As the sun peaked through the pearl white curtains, she twisted to look at the clock on the wall. It read two in the afternoon. She instantly gasped, her eyes growing two times wide. It seemed that the two had barely gotten any rest apart from each other, so now that they finally reconciled, they heavily overslept.

She tried to jump off the bed; however, her husband's tight hold on her waist didn't budge. She glared at him; he seemed to be deep asleep, his light snores ringing against her frame. She attempted to ease his clasp, gently pulling at his wrist but his hand didn't move the slightest, infuriating her.

"I know you're not asleep," she muttered begrudgingly against him, and then very casually, his pink lips broke into a smile, but his eyes remained shut.

"Zaib, do you realize it's two pm? We've slept for a total of eleven hours!" She shrieked, pushing at his chest to escape his arms, but his body merely moved a little and then recovered back to his original position. Her strong force had no impact on his large build.

"You're so tiny. You can't even get out of my embrace," Zaib finally broke his long silence with a charismatic smirk on his lips. She sighed at his silly expression and replied annoyedly. "Your hold is strong," she muttered.

"I'm not even using a quarter of my strength Hayati." She visibly froze, her mouth parting in surprise at the unheard-of nickname. A cluster of butterflies sprang to life in her chest and every inch of her body; her frame tightened. She swore she heard her heart drumming against her chest.

"Hayati?" She mumbled in an inaudible voice, questioning whether she even heard him right.

He picked up on the bashfulness of her tone and immediately opened his eyes. He internally thanked himself because if he hadn't, he would've regretted it; her round cheeks had burned up and the brown hair clung to her neck making her seem as dazzling as ever.

He resisted the urge to kiss her. "Do you not like it?" He rasped; his voice was groggy because it had only been a moment since he'd woken up. He had felt her twisting and turning to leave the bed yet he selfishly held her to himself, enjoying her adorable struggles to loosen his hold.

"I—I do." She immediately responded.

Seeing her bashful confession to liking the nickname, a sense of great joy bloomed in his eyes. "You like that I call you my life, Zoya Hayati?" He muttered again sensually slow, emphasizing every word. She winced at his teasing tone and then threw a punch at his chest as she lowered herself into the blanket bashfully.

"You're so annoying!" She grumbled. He chuckled aloud, grabbing onto her covered frame and hugging her to him.

"Remember when you called me your soul?" He reminisced, the memory of their honeymoon flashed back into his mind; an adorably shy smile uplifted her lips as she tried to persuade him to go zip-lining with her and of course, her charms had worked.

Zoya was naturally confident on the exterior but in front of him, she lost her cool and morphed into a red tomato as soon as he flirted. Just for him, she was a timid-awkward-woman as if back in her teenage years, speaking to her crush for the first time. It excited him that he'd be the only one to know the coy, unrestrained Zoya Malik.

He was so busy thinking of her, Zaib didn't realize she had already poked her head out of the blanket and was staring at him.

"Why'd you still remember that nickname? I only used it once," she suddenly spoke up, causing his thoughts to diffuse into thin air.

He edged closer and gently kissed her nose. "I can't forget anything you say to me." He pulled back; however, his nose still nudged hers as he stared into her ocean eyes. "But I'm not going to use it," she softly mumbled against him.

He quirked an eyebrow, questioning her silently. She replied to his curiosity, "I like to call your name, Zaib."

And that's all it took for him to pull her into a breathtaking kiss as he eased his hold on her waist and he held onto her face gently.

As they pulled apart, she grumbled against his chest. "Zaib, we need to shower, clean up the house, and then cook for the family dinner tonight and you're not letting me go," she persisted, her gaze playfully harsh as she protested. The man frowned in response.

"I haven't seen you for two weeks," he argued, his face twisted into a scowl. "Seems like you didn't miss me much," he muttered and dejectedly let go of Zoya's waist as he sat upon the bed. He harshly yanked the blanket off of him and stomped to the washroom.

"Zaib!" She called out- he had already shut the door and left. Zoya frowned. It had been a mere day; she had no intention of getting him riled up.

She sighed, getting up. She folded the blankets and fixed up the bed then sat waiting for Zaib to return. The heavy sound of water pouring from the faucet could be heard. She ran her fingers through her wild hair and pulled herself together, leaving to the kitchen.

She decided to make him toast with scrambled eggs. Zaib was more diet-conscious; he enjoyed eating healthy and light breakfasts like eggs or cereal; Zoya, on the other hand, was more extravagant. She enjoyed pancakes and waffles. This rift, however, never troubled the couple. At times, she'd make them both eggs, and other times Zaib would willingly devour pancakes.

She heard the door slam open, quickly serving the breakfast, she waited. Zaib walked out, adorning a white button-down and beige trousers, a small towel hanging around his neck as he swiftly ran it through his hair.

Zoya stared mesmerized at the sight of him. Her husband was impeccably handsome; his tall stature, wide shoulders, and lean stomach were a delightful view- his eyes were even more pretty forest green. His aquiline nose and thin lips perfectly suited his face as if designed through an AI system. She corrected herself instantly; Allah's creation was unimaginably perfect; an AI was upon a human's weak intelligence. Their creator was beyond any imagination.

"Why're you staring at me?" She hadn't realized but he had already sat onto the chair facing her and bit into the toast.

"You look good," she blurted and immediately visibly cringed, her embarrassed frame lowering into the chair.

'Why would you say that, idiot.'

He froze. His wife's complement was music to his ears and his heart fluttered excitedly. Then he gained control over his reactions and eyed her suspiciously. "If you're trying to coax me to not be mad, it's not going to work."

'But God, it's working already.' He scolded himself inwardly. He was a weak-minded fool before his wife- there was nothing he could do about it.

"You're unfair!" She suddenly yelled. "I missed you. I couldn't get out of the house to attend lectures, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. I missed you more than anything. Can't say the same for you," she bitterly spat, her heart pounding when she remembered that dubious phone call from his cousin. She rolled her eyes and stood up, marching away to the room.

He reacted instinctively, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his lap. Zoya, shocked and flustered, glared at him.

"What makes you say that?" His gaze was cold.

Zoya had no intention to bring up things of the past, but she couldn't contain her bafflement from that phone call. She averted her eyes, but his grip on her tightened as if forcing her to maintain the intense stare-off.

"You were comforted by Mariah," she gloomily murmured, even her body shook saying it out loud. She hated the bitter feeling left in her mouth as the words left her.

She looked up at him: his gaze resembled nothing she had seen before. He seemed shocked at the fact that Zoya was aware of something which had completely left his head.

"I didn't even realize how big of an idiot I was," he muttered, his gaze lowering in embarrassment. He felt guilt wracking his head. He shouldn't have ever spoken to another woman about his marital life, no matter what circumstances.

"I messed up Zaib. I made you feel insignificant, so I know why you confided in Mariah," she explained with a forced smile on her lips.

"No." He looked up earnestly and winced at her forced smile. He held her hand into his. "No, it was so stupid of me. I- didn't specifically go to tell her or anything. It was impulsive- I didn't even realize it until now." He screwed his eyes shut frustratedly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything Zoya. Why didn't you complain earlier—?"

Zoya interjected by kissing his cheek. "I'm not mad at you. I was annoyed but it's okay now," she explained, a bright smile uplifting her mouth. Zaib surveyed her and then eased, embracing her lovingly.

"Wait... how did you find out?" He asked, pulling away.

"Uh..." she muttered.

"Did she call you?" His voice reverberated in the house. Zoya jerked at his sudden outburst. Her silence was the confirmation he needed. His jaw tightened at the idea of his bratty cousin calling his wife specifically to flaunt over this little incident.

How pathetically desperate had she been for her to meddle in their lives like that?

"Zaib, I've took care of it."

"Did you?" His tone remained harsh. She eased her arms around his neck and nodded. "I think Mariah—she likes you."

Zaib's face twisted in disgust at the statement.

"I don't care."

Zoya broke into melodious giggles while Zaib remained uncomfortable.

:):):):):):):):):):):):)

Now that the pair had reconciled, Zaib realized that there had been no formal visit from his wife's family in their new home. Originally, they had planned upon inviting her family over after the two got some time off work. But due to the scuffle, they never got to it. Zaib decided to hold a dinner party tonight.

While Zoya had eaten brunch and left to take a shower, Zaib decided upon the menu. Now, Zaib was no chef, but he had learned some great recipes from his mother back in college; he had to leave overseas for a trip with his mates and couldn't rely on the city's restaurants since almost nothing was halal.

Most of the recipes consisted of Pakistani cuisine, and from what he heard, Zoya's family greatly enjoyed their delicacies; therefore, he began to prepare for their dinner.

On the other hand, Zoya was giddy with joy, dolling up for the night. She dressed herself into a pastel pink floral skirt, white button-down shirt with a complimenting pastel blazer. She also ecstatically curled her hair as there wouldn't be any non-mehrams present. She wore the bracelet gifted by Zaib and finished the look with pearl-coloured stilettos.

With a few touches of makeup, she left the room bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She looked around for Zaib and stopped against the kitchen door. There her husband stood against the sink. Dressed in a yellow apron, turned away from her as he washed the tomatoes. She gasped, rushing in at the sight.

"Why're you cooking? Zaib, I'll do it!" She screeched. He chuckled at her tantrum and turned to face her. He stopped dead in his tracks, his heartbeat picking up pace.

She looked like something out of a fairytale; her eyes were large and dazzling; her lips and cheeks were stained red. Her brown hair beautifully cascaded down her shoulders and her heels made her look tall, almost Zaib's height. He suddenly felt starved and wanted to embrace her.

"Zaib..."

He snapped out of his daze, his wife's charm obliterating any form of common sense from his system. He blinked and gulped. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

Then he ripped the apron off him and pulled her into a soft, sensual kiss.

"You ruined my lipstick!"

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

"Zaib I could marry this biryani right now, it's so good," Bilal groaned, taking in every flavour that was hitting his taste buds in that moment. Zaib chucked at his friend's exaggerated reaction to his homemade biryani.

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy it," he exchanged an amused glance with his wife who seemed to be giggling at her brother's reaction.

"Seriously speaking, you put out an amazing spread for us today," Zoya's father spoke up gesturing to the various dishes on the table. Zaib took the compliment well, thanking his father-in-law: he went all out to impress her family.

For appetizers, there was chicken corn soup and pasta salad. The main course following consisted of; fragrant mutton biryani, topped with all sorts of herbs and spices; traditional Kashmiri rajma chawal (kidney beans curry with plain rice); lamb seekh kebabs with parathas; and chicken-stuffed buns. The dessert consisted of kheer and honey-glazed nuts.

He wanted to give them a glimpse of his culture that he held close to his heart and make them feel his love and respect towards them. Zoya's family was also his family.

He watched as their faces lit up with every dish, praising his cooking abilities. Even Zoya agreed that he should cook more often. They had usually divided the chores so Zaib would be cleaning more than cooking- whenever he did cook, Zoya fell deeper in love with him.

What he enjoyed the most about this dinner, however, was the atmosphere. Zoya's family were all very light-hearted and vibrant as her- if he hadn't known about their struggles, he would never have assumed they were going through a hard time. They were strong-hearted people; always having faith in Allah even when it came to the worst situations.

No wonder Zoya had been raised to be the wonderful woman she was. It did ache him that their previous problems majorly stemmed from her trying to improve her family's financial situation, but every bad did have a good.

Zoya had been able to repay a lot of her father's debt and Bilal had provided the rest- both siblings working tirelessly to make ends meet. The family was finally stable- Zaib would make sure that things would stay that way.

He looked over at Bilal and Zoya chuckling at some joke she had made, Zoya smacking him on the shoulder good-naturedly. He stared at her, dazed for a while at her beauty in that moment. The way her eyes crinkled at their corners, orbs sparkling with mischief, coloured lips parted as melodic laughter escaped her. She looked so warm, so genuinely happy to be surrounded by her loved ones. He wanted her to be that happy forever.

Bilal leant over and whispered something in her ears to which Zoya turned her head and looked right at Zaib, a playful smile gracing her face. She raised an eyebrow as if teasing him for being caught staring at her and he quickly looked away, warmth rising to his cheeks. No matter how much he was used to her, he still felt that drumming of his heart whenever she made a move.

He flusteredly turned his attention to his mother-in-law, who wanted to make an announcement. "Zaib and Zoya, I, first of all, want to thank you both for inviting us to your amiable home. I can feel Allah's blessings on every inch of this house- it makes me so grateful that you two are building such a comforting and beautiful life together already," she then turned to only Zaib.

"My son, I want to thank you especially for being such a wonderful husband for our daughter. We've known about you for a few years now because of your friendship with Bilal but could have never imagined you would become a part of the family. I can tell there must have been troubles already and there are going to be in the future- that's just how marriage works. It's about struggles and learning; you have to cooperate and always come back to your love for each other. May Allah always bless you both."

Zoya and Zaib exchanged a glance with each other, feeling their bond more than ever. Zoya took in her mother's words and dwelled upon them. Every problem that had arisen so far had been due to the lack of cooperation, distrust and miscommunication. Although they would continue to have their imperfections as humans, it was their duty to also learn from their mistakes. And they both silently promised themselves to do that.

"Who's up for some board games after this?" Bilal's voice arose amongst the solemn moment, his mother glaring at him.

"What? I'm just saying- it could be a great family bonding activity."

Zoya just rolled her eyes, "Help us put away the dishes first." The three young adults got up to clean the table whilst the parents relocated to the sofa.

As the couple hurried back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room, they stole glances and a hand brush or two. Zaib winked at her as she left to get the last dish.

"Bro you've got to stop doing that, I feel like a third-wheel again," Zaib's attention diverted to the sarcastic man leaning against the counter. "She's my wife now so I can't help it and there's nothing you can do about it." Zaib sniggered as he rolled up his sleeves, approaching the dirty dishes.

Bilal joined him, picking up a sponge and getting started on the glasses. "She's still my sister, so it's weird to see her openly flirting with my friend, you know."

"Oh shut up Bilal, you're acting like you would never flirt with your wife," Zoya walked in, sticking her tongue out at him. "Looks like you guys have the dishes covered, I'm gonna go relax with Mama and Baba." She exited the kitchen, happy to spend time with her parents after so long.

"Speaking of, has anyone caught your eye for marriage yet? Ehsan and I are off the market which leaves you now, man." Zaib curiously asked.

Bilal sighed, adjusting the clean dishes on the rack. "I don't know man, I'm not looking for anyone right now. Just want to focus on work for a bit: I am the family's source of income right now. But if anything happens, it happens. It's all up to Allah."

"That makes sense. I always have you in my duas bro. I hope things work out for the better Insha Allah." Zaib had only sincere wishes for his best friend who had taken up many responsibilities and was putting in all the effort he could.

"Thank you, Insha Allah. Hope things are easy for you too, dealing with my annoying little sister every day," Bilal scoffed, "Has she stolen your food yet? Every time I made something for myself, that lazy brat would come and demolish my efforts. But to be fair, I did the same."

Zaib struggled to contain his laughter at the thought of Zoya doing such a thing. She had always been gracious with him, although she did like to try his food which he didn't mind at all.

"You siblings are going to be the death of me."

------------------

"Mama! I clearly beat Zaib's player like ten minutes ago, how is it nearing home already!" Zoya exclaimed frustratedly. Zaib leaned forward and smirked, "You're just annoyed that you're losing."

A sense of déjà vu hit the couple at that moment. The first Ludo game they'd played with Ehsan and Naimat was similar since Zoya had accused Zaib of cheating for the exact same reason.

"Y-you cheat! You did this before too. Do you use the same cheating techniques every time you play? Come on, get some originality." Zoya thundered.

The two of them were the only ones left in the game, Bilal having won already with her parents as runner-ups. Although Zoya couldn't win, she didn't want to lose against Zaib; especially after the damage to her pride from the last game.

"Do you always accuse others of cheating to cover up for your loss? Get some originality," Zaib mimicked, loving the fired-up look in her eyes.