Anaya had never felt this irritated and angry at the same time. She sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, while Azaan and Aqsa talked about everything—except her. It was like Azaan was deliberately ignoring her and for what? They hadn't even fought. Didn't he know she had already argued with enough people today?
Fine. Two could play this game.
Casually, she lifted her foot—shoes on—and rested it on the dashboard. If there was one thing Azaan loved more than anything, it was his car. And if there was one thing that annoyed him the most, it was someone disrespecting it. She smirked, snapping a picture of her leg for Snapchat, just to push his buttons.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him tense. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw flexing. Any second now.
"Apna snap le lo chadi aur phir pao utaar do" he said, his voice calm—too calm.
Anaya didn't even look at him. She took her time, adjusting the angle, making sure the shot was perfect before again snapping a picture for Snapchat.
Azaan's glare could've set the whole car on fire.
"Anaya, pao utharo."
She finally turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Nahi utharungi. Koi masla hai?"
His eyes flickered toward her, dark with irritation. "Tumhe pata hai mujhe pasand nahi hai yeh. Just listen for once."
She leaned back in her seat, completely unfazed. "Oh, I know." She gave him an innocent smile. "But guess what? Not my problem."
Azaan exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath. His patience was snapping, thread by thread.
"Really?" His voice dropped lower, almost dangerous. "You're going to be this childish?"
Anaya acted like she hadn't heard him, scrolling through her phone lazily. "Yep. And you can't do anything about it."
Azaan's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.
"You sure about that?"
Before she could react, his hand shot out—fast, firm, and deliberate. He grabbed her ankle and effortlessly lifted her foot off the dashboard, placing it firmly back on the floor.
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing into a glare.
"Yaar, tum kitne dramatic ho."
He scoffed. "Dramatic? Tumne meri pehli begum ki tauheen ki hai!"
Yes, he called his Prado his begum and his shoes his children—he was completely obsessed with them, as if they were the most important things in his life. She understood, he had bought them with his own hard-earned money, not given by anyone, yet the obsession still ran deep.
"Begum nahi gaadi hein " she said with a shrug. "Aur woh bhi bekaar."
Azaan gave her a long, pointed look before turning his attention back to the road. "Phir kabhi meri gaari mein mat baithna."
She rolled her eyes. "Nahi baithungi tumhari gabr mein. Isko bech ke naya kuch nahi le lete?"
Azaan let out a short laugh. "Tumhare abbu ko kehna khareed dene."
Then, after a pause, he added with a smirk, "Main toh apni sasur se ek G-Wagon lunga, meri teesri begum hogi."
Anaya raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Tum dahej loge, seriously?"
He shook his head, grinning. "Dahej nahi, gift hota hai."
Her laugh was dry. "Gift nahi, dahej hota hai. Aur tumhe koi kyun dahej dega?"
