Jaan-e-Azlan❤

28

This part is highly unedited but published it anyways as a token of my apologization, for ghosting you guys for so long. But now I am back for good and I would not leave until it gets completed. Cooperate with me till I edit this part. Thank you and enjoy😉

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The house was buzzing with the usual warmth of family chatter as everyone gathered around the long dining table. Plates clattered, uncles exchanged jokes, children argued over who would get the last piece of roasted chicken, and in between all that noise sat Azlaan and Mantasha-side by side, yet in their own quiet world.

They had grown up in this house together. Their childhood was full of silly fights, endless teasing, and moments of silent comfort. Sitting together at dinner wasn't new for them; what was new was the way everyone's eyes lingered on them now-the newly wedded couple. Mantasha could feel the weight of those stares every time someone asked her if she needed more food or when her aunt smilingly told Azlaan to pass her the water.

Azlaan, being the eldest cousin, had always carried a certain presence at the table-confident, respected, and calm. Tonight, however, there was a softness in his demeanor, an awareness that Mantasha could sense. She kept her eyes on her plate, but she could feel his gaze on her, steady and unyielding.

"Pass me the bread," Mantasha said softly, not looking at him.

Azlaan reached out, his hand brushing against hers as he placed the basket in front of her. A brief spark ran through her at the contact, and when she dared to glance up, he was already watching her with that faint, knowing smile-the same smile he had carried since childhood whenever he caught her doing something clumsy or shy.

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly busied herself with her food.

Later, when dinner was over and the family began dispersing-some heading to the lounge for tea, others to their rooms-Azlaan lingered by the doorway. Mantasha excused herself, slipping out toward the courtyard, where the night air was cool and refreshing. She needed a moment to breathe, away from the watchful eyes of her family.

She walked slowly along the stone path, her dupatta trailing lightly behind her, and stopped beneath the old mango tree-their tree. As children, they had played countless games there; it had been their secret meeting spot, their fortress against the world. Standing there now, she was lost in thought when she heard footsteps approaching.

Azlaan.

"You always run away after dinner," he said casually, his voice carrying the warmth of familiarity.

Mantasha turned, a small smile tugging at her lips. "And you always follow."

He chuckled softly, stepping closer until the glow of the courtyard lights revealed the affection in his eyes. "Old habits die hard."

For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of crickets in the distance. Azlaan leaned lightly against the tree, his arms crossed. "Do you remember," he asked, "how you used to sneak extra mangoes during summers, and I always covered for you?"

Mantasha laughed softly, her eyes brightening with the memory. "I also remember how you blackmailed me for weeks with that secret."

"And yet," Azlaan said, his voice lowering, "you still trusted me with all your secrets."

Her laughter faded into a softer expression, her heart beating faster at the weight behind his words. Azlaan moved closer, his tone gentle but firm, the way he had always spoken when it mattered.

"Mantasha... nothing has changed for me. You've always been the one I cared for-more than anyone else."

She looked at him, startled by the honesty in his voice. His gaze was unwavering, filled with years of unspoken affection that no childhood game or teasing could ever hide.