I hate summers

The golden, dusky hues of the late afternoon faded into the rich twilight of Eid glow . Inside the grand Haveli, the air was thick with the rich, intoxicating aromas of burning roasted oud, sweet saffron, and simmering biryani. Evening had officially set in, casting a warm, romantic glow over the bustling home.

Upstairs, in the master bedroom, the atmosphere was far more intimate. Rehman leaned against the polished wooden mirror frame, his hair slightly damp, watching his wife through the glass with a slow, devastating smirk. Ulfat was attempting to adjust the borders of her heavy embroidered dupatta, but Rehman’s persistent gazes and even more persistent hands were making it entirely impossible.

"Rehman, please," Ulfat whispered, her cheeks flushed a bright rose tint as his fingers gently trailed down the exposed curve of her nape. "The guests will be here any minute. We need to go downstairs."

"Let them wait," Rehman murmured, leaning down to press a warm, lingering kiss right behind her earlobe, his hand sliding around her waist to pull her back against his chest. "It’s Eid, Begum. And my eyes haven't even had their feast yet."

"You've been 'feasting' your eyes for the last two hours," she teased, trying to wiggle out of his hold, though her hands instinctively rested over his arms. "And we are supposed to be getting ready, not—"

"Not what?" he chuckled against her neck, his voice dropping an octave, teasing and flirtatious. "Not admiring my own wife?"

On the center of the plush four-poster bed sat little Nemat, their toddler daughter. Utterly indifferent to her parents' romantic banter, Nemat was sitting dressed in a tiny, customized cream and gold-red lehenga. She had managed to pull her foot up to her mouth and was currently deeply engrossed in the serious business of tasting her own little toes, occasionally letting out a happy babble.

Before Rehman could press his advantage and steal another kiss from Ulfat, the heavy wooden doors of the bedroom burst open without a single courtesy knock.

"Abba! Look!"

In marched Naieem, carrying himself with the quiet pride of a young man, followed closely by Faizal , who was bouncing on his heels. Right behind them was Uzair, wearing an identical expression of smug triumph.

Rehman immediately straightened up, clearing his throat while Ulfat quickly pulled her dupatta over her shoulders, stepping away with an embarrassed cough.

"Do you people even know how to knock?" Rehman grumbled, adjusting his cuffs while glaring playfully at his brother.

"Knock? On Eid?" Uzair scoffed, striding into the room and spreading his arms wide to showcase his outfit. "Look at us first, Bhai! Tell us who looks the best."

All three of them— Naieem, Faizal, and Uzair were dressed in identical, exquisitely tailored cream-colored silk kurtas featuring delicate threadwork along the collar and cuffs. It was an exact replica of the cream kurta Rehman was currently wearing.

Faizal puffed out his chest. "Abba, look! We look like a royal army. Yours is just a bigger size!"

"More like a bunch of copycats," Rehman drawled, though a proud smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked at his sons and brother. "You couldn't come up with your own style, Uzair?"

"Why innovate when the classic works?" Uzair laughed, reaching down on the bed to scoop up little Nemat, who giggled instantly and stopped her foot-tasting session to grab at her uncle’s embroidered collar. "Look at our princess, sitting here while her parents delay the whole evening."

Naieem shook his head fondly at his parents, noticing the remaining blush on his mother’s face. "Ammi, the preparations downstairs are complete. Akhlaq Chacha was asking for you."

"I am coming, beta," Ulfat said quickly, giving Rehman a subtle, stern glance that silently said see what you did? "Let's all go down together."

The grand courtyard downstairs was lit up with dozens of warm yellow lanterns and fairy lights draped over the marble archways. As the family descended the sweeping staircase, a tall, well-built man stepped forward from the doorway.

It was Hamza, Rehman’s most trusted right-hand man, who was considered nothing short of a family member in the Haveli. He was holding a stack of sweet boxes, looking sharp and elegant—dressed in the exact same cream-colored kurta as the rest of the men.

Uzair broke into a wide grin the moment he spotted him. "Oh, look! The cream kurta club gains another member! Hamza, did you steal the fabric from Rehman Bhai’s room too?"

Hamza rubbed the back of his neck, a slight, rare blush creeping up his rugged face as he smiled respectfully at Rehman and Ulfat. "Eid Mubarak, Rehman Bhai. Bhabhi. I....well, Uzair kept insisting we all match this year."

"It suits you, Hamza," Ulfat said warmly, stepping down. "Eid Mubarak to you."

"Eid Mubarak, Bhabhi," Hamza replied softly.

Before Uzair could tease Hamza further, heavy footsteps echoed from the main entrance, accompanied by a hearty, booming laugh. Jameel Jamali, a politician and long-time family friend, stepped into the courtyard, draped in an opulent shawl. Walking beside him was his graceful wife, Shabnam Jamali, and behind them came their daughter, Yalina Jamali.

Yalina looked breathtaking in a deep crimson sharara that contrasted sharply with the Haveli's pastel theme. The moment she crossed the threshold, her eyes subtly scanned the room until they locked onto Hamza.

Hamza’s breath caught in his throat. Standing by the pillar, he subtly adjusted his collar, his eyes lingering on Yalina for a second too long. Yalina caught his gaze, her lips curving into a shy, secret smile as her cheeks turned a violent shade of red. Unknown to the rest of the world, the two had been quietly dating for months, hiding their sweet romance behind lingering looks and stolen moments.

"Eid Mubarak, Rehman!" Jameel Jamali called out, stepping forward with open arms.

"Eid Mubarak, Jamali Sahab!" Rehman met him halfway, embracing him warmly, followed by Uzair and the boys giving their respect. Shabnam and Ulfat embraced tightly, exchanging warm greetings and laughter while Yalina respectfully stepped forward to hug Ulfat and kiss little Nemat’s chubby cheeks.

Jameel turned his attention to the boys, his gaze landing on Faizal, who suddenly tried to hide behind his older brother Naieem.

"Ah, Faizal!" Jameel exclaimed, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around the young boy's shoulders. "Eid Mubarak, mere bacche! Tell me, how are the studies going? Maine suna tum 8th class main phir se fail ho gaye, Jameel mamu ki tarah politician banoge !"

The entire courtyard erupted into laughter. Faizal groaned, turning beet red.

"Jameel uncle, don't encourage him!" Naieem chimed in with a laugh. "He already thinks he's the king of the house."

Amidst the hearty laughter and lighthearted banter, the family transitioned into the main dining hall. The massive dining table was a sight to behold— spread wide with a regal feast consisting of fragrant mutton biryani, rich chicken korma, crispy kebabs, sheer khurma, and endless bowls of dry fruits and naan.

Everyone took their seats around the long table. Naieem sat near the center, lifting little Nemat onto his lap. The toddler was fascinated by her brothers. With her tiny, chubby hands, she began reaching up, playfully touching Naieem’s jawline and then leaning over to poke Faizal’s nose.

Faizal made ridiculous faces every time she touched him, causing Nemat to burst into high-pitched, toothless giggles. The entire table paused to watch the sweet bond, everyone admiring the tender moment between the siblings.

"Look at her," Shabnam said softly, her hands folded over her chest. "She has her father's eyes, but all of Ulfat's charm."

"And her brothers are already her personal bodyguards," Jameel added, taking a bite of a kebab.

Meanwhile, sitting diagonally across from each other, Hamza and Yalina were engaged in their own silent, hidden world. Every time Hamza reached for a jug of water or passed a dish down the table, his eyes would catch Yalina’s. Yalina quickly took a sip of her drink to hide her blushing cheeks, her fingers lightly messing with the delicate glass bangles on her wrist.

Rehman, reached out toward a large platter of fiery, spicy nihari that had just been brought out.

Before his fingers could even touch the serving spoon, Ulfat’s hand smoothly intercepted his path. She gently slid the spicy dish away from his reach and replaced it with a milder, aromatic bowl of chicken stew.

"Not that one," Ulfat murmured softly, her tone firm yet brimming with care. "You know your stomach gets upset with too much red chili. Have this instead."

Rehman paused, looking at the bowl she had placed in front of him, and then lifted his eyes to meet hers. A soft, devastatingly handsome smile spread across his face. Instead of protesting, he leaned slightly toward her, his gaze filled with pure adoration.

"Jaisa aap kahen, meri jaan," Rehman said in a deep, velvet voice that was meant only for her, yet carried just enough to be heard by those closest to them.

Ulfat’s breath hitched. A deep, instant blush rushed to her face at his bold choice of words in front of the entire family. "Rehman....everyone is watching," she whispered under her breath, playfully nudging him with her elbow to make him behave.

Instead of backing off, Rehman let out a low chuckle. Under the cover of the heavy tablecloth, his long arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. Ulfat went still, her cheeks burning red-hot with shyness as she felt the firm grip of his hand resting snugly on her waist.

"Oh, look at them!" Shabnam teased loudly, clapping her hands together with a hearty laugh. "Decades together, three kids, and they still behave like newlyweds! Ulfat, my dear, how do you manage to blush like a young bride even today?"

"Auntie, Abbu never misses a chance to flirt," Naieem commented with a smirk, while feeding a small piece of soft bread to Nemat. "Even we feel invisible sometimes."

"Hey, respect your father!" Rehman warned playfully, though he didn't loosen his hold on Ulfat’s waist for a second, enjoying her delightful embarrassment.

After a few more minutes of lively conversation and delicious food, Ulfat managed to gently pry Rehman’s hand away. She cleared her throat and stood up from her chair, smoothing down her designer kameez.

"Please enjoy, everyone," Ulfat said, trying to regain her composure. "I will just go to the kitchen to check if Akhlaq Chacha needs any help with the desserts."

"Bhabhi, everything is already on the table, why bother?" Uzair pointed out, his mouth full of biryani.

"Still, I'll just double-check," she insisted, giving a sweet smile before turning around and walking toward the quiet, dim corridor that led to the back kitchen area.

Rehman watched her retreat. Without skipping a beat, he casually wiped his hands with a napkin, pushed his chair back, and stood up.

"Where are you going, Bhai?" Uzair asked innocently.

"Just....checking on the dessert situation," Rehman replied smoothly, not even trying to hide his intentions.

The entire table burst into collective giggles and knowing chuckles. Uzair shook his head, laughing out loud, while Naieem leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in fond admiration at how hopelessly in love his parents still were. Even little Nemat clapped her small hands together, babbling loudly as if she completely agreed with her brothers' unsaid thoughts.

Ulfat walked down the dimly lit hallway leading toward the kitchen, taking a deep breath of the cooler air to soothe her burning cheeks.

Suddenly, a strong, familiar hand gripped her wrist from behind.

Before she could gasp, Rehman gently but firmly pulled her sideways, tucking her neatly into the quiet shadow behind the heavy archway door.

"Rehman!" she gasped softly, her back hitting the smooth cool wall as he pressed close, trapping her within the frame of his broad shoulders. "What are you doing? Someone will see!"

"Let them see," Rehman murmured, his voice thick with playfulness and desire. "You left the table, Begum. Did you really think I wouldn't follow?"

"I came to check on the kitchen!" she insisted, her voice trembling slightly as his proximity sent a familiar shiver down her spine. "You are completely shameless, you know that?"

"Only for you," he whispered smoothly.

Slowly, deliberately, Rehman slid his warm, large hands under the hem of her heavily embroidered kameez. His bare fingers made contact with the smooth skin of her bare waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Ulfat’s breath hitched instantly, her hands flying up to rest against his broad chest to steady herself. "Rehman..." she breathed out, her eyes fluttering shut at his touch.

Instead of answering, Rehman leaned down and captured her lips in a slow, deep, lingering kiss. It was filled with years of unyielding love, warmth, and the quiet passion that had only grown stronger over time. Ulfat melted into the embrace, her fingers gripping the fabric of his cream kurta tightly.

When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against hers, both of them were slightly breathless.

Ulfat opened her eyes, looking up at him through her long eyelashes. She let out a quiet, shy laugh, breaking the sudden intensity. She glanced past his shoulder toward another dimly lit corner visible through the archway window.

There, stood Hamza and Yalina. Believing they were entirely unobserved, Hamza was delicately holding out a small velvet box, gifting Yalina a pair of stunning silver earrings. Yalina’s face was glowing with absolute joy as she accepted them, her shy giggles echoing faintly.

Ulfat looked back up at Rehman, a teasing smile gracing her lips. "Look at them. Ye sab Hamza aur Yalina karte theek lagte hain, Rehman," she whispered softly, pointing subtly toward the young couple.

Rehman casually turned his head to look in the direction she indicated, watching his right-hand man awkwardly try to help Yalina put on the earring. A fond smirk appeared on Rehman's face.

Taking advantage of his turned head, Ulfat stood on her tiptoes, pressed a soft, warm kiss directly onto his cheek, and leaned into his ear.

"Teen bachon ke baap ho..." she whispered cheekily, her eyes dancing with mischief. "...Lekin lagte nahi ho."

Rehman turned his gaze back to her, a slow, ridiculously handsome flush rising on his own cheeks as he looked at his wife. He let out a low, husky laugh, his grip on her waist tightening just a little bit more as he leaned in close to her ear.

"Aap bhi khana lagti hai, Begum," he murmured shyly yet boldly, his lips brushing her earlobe. "Aap kahen toh do-teen bacche aur karlein?"

Ulfat gasped, her entire face bursting into a bright, flaming shade of red.

"Rehman!" she chided him gently, giving him a firm push on his chest while biting back a huge, uncontrollable smile.

She quickly ducked under his arm, gathering her ornate dupatta, and hurriedly blushed her way back toward the bustling light of the dining room—leaving her husband standing behind the door, grinning like a smitten teenager on Eid night.