Where desire meets darkness

The days after didn't change, and the routine felt like a physical weight.

Faizal still dragged his feet when it was time for his afternoon nap at two. His milk still had to be heated to exactly the right temperature, or he’d push the cup away with both hands, glaring up at you from his small study table as if you’d personally insulted him. In the kitchen, the parathas still hissed on the iron tawa; outside, the morning azaan still rose over the compound wall, followed by the gravelly voices of Rehman's men shifting crates in the courtyard below.

But there was a new pressure in the air.

Ulfat didn't look through you anymore. The blank, milky stare she had carried since the funeral was gone, replaced by something sharp. You would find her standing at the end of the long corridor near the boy's room, her fingers hooking into the carved woodwork of the doorframe. When you walked past, her eyes followed the movement of your throat as you swallowed. You kept your head down, focusing on the floor tiles, pretending the hairs on your arms weren't standing up. It was just your imagination. It had to be.

The guard came on a Thursday evening.

You were folding a stack of Faizal's clean clothes, his small kameezes and socks, when the shadow blocked the doorway. The men never crossed the threshold into the family quarters, but his voice was loud enough to break the quiet of the room.

"Sardar aapko apne study mein bula rahe hain."

The fabric slipped from your fingers. Rehman Baloch had never sent for you after dark. You pulled your dupatta tight across your chest, your hands suddenly cold and clumsy, and followed the guard's heavy boots down the hall. The yellow wall-sconces cast long, distorted shadows ahead of you.

The study door was ajar, letting out a thick scent of stale tobacco and heavy wood polish. Rehman stood by the tall window, his broad back blocking most of the moonlight. He didn't look back when your hesitant footsteps paused just inside the door.

"Ander aao. Darwaza band kar do."

You clicked the heavy latch shut and stayed by the wall, keeping your eyes on the intricate maroon patterns of the Persian rug. "Jee, Sardar? Faizal theek toh hai?"

"Faizal theek hai."

He ground his cigarette into a brass ashtray with unnecessary force. When he turned, the lamplight hit the deep, dark purple pockets under his eyes. His shoulders were slouched forward, stripping away the fierce posture he usually held in front of his men.

He walked around the heavy mahogany desk, his slippers dragging slightly on the rug, until he stopped a few feet away.

"Tumhare abba ki halat kaisi hai ab? Chote bhai ki padhai? Factory se jo paise bheje ja rahe hain, woh kafi hain?"

The sudden questions made your chest tighten. "Jee... aapki bohot meherbani hai. Guzara bohot achhi tarah ho raha hai. Main hamesha aapki shukur-guzar..."

"Mujhe tumhara shukriya nahi chahiye," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. He looked past your shoulder, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, filling the gap between you. "Mujhe... kuch aur chahiye."

You kept your hands folded in your linen suit, squeezing your own fingers until they throbbed.

"Ulfat ki halat din-b-din kharab hoti ja rahi hai," he said, his tone flat, empty of its usual authority. "Doctors kehte hain ke agar uske zehen ko koi umeed nahi mili, toh... puri tarah pagal ho jayegi. Main usey is tarah khatam hote nahi dekh sakta."

"Begum sahiba bohot takleef mein hain," you whispered, your throat dry. "Lekin... main ek mulazim hoon. Main kya kar sakti hoon?"

He stepped closer. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne was overpowering.

"Usey apna beta wapas chahiye. Ek naya bacha, jisme mera khoon ho. Aur tum janti ho....Ulfat ab maa nahi ban sakti."

Your breath hitched. You looked down at his leather sandals, unable to process the words.

"Main tumse nikah karna chahta hoon."

The word hung there. Nikah. It didn't belong in this dark, wood-scented office. It belonged to wedding music, family gatherings, and red silk. It didn't belong to a transaction in the middle of the night. Your eyes darted to the brass buttons on his vest, counting them automatically because looking at his face felt dangerous.

"N-Nahi..." The word was thin, breaking in your throat. "Sardar, aap yeh kya keh rahe hain? Main... main ek mamooli ladki hoon. Aapke ghar ka namak khati hoon...."

A sharp creak echoed directly behind you.

Your spine locked.

Ulfat didn't slide gracefully out of the shadows; she was just suddenly standing right there by the edge of the bookshelf, her bare feet pale against the dark rug. There was no cloth doll in her arms tonight. Her hair was tangled, but her eyes were piercingly clear. Terrifyingly clear.

She walked over without a sound and stopped close enough that you could smell the stale rosewater on her clothes. Without a word, she raised her right hand and pressed her palm firmly against your stomach.

​You flinched and stumbled backwards, but Rehman’s hand came down heavily on your shoulder; he didn't squeeze, but his weight anchored you to the spot.

Ulfat looked up into your face. Her skin was gray under the lamp, but her hand stayed pressed against your belly, warm and heavy. A tear slid down your nose, and she caught it with her thumb, smearing the wetness across your cheek.

"Ghabrao mat," she whispered. Her voice didn't shake. "Tum meri choti behen jaisi rahogi. Tumhare abba ka sheher ke sabse bade hospital mein ilaaj hoga. Tumhari maa ko kabhi haath nahi phelana padega." Her palm pressed a little harder into your flesh. "Bas... tum mujhe mera Naieem wapas de do."

You looked at Rehman. He was staring at the wall behind you, his mouth drawn into a thin, tight line. He looked like a man who had exhausted every option, a man who knew exactly how monstrous this was but was going to do it anyway.

"Faisla tumhara hai," Rehman said, his voice flat. "Bahar jaogi toh wahi tumhara purana ghar hai, wahi bhookmari hai. Yahan rukogi, toh is ghar ki izzat banogi."

Images flashed through your mind : not in a grand sequence, but in sharp, ugly bursts. Your father’s paralyzed arm hanging uselessly over the side of the string cot. The empty flour canister in the kitchen. Your little brother gluing the sole of his shoe back together for the third time.

Your knees felt weak under the weight of Rehman's hand.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded once.

Ulfat didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into her chest. She gripped you so tightly it hurt, her fingers digging into your shoulder blades. She buried her face in your neck, releasing a ragged, choking sob that sounded like a lock finally snapping open.

Over her shoulder, Rehman slowly looked down at the floor, his face completely blank as the clock kept ticking.

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"Interesting..."

Pedro looked over his shoulder,"Kya?"

"The killer deleted the footage."

"Haan-."

"But sirf delete nahi kiya"He enlarged a log on the screen.

"Dekho. Camera recordings gayi. Door lock logs gaye. Motion sensor history gayi."

Pedro frowned,"So?"

"So agar koi normal hacker hota, poora system uda deta."

"Hmm."

"Yeh banda selective tha."He tapped the screen,"Usse pata tha exactly kya delete karna hai."

The room grew quieter around them.

Even the investigating officer leaned closer, "So according to you...yeh murder tha?" he asked.

Pritam shrugged,"Murder tha ya nahi ...yeh toh aap log bataoge."

He looked toward the staircase,"Main bas itna bol raha hoon... jisne system hack kiya, usse crime scene ki kahani change karni thi."

Pedro had worked with Pritam long enough to know that whenever he started spewing a lot of information....he had noticed something.

"The body?" Pedro asked.

"Study." The investigating officer said.

The three of them walked upstairs.

The victim lay slumped on chair behind a massive teak desk, one hand stretched on the table while the other on the side. Blood stained the polished wooden floor, the edge of the carpet and one side of the wall.

Pritam didn't go near the body.

Instead, he slowly walked around the room.

His eyes moved from the wall...to the desk....to the small blood droplets on the bookshelf....then back to the body.

"Huh."

Pedro folded his arms."Kya hua?"

"I don't know."

"So helpful."

"I'm serious."

Pritam pointed towards the wall,"Mujhe forensic nahi aati, lekin agar body yahan mili hai..."

He pointed to the floor."...toh blood udhar itna zyada kyun hai?"

Pedro looked.

The blood spatter behind the desk looked unusually dense.The body, however, was  metres away.

The inspector spoke first."Victim ne jab gun chalai, tab movement ke wajah se shayad blood waha gir gaya ho-."

"Ho sakta hai," Pedro admitted, nodding to the officer."But..."

"But?"

"I'd like someone who actually understands blood patterns to tell me I'm wrong."

The officer nodded once,"Fair."

Pedro pulled out his phone,"Ek expert ko bulata hoon. Then we will have all the answers."

The investigating officer nodded in approval and went to interrogate the others presnt in the house.

---

Pritam smirked,"Who are you calling, sir? Crime Branch ke Sherlock Holmes ko?"

"Nahi."

"Senior doctor friend of yours then?"

"Nahi."

"Toh?"

Pedro smiled faintly, "meri saali sahiba ko"

The phone rang once,"Haan Pedro bhai?"

"Aa sakti ho?"

"Case?"

"Murder."

"Fresh?"

"Teen ghante."

"Location bhejo."

The line disconnected.

---

Nearly fifteen minutes later, the soft puttering of a scooter drifted through the open front door.

A pastel blue scooter rolled neatly between two police vehicles.

The rider removed her helmet, hooked it over the handlebar and lifted a black forensic case from the footboard before walking towards the house.

Pritam happened to glance outside.

Then froze,"...Nahi."

She climbed the front steps, looked up and stopped walking.

For two whole seconds...neither of them spoke.

Then- "TUM?!"

Her voice echoed through the hallway.

Pritam pointed at her in disbelief, "TUM?!"

Every head in the room turned.

Pedro looked from one to the other.

"...Ek minute."

Y/N recovered first. She looked at Pedro.

"Bhaoji..."

"Haan...?"

"Yeh yahan kya kar raha hai?!"

At exactly the same time-

Pritam threw both hands into the air.

"Nahi, pehle yeh batao, YEH yahan kya kar rahi hai?"

Pedro frowned,"...Tum dono ek dusre ko jaante ho?"

Both answered without missing a beat.

"YEH SCAMMER HAI!" "Itni fussy customer maine zindagi mein nahi dekhi!"

Silence.

A constable quietly lowered the evidence marker in his hand. The crime scene photographer stopped clicking pictures.

Someone in the back whispered,"Sir... lagta hai doosra murder hone wala hai."

Pedro looked utterly confused.

"Scammer?"..."fussy customer..?"

Y/N folded her arms,"Isne mujhe vacuum cleaner becha."

Pedro looked at Pritam,"...Tum vacuum cleaner bechte ho?"

"Haa bola toh tha apko, Part-time karta hoon"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken,"Do saal ki warranty bolke becha."

"Haan toh thi na do saal ki warranty-"

"Teen din mein kharab ho gaya woh khatara!"

"Company ki problem hai!"

"Main ek hafte se customer care ko phone kar rahi hoon!"

"Main bhi kar raha hoon!"

She stared,"...Tum...bhi call kar rahe ho?"

"Haan, and they don't pick my calls either!"

Pedro rubbed his forehead,"Ek minute...Wait-"

Neither of them stopped.

"Tumne bola tha doorstep service!"

"Maine bola tha company degi!"

"Tum company hi toh ho!"

"Main salesman hu!"

"Mujhe farak nahi padta!"

"Mujhe padta hai!"

"Scammer!"

"Impossible customer!"

Pedro suddenly clapped his hands.

The sharp sound cut through the argument.

"Bas!"

Both fell silent.

Pedro pointed towards the house,"Yaad hai hum yahan kyun aaye hain?"

Neither answered.

"Murder. Vacuum cleaner ka consumer court baad mein laga lena."

A few officers coughed suspiciously to hide their laughter.

Pedro sighed,"Tum dono ke jo bhi personal issues hai, woh iss crime scene ke bahar rahenge."

He turned to Y/N,"Tum study mein jaake body dekh lo."

Then to Pritam,"Aur tu... please paanch minute ke liye chup rehna."

Pritam held up both hands,"Theek hai."

Y/N shot him one last glare before walking up to the study.

Pritam and Pedro followed and saw her kneeling beside the victim. In one smooth motion she tied back her hair, slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and opened her forensic kit.

The irritation disappeared from her face and turned into ultra sharp focus.

She examined the blood on the floor first, then the wall, then the victim's hands.

Pritam, who had every intention of looking away, found himself watching instead.

Five minutes ago she'd been calling him a scamner and now she was completely absorbed in a murder scene.

Pedro caught him staring,"Kya?"

"Nothing."

Pritam looked back at Y/N as she quietly measured the angle of the bloodstains,"...Bas soch raha hoon."

"Kya..soch raha hai?"

Pritam didn't answer Pedro, and instead kept looking at her for a second too long.

The anger from the earlier argument with him was still there, faintly visible in the set of her jaw, but it no longer ruled her face. That had happened the moment she opened her forensic kit. It was like someone had turned a key inside her and switched her from annoyed customer into a professional woman with far more important things to do.

Pritam found that a little unfair.

People who could do that should not also have such sharp beautiful eyes....wait...beautiful what? What was he even thinking!?

Pritam shook his head to get rid of those thoughts and continued watching her work.

The investigating officer, on the other hand, was too impatient for silence. He had already decided the shape of the case in his head, and his mind kept trying to force the case to fit that shape. Suicide. Locked room. Gun in hand. No visible intruder. It was neat. Tidy. Almost comforting. Men like him always loved a neat theory; it meant the world could still be explained by the things they already knew.

Y/N asked for a flashlight and a ruler. One of the constables handed them over immediately. Pritam did not miss the fact that she barely looked up when she took the ruler. That should not have bothered him. It was not as though they were friends. It was not as though they’d shared anything beyond one horribly memorable vacuum cleaner transaction and one very public argument over customer care. But still, some part of him had expected her to acknowledge him. Some part of him wanted to see her eyes on him.

She did not even glance in his direction.

And that, somehow, bothered him more than it should have.

She measured the angle of the blood spray against the wall, then the height of the chair, then the distance between the body and the desk. Her lips pressed together in thought.

“This is not a simple self inflicted shot,”she said as she stood up.

The officer frowned. “Ma’am, gun toh uske haath ke paas thi.”

She nodded once, as if that didn’t matter much at all,“Gun haath ke paas rakh dene se suicide nahi ban jaata.”

She walked behind the chair, careful not to disturb the evidence markers. The back spatter was there, as Pedro and Pritam had already noticed, but under her gaze it became something more precise.

“There’s too much blood on the wall behind the desk,” she murmured.

The officer blinked. “Gunshot ki wajah se?”

“Gunshot ki wajah se blood aata hai,” she replied, “par pattern alag hota hai.”

She glanced at the victim’s shoulder next, and then at the position of the chair. Her fingers hovered over the fabric of the backrest without touching it.

“This body was moved,” she said.

That actually pulled Pedro’s attention in more sharply.

“Moved?”

She nodded. “Haan. SIGSW ke cases mein body ki postion iss se different hoti hai. Jis position mein yeh mila, uske hisaab se iss particular angle mein, woh bhi itne pass se goli chalana is almost impossible.”

She pointed once, briefly, toward the floor behind the desk. “From my theory, primary blood loss yahan hua. Phir body ko utha ke is chair mein settle kiya gaya.”

The officer opened his mouth, likely to argue out of habit, but Y/N kept going before he could get there.“Also,look at the wound angle.”

She gestured to the victim’s hand and then to the revolver.

“Self-inflicted shot mein, specially for the side of the temple, the bullet should have a exit wound kyuki bohot pass se goli chalti hai. But I can't see any visible exit wounds here. And even the grip on the gun looks awkward."

Pedro stared at the victim’s hand.

It suddenly looked less like evidence and more like a prop.

Pritam tilted his head. He wasn’t pretending to understand the forensic details, but he understood enough to know when a scene was being dismantled piece by piece.

The officer finally asked, “Toh aap keh rahi hain ye murder hai?”

"Yes. But if you still want, you can wait for the PM report. I'll tell Dr. Tejas to fastrack it.” she said.

The investigating officer nodded and left to question the rest of the staff. Somewhere downstairs, someone was talking too loudly about cold chai, probably Dhattatrey. Pedro stayed where he was for a second, looking at the body, then at Y/N, then at Pritam, who had quietly gone back to his laptop. 

This was gonna be a long one. Hopefully, once the case is done DIG sir would finally look into transferring him back to the crime cell.

---

The next few days slipped into a rhythm none of them had planned.

The murder investigation grew larger with every passing hour. Witnesses changed statements, forensic reports trickled in one after another, and Pritam spent most of his day buried behind glowing laptop screens while Y/N disappeared between the crime branch forensic lab and cyber cell carrying evidence files from one wing  of the station to another.

Which meant they kept running into each other, not intentionally, of course not. Just... constantly.

The first few times, Y/N still looked at him with open suspicion.

She'd hand Pedro or Sherlyn a report, notice Pritam sitting beside them, and narrow her eyes ever so slightly and mutter,"I see the scammer is still here."

Pritam would sigh dramatically without looking up from his laptop,"Good morning to you too, Doctor Sahiba."

Pedro, already halfway through reading the report, would wave a dismissive hand.

"Arre bas bhi karo tum dono. Waise bhi Pritam jo bolta hai, ninety-nine percent sahi hota hai."

Y/N wasn't convinced.

"Haan haan. Mr. Genius hacker. Vacuum cleaner toh phir bhi kharab hi nikla."

Pritam pressed a hand to his chest as if she'd mortally wounded him.

"Theek hai. Main zindagi bhar uss vacuum cleaner ke liye taane sun lunga, just dont look at me like that."

She fought a smile.

Fought.

Unfortunately, she lost.

It lasted barely a second before she looked away, pretending to read her report instead.

Pritam noticed anyway, and it made his heart race. It was definitely because he was sitting infront of the laptop for hours...ofc it was, what else could it be?

---

As the investigation progressed, so did their partnership.

Pritam would recover deleted files and quietly slide his laptop towards her.

Y/N would skim through them, point out which timestamps actually mattered, and save him hours of chasing useless leads.

He stopped seeing her as the woman who had nearly dragged him to consumer court weeks ago.

But now, she has become the person who noticed details everyone else walked past, the way she'd absent-mindedly tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear while thinking, the tiny crease that appeared between her brows whenever something didn't make sense, the excitement in her eyes whenever science proved someone wrong.

He found it unfair.

She was already beautiful. Did she really have to be brilliant too?

Somewhere between reconstructed timelines and post-mortem reports, he caught himself waiting for the sound of a scooter in the cyber cell parking lot every morning.

He never admitted it. Not even to himself.

Y/N, meanwhile, found her opinion of him changing against her own wishes.

He was infuriating, ridiculously dramatic, hopelessly messy.

His temporary desk at the cyber cell looked like a coffee shop had exploded on it.

And yet...he never took credit for anyone else's work.(Unlike some people, *coughcough*Dhaatarey😑*coughcough*)

Whenever someone praised him, he was the first to say, "Forensics se confirm aya tha, Dr.Tejas did most of the work." or, "Maine nahi, Dr. Y/N aur Pedro sir ne yeh information nikala" , he thanked constables by name, he remembered to ask the canteen uncle about his daughter's exams.

One afternoon she watched him spend nearly fifteen minutes helping an elderly woman unlock her phone before returning to the murder case without a hint of irritation.

She blinked,"...Tum sabke saath aise hi ho?"

Pritam looked up."Kaisa?"

"...Achhe."

He smiled, "Maybe you're the good person between the two of us, isliye sabme acchai dikhti hai."

She looked away before he could see the smile threatening to escape,"haan haan woh toh usi din pata chal gaya tha jis din you sold me that useless vaccum cleaner"

"aree yaar...app-", he was about to defend himself again when he noticed the playful smile on her face, and abruptly stopped, looking away as he felt that familiar rush of weird warmth spreading in his chest.

Y/N only giggled, maybe he wasn't a scammer.

Maybe he was just a terrible salesman.

There was a difference.

---

Pedro noticed none of it.

Not the way Pritam automatically saved the chair beside him whenever Y/N was expected.

Not the way Y/N unconsciously walked over to his desk instead of calling him across the room.

Not the way their arguments had become lighter, softer, ending more often in laughter than frustration.

To Pedro, they were simply doing what good investigators did.

Working well together.

He had no idea that somewhere between murder files, forensic reports and deleted server logs...his apprentice had quietly started falling for his sister in law.

And his saali sahiba, despite every promise she'd made to herself after buying that terrible vacuum cleaner...was beginning to look forward to seeing the salesman every morning.

---

The breakthrough in the case arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.

With three people quietly doing what they did best.

Pritam had spent the better part of two days rebuilding deleted fragments from the villa's smart home network. Most of it was useless, failed login attempts, corrupted backups and incomplete logs but buried beneath thousands of lines of recovered data was one anomaly he couldn't explain.

A phone, one that wasn't registered to anyone living in the house, it had connected to the villa's WiFi dozens of times over the last three months, always in the late afternoon, always after the victim's wife was at work.

He missed it before because it had never appeared in the guest access logs because someone had manually authorised it through the owner's phone.

Pedro frowned at the screen.

"...Affair."

Pritam nodded slowly,"I think so."

Y/N, who had been comparing the victim's call records with the post mortem timeline, quietly placed another file beside them,"It fits."

Both men looked at her

"The victim had traces of a second person's perfume on his shirt collar. I ignored it initially because I thought it belonged to his wife.", She opened the report,"It doesn't."

Pedro's eyes narrowed.

"The wife doesn't use that brand."

Y/N shook her head.

"And before you ask..."She turned another page,"...we recovered a thin auburn hair from his cuff that some idiot didn’t send it for testing thinking its dog fur"

Pedro blinked,"Dhattatrey..."

"Who else" Y/N added sighing.

Silence settled over the table.

Pritam looked at the recovered WiFi logs again, Pedro looked at the witness statements, Y/N looked at the forensic report.

Sherlyn said, " could it be the assistant?"

"No...she has long black hair" Pedro murmured.

"The interior designer?" Pritam guessed.

Y/N slowly looked up," nuh uh, it has to be the event planner lady...she was crying a lottle too much...for a client's..death."

The room went quiet.

Pedro grabbed the witness statements again.

The event planner.

A woman who claimed she had visited the villa only twice.

A woman who had cried convincingly during questioning.

A woman whose phone number...

Pritam's fingers flew over the keyboard.

"...Found her."

Pedro leaned closer.

The recovered WiFi MAC address matched a phone registered under another name.

One that belonged to the victim's "freelance event consultant."

Except...The call records showed nearly three hundred conversations over six months.

She wasn't his consultant. She was his mistress.

And on the afternoon of the murder...

She had been inside the villa.

Not only that, The smart irrigation controller in the garden had unknowingly logged movement near the rear exit nearly twenty minutes after the supposed time of suicide.

Exactly enough time to stage the room.

Pedro slowly smiled,"Chalo."

---

The arrest happened before sunset.

She tried to deny everything.

Then she tried blaming the wife.

Then she claimed the victim had become violent.

But the evidence refused to cooperate with her story.

The digital trail.

The bloodstain reconstruction.

The staged crime scene.

The bruising.

The recovered messages Pritam managed to restore from cloud fragments.

By the time Pedro placed the handcuffs around her wrists, the case had already been solved.

Back at headquarters, the atmosphere felt noticeably lighter.

The DIG himself walked out of his office carrying the completed file.

"I'll admit," he said, looking around the room, "initial report dekh ke mujhe bhi suicide hi laga tha."

Pedro scratched the back of his neck.

"Sir..."

The DIG smiled,"Good work, Gonsalves."

His gaze shifted to Pritam,"Especially you young man, good job."

Then to Y/N,"And Doctor L/N, excellent forensic observations as always."

She nodded politely,"Thank you, sir."

Pedro cleared his throat,"...Sir, ek chhoti si request thi."

The DIG sighed dramatically,"Mujhe pata tha."

"Crime Branch..."

The older man laughed,"Ek case solve karke transfer thodi mil jaata hai, Pedro."

Pedro sighed.

"But..."

Pedro straightened.

"...solve a few more like this."

He closed the case file with a firm clap.

"I'll personally recommend your transfer to the DGP."

Pedro's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning,"Thank you, sir!"

The DIG pointed toward the door,"Ab jao."

"Sir?"

"Celebrate."

---

An hour later, they found themselves at a tiny beach shack overlooking the sea, Pedro called his wife over to join the celebration.

The shack had fresh seafood, soft music drifting lazily through the salty breeze.

Pedro insisted on paying.

Stacey rolled her eyes and quietly paid the bill before he could.

Nobody mentioned it.

Y/N narrated the whole story to her sister animatedly, the case became a funny story halfway through dinner.

"So..." Stacey looked at Pritam,"Vacuum cleaner ka kya hua?"

Pritam raised his hands up in a mock surrender, "Maine manager se baat kar li hai...they will replace it by next week."

Y/N smirked,"See? Consistencey is key." Everyone laughed, Pritam stared at Y/N laughing, carefree and so at ease. God this woman would be the death of him.

Pedro shrugged and went back to arguing with Stacey about who had cheated at cards the previous weekend.

Completely oblivious.

By the time they left, the roads had emptied.

The sea breeze had turned cooler.

Y/N reached for her scooter keys before remembering...

"...Workshop."

She sighed,"I forgot."

Pritam jingled his bike keys,"Lucky for you..."

She looked at him.

"...main available hoon."

She rolled her eyes, but sat down anyway.

The ride home was quieter, comfortable.

The city lights slowly gave way to quieter residential lanes until he finally stopped outside her gate.

Neither moved.

Neither seemed particularly eager to end the evening.

Y/N removed the helmet and handed it back,"Thanks."

He took it carefully,"No problem."

Another silence. Longer this time.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

She watched him with growing amusement.

He looked...Nervous.

The same man who could dismantle encrypted servers without blinking suddenly couldn't seem to look her in the eye.

Finally, he laughed awkwardly."Main..."

"Hmm?"

"...ek baat poochun?"

"Poocho."

He took a deep breath.

"I know tum abhi bhi mujhe kabhi kabhi scammer samajhti ho..."

She smiled "I do."

"...lekin..."

He looked everywhere except at her.

"...would you... umm...maybe... kabhi... mere saath bahar chalogi?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Which, for approximately four of the longest seconds of Pritam Parker's life, felt exactly like rejection.

"Oh."

He smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay. You don't have to say yes-Main bas-"

She stepped closer.

Close enough that he forgot what sentence he had been trying to finish.

There was that familiar little crease between her brows.

Except this time...

She wasn't thinking about blood patterns.

Or forensic reports.

Or murder.

She was looking at him.

"You know," she said softly, "for someone who's supposed to be a genius..."

He blinked.

"...you're surprisingly slow."

Before he could ask what she meant, she reached up, gently took hold of the front of his jacket...

...and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

It lasted barely a heartbeat.

When she stepped back, his expression was somewhere between complete astonishment and total system failure.

She smiled, a small, mysterious smile he'd come to recognize over the course of the investigation.

"I think," he said, as she turned towards her gate, "that's a yes."

She disappeared inside before he could recover enough brain cells to go after her and he remained exactly where he was.

Helmet still in one hand, keys in the other.

Smiling like an absolute idiot beneath the porch light.

Somewhere inside the house, Y/N leaned against the closed door, unable to stop smiling herself.

Perhaps buying that terrible vacuum cleaner hadn't been such a bad investment after all.

Razia was a year older, tall and expressive, with a brilliant smile that eased Tara's anxiety instantly. Her twin brother, Zayn, carried a calm, steady presence that balanced his sister's fiery nature perfectly. Both of them always looked out for Tara whenever the chaos of the house became too much.

The three of them would crowd onto a woven charpai in the small courtyard behind the main house, sharing broken glucose biscuits. To pass the time, they played makeshift word games, which is where Tara's deep love for language started.

Inside the main house, Sikandar and Zareen always snapped at her for being "annoying," telling her she talked entirely too much. Over time, they forced her to become completely quiet and reserved just to maintain their polished public image. But Razia and Zayn knew her true self. With them, her bubbly energy and bright laughter never faded. Tara's real beauty only showed when she genuinely laughed—her entire face would light up, her eyes would widen, and her genuine warmth would completely break through her usual reserved facade.

She still remembered one brutal afternoon when her parents were shrieking inside about a failed corporate merger. Terrified, Tara fled to the quarters. Razia pulled her into their small room, holding her shaking hands tightly while Zayn hilariously mimicked the dramatic, gossiping high-society guests who visited Zareen's parlors. He did it so perfectly that he turned Tara's tears of fear into breathless laughter.

As she grew older, the pressure only got worse. Her parents constantly reminded her that she was just an asset, a pawn to be married off to a man of Sikandar’s choosing to secure corporate alliances and the local influence needed to protect their empire. Tara kept her vibrant side safely hidden from the elite crowds, finding her only real escape as an English teacher at a public school. Behind closed doors, her parents had furious, screaming fits over it, threatening to completely disown her for dragging their prestigious name through the dirt. Yet, the moment they were in front of their high-society circles, they completely flipped the script, proudly boasting about Tara's teaching job as if it were a noble charity initiative they had graciously funded themselves.

But her anxieties went far deeper than just a fear of being trapped. Tara’s greatest terror was ending up in a marriage that was completely loveless, hollow, and fake—an exact replica of her parents'. In public, Sikandar and Zareen meticulously maintained the illusion of a devoted, elite power couple. In private, however, the facade completely vanished. The only times they weren't screaming at each other was when they chose to target Tara instead. It was as if they resented her simply for existing, furious because she was the living proof of their marriage that forced them to stay together. Her second deepest fear was entering a home where she would be utterly ignored and dismissed, left to fade into the background exactly the way she had been at home her whole life.

When they finalized the arrangement with Uzair Baloch, Tara agreed on one strict condition: she demanded weekly dates before the wedding. She needed to know who this man truly was, desperate to ensure she wasn't signing away her life to another cold, performative prison. Truthfully, she was surprised her parents had even listened to her demand; perhaps, behind all the mind games, they were just as exhausted by the endless fighting as she was.

The first date took place two months before the wedding. Uzair didn't take her to the polished, manicured spots her parents frequently visited in Clifton or Defense. Instead, he drove her out to a quiet stretch of Hawksbay away from the crowds, stopping the jeep where the sea breeze hit the hardest. The heavy Karachi humidity hung thickly over the sand, and the dark Arabian Sea crashed rhythmically against the shore.

Before coming out to the sand, he had pulled over at a roadside stall, and now the warm, sharp scent of spiced fish and hot bun kababs cut through the salty air between them. Tara sat on the edge of the jeep's open bed, her fingers tightly gripping the cold metal. Looking out at the vast, dark emptiness of the coastline, a sudden wave of relief washed over her, grounding her raw nerves. She was immensely grateful he hadn't chosen some suffocating, high-end restaurant in the city. If he had taken her to a place with valet parking, she would have spent the entire night on high alert, suffocated by the pressure to maintain a flawless public image. Out here, with the salty wind in her face and the calming hum of the ocean, there was no audience and there was no one to perform for.

Uzair sat beside her, his massive frame completely leaning back against the vehicle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He didn't force a fake conversation. He simply just reached down into the oil-stained paper wrapping, took a bite of the street food, and looked out at the dark water under the moonlight.

“Khao,” Uzair said, his deep voice short and flat, but completely devoid of the harshness she always heard at home. “Isse pehle ke thanda ho jaye.”

Tara looked across the sand up to his sharp profile, her voice slightly stuttering. “Aap... aap khud toh kuch kha nahi rahe. Bas mujhe bura feel karane ke liye nakhre kar rahe hain.”

Uzair didn't argue. He just chewed rhythmically in the soft glow of the moonlight. “Kha toh raha hoon. Ab tum khao.”

Tara chewed her inner lip, a tiny crack appearing in her guard. At home, compliance was demanded with a shout. Uzair's blunt approach just left her alone in her own space, free from the crushing expectations of the Mansoor name.

“Mere... mere students aaj bilkul pagal ho gaye the,” she murmured, her true energy slipping out as her nerves dropped. “Hum vocabulary exercise kar rahe, aur ek chote ladke ne poori zidd pakad li ke 'fortress' ka matlab giant refrigerator hota hai. Main poore pandrah minute apni hansi rok kar usse samjhati rahi.”

Uzair’s lips twitched slightly, a barely visible dent appearing in his rugged jawline. “Refrigerator?”

“Haan! Aur itna confident tha na, hadd hai,” she said, a real, unforced laugh breaking through. Her eyes widened with enthusiasm as she used her hands to mimic a giant box. “Kehta hai mere mamoo ke kitchen mein ek 'fortress' hai jahan mahino tak gosht frozen rehta hai. Mera dil hi nahi kiya usse batane ka ke woh deep freezer ki baat kar raha hai.”

Uzair didn't interrupt her. He just finished his food and listened to her talk about her lesson plans and the books she wanted to buy, giving her his full, undivided attention until the night grew late.

Their second date took place at a quiet and low-profile rooftop tea spot near Stadium Road. The air smelled of strong cardamom, roasted corn, and lemon juice, and Tara was still finding her footing, shifting between long, quiet pauses and sudden bursts of talking while they sat on a low wooden bench.

“Meri ammi ne aaj poore teen ghante stage ke floral arrangements select karne mein barbad kiye,” Tara said, her fingers tracing the warm rim of her clay teacup. “Mujhse pucha tak nahi ke mujhe kya pasand hai. Bas keh diya ke white lilies photographs mein expensive lagti hain. Mujhe lilies se nafrat hai. Hospital jaisi boo aati hai unse. Mujhe umeed thi ke woh marigolds rakhne dengi, jo mujhe pasand hain.”

Uzair rested his thick forearms on his knees, watching the heavy traffic pass below on the main road. “Toh hum Haveli ke staff ko bol denge, woh agle hi din sab saaf kar denge. Waise bhi Ulfat bhabhi ko marigolds hi pasand hain. Unse hospital jaisi boo nahi aati.”

Tara turned her head, a small, genuine smile touching her lips before saying, “Lekin meri ammi kehti hain ke woh saste lagte hain, jaise signal par ek rupee mein milne wale. Unhein har cheez imported chahiye.”

"Haveli unka ghar nahi hai," Uzair muttered, his voice dropping an octave, solid and unyielding. "Jo andar hoga, hamare rules se hoga. Rehman bhai perimeter sambhalte hain, aur jo Ulfat bhabhi bolti hain, wahi hota hai. Unhein kaho apni lilies Clifton mein hi rakhein."

For their third date, roughly four weeks before the wedding, Uzair took her to a quiet, old park near the borders of the city during the late afternoon. It was far less manicured than the places her parents frequently dragged her to, but the shade of the ancient banyan trees felt relaxing.

The heavy silence of the afternoon hung between them. Usually, Tara would fill the space with endless stories about her school or her books, but today her shoulders were tense, her gaze fixed entirely on her boots as they walked. The approaching wedding date was acting like a physical weight, dragging her down.

In an attempt to shake off this feeling of suffocation, she stepped up onto the low, rugged stone border that lined the walkway, trying to focus on balancing herself. She walked with her arms slightly out, her movements careful as she hopped from one uneven rock to the next.

"Mere abba guest list mein mazeed do sau corporate clients badhana chahte hain," Tara mentioned. Her voice was barely above a whisper and lacked its usual bright energy. "Mujhse aaj keh rahe the ke shaadi koi intimate family dinner nahi hoti. Yeh ek corporate merger hai."

Uzair didn't slow his strides, keeping pace right beside her on the smooth path. He didn't look at the perimeter; his sharp eyes stayed locked on her feet. "Unhein jitne marzi log bulane hain bulayein. Saamne wala aangan family ka hai. Rehman bhai gates dekh lenge."

"Lekin agar unhone—" Tara started, turning her head too quickly to look down at him.

Her foot caught the jagged edge of a loose stone. She lost her footing completely, a small gasp escaping her throat as she tilted forward, slipping off the elevated border straight toward the hard, cracked ground.

Before she could even brace for the impact, Uzair moved. In one swift, effortless motion, his massive hands locked firmly around her waist, catching her cleanly mid-air.

The sheer momentum brought her right against his chest. For a second, the entire park fell completely quiet. Tara’s hands instinctively clamped onto his forearms, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs—not from the fall, but from the sudden, overwhelming proximity. Uzair held her completely off the ground for a beat longer than necessary, his grip iron-tight but remarkably careful, his sharp eyes searching her face to see if she was hurt.

He looked at her wide, startled eyes and the way her lips were parted in silence.

"Dhyan se chalo," Uzair muttered, his deep voice carrying a sudden, heavy gravity close to her ear. He set her back down onto the flat path, but his hands didn't immediately drop from her waist, ensuring she had her footing. "Aaj kuch ajeeb lag rahi ho."

Tara's face flushed a deep crimson. She looked up at him, her voice defensive but breathless as her fingers lingered on his linen sleeves. "Maine toh abhi theek se do sentences bhi nahi bole kyunki mera dimaag kahin aur chal raha hai."

Uzair's jaw tightened slightly, a barely visible trace of amusement passing through his eyes before he slowly let his hands drop back into his pockets. "Wahi toh. Mujhe pata chal jata hai jab tum nervous hoti ho."

He turned back toward the path, his stride slow and steady, waiting for her to catch up with him. "Tumhare abba ke guests main hall mein rahenge. Woh wahan nahi baithenge jahan hum baithenge. Awaaz gate ke paar nahi aati."

By their fourth date, three weeks before the wedding, they were sitting at a crowded dhabba near Gizri, surrounded by the roaring of passing rickshaws, loud laughter, and clinking teacups. Tara tried to navigate a fresh, burning paratha straight from the tawa and let out a sharp hiss, instantly dropping it back onto the plastic plate.

Uzair didn't ask useless questions or lecture her. He reached across the small table, took a heavy steel spoon, and cleanly broke the steaming paratha into smaller, manageable pieces before pushing the plate back toward her.

“Chammach use karo,” he muttered, gesturing toward the plastic cutlery beside her cup. “Haath mat jalao.”

Tara looked down at the pieces, her heart doing a sudden, hard flip. She picked up the fork, staring at the perfectly broken bites.

"Shukriya," she said softly, her voice carrying a rare, vulnerable weight over the noise of the dhabba.

Uzair picked up his own cup of strong chai, taking a slow sip. He didn't lift his gaze from the rim of his cup. "Kis liye?"

"Mujhe kisi aisi jagah laane ke liye jahan koi nahi dekhta ke main kaun hoon," she murmured, looking across at him as a rickshaw roared past their table. "Jab bhi family ke sath un high-end jagahon par jati hoon, toh lagta hai jaise koi audition chal raha ho. Ghar par toh halat is se bhi buri hai. Ammi ne khane par itni restrictions lagayi hui hain—ek ek nivala monitor karti hain ke society pages aur wedding photos ke liye flawless dikhna hai. Yeh sab itna exhausting ho jata hai ke aadha waqt toh main unki baaton se bachne ke liye theek se khati hi nahi hoon. Yahan bhale hi shor hai, par sukoon hai. Kkoi mujhe judge nahi kar raha, na hi meri plate ko ghoor raha hai."

Uzair set his teacup down with a firm, solid thud against the laminate table. His sharp eyes locked onto hers, entirely serious. "Haveli mein bhi aisa hi hai. Ek baar gate ke andar aagaye, toh baahar ki duniya andar jhaank kar nahi dekhti."

Tara looked up, her lips parting slightly. Uzair didn't lean in. Instead, his gaze shifted away from her, scanning the chaotic crowd of the dhabba and the roaring traffic of the street, almost contemplating the words before they left his mouth. Then, looking back at his tea, he whispered nonchalantly:

"Tumhara shohar hone ke naate, itna toh main kar hi sakta hoon."

The words hit her instantly. Tara’s breath caught in her throat as she caught his meaning, a sudden, intense warmth flushing across her cheeks. She quickly looked back down at her plate to hide the deep blush rising up her neck. The roaring streets seemed to fade into a dull hum, completely replaced by the quiet reality of what he had just stated so calmly. He wasn't just filtering out the high-society pressure for her anymore; he was completely stepping into her life to protect her space.

For their fifth date, they ended up at Dolmen Mall. Walking through the air-conditioned corridors under the bright lights, she felt a different kind of contrast. Uzair, in his usual dark salwar kameez with the sleeves rolled up, walked beside her with a slow, deliberate pace that made the rushing mall crowd naturally part around them.

"Ammi chahti thin ke main yahan designer boutiques par jaun aur post-wedding dinners ke liye teen aur formal tunics loon," Tara said, looking at the polished glass storefronts filled with mannequin displays. "Keh rahi thin ke agar main pehle hi mahine kapde repeat karti hui dikhi toh bohot embarrassing hoga. Keh rahi thin ke aapke side ke log sochenge Mansoor family ne apni beti ko jahez hi nahi diya."

Uzair didn't even look toward the high-end displays. "Wahi khareedo jo tumhein pehanna hai. Agar andar nahi jana, toh nahi jayenge. Haveli mein koi tumhare kapde nahi ginta. Rehman bhai ko koi farq nahi padta, aur Ulfat bhabhi ko bas is baat ki fikr hoti hai ke tum comfortable ho."

Tara smiled slightly, feeling the familiar, steady grounding he always brought. "Nahi, theek hai. Main bas corner wale bookstore par jana chahti hoon. Poore mall mein wahi ek jagah sukoon wali lagti hai."

Uzair simply nodded, changing direction without a single word and trailed behind her into the quiet, book-lined aisles.

The moment Tara stepped into the rows of tall bookshelves, her entire demeanor shifted. Her fingers danced eagerly along the spines of old history books, poetry collections, and classical novels. As she drifted from one shelf to the next, entirely lost in her own world, she would pull a heavy volume down, look over its summary with bright, excited eyes, and seamlessly hand it off backward toward Uzair without even looking.

She didn't even realize she was doing it. She was completely absorbed in the books, treating him like a natural, comforting presence that would just be there.

Uzair didn't say a word to disrupt her focus. His sharp eyes scanned the quiet rows, and every time her hand reached back with another book, his massive hands simply closed around the spine, stacking them carefully against his chest. By the time they reached the end of the aisle, he was holding a massive, heavy stack of novels, his posture completely unbothered by the weight.

When Tara finally snapped out of her trance near the register, she blinked, looking at his full hands with a look of sudden horror. "Oh my god, I am so sorry! Mera woh matlab nahi tha ke aap yeh sab uthayein, main bas—mera bilkul dhyan hi nahi raha."

Uzair didn't complain or wait for her to grab her purse. He stepped past her directly to the counter, setting the heavy stack down with a solid thud. Before she could even unclip her bag, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the cash, and handed it cleanly to the clerk.

"Main apne books ke paise khud de sakti hoon," Tara whispered, her face flushing slightly as the clerk began wrapping them up.

"Yeh Haveli ja rahe hain," Uzair muttered bluntly, taking the heavy paper bag in one hand. "Main dunga."

He turned and began walking toward the exit, holding the heavy bag securely in his left hand, while his right hand hung empty at his side.

Tara stood there for a moment, watching his broad back as he walked ahead. A sudden wave of courage overrode her usual hesitation. She quickly caught up to him, stepping right alongside his steady stride. Without a word, she reached down and slid her fingers into his empty right hand, lacing her fingers firmly with his broad, calloused ones.

Uzair stopped instantly, his entire frame tensing at the unexpected warmth of her touch. He looked down at their joined hands, and then up at her face, his sharp eyes filled with a quiet, intense surprise.

Tara looked up through her lashes, her face flushing a bright, beautiful crimson, but she didn't let go. She squeezed his hand gently and offered a small, defiant smile.

"Yeh meri taraf se payment hai," she said softly.

Uzair’s jaw tightened slightly, a heavy, unreadable emotion passing through his dark eyes. He didn't pull away. Instead, his large fingers wrapped securely around hers, shifting his grip to hold her hand completely against his side as they continued walking out into the mall together. As she pulled him forward toward the exit, Uzair just kept his eyes fixed entirely on their joined hands. A profound softness settled over his features as he stared down at the contrast of her smaller hand locked in his. He walked in a quiet trance, silently hoping that this simple moment wouldn't end, a deep sense of relief washing over him because she was finally comfortable with him.

Twelve days before the wedding, Uzair had come over to hand-deliver the last set of formal legal documents that Rehman Bhai had processed for Sikandar.

As he crossed the main foyer, Sikandar Mansoor came down the stairs, looking irritated as he called out blindly into the hallway. "Tara! Tara, neeche aao aur apne mangetar ko hello kaho!" When there was no immediate answer, Sikandar rolled his eyes, turning toward Uzair with an insincere, smooth laugh. "Inhein dekhein. Bilkul baat nahi manti. Jab bulayein toh dhyan tak nahi deti. Pata nahi shadi ke baad aapko kitna tang karegi."

Uzair stopped in his tracks, his large frame towering over the smoothly polished marble floor. He extended his arm and bluntly handed the heavy folder of legal documents directly to Sikandar, his sharp eyes narrowing as he looked at the man. His voice dropped into a cold, flat rumble. "Woh bilkul theek sunti hain. Kuch aur logon ki tarah nahi hain."

Sikandar’s smile stiffened, completely caught off guard as he took the papers.

"Aur waise bhi," Uzair added, his tone heavy with a direct roast, "usse apne hi ghar mein thoda dhyan paane ke liye har waqt itni koshish nahi karni chahiye."

Before Sikandar could form a response, Tara's mother entered, coming from a nearby room. Seeing Uzair, her expression instantly shifted into a sugary, high-society facade. "Oh, Uzair beta! Aapko dekh kar kitni khushi hui. Aayein, baithein, main staff se kehti hoon aapke liye fresh juice layein—"

Uzair looked at her, his expression remaining entirely flat. "Aadaab," he said respectfully but completely devoid of warmth, intentionally avoiding calling her his mother-in-law. "Shukriya, par main theek hoon."

Without waiting for her to continue, he turned on his heel and walked straight past them toward the upper residential wing, intending to find Tara himself. Behind him, Sikandar and his wife both stood frozen, scowling as they watched his retreating back, before turning to glare at each other in sheer frustration at his blatant disregard for their gestures.

Uzair moved down the quiet, carpeted corridor, looking for her room. As he passed a slightly open door, he slowed his stride. He had intended to just pop his head in and say hello, but the sight inside made him stop completely.

Tara was standing in front of a tall wooden easel, entirely immersed in her work. She was painting a canvas that depicted a beautiful scene under a soft twilight sky. In the center of the canvas, she had painted a portrait of a woman's back and a massive, broad-shouldered man's back, their hands carefully laced together. Even from behind, the figures strongly resembled the two of them.

Hearing his heavy footsteps, Tara turned around abruptly, her eyes widening in sudden fluster. She instantly moved to stand directly in front of the easel, trying to hide the canvas from his view. She looked completely different away from her mother's watchful gaze. Her hair was up in a loose, casual style held by a claw clip, with half of it tumbling down her shoulders. A small smudge of dark blue paint was smeared across her forehead, and her simple cotton kurti had a few colorful splatters on the sleeve.

Uzair stepped into the room, his large frame easily taking in her frantic attempt to block the easel. A barely visible, amused twitch tugged at the corner of his jaw. Instead of staying back, he deliberately walked closer, stepping right up into her personal space to peer over her head at the canvas she was desperately trying to shield.

"Oh," Uzair said softly, his deep voice carrying a rare, teasing undertone as he leaned in slightly to get a better look. "Yeh kya hai?"

Tara bit her inner lip, her face turning bright crimson, and she remained completely silent, unable to find a single word to respond under his close proximity.

Uzair's gaze lingered on her flustered expression, and then his eyes traced up to her hair. She quickly shook her head, trying to move a stubborn, stray lock of hair that had fallen directly across her eyes. She shook it twice, but the strand remained firmly stuck against her cheek.

Without a word, Uzair closed the remaining distance between them. He reached out, his thick, calloused fingers incredibly gentle as he caught the stubborn strand of hair and tucked it carefully behind her ear. His hand lingered for a fraction of a second against the soft skin of her jawline.

Tara froze, her breath catching entirely in her throat. She looked up, her wide, expressive eyes locking directly onto his sharp, intense gaze. Surrounded by the scent of fresh oil paint, the space between them shrunk to nothing. Uzair looked down at her parted lips, his chest rising and falling heavily. Drawn in by the sudden, overwhelming gravity, they both slowly began to lean in, their faces inches apart, almost crossing the line into a kiss.

SLAM.

A door closing firmly several rooms away echoed down the corridor, shattering the quiet.

The sound startled them both. They instantly pulled apart. Uzair cleared his throat roughly, shifting his weight as his gaze darted toward the ceiling, the window, the floor—anywhere but her face.

Tara’s cheeks burned a deep crimson. She awkwardly cleared her throat, nervously wiping her hands on a cloth. "Uzair... ruko. Main bas yeh paint saaf karke aati hoon. Tum yahin baitho. Main... main tumhein kuch logon se milwana chahti hoon."

As she hurried into her attached bathroom, Uzair stood alone, finally taking a moment to observe her room. It was completely unlike his own sterile, dark space, and vastly different from the rest of the cold, pretentious mansion. Her room was filled with soft light, simple wooden furniture, stacks of books, and small handmade crafts. It felt incredibly positive, warm, and simple. His eyes drifted to a small wooden shelf near her desk, pausing on a couple of framed childhood pictures of her—one where she was laughing wildly with a missing front tooth, and another where she was holding a giant teddy bear. A rare, genuine smile touched his lips.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made him snap out of it instantly. He straightened his shoulders, wiping the smile from his face just as Tara stepped back out, her hands clean and her expression determined.

Without giving him a chance to speak, she immediately walked up, grabbed him firmly by the wrist, and began pulling him forward to lead the way out.

Uzair didn't say a word to slow her down. As she pulled him through the room, his gaze dropped entirely to her hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was hard for him to get used to this new feeling.

She checked the hallway carefully, ensuring her parents weren't looking, and then secretly guided him down the back staircase, leading him out toward the narrow brick path at the edge of the property.

When they reached the quiet courtyard of the servants' quarters, Tara immediately ran ahead to where Razia and Zayn were sitting on the woven cot under the neem tree. The rigid reserve she kept around her parents completely vanished as she introduced Uzair to them, her voice bright with relief.

With the introductions out of the way, the two girls sat back down on the cot, completely caught up in their own conversation. Within seconds, Tara was gesturing wildly, laughing as she caught her friend up on everything, her voice carrying a lively warmth.

Uzair stayed back by the edge of the brick path, his massive frame blending into the deep shade of the concrete wall. He didn't interrupt her joy. He just stood there with his arms crossed, watching her from a distance as she laughed and talked with Razia.

While the two women remained entirely focused on each other, completely animated in their own world, Zayn noticed Uzair standing in the shadows. His posture turned tense and formal for a moment, recognizing the sheer weight the Baloch name carried in the city. After a brief hesitation, Zayn quietly stepped away from the cot, leaving his sister and Tara to their conversation, and walked over to the edge of the path alone.

Uzair watched him approach, taking in the protective stance the young man naturally had and the raw, honest worry in his expression. Uzair didn't look at the modest quarters with any high-society judgment or arrogance. Instead, he kept his voice low and private so it wouldn't disturb the women or carry back to the main house.

"Maine tumhari un lafzon wali game ke baare mein suna hai," Uzair said, his deep voice characteristically short and blunt, but entirely devoid of condescension. "Iska khayal rakhne ke liye shukriya."

Zayn let out a slow breath, looking back at Tara for a quiet moment before meeting Uzair's sharp eyes directly. "Yeh us bade mahal mein poori zindagi gayab hi rahi hai, bhai. Woh log toh is par tabhi dhyan dete hain jab unhein ise sabko dikhana ho ya is mein koi khonsh nikalni ho. Yahan bahar aakar yeh sukoon ka saans leti hai." He paused, his expression serious and grounding. "Bas ise ek aisi jagah dena jahan ise apni baat sunwane ke liye ladna na pade."

Uzair followed his gaze, watching the genuine, bright smile on Tara's face as she talked. His expression remained completely unyielding while his voice carried a quiet, absolute certainty. "Aisa nahi hoga. Mera poora dhyan hai is par."

As Tara talked with Razia, her gaze occasionally drifted back toward him. Watching the steady, unbothered way he stood in her world, she realized her standards had been completely raised; no one else could ever compare to the quiet, protective security he offered. In truth, she had already decided to marry him from the first few dates itself. She had only dragged the remaining dates out to get more time with him—and looking at the faint, knowing look in his eyes right now, she had a strong feeling he knew exactly what she was doing and shared the very same feelings toward her.

credits and thanks to @tojisloft

All your screams had become a repeated blur that fell deaf to his ears as he dragged you yet again into the car, the processes of your thrashing repeated with him finally arriving at the haveli. 

It was eerily quiet according to the evenings spent there usually, when the sun sinked lowered hiding in the curtains of the clouds is when usually the haveli came to life, with Naem's and Faisal antics and the laughter shared since both Uzair and Rehman were finally back at home but it was all so empty today that even your screaming tantrum halted for a second 

“ Bahar gaye hai sab”  he spanked your bottom again, the world was literally upside down from over his shoulder, you yelped and slapped your hand on his back “ Choro mujhe!! Choro mujhe” You cried squirming back with full force, he didn't reply to your demands he didn't felt the need to, he only walked up stairs till he had reached the room throwing you on the mattress, his intentions clear. 

You looked up ,your tear stricken face was of a dear that had found itself stuck in the headlights, your soorma mixing with your tears finding their way down the arch of your cheek, lips puffed up from crying so much a sight so beautiful Uzair blood rushed south,hardening instantly.

You clutched your sheer dupatta to your chest sniffling loudly, he didn't say anything just watched as your movements turned more uncertain about what you wanted yourself , Uzair leisurely lighted up a cigarette, the sound of the end catching fire flashing in the room with a small momentarily swish building up the anticipation of what he was going to do. You have fantasised about doing it with him some nights, when you weren't so scared of his presence itself thinking about giving yourself to him, if a thing so vulnerable will take out the ultimate softness of his heart but  he looked like he had gotten worse, and you looked like you had been set ablaze in contrary to your dreams of gentle love making this looked like a nightmare, he appeared he was seconds away from tearing your clothes and fucking you into the matress for the stunt you had pulled off. 

You could not just there like a helpless captive all evening you needed to say something even when the cold biting touch of the metal pressing in the side of your head still lingered

 “ Jabardasti kiya hua nikaah jaiz nahi hota hai Uzair, khuda se toh daro”

 “ Mujhay mazhab aur aqaid ki koi parwah nahi, aur is kamray ke andar main hi tera khuda hoon” 

The declaration made you pause, the impact to go straight to the in between of your thighs 

“ Sharam karo Uzair” you clutched the fabric tighter at your chest watching him go quiet with what looked a lot like regret or you did not know at all after all he really had not been what you were thinking he would be, but he was quiet now pummeling out long inhales and exhales of the grey smoke and just by a miracle per chance he had calmed down with the tobacco burning and filling his lungs.

 Carefully you put down your feet on the ground, walking slowly for the first few steps before hurrying your way to the door to escape the suffocating air of the room, to escape him. Even when you had twisted the door knob open he still didn't happen to move from his place, you were going to be free. The happiness was short lived as he shouldered you in to the very door, shutting it close with a loud thud. “ Kaha jaa rahi hai?” His hands fisted into your scalp grabbing you by your hair he flipped you around to face him, the sligt sting bringing new tears to your eyes, you yelped glaring at him as he peppered kissing at the line of your jaw exposing the line of your throat with another harsh tug to your hair bending you as he wished. He instantly sucked a pale red mark into your neck, “ Biwi hai tu meri ab” He said the unbridled sucking changing into hot open mouth kisses so happy with the syllable that he had started humming despite his simmering anger 

“Sun ki hi kitna accha lagta hai na jaanu” 

“ Mujhe nahi lagta!”

 You yelled genuinely thrown off by his crazy he was being, he pulled you into an erratic kiss, the world around crumbling into dust over the feeling of being razed so easily under his hand, the shock had made you gasp instinctively giving him way into your mouth, his tongue plunging into your mouth sweeping along yours, crashing, pushing you to submit not even pulling back when you had ran out of breath, the combined salvia running down the side of your mouth from how long he stretched the forced kiss, your hands slapping at his back and chest before finger curled into his suit for anchor to keep yourself conscious. You only found your breath back when he decided to pull back his lips finding their way to your neck again. 

You whimpered your legs collapsing with how muddled your head was when his palmed the whole of your left breast squeezing roughly, almost moaning out loud you thrashed fighting against the invasion, but ending arching pushing yourself more into his grips, nipple hard and scratching against the fabric of your kurta that every movement from his coarse hand ached so bad, “ Uzair please” you tugged at his hair his mouth refusing to leave the plane of neck and collarbones, occupied to mark every inch you had dared to expose that was his, he twisted both the nipples hard through your clothes the pain and arousal clouded you, your legs buck your heat clenching around nothing and  your hand moved innately connecting with his cheek with a loud crack. 

Your breath stopped and so did his actions all together, his lips ceasing their tortuous action pulling back with his head still lowered. Your hand remained stuck to his cheek unwilling to pull it back and see the red blooming there and what he would do with you for this antic, “ Sorry Uzair… galti se hogaya… voh mai-” He cut your off with a loud inhibited laugh, throwing his head back, “ Kitna darti hai yaar”  you remembered the same way he had scared you the night you met before, maybe it was all an elaborate joke he was still laughing wasn't he? You forced yourself an awkward laugh over your tears 

He licked the inside of your palm, kissing up the soft arch watching you with hungry eyes, oh he wasn't joking, he picked you up yet again ignoring your kicking legs throwing you onto the mattress more stoutly than  last time. You bounced slightly from the impact, scrambling back into the headboard when you found your body in your control again and that was the last time you did that night really. He lurched forward yanking your kurta over your head in a speed that was inhumane, “ Mujhe chor kar jaa rahi thi? Koi rishta nahi tha na humara, ab hai” he snagged the bra in one go, pausing to admire your body and how your heavy breast looked at him ,warm and inviting and you also froze under the worship of his eyes, letting him engulf and soothe the dark peak in his mouth. 

You moaned clutching at the bedsheets at the very new sensation that burned between your legs from how he caressed your nipple, circling his tongue around it in an unsatiated appetite other hand kneading the other abandoned side,

 “ Uzair choro!”

 You whined but you were also the one who was leaning into the touch, pressing and rubbing your thighs together for some relief, 

“ Badhi paak-daman banti hai tu, jaise tujhe meri koi zaroorat hi na ho, jaise tera mujh se koi lena dena hi nahi. Sab ke samne tu aise mukar gayi jaise tera mujh se koi chakkar hi na ho, jaise tu un andheri galiyon mein mujh se chimat kar munh kala nahi karwa rahi thi” you saw the anger blazing in his eyes along side with his need, that line has caught you in so much trouble and by the looks of it he was beyond saving , you did not know what he was going to do to you only adding in more to the tremble of your body, fear paralysing you to the extent you did not resist his hand tracing down your stomach, snaking into the waistband of your light sharara but your breaths spoke for you, broken into a thousand pieces shaking with an emotion you couldn't get your heart to explain yourself, you hadn't expected this to happen not ever.

His tanned hand rested at your bare skin of the mon pubis,brushing against the soft curl before dragging in between your slick fold, your wetness catching at his fingers, “ Yaha bhi sharafat bachi hai ya fir uski bhi kasar nahi chori apne haatho se?” You flushed red, you knew he didn't have a way with words ever and that every word out of his mouth spoke for what filth he was raised in but you this..this was something else, asking if you had fingered yourself like this,  “Dimaag kharaab hai kya aapka?” You shrieked, “ Ek toh aise janwaroon ki tarah kar rahe ho, mere abbu ko dhamki deke shaadi kar li” He didn't reply to your counter at all ignoring you were saying as if you were a child throwing tantrum, pulling your sharara down 

“ Hum normally baat bhi kar sakte the, infact aap mujhe pyaar se bolti toh mai jaati bhi nahi abbu se baat kar leti, aapke baare mei bata deti aur unhe humaare saath hone se koi aitraaz bhi nahi hota”

 His movements didn't falter for a moment pulling down your panties that got him a few kicks to the face but he just pecked them as well, you gulped down hard before continuing as ignoring that you were bare to him now would change his mind, your heat exposed to the air of the room and his ravenous eyes 

“ Par aapne ka toh har cheez ka tamasha bana diya, college ke saamne mujhe aise uthe liye aur fir mere abbu aur mujhe pe itne zulm kiya-”

 the cold silver of his taweez grazed your clit before his mouth did as he leaned in leisurely getting ready for the meal of his life, you jolted at the touch scooting your hips back, “ Aur yeh kya kar rahe hoon, choriye mujhe” he slammed your hips down into the mattress diving face in, his tongue licked a broad stripe over the whole of you, his chest rumbled with a dark satisfaction at finally having the taste of you and for the loud moan that teared from your throat echoing in the room. His beard scraped at the inside of your thighs, how could you ever fight this feeling? 

He thrusted his tongue inside not giving time to your untrained hole to ease around him and instantly started eating your out, his tongue slurping at your insides in wild strokes his moustache tikcling the senstive pearl that hide atop your folds, your legs tend to close which he didn't appreciate, digging his finger into your fleshy thighs and keeping them spread open for his eating, he pulled out after some only to catch onto your clit instead, suctioning the bundle of thousand nerves into his mouth, invientably your hips bucked admitting your silent defeat. 

Uzair poked his middle finger at closed off entrance, it slid in with due to the assistantce of your drenched self, once he felt your cunt clamp down on his finger instead of rejecting the feeling, he decided you were ready to take more and thrust back in two thick digits into you, you couldn't move under his grip neither could you bring yourself to open your eyes and look down to see the view between his legs, oh his prepossessing face buried in something so dirty with so much pleasure. 

“ Ah..Uzair h ..hngh”

The voice was so sweet Uzair almost wanted to fuck you then and there, he couldn't do that now but he started preparing you for it streching your insides proffieciently with the help of his finger while his mouth flicked the bud in his mouth or sucked the soul out of you with low hums that were bringing you closer and closer to your release. It hurted slightly from the reckless way he moving his finger but then he would curl them just right sending shocks through your body, you were going to break so shamelessly and you knew it.

You gushed down his face screaming his name, your finger tangling in hair to lodge him out from in between your thighs but he was still hungry, lapping at your release like it was his first meal in days, savouring it with loud lewd embarrassing swish to his tongue which didn't seem to phase him at all he didn't stop until he had sucked you dry, till you were nothing but a crying mess. 

Uzair chest heaved with unspent arousal as he pulled back, the line around his mouth glistening with your fluids,  he sucked at your waist once hard enough to leave a hickey before finally gathering himself to sit back on his knees, pulling the pathani suit off of his body. You watched him through your blur vision, watching the body carved through harshness before you, his chest wide and covered in coarde thick hair muscles that defined the whole of his arm and broad shoulder, just as his chest a thick happy trail that ran down his stomach, he noticed the way you were watching him with those half lidded eyes of course he did , and for once he didn't mock it bringing your shaky hand right where his heart rested letting you feel his the neediness that showed through in each pulse. 

“ Sab tera hi hai meri jaan, shauk se dekho” 

You shook your head muttering something about him to let you go, that this isn't right, your words slurred from the soaring high you were put through seconds ago. 

Your body locked in place when his bulbous head tapped at your entrance, the pressure of it just touching your entrance told you this was impossible to accomdate and you have heard from your married cousins how much it hurts, how it's no good. 

“ Kya hua itna sehm kyu gayi? ” 

He patted your cheek watching your eyes go wide with panic, Uzair put the frustation aside, the anger the surge of possesiveness aside and just watched you, his hard length twitched like it had a mind of it own, the sheer size of it made you want to cry and he was so upset wasn't he? He was going to ruin you 

“Idhar dekh” He patted your cheek soft till your eyes finally focused back on his face, 

“ Kuch nahi hoga, bilkul dard nahi hoga” 

you whispered not making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion, before pressing the tip in further, “ Uzair!” your fingers tried to find comfort with the sheets, he pried your clenched fist open gently interlacing your fingers with his, giving your hand a small praising squeeze. “ Shh” 

“ Aaram se jaanu” he huffed roughly when your muscles tensed refusing to let him in, he let go of  one hand to massage the muscle around your thighs, rubbing the clit in gentle circles that made you drip out more of your wetness onto the mattress and his hard cock, he resisted the urge to slam in waiting till your walls adjusted to the head and then inch by inch he slowly descended inside you. There was no hymen tearing, no blood, no pain other than a dull drab. Tears glistened in your eyes that he didn't allow to grace your cheeks licking,kissing them away, “ Theek hai?” You nodded, it didn't hurt not like the heartbreaking descriptions your sisters told you in fact it burned in your core with an overwhelming fullness that you felt till your throat, maybe their husbands just did not how to do it OH FUCK he was your husband. Husband wouldn't be the right word to call it more like your captor- he buried himself to the hilt in a smooth one thrust blurring all the thoughts in your head. 

He pinched your clit gently, wracking your already very sensitive nerves, Uzair whole body shook from feeling your walls wrap around him like a vice, the bare heat was driving him crazy “ Ya allah, meri noor meri jaan” He started a rhythm that was exactly opposite of what you would expected from him right now, it was agonisingly slow making sure you felt each touted up veins of his length scraping into places you didn't know existed till now. This was more cruel, because you couldn't even pretend to put up a fight right now, it was like he coaxed you all the way into paradise and pulled back right before you could feel it, you needed it harder, faster. 

You nudged him closer, rolling your hips up in what felt a lot like defeat, he did not need words with you. He grabbed your ankles pulling them over his shoulder in one rough tug followed by a grunt that was not from the effort of shifting your position but for what he was going to do with you, burying himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open in a quiet scream, oh how you fucking regretted it. 

“ Meri hai tu” He pulled back before surging back deeper , crushing your cervix“ Sirf meri” thrust “ Teri har saans, har labz pe mera haq hai” thrust “ Aur agar agli baar mujhe chor ne koshish kari toh tera  voh hashr karunga ki yaad rakhegi” thrust “ Tere wajood par sirf meri saanson ka haq hai, meri qaid hi meri mohabbat hai” He groaned out the words  frantic and choked out in between his moans, your cunt clenched around him pitifully despite how scared you were and how much you hated how his words deduced you to his mere property but there was a thrill being owned like this that betrayed the logic of your mind with your body convulsing in need and for him.

He measured the very inside of your body with his ramming into you with heavy thrusts that made a loud thwacking sound with how your bodies slapped together, his hefty balls thumping at your taint. You weren't moaning sweetly anymore, you were mewling like a kitten, your toes curling with how violently he hit your sweet spot. The feeling tangled into a knot in your stomach, the shape of his dick showed through the belly bulge that he further pressed on his hand possessively watching how deeply he had claimed you. He lugged you sliding your legs down from his shoulders to his waist so it eased some of the cramps of your thighs, positioned you to wrap your legs around it, 

“ Pakad ”he hissed in frustration when you didn't comply he retorted to shoving in with a force that had you instinctively clinging to him, legs enclosing at his waist tightly, hands going to his shoulder to purchase. He started snapping his hips the position had sheathed his cock in deeper reducing his movement to a slight pull back and a vehement push back in. You tried to find some ‘freedom’ moving your hips back “Hilne ki himmat bhi mat karna, jaisa kaha hai waisa hi kar” In reply instead of defiance all the came out was a maim. Wiry hair brushed up at your clit in cue with his fucking the friction delicious along with the stretch inside you  making you more and more pliant, your nails dragging down the large muscular scape of his back leaving behind claw marks of you pulling him deeper and away all at the same time.  

Uzair’s breath quickened, his rhythm seemed to falter for a second before renewing back with more vigour the final blow being how he growled your name looking you right in the eyes with the desperation that he will go into rues if he didn't have you. Your whole being convulsed, gummy walls squeezing him in as you finally let go of the knot in your stomach with a raw hoydenish voice you did not even know you had in yourself. 

That howling turned into whimpers of his name as he still continued the brutality on your now puffed up pussy before he finally came to an end, forcing his hips down completely with yours like there was any space left and released spurts after spurts of his release, “ Meri jaan”

You sniffled crying into the pillow, “ Are? Ro kyu rahi hai?” He forced himself out of the half lidded haze to pull out slow from yours wall that still held on to him, “ Theek toh hai na?” What were you supposed to say? You were fine physically, quite frankly you were in a state of bliss but your mind felt so jumbled but you nodded regardless. He cupped your face so gently nuzzling your nose with his till he felt the heave of your chest drop into regular breathing , “ Kitni pyaari lag rahi hai” he muttered lovingly, tutting when he find his seeds spilling down your slit and makes it his responsibility to make sure all of it stays in. Scooping it up and pushing it back inside your swollen hole, you twitched whining.

You were too tired to say anything as he washed you in the tub with the expensive body bath that definitely did not belong to him ( its Ulfat’s lol) , clipped your nails so carefully handling the small device in his hand fondling your palm his, brushed your long hair and braided them loosely whispering about how precious you are. 

✧ ────── ✧ ────── ✧

You woke up, body still warmed up from his embrace your backside wet with white sticky fluids that he spilled on you while you were asleep, he grinned watching you stir and before you could fuss about the situation at your back “ Sorry na jaanu” he wipes it off clean with a damp cloth, 

“ Kapde laaya hoon tere liye, taiyar hoke niche aa jaiyo” 

“ Rehman bhai ko kya bolonge?” 

“ Ki tujhe le aaya hoon, thodi der se gussa karenge fir maan hi jayege”

“Bas?”

“ Haan toh voh khud bhabhi ko aise hi leke aagye the mujhe kya bolege” 

Your nose flared in anger, watching the set up suit and bangles at the bed for you to wear and act like this was normal, “ Pagal ho gaye ho aap” You muttered harshly, his smile dropped eyes darkening “ Majaak bana rakha hai mera!” You hustled away the set from your feet, his hand moved swiftly grabbing your jaw firmly 

“ Chup chaap se taiyar ho jaa, dimaag mat kharab kar mera” You shrugged him off with equal foulness, “ Accha theek hai sorry.. Chahe mujhse jitna bhi gussa hai neeche toh jaana hi hoga na fir bhi kapde toh phen le”  He eyed the exposed part of your body , before his gaze settled back at your face “ Bol toh kuch” 

You ignored him, the guilt of all that you enjoyed last was a heavy feeling that weighed down your shoulders but made you hold onto some pride, finding the only last piece of left defiance in you was to be quiet,not give him the privilege of your words, your anger because you knew with how depraved he had become he would have realised anything you gave him at this point, anger, hatred,love anything but indifference or profound sadness. 

You could hear their muffled arguments from downstairs as you dressed yourself in the clothes he had laid out, a peach pink suit of the colour of your lips, the bangles chimed in melody in contrast to the rough exchange of words that happened beneath the floor under your foot. You watched yourself in the mirror straightening out the suit that was threaded with thin embroidery of a metallic gold, the lines so thin it barely showed the lotus woven into it unless it caught light from outside, you draped the dupatta over your neck covering the marks he left behind so passionately. The door clicked open and he let himself in while you were in the middle of adorning yourself with the kohl he had put down on the vanity 

“Haaye” he whispered lovingly, exaggerating the sound by putting his hand on his heart as if wounded by your beauty, you held yourself back from rolling your eyes . Mashallah, jitni baar dekhoon tum aur haseen lagti ho” He closed off the distance in seconds, wrapping his arms tight around your waist, swaying you slowly. You didn't give your attention to him, eyes focused on yourself in the mirror, he tried wooing you by sweet talk and hums but your resolve remained all the same. 

He pulled you up in the same way he had kidnapped you from the street, just by waist and pulled you into his lap, securely as he plopped down on the bed. Nibbling your lower lip, only then you noticed the red mark on his cheek not from your slap from last night, he clearly got slapped again downstairs. ‘Good he deserved it’ but some part of you did not like that somebody put their hands on him and before you knew you had touched the mark, the thin pressed line of your lips shifted into a pout that he was more than willing to kiss away. 

“Aaine mein bhi khud ko mat dekha kar, mujhe hasad hota hai. Tu sirf meri aankhon mein khud ko dekhegi” 

Hasad- jealousy 

What a crazy man.

✧ ────── ✧ ────── ✧

 Faisal was as delighted to have you. When he saw you downstairs he clinged at your legs boasting about how he has a chachi now,  even on the breakfast table nobody commented on it. They just welcomed you with warmth and heartiness with Ulfat and Rehman giving you both blessings and talking about arranging a proper nikaah and walima for you both, Uzair one hand remained permanently glued to your shoulder keeping you pulled into his side , and everyone was laughing ? what a family of lunatics. 

Three days passed in silence while Uzair tried to keep you like a child, buying you expensive stuff moving all of your childhood bedroom into his room, whether it was watching you sit for hours or praising your beauty. He did it all with devotion, ending up tired and sleeping with his head on your lap.

He never missed the chance to kiss your forehead, Ulfat took off your nazar everyday and you felt like you were truly going mad because no matter how hard you tried to stay upset your legs would go weak at the sight of him, the oppressiveness so dear. 

They had arranged your second marriage and you weren't having it obviously, the fifth day you hugged Uzair from behind a calculated move, sniffling into the fabric of his pathani suit, “ Kya hua jaanu?” “ Ghar ki yaad aa rahi hai, abbu ke paas jaana hai” “ Mai leke chalunga na bas aaj nahi.. Aaj kaam hai na mujhe” You had known he would be busy heard it over when he was talking to Hamza on the phone and the brief eavesdropping you did on him and Rehman, and exactly why you had chosen this day, “ Mujhe aaj hi jaana hai” You fisted your hands crying loudly. You could see the stress take over his whole body, he gently tucked you into his chest, “ Bas bas..” he wiped the tears he couldn't handle seeing on your face, “ Phone rakh le abhi call pe baat kar liyo, kal leke chalunga pakka” You shook your head playing upset even though it was exactly what you wanted. “ Please jaanu kal pakka le chaluga”

The second he left you alone with the phone, alone in the house you were dialling your friends phone planning your escape, deciding on the road end for your friend’s car to pick you up. 

✧ ────── ✧ ────── ✧

The bustling roads were a chaotic mix of shoppers, honking motorbikes, and auto-rickshaws weaving past open-front fabric boutiques, shimmering jewelry stalls, and wooden street carts. The air thick with the rich aromas of frying samosas, spiced chai, and jasmine incense, while the continuous sound of street vendors loudly calling out prices blends with the lively hum of customers bargaining for the best deal while you treaded forward in the heat in the same clothes you were lazing in the house in, the print was fading , the neckline had lowered from the hundred times you had put it on before going to sleep and even when you steps were shot and quick there was a small part of you that did want Uzair to appear to pick you off the ground again, what a vile disgusting thought but it brewed, and burrowed deep in your chest. His warning echoing in your mind and burning between your legs “Meri baat kaan khol kar sun le, baahar ek qadam bhi mat nikaalna varna issi kamre mei band kardunga tujhe” 

You reached the end of the street and saw the white car parked in your peripheral vision, the face of your friend visible from the driver seat, she wasnt beckoning you in but sitting like a statue but you couldnt spend your time comprehding the look right now and lose the only chance at your freedom and rushed forward, holding the handle in your hand. 

A tall shadow loomed over you engulfing you whole, you didn't need to turn around the intensity at which your hand was yanked back told you who it was

Uzair threw you into the room uncaring of where you landed, you yelped out loud falling back on the marble with a dull thud your hair ruffled from the struggle and fight you had put up, he snapped your phone in two watching you with cold eyes

“Main ne tujhe tameez se rehne ko kaha tha, lekin tu masoomiyat ka libada odhe aik makkar loomri ki tarah bartao karti hai, ab yahin sar”

he snarled smashing the already broken phone into the floor, moving close leaning into where he had put you. His closeness seemed to suck the very oxygen out of the air, your lungs burning for air, you regretted every second you had spent admiring him, all the eight months you had spent making him follow you around like an abandoned puppy for your scraps of attention because he clearly wasn't the same man anymore. Your lips quivered, eyes flooding with tears, “ Kya dikhana chati hai sabko?” he glared at the falling neckline with pure unadulterated rage and disgust at how it showed the mole at the start of your breast a sight that was supposed to be reserved for him. 

“Tum ne nahi dekha ke kis tarah har mard bhooki nazron se tujhe sarak par chalte hue dekh raha tha, main ne dekha, main ne unhein us par nazrein jamate hue dekha jo mera hai, jaise woh meri jaan, meri mohabbat ko haath laga sakte hon” his hand grabbed at the nape your neck, coercing your face closer with his

“Yeh manzar sirf mere liye makhsoos hai” he grumbled his finger pressing into the mole with an intensity that bordered on violent. “ Sorry Uzair agli baar nahi hoga pakka” You pleaded, batting your lashes at him that were very heavy with teardrops, staring up at him with doe eyes.

 “ Yeh masoom chehra banane se woh nahi badlega jo tune abhi kiya hai, tujhe maine phele hi bol diya ki mujhe yeh tere bhaagne se saqt nafrat kyunki voh bhi ek jooth hai teri har baat ki tarah” You knew it was the half truth, a part of you craved the fear thrill of being chased by him but the other part of you was equally thrown off by what was your life had become. 

“ Uzair sach mei khuda khasam agli baar se nahi hoga” he catched you by your wrist and pulled you onto the bed and over his shoulder, you screamed as his hand hit at the delicate flesh of your backside , the pain making your jolt forward. 

“ Chup reh” 

He was pouring his bottled up pain and anger into your skin his hand coming down fast on both your cheek in harsh repeated motions with a precision that was made to sting, you s cried out kicking your legs only to feel his hand get tougher irritated by how there remained some fight in your heart. 

You screeched his name the small cries and whimper turning into loud heart breaking sobs as you couldn't understand what do with yourself,  that even the unbearable pain had found its way between your legs, making your throb and drip out more of your honey into the chaste fabric of your panties, Uzair stopped at the sound of your cries his hands stopping abruptly, he palmed your ass once tugging it up watching the plump fat jiggle as it came back down, landing a last undemanding spank that wasnt supposed to hurt, and it didn't it just seeped into your skin sinking down into a heavy ache between your legs, how he couldn't punish you for a minute without feeling like he would break himself, and the musk smell of him, his tobacco, the gun barell dust all of it so uniquely. 

He pulled down your plazo to expose your red bottom, the mark fresh and prickled when he soothed them with the very hands he caused them. You were facing him the other second still sobbing openly “ Ro mat.. Mujhse dekha nahi jaata” His hand dipped down your spine to the small of your back, holding you closer. “Aise karte ho fir bolto ho ro mat ,kitne gande ho aap” You sniffled , your nose turning red from how much your rubbed it clean from the back of your hand. 

“Mera dil dukhta hai yeh soch kar ke tum mujhe chhodna chahti ho, main tum se itni mohabbat karta hoon ke mujhe samajh nahi aata tum mujh se alag kyun hona chahti ho. Main jaanta hoon main sakht bolta hoon, aur tumhare jitna khoobsurat bhi nahi hoon, lekin main tum se pyar karta hoon, kisi bhi cheez se badh kar pyar karta hoon. Tumhare chhod jaane ka khayal bhi meri saansein rok deta hai, main khud par qaabu nahi rakh paata meri jaan” his hand slipped back lower to check for marks and swelling but find your wetness instead ,  “ Aap mohabbat nahi karte, yeh pagalpan hai. Khuda ke liye mujhe jaane do, mujhe aap se darr lagta hai” 

His strong hands grip your waist, effortlessly lifting your trembling frame like a delicate doll. "tum fir se jooth bol rahi ho” he murmurs, his brown eyes gleaming with dark intent as he unties the knot of his salwar, The thick fabric loosens and pools onto the marble floor, revealing the imposing heat beneath."Tujhe mujhse darr nahi lagta, tu is baat se darti hai ke tu mujhe chahti hai” his hard length pokes at your trembling entrance, you clutch at his shoulder refusing to be lowered. 

His heavy hands grip your hips, holding you suspended above his aching heat. He watches the violent shiver wrack your frame as his blunt tip presses against your slick entrance. A dark smirk curves his lips. “ "Tu jitna khud ko rokegi, utna hi mere qareeb aayegi” You bit your lips watching him as he slowly pushed forward to stretch you wide. The obscene sight of your pink inner wall expanded to fit around him, then slowly you nodded ,he thrusts upward sharply, forcing himself deeper into your slick heat while drawing a helpless gasp from your lips.

His chest rumbles with a frenzied grunt as your tight walls spasm frantically around his thick length he murmurs, “ Meri bhi apni jindagi hai..mai aise nahi reh sakti” You choked out on your words as he grinds deeper into your honeyed heat, savoring the helpless shudder that ran down your thigh, “ Tujhe teri jindagi milegi meri jaan, bilkul milegi mai har cheez mei tera saath dunga, lekin azaadi nahi milegi .. Mujhse nahi”

He started bouncing you, dismaying every thought that once was in your hand ending the argument before it could even begin pulling you up till he terrorised you with him leaving you empty, his girthy head almost out of your body breaking you into cries for him to not pull out only to be dropped back on. The sheerness of his length knocking the air out of your lungs each time, his tip hitting your cervix with devastating blunt force that made your eyes go back. All you saw was white, nothing more than a scattered breath made out of your mouth, “Uzair” he nodded crying your name feeling as helpless as you when it came to his feelings, he knew he was being cruel, bring down your life into the same mess he had been. 

“Mai kahi nahi jaungi” 

You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, steadying yourself and thrusted recklessly from below rutting into you at inhumane vehemence, with the urge to break you and he had finally got the first of your ruins, he was going to delve in it. 

“ Aapk joh bologi voh karungi” you drew half moons into his back and the nape of his neck, your very own canvas. His eyes fixed at the bounce of the ample flesh of your chest, hypnotised by the movement when he held your own hand to your engorged clit to watch how true you will stay to your words, how far would you go to obey him “Khud se kar” . You eased the bud all the shame drained out of you after all that had happened and for the need to be validated to be his good little wife like he intended you to be, “ Aur zor se” You obliged to his command nothing but mud in his hands, pinching the sensitive flesh hard and in an immediate response your back arched off like a drawn bow, a shriek tearing out from your throat but you didn't stop,listening to every degrading lewd order he gave you.

 You felt his length pulse in your cunt, your own velvety walls collapsing to hold him in deeper. You both came to your high at the same time, the wetness spilling to your hands, both of your clothes, not realising when your mouth had found each other, the passion burning into prurient whispers of each other's name with an exaltation that was unheard of

The room you were sitting in burned bright with yellow lights. You sat cross legged on a bed with your palms facing up, a soft smile adorning your face and you watched the two mehendi artists trace intricate patterns on her hand. The intense, earthy and herbal scent of henna mixing with the scent of roses wafting through the air from the rose garlands hanging on the wall. You had always dreamt of a moment like this but not in the circumstances which you were currently in now. You sighed in quiet defeat as you heard your ammi said

“Jitna gehra mehendi ka rang utna tumhara shouhar tumse pyaar karega”

All you could do was smile at them and just wonder if he really loved you or was it just obsession guised as love, but you also saw the softness he was watching you with right now from the side of your eyes , he wasn't performing for an audience ,no one was really looking at him including you ( according to him), he just liked watching you like a love sick fool, with his cheek rested into his palm with a boyish expression. 

You leaned back against the headboard, your palms still facing upward waiting for your mehendi to dry, back cramping from sitting straight for so long, you watched with rapt attention how Uzair was pacing around the room talking to someone, it was mostly curses but you couldn’t help but listen to it all.

When the mehendi of your feet and hand dried, you were still worried if you would smudge some of it. Uzair did not needed to be told twice and picked you up carefully not to crease your anarkali suit or disturb the design of your body, “ Bas aap logo ne bahut baat karli ab mujhe meri biwi chaiye” “ UZAIR” You blushed hitting at his chest.

He carried you upstairs, laying

 you so softly into the mattress you could feel the air kissing your skin“Uzair…aapse ek baat puchhni thi, abhi puchhu ya kaam me mashroof ho?” but the gentle breeze of a touch left you as soon as it came, he became occupied in his damn phone, the same phone that planted the seed of suspicion into your head and started all of this in the first place. 

“Puchh lo meri jaan joh dil kare, tere liye toh mai sab kaam chhod du”

“Aise baate mat kara karo, Mujhe puchhna tha ki aap do phones kyu rakhte ho apne saath”

“Kyu tujhe kya? Meri marzi”

This blatant audacity provoked you,

“Me puchh nahi sakti?!” Your voice went a pitch higher. 

“Mene aisa thoda kaha, bilkul puchh sakti ho par jawab dena hai ya nahi ye toh mera faisla hai na”

“Aap seedha seedha batate kyu nahi ? do phones rakhte ho?”

“Mere khudke kuch wajohat hai, mai tumhe kyu batau” 

He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your outburst and he was, oh how adorable you looked when your face scrunched up

“Kyunki mai aapki biwi hu. Aap kisi aur ladki se baat kar rahe ho na? Laga hi tha mujhe, aapko toh sirf jhoot bolne aata hai haq jatana aata hai, mazak udaya, pyaar ka natak kiya tha na aapne?!”Tears came quick to your eyes, you wanted to slap him but the mehendi was too pretty to ruin and you weren't sure if it had dried fully , you just let out a defeated sob and leaned back further into the mattress 

For the first time you saw panic in Uzair’s eye, the dread emanating off him in waves

“Nahi nahi please meri jaana rona mat!”

He tried to wipe your tears but you pulled back before he could lay his hands on you

“Me mazak kar raha tha, tere liya hi liya tha yeh dusra phone maine! Mere iphone se tere khatara bbm pe sms nahi kar sakta tha isliye ye vala liye, please jaana rona band karo, maaf kardo” from the day he had spent stalking you in the starting month, he observed the phone in your hand as you left college and bought the same of for himself before you two had even started speaking.

“Oh…..” was you all could say

“TOH YE PEHLE BATANE ME PAISE LAGTE HAI AAPKO?!”

“Main majak kar raha tha…”

“Bade mazakiya banne ki khwaish hai na appko jao aaj sofa pe so”

You can't believe all of this, all of this havoc for such a petty misunderstanding,

“ Are are itna gussa?” he crawled above your body watching you with that same ‘ i am not budging’ grin, “ Mera phone se takleef hai toh jab man kare check kar liye kar” he put down the phone by the side of your head, “ Kyunki jitna haq mera tujh par hai utna hi haq tera mujh par hai” 

And the next time you said  ‘qubool hai’ ( actually the first time) was in front of the veiled stringed of jasmine and roses, and a thin netted curtain, where on the other side sat Uzair, you were still very much his kidnapped bride but this time in the dress you had chosen, watching the deep red pool like blood at the floor as you finally accepted your reality, the reality that the rest of your life would be spent in his arms 

a/n- cant stress on how much my home girl saved my ahh hehe, hope yall would like it!!

Taglist-

• ​Boss!Hamza who constantly tracks your every move with those heavy, dark, intense eyes that make your skin prickle with heat whenever you walk into the room.

• ​Boss!Hamza who has absolutely no concept of personal space and constantly hovers around you. Whenever you approach his desk to show him a financial file, he steps right up behind your chair, leaning down so close that his broad chest completely flattens against your back. You are left trapped and breathless as his hot breath hits the crook of your neck and his rough beard ruffles against your bare shoulder, sending a desperate tingle straight to your core.

• ​Boss!Hamza who instantly catches the sudden hitch in your breathing and knows exactly the kind of intoxicating effect he has on you. Deciding to test his limits, his large, calloused hand slides up to gently grip your shoulder, rubbing his thumb against your skin until a soft, helpless moan escapes your lips before you can even stop yourself. This prompting a dark, rumbling chuckle from his chest as he whispers against your ear, "Beautiful."

• ​Boss!Hamza who completely loses his filter after that and just starts groping you whenever you are within arm's reach. He grabs your butt cheeks with those massive, warm hands of his, pulling you so tight against his frame that you can feel everything, casually planting a rough kiss on the top of your head while he subtly grinds against you right there in the office.

• ​Boss!Hamza who is utterly obsessed with your soft, full boobs and does not even try to hide it. Every single time you bend over his desk to show him a document, his eyes are locked directly onto your chest. He reaches out to slowly trace a finger along your exposed cleavage before losing his patience entirely, pulling you flush against him so he can cup you heavily in his rough, hard hands.

• Boss!Hamza who snaps after catching you tending to a wounded Rizwan, absolutely furious at another man being that close to you. Realizing that just touching you casually isn't enough anymore, he corners you against the wall the second the factory empties. Knowing you're desperate for extra money for your mother’s medicine, he lays out a ruthless, non-negotiable deal where he will pay for everything and more, but only if you accept that from this night on, you belong entirely to him.

• Boss!Hamza who loves cockwarming with you. Whenever the pressure of running Lyari gets to be too much and he is stressed out, he sits back on his throne shirtless, calls you over, and orders you to strip down and get on his lap. He loves lifting you up and pulling your body flush against his bare chest, locking you close while his hands softly run through your hair, letting out a heavy, satisfied sigh the second he feels you completely wrapped around him.

• ​Boss!Hamza who has absolutely zero boundaries when it comes to claiming you all over the office. The desk, the leather couch, his throne, and even the floor, nowhere is off-limits. He is so reckless and passionate that he completely wrecks the room, leaving even his expensive Persian rug a total mess with cum stains, and he does not even care because the chaos is just proof of how thoroughly he dominates you.

• ​Boss!Hamza who loves laying you completely flat on his leather couch, pinning you down while he takes his time with you. He hovers over you, his heavy, dark eyes completely locked onto yours, mesmerized by the way your full breasts move up and down whenever he fucks you hard. He feels your velvet walls gripping him tightly, as if sucking him inside you. He loves the breathless, flushed look on your face as he loses himself in your body.

• ​Boss!Hamza who loves to fill you with his warm seed. He is completely obsessed with the way your stomach seems to bulge out even more right after he releases his loads of cum into your fertile womb, and he loves nothing more than trailing his fingers down to trace and tease your bulging stomach while you try to catch your breath.

• Boss!Hamza who gets violently jealous the absolute second he sees Major Iqbal paying a little more attention to you than necessary. He completely snaps, dragging you by the wrist straight through the factory and barking at his men to get the hell out before slamming the office door shut. In a total possessive haze, he bends you right over the desk, aggressively pulls your salwar down, grips your butt cheeks, parts them, and shoves his aching length inside you with one powerful thrust, claiming you with absolute fury and making the desk violently shake. He then grips your hair to pull your head back, tears at the front of your kameez to get his hands all over your bare skin, and starts pawing your breasts, all while still moving into you with a punishing rhythm. The only noises in the room are the wet clapping sounds, the rattling noise of the desk, and your endless, moaning hiccups, while he growls low in your ear to remind you exactly whom you belong to.

Taglist:— [want to be tagged? just ask 🤍] 👇@anxiousbeeing @aditititiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @abolitionistlawpluscoffee @avasif @blossomedfloweroflove @batata04 @cvclee @chai-aur-chaand @chocolate-and-trouble @carpediemdps707 @crimsontraditiongolem @dilfconisuer @debsreads21 @falakrazzaq @gloriouspurpose01 @gulaabjamun08 @goldenharrysworld @gehra-hua @harrystyleskiwi9 @hereforfanfictionsfr @itsnotmai @itstiaofficial @indigo-pdf @kamalkafool @khlomoneyyyy4 @lavenderwinkle @laal-pari @miaaaow @miraclejin1204 @malekathesimp68 @main-apni-favorite-nahi-hoon @mainyahaankyunhoon @niyadarealart @nahhaaaas @ooopssssu @philosophical38 @pn28 @precioussophia @peonies7002 @rosiasthings @rehmandakaitswife @rosesandpeoniesthings @sea-breeze-in-my-hair @scornedloverr @sabii5 @st4rmiist @seasonofthenerd @saniisinsane @written-in-ishq @writrsblu [Ask to be removed anytime! ♡]

thanks to mah baby @chai-ke-sath-parleg

College started out as a peaceful temporary relief from the eyes of your forebodingly strict parents , you weren't half as interested in studying as you were in attaining some sense of freedom, your parents were your dearest ? yes, but were they also suffocatingly conservative and scared to let you out? Also yes

You course sat on the sidelines , study didn't have a knack for you but the ambition to score good did, so after time you learned to gobble up books you didn't fancy just for the sake of seeing an high score on the paper, you had girls you can call friends, girls who didn't judge you for your overly naive understanding of the world or the fact that you needed assurance to cross the road for the first few months, everything would have been if you weren't met with him, the day of your college fest that marked one of year of your anew life. 

For the first time in your life you had worn a dress, a dress that you had stuffed forcefully into your bag to change into it inside the college, first time all of your friends fell busy to an emergency and had to leave you alone in the late evening, they were worried of course so they wrote a small chit for you to follow, for what to tell the auto rickshaw driver and the address to go to where they were all going to meet eventually at the end of the night, you made it till there your hands clenched in a fist to attack the driver if he took a wrong but fortunately nothing happened in the auto you reached safely but your ears ringed with the sense that something was going to come your way. 

You checked the purse, shuffling through lipsticks, massacras, napkins, pads some spare change, you double checked going through every nook and corner of the leather that was half torn at the insides and yet no sign of the club ticket at all, it went up in smoke vanished like it had never existed, your first instinct was to ring up the phone but your friends hadn't reached themselves though and standing outside in a place that were a harbour for drunk was already settling off your - not used to people- brain. 

Your feet ached from the heels standing in front of the man who kept the gate closed telling him off in whispers that your friend would be here any second, and that you lost the ticket on the way but with the decibel you were speaking in he barely made out anything you were saying 

“ Y/N” 

It was a man, his voice reverberated in the dead of the night outside the club that was filled with the mixed jumbles of the songs that made out the door, a voice so distinct you froze in place, not a friend, not your relative, definitely not your father but a boy you had encountered in your early teens when you went to the Baloch Haveli with your father for work. 

You turned back slowly as if that would change the reality of you being caught, the world was a beautiful mess that night standing under the streetlights seeing the boy who once scared you standing over you as a man who terrified you,  before any words could even touch your lips he started 

“ Yeh kaise kapde phen rakhe hai tune” 

He eyed you down, piercing you with his gaze from the start of your head to the end of your bruised feet, you were decked up in a mini dress that fell mid thigh, a cleavage that plunged scandalously low. 

“ Aa.. Aap.. Yaha?. Ma.. Mai voh” 

“ Mai yaha kaam se aaya hoon…” He declared, stepping closer, “ Yeh sab kya hai y/n?” He scowled in disbelief , 

“ Aapse kya matlab”  is what you wanted to say so bad that you had to bite your tongue to hold back the words. 

“ Kya karne aayi ho yaha?”  he moved closer but in your eyes it looked like he had lunged on you with the way his grip settled on your chin lifting your head that you didn't know you had titled down to avoid his gaze. You hadn't seen him in years, this possessiveness didn't make sense, 

“ Party… meri friends bhi aa rahi hai.. Meri ticket ghum hogyi” 

You whispered your nose unwillingly, being flooded with the smell of sandalwood and cigarette butts from his hand, he shifted the hold from your chin to your cheek in a slow, daunting manner. 

“ Ladke ke saath aayi ho?” “ Nahi bilkul nahi” The rest of your words were a murmur but this was a coherent no because God bless if he said that to your dad, said any of this to your dad, “ Theek hai.. Fir, andar jaana hai?” You nodded but to Uzair it was a movement to soak in your fear , watch the way your overlined lips tremble at his proximity, how your eyes drifted side by side anywhere but his face, how your body could only see and feel one thing right now - him. 

He got off that power imbalance high before speaking again, “ Mai madad karu?” You looked back at the club, at the neon red from the banner that covered half his face but nothing could conceal the intent of his eyes and you were grown enough to tell right from wrong and Uzair he appeared he was one step away from crushing you into his arms and kiss you senseless, a thought that your made your heart beat dangerously faster, “ Nahi .. I will manage”

He shrugged back huffing a breath, your traced his hands that moved swiftly to his pocket to retrieve a cigarette and a metal lighter from the other. Perched up against the bonnet of his car away from you for now but his eyes fixed on one thing- you. You avoided it watching the line of people that made their way in, the door creaking to the buzz of the party opening and closing every few seconds at the end and the more late it got, there were more men on their bicycles performing their usual hooligans. 

You could perceive by now that they were taking extra rounds to ogle at you, whistling when they crossed by. Anxiously you pulled at the hem of your dress with one, one hand that tried to lift the front up so it can at least reach your collarbones, you knew you looked ridiculous right now but the thrum of fright was making you work against your conscience, sniffling you looked up at Uzair who was already staring at you. The one glance was enough, he strided over to you in a fraction of time his palm covering the span of your waist as he pulled you flushed into his side. 

You couldn't think anything as you delved your face into his chest crying low, engulfed by his tall frame while the soft fabric of his pathani that has turned coarse with time scuffed at your skin and your hands fisted into his suit. “ Shhh” He hand caressed the back of your head, his finger going to tread through our waves , “ Yahi pe reh” He let go partly, yanking the closest man by his collar,

 “ Maafi maang!”

Uzair spat out his cigarette rasping out in his face, “ Maafi maang bandi hai meri” the man stumbled too drunk and confused to get his words right thrown off completely by the fact that he was facing  Uzair , or that he messed with something that's his when the apology didn't come as soon as he anticipated he fell back into his vexation striking his hand hard enough against the man’s cheek. He fell back from the impact, mouth bleeding and the ring in his ear had sobered him up he knew more than enough to not get into the bad looks of the baloch brother, in front of men who runs the whole of Lyari,

 “Maaf kardo madam”

You peeked out nodding at him snapping back at Uzair who had gotten a hold of you and had started walking you to the door, his jaw shut tight, “ Mai aapki bandi kab ban gayi? UZAIR?” you winced in distress, his grip only tightened further , watching at the bouncer with vacant eyes till he opened the gate for you two, “ Uzair kya kar rahe ho?” You hissed, flailing but now enough to bother his hold on you because you were curious to see what he was trying to do.

He ‘threw’ you into the corner, face shoved up against yours

“ Main kya karoon? Kya tujhe wahan aisay hi chhor doon taaki gair mard tujhe ghoorte rahe?”

“ Aap bhi ..gair mard hi ..hoon”

you argued back at all you could breath in was him, pressed against the cold wall,

“ Hato please”

You tried inadequate enough to not budge him but enthral him closer. 

It was a fleeting memory that didn't leave your head for days when you first saw him, you were 10 in your frilly skirt, he was 17 talking to your father. You were spanning the unreal chimerical vast haveli with unblinking eyes when he leaned in to rustle your hair muttering “Motu” lovingly, your cheeks stayed puffed up for a week after that, burning with spleen. The next time you met him you were thirteen and he didn't even turn to look at you (of course) as you kept staring admiring the beauty in front of you, and between this your years passed with no conversation but he had made a mental note that you were the daughter of the man who worked at his factory and that’s all it was supposed to be and had been for years.

“ Tu ne kis qisam ke kapray pehn rakhe hain? Aur akeli bahar ghoom rahi hai?, tujhe kuch andaza hai ke tere sath kya ho sakta tha?”  

“Please Uzair hato yeh kya kar rahe ho aap” with both hands you pushed at his chest only to become entranced by how his muscles felt under your touch, the warmth of his skin radiating off of him and and the pulse of his wildly beating beating heart,

 “ College mei toh bahut shareef ban kar jaati ho” 

“ Kyunki voh college hai yeh club hai….ek second aapko kaise pata-”

 “Ek mahine se dekh raha hoon tujihe” He muttered out 

“Kya..”

He didn't care to explain himself further but his eyes had darkened significantly, your softness disparity perilously opposed to hard planes his body was, his eyes lugged at your face then to the cleavage that perched up,

“Cover kar”

He grunted tossing his vest at you,

“ Nahi karna mujhe cover..aap hato yaha se please”

He crashed his body with yours, quelling your escape with himself. He was hiding you from the view of everyone limiting the world to you both, you had known these cages, that what your life had been but you have never felt this staggered. 

“Hil mat”

“Mere friends ayege toh mujhe dhundhege” 

“Mai dekh loonga”

“Uzair-”

“Hil.mat”  he was exasperated and the you attempted one last time before coming to the salient conclusion, you weren't winning against him.

Apart from your knowledge he was also fully familiar with your friends not in the normal decent human way but in the way that he had been stalking you so precisely he was aware of all the people that dawdled in your surroundings.

Even when your friends  had found their way there he wasn't moving till you had put on his vest that didn't fit you at all but he couldn't care less if it covered some of your flesh, 

“ Yeh yaha kya kar raha hai Y/N?” 

they asked in hushed tone not daring to catch his eyes  “ Mujhe bhi nahi pata, please tolerate him for now” 

“ Tumhe bhi nahi pata ka kya matlab?”

“Family friend hai..mera khyaal rakhne aaye hai”

 Surprisingly he didn't stop you from dancing ( as if he had the right to in first place), he just stood there like a statue repelling off anyone man that came in you and your friends way, but not for once you could dance like the world around you didn't exist because he clearly did with that piercing gaze and somewhere in between you had started dancing for him. Shaking your hips to the beats with your back turned to him waiting for the fabric to ride up your thighs to give him a brief view of your lace panties , deliberately touching his skin acting as if reaching for balance or absentmindedly, you did not understand yourself what you were doing maybe getting back at him for calling you motu all those years back.

You picked up your heels into your hand following behind him out the club when the clock had struck one, “ Mai drop kardu?” He interrupted watching you all fuss over to catch a taxi, your eyes shot up meeting his  “ Ghar hi chorunga” Smugly he remarked spinning the keys of his car on his finger easily, “ Inhe chor do pehle.. Mere abbu 8  baje se phele ghar nahi aane waale aur unke hisaab se mai vaise bhi inke ghar par hoo” 

“ SHIT Y/N mai batana bhool gayi thi par tum mere ghar par nahi aa sakti infact mai bhi mere ghar nahi jaa sakti.. Vahi emergency thi sab hospital pe hai and ghar locked hai toh mai apne mama ke ghar jaa rahi hoon, we can find you hotel on the way-” “ Mere yah ruk jayegi” Uzair declared moving so fast that you couldn't even blink and found yourself in his passenger seat, another second all your friends was giggling in the backseat. 

One by one he dropped them off till it was just you two in the car, your phone flooded with messages of text to me when you got home, “ Aap sach mei mujhe apne ghar leke jaa rahe ho?” “ Haan.. Kyu tum kisi hotel mei sona prefer karogi?” “ Ghar… khaali hai?” “ Kaash hota” He stretched his arms letting go of the steering completely passing you a lazy smirk, the sleeves of his suit slid up revealing his dusted forearms , his left hand never back to the steering resting at your shoulder, you shrugged your shoulder but he didn't bother drawing circles at the bare skin humming along to the radio. 

“ Darne ki jarrurat nahi hai, bhaiya bhabhi sab ghar par hai”

 You caught back your breath throwing him a half glare 

“Mai dar nahi rahi thi aur yeh aap haath hatao”

 “ Jaise tu kahe meri jaan” 

“ EXCUSE ME? please yeh sadak chaap bad-tameezi mat karo mere saath”

 “Bad-tameezi? Aur club mei joh tum kar rahi thi voh kya tha ?” He asked derisively, his fingers drumming at the steering 

You remembered the way you tried to give him a tease dazed in the music and the setting it didn't feel so hard to do, he could not exactly do anything about it in front of your friends and perhaps that why you were so tempted to do so as well, he had scared the life out of you for a few movements and regaining back that control felt nice..until you were in a car with him locked inside with the windows shaded black

  “Maine kuch nahi.. Kiya” He didn't argue but the pink on your cheeks and the crack of your voice spoke for the both of you 

The ride came to its end in front of the one of most polished and eminent building in Lyari, their haveli touched with time the minors crack noticable but from the inside it was just as you remembered it with the glass stained arches and windows, the low hanging intricate jhumars and and all wooden furniture carved with classic designs, soon at your entrance you were met with his nephews holding their hand out from already expecting to catch Uzair doing something that will result in him giving them enough money for a month pocket money

You jumped slightly at the two but both of them looked equally shocked to find you, Uzair just sighed at himself  

“ Yeh kaun hai chachu?” Faisal exclaimed in a whisper, “ Isse kaha se utha laaye aap” Naiem added. 

“Chachi hai tumhari” He snickered, you shook your head firmly in a clear ‘NO’  “ Hone waali” Uzair said as if that made any more sense than what he said last and honestly you were blown away from the audacity “Chachu paise nikaalo” “ Baad mei le lena” “ Abhi do” They both reprimanded, you stood awkwardly with your heels in one hand, one hand holding the dress down. 

You followed Uzair to his room upstairs, you finally realised how stupid this was agreeing to come here and now he had you in HIS ROOM or maybe that's what you wanted, no it can't be, you clearly mixing up butterflies with the flight instincts in your gut to run from this place from his intense gaze,

“ Koi aur kamra nahi hai?” 

“ Hai” he said simply opening the curtains to cover the window pulling the room into darkness. You squeaked your body feeling numb from the fear

 “ Toh..mai vaha so jao” 

“Nahi”

 The careless flirt was miles better than this serious tone that gave away nothing, it did actually but  you didnt wanna admit that you threw yourself into the lion's den, 

“ Kyu nahi?” 

You walked back slow on your tip toes so he wouldn't figure out if you are moving back in the dark trying not to give away any anything to him that would make him lunge at you, 

“ Kyunki maine kaha”

 You did not reply or else your voice going distant would give him the hint,

“ Aur kitna bhaagogi?”

You steps paused, foot tangling with the bed side as you tumbled back into the plush mattress , your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the greyed outline of Uzair moving closer till he was above you, tremors ran down your whole body as his coarse hands traced down your cheek, “ Uzair please” You breathed out, “ Please kya?” He asked his finger hooking beneath the thin strap fabric of your dress that barely covered any of your shoulder it was almost a line sitting at your skin, your mind stopped working for a second before you gathered enough words to speak again,

“ Mai chilla doongi”

“ Chilla do kaun bachayega?” he creeped up closer till your breaths were one, your eyes widened at the implication of this closeness even if you were scared you licked your lips, your body working overtime against your concise. 

He threw his head back laughing loudly, “ Kitna darti ho yaar?” you sat up huffing angrily to hide how riled up you were amidst your fear, “ Yeh kaisa majaak tha?” “ Accha baba sorry.. Mai dusre room mei soo jaunga .. dont worry..,lamp yaha hai and washroom is taraf hai” he pointed at the door in one corner getting up leisurely 

“Goodnight”

“ Itni fikr hai meri?” 

“Aise bas bolte hai..manners hote hai” You fixed your clothes, pulling up the blankets to your chest “ Aapko kaise hi pata hoga” you added on in a whisper

“ Mhm? Firse bolna jara”

He said like he had taken any offence if anything he found your fussiness adorable but definitely the terror struck face was one of the best views he had encountered and he wanted to see more of it. You shook your head instantly shutting up ,it was hard not to get mouthy when he was this infuriating. 

In the morning you stripped off the sparkly sequin that stuck to your body changing back into the clothes you left the house in, a decent pista green salwar suit. 

Uzair was initially confused at the 180 when you answered the door but he could see how it complimented , the constant fight with the clothes to keep your dignity and the way you way you teased the most hidden parts to him last night now wrapped in this innocence was amusing as well as enticing-he liked your little lies. And he couldn't deny that you looked stunning last night but the grounded look had him in more of a chokehold.

“ Dress kaha gayi?” “ ..Purse mei hai” he raised his eyebrows, “ Ghar chalna hai? “ “ Haan.. Ab tak toh abbu pahuch gaye hai.. Call aaya tha unka” 

“ Bhaiya dikhe toh bol dena tum abhi aayi hoon” “ Par-” “ Baaki ka mai sambhal loonga” 

You felt so out of place trying to walk past the suspicion filled gaze of his men that saw you, acting like you belonged there in any sense of the word knowing damn well your life was back in a shabby home and even that was courtesy of Rehman, no wonder your family boasted them like they were the gods sent men and you were scared to do anything that went against what they found ‘good' a word that already did not fit in with the gangster lifestyle. 

Ulfat stopped in her place watching you walk behind Uzair like a scared mice, holding the edge of your kurta tight in a desperate attempt to disappear you were caught, and worse Rehman was also there walking to where she was, “ Uzair yeh kaun hai?” Rehman called, why him?! It would have been a billion times better if it was Ulfat doing the questioning. 

“ Yeh Rashid ki beti” “ Hi uncle” Is all you could manage over your nervousness “ Humare ghar par kya kar rahi hai” “ Mai leke aaya isse” “ Kyu?” “ Ghar aa kar bata ta hoon na bhai isse phele chor du” 

“ Kya bolege aap unhein?”  you closed the seat belt in place asking him finally,

“ Rehman bhai meri sab zidd puri karti hai, unke phele bete jaise joh hoon mai”

You stated trying to understand what he meant, scrunching up your eyebrows to comprehend what that zidd was. He relished it really that naiveness paired with boldness, that zidd was undeniably you and his Rehman bhai wasn't going to stop him on his reckless pursuit. 

The whirr of the engine came to an end a hundred metres before your house, the morning was awfully quiet today of all days it was 6 and yet no usual clutter or people were there, “ Thanks” You opened the door steadying your brain to not turn back to take second glances and just go back home when he blocked your path, you found yourself against the bonnet fiddling with your dupatta to avoid the cinnamon, cigarette smell of him, or the fact he had yet again scared the life out of you.

“ Uzair-” “ Itni shareef toh ho nahi tum ki tumhe samajh nahi aayien ki mujhe kaya chaiye” “ Kya chaiye?”  his eyes drifted to your lips without any shame, “Bilkul nahi” You gasped moving away but he was quicker, more wrecked then you would have imagined,  his both hands slapped against the bonnet at either side of the body easily caging you in. “ "Tu janti hai mujhe is lams ki talab hai” You had noticed it before the way they  had become his attention undivided from everything else but the raw gritty voice made your skin crawl 

“ Mujhe nahi pata aur mai yeh sab nahi karti” You fidgeted with your clothes stealing glances at him who seemed to be only getting closer by the passing second , you turned your head away quick when he was almost about to kiss you making him tut once because he saw how your lips had already parted in anticipation but still you wanted to be defiant, his hands skidded at the metal surface creating a screeching sound before they settled right beside your both hips hands brushed against your covered skin but still enough to burn you from inside.

“ tumhare baap ka ghar yaha se do minute bhi door nahi hai, batao mai unhe ki unki beti kaha thi raat bhar? kya phenti hai kaha jaati hai”

you choked on your words he couldn't be seriously blackmailing you right now? But his expression was clear as day. It was hard to differentiate the man often. If he was joking he was dead serious and for now he looked serious.  It's just a kiss - you told yourself gulping down hard to face closing your eyes.

 “ Yeh sahi nahi hai jo aap kar rahe hai-” You blinked up once to find the viscous all drowning need on his face that didn't belong to these soft blissful mornings, you squirmed under it. your body finding a place to hide which you couldn’t.

“ Acchi baat hai ki mujhe ghanta farq nahi padta ke main sahi kar raha hoon ya galat. Aur agar tujh pe haq jatana bura hai ... toh mujhe bura hi ban na hai. Rok sakti hai toh rok le"

He sealed your lips with his, his head tilted so he could devour you as if nectar dripped from your lips, as if you were flesh plump washed up with rain, sucking the tender low lips with his. You stood like a statue soaking in the veneration. It was a slow careful kiss, his hands finally sliding up from the bonnet to hold your hips even though there was no need to, you weren't moving anyways not in this life. Uzair’s beard grazed at your skin in contrast to the softness his lips moved with, you were tempted to kiss back like it would not have any consequences.

 Your lips separated with a soft sigh, moving your head along with his in a trance he welcomed the movement his large hand cupping the back of your head with a satisfied hum at your surrender, while the other rubbed circles at your hips that treacherous heat travelled straight to in between your legs, he only pulled back when he saw he saw the usual crowd leave their house but he still did not want to let go of the warmth, his lips catching at your cheek instead 

“ Aise hi acchi lagti hai, jab shareef banke rahti ho” 

He spread open the fabric of your dupatta, the cloth spanning over your shoulder down to your chest, completely covering the silhouette, he was lying you looked good either way but he had seen the way you teased that thin strip, he was beyond worried if that display existed for anyone else, 

“ Dhang se chunni ood ke jaaya kar college ab se varna sach mei teri padhai band kara doonga” The foulness returned with full force and so did the tremble of your body but you could not find any words to defend yourself right now, how would you look uttering them with your now swollen lips . He tossed his phone at you catching you off guard, he had brought a new blackberry messenger to talk with you putting back his iphone at phone, “ Number daal isme apna” You opened your mouth to say no , “ Jaldi kar varna koi dekh lega” the urgency of the familiar faces emerging out from their house made your finger press into the keypad before you knew it.

The validation of being worshipped was so blinding you forgot your fear, the logicality of how reckless he was, how volatile he was

“ Milne ayegi mere se?” You had picked up the call he gave you after your third lecture, the name Janwar baloch on your screen 

“Kyu pareshaan karte ho aap college mei hoon abhi”

You muttered but pulled the phone closer to your ear,

“ Chal na, joh bolegi voh khilaunga”

“ Sach mei?!!!”

“ Haan toh ab bol chalegi?”

“ Bas khaane ke liye aa rahi hoon aapke liye nahi” 

“ Haan bilkul” “ Kaha aau?” “ Gate ke bahar tak” “ Aap yaha ho?” “ Haa toh” 

You bit back your smile, blushing into the phone and just like that you were eating the infamous chaat while he watched quietly but so fondly you felt like you would melt, “ Ice cream khayegi?” he asked when your mouth was already full from the last overly filled scoop you took, you nodded enthusiastically. He wiped the cream from the side of your mouth gently watching you still with that unspoken adoration and the way you tried to ignore the warmth in your heart. It did not take long for these meeting to become the staple and for it be usual for you to be pressed up in a shady alleyway wall making out with him at least twice a week, your fingers fisted in his hair and shirt not ready to let him go each time, kissing him back with the same frenzy as his in which teeth met before lips. 

It was one of those days again but it just got intense with the wet sound of lips smacking together Uzair hands weren't tangled in your hair or gracing the nape of your neck but pulling you up by thighs, you complied wrapping them around his waist only pulling him closer comical view with how modestly you were decked up. You swept your tongue along his only feeling more enticed from the change of position your back scraped at the brick wall, your tongue brushed at his sensitive palette and he groaned hip hips jerking up and then you felt it. A rock hard feel poking in between your legs, he thrust forward once before hurriedly putting you down, turning away from you to compose himself. 

“ Sorry Y/N”

But that groan has stayed with you keeping you from falling asleep you and the concept of time has slipped from your mind every time you closed your eyes you were there again in his arms again wondering how it would have gone if he didn't control himself, you pressed your thighs together to relieve some sighing at another unsuccessful attempt to fall asleep. Tentatively you reached down into your pyjamas, fingers fiddling to find that sweet bud that always throbbed at the thought of him, you had one picture of him in your phone, the one phone you had sent over to yourself secretly by his phone. You were ashamed but this was your own room. It's not like anyone was going to know, you turned on your phone, it was 2:00 am- goddamit. You found his photo ,the ache only growing at the vision, your finger pressing firmly at the clit, you started drawing small circles, eyes glued to the phone when the notification popped up of his name. 

Your  heart jumped and you instantly pulled back your hand 

Uzair rn- 

Bra ki strap kyu dikh hai 😡😡

You were honestly disappointed that's all he had to  say to the sleazy picture you sent him. Maybe it was you whose head was in the gutter. 

8 months passed in the same serendipity and to your luck he had not asked the quintessential question of whether with was serious and from the way he lived his live you could deduce that much at least it was not for him, and you had only recently discovered that he carried two phones , he might have as well written on his forehead at this point that you were not the only girl he was seeing  so you started ignoring him as he +leaned outside your college gate every odd day, You gave him the cold shoulder walking straight ahead deliberately making sure your dupatta wasn't in place just to irritate him a step further “ Oh hello kaha?” “ Aapse kya?” “ Mujhse kya? Meri bandi hai tu-” You didn't hear him out walking straight past him with your friends giggling openly at his shocked face. 

Your father dropped the new of you shifting to islamabad to live with your khala given the better opportunities and less danger there and it really wasn't that big a deal to you this topic had been discussed over dinner one too many times and it was certain at some point you were going to live town because your father with how closely he was associated with gang work you would get hurt but the thing was you had not told it to Uzair, you honestly wanted to see his face drop at the information he had bothered you in the entirety of whatever you had , this was going to be your small getting back at him movement and then you would move to a different state all together leaving him behind, that idea stinged a little but you pushed it aside you have been prepared for this day for a long time now. 

You made sure the words reached Uzair ears through your friends, getting extra decked up with lining your eyes with deep kohl and lining your lip with a chasmic hue of coral pink  filling them in with a lighter shade brushing your cheeks up with a slight blush . You choose between your clothes settling for a beaded white kurta and sharara set a little too decorative for your college but it's okay it was your last days here after all. 

“ Dekhna pakka aaya hoga” You snickered walking to the door with your friends behind you, 

“ Y/N” he stood up straight at the smell of your jasmine perfume, throwing the cigarette to the ground crushing it with a violent force that already should have told you this wasn't a good idea he wasn't his usual composed self  right 

“Hume nahi karne aapse baat please aap pareshaan mat kiya karo” 

You half whispered, clutching the books tighter to your chest, walking past him trying to look as gullible as possible, your eyes finding the floor , he yanked your wrist hard, staggering your steps pulling you back to face him. The books crashed on the ground and you saw how genuinely hurt he looked,

 “ Yeh kya bad-tameezi hai haath choro mera” 

“ Kaha jaa rahi thi? Ek baar batana bhi jaroori nahi samjha tune mujhe”

 “ Mai aapko kyu bataungi, its my life meri marzi ki mujhe yaha Lyari mei rehna hai ya fir islamabad mei”

 “ Tu kahi bhi jaa rahi hai mujhe batana tha y/n”

 “ Humaara aise koi rishta nahi ki mai apne failse aapse puch ke loon” his grip tightened painfully, jaw shut tight before he spat out ,

 “ Koi rishta nahi hai?” you twisted your arms struggling to get free, your winces catching attention of people around but no one dared to step in, including your friend who were stuck in place 

“UZAIR HAATH CHORO MERA!” You shouted, finally breaking free from him, shifting quickly to walk away. His one hand clamped at your mouth, the other snaked firmly around your waist lifting you off  the floor. This clearly was a joke anymore, you shouted into his mouth your limbs thrashing in his grip. You kicked your legs at front uncaring about how ridiculous you looked, throwing your hands in the air watching your body get hauled closer and closer to the car standing there with the open, you could hear your friends yelling over his brisk breaths right behind you, his body crushed with yours forcefully. 

He threw into the backseat slamming the door shut just as quick, the lock clicked in place as he turned the key, your ears perked up watching how rapid his each movement was right now, dialing the number on his phone.

“ Hamza tu Rashid ke ghar pahuch ” “ Uzair.. Yeh kya kar rahe hoon Uzair?” “ Shaadi kar raha hoon” hot strings of tears blurred your vision as you were finally understanding what was happening, “  DIMAAG KHARAB HAI KYA AAPKA! CHORO MUJHE UZAIR” You slapped your hands at the glass, the world remained unaware of your scuffle behind the black tinted glass that let nothing outside, you pulled at the handle as if that would do anything if anything he sped up more. 

The car stopped in front of your house, you were scared at how little less power you had and at what had taken over him, perhaps nothing had taken over him, this was who he was after all. He dragged you up the stairs ignoring all your shouts and blows at his body, “Choro mujhe! Uzair!”

You were compelled to stand at the door watching Hamza threaten your dad so calmly it seemed like a conversation shared over breakfast, “ Aapki zindagi ka har saans hamare reham-o-karam par hai. Aap, aapka ghar, aapka kaam... sab kuch hamara hai. Aise mein apni beti ko hamare hawale karna... aapke liye koi mushkil faisla nahi hona chahiye. Samajhdari isi mein hai”  He said leaning into the chair your father was seated in paralysed from the fear, meeting with mock calm smile till he nodded 

“ Yeh aaltu faaltu ke kaam mei mujhe mat laya kar bhai” Hamza yawned stretching like he wasn't just enabling a forced wedding, Uzair rolled his eyes pushing you inside, “ Baith” He commanded nodding at the other chair by the table where a thin stack of paper sat, you were a little grateful at the situation because well you didn't have to explain to your Abbu what was going to between the two and he wasn't clearly going to ask between all of this. When you did not move he pushed you further, pressing hard on your shoulder till you had no choice but to sit down. 

“ Sign kar isse” “ Pagal hogaye hai aap” You snarled at him, his quickly pulled out his gun from the holster pressing it to your the side of your head, he never once even allowed you to touch when you were with him, scolding you for even looking  at it for too long and now he was holding the very gun so coldly to your skin, your breath collapsed as you finally broke to ugly sobs, quietly joining your hands togethering , he shook his head pushing the barrel more into your skin, “ Sign.kar” 

You saw the brief flicker in his eyes at how you were looking up at him, his resolve remained unawavered, “ Sign.kar” With shaky hands you held up the pen, scribbling at the paper. You couldn't recognise your own name there on the pristine white of sheet, Uzair finally lowered the gun, unexpectedly going to kneel down pressing a gentle reverential kiss to both of your quivery hands, the action sending sparks through your body despite the dread of the moment. His head bowed further resting at the soft of your palm like he had found eternal peace 

You were his.

a/n- idk bro before you come for me, i am very tired pls dont beat me, also I know the phone convo looks odd,i edited it all on canvas :.) and I had to search up a bbm phone texting format jiske liye there were basically no pictures I made that all from scratch i am sorry if it looks tacky