#donga

Y/n was a carefree girl—lighthearted in the way she moved through life, as if the world’s weight had never learned how to settle on her shoulders. She laughed easily, spoke without overthinking, and carried a kind of softness that made everything around her feel a little less serious. She chose to live in the moment, chasing small joys the way sunlight chases morning mist. She’d been on a girl’s day out with her two best friends Asna, and Zoya who was also her cousin. The three of them were blasting music, singing off key as Y/n drove. Zoya was in the passenger’s seat while Asna was in the back.

“Y/n, dare or dare?” Asna said leaning closer between the two seats. The girl rolled her eyes, before choosing dare. They’d been doing this the whole day, giving each other stupid dares.

“Uhmm oh look at that,” Zoya pointed into the distance, where a jeep was pulled over on the side of the road, its bonnet propped open. A tall man hovered over the engine, shoulders bent as if he were trying to figure out what had gone wrong. It looked like the jeep had broken down.. “Cat call him!”

“What the fuck?” Y/n and Asna exclaimed at the same time but the other girl grinned evilly.

“A dare’s a dare!” She replied nonchalantly and Y/n braced herself to actually do it. She slowed the car and pulled up beside the jeep, the road was deserted which made her feel braver.

“Hum kahin chor dein janeman?” Y/n called out from the window, perfectly imitating the sleazes she’d encountered before. The other two girls snickered but their faces dropped the second the man stood up straighter and turned to them.

It was Uzair Baloch. Right hand man of Rehman Baloch and the sworn enemy of her uncle Arshad pappu. Her breath hitched in her throat and before he could say anything she slammed her foot on the accelerator, leaving him behind in the rear-view mirror. Uzair stood there utterly confused as he tried to comprehend what just happened, even his confused state, he managed to note the number plate.

“Humne kuch nahi kiya! Phuppa ko kuch nahi batana!” She glared at her cousin, who was shaking in her seat.

“Mai kya nahi bataungi abba ko khud pata chal jaega! Offo isko bhi Uzair Baloch nikalna tha!” Zoya said biting her nails anxiously.

“Isi liye mai tum dono ko kehti hu Arshad uncle ke naam py itna mat uchla karo!” Asna commented from the back earning sharp glares from both the girls.

“Tu toh chup kar yaar!”

A week had passed since that incident but Y/n and Zoya were safe of Arshad’s wrath that meant either he didn’t find out or he didn’t care. Meanwhile Uzair had asked Donga to find out the owner of the car. He vividly remembered the girl sitting behind the wheel, for a good second he thought he had died in a car accident and reached heaven because she looked like an angel. He could barely focus on what she was saying as he was too focused on her soft, petal like lips. But he had heard her catcall him. He was baffled but curious at the same time.

“Bhai. y/n naam ki ladki ki gadi hai. Arshad pappu ke sale ki beti hai.” Uzair listened intently and paused when he heard his rivals name but did that deter him from going after her—no, it made him want her even more. The forbidden fruit is always exciting to chase.

The next morning Uzair got dressed in his best pathani, sprayed himself with oud and ruffled his hair messily. Donga had told him y/n doesn’t have a job but she every morning and evening she feeds the street dogs outside the Lyari hospital. When he arrived there she was already surrounded by a bunch of dogs drooling and wagging their tails at her. She giggled loudly, pouring food into their bowls, that she’d placed there months ago.

“Suniye!” Uzair called out and she stood up with a smile but froze when she recognised him.

“Dekhiye uss din mujhse galti hogyi thi aap mujhe maaf karde aur ye kissa yahin khatam karde.” She rambled fiddling with the kibble in her hands. He shook his head and tried moving closer to talk better but she held her hand out. “Paas mat aiyega! Warna main inlogo ko keh dungi aap py hamla karde!” Uzair froze in his tracks, he dealt with blood, guns and pain, he could take it all but being chased by a bunch of feral dogs— nah he’ll pass.

“Dekhiye mujhe sirf baat karni hai.” Uzair raised his hands in surrender. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously but then relented. She walked closer to him and he sighed in relief. “Main apse koi badla lene nahi aya hoon. Main wo…wo main..” he stuttered, she raised her brow at him. “Mujhe aap bohot acchi lagti hain!”

“KYA?” She exclaimed loudly, the dogs raised their heads from the bowl waiting for an order but she cooed at them, urging them to go back to their food. “Ye kya keh rahe hain aap?

“Sach keh raha hoon. Jabse maine apko dekha hai mere dil, dimag, aankho me aap bas gayin hai! Jaagte me dikhti hai, sotey me khwabon me ajati hain.”

“Aap ko shayad pata nahi main-”

“Pata hai! Arshad pappu apka phuppa hai, lekin agar apka baap bhi hota to mujhe farak nahin padhta. Mujhe aap acchi lagti hain.” Uzair said bravely. He really didn’t care if she was Arshad pappu’s relative, or she was a Pathan and not Baloch. All he knew that he wanted her and he’d do anything to have her.

“Dekhein Uzair b-”

“Nahi!” He exclaimed. “Bhai nahi bolna!” She was amused by his insistence. “Dekhiye apke abbu iss hospital me doctor hain na?” He asked and she nodded her head. “Aur ye hospital Rehman bhai ka hai agar iss chiz py Arshad ko koi masla nahi hai toh humare rishte se bhi nahi hoga.” Uzair had already made up his mind and there was no stopping him.

And that’s how life had become for Y/n for the next few weeks. She found Uzair wherever she went, calling her at random times. He kept sending her flowers, followed her like a lovesick fool and even befriended her four legged friends. He bought tons of kibble to bribe them. Everyday when Y/n arrived there, she would already find him there and the dogs surrounded him as his fans.

“Ab to in logon ne bhi mujhe apna maan liya hai, aap hi berukhi dikha rahi hain!” Uzair commented standing up and she rolled her eyes affectionately. She would not lie and say she didn’t like him or the attention. She loved it, she loved being doted on by Uzair Baloch. She loved receiving random gifts everyday and the way he would call her every night, quoting him “because he wanted to hear her voice after a tiring day.”

“Aap nahi manengy na?” She asked with a soft smile gracing her lip and he shook his head cheekily. “Theek hai!” She gave in and he beamed, feeling the happiest man alive. “Lekin, phuppa ne agar oppose kiya to aap nipatna!”

“Jo hukum meri jaan jaisa aap bole.” She blushed profusely when he called her ‘meri jaan’. “Chalen?” He asked and she looked at him in confusion.

“Kahan?”

“Date py.” He said taking her hand and pulling her towards his jeep.

Months passed, and somehow, they only fell deeper. It wasn’t the kind of love that faded into routine, it grew into it, threading itself through every ordinary day until nothing felt ordinary anymore. They began to belong to each other in quiet, undeniable ways.

In the way his name lit up her screen and her heart answered before her hands did. In the way she could hear his smile through a simple call. In the way every place felt softer once he’d been there with her.

Love became everywhere.

Shared playlists. Shared sunsets. Shared warmth on long drives when the world outside the windows blurred into nothing, because the only thing that mattered was the closeness inside that car.

His hand found hers without thought. Her head found his shoulder like it was home.

Not just romance, but devotion.

The kind of love that made the future feel less frightening, because it finally had someone in it. They were already, completely, hopelessly in love.

“Uzair ab aapko Rehman bhai se baat kar leni chaiye!” She said one day as they both were the sunset point, sitting atop the bonnet of his jeep. Her back pressed against his chest. His arms rested loosely around her waist, warm and familiar, as though they had always belonged there. She leaned into him without thinking, fitting perfectly against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind her.

“Han karta hoon.” He said nodding his head but on the inside he was panicking. He remembered how Hamza and Donga had reprimanded him like a child for falling for a Pathan girl, that too Arshad Pappu’s relative.

‘Chutiya hai kya tu?!’ Hamza had said while smacking him on the head,

‘Uzair miyan apko phool konse pasand hai?’ Donga asked in all seriousness.

‘Kyun?’

‘Ab aapki qabar py chadhane aunga to kam se kam phool to apki pasnd ke hon kyuke ladki to apki nahi hone wali.’ He replied making Hamza snort and Uzair curse his entire bloodline.

After dropping Y/n home, Uzair dragged Hamza home with him. They were both standing outside Rehman’s study, bickering.

“Mai marna nahi chahta meri abhi shadi bhi nahi hui hai.” Hamza said trying to walk away but Uzair pulled him back.

“Teri nahi hui toh kya meri bhi nahi hone dega?! Bhai nahi hai mera?” Uzair said trying to emotional blackmail him.

“Haan to tu wo Farzana se shadi karega to mai karwa dunga. Wo Baloch hai!” Hamza retorted without missing a beat. “Tujhe uss pathan me dikhta kya hai?”

Before he could answer Ulfat appeared before them, she was looking for Rehman and the two were blocking the door to the study.

“Kya kar rahe ho tum dono?” She gave them a stern look as she could tell they were up to no good.

“Kuch na-“

“Bhabhi ye ek pathan ladki se pyaar karta hai, usse shadi karna chahta aur chahta hai main bhai se baat karoon.” Hamza blurted out before Uzair could finish. The long haired man’s words left the taller man frozen in place as his jaw fell to the floor, while Hamza smiled as if to say,

‘Mai to acha baccha hu ye apka devar pagal ho gaya hai’

“UZAIR?” Ulfat gasped as she registered Hamza’s word. The said man’s ears turned red as he stuttered to come up with an excuse but Hamza just had to make matters worse.

“Aur wo Arshad Pappu ke sale hi beti hai.”

“UZAIR???” Ulfat.exe had stopped working at this point. “Tum pagal ho gaye ho kya?”

“Naya kya hai bhabhi!” Hamza commented and Uzair had finally managed to come back to his sense.

“Tu goli khakar hi chup hoega kya?” Uzair threatened but Hamza didn’t even flinch. He was having the time of his life. “Bhabhi bhai ko manane me help kardo na please!” He turned to his sister in law, he was ready to get on his knees to beg.

“Nahi nahi!” Ulfat denied immediately, shaking her head. “Ye main nahi karskti.” Uzair gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, the kind that had worked an infinite number of times before. He even faked a sniffle, and that really sealed the deal, Ulfat gave in instantly.

“Zabardast! Chalo ab.” He said gently pulling her towards the study door but she pulled away.

“Nahi! Pehly main milungi usse!”

Y/n awkwardly stood in front of Ulfat while she was assessing her. Uzair stood beside her giving her heart eyes while Donga and Hamza enjoyed the show from the front row seats.

“Mujhe pasand hai!” Ulfat announced making Uzair and Y/n turn to each other excitedly. Ab Rehman ko kaise manaye!” She wondered out loud, Ulfat knew her husband would have no issue with Y/n once he meets her. She’s beautiful, carries herself with elegance and definitely loves Uzair more than anything but at the same time she knew the man would flip once he finds out about her ethnicity.

The five of them sat down and brainstormed ideas how to convince Rehman for this relationship. Convincing Y/n’s family was an issue too but they’d decided to tackle one hurdle at a time. And if they knew if Rehman would be on their side, no one would be able to intervene. While the four of them were busy coming with idea after another, Uzair was busy staring at Y/n like a smitten idiot.

“Hum kya yahan tere naukar hai jo apna dimag ghis rahe hain aur tu bhabhi to taade ja raha hai!” Hamza commented, glaring at his best friend.

“Jaa na.” Uzair brushed him off still admiring Y/n, who turned to face him and had the same idiotic smile on her face, he then brushed her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Tum dono ka romance hogaya ho toh mujhe ek idea aya aya!” Ulfat said sharply pulling them out of their romantic haze. So basically the idea was to call Y/n over to meet Rehman, have him like her, then get his word to get the two married. Everyone knows Rehman never goes back on his promises, so once he agrees, he’ll have no choice but to face the consequences afterwards.

Tags:

The crisp Lyari air fluttered through my hair as I pulled out my clutcher from the side of my kurti, to pin it up. It was one of those rare evenings where the Baloch Haveli was allowed peace of its own, for everyone’s laughter to ring through its corridors and high ceilings. 

The closest circle of Sardaar’s gang, sat huddled around the verandah of the Baloch Haveli each nursing a cup of chai and the famed chaand biscuits of Sikander Bakery. 

The kids, along with Ulfat Baaji had gone on a much-awaited visit for a few days to her parents in Karachi. With a mostly empty haveli left to Uzair and I’s devices, it surely allowed us some time to indulge ourselves, undisturbed.

Rehman Bhai’s presence acted like a constant warning in the back of our minds, but it did not stop the extra time we’d steal before Uzair had to leave and I would have to sneak back out of the Haveli.

This train of thought led my eyes to the man in question, who was already looking at me with a soft smile, but something glinting in those soft brown eyes, mischief? Need?

Before I could even raise a brow to ask Uzair, my reverie was broken with Donga’s boisterous laughter, “NO WAY! HOW DID YOU EVEN CAPTURE THAT MONSTROSITY? YOU WILLINGLY GAVE UP YOUR EYESIGHT JUST TO TAKE THAT PICTURE? WAAH YAAR, MAN’NA PADEGA TUJHE TOH SIYAHI!”

As I looked at the phone in Siyahi’s hand, a particularly disgusting picture of his ex, Shagufta and her current boyfriend, locked in a heated embrace, graced my eyesight, earning a look of pure hatred and disdain at the pair. The former, having cheated on Siyahi, had been on the receiving end of all of our collective side-eyes for the last couple of weeks.

Sure, Siyahi might have been busy with the factory work and running from Balochistan to Lyari constantly, but that didn’t give her an excuse to cheat now, did it?

“Bhai, yeh toh sahi ka downgrade hai, sachme yaar! Kya bakchod pictures leta hai par tu bhi, matlab Donge ko bhi competition de raha hai ab kya?” Hamza chuckled, as he touched upon the very topic Donga received the most criticism or love for, depending on who you asked. His love for photography was a much-debated topic in the youth of Lyari and particularly in our group. It wasn’t the scenery or stills of this city, but rather the strange and frankly, disturbing quirks and situations of people that he liked to capture.

His gallery consisted of people drooling literally, in the middle of spitting out blood after a fight, Akhlaaq mid-sneeze, Sajid’s unfiltered yearning for SP Aslam, whispered conversations between the helpers in the Haveli and so on. It was rarely endearing and mostly unsettling. 

“Nahi yaar, Donge ko koi nahi hara sakta, mai bata raha hu, shayad Y/N ya Faizal bhi nahi” Siyahi stated. That drew everyone’s attention into the conversation. “Kya matlab Y/N ya Faizal nahi hara sakte? Tu yeh bol raha hai ki mere bacche bhi yeh Donge ke sangat me aake aisa ajeeb ajeeb tasveere kheechne lagi hai?!” Rehman Bhai exclaimed comically.

This prompted the current situation, the gang, scrolling through their collections, showing each other pictures and videos we’d taken of the others sleeping, mid-screaming or simply embarrassing themselves.

Hamza sat next to me, looking through the folder in my gallery where I had taken photos of the gang mostly, unlike the other weirdos who shot (a/n: hehe) random people as well. As he scrolled past a particularly insane photo of Donga and Siyahi in a heated argument, that looked like they would kiss at any moment, he landed on a photo of Rehman Bhai staring daggers into the ledgers, trying to make sense of the entirely wrong calculations of one of the boys.

“Arre kya din tha Hamza voh, aisa lag raha tha ki ya toh book inhe kha jayegi, ya fir bhai book ko. Voh jo naya banda rakha tha na aapne, mai sahi bata rahi hu, na credit ka c jaanta hai na debit ka d. Isse achha toh aap Uzair ko hi karne dete bhai, mai bata rahi hu. Unse accha koi nhi karta finances.”

As I continued ranting, consciously trying to fluster Uzair while ensuring I don’t give us away too much, Hamza swiped to the last photo in the folder. A loud squeak left him, “Y/N??!! UZAIR??!!” 

I turned to tell him off for cutting my rant, and shit.

There sat, one of my best works, a picture of Uzair frickin Baloch, manspread, hair mussed, eyes glassy, and his kurta torn. His neck and chest- a true masterpiece from my ministrations from one of our shared evenings. Littered with dark and forming hickeys across the expanse of his shoulders, neck, pecs, and his abs, all prettily arranged, highlighted by the glow of the low lit lightbulbs across his room. 

Every single detail, his hazed lust-filled eyes, the tent of his pants with a dark patch on his thigh, his nose highlighted with remnants of the white powder, my bra hanging over the edge of the bed in the background, was so clearly on display to every single person there and all I heard was the sharp inhale Uzair took.

fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK (a/n: literally. I wish.)

“I- I can explain, I promise-” I squeaked out, turning to Rehman Bhai, “EXPLAIN? I THINK THIS PICTURE SPEAKS LOUD ENOUGH FOR BOTH YOU AND MY DEAR BROTHER DON’T YOU THINK??” He burst out. “Since when, Uzair?”

“Bhai, mai bata raha hu na, humein explain toh karne di jiye, plea-”

“KAB SE UZAIR? HUMEIN KAHA NHI GAYA KYA TUM DONO SE? EK BAAR BHI? ULFAT SE? HAMZE SE?”

“BHAI MAI USSE PYAAR KARTA HU, VOH MUJH SE KARTI HAI, HUM NIKKAH KARENGE BUT ABHI HUME THODA TIME CHAHIYE. HUM EK DUSRE KO JAAN RAHE HAI, PLEASE PARESHAN MAT HOIYE AUR ULFATBHABHISEBACHALENAPLSPLSPLS” He stopped to take a breath, when Hamza burst out laughing. “Chal Donga, paise nikal, mai jeet gaya, bola tha na, iss mahine toh kuch na kuch inke kaand nikal hi aayenge”

My head whipped around so fast, I wanted to smack this stupid ass over the head, “KYA?! TUMNE HUMPE SHART LAGAYI THI? HAMZE KE BACCHE RUK TU AB” as I got up to chase him through the verandah. Just as I was about to cross Uzair, his long arms pulled me flush down on his lap and held me in place with a strong grip around my waist. “Ruk jaao, jaana, isko toh hum saath me dekh lenge, pehle bhai se nipat le, fir bhabhi se bhi toh bachana hai inhe humko.” he whispered as he placed a kiss to the side of my head.

“Hmmph! Theek hai, jaan, magar pehla strike uss par mera” I whisper back with a kiss of my own to his forehead.

“Ho gya tumhara yeh chumma-chaati? Aur kitna jaanoge ek dusre ko ab, Uzair? Bhabhi ko aane do, tum dono ki toh khair nahi!” 

Dhun slept with guilt that night, tossing and turning at the image of Uzair clutching his stomach. Although the smell of the Baloch haveli was putrid — a direct consequence of her mixing laxatives — she couldn't help but feel sorry for Rehman bhai.

She should have gone to Rehman bhai and complained to him instead of making an impulsive decision. At least she was saved from having bullets in her fate.

The shop ran smoothly after the incident. No rumour of her being the mastermind behind the collapse of Rehman's gang in the washrooms spread, by Rehman's grace. Regulars came and left, and the scent of spices wafted throughout the shop while it bubbled hot in the kitchen with the cooking.

She paid the rent, the outstanding amount for inventory purchases, and the other bills that kept piling up on her desk. Rehman had returned her wasooli as well. She accepted it with a heavy heart, seeing Rehman ashamed of his cousin and his gang's actions of freeloading.

Despite Uzair's confession, Dhun's breath hitched and her heart skipped a beat at that confession replaying — she had acted indifferent and simply walked away with Omar on her tail, Rehman's gruff voice cajoling Uzair fading away, even though her heart had confessed back with its inconsistent thudding.

It was three days later when Uzair came to the shop. She almost missed their presence; it was muscle memory, autopilot, to peek from the kitchen and see a group of mountainous men calling her out, "Dhun ji!"

He looked like a nervous little puppy that had been kicked, scratching his neck with eyes downcast, stuttering and mumbling to himself.

She shook her head fondly, the annoyance for them dissipating into mere mist. "Milkshake chahiye? Julaab nahi milaya usme."

He barked out a laugh, hiding his face behind his palm nonchalantly, trying to conceal the smile that kept breaking through. A long silence passed between them. Uzair opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand and stopped him. "Kuch der mein shop band hogi. Tab baat karenge."

He nodded in understanding. "I will wait here then."

He stayed true to his word, waited until the customers left one by one and he was the only soul remaining. Dhun came out with a plate of steaming samosas and a milkshake, settling the plate in front of him wordlessly.

She took the seat opposite him. Suddenly, all the bravery and boldness that had caused her to nearly poison half of Rehman's gang evaporated into the air, and in its place remained a girl who had feelings for the gangster in front of her.

"Dhun ji… mujhe aapse maafi maangni hai — meri aur mere gang ki harkaton ke liye. Mera kabhi irada nahi tha ki main aapko chot pahunchaoon, main toh sapne mein bhi aisa soch nahi sakta. Mujhe uss din paise de dene chahiye the, lekin —"

"Uss mote ne woh baat keh di thi," she interrupted. "Pata hai. Tab main aapse paise maang bhi nahi sakti thi. Kuch din tak toh sab theek tha, lekin phir aur log Rehman bhai ka naam leke muft khana maangne lage. Aur Siyahi ne wasooli ke mamle mein bilkul bhi aankh band nahi ki. Mujhe roz zamindaar ke phone aane lage, aur mere chacha ke medical bills bhi aasman chhoo rahe the."

He looked ashamed, a red flush spreading across his face as he refused to meet her eyes. It certainly had taken a lot for her to get over it — the most being Rehman asking for her forgiveness and all those men suffering through the laxatives.

To be honest, she didn't regret the julaab idea. In fact, she loved it. She just felt a little guilty — mostly for Uzair and Hamza. The others could rot for all she cared. Especially Donga and Siyahi — they deserved it.

Oh, she missed the look on Donga's face after that. She could imagine him running rounds to the washroom and collapsing at the end. Siyahi must have regretted asking for that wasooli.

"Waise… shukriya. Aapne uss din mujhe Rehman bhai se bacha liya tha — even after jo aapne kiya," Dhun thanked.

Uzair waved it off. "Sach kahun toh… hum uske haqdaar the. Aapse muft mein khana khaate rahe."

"Haan, bilkul the," she deadpanned.

They didn't acknowledge the confession that had happened. It wasn't as if she chose to ignore it like it never happened. They simply lived without it lingering in the air. But something in the air did change after Uzair's apology.

Uzair frequently visited the shop — sometimes as a customer. Other times, he followed her like a puppy into the kitchen, towering over her unintentionally in the cramped space, leaning over her shoulder and watching with intense focus as she showed him how to make the best samosas without them looking like deformed momos.

"So you tuck the edges like that?" he asked, his breath warm against her neck. Thank god Omar was not present — some birthday party, he had claimed. The customers had all left hours ago. Why was she even teaching Uzair Baloch, the feared Baloch gangster, how to make sandwiches and samosas?

"Yeah, it gives that crispy edge. Also," she turned around, eyes narrowed. "Don't you have any work to do? You know, gangster work?"

"Aaj meri chutti hai, Rehman bhai ne mujhe chhutti di hai." No, he did not. He had a ton of work waiting for him, Rehman's wrath waiting at the entrance of the haveli with a Kalashnikov in hand.

Dhun knew it too — that Uzair deliberately lied about free time and buzzed around in her shop. Days turned into weeks. When he didn't come to the shop, it almost felt empty, as though something vital was missing from it.

Uzair's beard tickled the soft lobe of her ear, his presence much more domineering as she felt him impossibly close to her body. The warmth of their bodies mingled, hers fitting perfectly against Uzair's.

She closed her eyes, the dough lying forgotten on the countertop before her — she leaned back, resting her head against his chest while his lips found solace in her neck. His nose brushed the planes of her neck, watching her veins pulse, while his lips pressed soft, feather-light kisses when —

"Uzair bhai, Rehman bhai aapko bula rahe hain — AH MAINE KUCH NAHI DEKHA!" Donga crashed into the table, stumbling with his aviator glasses and turning away at the sight of Dhun and Uzair in the kitchen, the door of which was unfortunately open.

They immediately broke apart — Uzair crashing against the wall and reading the labels as if they made perfect sense, while Dhun began rolling out the dough, acting nonchalant with a huge blush on her face.

"Uh, kya hai?!" Uzair demanded.

"Rehman bhai aapko bula rahe hain… Unhe kuch chahiye tha. Lekin aap yahan busy hain —"

Dhun began coughing loudly.

"Haan, main aata hoon. Tu ja!" Uzair shooed him away, as though Donga were a nosy little cat. He stood there, embarrassed, red spreading across his face.

"Uh… Rehman bhai ko aapki zarurat hai," Dhun reminded him, with a shy smile. "Didn't you say Rehman bhai had given you a holiday?"

Uzair dashed out of the shop, Dhun's bright laughter fading into the distance as he rode off in his jeep — a sheepish smile on his face, the events replaying again and again until he turned impossibly red.

It was soon Hamza's wedding. Dhun had received the order to cater snacks for it, yet Hamza — the groom, the man of the hour — was stuck in the huge kitchen, wrapping samosa filling into the dough wrappers.

"Kamal hai, dulha main hoon, walima mera hai kuch ghanton mein, aur mere hi haath se kaam karva rahe hain," he muttered, shoving the potato stuffing in a little aggressively.

"Mera yaar hai tu, ek bhai ki help bhi nahi kar sakta?" Uzair persuaded, pulling the 'brother' card. "Dekho woh kitna kaam kar rahi hain. Dhun ji's shoulders must hurt."

Hamza's gaze darted toward Dhun, who was… indeed working very hard. At screaming orders at the workers. "SANDWICH AISI BANTI HAI? THEEK SE TOAST KAR!"

"Haan. Bohut mehnat kar rahi hai," Hamza deadpanned. Uzair nudged him, gesturing for him to cooperate.

If it weren't for the lingering guilt of eating free at Dhun's shop and the begrudging love he had for Uzair as a brother, he would not have volunteered.

"Hamza bhai, kya Yalina ji ko sandwich pasand hai? Main aapke haathon ka sandwich unhe khilaaungi," Dhun asked hamza, leaning over him from behind.

"Ji. Unhe pasand hai — theeka bhi ho toh kha leti hain," Hamza told her.

"Chalo, toh aap woh sandwich arrange kardo, main samosas dekh leti hoon." She left, barking orders at the other workers, leaving Hamza and Uzair dumfounded.

"Bhai yeh kya torture hai!" Hamza exclaimed.

"Hamze… dil hai woh mera, kuch waqt ke liye seh le —" Uzair pleaded, with puppy dog eyes.

"Bhaad mein jaaye teri friendship —"

"Friendship —"

"Haan, jo kuch bhi!"