𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫| humpy, grumpy

'And he kisses her'—my reading is interrupted when my mother storms into my room, a cake in her hands. "Zaira, dear, get up and take this cake to Nazeer's house," she says. I groan in frustration.

She loves baking, always trying out new cakes.

I don't want to stop reading just to deliver a cake.

Can't Mom go herself?

"I don't want to go, Mom," I tell her. "Why don't you go yourself? You can spend time with her too."

"If I had the time, I would’ve gone already. Now get up, put on some decent clothes, and go." She places the cake on my bedside table and leaves.

Sighing, I close my book and mark the page. I get out of bed and head to my closet, pulling out a soft floral dress. Its light, airy fabric is adorned with delicate pink blooms, and it has puffed sleeves.

Next, I grab my blush pink bag, which features a quilted design, a sleek gold chain strap, and a compact, structured shape.

I place the dress, bag, and shoes on my bed and head to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once I'm dressed, I admire how comfortable and pretty the dress is. The moment I saw it at the mall, I had to buy it. I dry my hair, freeing it from the towel, and settle on a stool to finish the job.

Afterward, I apply some light makeup. I leave my hair down, letting the soft strands cascade over my shoulders.

Finally, I sling the bag over my shoulder.

(Her look)

I grab the cake from the table and make my way out of the room, heading to the kitchen where my mother is busy with chores.

“Mumma, I’m going,” I say. She turns towards me, a smile touching her lips as she says, “aab bhi toh insaan lag rahi.” I huff at the half-compliment, half-insult.

(See, now you look like a human)

The car’s engine is already running as the chauffeur waits. Wasting no time, I slip into the back seat and tell him to start driving.

In less than fifteen minutes, we arrive at the Khan mansion.

(Imagine this as Khan's mansion, guys)

I quickly make my way inside, the soft sound of my heels echoing with each step.

“Aunty,” I call out, but no one responds. Where has everyone gone? This house is so quiet—it’s been a while since I’ve been here.

As I turn around, a woman in her fifties smiles at me. She must be the caretaker.

“Hi, umm... I’m here to deliver this cake.” Her eyes drift to the cake in my hands. “My Mumma baked it, so she sent me over.”

The lady smiles. “Okay, dear. Why don’t you sit down while I put this in the fridge?”

“Thank you.” I hand her the cake, and she leads me to the living room, motioning for me to sit on the sofa.

Once she’s gone, my eyes wander to the photo frames on the wall. It’s their family pictures.

Not resisting the urge i get up and walk over to one of the photos. In it, Nazeera Aunty and her husband are standing beside—Aryan’s father.

I never saw Aryan’s father in real life, but I remember Nazeera aunty telling my mother about his death. I didn’t pay much attention then—I was a kid myself.

But as I grew older, I understood why Aryan and his brother, Arhaan, live with their aunt and uncle. Nazeera Aunty is their father’s older sister.

In the photo, Aryan is in his mother’s arms. He looks about five years old. a smile playing on his lips.

It was so rare to see him smile.

I remember when we were kids, he would always sulk in a corner. I’d give him all my toys and candy, but he never took them.

As a child, I couldn’t understand why. But now, when I think about it, I realize why he was so quiet.

“Mam.” I’m startled by the sudden voice. Turning around, I see the lady holding a tray with a glass of water.

“Water?” she offers. I nod and walk over to take the glass from her.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, taking a sip.

“Mam has gone out with sir, and Arhaan. Aryan sir is upstairs,” she explains. I place the glass back on the tray. “Do you want me to get him?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go myself.”

I make my way to the stairs and soon reach the second floor. There are four rooms here. Which one is Arhaan’s now?

Two doors catch my eye, and one of them has a sticker that reads, “Humpy, Grumpy.”

A grin spreads across my face. This is definitely Arhaan’s room.

That bastard borrowed a thriller book from me and still hasn’t returned it.

I knock on the door twice before pushing it open. It’s quiet as I step inside.

“Arhaan?” i walk further in the room until i reach the bed,

Behind me, a door creaks, and I turn around—only to find Aryan.

Guess who messed up again?

______________________________

That’s it for this chapter!

I know it’s a short one and not much happens here, but I had to end it like this because the next chapter will be from Aryan’s point of view. Yes, our very first chapter in his POV—trust me  you’re not ready for it!

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