Part 4 ~ Usey Takte Takte Takte Umr guzaarun
Dare Gone Wrong Masterlist
Summary ~ A chaotic Y/N, pulls a wild dare by accusing a stranger of being the father of her "unborn child" in a crowded mall, only to later discover that the man is Uzair Baloch.
A/N ~ I’m really sorry for such a late update. Thank you so much for being so patient with me. And before I post the next part of this series, I’ll be posting the Sushant Bansal one-shot I’ve been working on. Also, a little apology in advance— because I’ll be using the same taglist from this series for the one-shot since I don’t have a separate taglist.
[THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT ROMANTICISE, SUPPORT, OR JUSTIFY THE ACTIONS OF ANY CHARACTER OR REAL-LIFE PERSON. EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS ONLY IN THE CONTEXT OF THE CHARACTERS FROM THE MOVIE, AS WELL AS THE GROWING ADMIRATION FOR THE ACTORS WHO BROUGHT THEM TO LIFE.]
HEARTS & COMMENTS WOULD BE APPRECIATED.
The last two hours had passed in a blur of panic and restless waiting. But thankfully, Uzair was fine. There was nothing life-threatening about his injury. The doctor had reassured them more than once that it was only the impact from the sudden hit, that had knocked him unconscious for a while.
But still, the image of it kept replaying in Y/N’s mind against her will.
One second he had been standing in front of her, and the next he had his hands wrapped around her before the heavy metal frame could hit her. Even now she remember, the sickening sound that followed, the way his body lost its balance, and how her own heartbeat had stopped for a terrifying moment
But now the chaos had settled, still her guilt refused to.
Y/N sat quietly in the corner of the room, unusually silent for once. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, fingers twisting together every few seconds as if she did not know what else to do with them. She had spent the last two hours convincing everyone she was fine, but her eyes betrayed her completely. They had turned slightly red, glossy from the tears she stubbornly refused to fall.
It felt stupid to cry over this. He was okay. The doctor had said he would wake up anytime now. But she could not stop blaming herself.
Every time Yalina reassured her that it was not her fault, she nodded quietly. Yet her gaze kept drifting towards him again and again, towards the faint bandage near his neck, towards the stillness that looks so foreign on someone like him.
Only if she had not played that stupid dare on him.... If he wouldn’t have come there.... If he had not tried to protect her.... he would not have gotten hurt in the first place.
And somehow, that thought sat unbearably heavy inside her chest.
Looks like her mother had been right all this time. Maybe she truly is a problem that needs to be fixed. Maybe her mother was right when she said to her, that she’s a mess people are eventually going to get tired of cleaning up. The memory quietly slipped into her mind like something old and familiar. Like those rusty knives that look ordinary but could cause devasting deaths.
She sighed softly and stepped out of the general ward, settling onto the cold metal chairs outside. Her eyes travelled towards the window, it’s iron bars looking rusty in a devided series, a little crack visible on its glass pane. Outside white cottony clouds floated lazily over the sky, forming strange shapes and patterns, quietly trying to speak to her in a wordless language.
After her birth, her mother developed secondary infertility, which means she would never be able to have another child again. And perhaps because of that, all her attention and love, every dream, every expectation, every fear she carried slowly began revolving around Y/N alone. But somewhere along the way, wanting the best slowly turned into demanding perfection.
Her entire world centered around shaping her daughter into someone perfect. Perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect behavior, perfect everything.
To her mother, even the smallest mistake felt unacceptable, so Y/N grew up constantly trying to meet standards she barely understood. And whenever she fell short, whenever she did something that didn’t fit the image of perfection, then disappointment and punishment would follow soon.
Her mother had always looked at her like she is some poorly finished project that constantly needed fixing. The way she spoke was always too careless, the way she laughed was always too loud, the way she sat, ate, dressed, reacted. In general, everything about her seemed to fall short to some invisible standard only her mother could see and measure.
If Y/N spoke too much, she was immature. If she stayed quiet, she was sulking. If she laughed openly, she lacked grace. If she argued, she was disrespectful. She had spent so many years under that harsh light that she wonders if her mother even judges the way she breathes.
Especially during those random bursts of anger that she haven’t understood till this second. One small thing would go wrong, and suddenly the air in the house would grow heavy with disappointment. But she had learned very young that it’s easier to apologize than to argue.
Her mother did not even allow Y/N to call her Ammi. She preferred Mother.
She still remembered being small enough to tug at her mother’s clothes and accidentally say Ammi once after hearing some random child saying it so naturally. But her mother had corrected her immediately. “Ammi nahi” she said calmly, though the sharpness beneath it was impossible to miss “Say mother.” And after enough repetitions, the correction settled into habit.
Meanwhile, Yalina found the entire thing unbelievable.
The first time Y/N had mentioned it, Yalina had stared at her for full ten seconds before bursting into laughter.
“Phir toh aunty pani ko bhi H2O bolti hongi” she said with her usual dramatics, making Y/N laugh in disbelief.
And after that, the jokes never stopped.
“Aunty ki zaban mein bolu tho— Mere babu ne ‘nutritional substances’ le liye” she would say refering to lunch or dinner. It was ridiculous and funny.
But if her mother was the part of her life that constantly demanded perfection, then her Abbu was the part that allowed her to breathe.
He was warmth in its simplest form. Soft where her mother was strict. Loving in an ordinary way that made a child feel safe like they should.
He would take her on random evening walks to nearby parks because the weather felt nice. Sometimes he would buy her and Yalina ice creams after school and listen patiently to their nonstop talking like their tiny stories were the most important in the world.
He would encourage her to climb trees with a proud smile, encouraged her to be loud because children were supposed to be loud. If she made a mess, he would simply clean it with her instead of scolding her.
He made their home feel normal. And maybe that was why Y/N loved him so fiercely.
But even then, even with all the love her Abbu gave her, there was still a small part inside her that wanted her mother, wanted her love. The kind that came naturally to other children.
The kind of love Yalina receives so easily from her mother. Y/N had seen her being pulled into random hugs, getting kissed on the forehead while talking, being scolded lovingly and then fed five minutes later like nothing happened. The warmth between them looked so normal, that sometimes Y/N found herself staring at it like how she used to stare at the moon.... with longing.
Her mother did not hate her. She would never hate her. Y/N knew that much. The problem was never the absence of love, it was the way that love had changed over the years until it became impossible to recognize.
Her mother cared deeply about her, maybe too deeply. All of her strictness came from a place that believed it was protecting her, shaping her into someone respectable and perfect enough for this harsh and unforgiving world. She wanted Y/N to grow into someone perfect enough to never be judged, never be hurt, never be looked down upon.
But affection becomes confusing when the same hands that once fixed your hair are also the ones constantly trying to fix you like you’re something and not someone. And love expressed like that feels cold, even when it is sincere. And perhaps thats what happened between them.
But still, there were some rare moments, when her mother’s love showed quietly.
She remembered one particular winter when she had fallen terribly sick with a high fever. The kind that leaves your body weak and your thoughts hazy. For days she drifted back and forth from sleep, the faint smell of medicines going strong with every time. She remembered waking at random hours only to find her mother sitting beside her with tired eyes, and messy hair.
Sometimes she would be changing the cold cloth on Y/N’s forehead, sometimes checking her temperature every few minutes after giving her medicine and looking offended by the results everytime “Itni mehngi dawaiya hai toh asar bhi jaldi karna chahiye na.” Y/N had almost laughed.
But her favorite was the moment when her mother thought she was asleep. And she would gently move her fingers through Y/N’s hair, untangling strands carefully, almost absentmindedly. She would mumble little prayers under her breath, mixed with soft complaints to God and affectionate words she never used during regular days.
Her voice sounded so unrecogniseable. Less like a Mother and more like her Ammi.
And in those moments, Y/N felt something she spent most of her life craving. Her Ammi’s love. It was such a precious feeling that a selfish part of her wished to stay sick a little longer, just to experience this for a while more. Because in those fragile midnight hours, she was not a project that needed perfection, she was simply someone’s child.
Y/N had been sitting outside the ward for so long that the white hospital walls had started making her feel claustrophobic. Her fingers absentmindedly twisted the corner of her sleeve while her thoughts kept jumping to different places, mostly horrible.
Then she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She looked up, and there stood Yalina holding out a paper cup towards her “Yeh le H2O consume kar le. Acha lagega” she joked as she sat down beside her best friend, already knowing exactly what was going on inside her head. And honestly, Y/N hated how easily Yalina could read her, like an open book thrown carelessly on a table.
“Vo uth gaya hai, jaa mil le ek baar.” Yalina said softly, untying the knot that had been tightening in Y/N’s chest for hours. Relief rushed through her so quickly that she sprang to her feet immediately, only for her body to remind her that surviving on terrible eating habits and chronic iron deficiency had consequences. Her vision blurred and the world swayed.
But fortunately, Yalina caught her before gravity could embrace her, with reflexes of someone who had been dealing with this exact brand of recklessness for years.
“Aaram se, Razia Sultana” she muttered, steadying her. “Bacche ka tho khayal karo, bataya na iske Abba bilkul theek hain.”
Y/N’s eyes widened in absolute horror. “YALINA!” she whisper-yelled, scandalized. “Accha, theek hai, theek hai” Yalina said, completely unapologetic. A shameless grin spread across her face as she gently nudged her towards the ward. “Jaa ab. Aur andar jaake ladne mat lag jana. Hamza dawaiyan lene gaya hai, main uske saath aati hoon.”
Y/N ignored her completely and hurried towards the ward, her sandals tapping softly against the freshly mopped floor. The moment she stepped inside, the expected atmosphere wrapped around her instantly, the constant beeping of machines blending with the low murmurs of patients and nurses. The sharp scent of antiseptic lingering in the air, a smell that makes a place feel cleaner and serious at the same time.
The moment she stepped inside, her eyes immediately found him. Uzair Baloch. Very much awake, very much energetic, and unfortunately very much committed to being a menace.
Because instead of resting quietly like any reasonable injured person would, he was sitting upright on the hospital bed, arguing with the doctor with consuming passion. Meanwhile the poor doctor looked one second away from signing his resignation letter.
“Main keh raha hoon mujhe yeh nahi chahiye, hatao isse” Uzair argued, pointing accusingly at the IV attached to his left hand. “Sir, usme dawaiyan hain, zeher nahi” the doctor replied with remarkable patience, explaining it for what sounded like the hundredth time.
“Farq kya hai? Dono zabardasti hi diye jaate hain.” Uzair shot back immediately. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Uzair beat him to it. “Nahi, aap chup rahiye, aur uss injection ko bhi yahan se leke jaiye.” The doctor simply stood there, closing his eyes briefly, maybe regretting the day he decided to become a doctor.
Y/N stopped in her tracks, taking a moment to process the scene before her. Just two hours ago this man had been unconscious, and now he had enough energy to bully a medical professional. Honestly, it was almost impressive.
“Dekhiye sir yeh injection zaruri hai” the exhausted doctor explained patiently, summoning what was likely the last remains of his composure. “Iske baad aap ghar ja sakte hain.”
“Dekhna dikhana baad mein, maine mana kar diya na. Bas!” Uzair dismissed him immediately, genuinely looking offended by the very concept of syringes. The doctor inhaled slowly, maybe regretting the day he chose this profession.
Y/N raised her eyebrows. Maybe getting hit on the head with a metal frame had made him loosened a few screws. Without thinking much, she quickly walked closer to the bed. “Agar unhone kaha hai ki zaruri hai, toh lagva lo na.” she said softly as she came to stand beside him.
Uzair turned at the sound of her voice immediately, his entire expression changed. The irritation that had been directed at the doctor, the injection, and perhaps the treatment as a whole, eased slightly. For a brief moment, he simply looked at her, smiling like an idiot, forgetting everything.
Meanwhile, the doctor looked at Y/N the same way exhausted students looked at their wrist watches during maths classes.
“Exactly! Aap hi samjhaiye inhe” the doctor said to her, as though she had descended from the heavens specifically to answer his prayers. “Mujhe samjhane ki zarurat nahi hai.” Uzair frowned like a stubborn child.
“Phir injection kyun nahi lagvate?” Y/N asked innocently. Then, tilting her head slightly she added “Darr lag raha hai?” The room fell silent for a moment, the doctor immediately looked down, pretending to check Uzair’s file to hide his very obvious smile.
“Mujhe darr nahi lag raha.” Uzair stated in complete disbelief. “Oh.” Y/N nodded thoughtfully. “Toh phir bachon ki tarah zid kyu kar rahe ho?”
“Main zid nahi kar raha.”
The doctor coughed loudly to disguise what was very clearly a laugh. Breaking the chain of their banter.
“Ab drama band karo aur doctor ki baat mano, okay?” Y/N said, folding her arms across her chest. “Drama main kar raha hoon?” Uzair repeated, sounding genuinely offended by the accusation. But despite that Y/N simply nodded “Hospital mein doctor se behes kar rahe ho jaise woh tumhe zeher dene aaye hain. Yeh drama nahi toh kya hai?”
“Bilkul” The doctor nodded in agreement. “Doctor sahab, aap chup rahein” Uzair said without even looking at him, making the poor man look insignificant, that too in a hospital.
Y/N had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling at his antics. Just a short while ago, she had been sitting outside with her heart lodged somewhere in her throat due to guilt and sadness. And now seeing him awake, that alone made everything feel lighter.
Her gaze drifted towards the injection tray beside the bed. The sight of the needle making her grimace internally before she looked back at him. But this time, there was no amusement in her expression. “Please lagva lo” she said quietly, making the stubbornness in Uzair’s face faltered just slightly.
Y/N lowered her eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze again “Agar tum dobara behosh ho gaye toh mujhe bahut bura lagega.” she countinued softly, a small crease forming between her brows. “Waise hi meri wajah se tum hospital tak poch gaye, ab aur kuch nahi please” she completed honestly, her words dusted with pure guilt, and Uzair seemed to notice it too.
For the first time since this ridiculous argument had begun, Uzair actually looked at her properly. And suddenly he noticed the faint redness lingering in her eyes, the exhaustion etched across her face, and the guilt she was carrying like an invisible weight on her shoulders.
Uzair knew right then and there, that had already lost the argument.
He stared at her for a moment before the corners of his lips slowly curved upward into a smile. A seemingly harmless smile, which immediately made Y/N suspicious. Because experience had taught her that such smiles usually meant trouble was approaching at alarming speed.
“Theek hai. Tum keh rahi ho toh lagva lunga.” he said at last, sounding reasonable for a second. The doctor visibly deflated with relief, until Uzair added further “Par mera haath pakad kar baithna hoga.”
Y/N blinked in genuine shock “Kyu? Tumhe injection se itna zada darr lagta hai kya?” Honestly, she expected him to deny it immediately, like he did five minutes ago. Instead, this fully grown, allegedly dangerous man gave her the most shameless childish nod imaginable. “Haan.”
Y/N stared at him. Then stared some more.
“Tum jhoot bol rahe ho na”
“Tumhe injection se darr nahi lagta.”
Uzair looked offended. Deeply offended “Main itna imaandaar aadmi hoon aur tum mujh par shaq kar rahi ho? Sach mein insaniyat mar chuki hai.”
Y/N stared at Uzair in complete disbelief, depressing her urge to smack him on the head. For one glorious moment, she seriously considered refusing and walking straight out of the room, because this was absurd.
This man would have definitely fought armed people, and walk around looking intimidating enough to scare half the city, but apparently a tiny injection was where he drew the line.
"Kitne dramabaaz ho tum" she muttered under her breath. But instead of being offended, he looked extremely pleased with himself. While the poor doctor stood in the same spot, holding the injection like an exhausted school teacher waiting for two troublesome students to finish their argument.
Y/N looked at the doctor, then at the injection, and then back at the doctor, the man looked tired.... both physically and metaphysically. Y/N felt bad for him and with a long, defeated sigh of someone accepting a fate she wanted no part in “Theek hai” she grumbled, stepping closer to the bed “Jaldi karo.”
The doctor actually looked emotional and thankful for her sacrifice. Uzair however did not waste a second, and immediately placed his hand in hers and annoyingly enough his grip tightened slightly the second the doctor moved closer.
Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Tumhara toh main muh todd dungi.”
“Kyu? Tumhe mera chehra pyara nahi laga?” he replied casually.
Y/N slowly turned towards Uzair, looking him in the eyes. The expression on her face suggested several violent thoughts had just crossed her mind.
“Injection lagne do, phir batati hoon kitna pyara laga.” she said sweetly, but Uzair seemed completely unbothered by the threat to his life. In fact, he looked encouraged by it.
“Sir bas halka sa chubhega” the doctor warned and Uzair immediately pouted and squeezed her hand tighter making Y/N to glare at him with enough heat to melt concrete “Tum kitne besharam ho?!”
“Jisne ki sharam uske foote karam.”
The doctor finally plunged the injection into the crook of his elbow. And the funniest part? Uzair didn’t even look uncomfortable let alone scared. Not even a little. What an absolute liar!
“Abhi tak tho tumhe injection se darr lag raha tha?”
“Asa hain kya, pata nahi.”
He was lying, and judging by the smug satisfaction in his expression, he was extremely proud of it too. But fortunately for him, he looked far too endearing at that moment for Y/N to seriously consider carrying out the murder she was mentally planning.
“Lijiye, ho gaya.” the doctor said and Y/N immediately tried to pull her hand back. But Uzair still didn’t let go. She looked down at their still intertwined hands, then back at him. The audacity of this man will definitely get him murdered by Y/N one day, and the day doesn’t seem much far.
“Injection lag gaya, ab haath chhodo.” she informed him patiently like a good human she is, with patience she doesn’t have.
“Recovery mein time lagta hai” Uzair replied with an innocent face. With not even a single ounce of hint of shame.
Y/N opened her mouth to argue. But before she could say something, another hand appeared out of nowhere. And before either of them could register what’s happening, Y/N’s hand was smoothly removed from Uzair’s grasp and replaced with a very large, very masculine, and very much not Y/N’s hand.
“Apne dost ka haath pakdoge toh zyada jaldi recovery hogi bhai.” Yalina’s cheerful voice rang through the room, who had just pulled out Y/N’s hand and replaced it with Hamza.
Uzair frowned and looked at best friend, now sitting beside him with the brightest smile imaginable, their hands clasped together with alarming sincerity. Then Hamza squeezed his hand affectionately. “Bhai. Main hoon na.”
Uzair reacted as if he had accidentally touched fire, and snatched his hand away immediately, making Hamza pout like a heartbroken puppy.
“Tune tho kha tha yeh dosti hum nahi todenge”
“Dekho Yalina, meri dosti ki qadar hi nahi isse.” Hamza said dramatically. “Very toxic friendship” Yalina nodded in sympathy.
The laugh, the doctor had been fighting for the last fifteen minutes finally won. But the moment he noticed everyone looking at him, he cleared his throat “Main.... uh.... rounds par jata hoon.” And with that he practically fled the room.
After what felt like a lifetime of instructions, signatures, and at least three different nurses reminding him not to do anything strenuous, Uzair was finally discharged.
The doctor had given him one last warning before letting him go “Rest kijiyega.” Uzair had nodded obediently, making the doctor look relieved, but everyone else knew he was lying.
The evening air outside the hospital felt fresh after hours spent indoors. The group slowly made their way towards the parking area, Yalina and Y/N walking ahead while discussing something important enough to involve dramatic hand gestures. Every now and then Y/N would glance back at Uzair to check if he was healthily walking or swaying like a kite. And Uzair noticed every single time.
Meanwhile, Hamza was walking beside him with his hands in his pockets, looking far too relaxed now. For a few moments nobody said anything, then Uzair leaned slightly closer.
“Tu Yalina ke saath jayega na?”
Hamza slowed his pace, eyes swinging from him to the two girls.
Uzair frowned hard, making Hamza genuinely confused now. “Hum dono ek gaadi mein aaye hain. Teri abhi abhi hospital se chhutti hui hai. Aisi haalat mein tujhe chhod ke thodi na jaunga. Bhondhu hai, par bhai hai tu mera.”
Uzair squinted his eyes at him in irritation then rolled them with an exaggerated falir, looking away too casually.
“Main bilkul theek hoon.”
“Tu hospital ke bed pe 2 ghante behosh pada tha.”
They continued walking and more importantly, continued arguing. Every few steps one of them would throw another comment, while the other would fire back.... and the cycle would start all over again. But whenever the girls would glance back, both of them would immediately shoot them identical tooty grins.
Hamza still hadn’t understood what Uzair was trying to say indirectly so he tried again.
“Waise phir Yalina ko ghar kon chhodega?”
“Y/N hai na saath. Vo dono saath hi aaye the mall bhi Y/N ki gaadi se.”
“Haan toh?” Uzair questioned deliberately.
“Haan toh kya? Ab bhi vo dono sath hi jayangi, simple.”
For the first time, genuine frustration appeared on Uzair’s face. How could a man be this stupid? (He forgot to look in the mirror🫠)
Meanwhile, several feet ahead, Y/N was enthusiastically explaining to Yalina why hospital tea should legally qualify as a non poisonous poison.
Hamza followed his gaze, and suddenly everything clicked. The realization hit him so hard he actually stopped walking. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
Uzair immediately looked away, a little shy, suddenly finding the pathway far more interesting. His ears turing a faint shade of baby pink.
“Dheere bol nahi tho chup hoja.”
“Ab samjha ke patient ko ghar kaise jaana hai.” Hamza lowered his voice by a few decibels, trying to be discreet, but the sheer delight on his face completely ruined the effort. “Patient ko emotional support chahiye, vo bhi hamari hone vali bhabhi se.”
At that, Uzair seriously considered pushing Hamza off the nearest building and personally ensuring he landed right back in the same hospital bed he had just vacated. The thought was surprisingly appealing. Fortunately for Hamza and for his overall life expectancy— he finally stopped acting like an overexcited gossiper aunty and started talking business instead.
“Haan Uzair. Main Yalina ka sath jaunga. Lekin badle mein—”
Uzair closed his eyes. There it was. The condition.
“Parso ki chhutti chahi—.”
Hamza blinked in suprise. “Main ne poori baat bhi nahi ki.”
“Yaar tere liye kuch bhi.”
Hamza stared at him. Then slowly looked towards Y/N. And finally burst out laughing.
“Yaar tu tho pura aashiq bann gaya.”
“Tho kya? Rehman bhai se sikha hai! Tu bhi tho Yalina ke kadmo mein leta reheta hai, maina tho kuch nhi kaha.”
Ahead of them, completely unaware that she had just become the reason for the fastest approved leave request in history, Y/N was now passionately planning for a club night.
The parking lot was so much quieter than the hospital buliding. A cool evening breeze moving through the rows of parked cars, the evening sun casting shadows across the pavement.
Y/N unlocked her car with a click and settled on the driver’s seat. Yalina reached for the passenger door but unfortunately for the girls, Hamza had plans. The moment Yalina touched the car handle, he appeared out of nowhere and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her towards himself.
Yalina looked up in confusion “what?”
Hamza smiled so innocently that it should have immediately became suspicious, but poor Yalina is deeply in love for suspicion to knock at her door as the first thought. “Main soch raha tha, aaj poora din hospital mein nikal gaya. Humne acche se waqt hi nahi bitaya.”
Yalina’s expression softened instantly.
“Par ab sab theek hai” Hamza continued smoothly. “Toh maine socha main tumhe ghar drop kar deta hoon. Isi bahane thoda waqt bhi mil jayega.” The smile that appeared on Yalina’s face could have outshine the sun.
Y/N watched the interaction and immediately looked away, scrunching her nose in disgust. Some people around her were too much in love. It was embarrassing.
“Khayal tho accha hai....” Yalina admitted. Then took a long pause. “Lekin Hamza…”
“Phir Uzair bhai kaise jayenge?” she mumbled, making her man sigh internally. Of course she would think about that, he knew it beforehand. “Aise haalat mein unhe akele chhodna bhi acha nahi lagta” Yalina admitted sincerely. “Hum kal mil lenge na. Pkka.” For a second Hamza almost admired how genuinely sweet she was, and how lucky he is.
Then he remembered his mission.
Immediately he looked towards Y/N as if a brilliant solution had just occurred to him at that exact moment, and he had not mentally rehearsed it ten times.
“Aree!” he exclaimed dramatically. Making Y/N to narrow her eyes, that tone didn’t sound like anything good. “Meri eklauti, pyari, dil ki azeez saali sahiba bhi toh yahin hain.” Y/N physically recoiled further into her seat, not trusting that overly sweet tone of her bestfriend’s poor life decision she definitely took during her ovulation— that is Hamza.
“Tumhare muh se itna pyaare sabdh sunkar mujhe darr lag raha hai.”
Hamza simply ignored her.
“Y/N Uzair ko drop kar degi.”
Y/N stared at him in shock. Hamza stared at Y/N with a smile.
The absolute audacity of this baalo ki dukaan. Y/N slowly turned her head towards the actual source of the problem— Uzair.
Who immediately began whistling a very fake whistle, looking around the parking and pretending not to hear a conversation happening directly in front of him, as if he had absolutely no idea what was being discussed.
Y/N just glared at him, and then glared harder.
“Hamza vo tumhara dost hai, toh tum drop karo. Yalina ko kal drop kar dena.”
“Main drama nahi, pyaar kar raha hu.”
He was absolutely doing drama and Y/N is definitely not falling for it. But then came the final attack.
Hamza literally clasped both hands together and looked at her with the expression of a starving orphan asking for your last piece of roti.
“Chup karo, aur ghar jao.”
“Main gaadi chala ke chali jaungi. Vo bhi tumhare upar.”
That cracked her composure and Y/N groaned loudly, and made the mistake of looking towards Yalina who just gave her a weak smile, and did that cute face to make her say yes.
Y/N looked towards the heavens for help, and found none. So finally she sighed the sigh of a woman abandoned by both God and her best friend and said “Theek hai.”
Hamza’s face lit up immediately. And Uzair casually stopped whistling, like he hadn’t been praying to God for that answer.
“Ab jao apne bimar dost ko bolo aakar gaadi mein baithe.”
“Allah tumhe khush rakhe.”
“Aur Allah kare, Jamali uncle tumhe Yalina ke room main jaldi pakade.”
Ignoring that completely, Hamza immediately turned around and called Uzair. “Uzair.... Y/N tujhe drop kar degi. Tujhe koi pareshani toh nahi?” Hamza asked with a straight face. “Main Yalina ke saath ja raha hoon.”
The mili bhagat (performance) of these two really deserved an award.
Uzair nodded quickly like an obedient schoolboy being told there would be no homework today. “Nahi, koi pareshani nahi.” Y/N rolled her eyes. This man had argued with a doctor over an injection but suddenly had no objections here. Very interesting.
Without wasting another second, Uzair settled into the passenger seat with surprising ease, adjusting himself carefully because of the injury but looking altogether too pleased for someone who had spent the afternoon unconscious.
Y/N noticed, but chose to look away, suppressing her urge to say something rude.
Meanwhile, now settled into the passenger seat of the other car Yalina crossed her arms and stared directly at Hamza “Yeh tum dono ka plan tha na?”
Hamza laughed nervously, genuine panic flashing across his face, immediately turning his survival mode on. “Aree meri jaan, tum bhi na. Chalo! Chalo! Chalo!” he said quickly, turning the ignition on “Tumhe ek bohot badiya jagah le chalta hoon.”
“Radio pe tumhara favourite gaana bhi laga deta hoon.”
Yalina just stared in frustration, already knowing the answer. But unfortunately for her, this stupid man belongs to her own self.
“Ab chaloge bhi” she hissed in irritation and within seconds the car was moving. And back in the other car, Y/N too started the engine. And pointed a finger toward Uzair Baloch.
“You! Ek shabd bhi mat bolna.”
“Phir raasta kaisa bataunga.” a smile threatening to appear on his face.
“Uske alawa ek shabd mat bolna” And he just nooded.
The drive began in surprising silence. Not the awkward kind that demanded words nor the uncomfortable kind that needed to be filled, just a quiet that settles between two people who do have things to say but don’t know where to begin.
Outside, the city was slowly slipping into evening. The setting sun washed the roads in soft shades of gold, while long shadows stretched lazily across buildings, passing cars, and crowded streets. Wrapping the world in the warm glow that always arrived just before dusk.
Y/N kept her eyes on the road, both hands on the steering wheel as she carefully navigated through traffic. Or at least that was what she was trying to do, because there was a problem sitting in the passenger seat.
A problem who, for some unknown reasons, had decided that staring at her was an appropriate use of time.
At first she ignored it, then she pretended not to notice at all. Then she tried to act dumb and nonchalantly checked the rear-view mirror multiple times, and somehow every single time Uzair was still looking at her.
After five whole minutes of enduring this nonsense, she finally spoke. “Ghoorna band karo Uzair it’s bad manners” she said while taking a right turn. “Bahar dekho, doobta suraj kitna khoobsurat lag raha hai.”
Uzair didn’t even bother to look out, his eyes remaining fixed on her as he replied in the calmest voice possible. “Pehli baat, ise ghoorna nahi.... niharna kehte hain.”
The last part made her glance at him in disbelief, a smug little smile playing on his lips “Tum kuch zyada hi bolne lage ho” she remarked, trying to sound unimpressed.
Her reaction earned a grin from him, that appeared slowly and made his eyes soften. “Aur dusri baat. Bahar ka nazara sach mein sundar hai. Par tumse zyada nahi.”
Y/N’s grip tightened slightly around the steering wheel, but she responded with an overly dramatic eye roll and kept her attention firmly on the road. “Bas faltu bakwaas kralo tumse.” There was absolutely no way she was going to let him know his words had gotten to her or had affected her.
But unfortunately her heart chose the other way. Until a moment ago, it had been behaving like a perfectly sensible organ, but suddenly it began to behave like an overexcited child after eating too much sugar, fluttering around for absolutely no reason.
She kept her eyes ahead, pretending to be deeply invested in traffic rules, and driving regulations. But none of that changed the fact, that she could still feel Uzair gazing at her.
“Mujhe takte takte aankhein nahi thakti tumhari?”
The question came out teasingly, and the moment it left her mouth Uzair looked genuinely surprised because it was the first time she had played along. Instead of threatening him, rolling her eyes, or changing the subject.
“Tum ijazat do toh— tumhe takte takte umar guzar doon.”
The answer should have made her laugh. Instead, something about the way he said it made her glance at him, with this strange softness— did he actually meant that?
The traffic signal ahead turned red, forcing her to stop the car.
The city around them continued moving. The motorcycles squeezing through gaps they had no business fitting through, vendors crossing the road carrying carts, and someone in the traffic was honking as if it were a personal hobby.
But inside the car, everything felt oddly still. Y/N turned slightly towards him, studying him with open curiosity now.
“Sach sach batana” she said. “Tum mujhse itni meethi meethi baatein kyun kar rahe ho? Tumhare irade kya hain?”
She expected a clever answer or a dramatic line. But Uzair didn’t even try to dodge the question.
“Kyuki aap achhi lagne lagi hain.” he said simply, directly, without hesitation.
Y/N immediately looked away and pretended to check the traffic light. Even though she knew it’s still red, but suddenly it seemed very important to confirm.
“Achhi toh sabko hi lagti hoon main. Ismein naya kya hai?” she said dismissively, trying very hard to sound unaffected. Trying and failing. Because the corner of her mouth kept threatening to smile.
“Sirf achhi nahi” he said quietly. “Mohabbat wali achhi lagti hain aap.”
Her heart literally missed a beat. Actually, scratch that. Her heart completely forgot its responsibilities of keeping her alive for a second.
“Aur irade kuch galat nahi hain. Bas aapse pyaar karne ke hain.” His voice remained calm and honest.
Y/N simply stared at him. For once, there was no clever comeback waiting on her tongue. Because nobody had ever said something like that to her so openly. Yes, she had gotten a million confessions till now, but none felt this genuine. And simple. People usually hid feelings behind games, hints, and endless confusion.
But he simply placed the truth between them as if this was the easiest thing in the world. Her heartbeat grew annoyingly louder. She couldn’t even pretend anymore that she doesn’t feel something because of him.
She had noticed that from the very first day. The entire disaster in the mall had happened because she had walked up to a very handsome stranger.
She won’t lie— she had always found him attractive, just physically. But for the first time, Y/N found herself noticing things she hadn’t paid attention to before.
The ease with which he smiles.
Even that infuriatingly cheeky grin that appeared every now and then.
Suddenly a car behind them honked loudly. Y/N blinked out of her daze and looked forward. “Signal green ho gaya” she announced unnecessarily. Y/N started the car, pretending the conversation they just had never happened. She pressed the accelerator and guided the car forward.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Then Y/N pointed towards the turn ahead.
“Aage jo modh aayega na, wahan utar jaana.” she said casually, keeping her eyes on the windshield.
The words hit much harder than they should have. Uzair’s expression changed almost immediately. The smile faded slightly. So she doesn’t like him at all.
“Theek hai” he said quietly. Then after a pause, he forced a small smile and added “Main aapko pareshan—”
“Wahan bohot acche golgappe milte hain.”
The sentence arrived so suddenly that Uzair stopped mid-thought.
“Agar golgappe khila kar number mangoge, toh shayad de doon.” she informed casually.
For one whole second, Uzair genuinely thought he had imagined it. Then he turned towards her so quickly that Y/N had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling. His face morphed into a mix a shocker and a surprise.
“Ek minute. Yeh dobara kahiye.”
“Aapne abhi jo kaha vo dobara kahiye na please.”
At his growing eagerness, she finally looked at him. The expression on his face was so openly hopeful, like a child who couldn’t believe he got the permission to go on a school picnic. She almost pulled his cheeks.
But instead she gave him the most made up irritated look possible.
“Mr. Uzair Baloch” she said, sounding like a strict school principal. “Mujhe golgappe khane ke liye poochiye.”
Uzair sat straighter immediately.
“Phir tameez se mera number mangiye.”
“Kyuki bina number maange main doongi nahi.”
“Aur agar kahin aur se tigdam laga kar nikalwaya na—”
She pointed a warning finger toward him.
“Toh police complaint kar dungi, vo bhi SP Aslam se. Phir bhagte rehna apni jaan bachate hue.”
Uzair looked deeply offended. “Aap mujhe criminal samajhti hain?”
Y/N gave him a side eye, followed by a sarcastic raise of her eyebrows as if trying to remind him of his work profession that she got to know about through Yalina.
Y/N nodded with satisfaction and took the turn towards the golgappa stall.
Meanwhile, Uzair was still trying to process the fact that she had not rejected him. Instead she had practically handed him detailed instructions, like a user manual. She has given him a chance, so he could prove his love. And the fact only made him smile wider.
“Waise” he said after a moment.
“Aapke liya toh main khud golgappe wala ban jaun.”
That made her laugh, before she could even stop it. Bright and unfiltered. The one that makes her shoulders shake slightly.
And all Uzair could feel is how, the entire world suddenly felt much smaller than the girl laughing beside him.
Meanwhile Kilometres away from the golgappe stall, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different.
Hamza was holding a small glass globe with a miniature Taj Mahal resting inside it. And with an unnecessarily proud smile, he placed it in Yalina’s hands, and added “Ek din tumhare liye bhi main Taj Mahal jaisa ghar banaunga.” Yalina looked at the tiny monument. Then she slowly looked around the place— Hamza’s apartment.
One corner was occupied by unfolded laundry.
A chair had somehow become a permanent wardrobe, with multiple clothes and items piled up on it.
Three chai cups sat on the table as if they do not have a specific place to be— the sink.
A lonely sock rested on top of the television, raising several questions in her mind.
Then she looked back at Hamza with complete seriousness.
The sarcasm flew over his head.
She aggressively tossed the glass globe back towards him. But Hamza somehow managed to catch it before it could have kissed the floor. “Pehle iss kabootar khaane ko toh insaanon ke rehne layak bana lo, phir Taj Mahal banana.”
Hamza looked around his apartment as if seeing it for the first time. “Arre itna bhi bura nahi hai.”
He was busy justifying his apartment’s condition when Yalina pointed towards the bed.
“Main pichli baar bol kar gayi thi na ki uss chadar ko badal lena.”
Hamza followed her finger, pointing towards his bedroom that was clearly visible from the hall. And then to the same bedsheet.
He smiled sheepishly. “vo thoda busy tha.”
“Busy?” Yalina repeated in disbelief. “Chadar badalne mein paanch minute lagte hain bas.”
Yalina sighed in irritation and stared at him.“Main sach mein soch rahi thi tum mujhe kahin romantic jagah le jaoge. Aur tum mujhe yahan le aaye.” She spread both arms dramatically. “Is archaeological site pe. Jha kuch bhi dhundhne main saalo lag jaaye.”
Hamza laughed as he walked over to her, and wrapped one arm around the nape of her neck affectionately. “Achha baba” he said softly. “Chadar baad mein badal lunga.”
Then his arm slipped down to wrap around her waist.
“Pehle apni jaan ka mood badalte hain.”
Before Yalina could ask what that meant, the ground disappeared beneath her feet.
He had effortlessly thrown her over his shoulder. She let out a startled yelp that quickly dissolved into uncontrollable giggles.
“Yeh mera ghar hai. Aur yaha sirf hum dono hain.”
Ignoring every protest, Hamza walked towards the bedroom carrying her as though she weighed nothing at all. He finally placed her gently on the bed before stepping away with an expression that looked far too mischievous to trust.
Yalina narrowed her eyes at him “Kya kar rahe ho?”
Instead, he walked to the window, pulled the curtains shut dramatically.... and switched on the old radio sitting on the side table.
Static crackled for a second, then music filled the room.
Tu premi.. aaha.. main premi.. aaha.. Tu raazi.. aaha.. main raazi.. aaha.. Phir kya Daddy, kya Amma.
Hamza turned around with a grin so wide it was impossible not to smile back. And without an ounce of shame, he pointed dramatically at Yalina and began singing along.
Ek bas tu hi pyaar ke kaabil.. Saara jahaan hai nikamma!
He wasn’t even singing in tune, because he didn’t know the lyrics properly. Yet he performed with the confidence of someone headlining a sold-out concert.
Yalina genuinely tried to stay annoyed. But failed miserably and burst into laughter. The one where you almost bent in half and your stomach hurts.
“Tum bilkul pagal ho” she shouted over the music.
“Aao dance karte hai sath main”
She rolled her eyes affectionately.
“Tumhare saath rehkar main bhi pagal ho jaungi.”
“Phale se hi ho, islea tho mujhe haa ki.”
She took his hand anyway.
Within seconds, both of them were dancing terribly around the tiny bedroom, laughing harder than they were singing.
Tamma tamma loge.. Tamma tamma loge tamma.. Tamma tamma loge.. Tamma tamma loge tamma..
Neither of them knew the choreography. And neither of them cared.
The apartment was still messy. The bedsheet still needed changing. The laundry was still waiting.
Nothing had really changed.
And yet, somehow it suddenly felt perfect.
People often say that home wasn’t a place. It was a person. Maybe they’re right and for Yalina, that person is Hamza— that person will always be Hamza.
No matter how untidy his apartment is, how ridiculous his plans turned out to be, or how many times he forgets to change the bedsheet. The moment she was with him, every place somehow felt like home.
Taglist! (DM to be removed or added from the taglist! AND I REALLY MEAN IT— IF SOMEONE DOESN’T WANNA BE TAGGED THEN PLEASE LET ME KNOW BECAUSE I GENUINELY DON’T WANT TO BOTHER ANYONE.)
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