Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Ignore the writting style and ignore the English grammar error)
“Aaraam se, jaan…”
Shameer murmured softly.It had taken them barely two hours to reach Lahore — a journey that should have taken longer, but his smooth driving and influence had cleared the roads ahead. He had already called his secretary, ensuring their route remained open.
Yes, it sounded unfair — but when it came to the Prime Minister’s wife and her pregnancy cravings, the world could wait a little.
Night had settled over the city by the time they arrived.
Abeeha had already messaged Jihan from Shameer’s phone, informing him about their sudden detour. Now Shameer stood beside her, guiding her carefully toward the restaurant entrance.
Months ago, when government work had temporarily shifted him to Lahore, he had insisted she join him — unable to bear the distance.
Back then, she had discovered this small café. She wasn’t even a chicken lover… until she tasted their loaded shawarma wrap. And somehow, after months, the craving had returned with full force.
Shameer pushed open the glass door. A soft bell chimed above them.
The café felt unusually calm — almost too quiet. Warm lights glowed softly against empty tables. A glance outside revealed the “Closed” sign hanging on the door.
Which meant only one thing.
Shameer had cleared the place entirely for her.
“Oh… welcome,” a man in his thirties suddenly appeared from behind the reception counter, startling Abeeha slightly.
His eyes looked puffy, as if he had been asleep moments ago.
He paused, processing the scene. His gaze moved from Shameer to Abeeha — her shy, slightly embarrassed expression said more than words ever could.
After a brief moment, he straightened himself.
“Aaiye… baithiye. Main abhi aapke loaded chicken wraps laata hoon,” he said politely. But not before shooting Shameer a final, disapproving look.
He disappeared toward the kitchen. Abeeha leaned closer, her voice dropping into a soft whisper.
“Mujhe aisa kyun lag raha hai ke yeh humse naraz hai…? Shayad humein yeh sab nahi karna chahiye tha…” she said, guilt flickering across her face.
Shameer pulled out a chair for her, helping her sit before taking the seat opposite. He placed his hand gently over hers, his thumb tracing soft, reassuring circles.
“Ab itna mat sochiye,” he murmured warmly. “Just focus on me… aur humare little champ par. Okay?”He gave her a playful wink, and her tension eased almost instantly.
