Mulazim-E-Al-Wadood (On hold)

Chapter 43

Third Person's POV

Muskan sat on the worn wooden stool in her room, scrolling through her phone, a notification pinged on her screen, pulling her attention back. It was a bank alert.

10,000 rupees have been deposited into your account.

She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she processed the amount. She didn’t need to guess who had sent it. Without a second thought, she dialed Zayn’s number, her irritation simmering as the dial tone rang.

“Assalam o alaikum,” he answered, his voice as casual as ever.

“Wa alaikum assalam. What is this, Zayn?” she snapped, wasting no time on pleasantries. “Why did you send me this money?”

There was a brief pause, then a low chuckle from the other end of the line. “Oh, come on, Muskan. Did you really think I’d let a girl pay for the bill?” His tone was almost teasing. “I was only messing with you. Believe it or not, I’m not that type of guy. And don’t even think about using this as another excuse to avoid me.”

Muskan rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the slight curve of her lips. “I wasn’t avoiding you, Zayn.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, a grin she could practically hear in his voice. “Just accept it. Don’t overthink everything.”

With a huff, she hung up, shaking her head. Zayn always knew how to throw her off balance with his words, leaving her somewhere between irritation and amusement. The last thing she wanted was to think about him more than necessary.

The next day, Zayn pushed open the door to the café. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods hit him instantly, the warmth of the place contrasting with the chill of the outdoors. But even more familiar was the sight of Muskan, her focus entirely on counting an assortment of pastries on the display shelves. Rubina Aunty and Shayra were both serving the endless crowd, leaving Muskan juggling between tasks.

Zayn glanced around, noticing that every table was occupied. He sighed, but a glimmer of a smile formed as he decided on a new plan. He made his way over to Muskan, who still hadn’t noticed him standing nearby.

“Assalam o alaikum,” he greeted, his tone light yet laced with that familiar mischievous edge.

Muskan, still focused on her task, responded without sparing him a glance. “I don’t have time for your nonsense, Zayn. Leave.” She didn’t even pause in her counting, knowing exactly who it was by his voice, his scent, and his annoyingly charming way of speaking.

Zayn leaned against the counter, unbothered by her dismissive tone. “Do you have to be so rude? I’m a paying customer here, Muskan. At least pretend to care.”

Muskan sighed dramatically, slapping on a forced, saccharine smile and finally looked up at him. “Hello, Mr. Akhtar. Thank you so much for visiting our café every single day. Now tell me, what do you want? To have your face broken with this plate?” She picked up a nearby plate as if considering her options.

Zayn chuckled, finding her exasperation too entertaining. “You know, you look kind of cute when you force that fake smile of yours. I’d call it a signature move.” He broke into a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looked down at her. Unintentionally, Muskan found herself staring—his laugh was contagious, genuine in a way that made him appear different, almost softer. She caught herself before she could fully dwell on the thought.

But before she could respond, Rubina Aunty’s sharp voice echoed from the back, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Muskan!” Rubina Aunty called, hands on her hips as she observed the two with narrowed eyes.

Muskan’s cheeks flushed slightly as she turned back to her aunt, embarrassment creeping in. Meanwhile, Zayn raised both his eyebrows in an innocent, playful expression and greeted Rubina Aunty with a polite smile. She nodded back but quickly shifted her gaze to Muskan.

“Are you still not done packing those pastries?” Rubina Aunty asked, her tone pointed.

“I was packing, but he’s the one disturbing me,” Muskan replied, casting a pointed glare at Zayn, who just shrugged.

Rubina Aunty turned to Zayn, an eyebrow raised. “Zayn, you need something?”

“I was just asking if there was a vacant table,” he said, feigning innocence as he looked around the crowded café.

Muskan rolled her eyes. “Are you blind?”

“What?” Zayn asked, taken aback.

“Can’t you see there’s no place to sit?” she replied, gesturing to the busy tables surrounding them.

Zayn leaned back slightly, glancing at Rubina aunty with a smirk. “See? I told you ‘Rude Little Creature’ was a fitting name.”

Muskan scowled. “Can’t you come up with human names for me?”

He smirked, letting his eyes roam as if he were carefully considering. “Alright, how about… Hitler? It suits your attitude.”

Muskan’s jaw dropped, but before she could retaliate, Rubina Aunty stepped in, her arms folded, exasperation evident. “Enough. Both of you. Zayn, why don’t you wait here at the counter? You can use my chair until a table opens up.”

Zayn held up a hand in surrender. “You don’t have to worry, Beautiful. I’ll just take my coffee to go. No need to put yourself out for me.”

Rubina Aunty gave him a nod of approval, softening slightly. “Thank you for being understanding.”

Zayn winked. “Anything for you, beautiful.” They exchanged a knowing smile, both fully aware he was just being his usual playful self. Muskan, however, made a gagging expression, and Zayn couldn’t help but laugh again, leaning on the counter as he watched her pretend to retch.

Rubina Aunty looked at Muskan with a raised eyebrow. “You could learn a thing or two about charm, you know.”

Muskan gave a dramatic sigh. “I think I’m better off without that kind of ‘charm,’ Rubina Aunty.”

But as she turned back to the pastries, Muskan found herself smiling despite herself. Her day had been hectic, her mood as bitter as the coffee grounds she’d been grinding all morning, yet somehow Zayn’s teasing—his banter, his laughter, his warmth—had chipped away at her defenses, bringing an unexpected sense of lightness to her heart. Though she’d never admit it, she was starting to enjoy these little interactions, and each day they seemed to leave a slightly deeper mark than the last.