Kahani Hamari Fasana Hamara

Chapter 8

Mariya Raha Ayub

After meeting with Ahmed, I spent the rest of the evening with Kainat. She had her facial and insisted that I get one too. I finally gave in, and it felt so relaxing. I was utterly exhausted and ended up falling asleep early.

I joined everyone in the backyard, where Kainat’s mehendi was already halfway done. I settled beside her, reminiscing about the last time I had applied mehendi three years ago. As the henna artist began working on mine, I opted for a simple design.

I hurried through the crowd, scanning for anyone who might have a safety pin. With each step, my dupatta threatened to slip off my shoulder, and I struggled to keep it in place. Climbing the staircase, I finally reached the landing, only for my dupatta to slide off completely. With a sigh, I bent down carefully, mindful of my still-drying mehendi.

As I reached for my dupatta, I noticed someone’s feet on the upper stair. Looking up, I met Faraj's gaze as he leaned down, a mix of concern and amusement in his eyes. I stood up quickly, trying not to disturb my mehendi, feeling a rush of nervousness and anticipation at his unexpected presence. In a swift motion, he retrieved my dupatta from the floor.

“May I?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. The corner of my mouth twitches with the ghost of a smile as his eyes lock with mine.

Faraj was wearing a crisp white kurta pajama, his hair impeccably styled. There was something intriguing about him—perhaps the way he walked and spoke with such confidence, almost like a prince. Yet, despite that air of nobility, nothing about him suggested he was like the other wealthy men I had encountered.

“Aren’t you just the perfect gentleman all of a sudden?” I said, pressing my lips together to stifle a smile.

He smelled like fresh lemon with a hint of warm, woody cedar. Why did my mind suddenly feel dizzy? His hair looked so soft that I almost wanted to run my fingers through it—

No. Absolutely not.

He was the epitome of perfection, and it disgusted me

He steps closer, leaning in slightly, the sudden warmth of his presence wrapping around me.

“I'm only trying to be a gentleman for you, Mariya Raha Ayub,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous whisper. A shiver ran down my spine, caught in the tension of the moment.

He was saying my full name. How did he know my full name?

“Good try, though I’m not impressed,” I said, attempting to sound casual despite the pounding of my heart.

He gently draped the dupatta over my shoulders, arranging it with meticulous care on both sides in a way that sent my pulse racing.

“Looks like I’ll have to work harder,” he said wryly, stepping away. But his voice betrayed him, a hint of something deeper lingering in the air between us.

“Good luck, mate.” I said mockingly, ascending the stairs.

He said something, but I didn’t catch it. I made my way to my room, where I was staying with Kainat. As I entered, I noticed I had five missed calls from Ammi. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I found myself lost in thought.

I glanced in the mirror, taking in my reflection. I was wearing a dark green kurta and pant set, the kind I reserved for weddings and special events. I half-clutched my hair, appreciating the little makeup I had applied—just some blush, mascara, and lipstick.

I grabbed my phone and called Ammi. She picked up after just two rings. "Assalam walekum, Ammi," I greeted her warmly.

"Walekum Assalam," she replied, her tone lacking warmth.