The lights shimmered across the grand hall, where every inch of space had been transformed into a dreamy haze of stardust and fairy lights. The Starry Ties Gala was more than just another awards night-it was a celebration of love, chemistry, and moments that made screens sizzle and hearts flutter.
The entire industry was here. Ramsha and Ahad had been inseparable the whole night, posing together with effortless grace. Dananeer and Khushal were all laughs and little moments-her fixing his collar, him holding her hand as they walked to the stage. Hashtags for each onscreen pair had been trending all evening.
Except one. SEHZA.
Sehar adjusted the sleeve of her glittering navy gown, her eyes scanning the ballroom as if looking for an escape. Her signature soft curls were perfectly pinned to one side, diamond earrings glinting with every movement. Her fans called her queen for a reason.
Beside her, Hamza looked just as composed-black tuxedo, ruffled hair, smile that always seemed like it was hiding a secret. They had walked the carpet together, sure. But that was it. No Instagram story. No behind-the-scenes reels. Not even a glance exchanged that fans could cling to.
It was happening again. Just like the 20th HUM Anniversary. Silence where there should have been fireworks.
"Tum thak gayi ho?" Hamza asked, voice low so only she could hear.
Sehar gave him a smile-small, polite. "Bas... log dekh rahe hain."
He chuckled softly. "Kab nahi dekhte?"
But there was no warmth in her laugh. Just a pause, stretched too long to be comfortable.
The host's voice echoed through the venue. "And now... something special to close the night! Let's bring up our favorite pairs for a final moment together!"
The lights dimmed, music started to play-a soft instrumental mashup of love songs from the dramas that had ruled TRPs.
Ramsha pulled Ahad toward the stage, spinning dramatically before resting her head on his shoulder. The crowd cheered.
Dananeer leaned her head on Khushal's shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Cameras flashed.
Another couple did a small choreographed step from their iconic dance scene. It was cheesy, dramatic-and loved by all.
And then... nothing.
All eyes turned.
SEHZA.
Still seated. Still apart.
Fans murmured. Then louder.
"SEHZA ne kuch kiya hi nahi!"
"Yeh kya? Itna bhi meesna nahi hona chiye?"
"Ek hug tou banta hai naa!"
The clamor grew. Phones were lifted, screens turned toward them.
Hamza leaned forward slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're not wrong."
Sehar exhaled slowly, her fingers twisting the ring she wore. Something tightened in her chest-not guilt, exactly. Not fear. Just... vulnerability. The kind she'd trained herself to keep off-camera.
She looked at him.
He looked back.
And then, without warning, she stood up.
Gasps. Whispers. Phones clicked to record.
She walked slowly, deliberately, toward him. Her gown trailed behind her like midnight silk, her heels echoing in the otherwise silent hall.
Hamza stood up too, startled. But he didn't move.
She stopped right in front of him. Close. Closer than they had been all evening.
