Chapter- 1

440 26 8
                                    

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.


Note: "Her/She, He/His" is used for the main leads

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Note: "Her/She, He/His" is used for the main leads.


Third Person's POV:

"Finally the exam is over." Jiya exhaled a sigh of relief as they emerged from the exam hall. Her relationship with exams could best be described as "Hatership". While she detested them, it seemed her results reciprocated the sentiment. As they strolled through the lobby, the sound of jubilant cheers caught their attention. Turning towards the playground, they witnessed a throng of students circling energetically, their cheers echoing throughout the area.

"Why are they cheering?" Aaliyah inquired, her gaze scanning the crowd with a sense of urgency.

"Let's go and check." Jiya exclaimed with excitement, admitting reluctantly, muskan didn't want to go, but she was left with no choice. She Followed them, weaving her way through the crowd due to her shorter stature. Mahenoor, Aaliya, and she trailed behind. As they finally emerged from the throng, they were greeted with a surprising sight that left all of them stunned: a boy was on one knee, proposing to a girl. But he wasn't just any boy to her. She stood there, unsure how to react, her expression impassive, while everyone around them cheered for him. It was Zamir Qadir... the boy she had loved for as long as she could remember. He wasn't her boyfriend, but he was the first boy she had ever loved, the first boy who had made her shed tears, the first boy who had kept her awake at night, and the boy who, whenever she saw him, made all of her worries disappear.

As the flashbacks flooded her mind, she couldn't shake off the memory of that humiliating moment. Her clothes drenched, sprawled on the ground, surrounded by a chorus of laughter from her peers. Amidst the ridicule, there was a glimmer of hope-a hand reaching out to her belonged to Zamir. They had first crossed paths at the tender age of eight, but their interactions remained sparse over the years. She admired him from a distance, enchanted by the way his hair swayed with each movement. Their initial eye contact, conversation, and subsequent friendship were etched in her memory. Through countless conversations, they had grown closer, becoming best friends. Yet, amidst their bond, there was a painful revelation-he harbored feelings for Aiza, a truth he had never confessed.

Mulazim-E-Al-Wadood Where stories live. Discover now