Pyaar Mein || پیار میں

TEASER

"Dil mein laddoo phoot rahay honge na tumhare?" she spat, large black eyes narrowed and citrus dripping in her voice.

"Nah." He clicked his tongue, leaning into her side and as his huge bicep connected with her dainty shoulder, a voltaic shudder ran through her. With a grin curving at his mouth and dark-hued gaze smouldering into hers, he whispered, "Besan ki mithai."

Her heart flipped in her chest at the mention of her favourite sweet snack in such a charming manner.

Damn him for remembering every little thing about her.

She felt her cheeks heating up, impelling her to avert her gaze but Zunyra Awan broke hearts, not eye contact.

Never.

So she held it, stared into those keen and chaotic spheres of ink that seemed to follow her around everywhere these days, as boldly as she could muster―internally grateful for the coral pigment smearing her cheekbones that covered the blush underneath.

"You sure are enjoying yourself huh?" She arched a brow, perfectly trimmed and sharp.

A deep chuckle, and then he veered his head to the illuminated dance floor ahead charged with an effervescent group of people moving in sync to the desi beats, jazzing up the mehndi event and putting on a performance before the couple of the night.

Her and him.

The soft and hushed sigh of relief she let out after being freed from his highly contagious attention mingled with the balmy air of July and became their shared little secret.

But before she could heave back a breath, his eyes returned to her, dark brows hoisting up as he queried;

"What's stopping you from doing the same?"

Sneering, she made a snarky gesture with her hand and extended it towards him as she bit out;

"My groom."

Her answer was supposed to nip at his ego, snatch that levity off his face and foil the fun he was having―not soften his features, deepen the intensity of his gaze and make him smile like she had actually accepted him as her groom.

And that look was not supposed to pull at the strings of her heart and make it pound so fiercely against her ribcage.

From the periphery of her vision, she noticed his right hand stretching out at the round table―decorated with a colorful array of flowers, sweets, alight candles and platters―and scooping out a smidgen of ubtan from a small pot.

The next moment, she felt a breathtakingly slow sweep of his ubtan-laden fingers across her cheek.

If her heart was pounding before then the succeeding words that came out of his lips almost made it explode in her chest.

"Only yours, Zunyra."