When Dreams meet Destiny

Chapter 26 : The Reception

Maryam stirred awake, her eyelashes fluttering against the sunlight streaming into the room. She shifted slightly, only to find herself wrapped tightly in strong arms. For a moment, she blinked, disoriented, wondering where she was. Then it dawned on her—she was in Yahya's arms, in their room, in their home.

Her gaze moved to his peaceful, sleeping face, and her heart skipped a beat. He looked breathtakingly handsome, his features calm and serene in the morning light. She tried to wriggle free, but Yahya's grip was firm. After a gentle struggle, she managed to pry his arms away and tiptoe out of bed.

By the time Maryam finished her bath and was sitting at the dressing table blow-drying her hair, Yahya had woken up. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her to apply her makeup in peace.

Just as she was putting away her brush, Yahya emerged, half-dressed, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, water dripping from his hair. Leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe, he watched her intently.

"Good morning, wifey," he said, his deep voice laced with a teasing warmth.

Maryam blushed, caught off guard. She smiled shyly and was about to reply when her gaze fell on faint marks on his neck. Her cheeks flamed redder as she realized what they were. Standing abruptly, she approached Yahya, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward the dressing table.

"What—?" he began, but Maryam's determined expression silenced him.

"Just stand still," she ordered. Sitting on the dressing table so she could reach his height, she leaned in close, examining the marks with a frown.

Yahya smirked as their faces were now inches apart. "What are you doing?" he asked, clearly amused.

Ignoring him, Maryam picked up a concealer and began dabbing it lightly onto his neck. "I need to cover these," she said, her focus entirely on her task.

"Why?" he asked, his tone teasing. "Don't you think I should flaunt them? I'm married now—what's there to hide?"

Maryam glanced at him, flustered, her cheeks turning pink. "No way! Everyone notices everything, and they'll tease me endlessly. I'm not ready for that."

His smirk widened as he teased, "Shy? Where was this shyness last night?"

Maryam's blush deepened.her voice barely above a whisper. "Stop it!"

Chuckling, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and cupped her face. His gaze dropped to her lips. "By the way," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips, "nice lipstick. But honestly, your lips don't need it."

Maryam's breath hitched as he leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave. "May I remove it?"

She pushed him away playfully, her laughter spilling out despite her embarrassment. "No need!" she exclaimed, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

Yahya laughed at her reaction, his dimples making an appearance. When she was finally ready, she began clicking mirror selfies to share with her sisters. Yahya, now dressed in a crisp white kurta with rolled-up sleeves, walked over. He placed a hand on her waist and posed beside her for a picture.

"Don't you want to click pictures with me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow when she glanced at him.

"Of course," she replied, smiling as she admired their matching outfits—him in white, her in a cream-colored Pakistani dress. The coincidence made the photo perfect.

As Maryam walked out, engrossed in texting her sisters, Yahya held the door open for her. She paused, lowering her phone, and smiled at his gesture.

Outside their room, a beautiful painting caught her attention. She stopped in front of it, studying it closely.