La Wasa Ma Na Kazhi

── .✦

If someone asked Yalina, she would say you have a lot of weird habits. Nothing harmful, just stupid shit like deleting all your text messages at the end of the day, sending her flirty messages like a daarubaaz aashiq, and not saving people’s phone numbers, claiming your memory was sufficient.

It was a night like any other, you lost the Snake game on your mobile for the nth time and decided to harass Yalina.

Y/N: Lowkey jealous of the people who see u in person while im here staring at a screen. SO UNFAIR.

+92 XXXXX56789: Y/N mujhe sone do. Raat ke ek baj gayein hain.

Y/N: Raat ke nahi, subah ke. 

Y/N: Doodh me aati hai malai, subah ho gayi, uth jao meri rasmalai

+92 XXXXX56789: Maine apna number badalna hai. 

+92 XXXXX56789: Good night

You deleted her text, huffing to yourself. You put your arms behind your head and stared at your ceiling, before turning back over. You grabbed your phone, and sent her another message.

Y/N: Tum apne aap ko kabhi mera dost mat samajhna, kyunki um meri dost nahi ho… tum meri darling ho! 

No response. Annoyed, you texted her again.

Y/N: Ignore karogi toh ro dungi

Yalina usually texted within five minutes, but still no response. You rolled your eyes, wondering if she’d gone back to sleep when your phone lit up with a new message.

+92 XXXXX56798: Galat number. Phir text na karein.

You checked the number again and slapped a palm over your face. Yalina’s ended in 56789. This one was 56798. Your memory was starting to fail you.

Is this how it starts?The beginning of the end.

You sighed, replying to them.

Y/N: Sorry. 

But it was late and you weren’t in any mood to sleep. Yalina was asleep, but this person clearly wasn’t.

Y/N: Aap kaun ho?

+92 XXXXX56798: Tumhe nahi pata main kaun hu?

Y/N: Aap hi ne toh kaha galat number hai.

+92 XXXXX56798: Jaante hue message toh nahi kiya?

Y/N: Itni farigh nahi hun!

+92 XXXXX56798: Galat number ko message kiye ja rahi ho.

Y/N: Haan toh aap kya kar rahein hain?

No response. You deleted the texts and went back to try and defeat Snake.

—

Y/N: Bilkul civic sense nahi hai, tum jahaan jate ho wahaan logon ko deewana kar deti ho.

+92 XXXXX56789: Class pe attention do, yeh sab bakwaas mat karo.

Y/N: Shut up, khud mere messages uss Hamza ke bachche ko bhejti ho phir i love you i love you karti ho.

Across the lecture hall, you saw Yalina put her phone face down on the desk and look back at the lecturer.

You deleted her texts, annoyed. You then rolled your eyes, and texted again.

Y/N: Potato ko kehte hai aloo, cutie kya main tumhe pata lun?

+92 XXXXX56798: Phir se galat number. Jaante hue kar rahi ho. Tum jaanti ho main kaun hun.

Y/N: Arrey yaar. Mujhe nahi pata aap kaun hain. Aap apna number badlein, meri dost ke number se kaafi milta hai.

You deleted his texts, looking back at the lecturer who was now harping on about a quiz. Whatever, you’d sit behind Yalina, you were sorted.

—

Eleven at night. Relatively early for you, but you knew Yalina was going to doze off soon, so you wanted to text her something absurd before she slept. Just so she’d know you were thinking of her.

Y/N: Oh would you look at the time.. Its miss u o clock

+92 XXXXX56798: tum phir se shuru ho gyi

Y/N: Good night meri jaan

+92 XXXXX56798: main tumhari jaan nahi hun. Main uzair hun.

You checked the number and sighed.

Y/N: Confuse ho gayi. Sorry. 

+92 XXXXX56798: no problmen

You stared at the text, before typing again.

Y/N: Aap ne koi nasha kiya hai?

+92 XXXXX56798: tumhe KAIse pata chala

Y/N: Aap abhi full formal text nahi kar rahe. Meri tarah kar rahein hain.

+92 XXXXX56798: tumhari dost ka number save nahi kiya hai KYA har baar mujhe msg karti ho. 

Y/N: Nahi. 

+92 XXXXX56798: kyun

Y/N: Apne aap ko aise torture karne ka shauk hai.

Y/N: Waise aap hamesha kyun poochte ho ki main aapko jaanti hun ya nahi?

+92 XXXXX56798: main uzair hun.

Y/N: Ok congrats.

+92 XXXXX56798: tum samajh nahi rahi. 

+92 XXXXX56798: Lhyari

Y/N: Main bhi Lyari ki hun! 

Your brows furrowed, who was an Uzair in Lyari? You pursed your lips, trying to remember everyone in the mohalla before your jaw dropped.

Y/N: UZAIR BALOCH?

+92 XXXXX56798: yess. Umhe kaisa pata cha;a

Y/N: IM SO SORRY. MUJEH MAAF KAREIN. MAIN SAB TEXTS DELETE LARUNGO. SORRY SORRY SORRY.

You immediately deleted the texts. Your stupid habits had gotten you in trouble. You drew up your phone and saved Yalina’s number, double checking you got the number right.

Y/N: Yalina, I fucked up. Massively.

Yalina: Ab kya hua?

—

Yalina’s laughter was grating your ears.

“Tum pagal ho!” she wheezed, “Isiliye tum se kehti hun number save kiya karo!”

You folded your arms and rested it on the table in front of you, dropping your head on it, “Kal raat hi save kar diya”. You looked up, fear etched across your face, “Yalina, woh mujhe maar dalega”.

Yalina scoffed, “He has better things to do”.

Ignoring your hurt look, she continued, “Waise bhi, woh Hamza ka dost hai, aur-”

“Kya?” you stood up, “Tum usse mil chuki ho?”

“Haan,” she pulled you down onto your seat, “Woh ladkiyon ko kuch nahi kehta. Bas ab number save kar diya hai na. Don’t worry. He won’t-”

Your phone beeped. 

1 NEW MESSAGE

You looked like you were about to start crying, so Yalina opened it.

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum jaanti ho main kaun hun.

You pulled on Yalina’s sleeve, “He’s going to kill me”.

“Shut up,” she swatted your hand away, before replying to him.

Y/N: Ji. Aap ko itne din bhool se text kiya uske liye maaf karein. Maine apni dost ka number save kar diya hai. Phir se nahi hoga.

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum kaun ho? Mujhe message kisne kiya abhi?

You gasped, “He knows the way I text Yalina, he’ll sniff me out like a bloodhound and kill me!”

Yalina tch-ed and handed your phone back, “Just apologise”. She stood up, “Main Hamza se milne jaa rahi hun. Should I speak to him on your behalf?”

You looked back at her, “Are you mad? This is our secret, Yalina. We’re taking it to our graves”.

She giggled, kissing you goodbye before leaving. You looked back at your phone to a new message from him.

+92 XXXXX56798: Kaun ho tum?

Y/N: Main sorry hun. Sorry. Wapis kabhi nahi message karungi. OK BYE.

—

The first time you saw him was when Yalina was introducing you to Hamza. You were at Aalam’s juice shop, and Hamza was answering your very serious question about how the juicer machine worked, when a tall man with the broadest shoulders you’d ever seen came and stood next to Hamza.

“Hamze,” he said, voice low and raspy, “Chal. Arshad Pappu ki factory mein apne ladkon ka masla hai”.

Hamza straightened, not bothering with introductions. He nodded to you and Yalina before following that man out.

Yalina looked at your dumbfounded expression and let out a resigned sigh, “Woh Uzair Baloch hai”.

You whipped around and stared at her, before whispering, “Mera Uzair?”

She let out a surprised laugh, “Tumhara kab se ho gaya?”

She took one look at the determined look in your eyes, before saying, “Please, Y/N. No. I’ll tell Hamza”.

You looked at her, “Agar tum ne Hamza ko bataya toh main use bata dungi ki tumne uske thighs ke baare me kya kaha tha”.

Yalina turned red instantly, “You promised tum kisi aur ko kabhi nahi bataogi!”

You put an arm around her, “Yalina, ishq alag hi cheez hoti hai”.

“Ishq nahi, tumhari toh aiyyashi hai,” she grumbled.

—

That night, you rolled around in bed, giggling to yourself, before pulling your phone out. You didn’t bother saving his number, knowing you had Yalina’s saved.

Y/N: Achcha hua sundar hone ka bill nahi hota warna aap toh karze me doob jaate

He replied in less than a minute.

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum ne kaha phir message nahi karogi?

Y/N: Haan. Par phir mujhe aap dikhe..

+92 XXXXX56798: Kahaan? 

Y/N: Mustafa Mechanic ki dukaan ke paas

You lied, of course you did. Yalina had promised not to tell Hamza and you weren't going to be the one to give yourself away.

+92 XXXXX56798: Main aaj wahaan gaya bhi nahi.

Y/N: Maine kab kaha maine aapko aaj dekha??

No response for a full five minutes - you counted. And then - 

+92 XXXXX56798: Kab dekha mujhe?

Y/N: Main nahi bataungi.

+92 XXXXX56798: Kaun ho tum?

Y/N: Main chor hun aap ka dil de do

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum jaanti ho main kaun hun. Phir message mat karna.

You pouted and put your phone away. You’d have to try to catch him in a good mood. No worries, you’d try tomorrow.

—

The next morning, you woke up at noon, but decided your first text had to go out to him.

Y/N: Saans toh lene diya karo, aankh khulte hi yaad aa jaate ho

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum phir se shuru?

Y/N: Good morning!

+92 XXXXX56798: Dopahar hai.

Y/N: Main abhi uthi hun. Mera morning hai. Aap good afternoon bolein

+92 XXXXX56798: Mujhe nahi bolna.

Y/N: toh na bolein maine kahaan zabardasti ki hai?

He didn’t reply. You laughed and started your day.

—

You weren’t having a good day. But it turned around when you suddenly received a message from him first after a week of constantly texting him.

+92 XXXXX56798: Message mat karna.

Y/N: Maine message nahi kiya.

+92 XXXXX56798: Karna bhi mat.

You pouted at his tone, which - as you thought of it, was weird that you could tell he wasn’t having a good day either. You decided to heed his request - after one text.

Y/N: Ginger ko kehte hain adrak, good things r coming, tu zara thand rakh!

Your message didn’t go through. He had probably switched his phone off.

Or had he blocked you?

You pouted again, annoyed. No matter, you convinced yourself, you’d keep trying till your texts went through.

—

You woke up the next day to a text message from him already on your phone.

+92 XXXXX56798: Maine kaha tha message mat karna.

Y/N: Aap ne phone bandh kar rakha tha.?

+92 XXXXX56798: Haan.

You held your phone to your chest, giddy, before replying.

Y/N: THANK YOU

Y/N: Thank you for not blocking me

Y/N: WAIT

Y/N: PLEASE MUJHE BLOCK NA KAREIN PLEASE 

Y/N: MAINE IDEA KYUN DIYA

Y/N: Oh, messages ja rahein hain.

Y/N: Sab kehte hain sharing is caring but main aapko bilkul bhi share na karun!

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum phir shuru ho gayi?

Y/N: Yesss! Par aaj mera quiz hai toh aaj ke liye sirf itna.

Later that night, when you were all cried out about failing the quiz, your phone beeped.

+92 XXXXX56798: Kaisa gaya?

Y/N: WOW aapko yaad tha?

Y/N: Bahut kharaab tha. Fail ho gayi.

+92 XXXXX56798: Mujhe message mat karo, padhai pe focus karo.

Y/N: Khud par kaise focus karun jab saara focus aap par hi hai

He didn’t reply, but somehow you didn’t mind too much.

—

It was the hottest day of the year. Lyari, which already ran hot, seemed like it was on fire.

You sat in front of the cooler in Yalina’s room and ate your ice cream, when you decided to text him.

Y/N: Garmi toh aise badh rahi hai jaise mere mann me aap ke liye pyaar

+92 XXXXX56798: Pyaar?

Y/N: Hmm. sahi hai. Crush? Infatuation?

+92 XXXXX56798: Bahut garmi lag rahi hai toh kuch thanda kha lo.

Y/N: Ice cream kha rahi hun, phir Aaalam juice shop jaungi.

+92 XXXXX56798: Kya logi? Orange juice?

Y/N: Tarbooz ka juice. Rooh Afza ke saath. 

+92 XXXXX56798: …That actually sounds delicious.

Y/N: Meri pasand humesha lajawaab hoti hai, yakeen nahi toh khud ko dekh lo

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum bilkul nahi rukti ho.

Y/N: Bilkul nahi. Par aapko pasand hain Isiliye reply karte ho.

You worried you were being too forward, but it was a chance worth taking. 

A chance that paid off. 

+92 XXXXX56798: Haan.

—

Three days later, boredom struck you again. And of course, with Yalina busy riding on Hamza's bike, you had to direct your attention elsewhere.

Y/N: Don’t ask me kya haal hai, bc ofc aap ka hi khayal hai

+92 XXXXX56798: Maine poocha bhi nahi.

Y/N: Yaar aap itne pyaar se baat karte ho mujhe sharam aa jaati hai

+92 XXXXX56798: Tumne nashe kiye hain kya?

Y/N: Aapse ek sawaal karna tha.

+92 XXXXX56798: ?

Y/N: Woh aap se poochna tha aap mere pyaar me giroge ya peeche se dhakka dun?

When he didn't reply for a full hour, you texted again.

Y/N: Aapse baat karte waqt puri koshish hai ki aapko blush karwaaun

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum sudhrogi nahi, na?

You slept a little too peacefully that night.

—

A few weeks later, you weren't feeling well. So much so that you just slept all day, hoping it would go away by itself.

You hadn't realised you'd forgotten to text a certain someone until he reached out.

+92 XXXXX56798: Theek toh ho?

You squinted at your screen, but your body is too tired to translate the joy you felt in your heart to your face.

Y/N: Tabiyat kharaab hai.

+92 XXXXX56798: Kya hua?

Y/N: Bukhaar.

+92 XXXXX56798: Doctor ko dikhaya?

Y/N: Haan, unhonein kaha ki Vitamin U ki kami hai.

+92 XXXXX56798: …

Y/N: Chakkar aa raha hai aapki bahon me gir jaau?

+92 XXXXX56798: Take care. Dawaiyan lena mat bhoolna.

You smiled softly, hugging your phone to your chest as you fell asleep.

—

Some habits died hard.

You were running to catch your bus home while dialling Yalina’s number manually, not paying attention.

As soon as you heard the click, you rambled, “Yalina, tumhe yakeen nahi hoga aaj kya hua! Poocho kya hua!”

The voice that came through wasn’t Yalina’s. It was a low, raspy voice - one you’d heard a while ago, “Kya hua?”

You stopped in the middle of the road and looked down at your phone in horror.

56798.

Fuck.

You let out a strangled yelp and hung up, before running harder to your bus. When you got in, your phone vibrated. You looked down at your screen, hands trembling slightly.

+92 XXXXX56798: Tum mujhe dekh chuki ho. Maine tumhari awaaz sun li hai. We’re even.

Y/N: Maine bhi aapki awaaz sun li.

+92 XXXXX56798: Toh ab mujhe tumhe dekhna padega?

For the first time, you didn’t have a response.

—

You didn’t text him for three days, and he messaged first.

+92 XXXXX56798: Embarrassed?

Y/N: Shut up.

+92 XXXXX56798: Teen din se tumhare message nahi aaye toh laga sharma gayi ho.

Y/N: Yaar aap se baat nahi ho toh khali khali lagta hai

+92 XXXXX56798: Mujhe bhi.

—

You knew that it was inevitable - you were going to meet each other eventually.

He was in Hamza’s circle, you were in Yalina’s, and Hamza and Yalina were more than just in each other’s circle.

So when it was time to go to Hamza’s birthday party, you made sure to look your best. When Yalina saw you, she raised an eyebrow, “Is tonight the night he finds out?”

You thought about it, “I hope not. Mujhe unhein chidhaane me bahut mazaa aata hai”.

Yalina shook her head, before grabbing your hand and walking through the door of Hamza’s apartment.

The party was just a gathering of you, Yalina, Hamza, Uzair, and two of their friends - Donga and Siyahi. Hamza introduced you all to each other, before settling in for some cake.

You were trying to behave like a normal person, leaving Hamza confused and Yalina on the verge of laughter.

But the mask slipped when in a moment of unawareness, you went back to your default daarubaaz aashiq state around Yalina. You handed her a bottle of water to add to her drink, saying, “Yeh lo cutie, paani pee lo. Mere dimaag me ghoom ghoom ke thak chuki hogi”.

As Yalina and Hamza groaned, you heard Uzair, who was in the middle of a sentence, go quiet. He turned around and looked at you in suspicion, while you quickly turned towards Hamza.

“Hamza bhai, janamdin ki bahut mubaarak. Happy birthday,” you hugged him, “Okay bye”. You winced, recalling an earlier text to him, before kissing Yalina on the cheek and power walking out.

As you rushed, you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

“Y/N”.

You walked faster, groaning internally as his footsteps got closer. He placed his hand on your shoulder, and you yelped, whirling around.

He held his hands up, “Y/N?”

“Ji?”

“Aap… Yeh zara ajeeb lagega, par kya aap mujhe message kar rahi hain?”

You pretended to be confused, “Kya?”

He dragged his palm across his face, before holding his hand out, “Apna phone dikhaaein”.

“What?”

“Phone dikhaaein,” he said, before adding, “Please” as an afterthought.

“Dekhein, main aapko jaanti nahi hun. Main apna phone kyun dikhaun? Agar mera number chahte hain toh theek se maangein,” you added, cheekily.

He looked flustered, “Kya? Nahi, woh. Please. Aapka phone dikhaaein”.

When you shook your head, he pulled his phone out, “Aap mera dekh lein”.

You laughed, “Aap ka phone mujhe nahi dekhna hai”.

He sighed, “I know I sound crazy. But please?”

You handed your phone over to him, and watched as he opened your messages. You smirked, knowing you had already deleted all your messages of the day.

He looked at your phone in confusion, “Aap kisi ko message nahi karti?”

“Ji nahi, main calls prefer karti hun”.

He slowly nodded, before returning your phone, “Maaf karein. Aap ko main ajeeb lag raha honga”.

“Haan,” you said, shrugging, “But I don’t mind ajeeb”.

You winked at him, before returning home.

In the dead of the night, you texted him.

Y/N: My problem is i wanna see u right after ive seen u (YES im obsesseD)

+92 XXXXX56798: Y/N?

Y/N: Number save kar lein :-) 

—

Two days later, he texted you.

+92 XXXXX56798: Mera number save kyun nahi kiya?

Y/N: Aap ko galti se text karne ke baad Yalina ka save kar liya.

+92 XXXXX56798: Maine tumhara number save kar rakha hai.

You sighed dreamily. And then saved his number.

Uzair.

—

Uzair: Kahaan ho?

Y/N: Saddar Bazaar. Kyun?

Uzair: Aalam juice shop chalogi?

Y/N: Haan.

Y/N: Give me fifteen minutes. Bas kuch cheezein kharred kar aayi.

Uzair: Kya lene gayi ho.

Y/N: shehad.

Y/N: Waise market me kaafi farzi honey hai

Uzair: Don’t.

Y/N: asli honey toh aap hain ;-)

Y/N: YAAR MERA RHYTHM KYUN TODA

—

When you got to the juice shop, Uzair was already seated at a table facing the door, with two glasses of watermelon juice in front of him.

Despite the nerves, you slid into the seat opposite him.

You quietly took a sip of your juice, when he broke the silence, “Mera number save kiya?”

“Haan,” you said, “waise poochna tha - aapka naam Vaseline rakh dun? Aapke bina zindagi rukhi sukhi si lagti hai”.

You watched the contours of his face change, and the corner of his mouth lift up.

“Milne par bhi aisi baatein karogi?”

“Kyun nahi,” you leaned forward, “Aap ko toh meri baatein bahut pasand hai, na?”

He grinned, looking down at his drink, and not denying it.

Later that night, you texted him.

Y/N: kinda jealous of ur pillow

Uzair: ?

Y/N: you cuddle with it all night and not me :( 

Uzair: Good night.

Y/N: I KNOW UR SMILING UZAIR

—

Days turned into weeks, and you met him on an almost regular basis. Be it Aalam’s juice shop, Clifton beach, or even dinner, wherever you returned from your dates, you always sent him a text.

Like tonight, after he’d dropped you home, you pulled your phone out as soon as you got into bed.

Y/N: Mujhe lagta hai mere sabr ka fal aap hain.

Y/N: Sweet

Uzair: Isiliye asli honey toh main hoon.

Y/N: UZAIR?!?!?!

—

You were returning from college, when an idea struck you.

Y/N: Uzair, mujhe police ne Mai Kolachi bridge par rok liya hai.

Uzair: Kya?

Uzair: Main aa raha hun.

Y/N: Arrest karne ki baat kar rahe hain?

Uzair: Kya? Kyun?

Uzair: Main bas do minute door hun.

Y/N: Keh rahe hain aapko hadd se zyaada pasand krne ke jurm me giraftar karenge.

You giggled as you heard his footsteps behind you. You turned, watching as he shook his head, while trying to suppress his smile.

“Mujhe sach me laga kuch masla ho gaya hai”.

You walked over and wrapped your arms around him, “Sorry”. He stilled for a second, before hugging you back, resting his chin on your head, “Worth it”.

—

Three months had passed.

You and Uzair had established your relationship, but that didn’t stop you from flirting with him over texts. In fact, it was clearly one of your favorite parts of your relationship.

Which is why you were shocked when you woke up one morning to a text from him.

Uzair: Chidhiya banati hai ghosla, chuha banata hai bill.

Uzair: Toh batao, kyun churaya tumne mera dil?

── .✦

Tag list (If you'd like to be added/removed please let me know!) 

The grey dawn of Lyari didn’t bring clarity; it brought the heavy, humid realization that the world you knew had officially ended. The room was still thick with the scent of spent adrenaline and Uzair’s cologne, a fragrance that now felt like a permanent layer of your own skin. You lay paralyzed under the heavy weight of his arm, draped across your waist like a leaden shackle. The sunlight filtered through the ornate curtains, illuminating the bruises on your collarbone, blunt, purple testaments to a man who didn't know how to touch without leaving a mark.

Uzair was still asleep, his face uncharacteristically peaceful. Without the predatory spark in his eyes, he looked almost like the boy he used to be,the one who stood in the shadows of the courtyard, invisible to everyone but the girl he tormented. But the peace was a lie. As his eyes flickered open, the "ghost boy" vanished, replaced instantly by the King of Lyari. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he tightened his grip, pulling your back flush against his chest, his breath hot and possessive against your neck. "Uthne ka sochna bhi mat," (Don’t even think about getting up)he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. "Ghar ruk sakta hai. Duniya bhi. Tum kahin nahi jaa rahi." (The house can wait. The world can wait. You’re not going anywhere.)

__🥀__

The weeks that followed that first night in his room were a blurred descent into a fever dream. The Baloch Haveli, once a sprawling fortress of service and study, had narrowed down to the dimensions of Uzair’s bedroom and the suffocating heat of his presence. You moved through the house like a sleepwalker, the mark he had left on your neck hidden beneath the heavy folds of your dupatta, a secret brand that pulsed with every heartbeat.

It was during the peak of a sweltering July afternoon that the reality of your situation crystallized into a terrifying physical manifestation. You were in the kitchen, the scent of frying spices suddenly turning your stomach into a knot of cold lead. You barely made it to the sink before the morning sickness claimed you.

"Beta? Kya hua? Tabiyat theek nahi?" (Beta? What happened? Are you not feeling well?) Ulfat Bhabi’s voice was laced with a suspicion that quickly morphed into a knowing, sharp-eyed gleam.

Before you could offer a stuttered excuse about the heat, a heavy hand landed on the small of your back. The heat of it seared through your clothes. Uzair had appeared like a wraith, his eyes scanning your pale face with an intensity that made you want to shrink into the floorboards. He didn't say a word to Ulfat; he simply gripped your arm and led you upstairs, his stride possessive and urgent.

In the privacy of his room, he shoved a small plastic stick into your hand, something he must have had one of his men fetch from the pharmacy. "Check kar," (Go check) he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

Ten minutes later, the two red lines stared back at you. Your knees gave out, and you sank onto the edge of the bed. Uzair stood over you, the smoke from his cigarette curling around his head like a halo of ash. He looked at the test, and for the first time, you saw a flash of something other than predatory hunger in his eyes. It was a terrifying, absolute triumph.

"Mubarak ho, rani sahiba," (Congratulations, my queen) he whispered, kneeling between your legs. He didn't touch your face; instead, he rested his large, scarred palm over your flat stomach. "Ab to bhagne ka khayal bhi zehan se nikal do. Mere khoon ko apne andar liye kahan jaogi? Ye bacha mera hai. Aur iska matlab hai ke tum... tum hamesha ke liye meri ho." (Now you should stop even thinking about running away. Where will you go carrying my blood inside you? This child is mine. And that means you… you are mine forever.)

__🥀__

The announcement to the family was handled with the bluntness typical of the Baloch brothers. Rehman let out a booming laugh that shook the chandeliers, while Ulfat immediately began planning the Nikah. To them, the scandal was secondary to the preservation of the bloodline. Within forty-eight hours, the Haveli was being draped in marigolds and red silk.

The day of the Nikah was a sensory overload of traditional obligation and dark intimacy. Ulfat dressed you in a heavy, blood-red jora, the weight of the gold embroidery making every movement an effort. As she applied the henna to your palms, she leaned in close, "Uzair thoda sakht hai, beta, par wo tumse bachpan se junoon ki had tak mohabbat karta hai. Ab toh bacha bhi aa raha hai. Sab bhool jao, aur is ghar ki malika bano." (Uzair is a little harsh, beta, but he has loved you obsessively since childhood. And now a baby is on the way too. Forget everything and become the queen of this house.)

The ceremony itself was a blur. You sat behind the floral curtain, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm. When the Maulvi asked for your consent, you felt Uzair’s gaze burning through the fabric of the partition. You knew the weight of his threat, Faisal’s safety, your own survival.

"Qubool hai," you whispered. The words felt like the final lock clicking into place.

__🥀_'

The moment the guests cleared, Uzair didn't bother with the traditional festivities. He hauled you up the stairs, his grip on your waist so tight it left bruises through the silk. He kicked the door of his room shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. The room was bathed in the amber glow of oil lamps, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and the sharp, masculine tang of Uzair’s cologne.

He turned you around, his hands tangling in the heavy gold necklaces around your neck. "Biwi... meri biwi,"(wife...my wife) he groaned, the words sounding foreign and delicious on his tongue. He began to unpin your heavy dupatta, his fingers trembling with a suppressed violence that made your breath hitch.

He didn't wait. He pulled you into a kiss that was a collision of teeth and tongue, a desperate, starving reclamation. It wasn't the kiss of a husband; it was the kiss of a man who had finally captured the sun and intended to swallow it whole. You felt the scratch of his beard against your skin, the heat of his body radiating through your bridal layers. To your horror, your body responded—a treacherous, deep-seated ache that had been cultivated by months of his relentless attention. Stockholm Syndrome wasn't just a psychological trap; it was a physical one.

"Uzair... dhang se toh baat kijiye," (Uzair… at least speak properly)you gasped against his lips, your hands clutching his shoulders for balance.

He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were bloodshot, dancing with a mix of lust and an agonizing vulnerability he still didn't know how to voice, "Baat kya karoon? Mujhe alfaz nahi aate. Mujhe sirf ye pata hai ke jab tum mere samne nahi hoti, toh mera dil karta hai ke main pooray Lyari ko aag laga doon. Jab tum kisi aur ki taraf dekhti ho, toh mera hath meri gun par jata hai." (What am I supposed to say? I don’t know how to put things into words. I only know that when you’re not in front of me, I feel like setting all of Lyari on fire. And when you look at someone else, my hand reaches for my gun.)

He began to undo the buttons of your blouse, his touch surprisingly gentle given the fire in his eyes. He stopped when he saw the faint marks he had left on your shoulder days ago. He leaned down and licked the skin there, a slow, possessive gesture that made a low moan escape your throat.

"Tumhe nafrat hai mujhse?" (You hate me?)he whispered, his hands sliding down to the curve of your hips, pulling you flush against the hard evidence of his desire. "Hone do. Nafrat bhi ek junoon hai. Main tumhe itna pyar dunga ke tumhari nafrat thak jayegi. Main tumhe itna todunga ke jab tum khud ko dobara jodogi, toh mere bagair tum adhuri hogi." (Let it be. Even hatred is a kind of obsession. I will love you so intensely that your hatred will grow tired. I will break you so completely that when you put yourself back together, you’ll be incomplete without me.)

He pushed you back onto the bed, the red silk of your dress spreading out like a pool of blood. He loomed over you, the lonely boy long dead, replaced by a king who looked at you as his only sanctuary. The sexual tension was a physical weight in the room, thick and suffocating. Every time his skin touched yours, it felt like a brand.

As the night progressed, the power dynamic shifted in a way you hadn't expected. In his bed, under his touch, you realized that you held a weapon of your own. His obsession made him weak to your whims; he was a slave to the very woman he had enslaved. You saw the way his eyes glazed over when you finally, tentatively, ran your nails down his scarred back. You saw the way he shuddered when you whispered his name, not as a plea, but as a command.

__🥀__

Months later, their imperfect happy ending had rooted itself deeply. You sat on the balcony of the Haveli, your stomach now heavy and round with his child. You were no longer the girl who dreamt of college; you were the woman who ran the Baloch household with an iron fist wrapped in velvet. Ulfat deferred to you, and even Rehman respected the way you could calm Uzair’s most violent rages with a single look.

Uzair walked out onto the balcony, the evening shadows of Lyari lengthening behind him. He had just come from a "meeting," his knuckles bruised and his shirt stained with someone else's blood. He didn't go to the sink; he came straight to you. He knelt at your feet, resting his head on your lap, closing his eyes as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"Sab theek hai?" (Is everything okay?) you asked softly.

"Ab theek hai,"(Now it is)he murmured, his voice muffled by the fabric of your dress. He looked up at you, and for a fleeting second, you saw the lonely boy who just wanted to be seen. But then the predator returned, his hand gripping your chin, pulling you down for a deep, bruising kiss that tasted of iron and salt.

You didn't pull away. You leaned into it, your eyes closing as you accepted the dark, golden cage you had helped build. Outside, Lyari was at war, but inside the Haveli, there was a terrible, beautiful peace. You were the Predator’s prize, his queen, and his prisoner, and as he whispered "Meri jaan" into your ear, you realized you wouldn't have it any other way. The dumb boy had won, and in his victory, you had found a power that no textbook could ever have taught you.

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