Aziz-E-Qalb

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Happy reading ❤

⚠Slightly mature content ahead⚠
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Author's POV

The soft chirping of birds, the golden morning sunlight, and the crisp winter air made the weather feel almost magical. The clear sky and warm rays peeked through the window, inviting a new day.

But something felt off.

Zaina stirred slightly, attempting to burrow deeper into the warmth surrounding her. But then—her entire body ached. A dull soreness spread through her limbs, reminding her of something very recent.

Her brows furrowed.

"Why does my bed feel... so warm? So soft? And why is it... moving?"

Her sleepy haze evaporated instantly. Eyes snapping open, she blinked, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar dark brown walls.

"These aren’t my walls..."

Panic bubbled inside her until she felt a firm grip tighten around her waist. Her gaze flickered downward, and her breath hitched.

HIM.

Lying beside her.

Watching her with a mischievous smirk.

Her eyes widened in horror. She was about to let out a scream when he abruptly closed the distance, capturing her lips in a deep, urgent kiss. His rough lips devoured her softness, demanding a response she was too stunned to give.

A muffled whimper escaped her when he suddenly rolled them over, her thighs instinctively locking around his waist as he pressed against her. The intimate friction made her gasp—a clear reminder of last night.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

"Ibrahim..." she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper.

(A/N: His middle name is Ibrahim, so don’t be confused 😉)

Musa groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, his restraint slipping. He trailed wet kisses down the column of her neck, his grip possessive, his movements slow but deliberate.

"Ibrahim... I’m still sore," she whimpered.

He stilled momentarily, then let out a deep chuckle, nipping at her earlobe.

"I’m sorry, baby," he murmured against her skin, "but you’re like chocolate to me. One taste... and I just keep craving more."

She shivered, feeling his smirk against her collarbone.

"Aap kyu khaane ki baatein kar rahe hain, Ibrahim? Maine waise bhi kal subah se kuch khaya nahi—"

She froze when she felt him tense against her.

His grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly.

"Aur kyu nahi khaya ye bhi bataayein, Zaina?"

Her heart dropped.

He never called her that. It was always Ain or baby. Never Zaina.

She swallowed hard. "Uhmm... vo Faizan Bhai Asher ko chhor gaye the mere paas... uske saath khelte khelte pata hi nahi chala shaam kab ho gayi," she said nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

But Musa didn’t smile. Instead, he pulled away completely, grabbing his shirt and tossing it toward her.

"Isi liye mujhe bachche pasand nahi," he muttered, his tone distant. "Unka dhyaan rakhne mein maa-baap khud ki fikr karna bhool jaate hain. Ek din kisi aur ke paas chhor do toh uski jaan pe ban aati hai."