𝘐𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘧𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘲𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘮 𝘩𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘪𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘪 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰~
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Zyra's POV
I stepped out of the car carefully, my fingers gripping the soft folds of my pink and light blue lehnga, lifting it just enough to keep it from brushing the ground. The net dupatta slid over my arm as I moved, its delicate embroidery shimmering in the evening light. My hair, loose and cascading down my back, caught the faint breeze, lifting slightly as I paused for a moment at the edge of the door.
The soft clink of my bangles echoed in the quiet, mixing with the distant hum of voices from the marquee ahead. I took a deep breath and glanced up, the stairs leading to the entrance seemed to stretch out in front of me, the lights above casting a soft glow over the path. With one final check to make sure everything was in place—jewelry sparkling, dupatta secured—I stepped forward, my lehnga swaying gently with each movement.
I gulped as I took a deep breath and entered. My eyes immediately found Amma's, her gaze locking onto mine. She looked me up and down, her lips curling ever so slightly with a hint of distaste. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I moved toward her, feeling the embarrassment settle deep in my chest.
"Ya Kiya makeup thopa hua ha munh pa?" she asked, her tone sharp with annoyance. I blinked, sadness tugging at the edges of my expression.
(What kind of makeup have you plastered on your face?)
"Kinza did it," I murmured, quietly mentioning my friend’s name, hoping it would soften her reaction. It didn’t.
"Jao halka karo... Munh dho apna" she ordered, her hand gesturing towards the bathroom with impatience. "Ajeeb pagal," she muttered as she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, the sting of her words lingering.
(Go lighten it... Wash your face.) (Such a weirdo.)
I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over, and made my way toward the bathroom, my heart sinking as I prepared to wash my face.
I pushed open the bathroom door, and the tears fell before I could stop them. My reflection stared back at me—broken, trembling. My hands shook as I brought them to my face, my lower lip quivering as I tried to hold myself together. Bloodshot eyes framed by hazel stared back at me, filled with sadness and exhaustion. I looked... fine, didn’t I?
The honeyed tones of my skin shimmered under the harsh bathroom lights, but it was that very skin I loathed. No matter how radiant it was, I hated it because they hated it. To my family, I wasn’t beautiful. I was something less, something "other"—just because I was brown. A disgusting creature, unworthy of love or acceptance. My chest tightened, and I felt the weight of their judgment crush me.
I closed my eyes, trying to blink away the pain, before grabbing a handful of cold water and splashing it over my face. The makeup smeared slightly, but it didn’t matter anymore. I wiped at my eyes, taking a deep breath, and forced myself to leave the safety of the bathroom.
The hall was packed by now, voices rising in celebration. I slipped to the side, seeking the corner, hoping to disappear. I found an empty seat and sank into it, eyes scanning the room with a neutral expression, as though nothing had happened. My sisters were laughing, talking amongst themselves. The world was moving around me, but I felt so detached from it all.
And then I saw him. My brother, the groom. He caught my eye from across the hall, and a soft smile tugged at his lips. It was gentle, filled with love—the kind I so rarely received in this family. Like our father before him, he loved me unconditionally. My heart swelled for a moment, and I returned his smile, grateful for that small shred of warmth in a sea of cold stares.
He motioned for me to come over, his eyes kind and inviting. I hesitated, my emotions swirling dangerously close to the surface. I shook my head, biting back the urge to cry. Not here. Not now. I couldn’t break in front of everyone. I just couldn’t.
I quickly looked away, feeling the tears threatening to spill over. But just as I blinked them back, my gaze locked onto the most mesmerizing eyes I had ever seen.
My breath caught in my throat. He was… stunning. Unreasonably handsome. The kind of man you only see in passing glances, too far to ever know, but close enough to feel. Yet, here he was, holding my gaze from across the crowded hall. Guests moved between us, the clatter of conversation swirling around, but his eyes never left mine. And I couldn’t look away either. It was as if the room faded into the background, and all that remained was the intensity of his stare.
A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, breaking the trance. I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand, glancing down in embarrassment. But when I looked up again, he was still watching. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… they were burning with something, something that made my heart race. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossing over his broad chest, muscles flexing under the fitted sleeves of his kurta. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were strong, veins visible beneath his skin. He was the kind of man who looked like he could command attention without uttering a single word.
I gulped, nerves tingling through me as he tilted his head ever so slightly, those beautiful eyes narrowing in curiosity, or perhaps amusement. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, heat creeping up my neck and settling in my cheeks. Why was he staring at me like that? I could feel my pulse in my throat, a mixture of panic and excitement fluttering wildly inside me.
Before I could make sense of it, the sound of my phone ringing shattered the moment. I snapped my gaze away, my heart pounding, my mind still spinning from the intensity of his stare. But even as I fumbled for my phone, I could feel his eyes on me, like a fire I couldn’t escape.
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A NEW STORY FOR MY ANGELSS~
Check out my YouTube where I'll post edits of this book : @goldenros_ss
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Paasban
RomanceMusa Jawad, a 31-year-old powerhouse, is the ruthless and enigmatic CEO of Jawad Khan Companies. With success at his feet, he is a man of few words, driven by ambition, and haunted by shadows of his past. Cold and calculated in the business world, M...