Episode 18
It had been three days since they came to Pakistan. The mansion was bustling with wedding preparations.
Just last night, Daji had called her over and told her to go with Aahil in the morning to bring the wedding and reception dresses.
After breakfast, Aahil asked her to get ready and waited for her outside. Hoor had already freshened up, so she wore a green suit, covered herself properly with a black hijab and shawl, and came out to the porch.
Aahil, who was on the phone, froze when his eyes fell on her. For two whole minutes, he just kept staring. To him, her face seemed to be glowing with pure light, shining like the moon under the black hijab.
Hoor, who was walking toward him, became nervous when she noticed his intense gaze, and her pace slowed down. Aahil noticed her confusion and the way she slowed down, which brought a slight smile to his lips.
He himself looked breathtaking in a black shalwar kameez paired with a brown leather jacket.
Hoor opened the front door and sat beside him in the passenger seat. The sound of the door closing brought Aahil back to his senses—he realized the call had already disconnected. Scolding himself, he quickly got into the driver's seat.
Just then, Mahak arrived in a tight red shalwar kameez, hair left open, face caked with makeup, and an overpowering perfume cloud around her. She knocked on Hoor's window.
"What is it?" Aahil asked irritably, rolling down his own window. He clearly didn't like her showing up.
"I need to shop too," Mahak said, flipping her hair dramatically.
"Then go with the driver." Aahil started the car.
"Big Ami (Aahil's mother) sent him on an errand," Mahak had clearly come prepared.
"Fine, get in." As soon as she sat, he drove off.
His brows were furrowed as he drove fast.
"Hoor, did you come here dressed like some grandma?" Mahak mocked. Hoor, who had been looking out of the window, was startled by her words. She glanced at Aahil, who was already watching her, and quickly turned away.
"Because I feel more comfortable like this," Hoor replied simply, though she didn't like Mahak's comment.
Mahak smirked sarcastically. "You act well too."
"What do you mean?" Hoor asked, confused.
"Don't let me hear any more useless noise," Aahil's cold voice cut in before Mahak could continue.
Mahak sulked, leaning back. He had directly called her voice useless.
Not long after, as they reached a stoplight near the mall, something flew in through Hoor's window and landed in her lap.
Startled, she saw it was a crumpled piece of paper. She looked outside and saw four shady-looking boys in a car beside theirs, staring at her shamelessly. Their gaze made her skin crawl.
She quickly leaned back when the window on her side was rolled up. With the black-tinted glass, no one outside could see in anymore.
Hoor glanced at Aahil—his face was serious, eyes fixed ahead. She then looked at her own hand holding the paper. Rage filled her—she wished she could burn not only the paper but also those disgusting men staring at her.
Her hand clenched so tightly around the paper that her fingers turned red. Suddenly, she flinched—Aahil had gently taken her hand in his.
Her heart thudded wildly. Her small hand was completely enveloped in his. Now driving with one hand, Aahil glanced at her and smiled faintly.
Flustered, she looked away, unaware her face had turned red.
Until they reached the mall, Aahil didn't let go of her hand. Whenever she tried, his grip only tightened, so she finally gave up.
"You go shop. Call me when you're done." Aahil spoke coldly as soon as Mahak got out of the car. But his hand was still holding Hoor's, and Mahak saw it too. Jealousy burned inside her.
"Where are you going?" Mahak snapped, glaring at Hoor.
"Mind your own business," Aahil shot back without hesitation.
"But—" she began, only to go silent at his icy stare. Stomping her foot in frustration, she left.
Once she was gone, Aahil turned his full attention to Hoor. Already nervous because of his cold demeanor and the way he held her hand, Hoor froze under his gaze.
"Give it to me," he said softly, taking the crumpled paper from her. She flushed in embarrassment, thinking he hadn't noticed earlier.
He unfolded it, and his veins pulsed in anger when he read what was written:
A phone number, followed by the words "call me baby."
For two minutes he just glared at the paper, then pulled out his phone and stepped out of the car. Hoor, though scared by his stormy expression, followed.
He held her hand tightly with one of his, phone pressed to his ear with the other, as he dragged her inside the boutique.
"Yeah, saw the message. Fine. Let me know once it's done. Thanks, bro," he said over the phone as they entered.
"Yes, ma'am," a worker greeted them. Hoor looked at him—still busy on his call.
"Wedding dresses…" she had to tell the worker herself.
"For the bride or the reception?" the worker asked politely.
"Both."
The worker went inside, and Hoor began looking at some outfits.
"Look, ma'am," another worker showed her some heavy dresses.
Hoor's face fell. She had never worn anything so heavily embroidered.
"Anything you like?" Aahil came over, now off his call.
"These are all too heavy… how will I carry them?" she said worriedly.
"I'll help you," Aahil replied with a teasing smile. Hearing this, Hoor stiffened, while even the worker laughed softly.
"Try this one," he said, pointing to a light pink and maroon lehenga with much lighter work compared to the others.
He picked up the dupatta, placed it over her head in front of the mirror, and whispered, "Mashallah…" The words slipped out naturally.
Hoor was stunned. She had thought him serious and reserved, but his boldness had lit up not just her four but sixteen senses.
"Pack this one," Aahil ordered, and the worker quickly complied.
"I'll choose the reception dress myself," he added gently, turning to her.
"So far you haven't chosen anything I liked," Hoor thought silently, but to her horror, the words slipped out aloud.
She bit her tongue in embarrassment. Aahil, however, chuckled.
"You're wearing it for me, so of course I'll choose," he said, enjoying her flustered face.
"That's not what I meant…" she mumbled.
"Sure," he dragged out the word playfully, amused by her panic.
After paying, they went to a shoe shop where he bought matching shoes. As they left, Mahak called, saying she was feeling better and ready to go home.
But Aahil had already summoned the driver. Mahak fumed when he told her to go with the driver—she had wanted to ruin their shopping trip, but he gave her no chance.
Watching Aahil shop, no one would have guessed he had ever been unhappy about this wedding. His manner suggested he had struck gold.
After shopping, he took Hoor to a restaurant. They ate while chatting lightly.
"You wait here, I'll get the car," Aahil said, heading toward the parking lot.
Evening shadows deepened; winter nights came quickly, with the cold breeze making the air chillier. Hoor stood a little aside where it was less crowded.
Just then, the same boys who had thrown the note surrounded her.
"Well, well, this bird is standing alone. Where did her hero go?" they sneered, eyes full of lust, hands trying to brush against her.
"Stay away!" Hoor snapped, batting their hands off, but Aahil was nowhere in sight.
"Oho, this bird has some fire in her. That'll make it even more fun," one of them leered, caressing her cheek. His breath reeked of alcohol.
Her patience snapped—slap! Her hand landed across his face.
"You dare, bitch?" he snarled, grabbing her arms and leaning close, trying to press his mouth to hers.
Before she could react, the man screamed and stumbled back—Aahil had punched him squarely in the face.
The others attacked, but Aahil fought them off fiercely. People gathered, but no one intervened.
"Stop, or this bird dies!" the first guy threatened, pressing a knife to Hoor's neck. Aahil had no choice but to freeze.
"Ahhh!" The man screamed a moment later as Hoor drove her knee with full force into his groin.
Police and staff arrived just then, dispersing the crowd.
Fuming, Aahil grabbed Hoor's hand, shoved her into the car, and sped off.
---
Three days had passed since she rejoined work. She now sat at the café across from the office, sipping coffee, lost in thought. Her thoughts circled around Jaan, whose personality she couldn't understand.
As per their agreement, she was working with him. She had set two conditions before signing:
1. Jaan would never force himself on her.
2. Once she repaid the entire amount, the agreement would end.
The fact that Jaan had agreed so easily confused her—she'd expected resistance. Stranger still, his attitude toward her remained professional, the same as with other clients.
She no longer had her house; she had moved into a rented place with a few essentials. But she had decided no matter what, she would win her home back.
So lost in thought, she didn't notice Derek arriving. But no one can remain unaware of a storm for long.
He saw her sitting, staring out the window, coffee untouched on the table. An idea struck him. He summoned a waiter and mischievously asked for ketchup, a raw egg, and salt. The waiter looked at him doubtfully, but at Derek's glare, hurried off to fetch them.
Derek mixed everything into her coffee while she remained unaware. (But she would find out once she took a sip.)
Setting up his phone camera, he aimed it at her to record without her noticing.
"Miss Psycho…" he snapped his fingers, sitting across from her.
"Yeah?" She blinked out of her thoughts, only to see him, and her mood soured.
"What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly.
He raised his brows. "I used to think you were only psycho by name, but today you've proved you're a full psycho."
As he spoke, he reached for her coffee cup, making her eyes dart to it.
The moment she saw him grab it, she lunged, snatching it back, glaring daggers at him.
"You were the one who called me Psycho… and thanks to your company, I really am turning into one," she shot back, then took a big sip.
The next instant, she nearly vomited. She spewed the sip out like a fountain—straight onto Derek.
The man who had been ready to enjoy her reaction was instead drenched.
"Ugh! Damn!" she groaned, trying to rid her mouth of the foul taste. A passing waiter quickly handed her water. After rinsing her mouth, she finally looked at Derek.
It didn't take her long to realize who was behind it, but when she saw his ruined state, a wave of satisfaction washed over her. A smile spread across her face, lightening her heart.
Derek, on the other hand, glared murderously. His little prank had backfired.
"Get up. Jaan is calling you. And where's your phone?" he said coldly, wiping himself off and grabbing his mobile. He gestured for her to follow.
Her smile vanished at once. Any summons from Jaan these days was enough to dry her throat.
With Derek walking ahead, she couldn't see the devilish smirk twisting his lips.
After all, Derek never left a debt unpaid.
---
The cold had reached its peak. Fog had wrapped everything in its icy grip.
Those cold blue eyes were fixed on the glass misted by that fog. Today, he had already "fixed" quite a few employees. Watching his rage, everyone was working with lightning speed, afraid they might be next. That's why the office was unusually silent.
He was still staring at the window when his phone rang.
He glanced at the mobile on his table—the number was unknown, but he already had an idea who it could be. His blue eyes turned even colder, and the creases on his forehead showed his displeasure.
The call rang once and cut off, but John's eyes remained on the screen. He knew the call would come again. And it did—the number flashed again the very next second.
This time, he answered, but didn't speak.
"What happened? Scared already?" The taunting voice from the other side mocked him for ignoring the first call.
"Whether I'm scared or not… you'll find out soon enough. But you? You're scared of me. That, I already know." His voice was calm—calm in a way that enraged his enemies.
"D never fears anyone. Better be ready…" the voice on the other side sneered.
John smirked faintly, his mysterious smile laced with danger.
"Do whatever you can. John fears no one—especially those who attack from the shadows, too afraid to face me head-on." His mocking tone made it clear his opponent was no match for him.
"Seems you've forgotten me. But don't worry, you'll remember everything at our next meeting. For now, let me prepare your little surprise…" The call ended with that ominous note.
This was the fourth such call, each time from a new number.
Yet John remained expressionless, still standing calmly by the window. Looking at him, no one could have guessed the storm raging inside—one spark, and he was ready to unleash destruction.
The office door knocked.
"Yes…" His voice granted permission without moving.
Emma entered, trying to compose herself. Her eyes instantly landed on him—standing with his back to her, dressed in a grey suit, hands tucked casually in his pockets.
Just as she looked at him, John turned, his cold blue eyes locking onto hers, silently asking why she was there.
"Yes, sir…" Emma's throat went dry under his piercing gaze. She swallowed hard.
Without a word, John slowly advanced toward her. His cold eyes never left her face.
Emma instinctively stepped back until her back hit the door. And then John caged her in, placing his hands on either side of her against the door.
Her heart raced—she couldn't read his intentions.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger against her lips.
Her heart skipped a beat. She had always believed John would never cross the line with her. But today, even that fragile assurance seemed to slip away. His eyes were fixed on her lips, while hers were glued on him.
He traced her lips lightly with his finger. Emma couldn't take it anymore. She shoved his hand away with all her strength, but couldn't push him back.
John looked at her flushed face and smirked mockingly. The next moment, he grabbed both her wrists, pinning them behind her and pulling her close—so close she could feel his warm breath fanning her cheek. His grip was so tight her wrists felt like they were breaking.
Fear seeped into Emma—not because of what he did, but because of how devoid of emotion he seemed. Like he wasn't holding a woman, but a lifeless doll.
Her heart pounded wildly, as if it would leap out of her chest. She struggled to free herself.
"Sir, what are you doing?" she burst out angrily when she couldn't break free. Her face was flushed crimson.
"From now on, if I don't call you, don't you dare come. If you do, I'll take it as you longing for my closeness." He whispered in her ear, his tone a mix of authority and mockery.
"Sir, you're mistaken. You did call me." This time Emma didn't hold back—she met his eyes with unwavering defiance.
John was momentarily stunned by her boldness. But he masked his surprise so swiftly, Emma never noticed.
"Interesting… If you want to spend time with me, just say it. No need to put on such a show." His deep gaze studied her reaction.
Emma was speechless for a second. Then, with all her strength, she shoved him away. This time she broke free—because John let her go. Otherwise, no amount of force could've escaped his grip.
Fuming, she pointed a trembling finger at him.
"Your filthy mind shows clearly—there's nothing in it but dirt!" Her breath came fast with rage. Her eyes glistened, but she refused to let her tears fall. Her brown eyes were red from holding back.
She wanted to lash out, to hurt him somehow. But she had never been this close to anyone—not like John wanted. Perhaps her years with Hoor had shaped her—Hoor, who guarded herself like a pearl in its shell. Emma too wanted to save herself for the one truly worthy of her.
Without waiting, she stormed out. John didn't stop her. His thoughtful eyes lingered on the door long after she was gone.
---
Derrick had left the office earlier, before Emma arrived. He knew once John told her he hadn't called her, she'd come after him with fury. She might even kill him.
Now he was driving, smirking at the thought of Emma's reaction, when his phone rang. Dad Calling.
He knew why.
"Hi Dad!" he answered cheerfully. But his father wasn't in the mood for his enthusiasm.
"Derrick, what do I do with you? When I told you to take guards along, why don't you ever listen?" His father's voice was full of exasperation.
Threats had been coming in for days—if the deal wasn't signed, they'd face consequences. David wasn't worried about himself, but about his wife and son. Yet his son never listened. He had assigned guards, but Derrick always slipped away.
"Dad, listen. I don't like moving around with guards glued to me. And besides, I can protect myself." Derrick's voice, unusually, carried seriousness.
"But—" his father began.
"Dad, I said relax. I'm fine." Derrick reassured him.
The road ahead was deserted, lined with trees, forest looming nearby.
"Alright… just take care of yourself." His father sighed, knowing his son wouldn't change.
"Okay, David…" Derrick replied, eyes fixed on the road, before hanging up.
Driving further, he spotted a girl bent over her car with the hood open. The lonely road, the dense trees—if he left, who would help her? He pulled over.
"Heyyy… need help?" he called.
The girl turned—and it was Olivia. His green eyes sparkled instantly, while hers soured at the sight of him.
Her car had broken down on her way to work. She had tried but failed to fix it, and was about to call for help when she heard that too-familiar voice. Seeing Derrick gave her a little relief—but she still made a face.
"Wow, what a coincidence. I was just thinking about you…" Derrick walked over in his usual playful tone, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Olivia rolled her eyes.
"Not even curious why I was thinking of you?" he teased.
"No. Because whatever it was, it must've been nonsense. And I'm not interested in nonsense." she snapped.
"That won't stop me, you know." He moved past her, checking the car.
Her temper flared.
"Then why even bother asking?"
"Sometimes I just like being polite. You know how sweet I am…" he smirked, lost in self-praise.
"So sweet I feel like killing you." Olivia shot back.
"That's exactly what I was thinking about—you confessing your love in these fiery little ways. Honestly, it melts my heart." He glanced at her—sure enough, her eyes blazed with fury.
"Hahaha… keep glaring, but remember, this guy is all yours." He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. "For now, bring me the toolbox." He tossed her the keys.
She wanted to refuse, but since it was her car, she went silently.
Fetching the toolbox, she felt a strange presence. She looked around—but found nothing. Shrugging it off, she returned.
Derrick took the box, pulled out tape, and bent over the engine. Just then, a blue car passed by. Olivia glanced at it briefly, then back at Derrick—unusually silent, working seriously.
His silence unsettled her.
Moments later, the car started.
"You could at least say thank you," he said, wiping his hands.
"I didn't ask you to help. You came yourself. So why thank you?" She wasn't about to admit her gratitude.
"True. Thank yous are for strangers. Isn't that right?" He tugged her cheek playfully.
"Delusional." She swatted his hand away.
"Keep rolling those eyes, I'm right here. And as for delusions—let's see. In a while, you'll definitely be saying my name…" With a flying kiss, he hopped into his car and drove off.
Olivia frowned—what did he mean? Shaking her head, she got in her car. But as soon as her hands touched the wheel, her breath hitched.
Because right there, sprawled across the steering wheel, was Derrick's apprentice—staring straight at her.
"Derrick!!!" she screamed.
Driving slowly, Derrick's lips curled into an evil smile when he heard her call his name. He had pulled that trick while sending her for the toolbox.
He pressed the accelerator.
Soon his phone buzzed—"Miss Psycho Calling." He ignored it.
Emma, furious he wasn't picking up, typed a message:
"Today… I truly feel like killing you. To murder you, revive you, and kill you again!"
Derrick chuckled reading it—but when he pressed the brakes, the car didn't slow. He tried again—brakes had failed.
Keeping calm, he spotted a huge tree ahead. With sharp reflex, he unbuckled, flung open the door, and leapt out.
The car crashed violently into the tree. He scraped himself slightly, but it was minor.
Olivia, who had barely escaped the cockroach prank and was following behind, froze at the crash. She screeched to a halt and ran to him, helping him up. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Hey honey, I'm fine…" Derrick wiped her tears gently, trying to calm her.
"But—" her heart pounded in fear.
"Shhh… I'm fine. I'm not dying so eas—" He cut off mid-sentence—because Olivia suddenly hugged him, sobbing harder.
Her heart couldn't take it. Just minutes ago, she had nearly lost him.
But her relief shattered when Derrick suddenly shoved her away—hard. Her head hit the tree with a crack. Stars danced in her vision.
When her senses returned, she froze.
Because before her eyes, the car that had crashed was sliding, striking Derrick.
He was on the ground.
Lifeless.
Blood everywhere.
Those lively, mischievous eyes… now closed.
He had pushed her away—saved her.
She was that important to him. Important enough to die for.
She steadied herself against the tree, trembling. Her head throbbed, blood dripping from her wound.
But compared to Derrick's bleeding body, her wound was nothing.
The blood around him spread fast.
Had her curse come true?
No. She had to save him. She would save him.
But could she? Really?
---
---
Jan's heart was restless.
It felt as if someone very dear to him was in agony.
The unease was so strong that he couldn't find peace in any way.
Running his hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in the office, he tried to control the turmoil inside him. But instead of lessening, it only grew stronger.
"What's the matter…??"
Finally, frustrated, he asked himself — as though the answer to his restlessness would come from within.
Exhausted, he leaned his head back on the chair and closed his eyes.
On the canvas of his eyelids appeared Derek's image.
Just for a moment.
Because the very next second, his eyes shot open.
"Send Derek inside…"
He said into the intercom, one leg constantly shaking with nervousness.
"Sir, he… he left the office quite a while ago."
Jan pressed his lips tightly at the reply, while the poor employee on the other side prayed silently that the boss's foul mood wouldn't land on her today.
"Hmmm… bring a black coffee to my office."
Massaging his temple, he gave the order and placed the intercom down.
After a moment of thought, he dialed Derek's number.
But after ringing for a long while, the call disconnected on its own.
He tried three or four more times. Each attempt ended the same way.
Slamming the phone aside, he buried his head in his hands.
His sixth sense kept warning him of danger.
A few minutes later, the door knocked.
"Yes."
Upon hearing permission, Emma entered with a blank face. In her hand was a steaming cup of coffee.
She placed the cup on the table in front of Jan.
During this, his eyes briefly met hers — her brown eyes streaked with red veins, clear proof she had been crying for a long while.
For a fleeting second, guilt tugged at Jan's heart that he shouldn't have been so harsh earlier.
But in the very next moment, he wrapped himself again in his shell of indifference. Picking up the cup before him, he sipped the coffee.
He didn't look at Emma again, who stood holding the tray, waiting for his next instruction.
Jan thought that if he looked into her eyes even once more, it would become difficult to control himself.
"Sir, may I leave?"
Finally, when Jan said nothing, Emma herself asked, her voice flat.
"Hmm… yes, go."
Her voice pulled Jan out of his thoughts. Right now, he truly wanted solitude.
"Miss Emma."
She had just turned when Jan's voice made her stop again.
"Cancel all my meetings and appointments for today. And don't let anyone disturb me."
Emma nodded silently and turned to leave.
It was impossible for her to understand Jan.
His mood would flare up in one moment, and in the next second, he'd appear calm — as though it had been someone else entirely who had been angry.
Thinking this, she left the office.
Jan had just taken another sip of coffee when his phone beeped with a message.
Thinking of Derek, he quickly picked it up.
The screen showed photos and a video from an unknown number… with a message that read: Surprise.
He instantly understood who had sent it.
But as he looked at the pictures and video, a storm raged in his blue eyes.
The video was of Derek's accident.
The pictures, however, were blurred — it wasn't even clear whether the figure was male or female. One could only tell it was a human.
But Jan didn't pay attention to that.
How could he, when his friend… his brother… his soul… his very lifeline… was covered in blood?
In a fit of rage, he hurled the cup in his hand toward the door.
Just then Emma had entered, shaken, to deliver Olivia's message — that she was taking Derek to the hospital and had mentioned the hospital's name.
But fate was cruel. The cup Jan had thrown splashed its still-hot coffee over Emma's hands and feet.
Her arms were covered by sleeves, so they were spared.
"Ahhh!"
Clutching her hand, she sat down immediately. The burning was so sharp it felt as though countless needles were piercing her flesh.
Hearing her cry, Jan — who had just bent to grab his car keys — straightened at once and rushed toward her.
"Are your ears broken? Didn't I say not to enter until I call you? Why don't you value respect, Emma?"
He snapped, standing over her, fury lacing his tone. Already tense because of Derek, his anger boiled over.
"I came to deliver Olivia's message… Derek had an accident, and she's taking him to the hospital."
Emma's patience finally shattered. She too was worried for Derek, plus she was writhing in pain — and on top of that, Jan's harshness.
"And another thing, first go and learn what respect even is! Learn how to show it! And most importantly, learn how to talk to women—"
She had barely begun her tirade when suddenly Jan lifted her into his arms.
Her mouth and eyes flew open wide in shock.
The scent of his cologne overwhelmed her senses.
But Jan's expression remained cold, his steps long and firm as he carried her into the private elevator.
"Put me down! What are you doing?"
She struggled in his grip, but his hold only tightened.
"I don't have time for these dramas. Tell me the hospital's name Olivia mentioned."
Exiting the elevator, he strode toward his car. His anger today seemed bent on tearing apart her nerves.
"I won't tell you. Do whatever you want."
Emma had no idea what storm she had just invited with those words.
Reaching his car, Jan abruptly let go of her. She hit the ground hard.
"What was that?!"
Emma glared at him, but his dangerously sharp expression made her shiver for a moment.
"Now I'll show you."
With those words, he grabbed her burned hand roughly, yanked her up, and pinned her against the car.
"Ahhh!"
Her scream died in her throat as Jan clamped his other hand over her mouth.
There was barely an inch of space left between them.
"Now tell me… will you say the name or not?"
His icy blue eyes bore into her tearful brown ones. His hot, heavy breaths fanned her face.
Emma was terrified, but stubbornness had gripped her too.
So, defiantly, she shook her head no.
Seeing this, Jan squeezed her injured hand harder. Emma tried to free herself, but his iron grip was impossible to escape. Worst of all — she couldn't even scream.
"Will you tell me or not?"
This time, his gaze dropped to her burned foot. His tone was cold, merciless — as though he would destroy anything in his path.
Understanding the meaning in his eyes, Emma's blood ran cold.
The pain in her hand was already unbearable — if he hurt her foot too… the thought alone made her shiver.
Quickly, she nodded yes.
The moment she agreed, Jan removed his hand from her mouth.
She gasped for breath, then told him the hospital's name.
Hearing it, Jan flung open the car door, shoved her inside, and took the driver's seat.
Emma wanted to protest, to say she had already told him the name so why was he taking her along?
But his fierce demeanor silenced her.
The rest of the ride to the hospital passed in heavy silence.
---
The mansion was fully decorated. Most of the guests had arrived. Tonight was the Mayoun, followed by Mehndi, then the wedding and the reception.
Since that day, Hoor hadn't faced Aahil again.
Aahil's manner was caring, but there was something about him that left Hoor restless — though she couldn't place what it was.
She wore a simple yellow and green dress that enhanced her delicate figure.
Since she was alone in the room, she hadn't covered herself fully — only draped a dupatta. Her long hair was tied in a bun, a few playful strands falling onto her cotton-soft cheeks.
Even in simplicity, she looked breathtaking.
At the moment, she sat against the headboard with her eyes closed.
The girls had kept her surrounded almost the whole previous night, leaving her sleepless.
"Api…!!"
Muskaan peeked in through the slightly opened door and called her.
"Come in, Muskaan."
Hoor's lips curved into a smile at the sight of her.
Though she was Mehak's sister, she was her complete opposite — a little mischievous, but sweet.
"Api, you look so pretty!"
Muskaan sat beside her, gazing at her with admiration.
Hearing that, Hoor laughed softly and pulled Muskaan's cheek playfully.
"Not more than you."
Muskaan's face lit up at the compliment.
"Oh! I came to check if you were asleep. They've started playing the dholki downstairs. And you have to get your mehndi applied too!"
She tapped her forehead, scolding herself for forgetting.
Meanwhile, Hoor adjusted her dupatta to cover her head.
"Api, leave it… it'll be uncomfortable," Muskaan said hesitantly.
"I feel more at ease like this," Hoor replied gently.
"But Api, there aren't any men there—"
"Even so, I have to. I don't feel comfortable without it."
At that, Muskaan stopped insisting.
"Alright then, wait here. I'll just freshen up in the bathroom and we'll go together."
Hoor went inside.
Left alone, Muskaan began idly looking around. Her eyes fell on a donut-shaped cushion near the bed.
"Wow…"
She picked it up, examining it curiously.
"Thief!"
Ali had come to see Hoor, but froze at finding another girl in the room. He turned to leave when he noticed the girl holding something. Thinking she was stealing, he quietly stepped inside.
Since Muskaan's back was to him, she didn't notice his approach.
"Who—"
Startled by the sudden shout of "Thief!" near her ear, Muskaan jumped.
Ali, meanwhile, was struck dumb at the sight before him.
She wore a green flared frock, her long black hair flowing free, thick lashes framing wide eyes that now stared right at him.
"Who do you think is the thief, brother?"
Muskaan's words snapped him out of his daze, souring his mood instantly.
Just then, Hoor emerged from the bathroom, alarmed by the voices.
But seeing Ali and Muskaan, she realized it was one of Ali's usual antics.
"Ali! You scared me to death. Stop troubling everyone."
She scolded him.
"I didn't do anything, Api! I just came to spend some time with you, but then I saw this girl messing with your things while you weren't here."
Ali quickly defended himself.
"You think I'm a thief?!"
Muskaan was scandalized.
"Not think… you are," Ali said with a grin.
"What do you think of yourself?!"
Muskaan snapped, teeth clenched.
"Very noble thoughts. Want me to show you some noble deeds too?"
Ali teased shamelessly while Muskaan fumed.
"Rude!"
Her cheeks flushed red with anger.
"You forgot to put on blush."
Ali smirked.
"What's wrong with you two? Fighting like children."
Before Muskaan could retort, Hoor intervened, exasperated.
"That's what I was saying, Api. Children should learn to talk respectfully with elders."
Ali chuckled, mocking her shorter height.
"Absolutely! And should I go fight lamp posts now?"
Muskaan shot back with a sarcastic smile.
Hoor buried her head in her hands as they resumed bickering.
"You—"
Ali would've said more if Hoor hadn't tugged his ear.
"Yes, you. Out of the room now!"
Dragging him outside, she turned back to Muskaan, who stood with arms crossed and cheeks puffed out.
"Come on, Muskaan, he's gone now."
"Api, do you want to eat gol gappay?"
Ali's head popped back into the room, eyes twinkling mischievously at Muskaan.
"Wait right there!"
Muskaan lunged for his hair, but Ali laughed and bolted away.
Hoor barely managed to hide her smile — because honestly, Muskaan's face really did look like a gol gappa.
---
To be continued…