Ayeda was getting ready for a small party her friends had organised — a quiet bachelor’s celebration, just for her, before she stepped into a new phase of life.

She wore a navy-blue satin frock that flowed to her ankles, the neckline and sleeves delicately embroidered. Her hair was covered modestly with a matching scarf. Under the soft glow of the mirror lights, she looked beautiful — effortlessly graceful, like the calm before a storm.

Bidding goodbye to her family, she stepped into her car and drove off.

The venue was lit in warm hues, laughter echoing across the garden as her friends welcomed her with a playful shower of flower petals. There was cake, games, harmless gossip, and endless teasing. They pulled her leg about her upcoming marriage.

But Ayeda didn’t blush. She smiled, nodded but the usual shyness one would expect was missing.

“Oh come on, Ayeda!” one of her friends groaned. “You’re getting married to Samad, you can’t keep calling him your ‘best friend’ now!”

Ayeda chuckled, adjusting her scarf. “Of course I know. And I’m not denying anything. But you can’t expect me to change how I feel overnight. I’m comfortable with him, alhamdulillah. We’ve grown up together. It’ll take time, but inshaAllah… we’ll manage. Together.”

Her friends gave her a half-teasing, half-understanding look because they knew she wasn’t saying it casually. She meant it.

By the time their chatter slowed and the laughter faded, it was already 11:30 p.m. Everyone started to leave.

Ayeda walked to her car, waved one last goodbye, and began her drive home.

But halfway through the quiet road, the car suddenly came to a stop.

The engine died.

Confused, she tried again. Once. Twice. Nothing.

She sighed, checked her phone but the screen was black.

Dead battery.

Panic began to crawl up her spine.

She stepped out to see if someone could help… but just a few feet away, under the dim streetlight, stood a group of men. Loud. Rowdy. Smoking.

Her breath hitched.

Fear gripped her.

Without wasting another second, she rushed back inside the car, locked the doors, and clutched the steering wheel tightly.

Her heart was racing.

Dark thoughts crept in.

She closed her eyes and started to recite Ayat-ul-Kursi under her breath, again and again, tears beginning to gather.

“Ya Allah… please… send help,” she whispered.

She didn’t know when the tears began falling.

But they did.

Silently.

As she sat frozen, whispering verses, hoping for a miracle, for someone, anyone, to come before her fear consumed her completely.

Seconds turned into minutes.

Minutes crawled into an hour.

Ayeda sat frozen in the driver’s seat, her body trembling, her face streaked with dried tears. Her breathing came in shallow hiccups now — the kind that come after crying too long, too quietly.

Her eyes were swollen, rimmed red. Her scarf had slightly shifted from all the panic. Her hands clutched the steering wheel like it was the only thing anchoring her to this earth. And her heart?

It had nearly surrendered to fear.

She had whispered every prayer she knew.

And then

Knock. Knock.

A sudden, sharp tap against the car window made her flinch.

Startled, she turned — her heart skipping, her breath pausing.

And there they were.

Those eyes.

Black. Intense. Familiar.

Zarian.

For a heartbeat, she couldn’t move.

She just looked at him — like a drowning person who had just found the shore. She hadn’t expected him here, and yet… in some hidden corner of her soul, she always knew that if anyone was meant to find her in such a moment, it would be him.

Because that’s what Zarian Malik had unknowingly become for her

A silent protector. A presence that meant safety. Peace. Strength.

Her body moved instinctively — hand going for the door lock. She opened it, part of her wanting to leap into his arms, just to make sure he was real, that she was finally safe.

But she stopped.

Just inches away from that comfort… she froze.

Because reality wrapped around her like cold wind.

He was still a na-mehram.
She had no right — no reason — to collapse into him.

So she stood there… trembling, wide-eyed, broken from within but upright. Her dignity refusing to fall, even when every part of her wanted to crumble.

Zarian’s eyes scanned her face, his gaze falling on her tear-stained cheeks, her red nose, her trembling hands.

His jaw tightened.

And then came his voice — low, soft, aching with concern:

“Ya Allah… kya haal kar liya hai apne apna, Miss Khan?”

The words, gentle yet weighted crashed through her like waves.

And for the first time in that terrifying hour…

She let herself breathe.

Because he had come.

And in that one moment  without touching, without a single word exchanged beyond his concern — she felt held.

Zarian looked at her.
Really looked.

Her trembling fingers were still clutched tightly in her lap, her knuckles pale. Her eyes swollen, glassy, lost. The soft red of her nose, the faint quiver of her lips, the way her chest shook ever so slightly with hiccups… it was as if every inch of her was screaming, silently.

He wanted to hold her. Wrap his arms around her and say: “You’re safe now. I’m here.”

But he couldn’t.

Because love didn’t give him permission.

Because religion drew a line  and he had never dared cross it.

So he did the only thing his heart allowed.

Quietly, carefully, he pulled out his handkerchief.

His fingers reached toward her face slow, unsure and he gently, so delicately, dabbed the tears clinging to her cheeks. His knuckles barely touched her skin, like he was afraid she might shatter under his touch.

And Ayeda?

She broke.

The strength she had built over the last hour crumbled in that single gesture. Her eyes welled again, a fresh pool of tears streaming down without warning. Her lips trembled, and she turned her face away slightly  as if trying to hide the storm inside her.

Zarian’s hand froze.

Panic flashed in his eyes.

“Miss Khan..” his voice cracked, softer than a whisper. “Please… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I won’t.. Here, take it, just… please don’t cry.”

There was rawness in his voice now. Vulnerability.

His own heart twisting in pain at the sight of her like this.

He gently placed the handkerchief in her hand.

“Let’s… let’s go sit in the car. I’ll drop you home,” he said, steadying his tone.

Ayeda didn’t speak.

She didn’t trust her voice.

She simply nodded,once and stepped out of her car, moving slowly toward his.

And Zarian followed, his heart heavier than ever.

Because tonight, without a single word, he had seen more of her than she had ever allowed him before.

And he didn’t know how to carry the weight of that soft, aching trust.

Ayeda settled quietly in the passenger seat, her body still a little tense. Zarian, after strapping in, handed her a water bottle. She took it with a soft “thank you” and drank silently.

Zarian watched her not too closely, not too long  but just enough to see the way her fingers were still trembling slightly.

“Are you okay now?” he asked gently.

She nodded.

But he wasn’t convinced. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he’d seen her face.

Unable to hold back, he asked the question that had been clawing at his chest, “What happened? Are you hurt anywhere? Did someone do anything?”

His voice was tight layered with concern, care, and something else Ayeda couldn't name.

She met his gaze for a moment, then looked away and said softly, “I… I just got scared. My car broke down. My phone was dead. And there were some men standing not far from where I stopped. They weren’t doing anything but… I panicked. It was late, dark, and I didn’t know how my family would even find me. One hour passed and…”

She trailed off, eyes misting again.

Zarian clenched the steering wheel. One hour? She sat here, scared, for an hour? His jaw tightened.

“I should’ve left office earlier… if I had just reached a bit sooner..”

But he forced those thoughts aside. She didn’t need guilt. She needed calm.

Trying to change the subject, he started the car and asked casually, “Why don’t you keep a driver?”

She made a small pout  one that nearly undid him  and replied, “Because I don’t want to. I love driving. It’s one thing I can do without anyone’s help. It gives me peace… and freedom.”

Zarian glanced at her, a faint smile appearing. Peace and freedom…

“Hmm,” he nodded. “Just like your studies do, right?”

Ayeda gave him a deadpan look. “Studies also give me anxiety and stress. Driving only gives me relief.”

Zarian chuckled under his breath. “Fair point.”

He glanced sideways again, then asked, “Okay then, what else do you like besides driving and studying?”

Ayeda narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“No?” Zarian asked getting confused.

“Now it’s my turn. You’ve asked enough questions.” Her voice was soft, almost playful like a child who had finally found someone safe to open up to.

Zarian smirked but nodded. “Fair enough.”

“So…” she tapped her chin. “What should I ask? Hmm. I know your name. I know you’re Asia’s No.1 businessman. Your parents must be really proud of you.”

He gave a short smile. “They are.”

She tilted her head and asked, “What’s your age?”

“Thirty.”

“Thirty…” she echoed, eyes wide. “Aap toh bahut..” she suddenly stopped.
(You're too..)

Zarian raised an eyebrow. “Bahut bada hoon?”
(Too big?)

She quickly shook her head. “Nahi nahi… Bahut buddhe hain.”
(No,no.. Too old)

Zarian’s neck jerked toward her like she’d just slapped him. “Buddhe?! Seriously, Miss Khan?!”

That finally cracked her, she giggled, covering her mouth as she tried to hide the sound.

Zarian couldn’t help it. Her laugh, soft and melodic, pulled a rare smile to his lips. The memory of her swollen, tearful face slowly began to fade.

“Sorry, Mr. Malik,” she said between laughs.

He shook his head, mock-offended.

Then came another question. “Okay… are you married?”

The smile on his face faltered for a moment. He didn’t reply.

Ayeda noticed. Her voice quickly dropped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“I’m not married, Miss Khan,” Zarian replied, simply. Quietly.

“Oh…” she said, almost surprised. “But why not? I mean… you have everything. You’re rich, well-mannered, handso—”

She cut herself off mid-sentence, cheeks suddenly burning. “Sorry,” she muttered, turning her face toward the window.

Zarian didn’t tease her. He didn’t react.

He just looked ahead… and thought.

“Mere paas sab kuch hai, Miss Khan.
Siwaye uss naseeb ke…
jo aapko mera kar de.”

(I have everything, Miss Khan...
except the fate
that would make you mine.)

And just then, Ayeda screamed, “STOP!”

His foot hit the brake instantly.

___________________________________________