Ophelia

"Interesting..."

Pedro looked over his shoulder,"Kya?"

"The killer deleted the footage."

"Haan-."

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

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

Pedro frowned,"So?"

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

"Hmm."

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

The room grew quieter around them.

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

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

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

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

"The body?" Pedro asked.

"Study." The investigating officer said.

The three of them walked upstairs.

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

Pritam didn't go near the body.

Instead, he slowly walked around the room.

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

"Huh."

Pedro folded his arms."Kya hua?"

"I don't know."

"So helpful."

"I'm serious."

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

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

Pedro looked.

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

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

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

"But?"

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

The officer nodded once,"Fair."

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

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

---

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

"Nahi."

"Senior doctor friend of yours then?"

"Nahi."

"Toh?"

Pedro smiled faintly, "meri saali sahiba ko"

The phone rang once,"Haan Pedro bhai?"

"Aa sakti ho?"

"Case?"

"Murder."

"Fresh?"

"Teen ghante."

"Location bhejo."

The line disconnected.

---

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

A pastel blue scooter rolled neatly between two police vehicles.

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

Pritam happened to glance outside.

Then froze,"...Nahi."

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

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

Then- "TUM?!"

Her voice echoed through the hallway.

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

Every head in the room turned.

Pedro looked from one to the other.

"...Ek minute."

Y/N recovered first. She looked at Pedro.

"Bhaoji..."

"Haan...?"

"Yeh yahan kya kar raha hai?!"

At exactly the same time-

Pritam threw both hands into the air.

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

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

Both answered without missing a beat.

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

Silence.

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

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

Pedro looked utterly confused.

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

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

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

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

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

"Haan toh thi na do saal ki warranty-"

"Teen din mein kharab ho gaya woh khatara!"

"Company ki problem hai!"

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

"Main bhi kar raha hoon!"

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

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

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

Neither of them stopped.

"Tumne bola tha doorstep service!"

"Maine bola tha company degi!"

"Tum company hi toh ho!"

"Main salesman hu!"

"Mujhe farak nahi padta!"

"Mujhe padta hai!"

"Scammer!"

"Impossible customer!"

Pedro suddenly clapped his hands.

The sharp sound cut through the argument.

"Bas!"

Both fell silent.

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

Neither answered.

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

A few officers coughed suspiciously to hide their laughter.

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

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

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

Pritam held up both hands,"Theek hai."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pedro caught him staring,"Kya?"

"Nothing."

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

"Kya..soch raha hai?"

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

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

Pritam found that a little unfair.

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

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

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

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

She did not even glance in his direction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The officer blinked. “Gunshot ki wajah se?”

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

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

“This body was moved,” she said.

That actually pulled Pedro’s attention in more sharply.

“Moved?”

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

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

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

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

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

Pedro stared at the victim’s hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N wasn't convinced.

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

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

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

She fought a smile.

Fought.

Unfortunately, she lost.

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

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

---

As the investigation progressed, so did their partnership.

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

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

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

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

He found it unfair.

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

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

He never admitted it. Not even to himself.

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

He was infuriating, ridiculously dramatic, hopelessly messy.

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

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

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

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

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

Pritam looked up."Kaisa?"

"...Achhe."

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

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

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

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

Maybe he was just a terrible salesman.

There was a difference.

---

Pedro noticed none of it.

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

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

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

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

Working well together.

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

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

---

The breakthrough in the case arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.

With three people quietly doing what they did best.

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

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

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

Pedro frowned at the screen.

"...Affair."

Pritam nodded slowly,"I think so."

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

Both men looked at her

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

Pedro's eyes narrowed.

"The wife doesn't use that brand."

Y/N shook her head.

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

Pedro blinked,"Dhattatrey..."

"Who else" Y/N added sighing.

Silence settled over the table.

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

Sherlyn said, " could it be the assistant?"

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

"The interior designer?" Pritam guessed.

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

The room went quiet.

Pedro grabbed the witness statements again.

The event planner.

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

A woman who had cried convincingly during questioning.

A woman whose phone number...

Pritam's fingers flew over the keyboard.

"...Found her."

Pedro leaned closer.

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

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

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

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

And on the afternoon of the murder...

She had been inside the villa.

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

Exactly enough time to stage the room.

Pedro slowly smiled,"Chalo."

---

The arrest happened before sunset.

She tried to deny everything.

Then she tried blaming the wife.

Then she claimed the victim had become violent.

But the evidence refused to cooperate with her story.

The digital trail.

The bloodstain reconstruction.

The staged crime scene.

The bruising.

The recovered messages Pritam managed to restore from cloud fragments.

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

Back at headquarters, the atmosphere felt noticeably lighter.

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

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

Pedro scratched the back of his neck.

"Sir..."

The DIG smiled,"Good work, Gonsalves."

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

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

She nodded politely,"Thank you, sir."

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

The DIG sighed dramatically,"Mujhe pata tha."

"Crime Branch..."

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

Pedro sighed.

"But..."

Pedro straightened.

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

He closed the case file with a firm clap.

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

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

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

"Sir?"

"Celebrate."

---

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

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

Pedro insisted on paying.

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

Nobody mentioned it.

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

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

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

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

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

Completely oblivious.

By the time they left, the roads had emptied.

The sea breeze had turned cooler.

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

"...Workshop."

She sighed,"I forgot."

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

She looked at him.

"...main available hoon."

She rolled her eyes, but sat down anyway.

The ride home was quieter, comfortable.

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

Neither moved.

Neither seemed particularly eager to end the evening.

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

He took it carefully,"No problem."

Another silence. Longer this time.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

She watched him with growing amusement.

He looked...Nervous.

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

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

"Hmm?"

"...ek baat poochun?"

"Poocho."

He took a deep breath.

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

She smiled "I do."

"...lekin..."

He looked everywhere except at her.

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

She didn't answer immediately.

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

"Oh."

He smiled sheepishly.

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

She stepped closer.

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

There was that familiar little crease between her brows.

Except this time...

She wasn't thinking about blood patterns.

Or forensic reports.

Or murder.

She was looking at him.

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

He blinked.

"...you're surprisingly slow."

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

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

It lasted barely a heartbeat.

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

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

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

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

Helmet still in one hand, keys in the other.

Smiling like an absolute idiot beneath the porch light.

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

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

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a special inkling towards music, poetry and everything art. He can go from arguing over trade tariffs one moment to passionately debating the meaning of a painting the next. His friends often joke that he was born with one foot in the treasury and the other in a mehfil.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a terrible habit of inviting "just a few friends" over for an evening of music almost every other day, only for the gathering to stretch well past midnight because nobody ever wants to be the first to leave.

Court Performer!Y/N who bows gracefully before the many royal courts every evening with her troupe, then spends the carriage ride home mentally calculating whether this week's earnings will be enough for rent, medicine for her ailing mother and groceries.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who asks his mulazim to invite the city's most sought-after dancing troupe for his next mehfil after hearing endless praise about them from Nawab Iqbal from the neighbouring state. "If they're truly as talented as he claims," he mused, "I'd rather judge that for myself."

The Troupe Leader who's over the moon when the palace invitation arrives. Performing in the royal court is one thing, but being personally invited to entertain at one of Naib Nawab sahab's private mehfils is an honour few artists ever receive.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finds himself far more than impressed by the troupe's performance than he anticipated. Every note of the music seems to sink in perfect harmony with their movements, every step executed with precision. It is actually a performance worthy of all the praises he had heard about them.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who, despite the splendour performance happening before him, cannot seem to tear his eyes away from this particular dancer. When she moves to the left, his gaze follows without a thought. When she twirls to the right, his gaze follows just as faithfully. There was something different about her. She dances as though the music lives within her, with no hesitation, no desperate need to impress anyone, just the joy of someone utterly lost in the art she performs. And for some reason he was utterly captivated by that.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who silently wished the performance to stretch a little longer. And when it finally ended, he generously rewarded the entire troupe himself with gold, pearls, and money, leaving everyone surprised. But the bigger surprise was that for the very first time, he praised the artists even after the performance had ended long ago, a rare honour from him that left everyone in quiet astonishment.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who without drawing anyone's attention, quietly placed a slightly heavier pouch of gold coins into Y/N's hands. The gesture was so natural, that for a brief moment she wondered if he had made a mistake. But the doubt faded when he looked at her and said in his calm, solemn voice "You are a remarkable artist." Y/N accepted the praise with quiet grace, bowing her head respectfully "Aapka shukriya, Naib Nawab Sahab." (Thank you, Naib Nawab sir)

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who later summoned the troupe leader and, much to her surprise requested that Y/N be assigned to perform exclusively for him. With a simple explanation, that he had been impressed by her skills and graceful sincerity with which she dances.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who left the troupe leader pleasantly astonished by his request. Still, she agreed without any hesitation as he placed two heavy pouches of gold coins in front of her. Not that she was in any position to question the Naib Nawab's wishes in the first place.

Court Performer!Y/N who soon finds herself becoming a familiar face within the palace corridors. Before long, the guards greet her with respectful nods, the servants no longer needing to ask for her name as they quietly escort her towards Naib Nawab Sahab's private jalsa ghar.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who, despite insisting that her visits remain strictly for artistic performances, somehow always finds himself rearranging his schedule so that no meeting, minister or merchant could interrupt the hour she'd be at the palace.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never once asks her to perform anything she isn't comfortable with. He simply tells her to sing or dance whichever composition she enjoys most, believing an artist performs best when their heart chooses the piece rather than their patron.

Court Performer!Y/N who addresses him with unwavering respect every single visit. Every conversation begins and ends with a polite bow and "Naib Nawab Sahab," neither of them daring to step beyond the formal boundaries expected between a nobleman and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who over the months, starts asking questions before each performance. At first it's about the raag she chose to perform that day or the poet behind the ghazal, but gradually the conversations slowly wandered towards her ustad, her childhood and what first made her fall in love with music.

Court Performer!Y/N who is quietly surprised to find that the Naib Nawab actually listens to her answers. Most nobles only cared to be entertained, but not him. He listened with the same attention whether she was explaining a difficult taan or recalling a fond memory from years ago.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who gradually begins requesting one final ghazal, then one question about the poet, then another about the composition itself. Before either of them realises it, the music has long since ended while their conversation continues well into the evening.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually notices she spends more time sitting across from the Naib Nawab with a cup of sharbat in her hands than she does actually singing or dancing for him. She isn't quite sure when their meetings stopped feeling less like performances and more like conversations and actual friendship.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually stops apologising every time she disagrees with the Naib Nawab's interpretation of a poem. "I still think the poet meant longing, not regret," she'd insist, only to earn an amused shake of his head as he replied, "Then perhaps we'll have to agree that the poet has disappointed one of us.”

Naib Nawab! Uzair who gradually began to notice the smallest things about Y/N before she ever mentions them, the slightest strain in her voice after a long performance, the missing anklet she had worn for months, the ragas that brings a bright smile to her face, as if paying attention to her had simply become his second nature. Before he even realizes it, he started to set aside the sweetest mangoes, a newly written ghazal or a poem because "Y/N would like it."

Court Performer! Y/N Who slowly began looking forward to her evenings at the palace. She told herself it was because the Naib Nawab truly appreciated her art, but her heart knew better. Somehow, she always found herself waiting for him, no matter how late he was. And no matter how demanding the affairs of the state became, he always came. And in no time, she started to recognize his footsteps long before he entered the jalsa ghar, an unbidden smile blooming across her face to welcome him.

Court Performer! Y/N Who nearly slips on the rain-soaked marble steps one evening, only for the Naib Nawab to catch her by the wrist and wrap his arm around her waist before she can fall. His hand lingering for longer than instincts allow. And though neither of them said a word, she finds herself unable to forget the way he had looked at her, as though they were simply Uzair and Y/N, not a Naib Nawab and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who finally breaks every rule he had imposed upon himself after she confesses that the palace has started to feel like a peaceful sanctuary because of him. Unable to fight his heart any longer, he cupped her face with slow hands and kissed her beneath the lantern-lit arches of his private Jalsa ghar. His lips hovered gently over hers to seek permission, and the moment she moved her lips closer— confessing everything she never dared to put into words. He deepened the kiss, turning all his restraint into love and pouring it into that one soft, deep kiss, filled with longing.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who freezes in the doorway upon finding his younger brother standing far too close to a court performer, his hands still cupping her face, softly.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who has faced angry ministers, British officers, and political rivals without flinching.... yet he feels his stomach sink the moment he meets his brother's disappointed eyes.

Court Performer! Y/N who immediately steps away and lowers her gaze, knowing exactly how this must have appeared to bade Nawab Sahab. 

Bade Nawab! Rehman who believes Y/N has carefully earned Uzair's trust, all in the hope of becoming his future Begum to enjoy a life of riches.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who reminds Uzair that history is filled with nobles ruined by women who knew exactly how to charm powerful men.

Court Performer! Y/N Who overhears enough of the conversation to realize that Bade Nawab genuinely believes she's after wealth, titles, and status. And left the palace before anyone could notice the tears she refused to shed.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who orders Y/N's troupe to never accept invitations to the Naib Nawab's private mehfils, ever again.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who says nothing while his brother speaks, not because he agrees, but because every word of protest would only make Y/N's life difficult. And continued hosting his private mehfils to look normal. But now the music feels unbearably hollow, every ghazal reminding him of that one voice who no longer sings for him.

Court Performer! Y/N who still bows before the royal family during public performances, yet never once lifts her eyes towards the Naib Nawab again. Who couldn't help but adore her from a distance, with eyes filled with longing.

Court Performer!Y/N who has barely stepped out of the palace after another court performance when one of Bade Nawab Sahab's personal mulazims quietly stops her. "His Highness wishes to speak with you... alone." Her heart immediately sinks. Somehow, she knows this has nothing to do with music.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who deliberately waits until Uzair has gone to the treasury for the day's work, before summoning her. He knows his younger brother well enough to understand that Uzair would never allow this conversation to happen if he were present.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who speaks before he hears her side, he quietly mentions her mother's name... then her younger brother's. He never explicitly threatens them, but the meaning behind his words is unmistakable. "Some lives are far more fragile than others Y/N. Don't force me to become the reason yours falls apart."

Court Performer!Y/N who had walked into the room prepared to defend her love for Uzair with everything she had. The moment her family is brought into it, however, every argument dies on her tongue, replaced by a silence so heavy it hurts to breathe.

Court Performer!Y/N who quietly lowers her head and agrees to Bade Nawab Sahab's conditions without attempting to bargain or defend herself. If losing the man she loved meant her mother and little brother would remain safe, then she'd bear that heartbreak a thousand times over.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is almost taken aback by how quickly she agrees. He had expected tears, arguments... perhaps even defiance, women who aspire for easy money has done that plenty of times before him. But not Y/N. Instead, she simply folds her hands, thanks him for his time, and leaves with a smile so painfully forced that it lingers in his mind long after she's gone.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who had grown used to loving her from afar. He'd sit through every public mehfil pretending to listen to the music while secretly stealing glances at her whenever she danced. So when another performer stepped into her place one evening, he frowned in quiet confusion, assuming she must simply be unwell.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who keeps expecting her to return the following evening... then the one after that... and the one after that. Days quietly turn into weeks, yet her place amongst the troupe remains painfully empty.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finally pulls the the troupe leader aside after a court performance and asks her where Y/N is? The woman lowers her gaze before quietly admitting,”I'm afraid she won't be returning to perform,Huzoor. She has left the troupe”and for the first time since Rehman's orders, genuine worry begins replacing his quiet longing.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never questioned his brother's decision to end the private performances, but he cannot accept Y/N vanishing without a word. Every explanation he comes up with feels wrong... because if she'd truly wanted to leave, she would've at least said goodbye.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who quietly questions everyone who might know where Y/N has gone. But every answer is the same. They either know nothing.... or pretend they don't. And eventually begins asking questions without saying her name. "Has one of the court performers fallen ill?" "Has anyone left the city recently?" hoping for someone to unknowingly reveal the truth. But no one did. So at the end he even sent his guards to fetch her whereabouts, but each of them returned empty handed.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who still attends every council meeting and signs hundreds of documents regarding state matters, but no longer argues over figures or catches mistakes before anyone else. The ministers quietly exchange worried glances, as the man once known for noticing every detail is now staring through reports without truly reading them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who cancels every private mehfil, saying he has grown too occupied with matters of the state. But in reality he just cannot bring himself to listen to ghazals anymore, because every verse reminds him of conversations he had with that one person who is no longer there to finish them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who barely sleeps a few hours, skips meals without noticing, and buries himself in work he can no longer concentrate on. And within weeks the quiet grief he was carrying in his heart, started taking a visible toll on him. And then came a point, when even the palace hakim was failing to cure him.... because no medicine can cure a heart that is slowly breaking.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is the first to notice how loosely Uzair's sherwanis now fit and how often he suppresses a cough during meetings. For the first time since forbidding the relationship, doubt quietly begins settling in his heart.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who finally gave up and collapsed during a council meeting, leaving the entire court in stunned silence.

Court Performer! Y/N who has done everything in her power to keep her promise. She avoids the palace, avoids asking about him, even changes the routes she takes through the city. Then one evening, while buying medicine for her mother, she overhears two palace servants whispering that the Naib Nawab has fallen gravely ill. And then spent the entire night convincing herself she has no right to go to him, only to realise that love has never once listened to reason. And for the first time since leaving the palace, she finally broke down, regretting that she didn't inform Uzair sahab about her decision.

Court Performer!Y/N who finally arrives at the palace gates breathless, having crossed all the streets without once stopping to catch her breath. Forgetting every rule of etiquette she had spent years learning and following, caring only that she reaches him as soon as possible.

Court Performer!Y/N who rushes to the palace gates without a second thought, only for the guards to stop her. They recognized her instantly, but Bade Nawab Sahab's orders are Patthar ki lakeer(written in stone). No matter what, they cannot let her through.

Court Performer! Y/N who pleads that she has no intention of causing trouble, only wishing to see the Naib Nawab for a single moment. Yet the guards remain unmoved.

Court Performer!Y/N who begs the guards to let her pass, her voice trembling and breaking more with every passing moment. Tears stream freely down her face as she struggles against the guards, caring little for the curious eyes gathering around her. As she kept on pleading through broken sobs.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who hears the disturbance from the palace courtyard and walks out, expecting to find an unruly visitor. Instead, he finds Y/N on her knees before the guards, her hands folded as she pleads desperately. He watched in silence before announcing his presence, noticing that she didn't even look at him. Her eyes remain fixed on the palace doors, as though nothing else in the world matters.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who suddenly finds himself, mentally travelling years in the past, remembering the countless doors he had knocked on, the objections he had endured, and the desperation he had once felt just to marry Ulfat. For the first time, he realizes the expression on Y/N's tear-stained face is painfully familiar.... because he had once worn it himself. And understood with quiet shame that no one, who is chasing wealth would ever stand weeping at palace gates, willing to sacrifice every ounce of dignity for the chance to see the man they love.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who finally sees the truth, he had been too blinded by his anger and classist mentality to notice. If Y/N had wanted riches or status, she would've fought his conditions months ago. Instead, she had disappeared without any sign of protest, choosing heartbreak over putting her family or Uzair in danger. And realized that every decision she had made had been an act of love, not ambition. He quietly regrets mistaking her silence for guilt, when in truth, it had been her sacrifice for her love and loved ones.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who finally breaks the heavy silence with a single command "Let her through." The guards step aside without another word, watching Y/N disappear into the palace almost immediately. 

Court Performer!Y/N who did not stop to catch her breath even once as she raced through the palace corridors. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her heart pounding so loudly that she barely heard the servants calling after her. The only thing that matters is reaching him, and the moment she steps into his chamber, she freezes. 

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who had always carried himself with such dignity now lies pale against the bed, his face devoid of its usual warmth. Y/N gently brushed his hair away from his forehead, her fingers shivering slightly "U–Uzair, please wake up, see I'm back. P–pl–lease wake up and s–scold me for leaving you."

Naib Nawab!Uzair who moved almost faintly at the familiar softness of a voice he had spent uncountable days convincing himself, he will never be able to hear again. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Y/N sitting beside him, her hand wrapped around his, tears slipping silently down her cheeks in two parallel rivers of agony and yearning. For a second he believed he's having some crazy fever dream, until she smiled through those tears and kissed his hand with her quivering lips. His fingers weakly tightened around hers before he whispers, almost afraid the moment might disappear.... she might disappear again "You came."

Court Performer!Y/N Who lets out a watery laugh and nods frantically, unable to stop her tears. "You weren't waking up, sleeping like kumbhkaran, so I had to come."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who watches the reunion from the doorway in complete silence. There were no grand confessions, no dramatic embraces, only two souls finding their way back to each other. Somehow, that quiet devotion affected him more than any dramatic declaration ever could. He quietly closed the chamber doors behind him before walking away, understanding that some moments, sacred like this reunion, deserve no witnesses, especially when he's the one who caused the separation.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who visits Uzair after he has recovered enough to sit up and talk. For a long moment, neither of the brothers broke the silence. Then with the faintest smile, Rehman simply said "Bring her to me and Ulfat, this time as the woman you wish to spend your life with."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who later seeks Y/N himself, not as the ruler of the state, but as an elder brother who owes her an apology. "I mistook your love for ambition" he admits quietly. "Forgive an old man Y/N, who allowed the fear to cloud his judgment." Y/N quickly shook her head and gently assured him that neither she nor Uzair hold any grudges against him. They both understood that everything he had done was out of the fierce, unwavering love he has for his younger brother.

Bade Nawab!Rehman Who announced before the entire gathering that Y/N shall always be respected by everyone with the same respect she has earned through her grace and unwavering heart. He happily declared that she was soon going to become an integral part of the Nawab family, because Uzair and Y/N would be married once Uzair had fully recovered. From that day onwards, no one dares question her place beside the Naib Nawab, and no one ever will.

The Nawab!Family Who celebrated Uzair and Y/N's wedding wholeheartedly. The palace echoed with laughter, music, and blessings, but no one was happier than the eldest Nawabzade, Naieem, who proudly declared to anyone willing to listen that he had been blessed with the most beautiful chachi in the whole world.

The Nawab! Family Who welcomed the younger Nawabzade with tears of happiness, and Rehman urged Y/N to name him. She felt overwhelmed with love and respect and softly whispered the name "Faisal." Making the tiny infant let out the sweetest smile, as though he too approved the name chosen for him. 

The Nawab Family who distributed the finest sweets across the entire city, because the Naib Nawab and his beloved Begum were expecting their first child. Surrounded by so much love and care, Y/N often found herself wondering if it was all a dream. Because she had never once imagined a family that would care for her so much, making her feel cherished every single day. 

The Nawab family who soon welcomed the first Nawabzadi of the family, lovingly named Dua by Ulfat. From the very moment she was born, she had her Bade Abba Rehman wrapped around her tiny little finger, and there wasn't a single wish of hers that he could ever refuse. 

The Nawab family Who stood together as one during every storm, and found the happiness they deserved. Their home remained filled with love, laughter, music, and the quiet comfort of knowing they had found exactly where they belonged, with one another.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

And then he held her face in his palm, softly kissing her.  The kiss deepened slowly, tentatively at first, like testing water before a dip. Her lips parted against his, and he tasted the salt of tears she'd long since dried. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, tilting her head back just enough to fit his mouth more fully against hers.

Y/N's fingers curled into the stiff fabric of his uniform, bunching the olive green fabric at his shoulders. The distant celebration outside faded into nothing; the music, the laughter, the firecrackers, all of it swallowed by the wet sound of their mouths meeting, separating, meeting again.

"You have no idea," he breathed against her lips, "how many nights I laid awake thinking about you.. thinking about this..."

"Mhmm? Show me, then soldier" she whispered back, her voice husky with want.

His hands slid down her back, gripping the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt the hard press of his belt buckle against her stomach, the warmth of his body through the thick fabric. Her fingers found the buttons of his unifirm, working them open with trembling urgency.

He broke the kiss to help her, shrugging off the uniform jacket and letting it fall to the floor. His undershirt came next, pulled over his head in one swift motion. She drank him in, the broad shoulders, the defined chest, the faint tan line where his collar usually sat. New scars she didn't recognize. A thin white line across his ribs, a darker patch of healed skin near his collarbone.

She reached out, her fingertups tracing the scar near his collarbone before sliding down his chest. Her hand flattened over his heart, feeling it race beneath her palm. Then she pushed him gently backward until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell down letting out an oomf.

Y/N climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her thighs pressed against the coarse fabric of his trousers. She could feel him already hard beneath the layers, pressing insistently against her. She pulled her salwar down and settled on his lap, and he groaned when her bare thighs made contact with his hips.

"Fuck, I missed you," he muttered, his hands finding her waist, sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her kameez.

She rolled her hips against him deliberately, watching his jaw tighten. His hands moved to remove her kameez, fumbling momentarily before she covered his fingers with hers.

"Let me," she said softly.

She undid the dori, and swung the kameez over her head in a swift motion, and unclipped her bra before throwing it on the floor. His breath caught at the sight of her bare chest, her nipples already stiff in the cool room air.

His hands came up immediately, cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking over her nipples in featherlight circles. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. He leaned forward, taking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking across the sensitive peak before sucking gently.

"Jassi..." she gasped, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his hand never stopping its movement on the first. When he pulled back, her skin was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes lidded with desire.

He guided her hips against his, the friction building through the layers of fabric separating them. She reached down between them, her fingers finding the buckle of his belt, working it open with practiced ease. The zipper came next, and she could feel the heat of him through his boxers as she freed him.

She didn't want to rush, she wanted to slide off of his lap and kneel before him, and take his throbbing cock in her mouth and have a taste, but time was short and they needed to leave for his place soon.

Jaskirat knew that too, so without wasting any time, he grabbed her waist and pulled her onto the bed with him, rolling so she was beneath him. His body covered hers, the weight of him familiar and grounding. He kissed her deeply, she wrapped her legs around his waist, arching up against him.

His cock pressed against her wetness, sliding through her slick folds without entering. He teased her, dragging the tip along her entrance, circling her clit, making her gasp and writhe beneath him.

"Please," she begged, nails digging into his shoulders. "Jaskirat, please."

He lined himself up and pushed inside her slowly, watching her face as he filled her inch by inch. Her mouth fell open, her eyes fluttering closed, a long, shuddering moan escaping her throat as he seated himself fully inside her.

She was so tight around him, so warm. He stayed still for a long moment, letting her adjust...afterall it has been a year, his forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling.

"You feel like home," he whispered.

She laughed, breathless, and tightened her legs around him. "Then show me you mean it."

He pulled out almost entirely, then thrust back in with almost a choking force, moving erratically with each thrust. Her hands roamed his back, nails leaving crescent marks on his skin. Her hips rose to meet his, matching his pace, the wet sound of their bodies joining filling the room.

"Harder," she begged, her voice breaking.

He complied, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, the bed creaking beneath them. Her moans grew louder, less restrained, bouncing off the walls. His hand found her mouth and clammped on it, eyes dark with lust and longing.

"The neighbors," he reminded her gruffly.

She bit his palm, her eyes challenging him, and he almost came undone right then.

He slid his hand between them, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles as he pounded even more erratically into her. Her body tensed, her breath catching, her walls clenching around him, she was close.

Jaskirat could feel it, he rammed into her ever faster,"Let go sohni...cum for me" and following his order mixed with the plea, she came with a muffled scream against his hand. The sensation pushed him over the edge, and he groaned her name as he spilled inside her, his hips stuttering through the final waves of pleasure.

He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck, both of them breathing hard and slick with sweat. Her arms wrapped around him, her fingers combing through his damp hair.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

Finally, she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Welcome home, soldier."

He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. Against the backdrop of celebration sounds drifting in from the street, he smiled a true, unburdened smile.

"Best homecoming ever."

-------------------------------------------------------

Bonus: Nearly 30 more minutes later, the duo showed up at the Rangi house, looking too proper for what happend even a few minutes back. They immediately separated and went on their way. Y/N beeline to her mother and other women while Jaskirat walked straight past his friends.

Y/N's mother noticed that she was wearing a different suit, she frowned but said nothing, going back to her conversation with another neighbour.

Meanwhile, Pinda gave Jassi a smirk that made him flustered. And in the chaos of it all only Harleen noticed the missing button on her brother's new uniform and the very suspicious bruise peeking from Y/N's kameez.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a special inkling towards music, poetry and everything art. He can go from arguing over trade tariffs one moment to passionately debating the meaning of a painting the next. His friends often joke that he was born with one foot in the treasury and the other in a mehfil.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a terrible habit of inviting "just a few friends" over for an evening of music almost every other day, only for the gathering to stretch well past midnight because nobody ever wants to be the first to leave.

Court Performer!Y/N who bows gracefully before the many royal courts every evening with her troupe, then spends the carriage ride home mentally calculating whether this week's earnings will be enough for rent, medicine for her ailing mother and groceries.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who asks his mulazim to invite the city's most sought-after dancing troupe for his next mehfil after hearing endless praise about them from Nawab Iqbal from the neighbouring state. "If they're truly as talented as he claims," he mused, "I'd rather judge that for myself."

The Troupe Leader who's over the moon when the palace invitation arrives. Performing in the royal court is one thing, but being personally invited to entertain at one of Naib Nawab sahab's private mehfils is an honour few artists ever receive.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finds himself far more than impressed by the troupe's performance than he anticipated. Every note of the music seems to sink in perfect harmony with their movements, every step executed with precision. It is actually a performance worthy of all the praises he had heard about them.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who, despite the splendour performance happening before him, cannot seem to tear his eyes away from this particular dancer. When she moves to the left, his gaze follows without a thought. When she twirls to the right, his gaze follows just as faithfully. There was something different about her. She dances as though the music lives within her, with no hesitation, no desperate need to impress anyone, just the joy of someone utterly lost in the art she performs. And for some reason he was utterly captivated by that.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who silently wished the performance to stretch a little longer. And when it finally ended, he generously rewarded the entire troupe himself with gold, pearls, and money, leaving everyone surprised. But the bigger surprise was that for the very first time, he praised the artists even after the performance had ended long ago, a rare honour from him that left everyone in quiet astonishment.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who without drawing anyone's attention, quietly placed a slightly heavier pouch of gold coins into Y/N's hands. The gesture was so natural, that for a brief moment she wondered if he had made a mistake. But the doubt faded when he looked at her and said in his calm, solemn voice "You are a remarkable artist." Y/N accepted the praise with quiet grace, bowing her head respectfully "Aapka shukriya, Naib Nawab Sahab." (Thank you, Naib Nawab sir)

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who later summoned the troupe leader and, much to her surprise requested that Y/N be assigned to perform exclusively for him. With a simple explanation, that he had been impressed by her skills and graceful sincerity with which she dances.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who left the troupe leader pleasantly astonished by his request. Still, she agreed without any hesitation as he placed two heavy pouches of gold coins in front of her. Not that she was in any position to question the Naib Nawab's wishes in the first place.

Court Performer!Y/N who soon finds herself becoming a familiar face within the palace corridors. Before long, the guards greet her with respectful nods, the servants no longer needing to ask for her name as they quietly escort her towards Naib Nawab Sahab's private jalsa ghar.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who, despite insisting that her visits remain strictly for artistic performances, somehow always finds himself rearranging his schedule so that no meeting, minister or merchant could interrupt the hour she'd be at the palace.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never once asks her to perform anything she isn't comfortable with. He simply tells her to sing or dance whichever composition she enjoys most, believing an artist performs best when their heart chooses the piece rather than their patron.

Court Performer!Y/N who addresses him with unwavering respect every single visit. Every conversation begins and ends with a polite bow and "Naib Nawab Sahab," neither of them daring to step beyond the formal boundaries expected between a nobleman and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who over the months, starts asking questions before each performance. At first it's about the raag she chose to perform that day or the poet behind the ghazal, but gradually the conversations slowly wandered towards her ustad, her childhood and what first made her fall in love with music.

Court Performer!Y/N who is quietly surprised to find that the Naib Nawab actually listens to her answers. Most nobles only cared to be entertained, but not him. He listened with the same attention whether she was explaining a difficult taan or recalling a fond memory from years ago.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who gradually begins requesting one final ghazal, then one question about the poet, then another about the composition itself. Before either of them realises it, the music has long since ended while their conversation continues well into the evening.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually notices she spends more time sitting across from the Naib Nawab with a cup of sharbat in her hands than she does actually singing or dancing for him. She isn't quite sure when their meetings stopped feeling less like performances and more like conversations and actual friendship.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually stops apologising every time she disagrees with the Naib Nawab's interpretation of a poem. "I still think the poet meant longing, not regret," she'd insist, only to earn an amused shake of his head as he replied, "Then perhaps we'll have to agree that the poet has disappointed one of us.”

Naib Nawab! Uzair who gradually began to notice the smallest things about Y/N before she ever mentions them, the slightest strain in her voice after a long performance, the missing anklet she had worn for months, the ragas that brings a bright smile to her face, as if paying attention to her had simply become his second nature. Before he even realizes it, he started to set aside the sweetest mangoes, a newly written ghazal or a poem because "Y/N would like it."

Court Performer! Y/N Who slowly began looking forward to her evenings at the palace. She told herself it was because the Naib Nawab truly appreciated her art, but her heart knew better. Somehow, she always found herself waiting for him, no matter how late he was. And no matter how demanding the affairs of the state became, he always came. And in no time, she started to recognize his footsteps long before he entered the jalsa ghar, an unbidden smile blooming across her face to welcome him.

Court Performer! Y/N Who nearly slips on the rain-soaked marble steps one evening, only for the Naib Nawab to catch her by the wrist and wrap his arm around her waist before she can fall. His hand lingering for longer than instincts allow. And though neither of them said a word, she finds herself unable to forget the way he had looked at her, as though they were simply Uzair and Y/N, not a Naib Nawab and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who finally breaks every rule he had imposed upon himself after she confesses that the palace has started to feel like a peaceful sanctuary because of him. Unable to fight his heart any longer, he cupped her face with slow hands and kissed her beneath the lantern-lit arches of his private Jalsa ghar. His lips hovered gently over hers to seek permission, and the moment she moved her lips closer— confessing everything she never dared to put into words. He deepened the kiss, turning all his restraint into love and pouring it into that one soft, deep kiss, filled with longing.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who freezes in the doorway upon finding his younger brother standing far too close to a court performer, his hands still cupping her face, softly.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who has faced angry ministers, British officers, and political rivals without flinching.... yet he feels his stomach sink the moment he meets his brother's disappointed eyes.

Court Performer! Y/N who immediately steps away and lowers her gaze, knowing exactly how this must have appeared to bade Nawab Sahab. 

Bade Nawab! Rehman who believes Y/N has carefully earned Uzair's trust, all in the hope of becoming his future Begum to enjoy a life of riches.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who reminds Uzair that history is filled with nobles ruined by women who knew exactly how to charm powerful men.

Court Performer! Y/N Who overhears enough of the conversation to realize that Bade Nawab genuinely believes she's after wealth, titles, and status. And left the palace before anyone could notice the tears she refused to shed.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who orders Y/N's troupe to never accept invitations to the Naib Nawab's private mehfils, ever again.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who says nothing while his brother speaks, not because he agrees, but because every word of protest would only make Y/N's life difficult. And continued hosting his private mehfils to look normal. But now the music feels unbearably hollow, every ghazal reminding him of that one voice who no longer sings for him.

Court Performer! Y/N who still bows before the royal family during public performances, yet never once lifts her eyes towards the Naib Nawab again. Who couldn't help but adore her from a distance, with eyes filled with longing.

Court Performer!Y/N who has barely stepped out of the palace after another court performance when one of Bade Nawab Sahab's personal mulazims quietly stops her. "His Highness wishes to speak with you... alone." Her heart immediately sinks. Somehow, she knows this has nothing to do with music.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who deliberately waits until Uzair has gone to the treasury for the day's work, before summoning her. He knows his younger brother well enough to understand that Uzair would never allow this conversation to happen if he were present.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who speaks before he hears her side, he quietly mentions her mother's name... then her younger brother's. He never explicitly threatens them, but the meaning behind his words is unmistakable. "Some lives are far more fragile than others Y/N. Don't force me to become the reason yours falls apart."

Court Performer!Y/N who had walked into the room prepared to defend her love for Uzair with everything she had. The moment her family is brought into it, however, every argument dies on her tongue, replaced by a silence so heavy it hurts to breathe.

Court Performer!Y/N who quietly lowers her head and agrees to Bade Nawab Sahab's conditions without attempting to bargain or defend herself. If losing the man she loved meant her mother and little brother would remain safe, then she'd bear that heartbreak a thousand times over.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is almost taken aback by how quickly she agrees. He had expected tears, arguments... perhaps even defiance, women who aspire for easy money has done that plenty of times before him. But not Y/N. Instead, she simply folds her hands, thanks him for his time, and leaves with a smile so painfully forced that it lingers in his mind long after she's gone.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who had grown used to loving her from afar. He'd sit through every public mehfil pretending to listen to the music while secretly stealing glances at her whenever she danced. So when another performer stepped into her place one evening, he frowned in quiet confusion, assuming she must simply be unwell.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who keeps expecting her to return the following evening... then the one after that... and the one after that. Days quietly turn into weeks, yet her place amongst the troupe remains painfully empty.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finally pulls the the troupe leader aside after a court performance and asks her where Y/N is? The woman lowers her gaze before quietly admitting,”I'm afraid she won't be returning to perform,Huzoor. She has left the troupe”and for the first time since Rehman's orders, genuine worry begins replacing his quiet longing.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never questioned his brother's decision to end the private performances, but he cannot accept Y/N vanishing without a word. Every explanation he comes up with feels wrong... because if she'd truly wanted to leave, she would've at least said goodbye.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who quietly questions everyone who might know where Y/N has gone. But every answer is the same. They either know nothing.... or pretend they don't. And eventually begins asking questions without saying her name. "Has one of the court performers fallen ill?" "Has anyone left the city recently?" hoping for someone to unknowingly reveal the truth. But no one did. So at the end he even sent his guards to fetch her whereabouts, but each of them returned empty handed.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who still attends every council meeting and signs hundreds of documents regarding state matters, but no longer argues over figures or catches mistakes before anyone else. The ministers quietly exchange worried glances, as the man once known for noticing every detail is now staring through reports without truly reading them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who cancels every private mehfil, saying he has grown too occupied with matters of the state. But in reality he just cannot bring himself to listen to ghazals anymore, because every verse reminds him of conversations he had with that one person who is no longer there to finish them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who barely sleeps a few hours, skips meals without noticing, and buries himself in work he can no longer concentrate on. And within weeks the quiet grief he was carrying in his heart, started taking a visible toll on him. And then came a point, when even the palace hakim was failing to cure him.... because no medicine can cure a heart that is slowly breaking.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is the first to notice how loosely Uzair's sherwanis now fit and how often he suppresses a cough during meetings. For the first time since forbidding the relationship, doubt quietly begins settling in his heart.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who finally gave up and collapsed during a council meeting, leaving the entire court in stunned silence.

Court Performer! Y/N who has done everything in her power to keep her promise. She avoids the palace, avoids asking about him, even changes the routes she takes through the city. Then one evening, while buying medicine for her mother, she overhears two palace servants whispering that the Naib Nawab has fallen gravely ill. And then spent the entire night convincing herself she has no right to go to him, only to realise that love has never once listened to reason. And for the first time since leaving the palace, she finally broke down, regretting that she didn't inform Uzair sahab about her decision.

Court Performer!Y/N who finally arrives at the palace gates breathless, having crossed all the streets without once stopping to catch her breath. Forgetting every rule of etiquette she had spent years learning and following, caring only that she reaches him as soon as possible.

Court Performer!Y/N who rushes to the palace gates without a second thought, only for the guards to stop her. They recognized her instantly, but Bade Nawab Sahab's orders are Patthar ki lakeer(written in stone). No matter what, they cannot let her through.

Court Performer! Y/N who pleads that she has no intention of causing trouble, only wishing to see the Naib Nawab for a single moment. Yet the guards remain unmoved.

Court Performer!Y/N who begs the guards to let her pass, her voice trembling and breaking more with every passing moment. Tears stream freely down her face as she struggles against the guards, caring little for the curious eyes gathering around her. As she kept on pleading through broken sobs.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who hears the disturbance from the palace courtyard and walks out, expecting to find an unruly visitor. Instead, he finds Y/N on her knees before the guards, her hands folded as she pleads desperately. He watched in silence before announcing his presence, noticing that she didn't even look at him. Her eyes remain fixed on the palace doors, as though nothing else in the world matters.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who suddenly finds himself, mentally travelling years in the past, remembering the countless doors he had knocked on, the objections he had endured, and the desperation he had once felt just to marry Ulfat. For the first time, he realizes the expression on Y/N's tear-stained face is painfully familiar.... because he had once worn it himself. And understood with quiet shame that no one, who is chasing wealth would ever stand weeping at palace gates, willing to sacrifice every ounce of dignity for the chance to see the man they love.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who finally sees the truth, he had been too blinded by his anger and classist mentality to notice. If Y/N had wanted riches or status, she would've fought his conditions months ago. Instead, she had disappeared without any sign of protest, choosing heartbreak over putting her family or Uzair in danger. And realized that every decision she had made had been an act of love, not ambition. He quietly regrets mistaking her silence for guilt, when in truth, it had been her sacrifice for her love and loved ones.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who finally breaks the heavy silence with a single command "Let her through." The guards step aside without another word, watching Y/N disappear into the palace almost immediately. 

Court Performer!Y/N who did not stop to catch her breath even once as she raced through the palace corridors. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her heart pounding so loudly that she barely heard the servants calling after her. The only thing that matters is reaching him, and the moment she steps into his chamber, she freezes. 

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who had always carried himself with such dignity now lies pale against the bed, his face devoid of its usual warmth. Y/N gently brushed his hair away from his forehead, her fingers shivering slightly "U–Uzair, please wake up, see I'm back. P–pl–lease wake up and s–scold me for leaving you."

Naib Nawab!Uzair who moved almost faintly at the familiar softness of a voice he had spent uncountable days convincing himself, he will never be able to hear again. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Y/N sitting beside him, her hand wrapped around his, tears slipping silently down her cheeks in two parallel rivers of agony and yearning. For a second he believed he's having some crazy fever dream, until she smiled through those tears and kissed his hand with her quivering lips. His fingers weakly tightened around hers before he whispers, almost afraid the moment might disappear.... she might disappear again "You came."

Court Performer!Y/N Who lets out a watery laugh and nods frantically, unable to stop her tears. "You weren't waking up, sleeping like kumbhkaran, so I had to come."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who watches the reunion from the doorway in complete silence. There were no grand confessions, no dramatic embraces, only two souls finding their way back to each other. Somehow, that quiet devotion affected him more than any dramatic declaration ever could. He quietly closed the chamber doors behind him before walking away, understanding that some moments, sacred like this reunion, deserve no witnesses, especially when he's the one who caused the separation.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who visits Uzair after he has recovered enough to sit up and talk. For a long moment, neither of the brothers broke the silence. Then with the faintest smile, Rehman simply said "Bring her to me and Ulfat, this time as the woman you wish to spend your life with."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who later seeks Y/N himself, not as the ruler of the state, but as an elder brother who owes her an apology. "I mistook your love for ambition" he admits quietly. "Forgive an old man Y/N, who allowed the fear to cloud his judgment." Y/N quickly shook her head and gently assured him that neither she nor Uzair hold any grudges against him. They both understood that everything he had done was out of the fierce, unwavering love he has for his younger brother.

Bade Nawab!Rehman Who announced before the entire gathering that Y/N shall always be respected by everyone with the same respect she has earned through her grace and unwavering heart. He happily declared that she was soon going to become an integral part of the Nawab family, because Uzair and Y/N would be married once Uzair had fully recovered. From that day onwards, no one dares question her place beside the Naib Nawab, and no one ever will.

The Nawab!Family Who celebrated Uzair and Y/N's wedding wholeheartedly. The palace echoed with laughter, music, and blessings, but no one was happier than the eldest Nawabzade, Naieem, who proudly declared to anyone willing to listen that he had been blessed with the most beautiful chachi in the whole world.

The Nawab! Family Who welcomed the younger Nawabzade with tears of happiness, and Rehman urged Y/N to name him. She felt overwhelmed with love and respect and softly whispered the name "Faisal." Making the tiny infant let out the sweetest smile, as though he too approved the name chosen for him. 

The Nawab Family who distributed the finest sweets across the entire city, because the Naib Nawab and his beloved Begum were expecting their first child. Surrounded by so much love and care, Y/N often found herself wondering if it was all a dream. Because she had never once imagined a family that would care for her so much, making her feel cherished every single day. 

The Nawab family who soon welcomed the first Nawabzadi of the family, lovingly named Dua by Ulfat. From the very moment she was born, she had her Bade Abba Rehman wrapped around her tiny little finger, and there wasn't a single wish of hers that he could ever refuse. 

The Nawab family Who stood together as one during every storm, and found the happiness they deserved. Their home remained filled with love, laughter, music, and the quiet comfort of knowing they had found exactly where they belonged, with one another.

The Head Baker: Ulfat Baloch🌸

Arrives before sunrise every day.

Responsible for breads, croissants, cheesecakes, cookies, and all signature bakes.

Takes baking very seriously.(ofc)

Will silently judge anyone who squeezes a croissant.

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The Sous chef: Donga🍓

Ulfat's apprentice.

Decorates cakes and desserts and makes the best lasagna.

Usually covered in flour and frosting.(Definitely not because he was stealing sampling the pastries again)

Refuses to wear a head cap while baking. Because in his defence he has like zero hair-😭

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The Brew master: Hamza Ali Mazari☕️

The café's coffee and chai expert.

Certified barista (thanks to his masters in brewing science from Aalam doodh soda University😳).

Constantly experiments with new drinks.

If someone compliments a latte, he pretends to be cool about it but is secretly thrilled.

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The café manager (and server): Uzair Baloch📋

Runs the café with the owner(Rehman)

Handles inventory, staff schedules, customer complaints, finances, and ordering supplies.

Still serves customers because he genuinely enjoys it.

Knows almost every regular by name and remembers their usual order.(specially a certain pretty lady who sits in the corner always ordering two pastries for herself)

pic credits: @miraclejin1204

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Resident Cat: Suki DaKat 😼

Official title: Customer Relations Manager.

Unofficial title: The actual owner of the Café

Chooses one customer every day to bless with his presence.

Rehman insists he doesn't spoil the cat.

The staff have photographic evidence proving otherwise.

(Bro's got the kasainuma smile as well😭)

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Regular Customer!Y/N who has been coming to Mehfil for so long that nobody actually remembers when she became a regular. Some mornings it's before university, grabbing a quick cup of coffee before class. Other evenings it's after lectures with her books still peeking out of her tote bag. And on weekends she's there simply because nowhere else quite matches the comfort and vibes of Mehfil.

Regular Customer!Y/N who has an unreserved permanent table. It's the little corner by the window overlooking the streets and the docks beyond it, tucked just in the cozy corner away from the evening crowd where she can study in peace while still listening to the local band perform every night.

Store Manager!Uzair who, after her 3rd day at the cafe, starts noticing the moment she walks through the door without ever making it obvious. He'll be halfway through counting inventory or helping another customer, yet somehow he's always be the first one to greet her with a quiet smile and a soft, "The usual?"

Store Manager!Uzair who memorized her order months ago. One Kashmiri noon chai and whichever pastry she'd convinced herself she'd "only have a bite" of before inevitably finishing the entire thing , and ordering a second.

Store Manager!Uzair who always manages to sneak something complimentary onto her tray. Sometimes it's a pistachio croissant, sometimes a slice of kunafa cheesecake, sometimes a freshly baked cookie that "would've gone to waste anyway," even though everybody in the café knows that's a complete lie.

Regular Customer!Y/N who genuinely believes Mehfil just treats all their regulars like this. She tells her classmates all the time that it's the nicest café in Lyari, never realizing the complimentary pastries have absolutely nothing to do with customer loyalty.

Store Manager!Uzair who keeps telling himself it's simply good business. Regular customers recommend cafés to their friends, happy customers come back... and none of those reasons explain why he's never once slipped a complimentary pastry onto anyone else's tray.

Head Baker!Ulfat who starts noticing the pastry count never matches her inventory sheets anymore. One pistachio croissant disappears almost every afternoon without fail, followed by the occasional cheesecake slice or chocolate chip or coconut cookies.

Head Baker!Ulfat who immediately assumes Donga is the culprit. The poor man can't even decorate a cheesecake in peace before she's asking whether he's been "sampling" the display again.

Sous Chef!Donga who sputters abd spends an entire hour defending his innocence. He swears on every croissant in the bakery that he hasn't touched a single cheesecake or cookie, but absolutely nobody believes him.

Head Baker!Ulfat who corners Donga in the kitchen one afternoon with the inventory sheet still clutched in her hand. She asks where the missing pastries are going, and Donga, without a single thought in his brain, points through the serving window towards Uzair.

Sous Chef!Donga who accidentally exposes Uzair in under five seconds. "Uzair bhai gives them to that pretty girl by the window." Then immediately goes back to piping cream onto éclairs, blissfully ignoring the silence caused by the bomb he dropped.

Store Manager!Uzair who realizes he's been caught the second Ulfat walks out into the register, eyes narrowed at him. He's suddenly very interested in reorganizing the coffee beans that definitely did not need reorganizing.

Head Baker!Ulfat who drags Uzair into the kitchen by his ear. She doesn't care that customers might see, she wants to know why weeks' worth of perfectly made croissants have mysteriously vanished into one very specific customer's tray.

Store Manager!Uzair who completely blanks the second Ulfat asks him to explain himself. He starts rambling and stuttering about customer retention, loyalty, regulars, positive experiences and free marketing until even he realizes he isn't making any sense.

Head Baker!Ulfat who simply folds her arms and asks, "and...?."(there's always an and)

Store Manager!Uzair who sighs in defeat after thirty seconds of him rambling pathetic excuses and knows that he's been caught, "andshescuteandimighthaveacrushonher."

Head Baker!Ulfat who pinches the bridge of her nose. "Then ask the poor girl out. Stop bribing her with my pastries. Do you even knkw how expensive coconuts are in Karachi?!."

Brewmaster!Hamza who overhears the entire conversation while steaming milk. Doesn't even bother looking up before muttering, "Bhabi, I've literally been telling him that for months."

Brewmaster!Hamza who somehow becomes Uzair's biggest supporter and biggest bully at exactly the same time. Every time Y/N walks through the door, he quietly elbows Uzair in the ribs before disappearing into the back with the smuggest smirk known to mankind. And everytime Uzair would mutter profanities under his breath. He should have never told his stupid best friend about the crush. Ugh.

Store Manager!Uzair who somehow becomes twice as awkward after everyone finds out about his crush. He starts dropping spoons, forgetting table numbers and nearly burning himself on freshly brewed coffee whenever she smiles at him.

Regular Customer!Y/N who mistakes every ounce of his awkwardness for simple shyness. She just assumes he's naturally quiet since he hasn't really tried to intimate any conversation with her ever, she never realizes the poor man has forgotten how to function every time she even looks at him now.

Resident Cat!Suki who has more charm and game than Uzair, has found a permamnwt way to get pets and cuddles everytime Y/N was at the café. He waits at the café's window sill until she arrives and trots over the second she enters, and spends the next three hours curled up in her lap while she studies.

Regular Customer!Y/N who starts carrying cat treats in her bag specifically for Suki. She tells herself they're "just in case," even though everybody in Mehfil has watched her buy a fresh packet every single week for the furry menace.

Resident Cat!Suki who absolutely adores Y/N and absolutely cannot stand Uzair when Y/N is with him. Every time the poor man walks over with her order, Suki lifts his head just long enough to hiss before curling back up in her lap like nothing happened.

Brewmaster!Hamza who becomes convinced Suki can smell a man with a crush from across the room. Uzair insists cats don't work like that. Hamza insists Suki Dakat is living proof that they do.

Owner!Rehman who drops by the flagship one afternoon to check on business. He notices the steady crowd, the familiar university student by the window... and yet another complimentary pastry sitting on her tray.

Owner!Rehman who doesn't need anybody to explain what's happening. One look from his wife a cross the kitchen counter, and he knows what's going on. Telepathy comes naturally after a certain point in marriage,

Owner!Rehman who says absolutely nothing. He simply gives Uzair one long, knowing look before walking into his office at the back of he café, somehow making his younger brother feel more embarrassed than an entire lecture ever could.

The entire Mehfil staff who slowly turn Uzair's love life into a team project without letting either of them realise it. Ulfat "accidentally" bakes a heart shaped pistachio pastry, Hamza keeps making the wrong drink for Uzair to go over to her table atkeast twice before he makes it right, Donga offers encouraging thumbs ups from behind the pastry display.

Resident Cat!Suki who chooses the exact day Uzair finally gathers the courage to confess... to not hiss at him for once. Hamza later swears even the cat had finally decided to help.

Store Manager!Uzair who spends nearly ten minutes rehearsing what he's going to say before walking over to her table. The speech disappears from his brain the second she looks up and smiles.

Store Manager!Uzair who somehow manages to ask if she'd like to have dinner with him despite sounding like every word physically pains him to say. He's already preparing himself for rejection before she's even had a chance to answer.

Regular Customer!Y/N who blinks at him in complete confusion before laughing softly. She'd honestly been daydreaming about the sweet café manager who kept giving her free pastries finally asking her out.

Regular Customer!Y/N who admits she's partly kept coming back for him. somewhere between complimentary croissants and remembering her order, she'd developed a hopeless crush on the tall, sweet and handsome store manager too.

Store Manager!Uzair who spends months trying to win her over with free pastries... only to discover she'd already fallen for him long before he'd found the courage to ask.

Head Baker!Ulfat who let's all the staff have a piece of their favourite pastry in honour of Uzair finally growing a pair and asking his crush out.

-------------------------------------------------------

---

By the time Rehman left, the evening sun had begun sinking behind the rooftops.

Mr. L/N barely waited for the front gate to close before calling into the house.

"Begum!"

His wife emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on the end of her dupatta.

"What happened?"

"Call Y/N downstairs."

She frowned, "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is excellent."

A minute later Y/N descended the staircase, still holding a medical textbook against her chest, "You called me, Abbu?"

Mr. L/N couldn't hide the smile on his face.

"I have wonderful news."

She looked between her parents,"What happened?"

"I've fixed your marriage!"

Her smile vanished,"...What?"

"You'll be married after your internship."

She stared at him, convinced she'd misheard.

"...To whom!?"

"Uzair Baloch."

The name hit her like cold water,"The... Baloch?"

"Rehman's cousin."

"Abbu..." She laughed nervously, "This is a joke, right?"

"It isn't."

"But..."Her heartbeat quickened.

"He's..."She stopped herself,"No, Abbu, I don't even know him!!!"

"You will after the nikaah bacche-"

"I don't want to marry some man-"

Her father frowned, "Mind your tone."

"But—"

"He comes from a respectable family."

"Respected by whom?" she blurted out, "They're gangsters!!!"

The room went silent and Mr. L/N's expression hardened immediately.

"Enough. They may do things differently from us. But don't you dare insult people who have stood by this family for years when my own brothers tried to betray me." He added softly after, "besides, they respect their women. They protect their families. And business aside...Uzair is a good young man. You'll like him."

"I don't want to like him!" The words escaped before she could stop them.

She looked desperately between them,"You've decided my marriage....without even asking me?"

Her mother's brows furrowed, "We're your parents. We know what's best. Besides You're 27! Way past the respectable age for marriage. Please just listen to your father-"

Y/N was almost ready to just walk away from all of it but then her father continued,"Once you meet him, you'll understand. He's a handsome boy."

She couldn't take this anymore.

So without another word she turned and hurried upstairs.

Neither parent followed.

Her mother just sighed,"She's frightened."

Mr. L/N waved a dismissive hand.

"She's dramatic, give her a few days. When she meets the boy...she'll come around."

Upstairs, Y/N shut her bedroom door, the click echoed through the room.

She leaned back against it, staring blankly ahead.

One sentence kept repeating in her mind.

You're getting married.

She wasn't afraid because Uzair was a stranger, and no matter how kind, handsome or patient he was,

She could never love him romantically,  the way it was expectd in a marriage because he's a man.

---

The Baloch haveli meanwhile had fallen unusually quiet after Rehman's return.

Uzair hadn't heard a single word after- "You'll be married to Y/N, Mr. L/N's daughter."

He stood in the middle of the courtyard,staring blankly at the neem tree in the centre, his mind and heart racing in an unknown fear.

Ulfat walked over to him with an unmistakable smile,"She's a very beautiful girl."

No response from Uzair.

"I've met her at one of the charity functions. She's educated too. A doctor."

Uzair swallowed the lump forming in his throat,"...Ji."

"...you'll like her." Ulfat nudged his shoulder playfully, and before he could answer, Rehman emerged from the veranda.

"There you are."

Uzair straightened instinctively,"Ji, Bhai."

"Don't fret over it right now, I spoke to her father. The nikah won't happen until she finishes her internship."

Uzair nodded.

Rehman looked at him carefully,"You've gone awfully quiet."

Uzair forced the corners of his lips upward,"It's... a lot to take in."

"It is."Rehman stepped closer, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder,"I know I made the decision quickly but trust me, I wouldn't choose someone unworthy for you, she's intelligent, kind and stubborn enough to keep you in line."

For a split second, Uzair wanted to say it.

Bhai... I can't.

Bhai... there's someone else.

The words rose to his throat.

Then died there.

How could he?

How could he stand before the man who had raised him like a son, who had protected him his entire life, and confess something that could shatter everything Rehman believed about him?

His voice came out barely above a whisper.

"...I trust you."

Rehman smiled, "I knew you would."

He squeezed Uzair's shoulder once before walking away with Ulfat in tow.

The moment they disappeared into the hallway, the smile vanished from Uzair's face. He stood there for another minute. His chest suddenly felt impossibly tight.

Without saying another word to anyone, he turned and walked toward the gate.

One of the guards called after him.

"Bhai?"

"I'm going to the factory, have some important work. Tell bhai and bhabhi to not wait up for me."

---

Across Lyari, in the quieter neighbourhood of Gulshan; Y/N didn't even remember driving. she only remembered stopping outside the Jamali residence.

The guard recognized her immediately; at this point she was a resident at the Jamali household with the amount of times she showed up there,  "Assalamualaikum, Bibi."

She barely nodded before hurrying inside, she didn't wait for permission, didn't stop to greet anyone and climbed the stairs two at a time.

The door to Yalina's bedroom flew open.

Yalina looked up from the anatomy atlas spread across her bed.

A smile had barely begun to form,"You're ear-"

Y/N crossed the room in three hurried steps and threw herself into her arms.

The force nearly knocked Yalina backwards,"...hi?"

Yalina got no answer from her, only shaking, violent, and uncontrollable shaking.

Yalina's heart dropped, she immediately wrapped both arms around her girlfriend,"Hey...calm down meri jaan, what happened?"

Y/N buried her face deeper into her shoulder, her breathing broke apart into ragged sobs,"I..." Another sob.

"I can't..."

"jaan"Yalina gently cupped the back of her head,"Look at me."

Y/N only cried harder, the tears soaked through Yalina's shirt.

Yalina guided her carefully onto the bed, climbing on beside her before pulling her back into another embrace,"It's okay, I'm here. Talk to me."

Her hands moved slowly through Y/N's hair, the same way she always did whenever hospital shifts became too overwhelming for Y/N.

Finally, between broken breaths, Y/N spoke,"They're getting me married."

Everything inside Yalina went still,"...What?"

Y/N clutched handfuls of her shirt desperately,"My father...He...They fixed my marriage."

Another sob ripped through her chest,"I don't want this."

"I don't..."

"I don't want anyone else."

"I only want you."

Yalina closed her eyes, for one fleeting moment, she couldn't breathe either.

Then instinct took over, she tightened her embrace, "You have me meri jaan, I'm right here."

"I should be with you."Y/N cried into her shoulder, "I should grow old with you, I should come home to you after the hospital, I should..."

Her voice cracked completely, "...I can't do this."

Yalina's own eyes burned, she refused to let herself cry.

Not now. If both of them fell apart, neither would survive tonight.

Instead, she held Y/N even tighter.

"You don't have to figure everything out tonight."

"But they're going to marry me to him."

"I know."

"I don't even know him."

"I know."

"I'll lose you."

Yalina immediately pulled back just enough to hold Y/N's face between both hands.

"No, Look at me."

Those tear-filled eyes finally met hers.

"You are not losing me. I don't care what the world says. I don't care whose daughter I am. I don't care whose daughter you are. I'm not going anywhere."

Y/N's lip trembled, "I love you."

Yalina rested their foreheads together,"I love you too."

Outside the bedroom, the rest of the Jamali household continued as usual.

Inside, their best kept secret for the last 5 years was about to get jeopardized.

---

The factory was nearly empty by the time Uzair arrived, most of the workers had already left for the evening, only a handful of trusted men remained, checking shipments before the next day's deliveries.

Hamza looked up from a workbench.

And before he could say anything, Uzair grabbed his wrist,"Come."

"Ar-"

"Now."

Something in his voice erased every trace of humour from Hamza's face.

He followed without another question.

Uzair pulled him into the small office overlooking the workshop before locking the heavy door behind them.

The room fell silent, soundproof and completely isolated from the noise outside.

Hamza turned around,"What happened?"

Uzair exploded,"My brother fixed my marriage!"

The words echoed off the walls.

Hamza froze,"...What?"

"Some burger bacchi!I've never even met her! but bhai has decided everything!"

His breathing became faster, "They're going to marry me off after her internship. I can't do this Hamze"

His breaths shortened, one after another.

Hamza crossed the room immediately clocking in on incoming panic attack from his man,"Uzair."

"I can't breathe."

"Uzair."

"I can't-"

Strong hands caught both of his shoulders,"Look at me."

Hamza gently cupped his face,"Listen to my voice."

"In."

He demonstrated a slow breath.

"Out."

Uzair tried. Failed. Again.

Hamza rested his forehead against his,"You're with me. Nothing is happening right now. Just breathe."

Another shaky inhale. Then another.

and slowly...the panic began to loosen its grip.

Uzair's eyes filled with frustrated tears,"They're taking my future away."

His voice was barely audible,"They're taking you away from me."

Hamza didn't answer, he simply pulled him into a tight embrace.

Uzair buried his face against his shoulder,"I told Bhai I'd trust him like the coward i am...what else could I say? ...I couldn't tell him."

"I know."

"I lied to him."

"I know."

Silence settled between them.

Then, after a long moment, he spoke quietly.

"We'll figure something out."

Uzair let out a humourless laugh,"How?...this society will never see us for who we are Hamze..."

Hamza didn't have an answer for that.

But as he held the man he loved close, he made himself one silent promise.

Somehow...He would find a way.

---

A week has passed since then.

Y/N buried herself in hospital duties, hoping exhaustion would leave no room for thought. Ward rounds, emergency cases, endless paperwork, sleepless nights, anything to keep her mind from wandering back to the conversation that had upended her life.

It didn't work.

Every morning, her mother would casually ask,"So... have you thought about what colour you'd like for your bridal dresses?"

Every evening, her father found another excuse to mention Uzair, "Rehman miyan says he's very responsible, He's looking after another warehouse now, such a capable young man."

Y/N smiled and nodded and quietly died a little more inside every single day.

Finally, seven days later, Mr. L/N announced over breakfast,"You're going to meet Uzair today."

She didn't even look up from her tea,"I'm not."

"You are."

"I have work-"

"I've already spoken to the hospital."

That made her head snap upward,"...You what?"

"You've been given the afternoon off."

"Abbu!"

"You'll thank me later."

"I don't want to meet him."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that."

"No." He folded his newspaper neatly. "You think you do."

Her mother smiled encouragingly,"Beta, at least meet the boy, afterall you wint be able to get to know him much during the ceremonies. And if you still don't like him afterwards..."

She exchanged a quick glance with her husband,"...then we'll see."

Y/N knew exactly what that meant. Nothing. Nothing would change.

Still...

An idea slowly formed in her head. If she couldn't convince her father...Maybe she could convince the groom.

---

The factory looked exactly as she'd imagined, large iron gates, men unloading wooden crates, forklifts rumbling across the concrete yard, the smell of machine oil and gun powder lingered heavily in the afternoon air.

A guard approached,"Bibi?"

"I'm here to meet Uzair Baloch...."

The guard immediately nodded,"This way."

She was led upstairs into a modest office overlooking the workshop floor.

Uzair stood beside the window, hands folded.

He looked up as she entered.

For a brief second...Neither spoke.

This was the man she'd supposedly spend the rest of her life with,"...Assalamualaikum."

"Wa-alaikum assalam."

Another silence.

"...Please sit."

She did. So did he.

The awkwardness was almost unbearable.

Finally Y/N cleared her throat.

"I'll be honest."

Uzair nodded,"I'd appreciate that."

"I don't want to marry you."

...

He blinked once,

Then to her utter surprise, his shoulders visibly relaxed,"...Thank God."

She stared,"What?"

"I mean-"He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly,"I don't want to marry you either."

For the first time in a week...

Y/N almost smiled,"Really?"

"Really."

She leaned forward hopefully,"Then tell Rehman bhai no."

The hope disappeared almost as quickly as it'd arrived.

Uzair looked away,"I can't."

"...Why not?"

"After my parents...he raised me. He trusts me with everything. I can't refuse him."

His voice was quiet,"I just...can't do that to him."

Y/N's own shoulders slumped,"My father won't listen either, so....we're both trapped."

Uzair laughed once. It wasn't a happy laugh.

Awkward silence filled the room once again, neither seemed to know what came next.

The ticking clock suddenly sounded unbearably loud.

Then-

A knock.

The office door opened.

A tall muscular man stepped inside carrying a file beneath one arm.

"Sorry to interrupt."

Uzair looked up, "Hamza?"

The change was immediate, the stiffness left his shoulders, the tension disappeared from his face, his expression softened in a way Y/N hadn't seen once during the entire conversation.

Uzair stood up and went near the door, the two greeted each other naturally.

A hand squeezed a shoulder.

Hamza absentmindedly adjusted the collar of Uzair's kurta while handing over the file.

"Dropping it off right nkw because you need to sign this before 12PM"

Uzair smiled,"...Thanks."

"No problem."

The interaction lasted barely twenty seconds.

Perfectly innocent. Perfectly ordinary. Two close friends.

Except...

Y/N found herself watching them far more closely than either man realized.

The way Uzair instinctively stepped closer.

The way Hamza's hand lingered for just a heartbeat too long.

The ease. The comfort. The familiarity.

It wasn't unusual between close friends.

Not really.

Yet...

Something about this felt...

Different.

Hamza finally noticed her.

"Oh."

He gave her a polite nod,"Sorry, I'll leave you two."

The door closed behind him.

And Uzair sat back down, completely oblivious.

Y/N, meanwhile...

Felt the tiniest alarm bell ring somewhere inside her head.

"...Can I ask you something?"

Uzair looked up,"Hm?"

"If this is too personal, don't answer."

"...Alright."

She hesitated, then decided honesty was easier,"I don't want to marry you...because i love somone else...what'syour reason of not wanting to marry me?"

For a long moment, he simply looked at her, and then very quietly said,"...Same."

Y/N blinked.

"You are?"

He nodded once,"I've loved someone else for years."

She watched him carefully.

His words sounded calm.

His eyes...Didn't.

They drifted, only for a second, toward the workshop outside, toward a familiar figure walking below.

Hamza.

Y/N followed his gaze, then looked back at Uzair, then back at Hamza.

Then...Everything clicked.

"...Is it him?"

Uzair nearly fell out of his chair,"W-What?"

"The man downstairs. Hamza or whatever you called him..."

"I..."

"The one you keep looking at."

"What?"

"No!"

"I mean-"

He was already shaking his head too quickly,"What are you talking about?"

"Why would I-I'm not-That's ridiculous!"

Y/N folded her arms,"Mhm."

"I mean it!"

"I'm sure you do."

"I don't like men!"

She raised an eyebrow,"You don't?"

"...No."

"You've looked out that window six times in the last three minutes."

Uzair froze,"...I have?"

"You have."

"...Oh."

Another pause.

Then Y/N said softly, in an understanding voice, "Relax. I'm not going to tell anyone."

His eyes widened ,"..You're not?"

"No."

"You... aren't disgusted?"

"No."

"You won't tell Rehman bhai?"

"No."

He stared at her as though she'd just spoken another language,"...Why?"

Y/N couldn't help laughing.

It wasn't mocking, just... genuinely amused.

"Uzair miyan...We're a lot more similar than you think."

His brows knitted together,"...How?...as in...you like men too?"

Y/N stared at him, for exactly three seconds.

Then smacked a hand dramatically against her forehead.

"You're an idiot."

Uzair looked utterly bewildered,"...What?"

She looked at him as though he were the densest human being she'd ever met.

"No. I like women."

...

Silence.

His mouth slowly fell open,"...Oh."

Another second passed and his eyes grew even wider,"...OH."

Uzair leaned back in his chair, completely stunned.

"...We're both ...."

Y/N smiled for the first time since they'd met,"...Looks like it."

For the first time that afternoon...

Neither of them felt quite so alone.

---

The first secret meeting happened four days after Y/N's 'date' with Uzair.

Y/N chose the location carefully, it was not a café where someone from either family might recognize them, not the factory, not the hospital.

Instead, a small abandoned ground near the edge of Lyari where children only played in the evenings. At noon, it was deserted except for a weathered pavilion whose wooden benches had seen better days.

Uzair and Hamza arrived first,

Uzair checked the road twice before sitting down, nervously bouncing one leg.

Five minutes later, a car pulled down the road, and Y/N got down from the driver's seat.

Behind her climbed down Yalina, who folded her arms immediately upon spotting Uzair.

And afyer everyone took their seat, Yalina spoke up,"So..."

She looked between him and Y/N.

"This is the famous future husband."

Uzair immediately looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

"...Assalamualaikum."

"Walaikum assalam."

"...I swear I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend."

That earned him a confused look,"...Thank you?"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose.

"This is going wonderfully."

Hamza sighed.

"...Can everyone please calm down before I lose my mind?" Y/N interrupted.

They obeyed.

For a few moments, nobody spoke.

Finally...

Y/N clasped her hands together,"So. We all know why we're here."

She looked toward Hamza.

"You love Uzair."

A nod.

She turned toward Yalina.

"I love her."

Yalina reached across the bench and quietly intertwined their fingers beneath the wooden table where nobody passing outside could see. Y/N squeezed back.

Then looked toward Uzair.

"Our families won't listen...The society won't listen. So..."

She inhaled slowly,"I have an idea."

Three pairs of eyes settled on her,"We give them exactly what they want."

Silence.

"...What?" Hamza asked.

"We marry."

Uzair looked horrified, "I thought the whole point of this meeting was to make a plan to avoid that."

"We do marry." She pointed toward herself and Uzair, "You and I."

Then toward Hamza and Yalina. "And you two."

Yalina frowned,"...Explain."

Y/N stood up, beginning to pace, "My parents already think Uzair and I are destined for each other. And Rehman bhai wants Uzair married. And eventually your father," she nodded toward Yalina, "will also want you married."

"So..."

"So....!?"

"What if...we make sure he only ever sees one option?"

The others continued staring, confused and she groaned dramatically."Allah...why am I surrounded by idiots?"

Yalina laughed despite herself.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully,"You two."

She pointed between Hamza and Yalina,"Start fake dating."

Both of them froze.

"What?"

"What?"

"The entire city needs to think you're in love."

She pointed at herself.

"Meanwhile Uzair and I begin courting publicly. Dinners. Shopping. Family visits. Basicalky, everything respectable engaged couples do."

She turned back toward Hamza.

"You and Yalina become everyone's favourite young couple."

Yalina slowly understood,"...That way Abbu stops looking for another groom."

"Exactly."

Hamza looked toward Uzair.

"And while everyone thinks we're dating..."

Uzair finally caught on,"...We're actually dating...and while everyone thinks Y/N and I are hopelessly in love..."

Y/N finished with a grin "I'm sneaking off to my actual girlfriend."

The silence that followed lasted almost twenty seconds.

Then...Hamza burst out laughing.

"No...This is..."

He laughed harder,"This is actually brilliant."

Uzair stared at Y/N like she'd grown another head,"...You thought of all this?"

"I had three sleepless nights."

"Worth it."

Yalina stood up,"But eventually...The weddings."

Y/N nodded,"I know."

The smile slipped from her face,"We'll still have to go through with them."

No one spoke.

The reality settled over the group once more.

Hamza finally broke the silence.

"...If this works...We don't lose each other."

Uzair reached for his hand beneath the bench.

"...We don't."

Yalina looked toward Y/N,"...I hate this plan."

"So do I."

"...But I hate every other option more."

Y/N smiled sadly,"So...We do this?"

One by one...They nodded.

A silent agreement.

Not because they ideally wanted to be in a situation where they had to hide behind a facde, but because it was the only future where all four of them still remained together.

---

The performance began the very next week.

Uzair started visiting the L/N residence every Thursday afternoon.

Officially...To get to know his future wife.

Unofficially...To complain about how difficult pretending to flirt actually was.

"I brought flowers." Y/N accepted the bouquet,"They're lovely."

A moment passes.

"What do I do now?"

She sighed, "Compliment my outfit."

"...You look...Human."

She stared,"Seriously?"

"I'm trying."

"You are terrible at this."

"I've never courted any girl before!"

She burst into laughter.

Outside the drawing room, both her parents peeked through the doorway.

Mrs. L/N smiled. "See?They're already laughing together."

Mr. L/N clasped his hands happily.

"Mashallah."

Neither had any idea Y/N was laughing because Uzair had just compared her to a functioning mammal.

Meanwhile...

Hamza's suffering had only just begun.

"Absolutely not."

Jameel Jamali folded his newspaper.

"My daughter is not dating one of Rehman Baloch's men."

Hamza remained respectfully silent, Yalina folded her arms,"I like him."

"You've known him for three weeks."

"I still like him."

"He carries guns."

"So do your bodyguards."

"That's different."

"How?"

"It just is."

Yalina's lower lip pushed forward into the most dramatic pout imaginable.

"No."Her father looked away.

"...Abbu... ."

"No."

"...Please."

"...No."

Yalina made her best puppy dog eyed face,

Jameel looked horrified, "Din ba din badtameez hoti jaa rahi hai, kya hai uss nalayak gundey mein?"

She sniffed loudly, "I love him abbu please maan jaiye na, and Rehman bhai trusts him so much, agar meri unse nikaah hui toh aap Rehman bhai ke aur karibi ho jayenge" Hamza who was standing in the foyer froze with the way this woman was effortlessly lying.

Jameel Jamali mulled over that and after nearly two minutes of stubborn silence...

He sighed the sigh of a defeated father.

"...Fine, but if that lafandar makes you cry..."

Hamza immediately straightened, "I won't, sir."

"You'd better not."

"Ji."

Yalina beamed before throwing her arms around her father,"Thank you!"

Jameel muttered something about daughters shortening their fathers' lifespans and patted her back.

---

Months passed.

Lyari watched four young people fall in love, Or so everyone believed.

Uzair became a familiar sight outside the hospital, He'd wait beside his jeep with flowers for her every evening after her shif ended, Y/N would emerge with a big smile, still wearing her white coat.

Everyone smiled.

The nurses whispered,"What a devoted fiancé."

Only once the jeep rounded the next corner...Y/N would stop smiling and sink into the seat as the jeep changed direction.

Not toward home. Toward the secluded beach where two entirely different dates were waiting.

The arrangement became almost effortless.

Hamza took Yalina shopping.

People smiled.

"What a pretty couple."

Inside the boutique,

"Think Y/N would like this dress?"

Yalina held up a deep blue embroidered shalwar.

Hamza nodded thoughtfully.

"She'd look beautiful."

"Buying it."

Uzair and Y/N had dinner together every Friday.

The waiter always assumed they were hopelessly in love.

The moment he disappeared...

Uzair leaned forward.

"I miss Hamza."

"I miss Yalina."

They sighed simultaneously.

Then looked at one another.

"...This sucks."

"It really does."

At least they suffered together.

Rehman couldn't have been happier.

One evening, he watched Uzair help Y/N climb out of the jeep before walking her to her front gate.

A small smile crossed his face.

Ulfat joined him on the veranda.

"They suit each other."

"They do."

"I told you."

Rehman folded his arms proudly.

"Our Uzair finally smiles these days."

Across the courtyard...Uzair was smiling because Hamza was secretly waiting behind the warehouse wall for him.

---

The engagement ceremonies came first, Uzair and Y/N got engaged a week befkre Hamza and Yalina.

And then came the Nikaah, and on Ulfat's suggestion both the couples were decided to be married off on the same day. After all Hamza was like a brother to Rehman, and not to mention the boys got along really well. It would ease the nerves of both the set of 'friends'.

---

The marriage hall was decorated beautifully, with velvet and silk curtains, chandeliers, and fresh flowers at all corners, alcohol flowing from the fountain, plates of appetisers served to every passing guest.

During the ceremony, neither Y/N nor Uzair cried.

They had already mourned what they couldn't have.

Now...They were simply surviving it together.

Nearly six months after four frightened young people met inside an abandoned pavilion...The city of Lyari celebrated two weddings tohether.

The newspapers called them fortunate matches.

The daughter of a respected businessman marrying Rehman Baloch's trusted younger brother.

The daughter of politician Jameel Jamali marrying Rehman Dakait's closest asset, Hamza Ali Mazari.

Guests admired the decorations, children ran between tables, women cried happy tears at the couple.

Men congratulated one another.

No one noticed that Y/N held hands with Yalina during the Nikaah.

No one noticed Hamza's gaze lingering on Uzair for one heartbeat longer than it should have.

No one noticed.

Because everyone saw exactly what they expected to see.

Two perfect couples. Two perfect marriages.

Only the four people standing beside each other on the opposite sides of the curtain, knew the truth.

These weren't endings. They were promises.Promises that, somehow...

Against a society determined to separate them...shun them...they would still find a way home to the people they truly loved.

---

The celebrations stretched long into the night, Music echoed across the streets of Lyari, children chased each other through the courtyard, and every few minutes another relative appeared to bless both the newlyweds before disappearing toward the food stalls again.

Later, when the older women became busy gossiping and the men driwned themselves with wine and music, Yalina quietly slipped over,"You look beautiful."

Y/N chuckled,"So do you."

Neither of them could help it.

They burst into quiet laughter, shoulders bumping together.

"What?" Yalina whispered.

"I just..."

Y/N shook her head.

"If someone told me a year ago we'd survive this..."

"I wouldn't have believed them either."

Yalina reached over and straightened the edge of Y/N's dupatta.

"But we did."

"We did."

Across the courtyard, things were considerably less graceful.

Hamza had somehow convinced Uzair to take "just one sip."

One sip had become three.

Three had become...

"...You're smiling too much."

"I'm married."

"You've been married for six hours."

"Exactly!"

Hamza laughed, slinging an arm around Uzair's shoulders.

"You absolute idiot."

"You married your best friend."

"You married yours."

They dissolved into another fit of laughter.

One of the older uncles walked past, smiling fondly.

"Look at them."

He nudged Rehman,"That's friendship."

Rehman looked over and saw Hamza and Uzair were laughing so hard neither of them could stand properly anymore.

A smile spread across his own face, "They deserve to enjoy themselves."

Neither man noticed Hamza and Uzair leaning a little too much into each other.

---

As midnight approached, the celebrations slowly began to wind down.

Cars started leaving one after another and the guests bid their final goodbyes.

Y/N stood beside the decorated car waiting outside the haveli gates.

Yalina walked over one last time.

For a moment...They simply looked at each other.

No words exchanged.

No tears, just understanding.

Then Yalina leaned forward and hugged her tightly.

"I'll see you soon."

Y/N smiled,"You'd better."

"I always do."

They separated before anyone could grow suspicious.

Hamza appeared beside Yalina.

"You ready?"

She nodded.

Uzair opened the passenger door for Y/N with exaggerated politeness.

"My lady."

She rolled her eyes.

"Drive before I change my mind."

He grinned.

"As you wish."

The decorated car rolled away toward the Baloch haveli while Hamza and Yalina climbed into another car headed toward his home for the night.

Behind them, the lights of the celebration slowly disappeared into the distance.

---

The following morning...Uzair had barely finished breakfast when Rehman called him into the study.

"Come here."

Uzair obeyed,"Ji, Bhai?"

Rehman opened a drawer and placed a heavy ring of brass keys on the desk.

Uzair frowned,"...What's this?"

"Your house."

"My...what?"

"Your house."

Uzair blinked twice,"I already have a house."

Rehman snorted,"No."

"You have a room. And nkw this haveli will be your home."

He pushed the keys closer,"Now you are a married man, you and your wife need your own place."

Uzair looked genuinely alarmed,"Bhai, there's plenty of space here-"

"I know."

"So why would I leave?"

"Because," Rehman replied matter of factly, "every newly married couple deserves privacy."

Uzair nearly choked on his tea,"...Privacy-"

"Yes."

Rehman stood, walked around the desk, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"No more arguments, I wont hear anything. Besides It's a beautiful house in a quiet neighbourhood, closer to where Y/N grew up."

"And," he added with a teasing grin, "now get out."

Uzair stared,"...You're kicking me out?"

"I'm promoting you."

"Bhai..."

"Out."

"But-"

"Out."

Rehman laughed, giving him a playful shove toward the door.

"Go annoy your wife in your own house."

Uzair left the study shaking his head, unable to stop smiling despite himself.

That evening, a small convoy carried their belongings across Lyari.

The noise of the bazaar gradually faded behind them.

The crowded lanes gave way to broader streets lined with old trees, quiet homes, and spacious compounds belonging to doctors, businessmen and retired politicians.

The new house stood behind cream coloured walls with an irn gate and a shaded veranda stretching across the front, It wasn't as grand as the Baloch haveli, but it was peaceful.

Y/N stepped out of the jeep first, taking in the silence and the space.

They could finally stop sleeping uncomfortably in the same room, and they could always invite Hamza and Yalina over without any interruptions or suspicious glances from others.

It truly felt like, God was paving the way for them to finally be themselves.

---

Dinner at the new house had quickly become a tradition. Every Friday, without fail.

Sometimes it was because Y/N insisted, sometimes because Hamza and Yalina had somehow appeared with kebabs.

Sometimes because Ulfat refused to let "children" eat restaurant food three nights in a row.

Whatever the excuse, by now the dining table rarely seated only two people.

Tonight was no different.

The aroma of biryani and nihari filled the sprawling dining room while laughter echoed through the halls that had once felt unbearably empty.

Y/N set another bowl on the table before dramatically looking around the enormous dining room.

"...See?"

Uzair didn't even look up from arranging the plates,"Here we go."

She pointed accusingly around the house,"This place is haunted."

"It is not haunted."

"It echoes."

"Because you keep shouting." Uzair added, which earned him a disgusted glare from Y/N.

Hamza snorted into his glass,"It echoes because there are only two people living in a house meant for twelve!"

Yalina hid her smile behind her napkin.

Across the table, Rehman sighed as though he'd heard this exact complaint a hundred times.(Because he had.)

Every. Single. Visit.

Y/N folded her arms.

"I'm serious. This house is depressing."

"You've said that every week."

"Because it's true."

"You have four sitting rooms."

"I only sit in one."

"You have six bedrooms."

"I only sleep in one."

"You have a courtyard."

"I can only stand in one corner of it."

Uzair pinched the bridge of his nose,"Allah...this woman never stops complaining-"

"I am not complaining." Another glared from her.

Everyone looked at her.

"...Fine," she admitted,"I'm complaining."

"I miss the haveli."

"You were complaining about the haveli too."

"That was different."

"How?"

"There were too many people."

"And now?"

"There are too few."

"I get all lonely once i am bacj home from my shift."

"You have Uzair." Ulfat said

She looked dramatically toward her husband,"He disappears to work and comes back like at 3 in the morning."

Uzair looked offended.

The dinner continued amidst teasing and stories from the week.

Hamza recounted how one of the younger boys at the warehouse had accidentally locked himself inside a shipping container.

Ulfat laughed until tears formed in her eyes.

Rehman simply shook his head.

"I leave you people alone for one afternoon..."

"It wasn't my fault."

"It was absolutely your fault."

"It was partially my fault."

Y/N watched all of them with a small smile.

This...this almost felt like family.

When the laughter finally settled, Rehman leaned back in his chair thoughtfully.

"You know..."

Everyone looked at him.

"I've been thinking...this house, indeed is too big."

Y/N pointed triumphantly,"See!"

"I wasn't agreeing with you."

"...Rude."

"And Hamza's flat..well, it's old and it's falling apart. It's lived in but not suitable for newlyweds. They need space"

Rehman continued,"So..."

He looked between Hamza and Yalina.

"Why don't you two move in here?"

Silence.

Complete. Utter. Silence.

Y/N stopped chewing, Uzair nearly inhaled his water, Hamza choked so violently he had to pound his own chest,Yalina looked like her soul had briefly left her body.

"...What?" Hamza croaked.

Rehman looked confused by their reaction.

"What?"

Uzair recovered first."...Move in?"

"Yes."

"You mean..."

"Here."

"With us?"

"Obviously."

Y/N and Uzair exchanged the quickest glance in history.

No.

Absolutely not.

Yes.

Absolutely yes.

'Do not smile. I am trying not to smile.'

Hamza finally found his voice.

"Bhai...my apartment is fine-"

"It barely fits you. And now you have a wife. Besides you two are here every other night anyway."

Rehman gestured toward Yalina,"You've practically adopted this house already."

Yalina's face burned,"Bhai, we couldn't possibly-"

"Why not?"

Nobody answered.

Because the real answer was impossible to say.

Because Yalina already slept here half the time.

Just...Not in the room everyone assumed.

Ulfat nodded enthusiastically.

"I actually think it's a lovely idea."

Y/N looked at Uzair.

Uzair looked at Hamza.

Hamza looked at the ceiling.

Yalina looked like she was trying not to grin.

Rehman misunderstood every single expression.

"See? They're thinking about it."

Y/N coughed loudly.

"This house will finally feel lived in."

"And," he added with a teasing glance toward Uzair and Y/N, "when grandchildren eventually come along, they'll already have people around."

Uzair began coughing.

Hamza started coughing too despite not drinking anything.

Y/N grabbed her glass so quickly she nearly dropped it.

Yalina hid her face completely.

Nobody opened their mouth tho, because if they opened their mouths, they were all going to laugh.

---

Three days later...A moving truck stopped outside the house.

Rehman supervised everything proudly from the driveway.

"Careful with that cupboard!"

"It's older than Hamza!"

"Bhai..."

"Careful!"

Hamza sighed dramatically as another box disappeared inside.

Yalina stepped out of the car carrying a potted jasmine plant.

Y/N immediately hurried over.

"For our courtyard?"

"Our courtyard."

Y/N smiled so brightly it almost hurt.

"Our house finally looks like someone's living here."

---

By sunset...The house was transformed.

One bedroom at the eastern end belonged to Y/N and Uzair(Yalina)

Across the corridor...Hamza and Yalina(Uzair) occupied the room overlooking the garden.

To the outside world...Nothing had changed.

Y/N still slipped her hand through Uzair's arm whenever relatives visited.

Hamza still opened car doors for Yalina.

Wedding anniversaries were celebrated.

Family photographs were taken.

People sighed happily, "They're such beautiful couples." "They were made for each other." "What perfect marriages."

Only four people knew the truth.

Every morning began with shared breakfasts, every evening ended with all four of them arguing over tea, cards, terrible films, or whose turn it was to cook.

Sometimes friends came over, sometimes Rehman and Ulfat stayed the entire weekend.(that week was the hardest because then, Y/N couldn't pull Yalina into a kiss in the middle of the day, Hamza couldn't sleep in his man's room)

Because from the outside...

Everything looked exactly as it should.

Bur inside those walls, however, something even rarer had survived.

Not the marriages everyone celebrated.

But the love that survived not only time and hardships but the society itself.

And against every expectation, every rule society had written for them, the four of them had built a home where every heart finally belonged exactly where it had always wanted to be.

And for them...That was enough.