Ayeda and Zarian came downstairs, where the family was already busy setting the dining table. Instinctively,

Ayeda stepped forward to help, her gentle presence drawing everyone’s eyes. Smiles spread across their faces, and Daniyal and Maliha cheered together,

“Good morning, bhabhi!”

Ayeda’s lips curved into a warm smile as she greeted them back. Since the table was already set, they all settled down for breakfast.

Just as the atmosphere felt light and pleasant, a feminine voice broke through:

“Assalamualaikum, bhaiya.”

Every head turned toward the doorway. Standing there was Zubair’s sister---salma with her two daughters beside her.

The cheerful mood shifted almost instantly. Daniyal and Maliha exchanged a look, their expressions souring.

Daniyal muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Maliha,

“Aagayi yeh phir se… zaroor kuch tamasha karegi.”

(She’s here again… she’ll definitely create some drama.)

Ayeda caught his words. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and she leaned closer to Maliha, whispering softly,

“Who’s she?”

Maliha bent towards her and murmured back, “phuphu… and her daughters.”

Daniyal added quickly, his tone protective,

“Woh kuch bhi bole, ignore karna bhabhi.”

(No matter what she says, just ignore her, bhabhi.)

Ayeda simply nodded, her calm face giving nothing away.

Salma and her daughters joined them at the dining table. With grace, Ayeda greeted politely,

“Assalamualaikum.”

Salma replied, her smile tight and far from sweet,

“Walaikumassalam.”

Then, turning to Ayeda, Salma smirked and said,

“I heard what happened with you… your groom ran away on the wedding day. So unfortunate. But Zarian has such a big heart, he married you out of sympathy, without even thinking.”

Ayeda’s hand froze midway. She didn’t dare to lift her eyes. She was terrified of seeing the truth in their gazes.. sympathy, pity, or worse, silent agreement.

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to swallow the bite of food, as if nothing had happened.

Before her thoughts could suffocate her further, a voice cut through the silence.

“We chose Ayeda as our daughter-in-law because we know she and Zarian will be happy together. I hope I’m clear, Salma.”

It was Zubair’s firm voice.

“Ji… bhaiya,” Salma muttered, her tone subdued as she looked down at her plate.

For a moment, silence returned, only for her to strike again.

“Bhabhi, looks like you’ve made breakfast yourself? Don’t your daughters-in-law know how to cook? What did you even find in this girl...she can’t even manage a kitchen?”

Iqra’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp as a blade.

“We wanted a wife for our Zarian, not a cook.”

But Salma wasn’t done. Her next words were a dagger.

“Why did you marry her to Zarian? My daughter would have been far better than her.”

This time, Ayeda’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She kept staring down at her plate, her chest aching with suffocation.

A fragile hope still flickered inside her, that Zarian would say something, anything, in her defense. But then her heart whispered bitterly,
‘Woh mere samne bhi kuch nahi kehte… yahan kya kahenge?’

(He don’t say anything even in front of me… what will he say here?)

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she lowered her gaze further, trying to make herself invisible.

But then… she felt the air shift beside her.

Zarian, who had been clenching his fists under the table, could no longer hold back.

He had stayed silent out of respect as  she was his father’s only sister. But the moment she dared to say her daughter was better than his wife, his begum… something inside him snapped.

He pushed back his chair and rose. Everyone turned in surprise as he walked to Ayeda’s side. Without hesitation, he bent down, took her trembling hand in his.

She finally looked up... her moist eyes meeting his and the sight pierced his chest like a blade.

He made her stood with holding her hand and with the other hand pulled a bundle of cash from his pocket. Circling it over her head, his voice rang out, firm and clear for the whole family to hear:

“Sadqa utaar raha hoon… mai nahi chahta kisi ki buri nazar lage aapko, begum.”

(I’m doing sadqa (warding off evil)… I don’t want anyone’s evil eye to fall on you, my wife.)

The Malik family’s faces lit with pride, a silent approval glowing in their eyes. And then Zarian turned, his gaze colliding with his phuphu’s. His sharp, unflinching glare said it all:
I respect you but dare to insult my wife again, and you’ll regret it.

Ayeda stood frozen, stunned. He hadn’t made any grand speeches, nor any flowery promises. Yet his action spoke volumes, louder than words ever could. He had shown, without hesitation, how deeply he respected her.

Gently, he pulled her chair forward again and guided her to sit. Sliding back beside her, he leaned in close enough that only she could hear, his voice low and steady.

“Aap ke aage nahi bolta hoon… kyunki mujhe aapko sunna acha lagta hai. Lekin doosron ke aage bolta hoon... khaaskar jab baat meri begum ki ho.”

(I don’t say anything in front of you… because I like to hear you. But I do speak in front of others… especially when it’s about my wife.)

A smile bloomed on Ayeda’s lips, soft and trembling. Words deserted her. She only nodded, her heart too full to speak.

As breakfast ended, Salma leaned forward with her trademark over-sweet smile.

“Zarian beta, can you drop Mariyam to her friend’s house? It’s on your way to the office.”

Across the table, Daniyal exhaled in frustration and muttered to Maliha,

“She do this every time. She's still trying to push Mariyam towards Zarian bhai, as if he isn’t married now.”

Ayeda overheard them. She didn’t say a word at first, only turned her gaze toward Zarian. He was staring at his phone, his face calm but distant.

“Driver will drop her, phuphu,” he replied, his voice polite but clipped.

But Salma wasn’t ready to give up.

“Why would she go with a driver when you can drop her? Now you’ll refuse your phuphu?”

Zarian ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed. “Okay.”

That one word cut into Ayeda more than Salma’s persistence. She saw the hesitation in his eyes, the discomfort in his posture. He didn’t want this, yet he still couldn’t say no. He can fight the whole world for me… but not for himself.

Her chest tightened. Not anymore. If he won’t protect himself, then I will.

Ayeda rose from her chair and walked to his side, her movements calm but resolute. Sliding her hand into his, she spoke firmly, her voice carrying across the dining room.

“No. He will not drop her.”

Every head at the table turned in stunned silence.

Salma’s eyes blazed. “And who do you think you are, to interfere between us?”

Ayeda met her glare without flinching. Her fingers tightened around Zarian’s hand, her voice steady but sharp.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten. Let me remind you...” she paused, her chin lifting with quiet pride

“I’m his wife. Mrs. Ayeda Zarian Malik.”

A full-bloom smile spread across Iqra and Zubair’s faces. Pride glimmered in their eyes, while Maliha, unable to contain her happiness, leaned towards Daniyal and whispered with a wide grin,

“I’m so glad… finally there’s someone who will fight for bhai too. He always suppresses his feelings, hides his thoughts just because he’s the eldest. But now... now I think bhabhi will bring out our real Zarian bhai.”

Salma’s face darkened, her glare shifting straight to Ayeda.

“Kitni badtameez ladki hai… who takes her husband’s name so openly? Till today, my daughter has never called Zarian by his name, she always addresses him with suniye.”

Ayeda’s jaw clenched, but instead of breaking, she let out a soft, mocking laugh. Her voice was sharp as steel coated with sugar.

“How unfair of you, aunty… to burden your daughter with this. But it’s okay, I’ll teach her what’s right.”

She turned her eyes toward Mariyam, her grip on Zarian’s hand steady, her tone turning firm.

“Kaho… Bhaiya.”

The room froze. Daniyal and Maliha instantly clapped their hands over their mouths, shaking with suppressed laughter.

Mariyam stiffened, her lips trembling. When she didn’t answer, Ayeda’s gaze hardened, her voice dropping low in a commanding sternness that carried no room for refusal.

“kaho...”

Mariyam gulped nervously, her eyes darting from her mother to Zarian, before finally whispering,

“B-bhaiya…”

A victorious smile curved on Ayeda’s lips. She turned back to Salma, her eyes gleaming with quiet defiance.

“See? Not that hard, was it? Your daughter addressed him without taking his name, as it should be. After all, to her, he’s nothing more than a brother.”

The words landed heavy in the air, silencing the table.

And amidst it all, Zarian stood frozen. Every word she spoke, every sharp edge of her voice, every protective claim was piercing straight into his heart. His chest tightened as his heart skipped uncontrollably.

Her hand still clutched his with such fierce conviction, its warmth burning into his skin, telling him without words... you’re mine, and I’ll fight for you, even if you won’t fight for yourself.

For the first time in years, Zarian Malik, stoic, composed, unshaken felt his breath hitch… because of his wife.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Iqra gently broke it, turning to Ayeda.

“Ayeda, today you should also go to Khan Mansion… they must be missing you just as much as you, hmm?”

Ayeda smiled softly. “Ji, Ammi.”

She then looked at Zarian and asked warmly, “Chalein?”

He gave a small nod, and together they walked out.

But as they reached the gate, Ayeda suddenly stopped. Zarian halted beside her immediately, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Kya hua?” he asked quietly.

(What happened?)

Ayeda turned toward him, her gaze sharp yet tender.

“Why can’t you ever say no? If you can fight the whole world for me, then why not for yourself?...  Kyun hain aap aise?”

For a moment, Zarian just looked at her... really looked at her. His silence carried the weight of years, but then he smiled faintly and said in a low, steady voice,

“Agar aap kahengi… toh badal dunga apne aapko.”

(If you say so… I will change myself.)

Her brows knitted in disbelief.
“Badal dunga apne aapko?” she repeated, her voice trembling.

He gently squeezed her hand, grounding her.

“Haan… koshish karunga. Jaisa aapko pasand ho, waisa banne ki.”

(Yes… I will try. To become the way you like.)

Ayeda’s eyes moistened. This man… was he even real? How could he say so simply that he would change just because she asked? She thought to herself: No, he shouldn’t change. He is rare, pure, and precious exactly the way he is.

A soft, almost teary smile touched her lips. “Please… mat badaliye. Aap bilkul waise hi rahiyega jaisa hain... Mai lardlungi sabse apke liye" she muttered last part to herself.

(Please… don’t change. Stay exactly the way you are... I’ll fight everyone for you.)

Zarian’s heart stilled, then softened. His lips curved into a gentle smile.

“Jaisa aap chahe, begum.”

(As you wish, my wife)

Her protectiveness sparked then, fierce and tender. She held his gaze and whispered with quiet strength,

“Agar apko kuch pasand na ho, ap inkaar karsakhte hai.. Phir mai bhi dekhti hoon woh kaam karne keliye kon kehta hai apko.”

(If you don’t like something, you can say no. Then I’ll see who would dare ask you to do that.)

Listening to her words, a deep warmth spread through Zarian’s chest. For the first time in his life, someone wasn’t ordering him, wasn’t silencing him under the weight of “tum bade ho, tumhe bardasht karna hoga.”

For the first time, someone was telling him his feelings mattered too.

He had spent so long buried in work and family duties that he had forgotten his yes and no carried any value. But she.. this woman who had entered his life just yesterday stood like a shield in front of him, ready to fight the whole world to protect even the smallest corner of his heart.

Overwhelmed, Zarian’s throat tightened. His voice, when it came, was soft, hesitant, carrying both hope and vulnerability.

“Gale lagalo apko… ijazat hai?”

(May I hug you… do I have your permission?)

Ayeda froze, her eyes widening. Was he… really asking? Even now? Even as her husband?

Her heart stuttered. From the very first moment she had met him, he had done the same always putting her comfort before his own, always considering her choice first, as if her voice was the only one that mattered. And today, even while claiming her as his wife, he was still seeking her permission for something as simple as a hug.

To the world, it might seem so small. But to Ayeda, it wasn’t small at all. It was everything. It was respect. It was care in its purest form.

Her eyes grew glassy, her lips quivered, and before she could stop herself, she crashed into his chest, her arms wrapping around him tightly as if she was afraid he might disappear.

Her voice trembled, breaking under the weight of her emotions as she whispered,

“Haq hai aapka… sirf aapka.”

Zarian’s world stilled. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t breathe. Then, slowly, his arms encircled her, firm, protective, possessive as if he was building a fortress around her with his embrace. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the comfort that only she could bring.

He vowed no one would ever wound her with words, and she vowed no one would ever chain him with expectations.

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