chapter dedicated toooo oh_she_reads & @areebaaw mannnnn you two! and your comments make me giggle so bad!!!! thank you soooo soooo much for making me laugh literally all the goddamn time! You make me fangirl over my characters lmaooo!!

: aankhein humein yeh raas aa gayi, ab hum yaha se jaaein kahan?

-•❅•-

-•❅•-

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 11 : a slip and a grip

Shehryar's hands gripped the steering wheel with ease, his long fingers wrapped around the leather with a kind of casual authority that made me blush before I could even stop myself. 

The way his fingers tapped rhythmically as he drove, the veins that stretched under his skin—steady, calm, and composed, suddenly seemed to have a sense of grip around me in ways I couldn't quite put a finger on.

There was something about the way he drove that made my heart flutter, something about how his veins bulged at the back of his palm disappearing towards his forearm, something about how he never failed to wear that wedding band proudly around his finger that sent waves of warmth up my neck and into my cheeks.

I tried to glance away in an attempt to distract myself, trying my best to shift my focus away from his fingers,his hand, away from him, but at the back of my mind, I knew I couldn't help but wander to what had just happened before we left the house.

-flashback-

The lights flickered back on, and my immediate reaction was to shove Shehryar out of the room.

Don't ask why.

"Go, try the Coke floats in the refrigerator!" I said hurriedly, not even bothering to wait for his response. He gave me one of those looks, one brow slightly arched as if questioning my sudden burst of energy. But I didn't let him say anything as I pushed him out and slammed the door behind him, already feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

I leaned against the door for a second, catching my breath. 

"You won't have to find out."

What's that supposed to mean??

It was like I couldn't think straight around him these days. Everything about Shehryar—from his intense gaze to his words, even his mere presence—left me a flustered mess! 

With a shake of my head, I cleared my head and pushed away the butterflies that threatened to take over and forced myself to focus on getting ready.

I didn't want us to be late, especially because of me.

I rushed to the mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't have much time if we were going to make it to the event on time. Grabbing my makeup bag, I started applying a nude base to my face, keeping it minimal yet elegant, but with glossy lips that added a little extra something. I straightened my hair, letting it fall in sleek waves over my shoulders, the dark strands framing my face.

Adding in a few accessories: a pair of delicate earrings that dangled below my earlobes, a sleek wristwatch, and a few rings that glinted subtly as I slipped them onto my fingers beside my wedding band. I was finally done, I took a step back and looked at myself in the mirror.

For the first time in a long while, I genuinely loved what I saw. The bottle-green fabric hugged my curves in just the right way, accentuating my figure without feeling overdone. 

I looked at my arms. Thank god. 

If you know, you know. 

The saree shimmered softly under the light, the pleats falling perfectly in place. A small smile tugged at my lips, a rare moment of confidence washing over me. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would go smoothly after all.

Unlocking the door, I finally stepped out feeling the gentle pressure of the saree's pleats as they swayed with my every step, while I slowly descended down the stairs my heels surprisingly not making much sound against the cool marble. 

It was probably because I was walking slower than a turtle but nevermind.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I reached the bottom of the stairs. The house was mostly quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen. I glanced at the table near the entrance, where Shehryar's wallet, car keys, and phone lay neatly stacked one atop the other—something I believe was probably his small ritual of order before leaving the house. He always had to have everything ready, like a man preparing for battle.

Now where is he though?

I lingered by the table for a moment, my fingers brushing over the cool metal of his car keys before a faint shuffle from the kitchen pulled me from my thoughts. I turned and made my way towards the sound, the soft click of my heels the only noise breaking the silence that surrouned us.

I caught sight of him, as I neared the kitchen doorway, there he was, standing with his back to me, the soft overhead light casting a gentle glow around his figure. He was closing the refrigerator door, his hand wrapped around a Coke float inspecting it all around with all his focus as he slowly, too slowly brought it to his lips for a sip.

A smile immediately drew across my face as I stopped just short of entering the kitchen, leaning against the doorway for a brief second to take in the scene. 

He was unaware of my presence, at ease, completely lost in his own world. It was rare to catch Shehryar like this, so unguarded. 

Usually, he was always a step ahead, always alert and ready, especially when it came to me.

Like... I don't know. Like I could hurt him? 

"Sher?" 

Without thinking, the name slipped out of my mouth like a secret finally being spoken aloud.

The sound of his name on my lips surprised even me. It was soft, almost hesitant, but the moment it left my mouth, it felt natural, like I had been calling him that forever.

At the sound of my voice, Shehryar's head snapped toward me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a sharp intensity that made my breath hitch. His reaction was immediate—like the sound of my voice had triggered something in him and it made me question.

Was he always this attentive towards me?

For a split second, the air between us thickened, and I felt as if the ground beneath my feet had shifted. 

The space was no longer just a kitchen; it was charged with something I couldn't quite explain. 

His gaze. There was something different about his gaze yet again. Like he was looking at me.

Fully. 

Deeply. 

It was as though, in that single moment, the entire world outside this room ceased to exist.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry, as his eyes lingered on my face, tracing the lines of my features with deliberate slowness. 

It felt like he was memorizing me, cataloging every detail—the way my lips curved into a faint smile, the way my eyes widened slightly in surprise. But he didn't look away. He didn't break that contact.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare, I cleared my throat, shifting awkwardly in place. "Uh... I, uh..." I tried to think of something to say—anything to break the tension—but all that came out was a small, nervous laugh. Flustered, I gave a twirl in my saree, the fabric fluttering as I spun clumsily in place, trying to lighten the mood.

"How do I look?" I asked, my voice a little higher than usual, excitement threading through my words. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, my heartbeat quickening as I waited for his response. Even though he had helped me wear the saree just minutes earlier, this was the first time he was seeing me fully, right? In the light at least!

Shehryar's gaze never wavered. He didn't speak right away, and for a second, I thought he would not say anything at all.

The silence stretched between us, thick and charged, as if the air itself had grown heavier in anticipation of his next words. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, the tension building even more with each passing second in anticipation.

Then, his eyes flickered. It was subtle—so quick that I almost missed it—but in that brief moment, something changed. His expression shifted, darkening with something unreadable, his gaze held an intensity that made my skin tingle. He tilted his head ever so slightly, like he was assessing me, his eyes trailing over my face with the kind of focus that left no room for doubt.

The kind of focus that somehow made me...scared. 

In a weirdly excited way...

He was looking at me. Not just glancing, not just admiring, but really seeing me in a way that felt almost... almost intrusive. 

As if he was stripping away the layers of pretense I had so carefully built around and peering directly into my soul.

My breath caught in my chest, and I felt an overwhelming need to look away, to break the eye contact that had suddenly become far too intimate. But I couldn't. I was frozen, caught in the pull of his gaze like a moth to flame. The way he was watching me was unlike anything I had ever experienced before—there was heat there, yes, but it was more than that.

It was possessive.

Like he had already claimed me in ways I wasn't even aware of. When he finally spoke, his voice was a deep, low rumble, barely above a whisper but enough to send a shiver down my spine.

"Edible."

-flashback ends-

I snapped out of the memory as that word replayed in my head for the hundredth time since we'd left the house. I blinked, forcing myself to look away from his hands gripping the wheel, reminding myself that we were headed to a formal function, not one of those fictional parties where everything leads to something wild.

My gaze landed on the Coke float sitting in the car's cup holder, the very one Shehryar had pointed at earlier repeating the words, "Edible." I couldn't help but bite back a smile at the memory, shaking my head as I looked out the window.

Despite my attempt to stay calm, I could feel a small pit of nervousness forming in my stomach. The night ahead loomed large in my mind. The award, the crowd of influential people, the pressure that came with being Shehryar Khan's wife, and more than anything, the strange sense of anticipation that had been hanging between us all evening.

Shehryar Khan's wife.

Me?

It sounded weird. Unfamiliar.

As the car finally slowed to a stop, I lifted my eyes to take in the sight of the grand hotel where the ceremony was taking place. The towering structure was bathed in golden light, its entrance bustling with people dressed in classic glittering outfits, chatting, laughing, and preparing to step into an evening of celebration.

I felt Shehryar's hand brush lightly against mine as he shifted gears. The valet stood by the gate, waiting patiently before opening the driver's side door for him. I watched as Shehryar handed the keys over and then turned to my side of the car. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my clutch, ready to open the door, but a hand beat me to it.

For a moment, I was confused. I glanced at the valet on my side, who was clearly about to do the same, but then my gaze shifted to that of my husband who somehow seemed to be quicker than both the valet and I when it came to opening doors I suppose.

My heart quickened the moment he extended his hand toward me, his voice low and smooth-

"Shall we?"

-•❅•-

The night had a certain buzz to it, an electric hum that filled the air of the lobby where we were all gathered, waiting. 

It had been fifteen minutes since Shehryar and I had arrived at the venue for the ceremony, and though the main hall where the awards would be presented hadn't opened yet, the lobby was already alive with movement. 

People milled about, drinks in hand, laughter spilling softly from one group to the next. Waiters drifted between the guests like shadows, offering trays of sparkling water, champagne, and delicate canapés.

Everything gleamed—the polished marble floors, the golden accents of the chandeliers above, the mirrored walls reflecting an endless swirl of designer gowns and tuxedos.

But for me, the gleam of it all wasn't in the grandeur of the setting. It was in him.

I stood there beside Shehryar, my hand lightly brushing his arm as he commanded the attention of yet another group of well-dressed people. 

His presence in this space was effortless, like the room had been designed just for him. His tall, broad-shoulder, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit that was tailored to fit him in every perfect way. The crisp white shirt beneath along with his tie, a silk one, bottle green in colour, made his sharp features even more striking, his hair perfectly styled, though not in a way that seemed forced. His jawline- sharp, his stubble just enough to give him an edge, and his eyes—those deep, intense eyes—were alive with focus and engagement as he spoke.

He had this natural way of exuding authority, the kind that made people lean in when he spoke. The kind that made them nod their heads with approval even before they'd fully processed his words.

As he spoke, I found myself smiling in quiet awe. It wasn't just admiration—it was something deeper, something that stirred in my chest and made me want to laugh out loud at the irony of it all. 

Here he was, this man who moved through the crowd with effortless grace, every gaze falling on him as if he was the center of their universe. And yet, this was the same man who, not too long ago, had driven through a storm—completely drenched—to bring me a diabetic drink. 

This man, whom people couldn't get enough of, who seemed unreachable to them, had stood outside my door with rainwater dripping from his sleeves, holding that drink out to me like it was the most important delivery of his life.

I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face at the memory. It was so easy to forget in moments like these, just how human he was. 

"Shehryar," a voice chimed, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Kartik, Naina." I blinked, refocusing on the now new couple in front of us, as Shehryar greeted them before introducing me for what felt like the tenth time tonight. 

They were both tall, elegant, and seemed to radiate the kind of wealth that was subtle; understated. 

The woman had glossy dark hair and was wearing a flowing ruby gown that shimmered under the chandeliers. The man, her husband, was dressed in a deep navy suit that complemented her dress perfectly. Together, they looked like they belonged on the cover of some luxury lifestyle magazine. But they seemed warm, approachable.

"This," Shehryar continued, his voice effortlessly smooth and so full of pride that it almost made me question whom he was referring to. "is my wife, Khwahish."

His hand found the small of my back as he spoke, just a light touch, but grounding all the same. The woman's eyes lit up as she extended her hand to me, her smile genuine. "We've heard so much about you! It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Khwahish!" she said, reaching out to take my hand in hers. 

Her touch was soft but firm, and there was something in her gaze that made me feel seen.

"And you as well," I replied, my voice slipping into that polite, gracious tone I had learned to use in these kinds of settings. "Shehryar speaks very highly of both of you."

I didn't even know they existed a second ago.

Hehe.

The husband laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to fit his stature. "Well, we've been fortunate to work with Shehryar on a few projects. He's quite the asset."

I smiled at his words. 

Damn right he is.

As we exchanged pleasantries, the conversation naturally flowed. It wasn't long before the woman's curiosity shifted to me. 

"Shehryar mentioned you're a graphic designer?" she asked, her eyes bright with interest.

He did?

I nodded, feeling a little more at ease. It wasn't often that people in these business-heavy circles showed interest in my work, but when they did, it was a welcome shift. "Well," I let out a small chuckle, "I try..." She laughs at my words, "I've been working in the industry for a few years now."

Her eyes sparkled, and I could tell she was genuinely interested. "That's fascinating! I've always been intrigued by design. What kind of projects do you work on?"

I glanced at Shehryar, who had taken a step back as if encouraging me to take the lead in the conversation, there was something about the way his head slightly tilted spreading a weird sense of confidence within me as I looked back at the woman, "I specialize in branding." I explained, turning back to her. "Most of my work involves creating brand identities for companies—but I'm kind of planning to shift into publications." 

"Brand identities..." The way she repeated those words made me chuckle as I clarified, "Um- you know- logos, packaging, and just the overall visual direction. Basic stuff."

The woman's smile widened as she nodded. "That sounds so exciting! I don't really have much knowledge about it, I'm more into fine arts, but! I've always thought that graphic design is a great way of storytelling, but visually."

I felt a surge of appreciation for her understanding. "Exactly! In fact any form of art actually," I said, my enthusiasm rising. "It's about telling a story, graphic is more about just finding that perfect balance between aesthetics and functionality."

The husband tilted his head, intrigued. "Do you find it challenging? The whole balancing the creative side with the practical needs of the client?"

I couldn't help but laugh softly. "All the time! Honestly, I can't even count the number of times when I found a design to be 'bomb' only for the client to end its life with a 'nah'."

The couple let out a loud laugh and I couldn't help but grin at them sheepishly. 

The conversation flowed, and I found myself genuinely enjoying the exchange. It wasn't often that I had the opportunity to talk so deeply about my work in these kinds of settings, and truth be told, it felt refreshing to be seen as more than just Shehryar's wife. 

Let's be real here, I was fully prepared to be shamed because, isn't that what rich people do in series when they see someone with an average income in such a high-end setting?

Well maybe I'm saved because I'm accompanied by a rich man?

'Or maybe you're just a judgemental ass hater, Wish?' 

I could practically hear my conscience mock me for assuming the worst case scenario and generalising everyone over here just because of some unpleasant memories from past experiences in such settings.

The woman's interest and understanding made the conversation feel natural, and for the first time that evening, I felt like I was truly part of this world, rather than just someone observing it from the sidelines.

"Shehryar, do you mind if I borrow your wife for a bit?" she asked, turning to him with a playful smile. "I'd love to introduce her to someone."

Shehryar's eyes flickered to mine as if asking me 'if that was okay with me?' in return making me immediately bob my head up and down, before he responded, his smile easy and charming. "Of course," he said, his voice warm with amusement.

I excused myself from the men and followed Naina across the room, weaving through the crowd toward a cluster of women gathered near the bar. Their laughter bubbled over, welcoming me with warmth, their smiles lighting up the elegant space. Each of them looked effortlessly stunning, dressed like visions straight out of a dream. But despite the sea of beauty around me, my gaze kept gravitating toward one woman—a striking figure in a royal blue strapless dress.

There was something magnetic about her. Her hair fell just above her shoulders in soft waves, framing a face that seemed both delicate and confident. And those eyes—once they locked on mine. I couldn't look away. Her gaze held a quiet curiosity. Everyone around her was radiant, their positivity almost contagious, yet it was her silent, multiple curious glances in my direction that sent a ripple of intrigue through me.

Had I seen her before? 

I couldn't be sure. 

Amara—that's the name she gave, wasn't it? 

It struck a chord, but for the life of me, I couldn't place where I'd heard it. As much as her stare unnerved me, it wasn't cold or unsettling; in fact, her eyes had a warmth to them, her greeting gracious yet loud. Still, something about the way she observed me made it feel like she wasn't just looking at me—she was looking through me, as if she wanted to peel back the layers behind my smile.

Weird.

I tried to shake off the strange feeling, convincing myself I was overthinking it. Naina and the others were chatting about everything from fashion to the latest design trends, and soon enough, I joined the conversation.

It was casual, lively, and I found myself slipping into the rhythm of it easily. The women were sharp, witty, and insightful, and though we touched on various topics, the thread of 'bollywood' remained a constant. One of the women mentioned her company's recent rebranding efforts, and before I knew it, we were deep in a discussion about the evolving trends of what works and what simply doesn't. 

I was in the middle of a conversation when, almost as if pulled by some invisible string, I couldn't help the way my eyes instinctively started searching across the room for those familiar pools of brown. Hoping to find them in the crowd, and when they did, they were already looking back at me. 

His eyes—dark, deep, and filled with that intensity that never seemed to fade—were locked on me, the softest of smiles playing on his lips. For a moment, everything around us faded. The buzz of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the hum of the room—it all dissolved into the background, leaving just the two of u-

"Right, Khwahish?" I was the first to break the contact as I quickly shifted my attention back to the women around.

"Yeah!" I breathed out like I just didn't zone out seconds ago.

They gave me that 'you weren't listening, were you?' look making me let out a nervous chuckle as I immediately apologized.

"I-I'm sorry I-" 

"We know, we get it."

A flush warmed my cheeks as one of them teasingly responded, casting a glance in his direction, making embarrassment creep through my soul, as I shook my head, aiming to refocus on the conversation.

It felt invigorating to be surrounded by women who not only understood my work but appreciated the complexities behind it. As we spoke, I found myself relaxing even more, the tension of the evening easing away.

But just as I was settling into the conversation, the formal announcement for the ceremony rang through the lobby. The speaker's voice echoed, calling us into the main hall where the awards would take place. All of us excused ourselves, smiling and promising to continue the conversation later, before making our way back toward our significant others.

My eyes wandered around looking for Shehryar again, only to find him standing near the entrance to the hall, as poised and commanding as ever.

Even in the midst of the crowd, his presence was unmistakable. His eyes found mine the moment I stepped into his line of sight, and I could see the way his posture subtly shifted as I approached. He didn't have to wave me over or gesture impatiently; I could see it in the way his eyes softened— as he simply waited.

A smile immediately graced my lips as I quickened my pace, my heels clicking against the perfectly carpeted marble floor, the weight of the evening suddenly feeling lighter knowing I was making my way back to him.

Since when had I become this cheesy, again?

And why? 

I had known this man for three years now, so what was so different about these past three days anyway?

His attention shifted away from me the moment a man tapped on his shoulder making me let out a sigh of relief. 

Thank god, I just find it weird walking while someone watches my every move.

His back was now turned to mine, and just as I was about to reach him, I felt my heel catch slightly on the plush carpet beneath me. It was a minor stumble, so small that I was pretty sure it didn't even register to anyone else in the room. 

Anyone but him. 

Instinctively, my hand shot out, and before I know I grabbed Shehryar's palm to steady myself.

"Damnit!" My heart raced a  little, as the fear of almost falling gripped me, a sudden rush of heat flooding my cheeks as I cursed under my breath. 

I mean okay, no I didn't embarrass myself on a large scale but what if I did? I mean neither heels nor sarees were my thing now!

His head whipped in my direction, and before I could process anything, his grip on my hand tightened—three times harder than the initial force with which I grabbed him.

His reaction was immediate, as swift and certain as ever. Without missing a beat, I could feel the way he immediately pulled me closer to him with such firmness that I could feel the heat of his body radiating through the fabric of his suit.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was low, a quiet mixture of concern and alarm meant only for me. His eyes darted up and down, scanning me from head to toe as if searching for any sign of injury.

Remind me again, did I just trip or was I hit by a truck or something??

"Of course, I'm okay, Sher," I said, a soft laugh escaping my lips at the absurdity of his reaction.

"I just tripped a little." But his grip on my hand tightened, and the smile faltered on my lips as I felt the tension in his body.

I looked at the way his large palm completely enveloped mine while his left hand now held me by my shoulder as he took a step back not paying a single heed to my assurance. 

I blinked up at him, repeating my words "Shehryar, I'm fine, really."

He didn't seem convinced. His brows furrowed, his eyes dark and stormy with concern as they flicked down to my feet and then back up to my face. He held onto me as though I were made of glass, fragile and breakable.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and rough, edged with worry. "Did you twist your ankle?"

I shook my head quickly, desperate to reassure him. "No, no," I said, my voice a little hasty now. "I'm fine, really. I just missed a step. The carpet's to blame, not me."

I tried to cut the concern with humor as I looked around. 

Everyone was almost already inside.

This is not good.

"Shehryar, I'm fine." This time I attempted to pull my hand back away from his hold only for him to make his grip firmer than before.

"Let me see." A sense of panic immediately enveloped me the moment I could sense him attempting to kneel down in front of me in such a crowded premises making me immediately grab him by the sleeves of suit with my free hand.

"Don't! God just get up!" I could FEEL the embarrassment settle on my cheeks.

The type of embarrassment you would feel as a child when your parents said something embarrassing right in front of your crush, the type when you get caught sending love notes on a random celebrity's Instagram dms, the type where you accidentally send screenshots of your crush's profile to them instead of your best friend or something.

This was so not happening!

He complied with a huff "Don't try to play it off. I saw the way you stumbled. Are you sure you're not hurt? 

"No, you didn't." See. That's not the point, Wish!

"But to answer your question; no Shehryar I'm not hurt. Really." I attempted to walk on the spot as if to answer his concern. "Now can we please go inside, people are staring!" 

God this wasn't supposed to be such a big deal anyway!

For a long moment, he didn't respond. He just stared at me, his eyes flicking over my face as if searching for any trace of pain. Then, finally, his shoulders seemed to relax a fraction, making me let out a sigh of my own. 

I attempted to pull back my hand the moment we stepped into the concerned area, only to have him still hold on to it with an unwavering grip.

I smiled, as I looked at the few familiar faces, before leaning a little closer to him,

"Let go, Sher."

He just scoffed, "Asking for too much, aren't we?"

Wait what- 

My head snapped in his direction as he led the way to our seats at one of the circular tables accompanied by a few more people.

"Excuse me, what is that supposed to mea-"

"Just sit." he said, his tone gentle but authoritative as he dragged the chair for me. His grip unwavering.

I opened my mouth to protest, but one look at his face told me that arguing would be pointless. His expression was set, his resolve clear. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as we sat down, his eyes never leaving me, as if he were still looking for any signs of discomfort.

We settled into our chairs, the plush velvet cushions soft beneath us, and for a moment, I thought he might finally release my hand.

But instead, he held on tighter, his fingers lacing through mine as if he couldn't bear to let go. I glanced at him, a small smile playing on my lips, but he simply raised an eyebrow as if daring me to say something.

"You know I'm fine, right?" I whispered teasingly, leaning closer to him. "You don't have to hold my hand like I'm about to fall over any second."

He just rolled his eyes at me and almost plopped our hands on his lap but stopped, I looked at him amused as he cleared his throat and decided to showcase our hands on top of the circular table instead as if he was unveiling a weird prize of his own.

Who in their right mind keeps their clearly intertwined hands on the table like they're starring in a cheesy romantic movie?

I mean, are we trying to win "Most Dramatic Couple" or something?

An elderly man at our table shot us a bewildered look, making me laugh nervously as I quickly yanked our hands back under the table, trying to escape his grip like I was evading a clingy octopus.

Never in my mind did I ever think that I would use the 'clingy' word for my husband out of all people.

His eyes snapped to mine before he yanked my hand towards him, at my action, keeping it firmly on his lap as he focused on the ceremony.

"We're literally seated, Shehryar." I pointed out, exasperated.

"I'm not taking any chances. You've proven yourself capable of tripping over air."

"It was the carpet!" I huffed, rolling my eyes.

As the ceremony began, I tried to focus on the presenters and the speeches, but my attention kept drifting back to the man on my side.

He was sitting so close, his hand still clasped firmly in mine, his thumb occasionally brushing against my skin in gentle, absentminded strokes. Even as the speeches droned on and the applause filled the room, he refused to let go, as if I'd fall anytime he does, as if holding my hand was a silent promise, a way of grounding us both.

A weird sense of warmth filled my chest, a warmth that I had been trying so hard to ignore. 

Minutes turned into an hour, and still, he held my hand. I could feel the subtle shift in his posture as the anticipation of his own award grew, the way his body tensed slightly as the presenter began to introduce the category. It's funny how his face would never let that emotion out, a movement so subtle that I would've missed it too if we didn't have the point of contact that we did. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of excitement and pride welling up inside me and before I knew it, my grip on his hand tightened reflexively. 

"And now, the award for the Businessman of the Year-"

I felt his head turn towards me.

"In recognition of his groundbreaking contributions to the hospitality industry and his remarkable leadership in redefining luxury experiences, this year's recipient is..."

And I met his gaze. The muscle of his jaw popping. 

"Mr. Shehryar Mir Khan!"

The room erupted in applause, but all I could hear was the rush of my own heartbeat. Our eyes locked, and I could barely breathe as tears welled up in my eyes. A proud smile spread across my lips as I thought of everything he had done to reach this moment. As I thought of the man he was years back.

As I thought of the man who worked so hard to be where he was now.

A man who deserved every bit of this moment.

"Congratulations, Sher." I whispered.

-•❅•-

I've grown fond of those eyes, where else could I possibly go from here?

-•❅•-

okayyy!!! you CANNOT say I didn't make up for the late update now!!!!

A double update! And that too a long one at that!!!

Anyway in case you all are wondering why, well I was sick as heck lol hence the delay guys!

Anyway if you want a quicker update please please please (in sabrina's voice) leave your comments it really helps a lot and is crazyyyy encouraging so kindly do that please! and do not forget to vote! your girl is tired so no blabbering today you all can rest in peace I mean just rest...in peace. lol!

me lobhhs you all a lottt!!!

acchha chalo byeeee!

xoxo

its sheewholoved!