**Winner 2024 Amby Awards**
Fiza has everything planned-medical school, a respectable future, and an engagement she never wanted. Determined to escape a loveless match, she creates a checklist to find the perfect husband her father will approve of.
...
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The next Saturday, Fiza showed up at my house, bright eyed and all smiles.
I let her in my room and I closed the door behind me.
She sat on my bed and looked up at me, her eyes brimming with enthusiasm. "Look at how many views we have!" she exclaimed, thrusting her phone in my direction.
I had checked our account a couple of days ago and had noticed the numbers climbing on our reel.
"Yeah," I said smiling at her. Around 50,000 views, 7000-ish likes already. "That's a good amount of money."
"We could run away!" she exclaimed smiling.
I laughed at her enthusiasm. Twelve thousand rupees was nowhere near enough to realistically support a life on the run. And yet... the image of it, just the two of us, our own little world, suddenly looked appealing.
But would I be willing to leave everything behind, to hurt my family, if it meant being with her? My father's disappointment, my mother's tears,would it be worth it?
"Would you run away with me, Fiza?" I asked, hating the way my voice trembled. Here we were, barely even acknowledging the love between us, yet discussing running away.
Her gaze searched mine and I wondered what she was looking for. Then, a smile curved her lips, and she whispered, "Let's run away now."
Before I could react, she pulled me closer, and I found myself tumbling over her, my body pressing into hers.
"Pappa would kill you," she breathed, her heart beating wildly against my chest.
"I'll take that chance," I whispered into her ear.
I sank into her, letting my full weight push me down, my face nestling into the crook of her neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her.
"I'm in heaven." I pressed my face closer. "There's nothing I want more than you."
A soft moan escaped her lips, and I felt her body arch subtly against mine in response. Her fingers brushed through my hair, and for a moment, we just existed in that suspended state—my weight on her, her touch on me, a perfect, breathless equilibrium.
"How do we always end up like this?" she whispered.
I lifted my face from her neck, shifting some of my weight onto my arms to search her eyes. "You'll tell me when to stop?" I breathed the question against her lips.
She nodded, her eyes wide and dark and I knew she was already losing her restraint.
I buried my head in her neck again, not to take, but to simply be. To feel the pulse under her skin, to breathe her in.
Her fingers began tracing gentle shapes on the nape of my neck and my upper back. I trembled, my whole body shuddering in response to her simple touch.
Then, almost of its own volition, my mouth found a new patch of skin. A tender bite, a soft suck—a claiming so gentle it was a question. I felt her gasp, her chest rising against mine. Her eyes closed, and I felt her almost vibrate against me.
