LOVE WITHOUT DESTINY

part 10

The screen flickered to life as Zain connected to the video call. Noah's cheerful face appeared, her wide smile lighting up the screen.

"Wow, Zain," she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. "Everything looks so beautiful and grand! The lights, the decorations—it's all so mesmerizing. I wish I were there."

Zain chuckled softly, his voice carrying a playful warmth. "Don’t worry, Noah. When I get married, you’ll be the first one to receive the invitation."

Noah's heart skipped a beat at his words, though she quickly masked her feelings with a laugh. "Zain, you’re always joking," she replied, though deep inside, she wished his words held more meaning.

Unbeknownst to Zain, Noah had always harbored feelings for him, a quiet admiration she had never dared to confess.

Meanwhile, Asma, standing nearby, accidentally caught a glimpse of Zain’s video call. She shook her head with a teasing smile. “Oh, Professor Sahab,” she whispered to herself. “The first time I ever had a crush on someone, and of course, he already has a girlfriend.”

Zain ended the call with a casual, "Alright, Noah. I’m a bit busy now, but don’t worry—I’ll send you all the pictures later."

With that, he returned his attention to the buzzing excitement around him.

Today was no ordinary day. It was the day when Islamabad was witnessing one of the grandest weddings the city had ever seen. The streets buzzed with luxury cars, the likes of Ferraris and Bentleys, as business tycoons, high-profile politicians, and celebrities made their way to the opulent venue.

The mansion of Syed Imran, one of the wealthiest names in the country, was bathed in a golden glow under the evening sky. Chandeliers hung from silk-draped tents, while fountains sparkled like diamonds. Every corner of the estate radiated luxury, with floral arrangements imported from Paris and crystal décor shimmering under fairy lights.

This wasn’t just any wedding—it was the wedding of Dua, Syed Imran’s beloved daughter. Her doli was about to be lifted, marking the end of a celebration that had the entire city talking for weeks. The air was thick with excitement, the sound of dhol beats echoing across the estate as guests mingled and laughter filled the night.

Zain stood in front of the ornate mirror in his room, adjusting the cufflinks on his crisp white sherwani adorned with intricate gold embroidery. His look was regal yet understated, exuding the charm that came so naturally to him. His hair was neatly styled, and the light musk of his cologne lingered in the air.

Just as he was slipping on his gold-embroidered shawl, Shanaya walked in. She took one glance at him and smiled warmly, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.

“You look perfect, Zain,” she said, stepping closer to fix an imaginary crease on his shoulder. Then, in a soft, almost conspiratorial tone, she added, “But do me a favor—keep that hand of yours slightly hidden tonight. There are far too many guests, and we wouldn’t want anyone asking unnecessary questions about... well, you know.”

Zain glanced down at his hand, his expression momentarily clouded, but he nodded. “Don’t worry, mom. I’ll manage,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of unease.

Meanwhile, in another wing of the grand mansion, Amal was seated on a velvet stool in front of a large gilded mirror. The room was buzzing with activity as Asma helped her get ready. Amal’s outfit was a masterpiece—a deep maroon lehenga intricately embroidered with gold zari work, paired with a dupatta that shimmered under the soft glow of the chandelier.

“You’re looking breathtaking,” Asma said, fastening a delicate necklace around Amal’s neck. “If only you could see yourself right now.”

Amal gave a faint smile, her fingers lightly grazing the mehndi on her hand. Her thoughts were elsewhere, but she let Asma’s words wash over her, knowing she was expected to play the part of a glowing bride’s sister.