AsYa FF - Devotion [Updated Chapter 4B/p24](24/08) - Page 16

Hi everyone!

So, I'm back after a really long time and I'm really sorry for not updating sooner.

I was really disillusioned with the whole Tanveer track and I completely shelved this story, but once I looked back and saw how much love and appreciation I received for it, I knew I had to keep going.

Thank you to all those lovely people who left such wonderful comments and everyone who sent me PMs. I am so incredibly touched by your support.

Here's the second part to chapter four.

Enjoy!

<3333

Chapter IV: Dilemma

Part B

"What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?" Asad yelled. He quickly looked down to make sure his towel was secure around his waist and then looked up and froze. Asad gulped.

Zoya stood before him in nothing but a flimsy chenille bathrobe that only reached past her thighs. Her hair was wet, and her skin was still damp and glistening.

Stunned, he watched her shapely legs travel on forever and had to fight back every urge to press her up against the door and tear that skimpy bathrobe off her. It left nothing to imagination, clinging tightly to her curves, teasing and tormenting him mercilessly. She had the kind of body that made him want to dress with diamonds - only to remove them slowly, one by one.

And as much as he wanted to, he couldn't act upon his intentions for morality's sake, but neither could he turn away from this temptress, who seemed hell-bent upon his destruction.

Was she trying to kill him - for the crux of it ironically was that she seemed totally oblivious to her effect on him.

And similarly he was too far gone to even begin to realise just how much he was affecting her as well.

Rooted to the ground, Zoya breathlessly admired him. She swallowed hard. He was beautiful. Statuesque in all his glory, Asad was like a chiselled masterpiece from Michelangelo. His herculean form was sculpted to perfection. His body was so wonderfully built; lean but powerful, muscular without being overly-bulky. His smooth olive skin was glistening with water droplets under the bright bathroom light.

Captivated, she watched a drop of water slide down from his wet hair, down the length of his throat, tricking over his delectable chest, lingering teasingly on his defined pectoral muscles and down into his...Zoya gulped, blushing.

But surprisingly, unlike their previous bathroom encounter, Zoya did not feel the need to avert her eyes. She did not feel the need to stop openly admiring him, because somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, she was aware that she had the right to be here, to be close to him and to be able to see him, like this.

Her attraction was now coupled with an overwhelming sense of ownership and rightness - " no longer did it feel like her longing for this man was unacceptable. By no means, was Zoya a voyeur but she was a red-blooded woman who certainly enjoyed the sight of her bare-chested would-be husband.

Then the haze momentarily cleared as she remembered his words, which of course incited an incensed reply that was becoming rather characteristic.

"What do you mean your bathroom?" Zoya demanded; her hands on her hips as she glared at him. "Technically, it's ou..."

"Don't say it!" He snapped. He didn't want to hear any more of these supposed technicalities. Not when recently, it seemed like everything he owned, now belonged to her. Not when this ridiculous woman was taking over his life, his space as well as his mind. Asad cleared his throat, wordlessly demanding an explanation for her invasion of his privacy.

"I ran out of shampoo, so I borrowed yours and I came to return it." She would never confess that she had deliberately chosen not to use Phuppi's or Najmah's because she had a weird fixation with the way Asad smelt and wanted to recreate his distinctive scent.

It was a futile endeavour though and she realised afterwards that it had to be a combination of the shampoo, perhaps a certain soap, probably some exclusive cologne and that unique fragrance of pure male, that Asad embodied.

Why was he at home anyway? She had deliberately waited until she was sure that Asad was not at home before planning her little incursion to his - no - their bathroom.

"And you had to do it straight away? Without getting dressed?" He blurted out and almost cursed himself for his stupidity. His brain was clearly on strike. Why did he have to make it so obvious? She didn't need to know how affected he was by her.

A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose in response. Zoya gestured at herself, "Is this bothering you?"

She delighted in the apparent possibility that she was the cause of his discomfort. That she was possibly affecting him, just as much as he affected her. Was her state of undress arousing him? Oh, she could dance with glee. She would die a happy woman, if it was even slightly true.

"Get out!" Asad snapped. He was being dangerously calm about the situation, because as much as he did want to scold her loudly, he didn't want to attract any attention from his Ammi or his sister who were both at home at the moment.

"It's your fault for not locking the door and besides I need to talk to you." Zoya said adamantly. She refused to move and not just because she was getting to ogle him, but because she genuinely had things to discuss with him. Although, she supposed she should wait until both of them were a bit more decent, but really where was the fun in that?

"Now?!" Asad asked exasperated. Didn't the blasted woman realise how difficult this was? He could barely control himself and here she wanted to play twenty questions within him. Without any clothes on!

"This instant!" Zoya asserted vehemently,"I need your help with telling Phuppi. I can't do this by myself."

"I knew you wouldn't, that's why I'm going to tell her." His words seemed to return to their previous edge, a haughty tone that was overtly condescending. He was staring at her boldly, unafraid of staring her down in the privacy of their bathroom.

That dark, smouldering gaze of his set her senses alight every time it rested on her, and she was once again reduced to a gauche schoolgirl, instead of the grown woman she was.

He found it so alluring, how her cheeks reddened under his attention, and how her once seductive deposition faded back into her shyness. But when she bravely took a step forward - he instinctively stepped back, trying to maintain the space between them for he was aware of the potential consequences of her nearness.

"When? After my visa expires? Or after she finds me another match?" She hissed sarcastically, a perfectly manicured nail prodding his chest lightly. She barely stamped down the overwhelming desire to press herself against him.

Trembling with longing, Asad quickly swatted her hand away. They hardly had any clothes on; they shouldn't be touching each other at all. Lest they get carried away. "This is not the time, nor the place to be having this argument."

As if on cue, they heard footsteps approaching.

"Asad, beta where are you?" Dilshaad asked loudly. She carried a steaming mug of her son's beloved black coffee and some property documents that she had been meaning to show him.

"Zoya! You're missing the movie! Where are you?" Najmah called at the same time. She had searched the entire house for Zoya, who had promised to host their usual Sunday night ritual in her bedroom.

"In the bathroom," Asad and Zoya called out together before turning to look at each other in horror. Oh no, what had they just done?

"Hide." Asad hissed, looking around his bathroom frantically. If his Ammi and/or sister found them like this, they'd never let him live it down. This looked so inappropriate on so many different levels.

"What? Where?" Zoya asked panicked. This was going to be so embarrassing if Phuppi and Najmah realised that she was in the bathroom with Asad. She was sure her little bathroom rendezvous with Asad was going to be misconstrued due to their attire (or lack thereof).

"Anywhere! Allah, this looks so wrong." Asad groaned. He was in a towel; she was in a bath robe. They were both wet. There was no way anybody could look at them and believe that this was an innocent encounter.

He almost pushed her out of the bathroom, before realising that his Ammi and sister were likely in front of his bedroom by now. She wouldn't be able to leave through the door and the only other escape was from his window, but of course that wasn't an option. He would be damned if anyone, but himself saw her in such a state. He bristled at the thought - no, he would never allow that.

And so he decided to hide Zoya in his dressing room, but in her haste to escape, accident prone Zoya slipped on the wet tiles.

In an instant Asad's strong arms were around her. His hands settled on her hip, his lower body brushing against hers as he tried to steady her. Even the shock of her near fall could not distract her from enjoying the warmth of his body. She felt his gaze linger on her mouth, and Zoya almost forgot to breathe when she realised exactly how close they were. His lips were so close she could see the pepper of stubble on his jaw, his warm breath like a gentle caress as he came even closer.

The moment seemed suspended in time, like a guillotine blade glittering in moonlight. Zoya could feel the heat of his body through her robe, and something in her stirred. Raised its head and called out to him. She wanted him. In fact, it was more than that. Whatever this was, it made her crazy. So crazy that she was on the verge of needing him. And that fact scared her more than anything.

Why had he never noticed how delicious she was? The smell of her skin was intoxicating, like warm vanilla on a lazy spring day. Her lips, her skin both were so soft and inviting. He was so tempted to taste her.

She writhed under him, trying to get him to move so that she could get in a standing position, but it was futile as she slipped again and this time her foot caught Asad's shin, causing him to lose his balance as well. Zoya couldn't handle the weight of him on her, and consequently fell back onto her bottom. To her immense horror, Zoya had also pulled Asad down with her right into the bathtub - his shocked face landing smack in the valley between her breasts.

Even in such an awkward position, Asad reassured himself, mentally reminding himself that he had never been in love with her; that was simply absurd. Indeed, he could not deny that he was lusting after her, because he was not that obtuse to not pay attention to his bodily needs and desires and at the moment, the only woman that his body craved for was Zoya.

Her ripe, lush body with its delightful curves and supple flesh was too damn tempting. The tantalising prospects of having this woman in front of him, of not knowing where it would lead because she was an unknown quantity, made every part of him stir with dark excitement. His eyes dropped downwards, leaving her softly parted lips and straying towards her breasts, which were moving in rhythm with her rapid breathing. He wondered what those breasts looked like. What did they feel like? How did they taste?

He groaned and unintentionally nuzzled her, as he shifted. Zoya gasped at the onslaught of sensation, arching into his face. His hot breath against her sensitive skin was such pleasurable torture.

Instinctively, she brushed the damp hair from his forehead, and looked down to see him cradled between her breasts. The delicious hardness of his body pressing into her was causing a riot within her heart, an unfamiliar ache between her legs. Zoya felt like she couldn't breathe, like liquid fire was running through her veins, consuming her very soul.

His hand was rubbing scorching circles on her lower back, his hot breath scalding the sensitive skin of her dcolletage, and she didn't know how much longer she would be able to resist him.

When her eyes finally met his, he felt himself harden instantly. Her eyes were as dark as his, and he could see his own longing reflected in her gaze.

She groaned loudly, her hands gripping his broadened shoulders, her pouted mouth only centimetres from his.

And by then, they were so caught up in each other that they had entirely forgotten about the situation at hand.

***

Outside Asad's bedroom door, Dilshaad was confused. Before the loud crash that she had just heard, she was certain that two voices had answered from within Asad's bathroom. "Najmah, did you hear that?"

Najmah wasn't sure if her Ammi was talking about the voices, or the crash, but neither option sounded too promising.

"Are Bhai-jaan and Zoya both in Bhai-jaan's bathroom?" They gaped at each other in shocked silence, considering the insinuations of such a possibility.

Shaking herself, Dilshaad walked through Asad's bedroom with a befuddled Najmah in tow. They warily appraised the bathroom door, fearing the possible consequences of entering.

"Only one way to find out." Bracing herself, Dilshaad tenaciously marched towards Asad's bathroom and throwing all caution to the winds, she pushed the door open and gasped loudly.

Asad and Zoya both looked up guiltily, both beyond embarrassed as Dilshaad and Najmah absorbed the scene before them.

Dilshaad gawked at them, stunned speechless. Zoya was lying in Asad's bathtub in a barely there bathrobe with a wet Asad on top of her in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I fell," Zoya explained, "again." She added weakly. This was so humiliating. What would Phuppi think of her now? Why? Why did this always have to happen to her?

"And you must have caught her - again?" Dilshaad raised an eyebrow at Asad, demanding an explanation. This falling over excuse was getting really old, really fast.

Zoya closed her eyes in mortification while Asad only groaned. They couldn't even move for the fear of exposing more skin then what was already on display.

"But Ammi, that doesn't explain why they're both in the bathtub," Najmah craned to look over her mother's shoulder. How she wished, she had a camera or even her phone on her to capture this. This would have made priceless blackmail material.

Dilshaad looked at them pointedly, but Asad ignored her and tried to disentangle himself from Zoya without touching her anywhere inappropriate. It was much more difficult than it sounded.

"At least now you know what Bhai-jaan's body looks like, Zoya! I told you he's fit!" Najmah said sagely.

"NAJMAH!"

***

To Zoya's chagrin, Najmah and Phuppi had been snickering all day and it was driving her crazy. The 'bathtub incident', as they now referred to it had become the running joke of the household with even their house help knowing about her little tumble in the bathtub with a certain angry young man of Khan Mansion.

Anyway, it wasn't like she could forget it even if she tried. She could barely stop thinking about the incident. In fact, it was all she could think about - he was all she could think about. Her mind was constantly occupied with images and memories of him, his words, his eyes, his shapely mouth slowly descending upon hers.

She shook herself, trying valiantly to fight back the blush, but it was futile and so Zoya hid in her room, until Najmah forcibly dragged her to dinner later that night. Dinner was somewhat normal, though neither Asad nor Zoya could look at each other at all and Najmah's giggling constantly at them, didn't help matters. Asad hardly ate and Zoya ate as fast as she could, before both excused themselves from the dining table and retreated to their respective bedrooms.

It wasn't until much later, after she was certain that everyone else had fallen asleep that Zoya crept out into the living room and sat down on a sofa. Plagued by her overworking mind and sleepless eyes, she found solace in the quietness, yet could not help but long for the warmth and familiarity of Asad's companionship.

Sighing, she stared into the darkness of the night. Sometimes, Zoya felt like she was living on borrowed time. There wasn't much time to make things right, but there was so much to do and such a hard, long road to travel.

She hadn't even fallen in love yet. Well, at least she thought she hadn't. But what was love? How was it defined? How was it measured? Could it even be quantified? It was a fascination that she hadn't quite revelled in. All she knew was that she was on the verge of something life altering, and there were too many questions, too many hopes and dreams that were waiting for a way forward.

How would she do it? How did she move forward, when the past constantly dragged her back?

Almost as if in answer, she was enveloped by a familiar and reassuring scent. She had felt his presence even before he had made himself known, but she chose not to reach out to him. Let him seek her out tonight. Let him ease her pain.

"Coffee?" Asad offered. There was something about her silence that bothered him. Perhaps that it was so uncharacteristic, and so he resolved to end this awkwardness between them.

"You've improved." She nodded meaningfully at her mug. And she meant it too. This was a far cry from his standard double shot long black. Zoya relished the smooth creamy latte, heaped with froth and sugar. There was even a subtle hint of her favourite hazelnut syrup, which really went to show that he knew her better than she had thought, considering she had never even mentioned in passing that she preferred flavoured coffee.

He didn't acknowledge her compliment, Asad simply stared at her, watching as she snuggled in deeper into her blanket and relished her coffee with her eyes closed. There was an almost childlike innocence about her that was so enchanting. He smiled to himself, before clearing his throat to address her once again.

"I have some good news for you. I spoke to the immigration office today and explained our situation. Your visa has been extended indefinitely until temporary residency is granted." He tried not to smile when he saw Zoya's eyes light up with that familiar spark of delight.

"So how many strings did you have to pull to arrange that?" She was genuinely awed, though she shouldn't have been. Him and his connections. She should have known, that if anyone could achieve the impossible then it was Asad. She didn't know how he had done what he did, but she knew that he had cared enough to take the initiative to solve her problem. And for that she was grateful.

"A few," he admitted modestly. He didn't need to mention that he had spoken to the US Embassy in Delhi himself, and requested the intervention as a personal favour. Asad Ahmed Khan had never requested anyone to do anything for him ever and Zoya had no business knowing that he had gone out on a limb for her.

Just as she didn't need to vocalise her gratitude for him to understand it, he didn't need to tell her the lengths he had gone to, to make sure that she wouldn't have to leave them.

Nevertheless, there remained shades of grey between them.

"It'll give you some time to search for your father," he offered awkwardly. There was so much between them that was left unsaid. There was too much he needed to say. So much he wanted to hear, but he just wasn't certain of how to approach her. He wasn't sure how to say it all.

Zoya could understand his unease. It was never easy to discuss these things between even the closest of friends and they had a shared history of abandonment, and estranged fathers. It was a hard topic to broach between them, and she needed him to know that it didn't have to be. She wanted him to know that she was comfortable with him knowing about her past, and that she was here for him irrespective of whether he wanted to divulge his secrets or not.

"I can do that after I'm married as well. I'm not going anywhere." She said slowly, trying to emphasise her intentions implicitly. She needed him to know and understand that the wedding itself had great importance to her and not just because it would give her the opportunity to search for her father.

"I know that. You've already taken over my bedroom and my bathroom." He groaned, instantly lightening the tension between them. "I'm beginning to wonder, if I'm going to have anything left after we're actually married."

"Asad," Zoya began patiently, "after we're married, what's yours is mine. And what's mine is mine." She looked at him, daring him to challenge her.

"That doesn't sound quite right." Asad mused, crossing his arms as he turned to face her.

"Sounds perfect to me." She proclaimed with an air of finality and watched as Asad fought back a grin.

There was a sense of connection when they were together and she filled a deep and aching void in him. She made him smile and for that he was grateful.

Zoya watched him, and felt the sorrow in her heart. Asad Ahmed Khan was an incomplete person. As a child, he had been forced to enter the adult world before he'd even finished half his childhood. There was still a child hiding within him, scared, longing to be loved. She murmured. "I hope you know that I didn't mean what I said."

Asad looked at her closely. She seemed infinitely sad and he saw the loneliness - he shared it. Her reflective eyes met his and he nodded. "I..I know," Asad acknowledged quietly. Zoya was anything but selfish. Her initial excuse to marry him for her visa extension had caught him off guard due to its sheer absurdity, but he had always known that there were far greater reservations at play here.

They were from two different schools of thought. She was a staunch utilitarian who believed that the end justified the means, whereas Asad was deontological in his approach, grounded by immovable, unshakeable morals and principles. But despite it all, they somehow meshed together. He enjoyed the conversations that they had, the witty repartee and the extent of their honesty with one another, and of course the intimacy that they had developed.

He had tried to keep his life simple. No ties, no false promises, no guarantees - no love. But Asad now realised with a lightning-like jolt that he wanted to be loved, but, more than that he wanted it to last. He had spent so many lonely years locking his heart away in case someone let him down while he wasn't on guard. Zoya had somehow pierced that firewall and caused utter mayhem with his rigidly controlled emotions. He would never be the same again now she had come into his life. If she walked away now, it would destroy him. His gut clenched at the thought of revealing his vulnerability to her.

But Zoya was far more open about herself, and he watched as her hand wrapped around his and she clutched at him tightly. "I..I don't know how to.."

"I know." He repeated gently. She didn't have to say a word. He knew what she was feeling, because he felt it too.

They fell into a comfortable silence. They really were not good with words, but Asad felt like he needed to reassure her. "It'll be okay," Asad said softly. "We have Ammi and Najmah and we have..."

"We have each other." Zoya finished for him, quietly voicing what she knew he would not say. She felt the warmth spread though as his cool fingers threaded through hers and gently squeezed back.

Just knowing that he was there soothed her frayed nerves. She looked up from their joined hands and met his warm, open gaze. Her own shining eyes were reflected in his. Stunned, Zoya could finally see what she hadn't understood. This blossoming feeling within her, between them - it wasn't love.

It was hope and maybe that was enough. They were weaving a future from a tangled past, and they were doing it together.

***

Najmah only had a week left to prepare for her final exams and she was stressed out. As the exams approached rapidly, she felt herself drowning not just in the fathomless abyss of notes, and syllabuses, but in those inner fears of failure, and disgrace. There were a few unconventional ambitions, a few unbidden hopes that burned somewhere deep within her.

She knew it wouldn't be long until her Ammi would start talking about her marriage, and frankly speaking Najmah was simply not prepared for such a giant leap. And as much as she loved and prided her elder brother, she didn't want to be known for all of eternity as Najmah - Asad Ahmed Khan's younger sister, just as her brother didn't want his identity hinged upon their father's name.

Najmah wanted to be someone who mattered in this big concrete jungle where people were as disposable as paper cups. There was a passionate, determined young woman buried within the cheerful, studious girl and it was high time that she let her true self shine through. But more than anything, she wanted to make her brother proud. She wanted to show him that his hard work, his effort paid off. He meant everything to her, for he wasn't just her brother - he was her protector, her guardian. He was everything, her father should have been.

She blinked back tears as her fondest childhood memories flashed before her sleepy eyes. All she could remember was her brother. His loving hands tending to her wounds. Him patiently helping her with her homework. Him feeding her from his own plate. Him rocking her to sleep. He was there without fail for all her award ceremonies. He was the first on his feet to cheer for her and the first to catch her when she fell.

He was such a kind, generous man and he only deserved the best. She wished that he would find someone who would love him, like he was her entire world. He deserved all the happiness and Najmah wished that it would be Zoya, who would be the bringer of such joy in her Bhai-jaan's life. It was a little dream that she had been harbouring for a while now, ever since she could see the change that Zoya had brought in her brother. They were subtle differences, but they were significant. He smiled a bit more and he didn't scowl so often. And undeniably there was an odd sort of attachment that was submerged in his features, as he cast longing gazes at Zoya behind her back.

Zoya's dependence on Asad was completely obvious, but it was slowly becoming apparent that it was a reciprocal sentiment. But of course, her Bhai-jaan would never admit it. He was more frustratingly stubborn than Zoya. Najmah supposed that they were products of their own intransigency. Like signs ordinarily repelled but when they did collide - they collided hard.

She smiled at the thought and made her way downstairs. It was only ten past five in the morning, and honestly she was still half asleep, so when she walked past the living room and thought she saw what seemed like the beginning of the apocalypse, she thought she must have dreamt it. Until she realised that even in her wildest dream, such a scene was not possible. Najmah quickly backtracked and paused. Her jaw dropped in shock at the sight and she slowly backed away from the room before turning on her heel and bolting up the stairs.

"Ammi!" Najmah cried breathlessly, bursting into her mother's room and interrupting her early morning yoga session almost causing Dilshaad to topple over in surprise.

"What's wrong, beta? Why are you panting?" Dilshaad asked, concerned by Najmah's dishevelled state. Najmah was nothing if not well-presented at all times, so she was quite surprised to see her daughter in such a state of disarray.

"Ammi, you have got to see this!" She grabbed her mother by the arm and pulled her out of her room. In a tizzy, Najmah half-dragged her mother downstairs with urgently, "Ammi, do you see what I'm seeing?" She pointed at the lounge.

Slightly disoriented, Dilshaad searched for the cause of her daughter's seizure and then felt her own heart doing somersaults. Dilshaad rubbed her eyes again in disbelief. Was she dreaming? She could hardly believe what she saw.

There on the long sofa before them, bathed in the dappled morning sunlight, lay Asad and Zoya with their arms around each other. Zoya's head rested on Asad's chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist. Their long legs were intertwined.

Dilshaad gaped at them. Her son was asleep with Zoya in their lounge room. If she wasn't so surprised, she would think that they looked rather cute. But why on Earth were they sleeping on the sofa? "Najmah, why are Asad and Zoya sleeping in the lounge room?"

Najmah shook her head in frustration. That wasn't important! Wanting to shake her Ammi to her senses, Najmah grabbed her mother by her shoulders. "Ammi, why are they sleeping together?"

They looked at each other and back at the two on the sofa and then each other again, trying to make head or tail of the scenario but they were both blank. Dilshaad stepped a bit closer to them, and reached out to feel their foreheads, wondering if they were ill or delirious with fever. They were both pleasantly warm, not in a feverish way. She turned around and shook her head at Najmah who remained a safe distance away. She rolled her eyes as Najmah eyed the sleeping pair warily - lest she catch their malaise and that was definitely not something she needed, not with her exams coming up.

Dilshaad turned back to the sleeping two and felt strangely satisfied. They looked so defenceless when they were asleep. They looked so peaceful, so content with their guards down and their masks off. And even when they were sleeping, Asad was the protector. His leg was covering hers, as he held Zoya close. It was obvious to her, that they had been seeking comfort, consolation in each other for they held onto each other as if they were the only ones left.

And finally she realised that they made a beautiful couple. Inevitably there was an attraction between them - a mutual fascination with each other. Zoya was intrigued by Asad's intensity, his masculinity, while he was overwhelmed by her evident individuality and bubbliness. Dilshaad wondered how often this must happen, the two of them seeking each other out. If they liked each other so much, then why were they constantly denying it? Children - they were too confusing. "Allah, it's too early for this. I think I'm going to go back to sleep."

"But Ammi, what am I going to do with Bhai-jaan and Zoya?" Najmah whined. It was too weird to leave them here like this.

Dilshaad sighed heavily. Yes, what were they going to do with the pair of them? "Let them sleep. I've never seen them look so peaceful. Let's enjoy it while it lasts." Without a second glance, Dilshaad returned to her room, clutching her head, but smiling to herself.

"There is something really bizarre going on in this house." Najmah muttered darkly, before stalking off to the kitchen to get some coffee into her system. Nothing made sense in this house anymore.

Later that morning, when they were all gathered around the dining table for breakfast, both Dilshaad and Najmah noticed the tension in the room. Neither Zoya nor Asad were speaking, they were barely eating and they refused to look at each other until they both reached out for the jug of orange juice at the same time and their hands brushed, and they froze, glancing sideways at each other.

Asad looked away first and gently pushed the jug towards Zoya, and she almost shyly took the jug. She poured juice into his glass first before taking some for herself. He muttered a fleeting, "thanks", to which she didn't reply, only looking more flushed.

Their behaviour would seem odd to Dilshaad and Najmah, had they not seen them sleeping. Dilshaad realised that they must have woken up together and felt awkward about their sleeping arrangement. It was understandable and of course she sympathised with them, but she was also a mother with a good sense of humour, who wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease them.

"Did you sleep well, Zoya beta?" Dilshaad asked innocently, hiding her knowing smile.

Najmah bit back a laugh as Asad choked on his juice, spluttering in his nervousness.

And Zoya?

Zoya almost fainted.

Previous Chapter: Chapter IV: Dilemma - Part A

A/N: I promise in the next part, the truth will come out and the engagement will happen!

Thank you to everyone for being so patient with me!