ZORAVAR ESTATE

Zaid ran towards their bedroom, his arms carefully wrapped around Ava as if she was something fragile he was terrified of breaking.

What had he done?

The thought kept repeating in his mind, louder than anything else. This was his mistake. He had left her alone when she needed someone beside her. She had entered a completely unfamiliar world overnight. A new house. New faces. New traditions. New responsibilities.

And even him.

She knew nothing about him, nothing about his world, nothing about the people who surrounded him. Yet he had walked away before she had even opened her eyes yesterday morning.

"Ya Allah..." he whispered, his voice breaking. "What have I done?"

He carefully placed Ava on the bed, making sure not to hurt her any further. His eyes immediately fell on the bruise near her head. His heart sank. It looked worse than before.

"Shit..."

The word escaped him quietly, filled with fear. He pulled the blanket over her gently, his fingers lingering for a moment as he looked at her unconscious face. The woman who had become his responsibility, his wife, was lying there hurt—and he hadn't even been there.

He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

 "Aman..." 

His voice echoed through the empty Zoravar Estate. Aman, who was standing downstairs, almost flinched. He had worked with Sahab for years. He had seen Zaid angry, frustrated, determined.

But never like this. Never with this much rage.

"Sahab..." Aman replied carefully.

(''Sir'')

"Where is the doctor?"

The sharpness in Zaid's voice made the entire hallway feel heavier.

"I called again, Sahab. The doctor is coming—"

"I don't care."

Zaid's eyes were filled with panic, his thoughts trapped on the image of Ava lying on the floor in his study. Her body crumbled. Her face pale. The bruise on her head. All because he wasn't there.

"Call him again, Aman," he ordered, his voice rising. "Or call another doctor. Just get someone here."

His breathing became heavier.

"My wife has fainted. Do you understand that?"

The last words came out almost like a plea.

"Just go."

Aman's eyes softened, but he immediately nodded and rushed to follow the order. Because this wasn't anger. This was fear. It was guilt. It was helplessness.

Zaid stood there, running his hands through his hair, trying to control the storm inside him. He had spent years fighting for people. Fighting for children who had no one. Fighting for those who were forgotten.

But today, when the one person who needed him most entered his life...

He wasn't there. It had barely been a day since their marriage. Ava didn't know his world. She didn't know this house. She didn't know the people around her.

And most importantly...

She didn't know him.

The door suddenly opened. Dr. Rahman entered the room, carrying his briefcase. The moment his eyes landed on Zaid, he noticed something he had never seen before.

Fear.

Guilt.

Desperation.

He had known Zaid since he was a little boy, since Shahveer and Mahira had brought him into their lives. He had watched him grow into a man who carried the burdens of thousands.

But he had never seen him look this broken.

"Beta..." Dr. Rahman said softly. "Don't worry. Let me check on her, okay?"

Zaid only nodded. But the worry in his eyes didn't disappear. He looked like a man standing seconds away from falling apart.

Dr. Rahman sat beside Ava and checked her pulse. It was steady. Relief flickered briefly in Zaid's eyes. But then the doctor's gaze moved towards the bruise on the side of her head.

"It looks like she fell hard on the floor, beta," Rahman said quietly.

The words hit him instantly. Fell hard. Zaid froze. His mind replayed everything. She had been alone. She had been scared. She had fallen. 

And he wasn't there.

"Ya Allah..."

His voice came out barely above a whisper.

"What kind of husband am I?"

He stepped back, leaning against the wall as he pulled at his hair.

"This is my fault."

His voice cracked.

"All of this is my fault."

His fingers tightened against his hair, almost as if he wanted to feel the same pain she had felt. The pain of being hurt. The pain of being alone.

"Zaid..."

Rahman looked at him with sadness.

After a few more moments of examining Ava, the doctor finally spoke.

"Beta, listen to me. She seems to have fainted because of exhaustion and the overwhelming change around her. A new place, new people, new emotions... sometimes the body reacts."

He placed a comforting hand on Zaid's shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself. It isn't your fault."

Zaid stayed silent. He heard the words. But he couldn't accept them. Because deep inside, he knew.

Maybe the fall wasn't his fault. Maybe the bruise wasn't his fault. But leaving her alone when she needed him...

That was.

For the first time in his life, Zaid felt guilt so deep it shook the very foundation of who he believed he was. He had always thought he was a good man. A man who protected people. A man who cared. A man loved by everyone around him. 

But standing there beside his unconscious wife, on the very first day of their marriage...

He wondered if he had failed at the one role that mattered the most.

Being her husband.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

IQBAL HOUSE

Saira stood in the tiny kitchen of their modest home, gently rolling out rotis for her daughters. From the small living room, the sound of Amna and Sana's laughter echoed through the house as they watched television together.

A soft smile found its way onto her lips. That laughter... It was what kept her alive.

Every sacrifice she made, every hour she worked, every hardship she endured—it was all worth it because of those two little girls.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Her smile widened instantly.

Zain...

It had to be him.

Zain Iqbal.

A man who had loved her through every season of life, whether they had abundance or barely enough to survive.

And he loved Amna and Sana as though Allah Himself had entrusted them to his heart.

They weren't wealthy. Their house was small. Their furniture was worn. But Saira never considered herself poor. Because she possessed the greatest wealth Allah could bless someone with—a loving husband and two beautiful daughters.

Moments later, the front door opened. Almost immediately, she heard the girls squeal with delight.

She smiled to herself. Zain must have picked them both up and spun them around like he always did.

Turning off the stove, she hurried into the living room.

There he stood. His shirt was dusty from work, his sleeves worn from countless days of labour, yet his face carried nothing but warmth as he held both girls close before pressing kisses onto each of their foreheads.

Only then did he look up. His gaze landed on Saira.

Ya Allah...

How had He blessed him with a woman this beautiful?

She stood there in her simple salwar kameez, her dupatta neatly draped over her shoulders, her long braid resting against her back, carrying a tray with a single glass of water—the closest thing they had to serving a guest with elegance.

To anyone else, she was ordinary.

To Zain...

She was the most beautiful woman in the world. Saira smiled softly as she offered him the water. Instead of taking the glass, Zain gently lifted the tray from her hands and placed it on the nearby table.

Without saying a single word, he wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

A startled blush spread across Saira's cheeks. Instinctively, her arms slipped around his neck.

Zain lifted her completely off the ground before burying his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of coconut oil.

It always made him feel like he was finally home.

"Zain... aap kya kar rahe hain? Amna aur Sana dekh rahi hain," she whispered shyly.

("Zain... what are you doing? Amna and Sana are watching.")

Even as she protested, her arms never loosened around his neck.

Zain only chuckled. Instead of letting go, his embrace tightened.

His face disappeared into the crook of her neck, making her blush deepen even more.

"Zain..." she whispered again, completely flustered.

He glanced over his shoulder. Both girls had already gone back to watching television. Smirking to himself, he carried Saira toward their bedroom.

She lightly smacked his chest.

"Zain! Kya kar rahe hain? Dal jal jayegi."

("Zain! What are you doing? The dal is going to burn!")

"I'll cook it again, jaan," he murmured. "Don't worry about that."

Walking into their tiny bedroom, he finally placed her back on the floor.

Saira crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Kya chal raha hai aapke dimaag mein?"

("What's going on in that mind of yours?")

He shoved his hands into his pockets with exaggerated innocence.

"Nothing."

Then a grin slowly spread across his face.

"But... I do have good news."

His eyes sparkled. Saira's heart skipped. Good news? Their lives had been nothing but struggles lately. If Zain called something good...

Then surely Allah had answered their prayers. She looked at him expectantly.

Zain stepped closer.

"I got promoted, jaan."

Her eyes widened.

"I'll be supervising the shipments now. I'll decide where they go and how they leave. It's a much bigger responsibility."

His smile grew brighter.

"I'll be away for longer hours, but I won't have to travel anymore."

He gently cupped her face.

"And..."

"My salary is double."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"Tomorrow we're going to the market."

His grin turned almost boyish.

"I'm buying you the prettiest sharara you can find."

"And dresses for Amna and Sana."

Saira's vision blurred. Not because of sadness. Because of overwhelming gratitude. This man worked until his body ached every single day. Yet the first people he thought about... Were his wife and daughters.

Not himself.

In that moment... She realised she was the richest woman alive. What more could she ever ask Allah for?

Her daughters could finally go to school. Her husband had earned the promotion he deserved. Their future suddenly looked brighter.

Ya Allah... shukriya.

Zain frowned when he noticed tears gathering in her eyes.

"Saira?"

He stepped closer, cupping her face in both hands before resting his forehead against hers.

"Aap ro kyun rahi hain, meri jaan?"

("Why are you crying, my love?")

She smiled through her tears.

"Kuch nahi..."

("Nothing...")

"Bas bahut khush hoon."

("I'm just very happy.")

Relief washed over his face.

He laughed softly.

"Pagli."

("Silly girl.")

"Khushi mein bhi koi rota hai?"

("Who cries when they're happy?")

He kissed her forehead once more.

"Bas... ab aur aansu nahi."

("Enough... no more tears now.")

She nodded before remembering something.

"Humein bhi aapko kuch batana hai."

("I have something to tell you too.")

"Haan?"

(''Yes?")

She told him everything. How Begum Sahiba had met Amna and Sana at the estate. How she had asked why they weren't in school. How, without hesitation, she had handed Saira enough money for their education.

Zain stood frozen. For several long seconds... He couldn't even breathe.

Ya Allah...

Was it true?

Could their daughters really go to school?

He looked at Saira with tear-filled eyes before suddenly pulling her into a crushing embrace. He buried his face in her shoulder, unable to hide his sob.

"Hamari bachiyan..."

(''Our daughters...'')

"They can really go to school?"

His voice trembled. Saira nodded against his chest.

"Ji."

(''Yes.'')

"Begum Sahiba gave me enough money."

(Begum Sahiba = Mrs Zoravar)

"They'll finally study."

The tears Zain had been holding back escaped. He closed his eyes tightly.

"Ya Allah..."

"Begum Sahiba ko hamesha khush rakhna."

(''"Always keep Begum Sahiba happy.")

"Unki har dua qubool farmaana."

("May all her prayers be answered.")

He held Saira even closer.

"Ab sab theek ho jayega, jaan."

("Everything will be alright now, jaan.")

He kissed the top of her head. Neither of them wanted to let go.

Just then, little footsteps padded across the floor. Amna and Sana had been searching for their parents. Finding them wrapped in each other's embrace, the girls smiled innocently before walking over and wrapping their tiny arms around their parents' legs.

Zain and Saira looked down. Their hearts melted.

Together, they bent down and gathered both daughters into their embrace.

Inside that tiny house, with worn-out walls and very little money... They possessed everything that truly mattered.

And in that moment, they silently promised one another—

No matter how difficult life became...

They would face every storm together.

As a family.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

ZORAVAR ESTATE

NEXT MORNING

Morning had arrived at the Zoravar Estate, but the heaviness of the previous night still lingered within its walls.

Zaid hadn't left the bedroom for even a single moment. He sat beside the bed, his weary eyes fixed on Ava's sleeping face. The ointment Dr. Rahman had applied had begun to soothe the bruise on her forehead, but every time his gaze landed on it, guilt clawed deeper into his heart.

That bruise...

It was proof of his failure. He had failed her on the very first day of their marriage. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes for a brief second. Dark circles had formed beneath them. He hadn't slept—not even for a moment.

Sleep was the last thing on his mind.

How could he rest when his wife lay injured because of him?

Dr. Rahman had instructed him to keep her hydrated and make sure she ate a proper breakfast as soon as she woke.

So before dawn, Zaid had already spoken to Saira. She was in the kitchen preparing every dish Ava had liked the previous day, hoping familiar food would bring her some comfort.

It was the least he could do. The least a failed husband could offer.

A gentle knock sounded before the bedroom door slowly opened. Mahira stepped inside. The worry in a mother's eyes was impossible to hide.

One look at her son made her heart ache. She knew this silence. Whenever something went wrong, Zaid never searched for someone else to blame.

He always blamed himself.

"Bache..." she called softly.

(''My Child.'')

Zaid almost flinched before turning towards her.

"Ammi... kya hua?"

(''Mother....what happened.'')

His voice was rough from exhaustion.

Mahira walked closer.

"Bache, puri raat ho gayi. Aap yahin baithe hain."

("Child, it's been the whole night. You're still sitting here.")

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Jaaiye... naha lijiye. Thoda fresh ho jaiye."

("Go on... take a bath. Freshen up a little.")

Zaid immediately shook his head.

"Nahi, Ammi."

(''No, Mother.'')

His eyes instinctively returned to Ava.

"Hum Ava ko dobara akela nahi chhodenge."

(''I am not leaving Ava alone.'')

A painful smile crossed his lips.

"Ek baar unhe akela chhod kar hi toh fail ho gaye hain."

(''I have already failed once.'')

"Ab dobara nahi."

(''Not again.'')

Mahira's heart clenched. For a brief moment, she looked at the broad shoulders beneath her hand. There had once been a time when those same shoulders belonged to a little boy who fit perfectly into her arms.

How quickly time passed. She brushed his shoulder gently.

"Bache..."

(''My Child'')

"Ava bhi nahi chahegi ke woh uth kar aapko is haalat mein dekhe."

("Ava wouldn't want to wake up and see you like this either.")

Zaid fell silent. She was right. The last thing he wanted was to worry Ava any further.

After a long pause, he nodded.

"Theek hai..."

(''Okay...'')

"But Ammi..."

("But Mother...'')

He looked at Ava once more.

"Please inka dhyaan rakhiye."

("Please take care of her.")

"Main bas abhi aata hoon."

("I'll be right back.")

Giving his sleeping wife one last glance, Zaid quietly walked out of the room.

Mahira sighed softly before taking his place beside the bed. She lovingly brushed a few strands of hair away from Ava's forehead.

Just then...

Ava slowly stirred. Pretending to wake from unconsciousness, she blinked several times before slowly sitting up.

Mahira immediately supported her.

"Aaram se, bache."

("Take it easy, child.")

Ava looked at her with carefully crafted confusion.

"Ammi... aap yahan?"

("Ammi... you're here?")

(AMMI = MOTHER)

She already knew the answer. The previous night, even while pretending to be unconscious, she had heard everything.

Zaid's panicked voice. The desperate phone call to his parents. The way he had blamed himself over and over again. She almost wanted to laugh.

What an incredible performance.

He truly knew how to play the role of a worried husband. After all... Who would care this much for a woman they had barely known for a day?

It had to be an act. It had to be. Kindness always came with a price. She had learned that lesson years ago.

This marriage...

This family...

This concern...

It was all part of the mission. She only had one job. Complete it. Then leave.

Mahira smiled warmly.

"Bache, kal aap Zaid ki study mein behosh ho gayi thi."

("Child, you fainted in Zaid's study yesterday.")

As she spoke, her fingers gently smoothed Ava's hair away from her face. Ava froze for the briefest moment.

The touch...

It felt so...

Real. Gentle. Motherly.

No one had touched her like that in years. Not during training. Not during any mission. Not once.

Ava had spent years learning how to read people. She could tell when affection was fake.

This wasn't. Mahira wasn't pretending. She genuinely cared. For a dangerous second...

Something tightened painfully inside Ava's chest.

No. She forced herself back to reality.

Get yourself together.

"This isn't why you're here."

She lowered her gaze.

"Ammi... pata nahi."

("Ammi... I don't know.")

"Main bas unka intezaar kar rahi thi..."

(''I was waiting for Zaid.'')

"Phir achanak chakkar aa gaya."

(''Then suddenly I fainted'')

Mahira nodded sympathetically.

"Koi baat nahi, bache."

("It's okay, child.")

"Kabhi kabhi insaan overwhelmed ho jaata hai."

("Sometimes, a person just gets overwhelmed.")

"We were just very scared."

She smiled before standing up.

"Aap baithiye."

(''Just wait.'')

"Main aapke liye nashta lekar aati hoon."

("I'll bring you some breakfast.")

"Khaana zaroor khana hai."

("It is important to eat.")

Ava nodded silently. As Mahira walked out, Ava let out a slow breath. Her chest felt unbearably tight.

God...

What is happening to me?

Why was everyone in this family so kind? Why did Mahira not feel fake? Every mission before this had been simple.

No emotions.

No attachments.

No kindness.

Only lies.

But here...

Everything felt painfully genuine.

She clenched her jaw.

"No."

She whispered to herself.

"This changes nothing."

Walking to the wardrobe, she picked out a saree before heading toward the bathroom.

Outside the bedroom... Zaid stood frozen. He had come back after his shower but hadn't found the courage to enter. When he saw Ava absentmindedly rubbing the bruise on her forehead, his chest tightened.

He lowered his eyes. He couldn't even face her. Not after what had happened.

And still...

She hadn't blamed him. Not once.

Ya Allah...

How kind is she?

For the first time in years... Zaid Zoravar felt completely broken. His carefully disciplined routine had fallen apart overnight. He hadn't prayed Tahajjud. He hadn't read his morning book.

He hadn't reviewed his work schedule. He hadn't even thought about Parliament. None of it mattered. Because what kind of man could lead a nation...

If he couldn't even protect his own wife?

His eyes closed. A quiet whisper escaped his trembling lips.

"Ya Allah..."

"I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."

"What have I done?"

A few moments later, the bathroom door quietly opened. Ava stepped out, draped in a soft sage-green saree that flowed gracefully around her. The morning sunlight spilling through the curtains kissed the fabric, making its muted green shimmer ever so slightly.

She walked silently toward the vanity and lowered herself onto the stool.

For a long moment... She simply stared at her reflection.

Then, reaching for the hairbrush, she slowly combed through her long blonde hair, letting the silky strands tumble over her shoulders like molten gold.

The room was silent except for the gentle strokes of the brush. Her hand reached for the small silver sindoor daani.

The instant her fingers touched it...

She froze. A memory rushed back with painful clarity.

A little girl... Barely seven years old... Sitting cross-legged on the floor while her mother dressed before the mirror. Her father would always appear behind her mother without making a sound.

He would smile. Take the sindoor daani from the vanity.

And without saying a single word, lovingly fill her mother's maang.

Little Ava would watch with sparkling eyes.

Back then...

Life had been simple. She had been loved. Protected. Safe. She hadn't needed to lie. She hadn't needed to become someone else every single day.

Back then, she had believed that one day... Someone would look at her the same way. Someone would stand behind her with nothing but love in his eyes.

She had believed in fairy tales. A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

"How stupid..."

She whispered to her reflection.

"What a foolish little girl."

Fairy tales didn't exist. They never had. Every beautiful story eventually ended the same way.

In betrayal. In blood. In ruin.

She placed the sindoor daani back exactly where it had been without touching it again. Instead, she slid the red and ivory chooda bangles onto her wrists.

The soft clinking of plastic echoed through the quiet room.

Next came a light layer of cream. A muted brown lipstick. A tiny maroon bindi.

Finally... She fastened a pair of delicate jhumkas into her ears.

Looking into the mirror, she no longer saw Ava Hart. She saw Ava Zoravar.

Another role. Another identity. Another lie.

Just then... The bedroom door creaked open.

Instantly, every emotion vanished from her face. Years of training slipped back into place. Her shoulders relaxed. Her breathing steadied.

The vulnerable woman disappeared. In her place stood the sweet wife everyone believed her to be.

She turned to greet him.

But before she could take a proper step—

Her foot caught against the leg of the vanity stool. Her balance slipped. For one terrifying second...

The floor rushed toward her. Strong arms caught her before she could fall. Ava's breath hitched.

She looked up.

Zaid.

His arms were securely wrapped around her waist, holding her against him. Pure horror filled his eyes. Not irritation. Not annoyance. Fear.

The kind of fear someone felt when they were terrified of losing something precious.

His grip instinctively tightened.

"Ava..."

His breathing was uneven. His eyes frantically searched her face.

"Aap theek hain?"

("Are you alright?")

His voice trembled ever so slightly.

"Chot toh nahi lagi?"

("You didn't get hurt, did you?")

Ava blinked. Her hands had instinctively rested against his broad shoulders. She nodded softly.

"Haan..."

(''Yes.'')

"Hum theek hain."

(''I am okay.'')

A small smile appeared on her lips.

"Thank you."

She played her part flawlessly. Sweet. Gentle. Completely unaware.

Zaid let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Alhamdulillah.

Slowly, he loosened his grip. His eyes drifted upward. Then he immediately looked away.

"Uh..."

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Woh..."

(''Actually..'')

"Aapke..."

(''Your...'')

He couldn't finish the sentence. Ava frowned in confusion.

"Ji?"

(''Yes?'')

"Aap kuch keh rahe the?"

(''You were saying something?'')

His ears turned slightly pink.

"Woh... aapke baal..."

("It's just... your hair...")

She tilted her head.

"Hamare baal?"

(''My hair?'')

Quickly glancing sideways, she tried to find what was wrong.

"Kya hua?"

("What happened?")

"I-Is something wrong?"

Zaid hesitated. He didn't want to offend her. Very cautiously, he lifted one hand.

His fingers paused midway. Almost asking for silent permission.

When she didn't move away... He gently brushed a loose strand of blonde hair away from her face. His fingertips barely grazed her skin.

Slowly...

He tucked the strand behind her ear. The entire gesture lasted only a few seconds.

Yet neither of them moved afterward.

Ava froze. His touch had been impossibly light. Barely there. Yet it sent something unfamiliar racing through her chest.

God...

What is this man doing?

She was here to destroy him. To deceive him. To become the reason his world fell apart.

And he...

He was standing there, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear as though she were something delicate.

Something worth protecting. Zaid's hand lingered for only a heartbeat longer before he slowly withdrew it.

But his eyes...

They stayed on her.

He noticed the tiny freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. The soft brown lipstick that suited her far more than brighter colours. The small bindi resting perfectly between her brows. The jhumkas gently swaying every time she breathed.

Even the faint bruise on her forehead couldn't hide her beauty.

For a moment...

He forgot to breathe.

Ya Allah...

How beautifully You create.

She looked almost unreal. Like the first light of dawn after a long winter night.

Gentle.

Quiet.

Untouchable.

Not because she was beyond reach... But because she deserved to be treated with reverence. He felt almost undeserving of standing this close to her.

And yet...

Allah had entrusted this woman to him. Entrusted her safety to him. Entrusted her happiness to him. His chest tightened. Silently, without speaking a single word, he made himself a promise.

From today onwards...

I will never let you feel alone again.

I will never leave you where fear can reach you.

If I have to stand between you and every hardship this world holds... then I will.

Ya Allah...

Please protect her. Even if You test me... never let the pain reach her.

Ava watched him quietly. For a fleeting second... Something in his eyes made her heart hesitate.

There was no manipulation. No calculation. Only sincerity. She quickly looked away. 

No.

She refused to believe it.

People like Zaid Zoravar didn't exist. Not in her world. Not in real life. This was just another performance. It had to be.

Because if it wasn't...

Then everything she had believed for years would begin to fall apart.

Just then, the quiet moment between them shattered. The bedroom door opened.

Mahira stepped inside carrying a breakfast tray in her hands. The instant her eyes landed on her son and daughter-in-law standing so close together, she immediately lowered her gaze.

Ya Allah...

It was her mistake. She should have knocked first.bTurning around at once, she spoke softly without looking back.

''Hum baad mein aayenge.''

(''I will come later.'')

"Ammi..."

(''Mother...'')

Zaid stepped back almost immediately, his ears turning slightly red.

"Uh... it's fine."

"I was just leaving."

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before stealing one last glance at Ava.

"I... hame ek zaroori phone karna hai."

(''I...uh need to make a phone call.'')

Without waiting for another word, he quietly walked past his mother and out of the room.

Ava instinctively took a step back as well. Her heartbeat still hadn't settled.

God...

What was that?

Had she really stood there...

And let him come that close?

She shut her eyes for a brief second. Focus, Hart. Focus. This wasn't why she was here.

Then another thought crossed her mind.

Actually... Maybe this wasn't entirely bad. The closer she became to Zaid...

The easier everything would become. Their bond growing stronger meant he would trust her more.

It also meant... Inaya still hadn't told him anything. Relief quietly settled inside her chest.

Thank God. There was still time. She could fix this before everything spiraled out of control. Mahira waited until Zaid had disappeared down the hallway before finally walking inside.

A warm smile spread across her face as she placed the breakfast tray on the bed.

"Aao, bache."

(''Come, child.'')

"Nashta kar lijiye."

("Eat breakfast.'')

Her eyes softened as they took in Ava's appearance. The sage-green saree suited her beautifully. She truly looked as though she belonged in the Zoravar household.

Ava smiled politely before sitting down.

"Thank you, Ammi."

Mahira smiled back and took a seat beside her. For a few moments, she simply watched Ava sip the fresh juice. Then she spoke gently.

"Ava bache..."

(''Ava child...'')

"Ek baat kahain?"

(''Should I say something?'')

Ava looked up immediately.

"Ji, Ammi."

(''Yes Mother.'')

"Boliye."

(''Tell me.'')

Mahira folded her hands in her lap before taking a slow breath.

"Kal jab aap behosh hui thi..."

("Yesterday, when you fainted...")

"...toh sach kahun?"

("...then, should I tell you the truth?")

"Hamare bete ki jaan hi nikal gayi thi.''

("Our son was scared out of his wits.")

Ava paused.

Mahira continued quietly.

"Woh bas ek hi baat baar baar keh raha tha."

("He just kept saying the same thing over and over again.")

"'Main unhe akela kyun chhod gaya?'"

("Why did I leave her alone?")

''Main unki hifazat kyun nahi kar paya?''

("Why couldn't I protect her?")

Her eyes became emotional as she remembered the previous night.

"Maine Zaid ko kabhi itna ghabraya hua nahi dekha."

("I've never seen Zaid this frightened before.")

"He was blaming himself for everything."

Her lips curved into a faint smile.

"Woh roya bhi tha."

("He even cried.")

Ava's fingers tightened ever so slightly around the glass. Mahira noticed... But pretended she hadn't. She gently placed her hand over Ava's.

"Bache..."

"Mujhe pata hai."

"Yeh sab aapke liye bilkul naya hai."

"Naya ghar."

"Naye log."

"Nayi zindagi."

"But..."

("Child..."

"I know."

"All of this is completely new for you."

"A new home."

"New people."

"A new life."

"But...")

She smiled with the quiet certainty only a mother possessed.

"Mere bete ko ek mauka dijiye."

(''Give my son a chance.'')

"I know my son."

"The fear I saw in his eyes yesterday..."

She looked toward the door through which Zaid had left.

"Wahi khauf maine saalon pehle Shahveer ki aankhon mein dekha tha."

("I saw that same fear in Shahveer's eyes years ago.")

"The fear of losing the woman he loved."

She looked back at Ava.

"Zaid aapki sach mein fikr karta hai, bache."

("Zaid truly cares about you, child.")

"He may not know how to express everything yet..."

"But his heart..."

"It is very honest."

She gently squeezed Ava's hand before standing.

"Aap aaram se nashta kijiye."

("Take your time and have your breakfast.")

"I'll leave you alone."

Mahira quietly walked out, closing the door behind her. Silence settled over the room once again. Ava stared at the closed door for several long moments.

Fear?

Love?

Care?

She let out a quiet scoff.

"No."

She whispered to herself.

"That's impossible."

Men like Zaid didn't care. They pretended. They performed. They smiled. They protected. Only until their masks slipped. She had seen enough of the world to know that. Care was always transactional. Kindness was always calculated.

Love...

Was the easiest lie to sell.

Mahira might be genuine. That much Ava could believe.

But Zaid?

No.

He couldn't be.

The Agency had spent months investigating him. Every report. Every file. Every psychological profile. If there was one thing they had taught her, it was never to trust appearances.

She placed Mahira's words into the same locked corner of her mind where she buried every inconvenient emotion. They meant nothing. They had to mean nothing. Picking up the spoon once again, Ava resumed eating breakfast with calm, measured movements.

The perfect daughter-in-law. The perfect wife. The perfect undercover operative. Not a single crack showed on her face.

Only she knew...

That somewhere beneath the carefully crafted performance... Mahira's words refused to leave her heart.

Later that afternoon, the Zoravar Estate had finally settled into its usual rhythm. Or at least...

Everyone was pretending it had. Ava sat quietly in the spacious living room, wrapped in her sage-green saree. Ever since morning, Mahira and Shahveer hadn't left her alone for more than a few minutes.

Mahira hovered around her like any worried mother would. Every hour she returned carrying something new.

Fresh orange juice.

Pomegranate juice.

Tender coconut water.

Fruit.

Soup.

As though feeding Ava was somehow going to erase the fright of the previous night.

Meanwhile, Shahveer had claimed the sofa beside her. His reading glasses rested low on his nose as he read the day's newspaper aloud, commenting every now and then about how politics had become more dramatic with each passing day.

Ava listened quietly, nodding whenever appropriate. Her attention drifted to the newspaper in his hands.

One bold headline immediately caught her eye.

CHILDREN'S WELFARE BILL FAILS TO SECURE MAJORITY.

Her eyes lingered on it for a second.

So... it failed.

A flicker of satisfaction crossed her mind. The Directorate. They've started moving already.

Good.

One obstacle had been removed. Now she simply had to finish the job she had been sent here to do.

She lowered her gaze, masking every thought.

"Abba..."

(''Father.'')

She looked up with carefully crafted concern.

"Woh bill... pass nahi hua?"

(''The bill....didn't pass?'')

Shahveer removed his glasses and folded the newspaper. A tired sigh escaped him.

"Nahi, bache."

(''No, child.'')

"Nahi ho paya."

(''It didn't pass.'')

His voice carried disappointment, but not defeat.

"It hurt Zaid."

"He had worked on that bill for five years."

A small smile appeared on Shahveer's face.

"But mera beta haar maan ne walon mein se nahi hai."

("But my son isn't the kind of man who gives up.")

"He'll stand up again."

"He always does."

Then his expression softened.

"But..."

"What truly scared him wasn't the bill."

"It was you."

He chuckled lightly.

"Kal jab aap behosh hui thi..."

("Yesterday, when you fainted...")

"Laga tha jaise uski saans hi ruk gayi ho."

("It felt like he couldn't breathe.")

His eyes crinkled with amusement.

"Bache, dobara aisa mat kariyega."

("Child, please don't ever do that again.")

"Nahi toh aapke shohar ko sach mein heart attack aa jayega."

("Otherwise, your husband might actually have a heart attack.")

Ava forced out a small laugh.

Inside...

She rolled her eyes.

Seriously?

Do they actually believe Zaid cares that much?

Then again... They were his parents. Of course they believed in him. Parents always saw the best in their children.

But she wasn't naïve. She knew better. Or at least...

She told herself she did.

From the kitchen doorway, Inaya quietly watched the conversation unfold. She had just packed her lunch into her tote bag before leaving for work.

Yet her feet refused to move. Every time she looked at Ava... Guilt twisted painfully inside her chest.

She had been cruel yesterday. She had let her own anger cloud her judgment. She had said things she shouldn't have.

Then...

Instead of staying with Ava...

She had walked away. Only hours later had Ava fainted.

What if...

What if she hadn't been alone?

Would any of this have happened?

Ya Allah...

Humein maaf kar dijiye.

She lowered her head. Ava looked up at that exact moment and smiled politely in her direction.

A simple...

Gentle...

Completely undeserved smile.

It only made Inaya feel worse. She couldn't carry this guilt forever. She had to tell her brother the truth. She had to admit that she had argued with Ava before everything happened.

But not today.

Not while he was already blaming himself for something that wasn't even his fault.

She knew Zaid. He would probably forgive her. He always did. That was the problem. He forgave everyone...

Except himself. Taking one last look toward the living room, Inaya quietly slipped her lunch bag over her shoulder.

Without disturbing anyone, she walked out of the house. The front door clicked shut behind her.

Only one thought echoed inside her mind.

I have to tell Bhai.

Soon.

Before this guilt consumes me completely.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

IN EVENING 

The front door opened. There stood Anika Bedi. To the outside world, Anika was Ava's best friend. The loud one.

 The dramatic one.

The sunshine-like woman who would appear at the slightest inconvenience in Ava's life and make it ten times more dramatic than it needed to be.

That was how the Zoravar family knew her.

That was how everyone was supposed to know her.

But in reality?

Both women were spies.

Both were playing their parts.

And Anika had perfected hers so well that no one would ever suspect what lived beneath that cheerful smile.

She stepped inside, the payal around her ankles making a soft chan-chan sound with every step. A bright smile rested on her glossy lips as she walked into the house, dressed in a printed backless kurti held together at the back with delicate doris.

Her jhumkas dangled from her ears, making tiny sounds whenever she moved. Glass bangles covered her wrists, clinking softly against one another. Her long hair was tied into a simple braid that fell down her back, and a large tote bag hung casually from her shoulder.

She looked like sunshine personified. Like the kind of woman who could walk into a room and immediately fill it with noise. Her lips were coated in glossy lip gloss, and the light makeup on her face made her look almost doll-like.

Then her gaze landed on Ava.

Anika gasped.

Loudly.

"HAAAAYE MERI CHAMMAK CHALLO!"

Ava's eyebrow twitched.

Anika dropped her tote bag right onto the floor.

"Tujhe kya ho gaya?!"

("What happened to you?!")

She practically ran toward Ava like a dramatic Bollywood mother who had just discovered her child had been missing for twenty years.

Ava stared at her.

God, what the fuck was wrong with this woman?

Even on a mission, Anika couldn't stop being dramatic.

And Chammak Challo?

What the kind of nickname was that?

Anika reached her and immediately grabbed her face between both hands.''Arre meri jaan! Yeh kya haal bana rakha hai tune apna?" she cried. "Itni pyaari si shakal aur bilkul murjhaayi hui!"

(Anika reached her and immediately cupped her face between both hands.

"Oh, my darling! What have you done to yourself?" she cried. "Such a pretty little face, and you look completely worn out!")

Ava tried to pull away.

"Anika—"

"Chup!"

(''Quiet!'')

Anika immediately pulled her into a hug.

"Meri bacchi pehle gale lag."

(''Come give me a hug.'')

Ava's eyes closed for a second. She could already feel a headache coming.

From upstairs, Zaid heard the commotion. He had been sitting in his study, making a few calls, when the familiar dramatic voice reached him.

He stepped toward the doorway and looked down.

And then he saw Anika.

He knew her. She had been at his and Ava's wedding. His wife's best friend. A small smile appeared on his face. It was good that she was here. Maybe Ava would feel better with her best friend around.

He didn't want to interrupt them, so he disappeared back into his study to finish a few more calls before heading downstairs.

Meanwhile, Anika dropped herself onto the couch with a dramatic thud and pulled Ava down beside her.

She wrapped both arms around her tightly.

"Oh my God... look at you," she whispered against Ava's ear, her voice trembling just enough to make anyone watching believe she was genuinely worried.

Then she pulled back slightly and looked Ava up and down.

"Kya yaar! Tune tabiyat kharab kar li?"

("Oh, come on! You've made yourself sick?")

Her voice was dramatic enough to win an award. Ava almost rolled her eyes. Almost. Because they weren't alone.

Anika squeezed her once more before lowering her voice.

"How's the garden?"

Ava understood immediately.

Garden.

Their code word for the mission.

Without breaking the hug, Ava gave a weak smile.

"The flowers are dying."

The mission isn't going as planned.

Anika's fingers moved slowly over Ava's back.

"Can they still be saved?"

Can you continue?

Ava coughed lightly into her shoulder.

"Only if winter comes late."

I need more time.

And it was true.

She needed time. Time to build a deeper bond with Zaid. Time to make him trust her completely. Time before she could get what the Directorate wanted.

Time.

Anika understood.

"Then we'll wait for winter," she whispered.

Her fingers squeezed Ava's shoulder once.

A silent reassurance.

I'm here.

Then she pulled away and, as if flipping a switch, her entire expression changed. The serious spy disappeared. The dramatic best friend returned.

"Bas! Ab rona-dhona band."

("Enough! No more crying now.")

She reached down for her tote bag.

"Main tere liye kuch laayi hoon."

("I brought something for you.")

Ava frowned.

"What?"

Anika's face lit up. She pulled out a box with the proud expression of someone unveiling a priceless treasure.

"DONUTS!"

Ava's eyes immediately brightened.

Anika pointed at her.

"HA! Dekha?!"

She turned dramatically toward the room.

"Ek donut andar aur meri bachu ki hotness bahar!"

("One donut inside, and my hot girl outside!")

Ava laughed despite herself.

"Anika, you're insane."

"Insane nahi, dedicated to keep your hotness alive."

She shoved the box into Ava's hands.

"Cream wale. Tere favourite."

(''Cream. Your favourite.'')

Ava looked down at the box. A tiny smile appeared on her lips.

And just then, Zaid appeared in the living room. He stopped. His gaze immediately fell on Ava. She was smiling. Really smiling. Her entire face looked different around Anika.

Lighter.

Happier.

Zaid couldn't help but smile.

If only I could make her smile like that.

He didn't know if he ever could. But he wanted to. Allah, he really wanted to. His gaze dropped toward the donut box. Then back to Ava. She loved them.

Quietly, he pulled out his phone.

He opened his notes app and typed.

Things Ava likes:
Cream donuts — Krispy Kreme.
Branch — Connaught Place.

He stared at the note for a moment before locking his phone. He would remember it. The next time he was in Connaught Place, he'd get them for her.

Or maybe he didn't need an excuse.

If he ever wanted to give his wife something sweet... He'd know exactly what to get.

Meanwhile, Anika noticed him. A mischievous smile spread across her lips.

"Kya, jiju?"

Zaid looked at her.

"Yes?"

Anika put both hands on her hips.

"Humne hamari ladki ko sirf ek din yahan chhoda tha."

("My  girl has been here for just one day.")

Zaid blinked.

"And?"

"And dekhiye iska haal!"

("And just look at the state she's in!")

She pointed dramatically at Ava.

"Gir gayi yeh toh aapke  pyaar mein!"

("She fell in your love!")

Zaid froze.

His face immediately turned red.

"What?"

Anika gasped.

"Arre! Sharm bhi aa rahi hai!"

"Uh... Anika, aap yeh kya bol rahi hain?"

"Sach bol rahi hoon!"

("Oh! Now you're getting shy too!"

"Uh... Anika, what are you saying?"

"I'm just telling the truth!")

She leaned closer.

"Bade shareef bante hain aap?."

("You act all innocent, don't you?")

Ava immediately looked down, trying desperately not to laugh. Zaid looked at his wife. His gaze softened seieng her smile.

Then at Anika. Then back at his wife. His ears were practically burning.

"Main... ek call karke aata hoon."

(''I have to make a call.'')

Anika waved him away dramatically.

"Ji haan, bhaagiye!"

("Yes, go on, run!")

Zaid disappeared.

The second he was out of sight, Anika burst into laughter.

"DEKHA?!"

(''See!'')

Ava glared at her.

"Are you insane?"

"Completely."

"You're getting too much into character."

Anika placed a hand dramatically over her heart.

"It is never too much, babe."

Ava shook her head.

Anika leaned closer.

"Tumhara pati already whipped hai."

(''Your husband is already whipped.'')

Ava rolled her eyes. But there was no heat behind it. She glanced toward the doorway where Zaid had disappeared. Her expression said everything.

You are impossible.

Anika winked.

"Don't worry. Main sambhal lungi."

(''Don't worry. I will handle.'')

Ava snorted softly. Her gaze fell back to the donut box. They were something she genuinely loved. Not the Ava Hart everyone here knew. Not the wife she was pretending to be.

Her.

The real Ava.

And Anika knew that.

She knew Ava had messed up missions before. She knew failure wasn't something Ava was unfamiliar with. But knowing how to deal with failure didn't make it hurt any less.

Sometimes you simply needed something small. Something familiar. Something that reminded you that beneath the missions, the lies, the disguises and the people they pretended to be...

They were still human. Ava looked at Anika. There was something unreadable in her eyes. Something only Anika could understand.

Ava's smile softened.

"I love you so much," she whispered.

Anika smiled back.

"Right back at you, babe."

For the next hour, they remained in character. Anika talked endlessly about everything and nothing, filling the room with her usual sunshine-like chatter while Ava listened.

She complained about the traffic. She complained about her hair. She complained about a woman at the salon who apparently had the audacity to steal her appointment. She even spent ten full minutes explaining why a certain television actress was dressing terribly these days.

Ava listened, occasionally laughing. To anyone watching, it was simply two best friends catching up. But Ava knew what Anika was really doing.

"I swear, Ava, that woman at the salon did it again!" Anika huffed, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Again! Do you know how long I sat there waiting for my appointment?"

Ava smiled. "Then go to another salon."

Anika looked at her as if she had just suggested something completely outrageous.

She shook her head firmly.

"I have principles, Ava. I refuse to let that woman think she has won."

Once she left, she would begin her  assignment.

Aryaveer. Zaid's secretary. Anika would flirt with him. Pretend to be interested in him. Make him believe she was slowly falling for him.

And then gather whatever information she needed.

Another role. Another lie. Another mission.

Eventually, Anika stood up and picked up her tote bag.

"Acha, main chalti hoon."

("Alright, I'll be going now.")

Ava nodded.

Anika took two steps before Ava stopped her.

"Ek minute."

(''One minute.'')

Anika turned.

Ava looked toward the stairs.

"Zaid se milke jaana."

(''Meet Zaid.'')

Anika's eyes immediately sparkled.

"Jiju se?"

(''Brother in law?'')

Ava nodded.

"Of course."

A few moments later, Ava climbed upstairs. She stopped outside Zaid's study and knocked softly.

"Suniye?"

There was no response.

She knocked again.

"Suniye?"

Inside, Zaid quickly wiped his face.

He had been crying. He had told himself he wouldn't make the same mistake again. He wouldn't leave Ava alone when she needed him. But the guilt was too deep. He couldn't get past it.

He had hurt her. Unknowingly, perhaps. But he had still hurt her. He should have been there. He should never have left her alone in that unfamiliar house.

And now he couldn't stop questioning himself.

What kind of husband was he if he couldn't even be there for his wife?

"Ya Allah..."

His voice broke. He didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive himself. He had made a promise the moment they got married.

A vow. He would protect her. He would be there for her.

And on the very first day...

He had broken it. He hadn't been there when she needed him the most. The image of finding her on that floor wouldn't leave his mind.

The way she had been lying there. Helpless. The bruise on her head. Her still body.

God. He couldn't bear it. He simply couldn't.

Another soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

Then her voice reached him again.

"Suniye?"

Zaid immediately stood.

He wiped his tears hurriedly and tried to compose himself.

"Aap?"

"Anika ja rahi hai. Aap aa jaiye neeche."

("Anika is leaving. Please come downstairs.")

Her voice was soft.

Zaid took a deep breath.

"Ji."

Moments later, he came downstairs.

Anika was already ready to leave.

The moment she saw him, her dramatic smile returned.

She walked toward him.

"By God, jiju."

She shook her head.

"Meri Chammak Challo ka dhyaan rakho aap."

(''Take care of my girl.'')

She pointed a finger at him.

"Main chaar din baad aaungi inspect karne."

(''I will be here to inspect after four days.'')

Zaid blinked.

Anika narrowed her eyes.

"Samjhe?"

(''Got it?'')

"Ji."

(''Yes.'')

"Good."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Just joking, jiju."

Zaid gave her a small, helpless smile.

Anika turned toward Ava.

She opened her arms.

"Aaja meri jaan."

(''Come here my girl.'')

Ava stepped forward and hugged her. Anika held her tightly. To anyone watching, it was nothing more than two best friends saying goodbye.

But beneath the warmth of the embrace, Anika whispered into her ear.

"Stay alive, partner." 

Ava's smile didn't falter. Her fingers tightened around Anika's hand for half a second.

A silent answer.

Always.

Anika pulled away.

Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, she smiled brightly.

"Chal, meri Chammak Challo. Apna khayal rakhna!"

(''Byee, take care.'')

Ava shook her head.

"Bye, Anika."

"Bye, babe."

And just like that, Anika Bedi walked out of the Zoravar house.

The sunshine disappeared through the front door. Leaving behind the woman everyone believed was simply Ava's dramatic best friend.

And taking with her the truth that no one in that house knew.

Anika Bedi was a spy.

And so was Ava.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment Anika stepped outside the Zoravar Estate, the cool evening air brushed against her face.

She walked down the path, adjusting the tote bag hanging from her shoulder. Then she glanced down at herself. Her kurti was slightly dishevelled from all the dramatic hugging and moving around inside.

She frowned.

"Ugh."

She quickly fixed the loose fabric, adjusted the dori at the back and straightened her dupatta.

There.

Perfect.

She checked her reflection in the dark screen of her phone, fixed a strand of hair that had escaped her braid, and continued walking.

She was so busy fixing one of her bangles that she didn't notice the figure approaching from the opposite direction.

Until—

Thud.

Anika crashed straight into a broad chest.

"Oh!"

Her body stumbled backward. Instinct took over. Her hand twitched toward the small knife concealed beneath the folds of her kurti.

Then a pair of strong arms caught her around the waist before she could hit the ground.

Anika froze. Her spy instincts screamed. Threat.

Her fingers tightened. She looked up.

And stopped.

Brown eyes stared down at her. Warm. Confused.

And, unfortunately, extremely handsome.

His hair was perfectly combed, though a few strands had fallen over his forehead from the sudden collision.

He wore a mustard-yellow Nehru jacket over a crisp white kurta-style shirt, paired with tailored beige trousers.

Simple.

Elegant.

Effortlessly regal.

Anika's mind went completely blank for half a second.

Fuck.

She knew him.

Aryaveer Singh.

Zaid Zoravar's secretary.

The Directorate's next target.

The man who had supposedly grown up in an orphanage, made his own way through life and eventually entered politics because he wanted to help people like himself.

At least, that was the story everyone loved. Anika knew better.

The Directorate had taught them not to believe stories simply because they were wrapped in emotion.

And she certainly didn't.

Neither did she believe the saintly image surrounding Zaid and the people around him.

Still...

This wasn't exactly how she'd planned their first meeting. Not even remotely.

She had planned an introduction. A little flirting. A little accidental encounter. A little curiosity.

Not—

falling into his arms.

Well. Plans changed.

And Anika was very good at adapting. She quickly placed both hands against his shoulders, pretending to steady herself.

Aryaveer stared at her.

And then—

Mata Rani.

She was beautiful.

Her kajal-rimmed eyes looked even darker beneath the evening light. A few strands of hair had escaped her braid and fallen around her face. Her heavy jhumkas swayed beside her cheeks, and her glass bangles made the faintest sound between them.

For a moment, Aryaveer forgot that he was supposed to let go.

His arm remained firmly around her waist. Anika noticed. Of course she noticed.

She glanced down at his hand around her waist. Then slowly looked back up at him. A tiny smile appeared on her lips.

"You know..."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You can let go now."

Aryaveer froze. His eyes widened slightly. He immediately released her as though he'd just realised what he'd been doing.

"Uh—"

His cheeks flushed. He cleared his throat and awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was soft.

Anika blinked.

Then smiled brightly.

"I'm fine."

She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I was just being clumsy."

She gave him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I promise I don't usually attack random men at night."

Aryaveer's lips twitched.

A small laugh escaped him.

"There is no need to apologise."

His gaze briefly dropped to her jhumkas before returning to her eyes.

"All that matters is that you're safe."

Anika stared at him for a moment.

Then smiled.

"Well..."

She looked down at herself.

"I am alive."

She lifted both hands dramatically.

"Everything is still attached."

Aryaveer laughed again.

And Anika noticed.

Good.

He was already comfortable. She played with one of her glass bangles.

"You must be Jiju's secretary."

Aryaveer blinked.

"Jiju?"

Anika nodded casually.

"Zaid."

Then she extended her hand.

"I'm Anika."

A bright smile.

"Ava's best friend."

Something clicked in Aryaveer's expression.

"Oh."

He nodded.

"I see."

He took her hand.

And then promptly forgot how hands worked.

Her hand was tiny compared to his.

Warm.

Soft.

Something strange fluttered in his stomach the second their palms touched. Anika tried pulling her hand back. He didn't let go. Not deliberately. His grip wasn't possessive.

It wasn't forceful.

It was simply...

Firm.

Like some part of him had instinctively decided he wasn't ready to let go yet.

Anika looked down. Then at him. Then back at their hands.

"Um..."

She lifted her eyebrows.

"My hand?"

Aryaveer's eyes widened. He immediately released her. "Shit." He rubbed the back of his neck, completely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry."

Anika stared at him for two seconds.

Then burst out laughing.

"Relax!"

She waved her hand dismissively.

"I'm not going to file a complaint."

Aryaveer smiled sheepishly.

"You probably should."

"Hmm."

Anika pretended to consider it.

"Maybe I should."

She tilted her head.

"Although..."

She looked him up and down.

"You don't look dangerous."

Aryaveer laughed softly.

"I assure you, I'm not."

"Good."

Anika nodded seriously.

"Because I already have one grumpy man in my life."

Aryaveer raised an eyebrow.

"Grumpy?"

"Jiju."

She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Have you seen his face? It looks like someone stole his favourite socks."

Aryaveer laughed.

"You're not wrong."

Anika gasped.

"HA!"

She pointed at him.

"So you admit it!"

Aryaveer shook his head, smiling.

"I didn't say that."

"You absolutely did."

"I didn't."

"You did."

He laughed again.

Anika smiled.

There. That was better. She had him talking.

She adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder.

"Well, whatever your name is..."

She deliberately said his full name.

"Nice meeting you."

She started walking backward.

"And next time, please try not to stand in the middle of the road."

Aryaveer blinked.

"You walked into me."

Anika stopped.

She stared at him.

Then placed a hand dramatically over her heart.

"Wow."

Aryaveer frowned.

"What?"

"You're blaming the injured woman?"

"I didn't say you were injured."

"Emotionally, I am."

He laughed.

Anika turned around and started walking again.

"Bye, Mr!"

"Bye, Anika."

She took a few steps before turning her head over her shoulder.

"And Mr?"

"Yes?"

She smiled.

"Try smiling more."

He stared at her.

"You would look much less scary."

And before he could respond, she turned and walked away.

Her payal chimed softly with every step. Aryaveer remained standing where she had left him. Completely frozen. He looked in the direction she had disappeared.

Then down at his hands.

Then back toward the road.

"What the hell..."

A smile slowly appeared on his face.

Who exactly had he just stumbled into?

He watched her walk away, his eyes following her for a moment longer than they should have.

Then it hit him. His expression fell.

Shit.

He hadn't even introduced himself. Not properly, anyway. He had been so caught up in the unexpected collision—and in her—that he'd completely forgotten the most basic thing.

A small, embarrassed smile tugged at his lips.

Great, Aryaveer. Brilliant first impression.

He glanced in the direction she had disappeared. Maybe next time. If there was a next time.

And strangely enough, he found himself hoping there would be.

Meanwhile, several metres away, Anika's cheerful smile remained firmly in place.

But the second she turned the corner and was out of his sight, her expression changed.

Her eyes sharpened.

Aryaveer Singh.

Zaid's secretary.

Orphan.

Political aide.

Potential source of information.

She reached into her tote bag and pulled out the burner phone.

One message.

Nothing more.

TARGET CONFIRMED.

She slipped the phone back into her bag.

Then smiled to herself.

"Well..."

She whispered under her breath.

"This is going to be fun."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

ZORAVAR ESTATE

Dinner had just ended. Zaid had ordered authentic lasagna for Ava. Apparently, it was her favourite. He had found that out only recently. He didn't know how to make it himself.

And strangely enough, that bothered him.

What kind of husband was he if he didn't even know how to cook his wife's favourite dish? Pathetic. That was the word that had been running through his mind all evening.

He knew how to cook. He could manage a kitchen when he needed to. He could make several dishes without help.

But lasagna?

No.

And now he was determined to learn.

He would learn every dish Ava liked. Not because he wanted praise for it. Not because he wanted her to think he was a good husband. 

Well he did want her to think he was a good husband.

But really he simply wanted to know her. He wanted to know the little things. What she liked. What she hated. What made her happy. What made her sad. Because somehow, he had managed to marry her without knowing any of those things.

 And despite all of it...

She hadn't complained.

Not once.

She had simply smiled at him with that soft, sweet smile of hers and told him she was fine.

Ya Allah... why?

She should have been angry.

She had every right to be.

She should have shouted at him, blamed him, told him what kind of husband left his wife alone in an unfamiliar house.

But she hadn't.

And somehow, that made him feel worse.

He didn't want to take her kindness for granted. He never would. He wanted to fix things. He wanted to become the husband she deserved. Because the memory of yesterday still wouldn't leave him.

The sight of her lying unconscious on that floor. The bruise on her head. The helplessness in her face.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again. He had already failed the children he had promised himself he would protect.

And now he felt as though he had failed his wife too.

Maybe he simply wasn't good enough. His thoughts stopped when movement caught his attention.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Ava walk toward the dressing table. She had changed into a simple satin nightgown.

There was no makeup on her face now. No lipstick. No carefully placed expression. Just Ava. Her face looked softer without all the colour, almost younger.

She reached up and removed her jhumkas one by one, placing them carefully on the table.

Then came her chooda. One bangle at a time, she slipped them from her wrists and set them beside the earrings.

Zaid watched silently.

Then Ava turned.

And caught him staring.

Zaid froze.

Shit.

His eyes widened slightly. Look away. Say something. Anything.

But his body refused to cooperate.

He had been caught.

 Again.

 Ava looked at him for a moment before a small smile touched her lips.

 Zaid swallowed.

He needed to talk to her. He needed to tell her how sorry he was. But every time he tried, the words disappeared.

Not tonight.

Enough.

He couldn't keep running away from the conversation.

Ava sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for the blanket.

Before she could pull it over herself, Zaid suddenly moved.

He crossed the room and dropped to his knees beside the bed.

Ava's eyes widened.

What the fuck is he doing?

For one brief second, her instincts kicked in.

Was he angry?

Was he about to—

No.

Zaid wouldn't do that. Men like him didn't lose control that easily.

She forced herself to remain calm.

"Aap yeh kya kar rahe hain?"

("What are you doing?")

Her voice was soft.

Zaid took a deep breath.

For a few seconds, he simply looked at her.

Then he spoke.

"I know, Ava... aap dil se bahut achhi hain."

("I know, Ava... you're a very kind-hearted person.")

His voice was quiet.

"I should never have left you alone."

Ava's expression softened slightly.

"I am really sorry."

He swallowed.

"Sorry shayad kabhi enough nahi hoga. Lekin... agar ho sake toh hame maaf kar dijiye."

("I'm sorry. Maybe it will never be enough. But... if you can, please forgive us.")

There was no excuse in his voice. No attempt to defend himself. Just regret. His eyes were completely sincere.

Ava looked at him. She had expected guilt. She had expected him to be defensive.

His act was really good.

She hadn't expected this.

"Zaid ji..." she whispered. "Aap kya bol rahe hain? Aapki galti nahi thi."

He immediately shook his head.

"No."

His voice was firmer this time.

"Please, Ava. hamari taraf se mat boliye."

("Please, Ava. Don't defend me.")

He looked down for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

"Yeh ghar aapke liye naya tha. Yahan ke log naye the. Har cheez nayi thi. Aur hame pata tha ki aap akeli feel karengi."

("This house was new to you. The people here were new. Everything was new. And we knew you would feel alone.")

His voice cracked slightly.

"hame aapke saath hona chahiye tha."

("We should have been there for you.")

Ava remained quiet.

"I was supposed to protect you."

He let out a humourless breath.

"Lekin ham woh bhi nahi kar paaya."

("But I couldn't even do that.")

"Zaid ji—"

"Maybe that's why the bill failed too."

Ava paused.

He gave a small, bitter smile.

"Allah ko shayad pata tha ki ham ek achha shohar bhi nahi ban paaye... aur un bachchon ke liye bhi kuch nahi kar paaya jinke liye main itne din se lad rahe the."

("Maybe Allah knew that I couldn't even be a good husband... and that I couldn't do anything for those children I had been fighting for all this time.")

Ava's heart gave a strange little pull. She immediately pushed the feeling away. She had to stay in character.

"I heard about the bill," she said softly. "It didn't pass."

She gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I know how hard you worked for it."

Her voice became gentler.

"I'm sorry, Zaid ji."

She paused.

"And please... don't blame yourself for everything. I'm fine now."

Zaid stared at her.

For a moment, he couldn't understand how someone could be this forgiving. She had every reason to be angry. Yet here she was, sitting in front of him, worrying about him.

He smiled faintly.

"You're really kind, Ava."

His gaze softened.

"Maybe too kind."

He lowered his eyes.

"I don't deserve you."

Ava's heart skipped for a completely different reason. She hated how genuine he sounded. She hated that part of her almost believed him.

Zaid rested one hand on the edge of the mattress.

"And please... ek aur baat."

Ava looked at him.

"Don't call me Zaid ji."

She blinked.

"What?"

He smiled.

"Seriously."

"But why?"

"Because we're married."

His smile widened slightly.

"Hum dono equal hain."

Ava tilted her head.

"But you're older than me."

"So?"

"So... respect karna chahiye."

Zaid looked at her with exaggerated offence.

"Wow."

Ava tried not to smile.

"I'm serious."

"Okay."

He placed a hand over his chest dramatically.

"I'm officially hurt."

Ava finally laughed softly.

Zaid smiled at the sound.

"I know I'm in my thirties, Ava," he continued, shaking his head. "Lekin itna bhi old nahi hoon."

She laughed again.

"Still."

"Still nothing."

His voice softened.

"Is marriage mein age matter nahi karti. Respect karti hai."

 ("Age doesn't matter in a marriage. Respect does.")

He looked directly into her eyes.

"Agar ham galat hai, toh hame bataiyega."

("If I am wrong, then please tell us.")

A small pause.

"Daantiyega."

(''Scold me.'')

Then his smile turned teasing.

"Zarurat pade toh... thappad bhi maar sakti hain."

("If you ever need to... you can even slap me.")

Ava's eyes widened.

"Thappad?"

"Haan."

He nodded solemnly.

"Permission de raha hoon."

She couldn't help smiling.

"Achha?"

"Bilkul."

He smiled back.

"Bas ek baat yaad rakhiye."

"What?"

"We're partners, Ava."

His voice was quiet now.

"Isliye hame hamesha 'Zaid ji' kehkar hame door mat rakhiye."

("So please don't keep me at a distance by always calling me 'Zaid ji.'")

For a moment, Ava didn't know what to say. She simply looked at him. Because somewhere between the guilt, the apology and that stupid little smile...

Zaid was making it increasingly difficult to remember that this marriage was supposed to be nothing more than a mission.

Ava looked at him for a few seconds.

Partners.

The word stayed somewhere in her mind. She didn't know why it felt heavier than it should have.

Maybe because Zaid had said it so simply.

As if he genuinely meant it.

She lowered her gaze, hiding the small smile threatening to appear on her lips.

"Okay," she whispered.

Zaid's eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Okay?"

Ava nodded.

"I can give it a try."

Something softened in Zaid's expression. A small smile appeared on his lips.

"I think I can work with that ."

He slowly got to his feet, giving her some space.

Ava pulled the blanket up over herself and settled against the pillows.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room had gone quiet. Moonlight slipped through the curtains, falling softly across the floor.

Zaid looked at her once more before turning toward his side of the bed.

"Goodnight, Ava."

She looked at him.

"Goodnight."

He lay down, a faint smile still lingering on his face. Ava watched him for a moment.

Then, just when he thought the conversation was over, her voice came softly through the darkness.

"But you are still old."

Zaid's eyes snapped open.

He turned his head toward her.

"What?"

Ava had already pulled the blanket up to her chin.

She was hiding her smile.

"Goodnight, Zaid ji."

His mouth fell open.

"Ava!"

She turned away from him, shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

Zaid stared at her back in disbelief.

Then he shook his head, a reluctant smile spreading across his face.

"Unbelievable."

Ava smiled beneath the blanket.

And for the first time since yesterday...

Zaid didn't feel quite so heavy.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Around midnight, Ava's eyes slowly opened. The room was dark and quiet. Beside her, Zaid was asleep. She stayed still for a few seconds, listening to his breathing, making sure he was completely out.

Then, carefully, she slipped out from beneath the blanket. Not a single sound. She walked toward the bathroom, her bare feet barely making a noise against the floor.

Once inside, she quietly closed the door. The lock clicked. Only then did her expression change. The softness disappeared from her face.

Ava reached beneath her nightgown and pulled out a small burner phone. She switched it on. The screen illuminated her face in the darkness.

Her fingers moved quickly. She opened the secure messaging application and typed a single sentence.

The garden can be saved.

She stared at the words for a moment. Then pressed send. The message disappeared from the screen. Ava immediately locked the burner and slipped it back beneath her clothes.

For a second, she simply stood there in silence.

The mission wasn't over.

Not yet.

She could still do this.

She just needed more time.

Ava took one slow breath, schooled her expression back into the soft, sleepy wife everyone knew...

Then quietly unlocked the bathroom door.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓙𝓔𝓒𝓣 𝓩𝓞𝓡𝓐𝓥𝓐𝓡

𝓢𝓘𝓣𝓐𝓡𝓐 𝓘𝓝𝓚𝓛𝓘𝓝𝓖