Zain, and his mother's scenes are minimum coz we got enough of them in the drama 😤 btw I didn't watch the last episodes, so I wouldn't hate that dramaqueen more than I already hate him.

___
The air around the dinner table was thick - not with the aroma of the food, but with a man.

Shahnawaz Shah.

People were hungry for food, its aroma making them drool. But he was hungry for her. His eyes darted to Mehrunisa at every chance, like a predator circling its prey.

She sat beside him, her delicate fingers wrapping around her glass, the movement slow, deliberate, as though she knew he was watching. Her skin glowed under the soft lighting, the curve of her neck tempting him with the idea of feeling his lips there. He could already imagine the taste of her - sweet, intoxicating, like everything that was forbidden.

She was forbidden for him.

If he had her, he would lose in this game of love.

His eyes roamed over her, tracing the line of her collarbone, the way the fabric of her dress clung to her curves, every movement she made making his pulse race. The slight shift of her shoulders, the delicate sway of her hair, everything about her was a tease, a promise he couldn't ignore. His breath hitched as her hand lifted, reaching for something across the table. Her fingers—slender and graceful—brushed against the rim of the glass, and for a split second, he imagined those fingers trailing along his cock instead.

God, how badly he wanted her.

He wanted to lay her bare on the table, strip away the layers that separated them, and feel her skin against his. The idea of her, exposed and vulnerable beneath him, consumed him. The image burned in his mind- her body yielding to him, every inch of her his to claim. He could almost hear the soft moan she would make when he pressed himself into her, the thought making his blood boil with desire.

She wouldn't resist. She couldn't. 

Shahnawaz clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep himself under control. His thoughts were dangerous, spiraling out of control. His gaze flicked back to her, watching as she took a sip from her glass, her lips parting ever so slightly as she did. The delicate curve of her mouth taunted him, sending a rush of heat to his groin. He wanted to devour her in that very moment, taste her lips, feel her soft body pressed against his.

But he couldn't. 

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with the knife Saman Shah was slicing her apples with. Every glance Mehrunissa threw his way, only made him want to grab her, pull her into his arms, and lose himself inside her softness.

He would have her. He had to. And when he did, it would be more than just a meal. It would be a goddamn feast.

She was unbothered, or at least pretended to be, casually serving herself food, her damp hair brushing against her shoulders, and that faint, maddening scent of her shampoo still lingering in the air like a drug he couldn't get enough of.

It was driving him insane.

His brown eyes followed her every movement, tracing the curve of her wrist as she lifted the spoon to serve herself. That tiny, delicate motion made his pulse quicken. Her graceful fingers, so effortlessly beautiful, sent an electric jolt through him. His gaze locked with hers for just a microsecond, and in that fleeting moment, she looked at him-not out of interest, not out of desire-but with a calm indifference that burned him to the core.

She didn't even look at me properly.

How dare she?

He couldn't tear his eyes away as she moved with that graceful, unaware sensuality, every motion of hers a cruel, teasing reminder of what he craved, what he needed. She was close enough to drive him insane, but just far enough to make him feel the ache of hunger deep in his gut.

And every time she brushed past him, every time their skin brushed ever so briefly, it was like a jolt of electricity. The fire inside him burned hotter, fiercer. He wanted to reach out, pull her in, claim her, but he had to bide his time.

Soon.

Soon, she'd have no choice but to give in.

But she didn't even notice him, not really. She was so damn calm, so damn indifferent, and it drove him crazy. How could she remain so unaffected?

When she reached for the salt, and her fingers accidentally brushed his. A spark shot through him, igniting a fire he'd barely managed to keep in check since he saw her earlier. His grip on the fork tightened as he stabbed his chicken, the sound loud enough to catch Saman's attention.

"Shahnawaz? Sab theek hai? Tumhe kuch chahiye" Saman asked, her sharp gaze narrowing on him.

Ji.. mujhe Mehru chahiye

He wanted to say...

Mehrunisa glanced up with a slow smile. She had amped up the spice levels in Shahnawaz and Zain's food. No wonder he was so bothered through out the dinner.

Picking up a red chili from her plate, she bit into it, her pink lips parting slightly. "Lagta hai Shah ko mirchi lag gayi," she quipped, her tone teasing, but her eyes mocking him.

She was deliciously tempting...

He wanted to kiss those pink lips till they swelled. 

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as his gaze locked on her mouth. Those lips—soft, pink, glistening—mocked him with every move. He could feel his control slipping, his thoughts straying into dangerous territory as he imagined them on him, wrapping around his length. Have her choke on it.

The servant placed a glass of water next to him, but even that didn't help.

Shahnawaz clenched his jaw, the fork still in his hand, the metal biting into his skin. His eyes never left her. Every time she moved, every time she reached for something, his body tensed, a part of him aching to have her underneath him.

He couldn't tear his eyes away as she moved with that graceful, unaware sensuality, every motion of hers a cruel, teasing reminder of what he craved, what he needed. She was close enough to drive him insane, but just far enough to make him feel deep ache in his gut. ache

Water couldn't quench his thirst. Only she could.

Zain was hesitating to eat, Mehrunisa noticed and smiled sweetly at Zain, her voice as soft as silk. "Darro mat, Zain. Zeher nahi hai khane mein. Tumhare liye khaas banaya hai maine.. you remind me so much of my own brother"

Her words were meant to comfort, but when her gaze flickered toward Shahnawaz, it was like she was pouring gasoline on his already burning rage. His jaw tightened, his grip on the table firm, but all of it snapped when her soft cotton pajama brushed against his thigh under the table.

The contact was innocent—she wasn't even aware—but it drove him mad. Without thinking, his hand moved under the table and rested on her thigh.

Her body went rigid instantly, but she didn't look at him, not immediately. Instead, she continued eating, her calm demeanor betraying none of the chaos he knew she felt.

When she finally turned to him, her eyes were sharp, her voice louder than necessary. "Kya hua, Shahnawaz? Kuch chahiye tha?"

Her tone was mocking, trying to corner him, but he didn't flinch. Instead, his lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk. He leaned closer, his voice low and rough, meant only for her ears. "Tum."

She inhaled sharply, but before she could respond, he sat back, casually taking a bite of his food. As he chewed, his tongue flicked out to catch a drop of sauce, the gesture deliberate and slow, all while his eyes stayed locked on hers. "Roz khaana banaya karo," he added, his voice drenched in unspoken meanings.

His hand lingered a moment longer on her thigh, his fingers grazing the fabric in a way that left a trail of heat burning into her skin. Then, he finally pulled back, but not without letting his touch sear into her memory.

Mehrunisa tried to focus on her plate, but her heart hammered against her ribs. Her entire body was on high alert, every nerve awakened by his boldness. Her cheeks warmed, and she cursed herself for letting him affect her, but her skin still tingled where his hand had been.

Shahnawaz watched her with hooded eyes, his own breathing uneven. The tension between them was unbearable, suffocating, but he didn't want it to end. Not yet. Not when she looked like this—flustered, fiery, and barely holding herself together.

His need for her was raw, consuming. He wanted to push her further, see her snap, but for now, he smirked and let her simmer, his mind already plotting the next time he could push her past the edge and have her on this very table.

___

Saman and Zain both sat besid each other, "Why is that woman still in our house mom?"

Saman cooed at him, "Sabar kar beta..." she turned to the servant. 

"Shahnawaz ko bulao."

Shahnawaz slowly entered the room.

He sat down on the chair, as Saman showed him the necklace, "Mujhe boli iska patta banado aur Zain ko pehnado".

"Dikhayein", Shahnawaz asked her for the necklace, looking at the necklace he brought it to Zain, "Actually not a bad idea, pehnadein."

Saman's eyes widened at his tone, as Zain confronted his brother, "Aap pehen le, biwi ke paltu ban gaye hai."

"Zain! Maafi maango. Tumhare liye Shahnawaz ne itni badi qurbaani di... apni chahat ka qatal karke us ladki se shaadi ki."

Saman managed to calm down Zain, pacifying him as Shahnawaz sighed, "Maine kaha tha uska reaction accha nahi hoga. Zain mera bhai hai aapka beta hai magar uske bhai ka qatil hai."

Saman was pissed, "Maafinamey par ab dastakhat hogayi hai. Ab uski badtameezi nahi jhelungi, aur Shahnawaz tumhari biwi hai. Usse theek karo tum.'

Zain chipped in, "Mai toh kehta hu, talaq dekar ghar se nikaldey usse."

"We can't control her, usko azaad chod diya toh apne per par kulhadi marna hoga. Samjhey iss baat ko," Shahnawaz couldn't let her go.

"Kab tak jhelna hoga uss musibat ko phir?"

"Zindagi bhar."

___

The slap still echoed in Shahnawaz's ear as he grabbed Mehrunisa's elbow, his grip firm and unrelenting. Her anger only fueled the madness inside him, the very thing he craved.

Not her respect.

Not her love- just her fire.

Her defiance, her refusal to bow to him, it made him want her more, made him need to see her break.

"Shahnawaz, chhodo mujhe," she snapped, glaring at him. But he didn't let go. He wanted it, her anger, her fury. It was the only thing that made him feel alive. He didn't care if it was directed at him; at least it was for him.

He needed it to be for him.

Without a word, he dragged her down the hall into their room, slamming the door shut behind them. The sound of it was deafening, vibrating through his chest like a drumbeat. Her sharp inhale, her flinch, only made his pulse quicken.

She was frightened.

Good. She should be.

"Shahnawaz, peeche hato!" she commanded, but her voice was shaky, betrayed by the panic she tried to hide. "Warna tumhare gaal par bhi thappad padega!"

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. His arms came up on either side of her, caging her in. There was no escape. Not now, not ever.

"Maaroo," he growled, his voice low, vibrating against her skin. The words spilled out of him like poison. "Maar sakti ho mujhe, tumhe haq hai, Mehru. Magar mere bhai par haath uthaaya toh mujhse bura koi nahi hoga. Samjhi?"

He said taking her hand in his.

She thought he would twist it, but he brought it to his lips. Kissing it.

His eyes never leaving hers. He was kissing the hand that slapped his brother.

What was wrong with this man?

His words - heavy, suffocating - pressed down on her, but it was the storm in his eyes that made her breath hitch. He was fighting something inside him, something raw and primal, and yet it only made him more dangerous.

Her defiance didn't waver. She shot back, her voice sharp and biting, but beneath it, he heard the tremble. "Tum Zain ko bacha sakte ho, magar mujhse chupakar nahi rakh sakte."

His jaw tightened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. How dare she? How dare she still stand against him?

How dare she take another man's name when she was in his arms?

"Why is it always Zain?" he snarled, his voice rising in frustration. "Tumhara saara dhyan Zain par kyun hai? Main yahan hoon, Mehrunisa! Tumhara gussa, tumhari nafrat, tumhare aansoo... sab mujhe chahiye! Bas mujhe!"

He was losing himself.

No, he had already lost himself. It wasn't just control anymore.

It was possession. He needed her.

Needed her hate.

Needed her pain.

Needed to break her, so she would belong only to him, so no one else could ever touch her. So she could never touch anyone else.

But even as he said it, his mind screamed in denial. He wasn't supposed to want her this way. But that feeling, that fire inside him, it wouldn't let him go.

He stepped even closer, his breath hot against her skin. "I know what you're thinking, Mehrunisa. Let's play this fool."

His hands trembled slightly, his grip tightening around her wrist as he looked down at her lips - her defiant, trembling pink lips. He wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her.

"Why won't you admit it, Mehrunisa?" he whispered, voice rough, eyes locked onto hers, burning with the intensity of his desire. "That you want me. That you need me. You think you can fight it, but deep down, you know you belong to me."

And just as quickly, he took a step back, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. "I'll make you see it. I'll make you feel it. Every part of you will scream for me, 'Shahnawaz' 'Shahnawaz' you will beg me for more."

Before she could respond, his hand moved to her hair, threading through the soft strands at the back of her head. He gripped it tightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to force her to look at him, their faces inches apart.

His eyes flickered down to her lips for the briefest second before crashing his mouth onto hers. The kiss was not gentle or sweet; it was fiery, punishing, and raw. His lips pressed against hers with an urgency that left her breathless, demanding and taking all at once.

Her hands came up to his chest, trying to push him away, but he didn't budge. Instead, his other hand slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard planes of his body against hers, his heat searing through the thin fabric of her clothes. Her resistance wavered for just a second—too close, too intimate, too consuming—but she didn't let it show. Not yet.

"Stop..." she gasped, but her voice faltered as his lips moved against hers, coaxing a response from her. His fingers tightened in her hair, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss, forcing her to surrender to the storm of sensations flooding her body.

His other hand slid down her waist, his thumb brushing the curve of her hip. The touch was possessive, demanding, and it made her stomach twist with an unfamiliar hunger. She wanted to pull away, to slap him, to scream—but her body betrayed her. Her hands, once pushing him away, now clung to his chest, as if to ground herself in the madness of it all.

The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of anger, frustration, and a deep, possessive need that she couldn't ignore. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her senses overwhelmed by his closeness, his scent, his touch. His mouth, relentless and unyielding, claimed her like it was the only thing that mattered.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against hers. His hand still held her hair, while his other hand remained on her waist, anchoring her to him. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her pulse racing, the electric tension between them thick in the air.

"Samjhi tum?" he whispered, his voice hoarse but steady, laced with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Tum meri ho, Mehru. Tumhari nafrat bhi mujhe chahiye, tumhara gussa bhi. Tumhare har jazbaat par sirf mera hi Iqtidar hai..."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. Her voice trembled, but her words were steady. "Tumhe marne ka ikhtiyaar hai mujhe?"

His lips twisted into a bitter, almost predatory smirk, but his eyes, dark with unspoken desire, betrayed a flicker of something deeper. "Sirf tumhe hai." His gaze dropped to her trembling lips, thoughts swirling as his voice dipped dangerously low. "Tumhara har raasta mujh tak aana chahiye, Mehrunisa. Chahe woh nafrat ka hi ho."

Her eyes were blazing with fury, but he could see the way her chest rose and fell, her breath hitching, betraying the effect he had on her. He could feel the heat between them, the tension thickening with every passing second.

She shoved him away, her body trembling with rage, but he couldn't help but savor the feeling of her proximity—the way she clung to him even in her anger. His mind spiraled, his thoughts filthy, shameless. He imagined her resistance slipping away, her defiance melting as he pressed her harder against him, forcing her to give in. She'll beg me, one day, he thought, She'll crave this as much as I do.

"Shahnawaz," she spat, her voice sharp like a blade, yet it sent a thrill through him. "Tum meri zindagi ka woh sabak ho jo main dobara nahi padhna chahti."

He watched her walk away, each step like a slow torture. Her back straight, her head held high—it only made the ache in him worse. He felt his grip on his own control slipping, the desire to drag her back to him growing unbearable. She doesn't know it yet, he thought, but I own her. Every bit of that fire, that defiance... it belongs to me.

His jaw clenched, his body tense, eyes never leaving her as she walked away, his mind clouded with filthy, possessive thoughts. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her go, feeling the pull, the need to crush her spirit, and yet... make her crave him more. I'll make you mine, Mehrunisa. You'll hate me for it... but you won't be able to stay away.

___