Make Me Your Villain

Chapter Forty Seven

Hayat Azhar

Sania stood by the window of the room, her fingers tracing the edge of the glass as she stared out at the street below.

"Something on your mind?" I asked, setting down a glass of fresh orange juice beside her.

She didn't look away. "It's just... a lot of new people seem to have moved into the neighborhood lately."

I frowned, following her gaze. So, I wasn't the only one who had noticed?

"What about Sameer bhai?" she asked, her voice casual but I could hear the hint of curiosity she was trying to hide.

"He might stop by later."

I sighed. It had been days since Sameer last showed up and I could sense the space growing between him and his family. He hadn't gone back to the haveli, not even once and I couldn't blame him. But that left me in a difficult position—I couldn't lie to his mother when she called me.

Everyone knew my engagement with Zohaib was off now. People we hadn't spoken to in years suddenly showed up to 'console' us. But their sympathy felt fake, like they were more interested in gossip than anything else.

"Hayat!" My mother's voice called from downstairs, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glanced at Sania, hearing the sound of conversation from below.

With my dupatta hung over my shoulders, I made my way down. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw my mother forcing a polite smile.

"Oh, here she is," she said, gesturing for me to come closer. My eyes landed on our unexpected guests.

I quickly guarded my expression. "Assalamu Alaikum."

"Wa Alaikum Assalam," aunty Tabassum replied, though the other woman avoided eye contact.

"I'll make some fresh juice," I said to nobody in particular but aunty Tabassum shook her head.

"We came to talk to you, Hayat."

I exchanged a quick glance with my mother, who nodded for me to stay. "I'll handle the refreshments."

I turned back to the two women seated before me.

"Sameer," his mother began. "You know where he is, right?"

I gave her a nod. "Yes, but he's not here at the moment."

She lowered her gaze. "He's upset and he's been avoiding us. But you're smart, Hayat. You're a good person. Help him understand that staying angry with his family isn't the right choice."

My eyes narrowed slightly as I glanced between her and Gulbano saheba. These women, wrapped in their fancy chaddars, didn't belong in a house like mine. Yet here they were, asking for my help after everything they'd put me through.

"I can't do that," I replied and both of them blinked in surprise. "If I tried to convince him to do something, I'd be 'brainwashing' him, wouldn't I?" I threw Gulbano saheba's own words back at her.

Her eyes fell shut for a moment. "I was wrong," she admitted quietly. "That's why we came here, to talk to you."

My mother came back with a tray of juice and pastries, setting them down on the table. She gave me a stern look, expecting I'd cooperate. But she knew exactly how these people had treated me.

"I'll talk to Sameer," I declared, pursing my lips. "But like I told you, I can't make him do something he doesn't want to."

"He'll listen to you if you try hard enough," Gulbano saheba pressed, making me grit my jaw.