The winter in Peshawar was in its playful mood. Outside the medical block of the university, the small cafeteria smelled of sweet chai drifting lazily through the cold air.
Dr. Shayaan Khan — Arhan's best friend and Wajdan's son — walked in with his usual confident stride.
6'1" tall, broad shoulders, wheatish complexion, and deep hazel eyes that only softened when he was with patients; otherwise, they carried a naturally intense gaze.
His dark brown hair was neatly styled, a trimmed beard sharpening his already strong jawline.
Always dressed sharp — today in a crisp white shirt layered under a charcoal grey sweater, black fitted trousers, and brown leather shoes. His expression? The kind of man who seemed like he could solve the world's problems — except for one thing… washing dishes.
Umm-e-Sariha, childhood best friend of Jannat ul Mawia, was the opposite kind of presence — warm, cheeky, and unpredictable.
5'4", milky white skin, naturally pink cheeks, and big almond-shaped brown eyes that always sparkled with mischief.
Her silky black hair, parted at the center, fell in soft curls to her shoulders.
Her outfit was casual chic — a blush pink long sweater over light blue jeans, paired with white sneakers.
And her expression? That familiar mischievous smile she wore whenever she was about to mess with someone — and today, her target was Dr. Shayaan.
📱 Instagram DM – 9:43 PM
Umm-e-Sariha:
"Just wanted to ask… when are you coming to wash the dishes?"
Shayaan's eyebrow arched slightly. The man usually replied to serious medical queries — this was a different kind of "emergency."
Dr. Shayaan:
"You'd make a doctor wash your dishes?"
Umm-e-Sariha:
"Housework is therapy… you should know that."
Shayaan typed back with a sarcastic smirk:
"I'm the kind of man who wears gloves before surgery, not before picking up a sponge."
Umm-e-Sariha:
"And I'm the kind of woman who can make a doctor take off his apron!"
That earned a silent "you-did-not-just-say-that" look from him.
He set his phone down, took a sip of chai, then picked it up again.
Dr. Shayaan:
"I was washing the dishes… but every plate reflected your face. If one broke, I'd feel guilty."
Sariha laughed so hard she almost dropped her phone.
Umm-e-Sariha:
"So you ruined my reputation to save your plates?"
Dr. Shayaan:
"No… I'm just saying you're dangerous. Even plates start feeling uncertain about their future."
The Hostel Inspection – Two Days Later
It was a cold yet sunny morning in Peshawar.
Shayaan was arranging files in his hostel room when there was a soft knock knock at the door.
Opening it, he found Umm-e-Sariha standing there with a cheeky smile and a small grocery bag in her hand.
She wore a mustard yellow sweater with black jeans, a white sling bag over her shoulder, and the same mischievous spark in her eyes.
Shayaan:
"You? At the hostel? And… what's in the bag?"
Sariha:
"Inspection tools. I came to see if you've actually been washing your dishes or if my reflection is still showing on them."
Shayaan gave her a seriously? look but was already hiding a laugh.
Scene – Inside the Room
One corner had a study desk, the other a tiny kitchenette with a small sink and three stacked plates.
Sariha walked straight to the sink, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a plate.
Sariha:
"Hmm… a little stain here. Guess you can't be a plate surgeon along with being a doctor."
Shayaan:
"I can heal the scars on a patient's heart, not a plate's surface."
Sariha:
"Alright then, let me train you — crash course in dishwashing coming up."
She turned on the tap, grabbed the sponge, and gently pulled him to stand beside her.
"See… first you wet it, then you scrub gently. You don't break it — you just make it clean."
Shayaan stood with folded arms, smirking:
"You're teaching me to clean plates, and I'm wondering how to clean that sparkle from your eyes — it's distracting."
She shoved the sponge into his hand:
"Shut up and scrub. Or next time, I'm sending the inspection report to Jannat."
The Plate Incident
They were laughing as they washed when one plate slipped and fell.
Clink! … and then silence.
Shayaan looked down — the plate was perfectly fine.
He looked back at her, his tone slow and playful:
"Looks like even the plate felt your… protection."
Sariha narrowed her eyes but smiled:
"See? I'm not dangerous. I'm protective."
Shayaan just laughed… and that moment, next to the sink, became their little "highlight reel" of comedic romance.
Flirty Closure:
As she walked out of the room, Sariha turned and said:
"Next time, if the plates aren't clean… I'll scrub your brain along with them."
Leaning against the doorframe, Shayaan smirked:
"Then I'd better wear gloves… to protect myself from your attacks."