Dua's anger could be described as an understatement to those unfamiliar with her emotions; it was more than fury—it was a tempest of emotions. The breach of trust by the one who vowed never to toy with her feelings, especially after the birth of their child, had thrown her into a storm. For two days, she endured his indifferent demeanor towards her, though not towards their children. But now, she decided it was time to shed her saintly demeanor and confront him about the deeds, or perhaps the lack thereof, that had sparked this tumult within her.

The night time was said to be the most liked time by Married couples but after getting his wife pregnant again, Arshad don't know if its still favourite or not. Dua is 5 month long and was extremely moody. She was pregnant two time's before but it was never that bad.

The allure of nighttime, often celebrated as the favored period for married couples, took on a different shade for Arshad in the wake of Dua's latest pregnancy. As she navigated her way through the fifth month, the rollercoaster of emotions became more pronounced than ever. While his love for her stood unwavering, a lingering sense of frustration loomed after the dramatic episode she orchestrated just two days ago.

Dua's emotional pendulum swung with a vigor that surpassed her previous pregnancies. Arshad, understanding the inherent challenges of pregnancy, found himself grappling with the intensity of her mood swings. The recent incident, where she unabashedly created a scene in front of family and their son, left him questioning the once-idyllic appeal of nighttime for married couples.

As he reflected on the situation, Arshad couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt. The embarrassment he experienced lingered, a stain on the canvas of their shared experiences. It was a perplexing juxtaposition—the anticipation of a new life blossoming within Dua and the strains on their marital harmony. Yet, amidst the complexity, his love for her remained steadfast.

Returning home after 9 PM, exhaustion draped over him, and the sole culprit for his fatigue was none other than his workaholic brother, Rayyan. Despite the temper softening a bit after marrying his sister, Rayyan remained steadfast in his dedication to work. As he stepped into the room, he found his wife perched on the bed, her adorable baby bump serving as a makeshift plate holder.

A noticeable absence of his son and brothers hinted that they were likely in their respective rooms. Following his son's transition to solitary slumber at the age of three, he and his wife embraced the solitude, carving out precious moments together amidst the demands of their busy lives.

"Aa gae ap," she questioned, to which he replied sarcastically, "Nhi. Raste mai hun," evoking a glare from her. However, she knew the glare could do little to sway him, as he found it more cute than threatening.

(You came)
(No, I am coming)

"Zada nhi bolen ap...mai wese naraz hum mujhe or naraz nhi karen. Bata rahi hun apne bete k pass jakar sojaungi mai," she threatened him. Arshad couldn't help but chuckle at his own joke.

(Do not speak much, I am already mad at you, I will go sleep in my son room if you didn't stop)

"Kyun has rahe hain itna?" Arshad just looked at her and went to the bathroom, casually ignoring her and unintentionally leaving her with teary eyes. Determined to express her discontent, she gazed at the closed bathroom door, pouting angrily. Unable to contain herself, she finally stood up and dramatically slammed the bathroom door open.

(Why are you laughing?)

Arshad flinched as he was about to shower, startled by the unexpected interruption. His wife's angry look and forceful push under the cold shower made it clear that this was no ordinary day. Dua, despite the winter chill in Lahore, had other plans.

Shivering, he looked at her, ready to protest, but realizing she was pregnant and angry, he decided to remain silent. As she walked out of the bathroom, he completed his shower with the icy water, shivering in the cold. Dua, still sitting on the bed, eyed him with a stern expression.

Sighing, he threw the towel towards the couch, but a single glare from Dua made him place it back in its rightful spot. Sitting beside her, he gently took her hand in his. "Meri jaan... gussa to mujhe hona chahiye tha... ap kyun hain," he softly asked, never willing to lose his temper on her.

(It should be me angry, why are you angry?

"Ap ne mujhe do din pehle kamre se nikal diya tha... kal bhi mai sofe par soya... Pata hai kitna embarrassed tha mai.. lekin mai nahi hua gussa lekin ap bataen ap kyun gussa." Dua, sniffing, responded, "A-ap ki galati t-thi... is nikala kamre se."

(You kicked me out, you made me sleep on sofa, I was so embarrassed but i didn't say anything but tell me, why are you angry?)
(It ...was your fault)

"Ap... mera shawarma khaa gaye the," she finally revealed the reason, and he couldn't help but smile at the small but significant cause. Arshad apologized, "I'll get you more... I promise, but now don't be naraz." She pouted, her eyes teary, and lips red.

(You ate my shwarma)

His gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips, and he gently claimed them with his, making her close her eyes and lose herself in the arms of her husband. Pulling away, she blushed, while he smiled. Holding her close, he laid on the bed, still smiling, with his heart and mind at peace and content.
__________

Radiant joy adorned Maha's face as she reveled in the triumph of her achievements. Scoring an impressive 90 out of 100 on her physics test had become a reality, a testament to the nights immersed in study, guided by the unwavering support of her dedicated husband, Rayyan.

The air carried the melodies of her laughter as she synchronized her steps with Hadia, sharing the elation of success. Their laughter, a harmonious echo, resonated through the entrance to the lawn. Maha, caught in the delightful rhythm, sauntered into the serene expanse of green, where sunlight danced among the leaves.

The familial embrace of her father and grandfather awaited her. A vivacious spirit radiated from her as she moved gracefully towards them, eager to share her accomplishments. With an exuberant voice, she proclaimed her well-deserved victory, the announcement embraced by the sunlit atmosphere of the familial sanctuary.

In this moment of bliss, her grandfather, her Dadajaan, bestowed upon her a heartfelt reward—a Karak note, a token of love and pride, adorned with the significant value of 5000. The tangible recognition of her efforts, coupled with the warmth of family, painted an aesthetic tableau of joy and success.

Embodied in a soft blush and a heart brimming with gratitude, Maha found herself in the kitchen, eager to express her appreciation to Rayyan in a distinctive manner. Deviating from the ordinary, she embarked on crafting a culinary masterpiece, guided by the rhythm of his taste buds.

Despite the unconventional choice of the day, Maha's hands gracefully orchestrated the creation of a tantalizing pulao and the aromatic dance of chapli kebabs. Each ingredient bore witness to her culinary prowess, weaving an aromatic symphony in the kitchen, destined to delight her husband's palate.

As fragrant spices intermingled with the warmth of cooking, Maha's heart swelled with contentment, a silent tribute to the love she poured into every dish. This gesture of preparing Rayyan's favorite meal transcended the ordinary, a culinary thanksgiving that sought to speak the unspoken words of gratitude and affection.

Immersed in the culinary symphony, Maha's mother observed her daughter's happiness with a heart full of gratitude. As the fragrant pulao took shape under Maha's skillful hands, a sense of fulfillment radiated through the kitchen, and her mother cherished the sight of Maha's joy in her married life.

As the clock ticked towards Rayyan's imminent return, Maha, ever mindful of time, delegated the frying task of the chapli kebabs to Hadia. With an amusing expression on her sister's face, Maha couldn't help but smile at her antics, knowing that culinary responsibilities weren't Hadia's forte.

With the savory aroma enveloping the kitchen, Maha swiftly moved towards her room to prepare for Rayyan's arrival. A speedy shower later, she adorned herself in a resplendent maroon frock adorned with golden gotta detailing and complemented by a delicate jhoomar on the dupatta. A touch of light makeup enhanced her natural grace, and the kangan from Rayyan, a symbol of love and affection, adorned her wrists like a radiant melody.

Her attire, chosen with care, echoed the love and anticipation she held for the evening, a silent expression of her joy and appreciation for the man she cherished.

Downstairs in haste, Maha joined Hadia and Dua, lending her assistance in setting the table. Dua, ever the mischievous sister, playfully bumped into her with a raised eyebrow and a sly smirk, coaxing a blush from Maha.

The family started to assemble, with Mahid and Mahad entering first, followed by Arshad. However, Rayyan's absence didn't go unnoticed. Frowning slightly, Maha directed her questioning gaze at her brothers, who assured her that he would come after a brief spell of frustration.

After a wait of around 10 minutes, everyone but Rayyan was seated at the dining table. His mother called out to him, inviting him to join for dinner, but he declined and headed towards his room. The atmosphere in the room shifted, a palpable sense of anticipation lingering as they awaited Rayyan's presence.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, and Maha stood up, politely asking the others to continue as she ventured inside to find Rayyan. He was already in the shower, so she patiently waited. When he emerged, she greeted him, "Assalamualaikum...Rayyan," but he ignored her, focusing on drying his hair with a towel. Pouting, she tapped on his shoulder, attempting to capture his attention. "Rayyan," she called once more, but his silence persisted.

"Rayyan, khana khane chale na," she tried again, now feeling the sting of his indifference. A cold reply met her ears, "Mujhe bhook nhi hai...tum jao." His dismissal left her hurt and disheartened.

(Lets go eat)
(I am not hungry)

Undeterred, she appealed to his appetite, "Maine apka favorite banaya hai...chalen na." He turned towards her, raising an eyebrow, "Maine kaha tha bananne ko." In disbelief, she nodded.

(I made your fav)
(Did I asked you to?)

"Then you can go," he declared, his tone icy.

Her hurt deepened, and she questioned, "Kya hua hai Rayyan...why are you behaving like this?"

(What happened?)

"Dekho Maha...mai bhot gusse mai hun...mujhe aj bhot lose hua hai company mai or uska gussa main nhi chahta tum par utaron to jao yahan se," he responded, this time with a slightly raised voice, as he immersed himself in his files and laptop.

(Look maha, I am very angry, I lost alot today and I dont wanna take my anger out on you)

Feeling the weight of his anger, Maha considered a way to lighten the mood. She decided to bring his dinner upstairs and share her good news. Carrying the food, she placed it on the table in front of him, but he continued to avoid eye contact. Holding her result, she was about to share it with him when his phone rang. He answered the call, and by the time he hung up, his mood had not improved.

"Rayyan...wo mera result," she cautiously extended her hand. Rayyan, already fuming with no outlet for his anger, glared at her and snatched the paper from her hand, tearing it into pieces. She stood there in shock, eyes wide.

(Rayyan, my result)

"JAB MAINE KAHA THA DIMAG KHARAB NA KARO TO KYUN ABHI TAK KHARI HO YAHAN MAHA!" he bellowed, his anger reverberating through the room. "NHI DEKHNA MUJHE KUCH CHALI JAO YAHAN SE."

(When I said, dont mess with my mind then why are you still here?)
(I dont wanna look, get lost)

Tears welled up in Maha's eyes. She looked at the torn pieces of her result and then at Rayyan, who was still seething. "A-ap n-ne d-dekha bbhi n-nhi...b-bhot gan-de hain ap...." she stammered, hurt evident in her voice.

(You didn't even see it, you are so bad)

"Maha...I'm saying you the last time to get lost before I fucking kick you out," he spat out angrily.

Hurt turned to anger, and she retorted, "ZADA NHI BOLEN AP RAYYAN...APNE DEKHA TAK NHI MERA RESULT...KITNI KHUSH THI MAI....AP KISI CHEEZ K LAIK NHI HAIN. APKO MERI KHUSHI BARDASHT NHI HOTI." Her words pierced the air as she confronted him.

(Dont speak too much, you didn't even see it and I was so excited, you are not deserving of anything)

"Agar lose bardasht nhi hota to kyun bane CEO... Kisi or mard ko dena tha. Jisko kam or biwi k beech ka farq pata ho." She continued with anger and hurt in her voice.

(If you cant bare the lose, then make a man CEO, the one who know about wife and work)

"Maha...fuzool nhi bolo or jao yahan se...or apna ye khana bhi lekar jao," he commanded, attempting to regain composure. Despite his words, she could sense the storm lingering beneath his surface.

(Get lost maha and take the food as well)

"Maine itni mehnat se khana banaya tha...apke lie...or ap ne dekha tak nhi...ap kabil hi nhi the k mai apke lie kuch karti...AGAR ITNI FUZOOL LAG RAHA HUN TO KYUN KI SHADI MUJH SE...CHALI JAUNGI TO WAPAS NHI AUNGI MAI RAYYAN... S-sari zindagi rote rahoge..."

(I worked so hard to cook for you, and you didn't even bother to notice. Maybe I'm not capable of doing anything for you. If it all seems so trivial, then why did you marry me, Rayyan? If I leave, I won't come back. You'll cry for the rest of your life...)

And that made him snap out of his anger. His wife was standing Infront of him, crying while he was still yelling at her. He looked at her crying figure going out of the room.

He sat on the sofa in a daze, with her and his words repeating in his mind. The aroma of the food, which was meant to bring joy, now suffocated him with regret. He opened the food container, but the once enticing fragrance now felt like a bitter reminder of his thoughtless anger. His favorite dishes lay untouched, a stark symbol of his misplaced rage.

He gazed at the papers scattered on the floor, her hard work torn to pieces. Guilt crept over him like a heavy shroud, realizing he had hurt the one who cared for him the most. In the silence that followed, he gathered the torn pieces of her achievement, desperate to undo the damage he had caused.

______

Maha laid on her old bed, the weight of his harsh words sinking into her heart. The tears streamed down her face, tracing the path of her shattered emotions. Every effort, every intention to please him seemed to crumble under the weight of his anger. The room echoed with her sobs, aching with the pain of a heartbroken wife who felt her efforts were never enough. In that moment, forgiveness seemed like a distant shore, and the waves of despair crashed over her, pulling her deeper into the sea of aching emotions.

The echoes of his hurtful words reverberated, leaving her wounded heart bruised and battered. As the tears continued to flow, a newfound strength flickered in her eyes – a determination not to forgive easily. It was the first time he had made her cry, and the fear that he might do it again gripped her. In the silent turmoil of her emotions, the decision to guard her heart from further pain was made, even as each tear seemed to carry away a piece of her trust in their fragile connection.

The door creaked open, revealing Rayyan's pained expression as he listened to the heartbreaking symphony of her sobs. With a heavy heart, he approached Maha, offering her the now crumpled and taped-together pieces of the paper that once held her achievements. "Congratulations, meri shehzadi...you did so good. I'm so proud of you," he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of remorse and love. However, Maha turned away, a wall of hurt erected between them.

(You did so well my love)

A deep sigh escaped Rayyan as he gently laid beside her, his arm instinctively finding its way around her waist, attempting to bridge the emotional chasm. The room echoed with the weight of unspoken words and shattered dreams. Though Maha wished to pull away, the ache in her heart tethered her to him, entangled in the complex web of love and pain. Each heartbeat seemed to resonate with the silent plea for healing, as they navigated the storm of emotions that threatened to tear them apart.

He turned Maha around, still holding her, their fronts pressed together. Gently wiping away her tears, he placed tender kisses on both her eyes. "Please, aindaa kahin jane ki baatein nahi karna...Maha, meri jaan nikal jati hai."

(Pleas dont talk about leaving, it kills me)

"Or meri jaan ka kya jo apko itne gusse mai dekh kar nikalti h?" she said, her voice interrupted by hiccups. "Main dar gayi thi...apko pata hai ap itne darawne lagte hain gusse mai...to kyun karte hain mere samne?" He bit his lips, repeatedly apologizing.

(What about my life that kills me seeing you angry?)
(Why do you vet angry Infront of me? I got scared)

"Nahi karungi maaf apko," she declared, and he sighed, acknowledging her decision. "Theek hai, meri jaan...but you know I'm sorry," he said, his voice now calm. Yet, the traces of tears in his eyes betrayed the depth of his regret. Her heart softened, torn between holding onto her anger and the genuine remorse in his eyes.

(I wont forgive you)

"Acha...kia maaf, but agar aise gussa kia...to main chali jaungi," she playfully pouted. He smiled brightly, ignoring the last part, not wanting to entertain the thought of her leaving.

(Okay you are forgiven, but if you ever did, I will leave)

Kissing her forehead and then her lips with all the fervor of reconciliation, their lips melded, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from her when he bit her tongue. "I love you," he whispered, both of them breathing heavily. "Then show me," she whispered back, reigniting the passionate connection between them. The storm of their emotions now transformed into a unique and intimate patch-up, a reminder of their love's resilience.

He breathed heavily before gently discarding both of their clothes, creating an intimate atmosphere. Diving between her thighs, she gasped loudly, holding his head. "Rayyan," she voiced out.

"Remove all your anger like this, my love...I would take it...always," sh whispered, feeling her nails scratching his back, his grip tightening as he groaned, passionately responding to his wife's desires.

"Feel how much I need you, Maha," he huskily murmured between kisses, his words sending shivers down her spine.

Showing no mercy, he moved with a raw intensity, a dance of emotions, careful not to hurt her. In that moment, all they cared about was losing themselves in the warm embrace of each other's arms.

"You look so beautiful, my love," he continued, his voice filled with desire and adoration, creating a symphony of passion.

"You're the melody to my chaos," he declared, intertwining their souls with the rhythmic dance of their bodies.

"Y-you st-still d-didn't eat the f-food," she reminded him, a gentle plea amidst their shared moments.

After the passionate interlude, Rayyan cleaned her up and draped her in his shirt. Returning with the food, he sat in front of her, feeding her the first spoon before they both indulged in the flavorful meal.

Moaning at the taste, despite it being cold, they relished the love infused into every bite. Maha smiled and kissed him on the cheeks, savoring the taste of togetherness.

"I love you, my maha," said Rayyan before they both drifted into a peaceful sleep after a night of emotional release and shared intimacy.

○●○

Soooo, it is finally completed.

Do tell me how you found the new version of Khan Villa?

Which one was better if you are rereading it?

Swear I have no energy left now; editing this book took my everything in me!