No Conditions, Whatsoever

An unexpected guest

Umm hi! *Smiling in nervousness*

Eid Mubarak to all my readers. You guys are welcome to thrash me verbally but I'll suggest you to read the chapter first.

But yes, before anything else, PRAY. If you're done with that, then please go ahead.

Author's PoV:

Ayan stood on the stage conversing with his brothers. All three of them were dressed in black tuxedos, but only Ayan wore a bow tie. Their wives had not arrived yet and the venue was starting to fill up.

Mariam was busy scolding the little kids for running around so freely. She wore, for the first time in the last two decades, a saree. The peacock green of her outfit went perfect with her pale complexion, a feature that she passed to all her children. Her head was covered with a white hijab and she was now looking at her watch, wondering when the girls would come.

The reception hall was full of friends and family. Mariam, despite Ayan's protests, had invited all the relatives, distant and close, to the Walima of her youngest son.

There were food stalls just outside the hall where women stood in groups, excited to taste the Pani Puri and Ras Malai, among the many other delicacies. The ice cream stall was, on the other hand, crowded by kids who almost jumped in anticipation.

Inside the hall, the groom was beginning to lose patience. He kept stealing glances in the direction of the main door, and this soon caught the notice of Arhaan.

“Sabr, mere bhai, sabr,” he joked and received a glare in return. Ahan let out a chuckle but deep inside he too was waiting eagerly to see his wife. “I think our wives are planning to kill us with their beauty once they arrive here.”

This time Ayan smiled.

“I'll go check the arrangements outside,” Ahan excused himself and turned to leave but stopped midway as he caught the sight of something.

The other two men followed his vision, their breaths getting caught, and hearts starting to beat rapidly.

Ashiya, wearing a purple gown with a mint coloured dupatta and a matching hijab, entered the hall first. She looked around curiously, a natural smile playing on her lips as she saw some familiar faces.

Next came Zaara, donning her royal blue sharara with the same coloured dupatta. Her hair was put neatly in a bun and her ear lobes were decorated with heavy jhumkas.

Following the two entered the bride and as she did, she heard the crowd suddenly going silent. People let out gasps at the sight of the beauty that stood in them, some of them even whispering praises.

Feiha stood confidently in her heavy, maroon coloured lehnga. Her facial features were enhanced with makeup and her figure was perfectly hugged by her dress. She smiled shyly at first and then began to take slow steps towards the stage.

She knew she was pretty so she felt no nervousness regarding her looks. Even the crowd didn't affect her much as she walked.

But…

Feiha made the mistake of lifting her eyes to the stage where Ayan stood and, in a second, she felt herself getting weak in the knees.

He eyed her from head to toe, his senses lost as the only thing he paid attention to was his wife.

His wife…

The thought ignited a heat in his pit, a sort of burning that could never be quenched but only grow more with time.

There was something in his gaze that made
her gulp. It looked like he was visually devouring her from a distance. As she got closer, she saw him clenching and unclenching his fists.