Breaking the hug, Ayeda whispered, almost shyly,

“Chalein?”

Zarian only nodded, his hand still holding hers firmly as they walked toward the car.

When they reached it, he moved ahead and pulled the driver’s side door open. Ayeda, assuming it was for himself, smiled faintly and began walking toward the passenger side.

But before she could reach it, Zarian caught her wrist gently.

“Where are you going?” his voice was calm but questioning.

She blinked at him, confused.

“To sit on the passenger seat…”

Zarian shook his head slowly, slipping his free hand into his pocket. A moment later, he pulled out the car keys and placed them softly into her palm.

For a heartbeat, Ayeda just stared at the cool metal resting against her skin, then at the man standing before her.

“Why… why are you giving me the keys?” she asked in genuine surprise.

Zarian’s lips curved into a quiet smile, his eyes steady on hers.

“Because you once said you love driving… that it gives you peace. And Begum…”

he paused, his voice turning gentle,
“…I won’t ever steal your peace.”

Ayeda’s breath hitched. It was such a small detail, something she had mentioned offhandedly, never imagining he’d remember and yet he did.

Her chest warmed, her lips trembled into a smile as her voice softened, “Aapko yaad tha?”
(You remembered?)

She didn’t know what overwhelmed her more.. that he remembered, or that he cared enough to give her that choice.

Zarian only opened the door wider, tilting his head slightly.
“Chalein, begum sahiba.”

A blush rose to her cheeks as she slipped into the seat, her heart fluttering. Zarian moved around and settled into the passenger side, his calm presence filling the space beside her.

The car began to roll forward, the silence between them not empty, but full - full of unspoken words, new trust, and the gentle rhythm of two souls quietly learning each other.

It wasn’t just silence. It was peace.

And together, in that shared peace, they drove toward Khan Mansion.

As they entered Khan Mansion, everyone was gathered in the hall. Ayeda, full of excitement, called out warmly, her voice loud enough to reach every corner,

“Assalamualaikum!”

All heads turned toward her. Smiles spread instantly, and in a heartbeat, everyone moved forward to greet the newlyweds, showering them with hugs and affection.

Zoya and Aliyah quickly brought tea and snacks, and soon the room was buzzing with laughter and lighthearted chatter.

After some time, Aliyah looked at Ayeda with a knowing smile.

“Ayeda, take Zarian to your room. Show him around, let him freshen up a little, hmm?”

“Ji, Ammi,” Ayeda replied, her cheeks warming slightly.

She glanced at Zarian, who gave a small nod. Together, they made their way upstairs.

When they stepped inside her room, Zarian paused. His eyes roamed over the walls filled with colorful sticky notes, brain structure diagrams, cranial nerve charts, and the piles of thick medical books stacked on the study table. A human skeleton model stood quietly in one corner, almost guarding the space. The room was less of a bedroom and more a small world of her dreams.

Zarian’s gaze softened as he murmured,

“Anyone can tell just by looking… you’re going to be a doctor. A neurosurgeon.”

Ayeda threw herself dramatically onto the soft, fluffy bed and exhaled, “Finally…”

Then she sat up, her lips tugging into a playful smile.

“So… this is my room. More like a study room, right?”

Zarian shook his head lightly, smiling.

“It shows how serious you are about your career. Every corner speaks of your determination.”

Her smile grew tender.

“Yes… my dream is to become a neurosurgeon. And I can do anything to make it happen.”

Zarian looked at her then - really looked. In her eyes, he saw fire, ambition, and a love for her purpose that made his chest swell with pride.

Quietly, almost like a promise, he said, “And I will always stand by your side… always support you…” His voice trailed.

Ayeda tilted her head, her lips curving in mischief.

“Mrs. Malik… that’s what you were going to say, right? You used to call me Miss Khan in every sentence. What happened now?”

Zarian blinked, caught off guard, scratching the back of his neck. His ears flushed red, betraying him.

“Exactly… that’s what I was going to say. And you said it first.”

“So say it, na… Mr. Malik,” Ayeda teased, her eyes twinkling with challenge.

Zarian cleared his throat, deliberately avoiding her gaze, pretending to study the walls of her room. But the tips of his ears burned even brighter.

Ayeda leaned closer, her voice playful yet feigned innocent.

“Kya hua? Gala kharab hai? Should I bring medicine?”

(What happened? Is your throat paining?)

When he finally turned toward her, she was just inches away. Her teasing smile lingered on her lips, but her eyes mischievous and alive caught him off guard. A slow smile tugged at his lips as he soaked in the sight of her.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, bracing his hands on either side of her, caging her softly against the bed.

His face moved closer, his warm breath fanning her skin. “I was saying…” his voice dropped, deep and rich.

Ayeda’s heartbeat stumbled.
“Y-yes… y-you were s-saying?” she stammered, her back pressing lightly into the headboard as if it could shield her from the storm of emotions rushing through her. Heat crept up her neck, flooding her cheeks with a deep crimson glow.

Zarian’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, his eyes never leaving her flustered face. He leaned closer, closing the remaining distance, and brushed the tip of his nose against her cheek in a tender nuzzle.

His warm breath ghosted over her skin as he whispered, voice low and husky,
“I was saying… red suits you.”

Her eyes widened, her cheeks catching fire. Just then, his phone rang.

He ignored it, leaning even closer until his beard brushed against her cheek, sending shivers racing down her spine. His lips hovered at her ear, his whisper like a caress,

“Mrs. Malik.”

Ayeda’s breath hitched sharply. Her fingers dug into her anarkali, goosebumps rising all over her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could steady her racing pulse. But hearing that name from his lips - so low, so intimate only made her heart hammer harder.

Zarian finally pulled back, watching her with a victorious smile, her flushed cheeks, trembling hands, and lips pressed together to hide the quiver.

The phone rang again. This time, with an amused sigh, he answered quickly. After ending the call, he found her sitting at the mirror, trying to compose herself, adjusting her dupatta with forced calm.

“I have some work,” he said softly, a teasing note laced in his tone. “I’ll come back in the evening.”

Ayeda only nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on the mirror.

He reached the door but stopped. Looking back at her, his smile turned wicked.

“Bye… Mrrrsss. Malik.” he intentionally stretched it.

Her head snapped up, her blush deepening instantly. She cupped her face with both hands, hiding behind them. “Jaiye na… kyun sata rahe hain?”

(Go.. Why are you teasing me?)

He raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Main sata raha hoon? Are youSure?”

(I'm teasing you?)

“Ji… aap,” she muttered, muffled behind her palms.

(Yes.. You)

Zarian chuckled, his voice deliberately low and teasing.

“Toh theek hai… shaam ko aata hoon. Phir decide karte hain, Begum… kaun kisko zyada satata hai.”

(Alright then… I’ll come in the evening. Then we’ll decide, Begum… who teases whom more.)

Ayeda squealed, burying her face deeper into her hands, her ears crimson.

She peeked up just enough to see his smug grin before he finally turned to leave.

“Prepare yourself, Mrs. Malik,” he added over his shoulder, his tone both playful and promising.

Her breath caught again, her heart still thundering long after he walked out.

Ayeda stood before the mirror, her reflection betraying her, cheeks crimson, lips trembling with the ghost of a smile.

His words kept echoing in her ears,
“Red suits you… Mrs. Malik.”

She groaned softly, covering her face with both hands.

“Aur satao unko, Ayeda… kya zaroorat thi badmashi karne ki? Say it, Mr. Malik… gala kharab hai kya, chahiye dawa?”

(And keep teasing him, Ayeda… what was the need to act mischievous? Say it, Mr. Malik… is your throat sore, do you need medicine?)

she mimicked herself in a low voice, then dropped her hands, glaring at her own reflection.

“Dekha? Ulta padh gaya na… magar woh toh kuch karenge hi nahi. Bilkul masoom hain.”

(See? It backfired, didn’t it… but he still won’t do anything. He’s completely innocent.)

She paused, tilting her head, her voice dropping into a whisper as if asking the mirror itself,
“Hai na… mr.malik?”

But then, another memory intruded, his husky whisper at the door,
“Prepare yourself, Mrs. Malik.”

Ayeda’s eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief.

“Uff… prepare? For what, haan? Exam? War? Ya… embarrassment?”

she muttered, throwing her hands in the air before collapsing on the bed with a dramatic sigh.

Her blush refused to leave, and with one last squeal of frustration she buried her face in her palms.

“Allah… yeh mujhe pagal kar ke chodenge.”

(Allah… he’s going to drive me crazy.)

Finally, shaking her head at herself, she decided to distract her racing heart. Straightening her dupatta, she left the room and made her way downstairs, determined to drown her thoughts in family chatter at least for now.

As Ayeda stepped into the hall, her eyes softened at the sight of her family. She quietly walked over and settled beside her abbu, Iqbal.

Resting her head gently on his shoulder, she felt the comfort of home, of being his little girl again. Iqbal placed his hand over hers and smiled tenderly.

“How are you, my gudiya?” he asked softly.

Ayeda lifted her gaze, and in his eyes she saw what his words didn’t say. He wasn’t just asking if she was fine.. he wanted to know if his daughter was truly happy. If she was at peace with the sudden decision he had taken for her, without even asking her. She could sense it wasn’t just him; her mother, her taya abbu, and taya ammi, all seated nearby, carried the same unease in their eyes.

She smiled brightly, squeezing his hand. “I’m fine, Abbu… not just fine, I’m happy.”

Relief visibly washed over their faces. Shoulders relaxed, smiles bloomed. It was as if her words had lifted a weight none of them had spoken aloud.

Then, with a childlike pout, she added innocently,
“Abbu, do you know why he said yes to the nikah?”

Everyone’s brows knitted in curiosity. They exchanged glances, certain that Zarian must have confessed something to her, maybe about the proposal he had sent earlier, or his quiet affection for her.

But before anyone could voice their guess, Ayeda continued, eyes wide with mock seriousness.

“Because… he doesn’t know how to say no,” she declared, frowning as though it were the gravest flaw in the world.

Zoya, her tayiammi, leaned forward in concern.

“Did Zarian himself tell you this, beta?”

Ayeda quickly shook her head, her dupatta shifting lightly with the motion.

“Nahi, nahi… woh kya kahenge! Maine khud dekha hai. Kissi ka Dil na dukhe is liye har baat pe ‘haan’ kar dete hain. Allah ne unhe kuch zyada hi achha bana diya hai…” she huffed, her lips forming the cutest pout.

(No, no… what will he say! I’ve seen it myself. To avoid hurting anyone’s heart, he say ‘yes’ to everything. Allah has made him far too good…)

Her family exchanged knowing smiles at her words - a mix of amusement, fondness, and a subtle pride. 

Iqbal was smiling quietly, his eyes soft as he looked at his daughter.

“Why are you smiling, Abbu?” Ayeda asked, tilting her head, curious.

Placing his hand gently on her head, Iqbal replied,

“dekh raha hoon, Aaj mere saamne sirf meri beti nahi… kisi ki begum baithi hai, baat kar rahi hai.”

(I can see, today in front of me is not just my daughter… but someone’s wife, sitting and talking.)

Ayeda blinked, confused at his words. Her voice was innocent, almost childlike as she asked,

“Kyun, Abbu? Agar larkiyan apne shauhar ki baat apne Abbu ke saamne karen… toh kya woh betiyan kam aur kisi ki biwi zyada lagti hain?”

(Why, Abbu? If daughters talk about their husbands in front of their father… does that make them less a daughter and more someone’s wife?)

She wasn’t teasing, not taunting, just genuinely worried if her father felt that way.

Iqbal smiled tenderly at her innocence. He held her hand and said,

“Nahi, gudiya… aisa bilkul nahi hai. Jab betiyan iss tarah baat karti hain, toh bas yeh samajh aata hai ke meri chhoti si beti badi ho gayi hai. Ab woh sirf meri beti hi nahi, balki kisi ki zimmedari bhi hai. Aur doosri baat…” He squeezed her hand lovingly.

(No… that’s absolutely not the case. When daughters talk like this, it only shows that my little daughter has grown up. Now she’s not just my daughter, but someone else’s responsibility too. And another thing…)

“Jab betiyan befikar hoke apne dil ki baat abbu se karti hai woh betiya kaam or kissi biwi zaada nahi lagti.. Balki apni beti zaada lagti joh aj b apne abbu ke pass aati hai apne dil ka haal sunane - ap humne kisi ki biwi lage ya na lage humari pyaari si gudiya zaroor lagti hai."

(When daughters share their hearts openly with their fathers, they don’t seem less like daughters or more like someone’s wife… Instead, they feel even more like our own daughters, the same ones who still come to their father to pour out what’s in their hearts. Whether you seem like someone’s wife or not, but to us you will always be our sweet little daughter.)

Ayeda’s eyes grew moist at his words. She leaned forward and hugged him tightly.
"You’re the best, Abbu. Main kisi ki biwi zaroor hoon… lekin sabse pehle main aapki beti hoon. Aur hamesha rahungi.”

Iqbal chuckled softly, patting her back. To lighten the mood, he teased,

“Bas ek baat yaad rakhna, gudiya… apne kuch zyada hi ache shauhar ka khayal zaroor rakhna.”

Ayeda pulled back, her brows knitting in mock-complaint. “Abbu!” she protested, her lips forming an accusing pout.

Iqbal grinned,

“Arrey, tumne hi toh kaha hai… Zarian sabko haan keh deta hai, na? Toh kisi ko toh uska khayal rakhna padega.”

Before Ayeda could respond, Ibrahim, her Taya Abbu, chuckled and added,

“Bilkul! Kisko kyun? Hamari gudiya hai uske kuch zyada ache shauhar ki begum.”

Ayeda’s lips parted in disbelief.
“Taya Abbu… aap bhi!” she whined, her pout deepening.

This time her mother, Aliyah, joined the teasing.

“Arrey sahi toh keh rahe hain… duniya kuch zyada hi buri hai, toh apne kuch zyada ache shauhar ko bachana toh Zarian ki begum ka kaam hai.”

“Ammiii…” Ayeda winced, covering her face with her hands.

Just then, Zoya, her Tayi Ammi came to her rescue.

“Bas karo sab! Kyun pareshan kar rahe ho meri bachi ko, hmm?”

Ayeda immediately went and sat beside her, clutching her arm.

“Dekhiye na Tayi Ammi, sab mujhe sata rahe hain!” she complained like a little child.

Zoya smiled, pulling her close.

“Mat satayo Ayeda ko. Warna yeh apne kuch zyada ache shauhar se hamari shikayat kar degi.”

Ayeda gasped, looking at her with mock accusation. “Tayi Ammi, aap bhi?”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“Aap sab kitne bure hai!” Ayeda huffed, puffing her cheeks, her pout now full-fledged.

“Haan haan… ab apke kuch zyada ache shauhar ke saamne toh hum sab toh bure hi lagenge,” they said in unison, still laughing.

Ayeda stood up with a dramatic “Humph!” and turned on her heel.

“Main apne kamre mein ja rahi hoon!” she declared, cheeks red, pout firmly in place.

Everyone watched her go with warm smiles, their hearts full seeing their gudiya glowing with happiness.

It was late evening when Zarian returned to Khan Mansion. He was told Ayeda was in her room, so he quietly made his way upstairs.

Knocking softly first, he entered and found her sitting on the bed, phone in hand, with a small suitcase of things she wanted to take with her neatly packed beside her.

She didn’t look up when he entered, and he didn’t speak at first, simply went and sat beside her. For a while, silence stretched between them, but Zarian, noticing the change in her demeanor, frowned.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

Ayeda only shook her head, her eyes still on her phone.

His brows furrowed. Leaning closer, his voice laced with concern, he asked again,

“Kissi ne kuch kaha hai apse, Begum?”

(Did someone said something to you?)

Ayeda turned slightly, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye, before quickly looking away, hiding the small smile tugging at her lips. She thought her husband looked far too cute when he was this worried.

Zarian, however, wasn’t convinced. Gently taking the phone from her hand, he turned her fully toward him, his expression innocent yet insistent.

“Please… bataiye na, Begum.”

(Please... Tell me)

She finally met his gaze, her eyes twinkling as she admitted with a pout,

“Sab satarahe the mujhe.”

(Everyone was teasing me)

His frown deepened.
“Kya keh kar sata rahe the… meri Begum ko?”

(What were they teasing about?)

Ayeda’s pout deepened, her voice soft but playful. “Apko lekar.”

(About you)

Zarian’s lips curved into a small smile. “Mere baare mein… kya keh rahe the, Begum?”

(What were they saying about me?)

Ayeda blinked innocently, then confessed in a rush,

“Woh… woh maine galti se keh diya tha ke Allah ne apko kuch zaada banaya hai… toh sab mujhe sata rahe the ‘zaada ache shauhar’ kehkar.”

(Uh… I mistakenly said that Allah made you a little too perfect… so everyone was teasing me, calling you an ‘extra-good husband.’)

Zarian’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Galti se?” he teased. “Matlab… main waise acha hoon hi nahi?”

(Mistakenly? That means I'm not extra-good in real?)

Her eyes went wide in panic as she shook her head quickly.

“Nahi, nahi… hai ap!”

(No,no... You're)

He tilted his head, pressing on. “Matlab… main kuch zaada acha hoon?”

(You mean.. I'm little too prefect in real?)

“Haan matlab...” Ayeda began innocently, but then realization dawned on her. Narrowing her eyes at him, she huffed.

“Aap bhi… satarahe mujhe?”

(You're also teasing me?)

Zarian immediately shook his head, feigning innocence.
“Nahi, Begum. Main toh sirf pooch raha hoon.”

(No. I'm just asking)

She pointed her finger at him, cheeks glowing.
“Ap jitne masoom dikhte hain, utne hai nahi, Mr. Malik.”

(You’re not as innocent as you look, Mr. Malik.)

His smirk grew.
“Accha… toh main apko masoom bhi lagta hoon, Mrs. Malik?”

(Oh… so I even look innocent to you, Mrs. Malik?)

Ayeda’s cheeks flamed crimson, her heart racing. But maintaining her posture, she sniffed and muttered,
“Bht bure hain aap bhi. Mujhe nahi karni aapse baat.” With that, she stood up and started toward the door.

(You’re very mean too. I don’t want to talk to you.)

Panic flickered in Zarian’s eyes. He immediately reached for her hand, holding it gently but firmly. His voice dropped, raw and vulnerable.

“Theek hai… ab nahi sataunga. Lekin baat karna band mat kijiye mujhse… please, Begum.”

(Alright… I won’t tease you anymore. But please don’t stop talking to me… please, Begum.)

Ayeda paused, surprised by the genuine fear hiding in his tone. She turned to look at him, and in his eyes she saw it, something unspoken, fragile, as though he couldn’t bear even the thought of her silence.

For a moment, her heart squeezed but she couldn't understand his fear, why could he fear if she didn't speak for a while?. She just shake her head and thought maybe she is thinking too much.

Softening, she smiled warmly.

“Arrey, Mr. Malik… main toh bas keh rahi thi. Sach mein thodi na baat karna band nahi karungi aapse.”

(Oh, Mr. Malik… I was just saying it. I’d never actually stop talking to you.)

Relief washed over him, and his grip on her hand loosened as his lips curved into a smile that reached his eyes.

Later, they both went down to join the family for dinner. After cheerful goodbyes, they left for Malik Mansion.

This time, Zarian insisted on driving  and Ayeda happily let him, leaning back in her seat with a soft smile. After all, today she had been teased enough, so it's time to relax and enjoy being “passenger princess."

“In her pout he found playfulness,
in her words he found comfort but
in her silence, he found his deepest fear.”

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