"God, I'm sweating so much." Shams gulped, patting the damp tissue on his forehead.
"Boy, you look like you're about to die," Ajay commented, getting out of the car. Atif and Wahi stood there, glancing at each other. 
"Chill out, Shams. You won't die." Kabir said. 
He got out after Shams, dusting his black sherwani. 

"I think they're already there, holding the gate," Atif said. 
"I swear... where's the other car?"
"They're here." Kabir gestured at the cars that lined behind them. Everyone got out, putting Shams at the front and made their way to the entrance. 

"There they are..." Ajay whispered, swallowing a lump in his throat. 
"Seems like your honey is going to cost a lot of money." Kabir tried not to laugh, watching the army of women awaiting them. 

Nisha prepared the plate with sweets and orange juice, standing at the front. 
"Ay! They're here!" Adisha spoke. 
Adil peeped his head between Nisha and Adisha, grinning at Soha who was walking beside Shams. She waved back, not quite returning the energy but Adil seemed content.

"Ah... what's with the gate holding now?" Atif asked. Nisha raised her brows, replying, "Do you need a historical explanation, Mr Atif?" 
"Of course he does. He's dumb." Wahi commented but got a smack in return from his side while laughter from the other. 
"What's up with that signboard?" Ajay laughed, pointing at Adisha holding a huge signboard that said, 'No Money No Honey', with Priti's face cutout plastered on the O of Honey. 

Nisha's eyes travelled from the groom to the one beside him. He was already staring at her, something intense igniting in his eyes.

She gave him a small smile, feeling her heart thumping loudly in her chest. He looked drop-dead gorgeous. Handsome was an understatement. 
At a time, she wondered why Bengali men thought wearing black would make them look hot. She had underestimated the hotness of Bengali men all her life until she saw him. 

When she thought her standards were too high and no one was ever physically appealing enough to interest her, she had been wrong.

Kabir Zaid proved her so wrong that she could cry about it. He looked hot in that black sherwani.

More than hot.

He was a burning fire that blazed so fine, the entire room could be dismissed. And the fact she used to find clean shaved beards weird until she saw him.
How come he was the living resistance to every prejudice she carried?

The realization was ringing in her brain so intensely, that she felt disconcerted.

His gaze travelled from her head to toe, the way it did every time he saw her. 

"Okay, how much do you want?" Atif asked as Shams gave Nisha an innocent smile. She forcefully moved her eyes from Kabir to Shams and gave them a tight smile, "Of course. Not too much, considering we love Shams a lot."
"And how much is your 'not too much'?" Ajay asked. She gave them a cheeky smile, "Twenty thousand taka only." 
"What the hell—" Atif was about to speak but Wahi smacked him, indicating the elders standing behind them.

"And why should we fulfil the demand?" Kabir asked, confidence lacing his voice. She glanced at him, the restrain leaving her soul.
"To enter through the gate, of course." One of their cousins said. He snickered, "That's too much. We'll give exactly two thousand—"
He got pushed aside by Shams who whispered something into his ears. Nisha held in her laughter, watching him get scolded. 
"Shams! You say, do you want your honey or your money?" She asked, raising her brows.

"He wants both!" Ajay replied as the girls on the bride's side all made noise together. 
"Sorry to say but it's either honey or money," She bravely replied, glancing at the plate in her hand. Shams sighed, "I'd give the money and get my honey but these donkeys aren't letting me." 
"Woah!!" The bride's side again synced. 

"Shut up!" Atif scolded Shams who rolled his eyes. 
One of Nisha's cousins spoke, "See, if the groom wants his honey, why are you not letting him give us the money?" 
"Can we stop this honey-money tongue twister first?" Kabir asked, giving them a confused look. The right corner of Nisha's lips inched up as she continued, "Now since you all are going crazy, we can give you a small discount. Nineteen thousand nine hundred fifty takas." 

"Are they kidding right now?" Atif groaned. 
"Just give it to them. You can't even argue." Shams's mother sighed, watching the lousy males try to come up with comebacks. 
"Time's ticking. Quick quick!" Nisha tilted her head with a wicked smile. 
"Kabir, should we just give them the money? They reduced fifty taka." 
"Make it five thousand," Kabir spoke, avoiding Atif's whisper.

"Why should we?" Nisha arched a brow at him. He gave her a look, "If you don't agree, then the bride can sit there all she wants. We'll return!" 
She frowned, "That's the worst defence I've ever heard." 
He shrugged as Shams sighed, "Shut him up. Why is he arguing with them?" 
"I'm saving your money," Kabir whispered back. Shams scoffed, "You do anything but that." 

"Listen, we made ourselves clear. Either you give the money or go home without any honey!" Nisha gave him a sweet smile that irked him. He rolled his eyes at her and the next thing they knew,

they all were in a debate.

While the elders were enjoying the drama—some suggesting to stop—the youngsters were having the debate of their lives. At last, they agreed on eight thousand takas and once Shams handed it to Nisha, everyone cheered together.

The males stood there disappointed. Nisha smirked, "No honey is got with two thousand, Mr Kabir." 
He stared at her, tilting his head in amusement. 

She fed a sweet to Shams and served him a glass of juice. He was too hesitant to drink the juice properly.
"You got the pass, welcome in dulabhai!" 

Dulabhai.

Brother-in-law.

Oh, Shams seemed to love the name a lot because he grinned hearing it. 

The girls escorted him inside along with the elders as Nisha stood there, smiling widely. Her brows furrowed when one male from the groom's side did not enter with them. 
"Kabir?" She asked, tentatively meeting those blazing eyes. He smiled down at her, "No heel today?"
"Shut up. I have heels." 
He hummed, standing close to her. He took a sweet from the plate and popped it into his mouth, "Hey! That's kalo jam for..." 
"Shams left, already."
"Not him. For me." 

Kabir's eyes widened as he held his mouth. His face filled with guilt as he swallowed, coughing, "I'm so sorry! Oh my— I'll get you a whole box of it the next time we meet."
"Thank you, I'd be grateful. But it's fine for now. We have a box full of it there." She pointed towards the gift table. His eyes jumped from the box of sweets to Nisha's blank face.
"Then why did you say it out like that? I thought you were about to cry." 

She gave him a speechless look, sighing. 
"I don't know." 
He shifted closer to her, making her back away. He looked around as she whispered, "Can you move away? I get it, we're kind of relatives. But... the aunties there love to make up tea and deliver it to my mother." 
His gaze fell on her, "Tea? What kind of tea?" 

She could see a soft smirk form on his lips and it was confusing. Did he seriously enjoy that?

"Do you think it's funny?" She asked. He gave her a soft smile, his eyes taking in her face so obviously, that she had to look down so he wouldn't know the impact he had on her. 
"It's entertaining." He leaned down, coming face-to-face. Her lashes raised, giving her a view of his face. 

That smile was beautiful, she'd say.

She smiled back slightly, losing control of herself.
"Shut up, it isn't." She spoke in a low voice. 

He nodded, the smile still evident on his face — making her wonder why it was okay for them to be so close. It felt right in a way.

In South Asian countries, there was always a visible boundary between men and women. Although the influence of Western culture and education facilities had broadened people's thinking, there was an essence of reservation among people. And that was the sole reason Nisha's mother did not like her getting close to males who weren't exactly her relatives. Because Kabir was anything but her relative and that was as clear as water.

Yet, she didn't mind his closure. If it was another man, she'd probably find it awkward or uncomfortable. But Kabir didn't feel that way at all. 
He seemed trustworthy.

She was nervous and her palms sweat but she didn't mind him being close or playing around with her. 

He noticed her pensive face and tilted his lips slightly downward. Raising his hand, he delicately pinched her cheeks, "Where's your mind at, Nisha?" 
She audibly gasped at his action, frowning deeply at him. Her head turned to both sides, cautious about the presence of people. 
"No one saw." He spoke, trying not to chuckle. 
"Why would you—"
"Why are you scared of people seeing, Nisha? I only pinched your nose. We can do that." He spoke, his eyes staring deeply into hers. Why did he always try to initiate eye contact with her? She'd never know.

She fisted her dupatta in her palm, watching him back away in the most relaxed way ever. 

They could do that? 

Then what could they not do? She wondered.

And a long list flashed in her mind but she shrugged those thoughts off, hearing her mother call.
"See you later, then. Bye." She spoke, rushing away quickly as he watched her leave. 

The floral whiff of her hair never failed to make him feel some sort of way. 
"She's inexplicably interesting." He muttered to himself, letting a smile adorn his face when she glanced back at him, looking away almost immediately.

She was shy, it showed.

And he loved it.

In a jiffy, both Priti and Shams were kept on different sofas far from each other, signing the marriage contracts. 
Everyone prayed together as the Nikah registrar asked, "Do you accept the marriage, Ms Priti Anwar?" 
Priti looked down, shedding a tear and continued, "I... do." 
She signed the marriage papers.

Nisha watched her sister affectionately, her eyes becoming tears. Priti looked up, meeting her eyes as the younger one smiled.

The Nikah registrar went to Shams and asked, "Do you accept the marriage, Mr Shams Chowdhury?" 
Shams took a deep breath, "I do." 
He signed the papers with a soft smile. Kabir patted his back with a smile.

The elders shared respectful greetings after that as Nisha wiped her tears.
"Shams is crying!" Adil whispered to Nisha, making her gasp. She saw Shams walk up to another corner as he was wiping his tears. 
"I'm so glad this went well..." She spoke to herself. 
"I know right? I feel like crying with Shams." A male voice spoke, making her flinch. 
"Stop appearing out of nowhere. It's creepy." She said as he smiled, staring at her. His eyes scanned her face, "You're crying." 
"I wasn't... it was just an emotional tear." She spoke, looking away from his gaze. 

He hummed deeply, "Their love is successful." 
"It's beautiful." She replied. 
"Do you think everyone gets a love story like theirs?" His question made her sad. Because she was sure she wouldn't get one. 
"I don't think they do. That one's... a big blessing. And here, most people just get involved in arranged marriages. And most people probably don't even love each other. Priti and Shams happen to be one of those exceptions." Kabir watched her eyes glisten as she spoke about it. He smiled slightly, "I'm sure you'll get one story like that too." 

"Worry about yours, Mr Kabir." She spoke, glancing at him. He smiled slightly, "I am..."
"Really? What do you plan for yours? A pretty American girl?" She earned a scoff from him at that question.
"Stereotypical, are you? I'm not into foreign girls at all." 
"Call me stereotypical but can't trust that." She shook her head.

He tilted his body, leaning closer to her and spoke in a low voice, "I used to think I was into foreign girls, that's why no Bengali woman appealed to me. But the truth is, I'm more into desi women than anything. They drive me crazy." 
She clasped her palm to her mouth, eyeing him strangely as he turned towards her.

A frown coated his face, "What's with that look?" 
"You're a... pervert." She made a twisted expression, walking away. His mouth opened wide as he stared at her back, "Hey! Stop! I didn't mean it that way—"

He was about to stop her but turned his head to see Adil staring at him. 
"Seriously? That's worse than how I tried to flirt with Soha?" Kabir stared at the twelve-year-old, his throat working. 
"I wasn't flirting with her— Wait, you flirted with Soha?!" 

Adil pressed his lips, shrugging as Kabir gasped.
"You, kiddo. Spill the beans!"
"So do you." 

———

"Stop giving me looks, Nisha." Kabir mouthed to her from a few feet apart. She eyed him with raised brows, "Okay, pervert."
He ran his palm on his face, making her snicker at his desperate figure. 

Suddenly, he strode towards her, "I swear Nisha—"
"Ah! Kabir!" Both their heads turned in the direction of the voice to see Kabir's mother approaching them.
The other one gave her a kind smile, "Hello, Aunty!"
"Hello, dear!" She returned her smile and looked at Kabir, a frown shaping her face. 
"I've been calling you for so long. Where even are you?" She asked frustrated as her son looked around, not knowing how to reply. 

"Um, Maa... I was busy taking care of the guests." He lied, glancing at Nisha who gave him a knowing smile. 
He was busy following her the entire time. 
"Where? I did not see you around." She frowned, glancing at Nisha and then at her son.
"Were you both together?"

"No!" Nisha shook her head immediately, making Kabir eye her. 
"Oh? Strange... stop disappearing, you moron! There's so much work for the wedding. Save Shams's shoes at least." 
She spoke, looking at Nisha who laughed, "Thank you for that, aunty. Otherwise, it'd be too easy to steal his shoes." 

She smiled, "You look really pretty by the way."
"Thank you," Nisha spoke, her cheeks heating up. Kabir's mother patted her head once and walked away, giving Kabir a judgemental side-eye. 
"She hates you..." Nisha whispered to Kabir, staring at his mother's faraway figure. 
"Excuse me?"
"Honestly, if I had a son like you, I'd hate him too... so never mind."

"Nisha Anwar—" Kabir gasped as she ran away quickly, her giggles fading away. He let out an airy laugh, shaking his head. 

Either way, he wasn't lying when he said desi girls drove him crazy. Or, correction, one particular desi girl drove him crazy.

Which was her.

She drove him crazy.