𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨| stil holding on to that?

"Just put it like this, yeah!"

Early in the morning i found myself, guiding the florist who is decorating the flowers on our gates. All the Eid decorations were done, but the main gates are still left to be completed.

I woke up early today; usually, I go back to sleep after Fajr prayer, but today I didn't. Instead, I showered and slipped into my Eid outfit.

"Is this okay now?" he scans the entire gates, which is now decorated with white and pink flowers, then looks at me, waiting for my answer.

"Yep! Its looks good now." I say. "good job, boy." He chuckles and rubs back of his neck before speaking.

"Thankyou."

To his credit, he's James, a blonde with blue eyes, and we are good buddies. James and I became friends the last time he came for Eid-ul-Fitr decorations. He was listening to a song called 'Heartbreak Anniversary,' and I absolutely loved that song. I was happy and asked him about his music taste, and to my surprise, we share the same taste in music, which led us to become friends

"You're welcome," I say. "So, are you done here?" He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder before answering. "Yeah, I'm done," he says, running a hand through his hair. "By the way, happy Eid." A smile curls on my lips as I wish him the same.

"same to you!"

I watch as he makes his way out of the house. In a few hours, guests will start arriving, and I'll have to interact with them, even though I don't want to. I've never been a people person; I prefer to be in my own zone with a few chosen people, a cup of coffee, and, of course, my books.

Average introvert.

My eyes linger on the gates for a while before I pull my gaze away and start heading inside. As I walk, I catch a glimpse of Azhar, who is standing in the garden with a phone pressed to his ear, laughing I've never seen him laugh while talking on the phone-something is off. Am I about to meet my sister-in-law soon?

The idea itself sends a thrill through my body. I approach him on tiptoes, careful not to make a sound. Soon, I'm right behind him, and he hasn't sensed my presence yet.I tap on his shoulder, and he slightly flinches before turning around and raising his eyebrows at me. He hangs up the call, muttering something I can't quite hear.

"Eid Mubarak!" I wish him. A small smile touches his lips as he wishes me back. He's dressed in a black kurta and shalwar with the sleeves rolled up, and a silver Rolex watch on his wrist.

Okay, my brother is handsome, but he doesn't need to know that.

"So, who were you talking to that made you smile so much, huh?" I ask feigning suspiciously. "Am I going to meet my sister-in-law soon?"

He laughs and  his grey eyes sparkle. "No, wake up, my dear sister," he says. "You aren't meeting anyone. And as for your question about me smiling while talking-" He lets out a small sigh before continuing, "It was one of my very good friends, mostly business-related."

"But yeah, he's a good friend, and he's coming over, along with another very good friend that we're quite familiar with."

Never keep any expectations from your brother.

"Whatever, I don't care unless it's my bhabhi coming over," I shrug, to which he rolls his eyes."So, if you're done with the drama, how about we have breakfast now? Mom's been waiting for us in the dining room."

Breakfast? Oh god, I didn't realize I was hungry until now, probably because I was so excited and busy with everything that I forgot about my favorite thing in the world.

Food.

We both made our way straight inside to the dining room, where Mom is sitting with a scowl on her face. I sat beside her, and Azhar sat opposite us.

"What took you two so long? The food is almost cold now," she complains. Ammi is also ready, dressed in a light pink kameez suit, a traditional Indian-Pakistani outfit.

(Mom)

"Nothing, just your delusional daughter dreaming of having a sister-in-law," he shrugs as he pours himself a glass of juice."So what's wrong with that? You're almost 32; get married already," Mom protests. As soon as these words leave her mouth, my brother spits out his juice.

"Mom," he says, "I'm just 29. There's no hurry to get married, and I'm telling you that I'm not getting married before Zaira's marriage." He says this as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

It got my heart racing!

"She still has a lot of time. Think about yourself," Mom says. "Everyone's kids are getting married, and here you are, still single, giving all your time to the company."

"Beta, it's for your own good!"

(Son)

Mom is a hundred percent right. Azhar bhai spends all his time at work, becoming a CEO doesn't mean you have to sacrifice your whole life to it. You still have the right to live your life, don't you? But my lovely brother seems to forget that and is determined to give all of himself to his beloved job.

"I know, Mom," he says, suddenly looking as if he's been given a death sentence. "But I have no one in my sights-not yet, at least. And like I said before, I will get married after Zaira's, whether it's in two years or two months."

He's determined to get me married, and here I am, still crushing on a guy who I don't think even thinks about me.

"Shut this marriage drama, guys! It's Eid; let's celebrate it with happiness." I try to switch the subject, and it works.

The next 14 minutes of breakfast go by with talking and eating.

In the afternoon, almost everyone was gathered in the living room, including me. Currently, I'm surrounded by three ladies who I think have come over here with a list of questions.

They continued asking me questions like, 'What's your age?', 'What are you studying?', 'Are you engaged?', and so on. Some of them even went a step further, talking about my dad and making that void in my heart ache.Somehow, I managed to free myself from their relentless questions.

As my mother asked me to go get Nazeera Aunty-her best friend from school-I still remember how, when I was a kid, she would bring me chocolates, knowing how much I loved them (still do).

She would also bring her two nephews, who I would play dollhouse with.

I would forced them to play

Such memorable days they were.

I walked toward the exit of our house. As I stepped out, my eyes landed on the Audi from which Nazeera Aunty and her husband, Javed, were getting out. I walked toward them, and Nazeera Aunty finally noticed me. A smile crept up on her face. She's a beautiful and kind lady-she's always been one.When I reached her, she pulled me into a hug.

"Eid Mubarak, Aunty." She chuckled and released me from her embrace. "Khair Mubarak! You are looking so beautiful, Mashallah." At her compliment, a smile touched my lips. "Thank you, Aunty. You are also looking gorgeous."

She chuckled, and I pulled back to greet Javed Uncle. I frowned as I realized they had come alone. "You didn't bring Arhaan?" I asked, referring to her nephew.

Arhaan and I have had a very good friendship since childhood.She shook her head, still chuckling. "He's coming with his brother." Wait-did she just say he's coming... his-what??? Brother! He's back?! No way!

"What?" I exclaim. She laughs and nods.

"Yeah, he is back." These four words are enough to blow my mind. I'm going to see him after so many years. The last time I talked to him still lingers in my memory...

Flashback

I heard you're leaving the country," I ask, even though I already knew, but I felt the need to ask him.

He stops with his hand on the doorknob, lifting his green orbs as he speaks.

"You heard right."

"When will you come back?"

He turns around so he's facing me completely."No idea. Why? You'll miss me?" His lips curl into a smirk.

"Nope... never. I don't miss people who broke my things."His smirk vanishes as an unreadable expression takes over his face.

"Still holding on to that?" he asks. I nod, trying hard not to cry and tell him not to go.

"Good," he says, then walks away.

Flashback ends

"He came two days ago. I forgot to tell you. I thought you'd enjoy the surprise yourself."

Surprise? It's more of a headache. I force a smile and lead them into the living room where everyone else is gathered.

I have no words for him. The thought of him coming back after so many years does something to my heart.

And the fight that... that broke our friendship-despite all the love and care I gave him.

It meant nothing to him.

"Okay, Aunty, you guys wait here. I'm going to get Mom." I head straight to the kitchen where I know Mom will be.

As I enter the kitchen, I hear sniffing and think I know who it is. "Mom?" She turns around, startled. "Oh, you? I'm coming. You go," she says, wiping away the tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" I ask, even though I already know the reason. The guests, especially the closest ones, are often like salt to wounds.

I take a step closer to her and wipe her tears."Mom, it's okay. Bhai and I are still with you, right? And whatever those people say doesn't matter. Whatever Allah does is for the better," I reassure her, even though my heart can never accept this. Why did it have to be my dad? Why so early? I was just a child; I didn't even know what a father's love was.

I still remember the school trips, where everyone's dad would come to pick up their kids, and I would look at my hand and imagine his big hands in mine. His eyes, always filled with love for me, are still vivid in my memory.

I hold back the emotions that scream at me to let go and be vulnerable, to cry in my mom's arms, to ask her why it happened-why it happened to me, especially at such a young age.

I wipe the tear from my cheek that I didn't even realize had escaped. Someone enters, and I hear a soft, feminine voice.

Nazeera Aunty.

"Here you are," she says as she walks past me and hugs my mother. "You look so beautiful. I told you, you should wear more light-pink colors."

They both start talking and laughing. Seeing my mother happy and talking eases the heaviness in my heart. I walk out of the kitchen.

My phone buzzes, and I look down to see a text from Adira.

Adira: I'll come over at your house soon.

Me: that's my girl

I walk toward the entrance of our house. As I step outside, my eyes catch a sleek black car pulling over. The engine shuts off, and I quickly move toward the car.

The driver's seat opens, and a man steps out, dressed in a sleek black suit with a crisp white dress shirt, left casually unbuttoned at the collar. My gaze finally settles on his face and-boom.

He is...

--‐------------------

Vote, comment and share it with your friends guys!

What do you guys think, Who is he?

Also are you guys liking zaira's character so far? 🤔

Next or maybe 4th chapter will be on aryan's pov.

Till then take care!!