"This armchair looks perfect next to the couch," Zoya concluded, her eyes glossing over the settled furniture which Zaib and her had cumbersomely pushed to an appropriate position until it attained her satisfaction. She had skillfully, reading magazines after magazines, prepped to go shopping and discussed colour schemes with Zaib.

Zoya was always excited to create and decorate her home so, she put her plans into action. Despite jet lag, Zaib gladly accompanied her, going through the furniture store as she beelined from one lane to the other, appreciating and observing the vast showroom of utilities.

Anything she seemed to fancy, he bought without a second's thought.

"Now that our home's complete, I can finally sleep all day," Zaib laid exhausted with a lethargic smile on his lips as he drummed his fingers ceremoniously. Zoya giggled, surveying his frazzled eyes. "Is that your happy dance?" She threw her head back, laughing upon his nod.

"You can't be so tired yet. We have a whole family dinner to prepare for!" She announced and Zaib immediately sat up as his mouth dropped with a slight 'oh' of realization. His family was coming over for dinner tonight.

"Yeah, oh," she parroted. "I've already decided the menu so I'll start cooking," she stood, stretching and then skillfully wadded her hair up in a high bun. She noticed Zaib studying her but after the momentary silence, she initiated her steps towards the kitchen.

A step away from him, he grabbed her arm and pulled her on top of him, her gasp filling the room. He cradled her like a newborn child and then dropped a peck on her cheek. She whined, kicking the air to leave his protective hold.

"Zoya Malik, you look acutely gorgeous when you tie your hair like that," he muttered and then stared into her melting gaze. She always enticed him and managed to throw him off guard at the most random of times.

"I'm sweaty and disgusting from all the work. Stop hugging me so close," she bashfully admitted, wanting to leave his lap. Zaib stared with a pinched forehead and then wordlessly closed the gap, kissing her mouth.

"You're mine, both dolled up or sweaty gunk so I get to hold you whenever," he chirped and her cheeks inflamed as she pushed against his chest. After finally breaking his arms loose, she jumped out of his embrace and dashed to the kitchen, sighing at his bittersweet words.

Zaib followed her into the kitchen, crackling his fingers as if he were about to show Zoya his immaculate karate skills of chopping the onions with his wrists. She stared blankly as he grabbed the potatoes from the vegetable basket.

"What're you doing?" She mumbled narrow-eyed. He turned back and shrugged. "Helping you with the veggies," he answered nonchalantly and she immediately pushed at his back. "I'm making dinner alone," she declared and then gave another push at his back, waddling him out of the kitchen.

"What? But..why? I can help—" she shook her head, determined to disapprove. "I need to prove to you that I am indeed an amazing chef, with or without your help," she explained.

Zaib turned around, his gaze filled with mirth. "You can't cook better than me so don't try babe. I'll be here to support," he winked her way as he proceeded to step back into the kitchen. Zoya shrieked, stomping for his attention.

"After this dinner, you'll beg for my food but too bad, I'll have proven my worth and will enjoy your suffering," Zoya huffed up an evil laughter and then fled back to whisking the eggs.

"But— you're already so tired Zoya. Just a little help, I won't tell anyone," he shushed himself, smugly implying he would keep the secret. Zoya giggled and refused again.

"I want to cook for you and your family Zaib. If I get too tired, I'll call for some assistance," she reassuringly smiled back at him. He found the weirdest sense of comfort within that smile and his tense frame eased. Even when she was exhausted, her eyes were two bright lamps of glory, uplifting him.

He didn't just want to lounge around while she worked, so he grabbed the cleaning cloth and started with the tv stand, dusting the strands of dirt collected after the furniture placement. They had turned the place upside down before buying furniture and later didn't have time to clean.

While Zaib cleaned the living room, his gaze kept loitering back to his wife who busily worked in the kitchen. His chest filled with gratitude. The blessings of Allah were uncountable.

:);):);):);):);):);)

"It smells so nice. Can I taste test?" He lingered outside the kitchen while she unleashed her hair from the bun and discarded her yellow apron. She eyed him, a smirk appearing on her lips as she shook her head, disapproving.

After cleaning the house spotless, he had taken a refreshing shower, ridding himself from the sweat and dressed into jeans and black button-down shirt which Zoya had urged him to wear as she wanted the couple to have complementary outfits.

"I'm going to get ready now and you'll be a good husband who'll wait till the dinner officially begins," she patted his head, to which he playfully rolled his eyes and nodded. She giggled and jogged back to their room, hopping into the shower. He sat back on the couch, sniffing the mouthwatering whiff of the cooked dinner, gulping down his hunger. She seemed excited to only let him taste once his family arrived; therefore, he complacently sighed and hoped for them to hurry.

She took approximately lesser time than usual since his parents were already on their way. After blow-drying her hair, she pulled on her loose jumpsuit, realizing the neckline was quite deep, she wore a light-coloured plain shirt underneath. She did a light touch-up of makeup, waiting for her hair to dry completely before tying it back.

"Zoya, are you done? Baba's car is around the corner," he called out. Zoya quickly unlocked the bathroom, stepping out.

Zaib, who stood against the door awaiting a response, surveyed her, his gaze softening. She appeared like a ray of sunlight and made his chest contract with love. She was petite without heals and after the shower, her hair appeared as soft as a cloud, he just wanted to run his fingers down the strands.

"You're so pretty," he breathed causing her toes to curl bashfully. She walked towards him and enlaced her arms around his waist. "You look the same, just smell better," she muttered.

Zaib snorted, his laughter reverberating within the silver walls of the room. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her nose. "You couldn't have just said a simple 'thank you'?" He accused, glaring playfully. She giggled about to respond when suddenly the doorbell chimed.

She pulled away, rushing towards the dresser with the viscous grey hijab and adeptly tied it around her head. Zaib stepped towards her and grasped her hand within his. He deliberately tightened his hold, assuring her with a warm smile and led the way towards the entrance.

Zaib pulled the door open and was pounced upon with a tiny Zayna, locking her arms around his neck.

Zaib's hearty chuckle made Zoya smile as she witnessed the siblings reunite. It seemed like Zayna was the closest to her eldest brother and she usually mocked him but deeply respected him and his ideas. If Zaib didn't like her dress, Zayna would get slapped by her parents for delaying them rather than wear that dress.

"You're back after a cool holiday which means you brought gifts, right?" She fawned, eyeing him almost as if he said otherwise, she'd abandon him right then and there. To her satisfaction, he nodded and kissed her cheek. Zayna then rushed to embrace a joyful Zoya, who greeted her with warm kisses.

"Baba," Zaib respectfully greeted, hugging his father who then he turned to greet Zoya, his eyes small, like the crescent moon with a wide smile uplifting his mouth. "Zoya, I hope you had a good time dear," he spoke gently.

Zoya's smile could only widen. "I had an amazing time baba. This house is also a huge gift from Allah. I couldn't have dreamed of anything better," she coherently expressed her love, catching Zaib's attention who glanced sideways and smiled generously.

Zaib's mother was also a little less turbulent than before. Her eyes reflected a distinct warmth as she reverently greeted Zoya and hugged her. A huge mass of anxiety dropped from her chest as she noticed the considerable change in his mother's tone.

Zain's greeting was icy like the cold waves of the ocean, his tone dispirited and eyes blank. Zoya felt the little mountain of anxiety build back up on her chest as she led the family to the couches to settle down. Zaib was caught up with Zayna's list of complaints regarding Zain as he earnestly listened and scolded him.

"Zoya, do you like the new house? Is it to your liking? I told Zaib it'd be better for the both of you to choose and rent but he was impatient," his mother explained and Zoya's smile returned.

"Auntie, he's the architect so I don't mind. The house is not too small and just the right place for the two of us and even the ventilation system is the best so I love this place," she reassured and his mother nodded.

"I'll set the dinner and then give you guys a tour," she chimed and then sauntered to the kitchen, reheating the food items. Zaib's mother followed surprisingly and helped with serving the food on the table.

As Zoya was about to grab the final dish of lasagne to serve, Zaib's mother suddenly grabbed her hand, causing Zoya to halt and withdraw her attention towards her. She smiled at Zoya and then spoke up. "I've noticed you call me auntie and Zaib's dad, baba," she started and Zoya's heartbeat fluctuated.

"I'm sorry that's because—" his mother interjected. "No don't be sorry Zoya. I was the one who was indifferent towards you and didn't truly accept you when you first came home," she smothered an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry for that. I know I went overboard. But, I do like you," she added. Zoya felt a gush of relief within her body, evoking her relish.

"I know I disappointed you at first because as a mother, you're protective and don't want Zaib hurt," Zoya commenced. "But I want to assure you that he is someone I'll treasure till the end," she concluded.

His mother returned a massive smile which Zoya had honestly never seen before. Even on their wedding day, she wore a suppressive smile with a conflicted gaze. Seeing her break her, seemingly cold exterior, Zoya wanted to give away everything she owned to charity due to the happiness blooming inside her.

"You can call me mama from now Zoya," she concluded. Zoya nodded affectionately, hugging her close. "Yes, mama." Zoya could cry at the spot with the amount of relief and sheer joy jostling within her veins.

The table was packed with various dishes, ranging from a well-cooked roasted chicken surrounded with wedgies and garnished with ginger spice, a salivating pumpkin soup and a chopped Olivier salad to freshly baked lasagna and a chicken curry paired with rice. There were two jugs of drinks, one was cold water and the other included rich lime juice.

Zaib walked towards the dining table and froze in his footsteps. He scanned the food, his eyes wide with hysteria and then glanced at Zoya, unable to believe his sight. She noticed his gaze and intentionally winked at him, looking away with pride. He wouldn't dare challenge or rattle about his chef skills ever again.

"You made all this?" Zayna gasped, quickly jumping onto a seat. Zoya smiled.

"Wait, Zoya... you made all of this? For us?" His father stared in disbelief as he along with Zain took their seats. Zoya nodded, confirming their curiosity.

"Zaib told me Zayna enjoyed European food so I made lasagna. Baba and mama both enjoy Pakistani dishes which I'm not very fluent with but I tried making chicken curry. Zain and Zaib like chicken roasts and the soup and salad are just my contribution," she simplified.

Zaib's mother smiled. "We have an entire chef as our daughter-in-law!" She squealed and everyone laughed, excluding Zain who wore a blank stare the whole time.

Zoya felt an arm around her waist and turned to find Zaib who smiled graciously and then led her to sit. The feast began silently but soon flooded with compliments and awes' from Zaib's parents. She noticed Zaib beaming as he ate every dish on the table but never commented on any of it. She felt slightly dispirited but tried to ignore.

Maybe now he would say something..maybe now..now maybe? Okay now, he should say something!

But he just stuffed himself more and smiled like an unnerved idiot. Zoya sighed.

Zayna ate so much that she found it hard to stand straight and was carried around by Zaib when they took the family for a house tour. Zoya took them around the rooms and the kitchen, then the garden outside where they had also installed a swing.

"The wall here is too empty so we'll paint this together," Zaib told them, indicating at the blank wall and his mother nodded agreeing.

"Masha Allah, the house is wonderful," Zaib's father smiled and then patted Zoya's head with love. "I hope you both start a joyful and new part of your life in this house and you get to see all your dreams come true."

The couple smiled.

Time passed by soon after praying Isha, with the men debating over which team would take home the FIFA World Cup and the women discussing discount season for the branded shops and clothing lines. Zaib's mother even spilt some secrets about her son and the things he liked and didn't and embarrassing moments from his childhood.

Zoya learned that Zaib's favourite fruit used to be watermelon until one day in fifth grade, he choked on the seeds and since then he was traumatized and afraid to eat anymore. Zaib played the centre in basketball for his high school tournaments and celebrated victories with his friends at some pizza shop. He was not very book smart and mostly winged his tests and exams until tenth grade rolled in and his father explained how important education was for an individual. Zoya wondered how this athletic, discouraged boy ameliorated into a brilliant architect of today.

Later when Zayna fell asleep on Zoya's lap, the family decided to return home.

"I need to take a call," Zain excused himself, heading to the other end of the living room while the family nodded and strolled out to the exit with Zaib carrying the sleepy Zayna within his arms.

"I'll be back. I need to pack the curry for baba," she told Zaib, without glancing at him. He nodded smiling at her but Zoya turned away with nothing more than a glance. He sulked, thinking maybe she was exhausted and left outside with his parents.

"Yeah, shouldn't it be delivered today?" Zoya backtracked as she heard the indifferent whisper of Zain. "Bro, it's LSD! The payment is so high." Zoya gripped the railing of the staircase as she put two and two together. She felt the food that she had probably digested already wanting to rise up her throat.

"No, but you keep increasing the price."

"Alright, I'll get the money ready. Change your location. Recently, the police are more active around the corner." And then he shut the call.

Zoya couldn't move her feet. It was like an invisible chain that had glued her feet to the exact spot. So when Zain turned around, his gaze met hers and initially his face was masked with shock and then distress. And then he walked closer.

And then he smiled.

"I'm guessing you overheard most of the conversation," he glared and then smiled once again. "What're you gonna do about it sweet little sister-in-law?" More than a question, it seemed like a threat.

Zoya gulped. She realised she had been holding her breath and then quickly inhaled the suffocating air, regaining the colour of her face. "You realise drugs are not only illegal but dangerous for you? Zain, you're abusing yourself."

Her voice was stone cold and more than anger, she felt pitiful towards him and all the lives who depended on such cheap ways to grow.

His smile faltered and his fists clenched. "Don't try to lecture me. I live my life the way I want to. And if you tell Zaib or anyone about this, then I'll make sure my family gets rid of parasites like you."

Zoya felt like he had slapped her with his repulsive analogies but she mustered up a blank stare, no matter how much she wanted to scream for him to get out, she had to talk without anger. "Zain, this is wrong. I don't want to say anything to anybody. But if you're going through a problem, we're here—"

"Zain, aren't you done?" Her husband's voice called out from outside and Zain immediately dashed out towards the exit, never glancing back.

Zoya felt cold against the kitchen counter.

💜