in front of him before taking another step closer. Y/N slowly turned in her seat, watching him stalk toward her, confusion deepening with every uneven breath that left him.

“Uzair?”

“Chalo, ghar chalo…” he beckoned impatiently. “Tum yeh shaadi nahi kar sakti.” He still refused to properly look at her, his gaze restless, avoiding hers entirely while Y/N sat frozen, unable to process the absurdity of what he was saying.

“Yeh kya-”

He finally looked at her. Eyes fierce. Unafraid

“Sunai nahi deta? Uttho, ghar chalo.” He pointed at her yet she didn't break, irritation washing over her

“Kya bol rahe ho tum? Kaunsa ‘ghar’? Andar ghuse kaise tum?” she retorted in agitation 

His jaw tightened instantly, tension coursing through his nerves -not appreciating her accusations as though he hadn't just given up everything to take her back- why was she turning this whole ordeal against him?

“Humara ghar…” he reminded firmly. “Haveli.”

A humorless scoff left her lips. “Wo mera ghar nahi hai.” Her voice hardened. “Na kabhi tha. Na kabhi hoga.”

“Kya bakwaas kar rahi ho-”His tone sharpened immediately at her declaration. Because in his mind, the haveli had always belonged to her.

“Pagal ho gaye ho tum?!” she finally snapped, pushing herself to her feet and stepping toward him. “Kamre se bahar niklo.” she pressed, not in the mood to deal with his bullshit. 

“Mein pa-”

“Bahar!” she yelled at him, grabbing his arm to force him toward the door, but before she could move him, his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, pulling her back until barely inches remained between them.

The fire in his eyes was long gone, replaced with something unidentifiable. “Kyun…” he whispered looking down at her glossy eyes- dropping his heated guard. 

“Kya kyun?!”  she pressed immediately, searching his face for the arrogance he had walked in with, but she couldn’t find it anymore.

“Kyun kar rahi ho yeh shaadi?” His hand still burned against her wrist.

“Meri maarzi, rishta aaya tha, acha lad-”

“Jhoot..”

“Kya matlab jhoot?!” she snapped, yanking against his hold. “Tumhe kya pata hoga?! Uss raat tumne mujhe nikala tha!” She tried pulling her wrist free again, but his grip only tightened.

“Do manhiney…puri layari ukhardi tumhare liye ki pata nahi kiss kone mein tum mujhe wapis miljaogi” he admitted painfully, his grief stricken eyes never leaving hers

Her words died in her throat, anger simmering down as she witnessed him surrender. Why was he telling her this? Why would it matter now?

“Galti ho gayi thi…” he whispered hoarsely. “Maafi mangna chahta tha-”

“Bas, Uzair.”

“Mera sukoon cheen liya tumne jis raat tum chali gayi.” Y/N’s face twisted instantly.

“C-chali gayi?” she repeated in disbelief. “Tumne mujhe jaane ko bola tha!”

“Ho gayi galti mujhse!” he snapped suddenly, his voice rising again. “Mujhe pachtawa hai uss baat ka! Har roz kosta hoon apne aap ko!”

“To apne ghar jake pachtao, meri zindagi aur maat kharab karo!” she tugged her gripped wrist again, finally setting herself free

He blinked at her audacity- her insinuation that he was the reason for her short-falling life, that it was him for all her failures

“Apni zindagi tum khud kharab kar rahi ho!” he fought harder trying to make her realize that this marriage would ruin her even more

“Tumhe kyun fikr hai?!”

“Mohabbat karta hun tumse.” he admitted angrily, inching closer towards her.

She scoffed. “Kaisi mohabbat? Woh mohabbat jisme tum mujhe apna waqt nahi de paate the? Ya phir woh jisme tumne mujhe kabhi suna hi nahi?”

Her lips trembled, eyes welling up, as she took a small step back. “Nafrat ke layak hai tumhari mohabbat…”

His heart seized. The tears gathering in her eyes hurt far more than her words ever could. Because for the first time, he realized she looked at his love and saw nothing worth fighting for.

“Aise maat bolo. Kya nahi kiya tumhare liye maine, hm? Apna pura wajood tumahre saamne rakh diya tha maine” he emphasized “Chalo mere saath, tumhari haar bat sununga, tu-main-” he stepped closer, unable to pour his feelings into words frustration bleeding through. 

He grasped her mehndi clad hands again, placing them right above his staggering heart. “Mere dil ki dhadkan ho tum…yeh kya rahega tumhare bina?..” tears spilled through her eyes as she took in his every confirmation, his every loyal word, hand clutching his creased kurta as he continued “main wada karta hun…baas tum he kush dekhna chahta hun– aapni sukoon ko wapis lana chahta hun”

“Kya faida iss wade ka?!” she cried. “Jab main roz tumhara intezaar karti thi tab kahan thi yeh mohabbat?” Her hand tightened against his kurta. “Kaise khush reh sakti hoon main tumhare saath agar tum mere saath rahoge hi nahi?” The words struck him harder than anything she'd said that night. Because her anger had been replaced by fear. Years of it.

“Aaj ho...” her voice cracked. “Kal nahi.”

Uzair froze. Y/N shook her head, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Kya guarantee hai, Uzair?” she whispered brokenly. “Kya guarantee hai ke tum mere saath hamesha ke liye hoge?” Silence swallowed the room. And suddenly he understood. This was never only about the missed time. It was about every conversation that felt like it could have been their last. 

Y/N let out a tired broken laugh. “Main aisi zindagi nahi bita sakti.” Her fingers loosened against his kurta. “Tum gaye toh mera kya hoga?” she questioned- trying to make him realize that his promises fell flat in front of their crumbling reality. 

Uzair’s anger showed his rational yet again this night- not willing to negotiate her loss “ek muka to do-”

“Muka tha! Pechele do saal se muka tha! Tumne wo gawaya-” she jabbed her finger against his rising chest “aur kya chahate ho tum mujshe- kya hai mere paas tume dene ko?!” 

“Maat karo yeh shaadi.” he begged harshly, eyes frantically searching hers. 

“Uza-” she tried to call in exhaustion

“Marr jaunga main!” The room fell silent at his pain and vulnerability. Uzair's chest heaved. “Nahi jee paunga apne aap ke saath...” he whispered brokenly. “Khali hoon main...”

She looked at him with a hard-stare–why now? Why had he chosen to say this now? 2 years. 730 days. 730 opportunities he was given to reassure Y/N that she was his for life. Why? now. 

Anger. Hurt. Remorse bubbled as she struck back “Marro.” The word left her lips in a whisper. Then louder. “Jao. Marro phir!” Her palms slammed against his chest. again and again and again “Kyun khade ho mere saamne?!” Another shove. “Jao na!” The lilies slipped from her haath phool one by one, scattering across the floor. Glass cracked beneath their feet as part of her chooda shattered from the force of her movements, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop.  Her tear-filled gaze never met him as she kept pushing him. Kept hitting him. Forcing months of grief, years of disappointment on to him with every hit.

And Uzair let her. He didn't stop her. Didn't grab her wrists. Didn't move away. He simply stood there and took it. As though he deserved every blow.

“Aab batane ka kya faida?! Gaya humara waqat! Nahi wapis aayga-” she rambled as she continued to trash against him, tired–her light dimming.

Uzair inhaled sharply before finally catching her moving wrists, gently lowering them to her sides. She didn't resist. Didn't have the strength to as she sobbed helpless.

His arms wrapped around her before he could stop himself. One hand cradled the back of her head, pressing her gently against his chest while the other rubbed slow circles across her back.

And Y/N broke. She wept into his warmth–mouring what could have been tonight. 

The duo remained frozen, unable to move from each other's grasp, longing for this moment for months now. Uzair held her tighter as though keeping her close would maybe make her feel the true essence and worth of all the words he had confessed tonight. 

The heavy silence stretched between them. Resting his chin on top of her dupatta-covered head, Uzair glanced down at the destruction surrounding them. Her makeup ruined. Lilies scattered across the floor. The scent of them slowly fading with every shaky inhale. Broken pieces of chooda glinting beneath the wedding lights.

Uzair swallowed hard, maybe in guilt, maybe in exhaustion. Maybe because for the first time in his life, he had no idea how to fix something. He let out a deep sigh and whispered a final plea in the air “Y/N…” the words lost in defeat

Y/N hiccupped against his chest. The night that was meant to celebrate her future had instead forced her to mourn the one she had always wanted.  Her throat burning raw from all the words. She didn't fight his hold. Didn't fight his plea. She couldn’t. He had taken her very last breath. 

“Nahi hai aur himmat.” she whispered hoarsely 

 “Please. Jaane do mujhe.”

Uzair shut his eyes…knowing it was his time to retreat. He could not believe that loving him had become a burden to her; not when he had spent every waking moment of the past two years trying to brighten the only life that fueled his own. How could he let her go though? After everything…

He pulled away, looking at her streaked face intently. God, even now, looking at her face brought back his sukoon. He gently wiped her face, erasing their history one tear at a time. She let him. He tucked the fallen pieces from her bun which framed her anguished face behind her ear. She let him. He lifted her chin upwards, moving her face to meet his, both of their gazes bare of all their burdens. 

Y/N was a bride but not his bride…

Uzair took hold of her now-empty wrist, his touch cold, as he led her towards her bedroom door, his steps crunching over the glass of her broken bangles.

Y/N looked at him warily, panic settling at his unknown movements. She tugged at his hand to free herself, but his grip only lingered.

“U-uzair” she called out, continuing to tug as he led her through her home’s hallway.

“Y-yeh kya kar rahe ho tum, Uzair… mera haath chodo” she repeated as he weakly dragged her down the stairs, through the awaiting crowd.

Her fear grew as he remained silent—passing the staring aunties, passing Hamza, who had followed his best friend, helpless, unable to stop him either.

“Uzair! Pl-” her words stumbled as he finally released her hand, placing her at the edge of the embroidered carpet that led to her mandap.

“Main tumhara hoon. Hamesha tha. Hamesha rahunga” he reminded her, broken. And she couldn’t do anything but stand in the weight of it.

“Jao. Karlo nikaah. Nahi rok paaya tumhe…” he whispered as Hamza stepped in, trying to pull him back faintly, “lekin yaad rakhna… haveli ke darwaze hamesha khule rahenge… aur main intezaar karta rahunga.”

“Ghar hai woh tumhara.” he declared in finality, glancing down at her deeply stained mehndi hands, as Hamza pulled him away.

Y/N followed their every last move… until his presence disappeared behind the lavishly decorated gates.

And he did not look back. Not once.

Not knowing Y/N’s mehendi had hidden his name all along.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

goodnight guys, im seriously hibernating after this phew

[Him]

Uzair was never one for love. He’d never experienced love firsthand enough to seek it. To him, love was subjective. People in love were fools, especially men like him whose lives were nomadic, unpredictable, and rash. But his aversion(s) never stopped him from playing around town… Not when his bhabhi constantly pushed him to settle down and start his own legacy, not when most girls in town already knew of his scandalous reputation, not when he had nothing left to lose to his banjara-pan until he came across her.

Only vaguely, for a soothing second, but that blink was enough to rattle his adrenaline-dependent heart. It was a fleeting moment… She stood off to the side with her back turned toward the haveli, giggling softly with Yalina, clad in a white anarkali (matching his white kurta), luscious gold embroidery trailing down her sleeves before meeting the delicate hand chain adorning her wrists and fingers. Faint traces of mehndi hid beneath the gold. Uzair didn’t have the sharpest of eyes, but from his balcony, everything about her seemed painfully clear. The soft scrunch of her nose in disbelief at whatever Yalina was saying, the way loose strands had escaped her braided bun and swayed in the warm night breeze, and how she kept smoothing them back into place… How she shifted between her feet, her payals chiming softly with every restless movement as Yalina’s words didn’t catch a break. She radiated against the darkened sky. She was his sunlight. No… sunlight was too harsh for someone like her (her glow could never burn his sore eyes). She was his moon, reflecting an ethereal peace over him that slowed his racing heart.

Uzair hadn’t even noticed when Hamza stepped beside him, far too lost in the sight of his chand. He could swear the stars themselves dimmed in jealousy whenever she entered the room, and why wouldn't they? She was perfect, wrapped in a sparkle only a select few were blessed with, and God had truly taken time blessing her with a radiance unlike any other, a light capable of setting even a man like Uzair’s heart on fire.

An angel.

“Kya dekh raha hai?” Hamza asked, trying to follow his line of sight, but he couldn’t pinpoint what his best friend was staring at.

“Pari…” he replied absently.

“Huh?” Hamza frowned at him. Was he going insane? “Paagal ho gaya hai? Raat ko kaunsi pari dikh gayi tujhe?” But Uzair barely heard him, still lost in her.

She shifted slightly to her right, revealing more of her glowing face, and Uzair’s breath hitched. Her cheeks were tinted pink with a subtle sheen to them, as if rose-kissed. God, could she get any more beautiful? He noticed the delicate gold jhumkis brushing against her skin every time she turned her head. He found that the soft clink of her earrings echoed around him. The more his gaze lingered on her, the deeper he fell for the unknown deity standing only meters away. He was just about to catch the sound of her voice when a sharp smack landed against the back of his head. The sting rang through his ears, jolting him from his trance. He turned sharply toward the source of the blow only to find his thoroughly unamused friend lowering his hand back to his side.

“Gir ja issi balcony se jitna tu aage jhuke ja raha hai” Hamza muttered, watching his friend lean dangerously over the railing.

Uzair, however, felt both furious and strangely lost. Just how long had he been standing there watching her?

“Zyada haath chalaye na toh agli baar shareer se alag milenge tujhe” Uzair said, turning towards Hamza completely and warning him half-heartedly. “Kya hai? Kyun pareshaan kar raha hai? Ek toh Rehman bhai ke kehne pe tujhe Eid pe bulaya-”

“Haan haan, main bohaut shukar guzar hoon” Hamza cut in, rolling his eyes. “Dus minute se yahin khada hoke teri aisi khoi shakal dekh raha hoon. Pata nahi kya be-fazool ‘pari-pari’ laga rakha hai. Teen baar bhabhi neeche se bula chuki hain aur tu jawab hi nahi de raha. Isliye main upar aaya tujhe bulane kyunki Jamali sahab aa gaye hain.” Hamza complained while heading toward the stairs, fully expecting Uzair to follow.

Uzair, however, remained rooted to his spot.

“Haan toh, isme main kya karun?” Uzair asked, genuinely confused.

Hamza stopped midway down the stairs and stared at him like he had completely lost his senses. “Tujhe nahi pata kya karna hai?” he snapped and shook his head before continuing down the staircase. “Ab neeche aa, warna main bhai ko bhej dunga.”

Uzair immediately straightened at the threat.

He had slipped a little too far away from reality and needed to recover before it began reflecting in his behavior. With one last glance toward the courtyard below, he hurried downstairs to join his family in welcoming the Jamalis to their haveli for Eid, hoping he’d finally see her face-to-face.

Uzair’s breath stalled the moment the haveli gates opened. As the Jamali family stepped into view, his eyes searched only for her.

But she was nowhere to be seen.

His brows furrowed slightly. Where had his pari disappeared to?

[Her]

Yalina couldn’t remember much of her life before Y/N. There wasn’t much to it before her anyway. Y/N was her flame. She was the volt that gave Yalina her energy, she was the moon if Yalina was the sun, she was the light that brightened every room. The pair grew up together, from sharing their lunch at school to playing cupid during senior formal season. There was no Yalina without Y/N and she wouldn’t trade her best friend for anything in the world.

Y/N was always the first to know everything: Yalina’s first broken bone, Jamali Uncle’s first political loss, Yalina’s mom’s embarrassing fight with the local juice vendor. Hell, she had even accompanied Yalina to the Baloch haveli for the Eid dawat, though she had to leave before the grand welcome because her mother kept calling, threatening to lock her out for the night. Even when Yalina first bumped into Hamza while rushing out of the raided party, Y/N knew Yalina had fallen for the brooding, armor-built man long before Yalina admitted it herself.

So it wasn’t surprising to her when Yalina bombarded Y/N’s phone at sharp 7:00 AM with multiple missed FaceTimes.

Y/N was still lost in her world, splayed across the dining table downstairs, trying to capture the meaning of her blurred dream. Her phone, lying a few meters away from her, vibrated every five seconds, adding relentless background noise to her already chaotic imagination. The buzzing slowly dragged the phone closer toward Y/N’s outstretched arm before the call disconnected once more. Exhausted by the constant noise, Y/N’s mother stormed out of the kitchen, snatched the brightened phone, and slammed it near her ear.

“Agar kisi ka phone uthana nahi hota toh phir rakha kyun hua hai iss faltu cheez ko?” she complained as Y/N’s phone continued buzzing insistently.

Y/N jerked awake at the sharp noise of her mother and looked up at her with heavy eyes, still battling between falling back asleep or paying attention to her mother. “Kya hua?” she asked hoarsely, trying to figure out the debacle that required such disturbance this early.

“Tumhara yeh phone pichle 15 minute se non-stop baj raha hai. Dhyan se naashta bhi nahi bana sakti kitchen mein. Ya toh utha lo ya main isko khidki se bahar phenk dungi” her mother said exasperatedly before walking away to the kitchen, still muttering in frustration.

Before Y/N could retort in her defense, her phone buzzed again. She sighed and picked up the device weakly, still fighting the lethargy from waking up so unexpectedly. She squinted her eyes to decipher the notorious caller before recognizing the name ‘chottu’. She rolled her eyes, unsurprised. Of course it was none other than Yalina Jamali herself disrupting Y/N’s peace at this hour.

She finally answered the call and before she could present any salutations, she was flooded with, “Kisi khai mein giri thi ya phir mujhse nafrat karti hai? Huh? 15 minute se phone non-stop bajaye ja rahi hoon aur tu ulluon ki tarha soi padi hai. Shehzadi ko koi farak hi nahi padta ki uski best friend yahan marr rahi hai. Bas isko pura din bed pe leta do. Bachay bhi itna nahi sote, kamini!”

Yalina rambled nonsensically as Y/N stared at her best friend tight-lipped and entertained, mumbling a soft good morning. Yalina inhaled sharply and Y/N took the opportunity to interject. “Maar kyun rahi hai? Jameel Mammu ka phir se kisi ne kaat diya kya… ya phir Mammi ne kisi se ladai kar li?” she joked, but Yalina didn’t find it humorous.

“Itne bhi bure din nahi chal rahe mere. Actually… mere kuch ache din shuru ho gaye hain… Y/N,” she called out to her best friend softly, “meri baat pakki ho gayi hai.” She blushed.

Y/N looked at her confused. So what was the big deal in this?

“Haan toh? Medical tuition cancel nahi hui… usme kya ki baat pakki? Tune mujhe iss liye phone kiya? Chottu, main subah 5 baje soyi hoon. Abhi tak landscape bhi nahi khatam kiya. Thodi toh hamdardi dikha le” she whined.

“Tu na sar mein hawa leke ghoomti hai. Susti se nikal, pata nahi kya bakwaas kar rahi hai. Kaan khol ke sun- meri baat…” she waved her diamond-clad ring finger toward the screen. “Pakki ho gayi hai” she clarified, hoping her best friend would finally understand, which she did loud and clear judging by the shriek she let out.

Her mother yelled back from the kitchen, “Befazool cheekhna band karo warna main bahar aa ke wajah deti hoon cheekhne ke liye. Chidiya ghar nahi hai yeh!”

Y/N ignored her mother’s lecture and replied softly, “Mujhe sab kuch bata. Abhi!” while running upstairs to her room.

[The Night]

True to Yalina’s word, Y/N was there for it all: wedding outfit selections, flower-arrangement fiascos, taste-testing reception sweets, and lying to vendors for free goodies. Alongside late-night anxieties about what kind of wife she would make, the last week had been an erratic whirlwind; especially last night, when Yalina had casually declared that Y/N alone would do her bridal mehndi for her.

Y/N nearly choked on her kheer at the announcement. According to the bride, it was only fair to keep their childhood tradition alive. Y/N had shot the idea down repeatedly before eventually caving to her chottu’s relentless tantrums.

So here she sat, in the veranda of the Jamali mansion, glowing with twinkle lights wrapped around its pillars and entrance gates. Flowers threaded through the surrounding walls and hung beneath the open sky, as though blessing the bride-to-be with their beauty and essence. Yalina sat at the center, surrounded by family, guests, dholki singers, and little children dancing in celebration around her. Y/N sat to her right, laughing under her breath while carefully tracing mehndi onto Yalina’s hands. The night was jovial, bright, and comforting- a perfect reflection of both Yalina and Y/N. Familiar to their habits, the duo spent the night gossiping, dancing, whining for food, and teasing each other relentlessly. The crowd fluttered between the food stalls and the bride herself, doting on her endlessly, when Yalina noticed her fiancé, Hamza, walking in alongside Uzair.

Yalina tugged her hand back slightly, planning on walking towards Hamza while Y/N clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Haat mat hila. Saari mehndi kharab kar degi tu. Main phir nahi lagaungi. Waise hi meri peeth dard kar rahi hai aur tune mujhe khana bhi nahi khilaya” she tugged Yalina’s hand back into place and continued her work carefully.

“Ruk ja. Hamza aaya hai” Yalina whispered excitedly, glancing toward him through the dancing crowd.

“Arrey waah. Shauhar saab se kuch pal door nahi raha jata? Bas 24 ghante aur. Phir jitna unke paas jana hai ja. Main kuch nahi bolungi” Y/N teased with a smirk, still not letting go of Yalina’s hand in hopes of maintaining her rhythm.

“Aur bakbak kari na toh yeh saari mehndi tere mun pe laga dungi… ruk yahan, kuch kha le. Main abhi aai.”

Before Y/N could protest, Yalina hurried toward Hamza, nearly tripping over her lehenga in the process. Y/N giggled softly as she watched her best friend’s antics. She shifted slightly, stretching her sore back while reorganizing the scattered mehndi cones beside her. The cool night breeze brushed against her face, but another breath followed close after it, warmer, closer. She moved her head to find the source of the breeze when she was startled by the presence of a tall man sitting across from her.

Who was he, and why was he here?

She smiled-maybe he was someone Yalina knew. He was handsome nonetheless, clad in a black kurta with gold mirror work spanning across the fabric. He had broad shoulders, tense in posture, and long arms that complemented his veiny hands, his fingers curling against his knees as though he suddenly did not know what to do with them.

Y/N cleared her throat, catching herself before she gawked at him even more, and softly asked, “Aap kaun?”

Uzair couldn’t respond. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything.

It was her.

Her. Her. Her. In front of him. His pari.

For days he had resisted accompanying Hamza to the mehndi ceremony, choosing instead to rot inside his room with the cruel realization that the girl he had finally found had disappeared from his life just as suddenly. Hamza had dragged him here against his will.

Y/N laughed awkwardly at his lack of response and looked around for someone familiar to help her because truly, who was he?

Uzair’s heart restarted at her breathy laugh. He gulped shyly and finally managed, “M-main Uzair… Hamza ka dost.”

“Ahh, achha,” she hummed. “Sorry, maine aapko pehchana nahi. Kabhi unki taraf se kisi se mulaqat hi nahi hui hai” Y/N responded honestly.

“Koi baat nahi…” he looked away, wiping his clammy, sweat-ridden hands on his pants to calm his nervousness.

“A-”

“Aap Yalina ki mehndi kar rahi hain?” Uzair rushed to break the stretching silence, and Y/N blinked back in surprise.

“Haan. Bachpan se mein hum dono ki mehndi karti thi. Eid par, birthdays par, har choti badi cheez par. Phir usne zid ki ke shaadi ki mehndi bhi mein hi lagaun. Purane dino ki tarah” she reminisced.

“Kafi pyari yaadein hain… aapki tarah” he remarked with a soft smile.

“Hein?” Y/N frowned towards him softly, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

He stared at her wide-eyed, “Nahi. Mera matlab…” He coughed awkwardly. “Kuch nahi.”

“Waise…” Uzair spoke carefully this time. “Aap mujhe bhi mehndi laga sakti hain?”

“Kya?” she stared at him. “Aapko mehndi lagwani hai?” she clarified falteringly.

“Agar aapko ajeeb na lage toh” he urged anxiously, not wanting to be perceived as weird.

“Main ne kabhi mardon ke haathon par aise–”

“Koi baat nahi, main pehla hi sahi” he interrupted softly, extending his hand forward, but his gaze stayed fixed on her face.

Her eyes were wide in surprise. Her brows drew together before softening into hesitation as her smile faded and she bit the inside of her cheek anxiously. She glanced around, searching for an escape or at least a familiar face, but when she saw Yalina immersed in conversation with Hamza, now pulling him away from the crowd, she had no choice but to look back at the charming man in front of her.

Her gaze flickered back to an awaiting Uzair, then down at his extended hand. She lingered. Just for a moment. Searching his expression for confirmation, unsure if this was a joke or if he was actually serious. But when she met the quiet optimism in his eyes, something in her softened at his sincerity. She finally placed his calloused yet velvety hand in hers.

“Kya chahenge aap apne haathon par?” she asked while prepping her mehndi cone. His hands strangely felt delicate against hers, as if the scars scattered across them were nothing but false accusations tainting his worth.

“Aapka naam.” he answered in a heartbeat

“Ji?!” she breathed, caught off guard, snapping her head up in shock.

Uzair nearly cursed himself. “Nahi, mera matlab…” He stumbled over his words instantly. “Aapka naam mujhe pata nahi. Toh bina naam ke…”

“Oh, achha- mera naam Y/N hai” she exhaled in relief.

The name settled somewhere deep inside Uzair’s chest. Y/N. Bright. Sweet. Delicate against his tongue.

“Bahut pyara naam hai… Y/N,” he tested it softly and couldn’t help but smile at how perfectly it fit her. “Jo aap banana chahein… wahi qabool hai.” He smiled at her. The way he said it made her heartbeat stumble unexpectedly, yet she nodded and began tracing on his palm.

Uzair remained completely still throughout it all. His eyes rarely left her face, almost afraid she would disappear if he blinked too long. He couldn’t believe he had found her again in this wave of people. He would have missed her had her signature gold jhumkas not caught his eye.

She looked brighter today. A blue sharara with golden accents highlighted her frame, making her seem like part of the night itself. Her braid rested over her shoulder, decorated with a gold paranda and tiny white flowers, surrounding him with her scent- one he would embed in every fiber of his being if she allowed him to.

Her cheeks were still pink, but softer tonight, dulled slightly by exhaustion. He noticed the tiny childhood scar hidden beneath her makeup- he would kiss it away for her every night if he could. He noticed she continued biting the inside of her cheek, a sign that she was engrossed and concentrating on the task in front of her, her nose releasing soft, steady breaths to keep her hands still, hands he wanted to hold till the end of time.

To break the lingering silence, he asked her quiet questions. She told him about interior design. About her love for sketching and coloring. About wanting to travel through old cities rich with history and stories. She spoke gently, never louder than necessary, but Uzair found himself wishing she would continue talking long after her sentences ended. Her voice was the only sound that soothed his restless heart.

At some point, a strand of hair slipped loose beside her face. Y/N tried brushing it away unsuccessfully without ruining the mehndi. Uzair moved before thinking. His free hand lifted carefully, tucking the strand behind her ear. Her jhumkas tinkled softly- its charm still echoing around Uzair. His fingers barely grazed her skin, but goosebumps still erupted along her arms instantly.

Y/N’s breath caught. She did not dare meet his eyes, knowing she would lose herself in them.

Lost in his daze, Uzair never realized when she finished.

She exhaled in relief after completing her work, admiring the design, then looked up to tell him, but paused.

Their faces were mere millimeters apart. 

Her breath hitched. His eyes were dark, deeper than the ocean at night yet strangely inviting. They held hesitation, yet innocence. A small scar traced his cheekbone, similar to hers, but his felt unfair against the softness of his expression. For someone built so intimidatingly, there was an unbearable gentleness to him. Y/N felt it in the way he kept staring at her- his somber eyes flickering between hers. In the way his hand remained relaxed inside hers, trusting her completely.

His lips remained slightly parted, as though he had something to confess, but words were lost.

Neither moved.

The space between them held stillness, fragile and dangerous. Their shallow breaths mingled in the small space as the festivities outside blurred around them.

A soft grunt broke the trance from behind Uzair. Y/N pulled back first, blinking as reality returned.

Yalina stood there with a knowing glint in her eyes but said nothing as she sat back down beside Y/N. Her gaze moved between a flustered Uzair and a frozen Y/N before she finally spoke.

“Uzair bhai… Hamza aapko dhoond raha hai, shayad wapis haveli jana hoga.” She smiled teasingly at his flustered state.

He nodded and stood up hastily, glancing around the veranda, trying to escape the cloud he had lost himself to.

Yalina looked at her blush-ridden best friend and snorted as Y/N quickly returned to reworking her mehndi. She noticed him about to rub his hands again and warned, “Uzair!” He stopped instantly. “Haat mat ragadna! Saari mehndi kapdon pe lag jayegi!”

He looked at her worried face. She was worried about his mehndi. Something unbearably soft settled inside him as he nodded quietly.

“Mehndi ke liye shukriya… kaafi haseen hai.” His eyes lingered on her one final time. “Aap ke haathon mein jaadu hai” he admitted, hearing his friend call him again. Y/N smiled before she could stop herself. He turned to Yalina, congratulated her quietly, and left with Hamza waiting nearby.

The moment he reached Hamza, his friend immediately grabbed his wrist suspiciously. “Tu meri dulhan hai?”

“Haan, tera naam chhupa hua hai isme,” he retorted, extending his hand. “Dhoond ke dikha, taaki pata chale kitna pyaar karta hai tu mujhse.”

“Haraami,” Hamza muttered, rolling his eyes. “Mujhe koi shauk nahi apna pyaar jatane ka, woh bhi tujhse.” Still, his gaze drifted toward Yalina’s mehndi-covered hands waiting for him across the veranda. She recognized his reverence and offered an enamored smile. “Kaafi khoobsurat kaam hai yeh” he muttered softly.

Uzair glanced down at his own hand again before replying, “Kaafi.”

“Tujhe kya lagta hai? Rang gehra aayega?” Hamza asked, his sight lingering at his dulhan’s hands.

Uzair’s eyes drifted back to Y/N. He spotted her quietly observing him.

He gave her a small wave. She returned it softly. Smitten.

“Gehra aayega.” Uzair confirmed.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆