❝ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 ❞
Series of different stories which are filled with care, tears, emotions, regret but at last ends with a lot of love.
Collection of desi romantic short stories from my wild imagination which will lea...
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Two weeks later.
Ayat stood in the kitchen, the familiar scent of parathas filling the air as she moved quietly between the stove and the countertop.
The early morning calm was something she cherished, a time when the house was still asleep, and she could lose herself in the rhythm of cooking. It was one of the few things that brought her a sense of peace, especially after everything that had happened.
But today, her thoughts were scattered. The conversation with Arsalan last night had stirred something in her—a mixture of relief and sorrow. They had talked, really talked, for the first time in years. It had been comforting to have him there, to feel the connection they once shared, even if it wasn’t quite the same anymore.
Her hand stilled for a moment as she recalled how he had looked at her, his eyes soft with concern but also distant, as if he was still guarding a part of himself. She couldn’t blame him. His divorce had left him raw, and she knew better than to push him.
But that didn’t stop her from hoping, from wishing that maybe, someday, he might see her as more than just a friend.
The sound of Arsalan’s scream, calling from the bedroom, pulled her from her thoughts.
“Ayat"
She sighed softly, wiping her hands on a towel before making her way to the bedroom. Arsalan was standing by the desk, a slight frown on his face as he rifled through a stack of papers. His tie was askew, and his hair was still slightly damp from the shower—a sight that was both familiar and strangely comforting.
"Have you seen the red file I left on the table? I can’t find it anywhere."
Without a word, Hoor scanned the room, her eyes landing on the file half-hidden under a pile of clothes on the chair. She picked it up and handed it to him, her expression neutral.
“Here,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Arsalan took the file with a relieved smile.
“Thanks, Hoor. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
His words were casual, but they hit her harder than she expected. She forced a small smile in return, trying not to let her thoughts show.
She had always been the one to help him, to support him always, even after he got married to her, in whatever way she could.
As she turned to leave, the sound of Daniyal’s cry echoed down the hallway, pulling her back into the present. Her heart clenched at the sound, the maternal instinct kicking in almost immediately. She moved quickly, her footsteps light as she headed to the nursery, ignoring what Arsalan murmured.
