❝ 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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"Arsal? Aap thik hai na?" Ayat's voice was soft but carried the weight of concern. She stood in front of him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to uncover the storm brewing beneath the surface. Arsalan could feel her worry, but he didn't want to confront it.
Not tonight. Not after everything.
He wasn't ready to admit the frustration bubbling inside him-the way he had to hold back during dinner, watching Fariz casually take up space in their home, his presence almost oppressive.
Every glance Fariz threw in Ayat's direction, every word exchanged, it all made Arsalan grit his teeth behind a polite smile. He wasn't in love with her, no, but something about Fariz's lingering made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar emotion.
From the very childhood, he was the first best friend of Ayat. Her angel, but when he went abroad for studies, they were forced by the situation to create distance between them, but it wasn't a problem to both of them. Ayat used to call him whenever she was free, and he did the same. The friendship was still very strong until Fariz entered.
He still remembers the day he returned for holiday and spotted Ayat showing her drawings book to Fariz. Ayat has always been an exceptional artist.
Arsalan, as her best friend, always supported her. Even when his grandmother was so against it. Ayat used to show her creativity first to Arsalan only but them when he noticed that Fariz was too getting the treatment that was limited to him. He felt something burning inside.
He felt like Fariz was taking his placein her life & that was enough for him to hate him.
It was so silly for a 24 year old to feel, but it was what it is. And that was the moment when Fariz fucking Sheikh became the uncalled, unannounced enemy of Arsalan khan.
Arsalan turned his attention to Ayat now, her question hanging in the air between them. He didn't want to talk about what he felt-hell, he couldn't even name what he felt. So he gave her a brief smile, one that didn't reach his eyes, and gently pulled his hand away. He didn't want to talk about the frustration gnawing at him, nor the relief he felt now that Fariz had finally left.
"Haan, bas thak gaya hoon." He kept his tone light, trying to pass it off as exhaustion. His mind, though, was far from rest. He was relieved, not tired-relieved that Fariz had finally left.
("Yeah, just tired.")
Ayat, as usual, didn't press further. She was good like that-too good. She had always been too understanding, too accommodating, and it was moments like this that frustrated him more. He knew she sensed his discomfort but chose to let it be. She gave a small nod, though her eyes betrayed the flicker of worry before she turned to prepare for bed.
Later, after getting ready for bed, Ayat quietly picked up Zainab, while Arsalan cradled Daniyal in his arms. For a few moments, they sat in silence, their children nestled against them, the weight of the day's events momentarily forgotten in the peace of holding their babies. It was a brief respite, a pause in the whirlwind of emotions that had been circling Arsalan all evening.
