After her last class of the day, Zoya planned on visiting her old professor, who had supported her most of all in university, Ms Brooke. When Zoya had first arrived at the university, her nervousness had almost drowned her. She was intimidated by the prestigious building and the incredibly diverse group of people who spoke in various languages and bonded over them.

She started to build up a barrier and only spoke up when asked. She was relieved to have Naimat in the same building, if not classes; while holding onto that thread of comfort, she spent her first few weeks in the new world.

Ms Brooke had long been noticing the quiet new girl and started speaking to her after class about all sorts of things: studies, activities, hobbies, and favourite tv shows. The tension in Zoya's head poured out. Soon Zoya was confidently making new friends and adapting to her surroundings.

Ms Brooke was also the one who helped her secure a scholarship through Sir Adams, the director in charge, which led her to complete her last semester of university. Technically, she owed Ms Brooke her academic life.

"Kei, you don't have to come along," she insisted while arriving at the bus station along with Naimat and Kei. Kei ran her fingers through her now blue hair and smiled.

"I want to come along. Ms Brooke was my favourite prof," Kei stated earnestly, playing with her vibrant strands of hair.

It was true that she was dear to everyone. Since Naimat had to wait for Zoya to go home together after her Psychology class, Ms Brooke allowed her to attend her lectures.

"Zoe, doesn't Zaib pick you up from uni?" Naimat asked. Zoya nodded affirmably. "I told him I'd take the bus with you guys to visit Ms Brooke, so he reluctantly agreed," she explained.

Kei giggled, her eyes bright in fascination. "Zoe, your husband's whipped!" She declared as Naimat nodded excitedly.

"Kei, he's completely obsessed! Ehsan tells me that in uni, he acted tough as if he'd never fall for a girl. He even despised romance books itself, but look at him now: he expresses his love for her, even around us! He's even read romance novels upon her recommendation—"

"Really! Gosh, this guy sounds so wonderful. Zoe, I'm so jelly," Kei squealed, her eyes dilating with excitement.

With each word, Zoya's face grew hotter and hotter. She tried interjecting, but Kei's rambles kept going. "Austin is cute, but he's also confusing since he's nice to everyone. He doesn't differentiate between me and others, and it's frustrating. He has female friends that he gets along with and it makes me feel subservient," Kei sighed, "You know I grew up with my Asian heritage and I was always sheltered from having guy friends until uni. Austin was the first guy who broke down those walls."

"And it's just unfair that he had all those friends from childhood, who he's known longer and he treats them as well as he treats me. I just want to feel different, being his girlfriend, you know?" Kei's cheeks were flushed as she ranted on, "Austin just gives mixed signals. Zoe, Zaib doesn't do that, does he?" She questioned, concerned regarding her boyfriend.

Before Zoya could answer, Naimat cut her to it. "No way! Zaib knows better. He treats our Zoe with the utmost care, never have I seen him even converse with other girls."

Kei smiled sadly and nodded while Zoya quickly whacked Naimat on her back. Fortunately, the tension broke loose when the bus arrived.

The journey to Ms Brooke's house was a thirty-five-minute bus ride. Initially, Kei remained immersed in her thoughts; however, the trio eased up when Zoya started sharing some stories of her fights as a married couple.

"Nothing is perfectly stable, Kei. It is life; it's not a good place. It's a place of trial and error until we die," she heartily explained while Kei nodded, completely consoled and happy.

"That's true, but Austin still needs to learn a thing or two from Zaib," she laughed, and Naimat cheekily smiled while Zoya shrunk in embarrassment.

Ms Brooke's home was allocated in the centre of the city where the streets were swarming with traffic. Initially, the girls quizzically looked from their right to left, deciding to ask around. And after a ten-minute stroll, they were standing in front of an average-sized house with a fragrant garden surrounding it.

As they rang the doorbell, they heard a sharp meow, which assumably belonged to Ms Brooke's oversized cat, Milo. There was audible shuffling as she opened the door.

She gasped. "Oh my goodness! It's my lovely students," she embraced the trio lovingly and invited them inside. Her brass locks fell on her shoulder, and she adorned a plaid shirt with black trousers. Like Zoya remembered, her thin lips wore a warming smile which made the corner of her eyes crinkle, expressing her old age. Her grey eyes were overflowing with purity; it reminded her of her mother's expressive eyes.

She gave way, inviting them in. Upon entering, Zoya noticed how cosy her home was. There were multiple bookshelves and plants, as well as trinkets and souvenirs from her travels. The living room was a sage and cream colour palette, Ms Brooke's favourite colours.

"I'm so delighted to have you three here," she cheered as the three settled down on the couch. "Wait, I'll get you girls something to drink," she patted down her shirt and started for the kitchen.

"Oh no, you don't have to," they protested. "Just sit tight, I insist," their previous professor enounced from the kitchen. She soon returned with a tray of apple juice and freshly made cookies. The girls helped themselves to the treat. Ms Brooke's cookies were as warm and sweet as the lady, and all the women had seconds.

"Ms Brooke, it's been such a long time. I've missed you, especially your reminder e-mails because I never turned in my assessments on time," Kei gushed.

Naimat gave her a strange look. "Who likes reminder e-mails?" She asked.

"She liked them because I would include inspirational quotes from her favourite movies," Ms Brooke explained, comically rolling her eyes. Zoya and Naimat giggled.

"Thank you, Ms Brooke. You were a lifesaver!" She poked fun.

"Zoe, I've heard you've been doing well this semester," Ms Brooke commented, and Zoya eagerly nodded. "The exams were straightforward. I think I nailed them," she told her, earning a proud smile from her professor.

"Straightforward? Zoe, speak for yourself. These exams made my head pound," Kei groaned, and Zoya simply rolled her eyes while Naimat laughed into oblivion.

"Thank you for everything, Ms Brooke. I wouldn't have come this far if it weren't for your kindness," Zoya admitted graciously. The older woman shook her head as she grabbed Zoya's hand in hers, assuringly rubbing her hand on Zoya's.

"It's not my kindness. I've invested in you, child. You will do me proud after graduating," she softly stated. Zoya's smile brightened. She remembered her upcoming graduation. "We're graduating within two weeks. You have to be there!" She cried earnestly.

Kei also nodded exuberantly. "Yes, it'll be incomplete without you," they emphasised.

Ms Brooke was reluctant but soon agreed to join them on their upcoming graduation.

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

After leaving Ms Brooke's home, since Naimat wanted to drop by the supermarket and Kei had to attend her piano lessons, the trio willingly parted ways. Zoya had a vast amount of time to kill before Zaib came home in the evening. For a while, she sat at the bus stop and contemplated her next destination.

Suddenly. she had a bright idea.

She had never formally visited Zaib at his office after marriage.

Zoya felt giddy as she hurriedly hopped onto the next bus. She first made a quick trip to the grocery store and then walked back home and cooked juicy steamed dumplings alongside Zaib's favourite garlic sauce. The meal took about an hour to prepare, and by the end of it, she was a sweaty mess.

It didn't matter to her because when she imagined the sweet curve of Zaib's lips and joyful eyes, her exhaustion flew out the window.

She packed the meal into a lunchbox, and without taking a moment to gather her energy, she hurried out. With the fear that the dumplings would lose their moisture by the time she made it out, she tried to minimise her arm movement.

Instead of getting to the bus stop, she hailed a cab which was a more efficient and quick way to get to her destination.

Within the next ten minutes, she was standing before the towering building of Zaib's workplace. She took a moment to fan her face, realizing she looked flushed because of the constant hassling also growing cautious of her hijab and clothes. She wished she had changed her outfit and wore something more pleasant than pants and a button-down.

There was no time to waste on her insecurities; she needed to push herself and make her way to her husband.

And with that, she walked into the reception and asked for Zaib's office. The lady nonchalantly gave her the directions, and Zoya hurried upstairs to his office room.

The hallway was empty, and there was no sound present. Zoya almost did a one-eighty, but she noticed, walking closer, the lights were on for one particular room and realized that was her husband's office.

Was he the only one working late?

She sighed, her heart clenching for him. Her husband worked himself to the core.

Her strides widened, more impatient as she approached the door. She knocked lightly before hearing her husband's sweet voice.

"Come in."

She lightly pushed the door open and walked inside. Her eyes immediately found Zaib like a magnet. He was on his chair, leaning on his desk with a sharp pencil in his grip, his entire focus directed towards the sheet of paper on his desk- his other hand placed on his forehead. He hadn't looked up, so she took light steps towards him until she stood right next to him.

"What is it, Aliya?" He suspected it was her due to the rapid clicking of heels.

When he looked up, the pencil fell out of his grip, and he stared baffled.

"You—"

She softly giggled and edged closer, pecking his cheek. "Surprise, surprise."

He reacted fast. He stood up, straight away pulling his wife into his arms, his lips curved into a gigantic smile just like Zoya had imagined. She embraced him and then attempted to step back, but he kept her caged.

"What are you doing here?" He sounded breathless.

"What? Am I not allowed here? Is there something you want to hide," she playfully interrogated, craning her neck to look around. He chuckled, his eyes twinkling in joy.

"Of course you're allowed. But next time, give me a warning okay," Zaib kissed her forehead, and she shook her head, declining his offer.

"I finished early at Ms Brooke's, so I wanted to drop off these steamed dumplings, which you love so much. Come on quickly!" She remembered the lunchbox as she stepped out of his hold and unpacked.

"You went home to cook me dumplings?" He asked like it were a crazy thing to do. She nodded and handed him the chopsticks.

"You have to start eating, or they'll grow unappetizing," she warned. Zaib stared at her for a brief moment; green eyes tracing every inch of her, and then pulled her to sit on the desk.

"Zaib!" She squealed.

He ignored her embarrassed shriek and grabbed the lunchbox before picking up one dumpling and biting into the mouthwatering flavours. He hummed in delight.

"Where are your chopsticks?" He muttered, his mouth stuffed with food.

"I made these for you," she told him as a matter-of-fact while she surveyed him. His emerald orbs shone as he hummed, enjoying the dumplings. Zaib frowned.

"You're eating with me," he stated and fed one to Zoya. She reluctantly accepted it.

She squealed in triumph. "They're still warm!"

Zaib couldn't take his eyes off his adorable wife. She found happiness in the smallest of things, like an innocent child.

He was over the moon upon her spontaneous visit. The Zoya from the past would've thought a million times over if she should visit him; she'd have made all the excuses in her head.

'What if he's busy?' 'What if he doesn't like me coming over?' 'I shouldn't go.'

He realized that with every baby step Zoya took towards him, he wanted to run a mile towards her.

The door knock disturbed the two, and the clicking of heels approached them. Zoya abruptly pushed herself off the table, but Zaib grabbed her hand, holding it tightly.

"What is it, Aliya?" He monotonously asked. Zoya looked away towards the woman named Aliya.

Aliya seemed flabbergasted upon Zoya's presence, and she became pale, her eyes narrowing at their clasped hands and proximity. She feigned a cracked smile which fell right through Zaib.

Zaib was relieved because he could once in for all end Aliya's inappropriate behaviour.

"Zoya, this is Mr Jenson's assistant, Aliya," he introduced and then distastefully glanced at Aliya.

"This is my lovely wife, Zoya," he vocalized, wrapping his arm around her waist. Zoya felt the daunting tension, but she masked her emotions and smiled at the woman who seemed somewhat bitter. Aliya again cracked a disturbing smile.

"Nice to meet you," she muttered and excused herself before rushing out frantically.

"What was that about?" Zoya arched an eyebrow awkwardly towards her husband.

Zaib sighed in relief. "She likes me."

Zoya's jaw dropped as she absorbed his words. Her face grew hot as she felt a burn in her chest. "Why does everyone like you!" She hollered, aggravated. He chuckled at her outburst.

"I'm too irresistible," he winked.

She pushed him off and stubbornly marched out of the office, annoyed that other women were attracted to her husband. "Zoya, wait up!" He rummaged through the drawer, grabbing his keys and the lunchbox as he dashed out, following his wife.

Downstairs, the receptionist glanced at the scene unfolding before her. Zoya was hurrying out while Zaib tried to get to her. The receptionist gasped slightly, realizing the woman was their boss's wife, Zoya.

"Sir, are you done for the day?" The receptionist asked. Zaib nodded frantically and rushed out the door to his wife.

:):):):):):)(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:

Zoya sat in the washroom. Leaning against the edge of the bathtub, she felt frustrated at the universe for getting a charming man as her husband.

Outside the door, Zaib stood knocking every minute. She had locked herself inside for the past fifteen minutes. He kept on calling her, but she remained silent. Zaib was so frustrated: he almost pulled his hair out. "For the hundredth time, why are you even mad at me for something I can't control?" He asked, bewildered.

She always acted so mature; this caught him off guard. Was she offended by something he did?

"Zoya, baby..." he used a cringe nickname.

"Hayati..." he called out, trying to persuade her like he was calling out to a child.

There was nothing from the other end.

"Zoya, please open the door," he pled, holding onto the door handle in hope.

Nothing.

"Zoya." his playfulness disappeared.

"Open the door," his stern command made the air seem threatening.

"If you don't open it by the next three seconds, I'm breaking it down."

She gasped, pushing herself off the edge as she stared at the closed door. She knew Zaib wasn't messing around: his voice was chillingly serious. She decided to cut it out and whipped the door open.

Zaib stood before her. If there was any fury in his gaze before, it had dissipated by the time she broke down the barrier. He wrapped his arms around her waist, but she remained reluctant.

He surveyed her blank expression. "Can you at least tell me what's gotten you so mad?" He begged.

She sighed and finally opened her mouth. "It was hard when I found out Mariah was your admirer, yet I shrugged it off. I disliked her for getting you to open up to her, but I acted fine. Now another girl in your workplace likes you, and I hate it," she broke down her hurling emotions.

She was reminded of Kei's words and felt even more insecure. "Are you nice to every girl? Do you not differentiate between me and others."

She knew she was overthinking, but her emotions were in turmoil wanting to erupt from every direction.

"What?" He stared at her, baffled.

"Forget it," she muttered and stomped away to the living room.

She grabbed the tv remote and laid on the couch. Zaib was next to her in a moment. He was kneeling before her, blocking the screen of the television.

"Move your big head out of the way," she told him.

Zaib almost laughed, but he quickly bit his lip, knowing she'd puff up more if he laughed. He maintained his blank expression as he admitted the truth to her.

"I have never spoken to a woman with ill intention- neither do I flirt with anyone but you. I promise you, it hasn't happened, nor will it ever happen." his honest gaze confirmed the truth.

Zoya nibbled on her lower lip. "Why is everyone falling for you?" She accused- this time Zaib rolled his eyes.

"I don't know," he defensively told her. "I don't care if Mariah or Aliya like me. I care about you. Do you like me, Zoya?" He played it off.

She remained undefeated. "No, I don't. Can you let me watch tv!" She didn't fall for it. God, Zoya was learning his tactics day by day.

"Zoya," he rubbed his bearded cheek on her nose, which made her squeal annoyedly.

"You're going to give me an allergy!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "I'm trying to watch my favourite tv show." She stubbornly pushed him away.

"Tell me you're not mad at me anymore, and the TV is all yours," he challenged.

She glared at him. "I'm not forgiving you that easily," she stated as he sighed dramatically. "You'll never get to finish this episode then," he hummed ceremoniously.

Zoya rolled her eyes and stayed deadly silent for a minute. His head completely blocked her view, so she couldn't even sneak a peek from the TV. After a moment of consideration, a devilish smirk uplifted her lips.

"Will you do anything to be forgiven?"

"Anything."

The rest of the night, Zoya forced her husband to do all the girly things usually done at sleepovers. From wearing masks and coffee scrubs to braiding her hair into pigtails, Zaib unwillingly participated- all to earn her forgiveness. She enjoyed every bit of her husband's resolve, yet didn't tell him that her heart had already warmed up and forgiven him.

Late at night, the two cuddled up on the couch as they watched the remaining show together with glowing skin and beautiful hair.

"I'm never doing that again," he muttered bitterly, untangling his braided hair, which was hurting his scalp.

Zoya rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. "Drama queen."

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