When everything else was falling apart, Shehryar gave Laila the job as his assistant. Now here they are months later in a very symbiotic and platonic relationship until Shehryar's past comes face to face and he swears to destroy everything from his...
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❝ghao tou apnon ke zyada chubte hai❞
The weeks between them were nothing but glorious. Their touch became familiar with each other's skin and Shehryar stood beside her like never before. Unknowingly he was sheltering her, and she couldn't be more thankful. He avoided anything to do with her project or what the board was saying. Yet, he discussed whatever new project came to his company and he valued her input.
They refused to turn on the news. Still, there was something missing within her. The emptiness of the day coiled around her like a silent tornado, wrapping her in despair. Her heart lurched to her throat every time she passed his home office or the files. She missed her space, her office, and the buzz of people around her. She missed Wajdan Enterprise. She missed her team. She missed her work.
She was fixing the drape of the white saree on her shoulder when he walked into the small room. His room in their parents' house held so many of their bittersweet memories. Her eyes softened at the sight of him. He had been running around making sure everything went perfectly for Hadiya's Nikah. In that run around he had forgotten to change and stood there with the oil-stained shirt. She shook her head. Though this version of Shehryar Ali was one of her absolute favorites. Absolutely unruly hair, the comfiest of clothes, black-framed glasses, and there was just something so raw about him whenever they went to Hasanabdal. As if he was free of all the torments of the city.
"You are going to look like that on your sister's special day?" Walking towards him, she shook her head forgetting all about her Saree. He shrugged his shoulders as his lips curved up. "Shehryar." She dragged him, pushing him towards the bathroom. "Your clothes are already ironed." Her forehead creased at the sight of the clock. "Hurry!" She threw him an incredulous look. "What am I gonna do with this man?" She mumbled as she went back to fixing her saree.
"Hey!"
"What is it, Mr. Ali?" She glanced his way with a defeated look. He was leaning against the door.
"You look beautiful." With a soft smile, he left to take shower.
For a second she stood there stunned and then broke into a peal of soft laughter—her stupid Husband. The smile didn't leave her lips even when he returned.
"Do I return the compliment because you look quite fine in this outfit, Ali Sir?" She whispered while buttoning up the white kurta. He laughed softly.
"Well if you don't want to, Miss Lubna, I'm sure one of my childhood admirers wouldn't mind." He arched his eyebrows and she calmly held the black waist coat.
"Zeher wala soup bnana mushkil nahi, woh bhi mirchi daal ke." She patted the crease away, fixing the coat in its place.
"Tumhare haathon se zeher bhi qubool hai, Begum Sahiba." She rolled her eyes at his words. He turned her around, making her sit on the stool in front of the dressing table.
