𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗣𝗼𝘃 :

The crisp Zurich air carried a faint chill as Alizeh walked toward the Zürich Institut für Mode und Design (ZIMD), her thoughts tangled in the whirlwind of the past few days. She had barely been in Switzerland for four days, yet life had already thrown her into chaos.

She tried to shake off the feeling, focusing instead on the towering glass buildings that reflected the morning sun. A new day, a fresh start. That’s what she had promised herself.

But fate seemed to have a different plan.

---

The auditorium-style lecture hall was already half-full when Alizeh stepped inside. Tall windows let in the early light, casting golden streaks across the polished wooden desks. A low hum of conversation filled the room as students settled in.

She took a seat near the middle, flipping open her sketchbook to a fresh page. The class was titled The History and Psychology of Fashion, an introductory course that all design students were required to attend.

Then, the room fell into silence.

The door at the front shut with a quiet thud, and footsteps echoed across the hall.

Alizeh’s heart skipped a beat.

Standing at the podium was Azael Khan.

Her mind stuttered to process what she was seeing. Gone was the man she had met under entirely different circumstances—his dark eyes challenging, his presence suffocating. Now, he stood before them with the commanding aura of authority, dressed in a fitted charcoal suit, sleeves pushed just enough to reveal the sharp veins running along his forearms.

Alizeh felt the air leave her lungs.

He was a professor?

Here?

At her university?

Her fingers clenched around her pen as realization hit her like a freight train.

Her gaze flickered to the golden nameplate on the desk in front of him. The inscription read:

Professor Azael Khan

Department of Fashion Design & Innovation

She barely had time to process the shock before his voice filled the room.

“Fashion is not just an art. It’s a language. A statement.” His tone was smooth, powerful, and effortlessly captivating. He took a slow step forward, his sharp gaze scanning the room before locking onto her.

Alizeh swallowed hard.

“We design not just for beauty but for impact,” he continued, pacing the front of the room. “Every color, every fabric, every stitch tells a story. A political movement. A rebellion. A legacy.”

She felt the weight of his words settle over her, but more than that—she felt the weight of

his stare.

She was suddenly back in that car challenge, the taste of adrenaline still fresh on her tongue. The memory of his lips brushing hers. The intensity in his eyes.

Azael’s gaze flickered in her direction again.

“Miss Alizeh.”

Her breath hitched.

“Tell me—what story do your designs tell?”

It was a test. A challenge.

And even though a thousand emotions were warring inside her, she wasn’t about to back down.

“Expression,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “My designs express identity. Who we are. What we feel. What we can’t say out loud.”

Azael tilted his head slightly, as if considering her answer. Then, to her surprise, the ghost of a smirk touched his lips.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Let’s see if your work proves it.”

And just like that, he moved on, leaving her sitting there, heart racing, mind reeling

The moment class ended, Alizeh practically ran out of the lecture hall, her mind still struggling to accept what had just happened.

Professor Azael Khan.

She needed to talk to someone. Aria.

Pulling out her phone, she dialed her best friend.

The call barely rang twice before Aria picked up.

“Alizeh! ”

“Aria,” Alizeh cut her off, her voice rushed. “Tu soch bhi nahi sakti maine aaj kya dekha.”

(Aria, you can’t even imagine what I saw today.)

Aria’s tone turned curious. “Kya? Kya hua?”

(What? What happened?)

Alizeh exhaled sharply. “Azael Khan.”

“Uh… what about him?”

Alizeh lowered her voice, gripping her phone tighter. “Woh yahan ka professor hai, Aria!”

(He’s a professor here, Aria!)

There was a pause. Then—

“Wait… WHAT?” Aria nearly shrieked. “Tu serious hai?”

(Wait… WHAT? Are you serious?)

“Bilkul.”

(Absolutely.)

Aria’s voice turned more urgent. “Kya woh tumhare department ka professor hai?”

(Is he a professor in your department?)

Alizeh frowned at the specific question. “Haan… kyun?”

(Yeah… why?)

“Mujhe laga kisi aur department ka professor hoga…” Aria mumbled, almost to herself.

(I thought he’d be a professor in some other department…)

Alizeh froze. “Kya matlab? Matlab tum jaanti thi?!”

(What do you mean? You knew?!)

“Alizeh—”

“Aria, aur tumne mujhe bataya bhi nahi?”

(Aria, and you didn’t even tell me?)

“Sorry, yaar! Main soch rahi thi kisi na kisi din tu khud jaan jaayegi—”

(Sorry, yaar! I thought you’d find out on your own someday—)

“Seriously, Aria?” Alizeh’s disbelief was sharp. “Tu itni casually keh rahi hai jaise yeh koi chhoti si baat ho!”

(Seriously, Aria? You’re saying this so casually like it’s some small thing!)

Aria groaned. “Mujhe pata hai, mujhe pehle bata dena chahiye tha. But listen, meri class 10 minute mein khatam ho rahi hai. Tu cafeteria aa ja, phir baat karte hain.”

(I know, I should’ve told you earlier. But listen, my class is ending in ten minutes. Come to the cafeteria, we’ll talk then.)

Alizeh exhaled, still annoyed but knowing she wanted answers.

“Fine.”

But before she could say anything more, Aria disconnected the call.

Alizeh stared at her phone, her pulse still uneven. Azael Khan was a professor in her department. Aria already knew. And now, she had even more questions.

Cafeteria

The cafeteria was buzzing with students, the aroma of fresh coffee and warm croissants lingering in the air. Alizeh spotted Aria near the corner, sitting at a table with a coffee cup in her hands.

Alizeh marched over, dropping her bag onto the chair beside her. “Start talking.”

Aria sighed dramatically. “Mujhe pata tha tu mujhe maar dalegi.” (I knew you were going to kill me.)

“Main sirf explanation chahti hoon.” (I just want an explanation.) Alizeh crossed her arms. “Tu pehle se jaanti thi, Aria. Mujhe kyun nahi bataya?” (You knew from the start, Aria. Why didn’t you tell me?)

Aria winced. “Honestly? Mujhe laga yeh koi bada deal nahi hai.” (Honestly? I didn’t think it was a big deal.)

Alizeh’s jaw dropped. “Bada deal nahi hai? Ek banda jisse main Switzerland aane ke pehle deen hee mil chuki hoon, jo mujhe—” (Not a big deal? A guy I had already met my first day in Switzerland, who—) She stopped herself. No way was she bringing up the kiss. “—aur wo yahan ka professor nikla? And you thought that wasn’t worth mentioning?”

(—and he turns out to be a professor here? And you thought that wasn’t worth mentioning?)

Aria took a sip of her coffee, clearly stalling. “Tu overreact kar rahi hai.” (You’re overreacting.)

Alizeh shot her a glare.

Aria sighed. “Thik hai, meri galti. Par sun… ek aur baat hai.” (Okay, my mistake. But listen… there’s one more thing.)

Alizeh narrowed her eyes. “Ab kya?” (Now what?)

Aria cleared her throat, suddenly looking everywhere but at Alizeh. “Woh… Maaz—mera boyfriend—” (Uh… Maaz—my boyfriend—) She took a deep breath. “Woh bhi isi university mein professor hai.” (He’s also a professor at this university.)

Silence.

Alizeh blinked. “Maaz? Tumhara boyfriend? Professor?” (Maaz? Your boyfriend? A professor?)

Aria bit her lip. “Uh… haan.” (Uh… yes.)

Alizeh's brain felt like it short-circuited. “Matlab? Koi aur Maaz nahi, wahi Maaz?” (Wait… You mean no other Maaz, the same Maaz?)

Aria nodded hesitantly.

Alizeh stared at her, completely still. “Haan?” (Yeah?)

Aria shifted uncomfortably. “Actually… woh mere department ka hi professor hai.” (Actually… he teaches my department too.)

Alizeh’s head snapped up. “KYA?!” (WHAT?!)

Aria held up her hands. “Dekho, mujhe sach mein batana chahiye tha, but main bhool gayi.” (Look, I really should’ve told you, but I forgot!.)

Alizeh narrowed her eyes. “Tu mujhe yeh bata, tujhe usse pyaar kaise hua?” (Tell me, how did you even fall in love with him?)

Aria smiled softly. “Pata nahi… pehli baar jab uska lecture suna tha, tab samajh nahi aaya ke subject pasand aaya ya woh khud.” (I don’t know… The first time I attended his lecture, I wasn’t sure if I loved the subject or him.)

Alizeh snorted. “Matlab shuru se hi professor pe crush tha?” (So you had a crush on your professor from the start?)

Aria rolled her eyes. “Oh please, pehle bas admire karti thi, pyaar toh baad mein hua.” (Oh please, at first, I just admired him. Love came later.)

Alizeh smirked. “Haan, haan, tum dono kaafi ‘professor-student’ romance wali vibe de rahe ho.” (Yeah, yeah, you two are totally giving off ‘professor-student romance’ vibes.)

Aria gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. “Excuse me? Yeh kaisi accusation hai, madam?”

(Excuse me? What kind of accusation is this, madam?)

Alizeh raised a brow, biting back a laugh. “Accusation nahi, bas ek honest observation.”

(Not an accusation, just an honest observation.)

Aria huffed, crossing her arms. “Maine tujhe bataane ki galti kar di. Ab tum bas mazaak udaayegi.”

(I made the mistake of telling you, and now you’ll just keep teasing me.)

Alizeh leaned forward, her smirk widening. “Of course! Tu soch, tumhare hi professor pe crush, phir romance… mujhe toh ab yeh full story detail mein sunni padegi.”

(Of course! Just think—having a crush on your own professor, then romance… now I need to hear this full story in detail.)

Aria groaned, covering her face. “Main kyun?”

(Why me?)

Alizeh chuckled, leaning forward with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Kyunki tu meri best friend hai, aur yeh meri duty hai.”

(Because you’re my best friend, and this is my duty.)

Aria peeked at her through her fingers, groaning. “Acha bas, zyada mat chhed, warna main bhi tere secrets nikalne lagungi.”

(Okay, stop teasing too much, or I’ll start revealing your secrets too.)

Alizeh smirked, unfazed. “Mere paas koi secrets nahi.”

(I don’t have any secrets.)

Aria’s lips curled knowingly. “Azael Khan.”

Alizeh’s face stiffened for half a second before she scoffed and casually picked up her coffee. “Waise ek baat bata, kal Aunty ki surgery hui thi na? Phir aaj Azael class lene aa gaye?”

(By the way, tell me one thing—Aunty had surgery yesterday, right? Then why did Azael still come to take a class today?)

Aria narrowed her eyes, catching the sudden shift. “Baat mat ghumaa. Pehle mujhe ye btao, tu itni seriously uske baare mein soch kyun rahi hai?”

(Don’t change the topic. First, tell me why you’re suddenly thinking so seriously about him?)

Alizeh sighed, exasperated. “Aria, bas bata.”

(Aria, just tell me.)

Aria smirked but finally answered. “Haan, woh aisa hi hai. Emotionally zyda expresses nahi karta, par apni maa ka bahut khayal rakhta hai.”

(Yeah, that’s just how he is. He doesn’t express emotions much, but he takes great care of his mother.)

Alizeh hummed, processing that information, but Aria wasn’t done. She leaned forward mischievously. “Par tu yeh sab kyun pooch rahi hai? Mujhe toh lagta hai sirf curiosity nahi hai…”

(But why are you asking all this? I don’t think it’s just curiosity…)

Alizeh shot her a warning look. “Aria, chup kar ke apna coffee pi”

(Aria, shut up and drink your coffee.)

Aria grinned, looking far too entertained as she took a sip. “Chal yeh sab chhodo, tu yeh bata, achhe se shift ho gayi na apartment mein? Koi dikkat toh nahi hui?” (Anyway, leave all this—tell me, have you settled into your apartment properly? No problems, right?)

Alizeh sighed. “Haan, bas thoda adjust karna padha, lekin ab sab theek hai.” (Yeah, had to adjust a little, but everything’s fine now.)

Aria smirked. “Good, warna mujhe phirse tujhe adopt karna padta.” (Good, or else I’d have to adopt you again.)

Alizeh rolled her eyes. “Main Switzerland explore karne aayi hoon, tumhare ghar jamai banne nahi.” (I came to explore Switzerland, not become your live-in guest.)

Aria laughed. “Dekhte hain, abhi Switzerland tumhe aur kitne surprises deta hai.” (Let’s see how many more surprises Switzerland has for you.)

                        ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The low hum of an Audi R8 echoed through the university driveway, catching more than a few students' attention. The car pulled to a smooth halt near the entrance, its glossy black surface gleaming under the afternoon sun.

The driver’s window rolled down slightly, and Azael Khan, leaning back lazily against the headrest, tilted his head toward the cool glass. His sharp blue eyes scanned the area with practiced indifference, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

On the other side, the passenger door clicked open, and Maaz stepped out, stretching as if he had just woken up from a nap. His gaze immediately found Aria, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"Kal milte hain, baby," Maaz murmured, sliding an arm over Aria’s shoulder before pulling her into a brief hug.

(See you tomorrow, baby.)

Aria rolled her eyes but smiled, nudging him playfully. "Tumhara romantic mode kabhi band hota hai?"

(Does your romantic mode ever turn off?)

Alizeh, standing beside her, barely noticed their exchange.

Her gaze was locked elsewhere.

Near the car, Azael finally moved, pushing open his door and stepping out with his usual effortless composure. As he stood straight, his hand absentmindedly raked through his brown hair before he shut the door. His fitted black coat and the crisp button-up beneath made him look every bit the professor he was.

And apparently, she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

A group of girls near the steps—clearly first-years—giggled amongst themselves.

"Uff, Professor Khan is too hot, yaar," one of them whispered, not-so-subtly staring at him.

(Ugh, Professor Khan is too hot, girl.)

"Imagine having him as your professor? Concentration ka toh waat lag jayega!" another laughed, biting her lip.

(Imagine having him as your professor? There’s no way we’d be able to concentrate!)

Alizeh felt an unfamiliar prick of irritation settle in her chest.

What the hell?

Why was she annoyed? It wasn’t like she—

Before she could finish that thought, Huma, one of the girls from her class, confidently walked up to Azael.

"Sir, ek selfie mil sakti hai?" Huma asked sweetly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

(Sir, can I get a selfie with you?)

Alizeh stiffened.

Azael, for a second, seemed like he would refuse.

But then, to her utter shock, he gave a small nod. "Just one."

Alizeh’s fingers curled around the strap of her bag as she watched Huma beam, quickly opening her camera.

Azael stood still, his expression unreadable as Huma leaned in slightly, making sure she got the perfect angle. The moment the picture was taken, she let out a dramatic sigh.

"Thank you so much, sir. You have no idea how happy this makes me."

Alizeh felt something sharp twist in her chest.

Azael, however, barely reacted. "Hmm."

Huma turned, practically skipping back to her friends. "Girls, I got it!" she squealed, showing them the picture.

"Ugh, he looks even better up close," one of them sighed dreamily.

Alizeh exhaled, irritation bubbling beneath her skin.

Why the hell was she reacting like this?

Just then, a familiar black sedan rolled up near them.

Her driver.

She turned to Aria, forcing her voice to remain neutral. "Main nikalti hoon, baad mein milti hain."

(I’m leaving. I’ll see you later.)

Aria blinked, reaching out as if to stop her. "Arey, ruk na! Itni jaldi kya hai?"

(Hey, wait! What’s the rush?)

But Alizeh was already moving toward the car.

She didn’t know why she felt the sudden need to leave.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to stand there a second longer.

She climbed into the backseat, closing the door behind her. As the car pulled away, her gaze flickered to the rearview mirror—where a certain pair of blue eyes lingered on her for a second before turning away.

The car moved in smooth, silent strides through the dimly lit streets of Zurich, but Alizeh’s mind was a chaos of unwanted thoughts.

Her fingers curled into fists against her lap, her breathing measured yet laced with an unfamiliar agitation. The city lights passed in fleeting blurs outside the window, but she barely noticed them.

Her mind was stuck back at the university.

Stuck on him.

And on the girl who stood beside him.

Huma.

The way she had leaned in just a little too close. The way her eyes had sparkled—bright, knowing, expectant—as if she had the right to be that close to him. The way Azael had allowed it, his smirk lazy, unaffected, almost as if—

As if it meant nothing.

A slow, simmering heat burned at the base of Alizeh’s stomach, coiling tight like an unspoken accusation. She hated that it had unsettled her. That it had bothered her.

Why should it?

Azael Khan wasn’t hers.

He wasn’t anything to her.

Just a professor. A stranger she had met by accident. A fleeting presence in her life.

Then why did it feel like a betrayal when he had let Huma stand so close? Why did her chest tighten at the sound of those girls giggling and whispering about how hot he was?

Why did her pulse stutter when she recalled the way he had leaned against his car—so effortlessly, so maddeningly composed—while she sat there, stewing in emotions she didn’t want to name?

She shouldn’t care. She didn’t care.

And yet.

Something inside her hated it.

Her nails dug into her palm. This was ridiculous. Absurd.

She had barely been in Zurich for four days, and already, Azael Khan had turned her world upside down.

From that reckless car race to that damned kiss—the memory of his lips, his fingers against her skin, his unrelenting gaze as if he had been challenging her to break first—it all kept coming back like an unsolved equation.

And now this?

Now, he was her professor?

The irony would have been amusing if it didn’t feel like a cruel twist of fate.

Alizeh exhaled, pressing a hand against her temple. This needs to stop.

She wasn’t here for this. She had come for her dreams, for a fresh start, for a life that had nothing to do with entanglements she could not afford.

She was here to become a designer, not to fall in love with his professor .

Not to get caught up in the enigma of Azael Khan.

But as the car turned toward her apartment, she realized something.

No matter how much she tried to push him out of her thoughts—

He was already there.

---

Azael & Maaz – A Late-Night Conversation

The digital clock on Azael’s bedside table blinked 12:47 AM.

Sleep had long abandoned him. His mind was restless, tangled in thoughts he didn’t want to admit he was having.

With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and dialed Maaz.

The call connected instantly.

"Oho, bhai jaan ne iss waqt yaad kiya?" Maaz’s voice was filled with amusement. "Sab khairiyat?" (Oh, my dear brother remembered me at this hour? Everything okay?)

Azael didn’t waste time. "Kya Aria ne Alizeh ko bataya tha?" (Did Aria tell Alizeh?)

There was a pause. "Kis baare mein?" (About what?)

Azael’s jaw clenched. "Ki main iss university ka professor hoon." (That I’m a professor at this university.)

Silence. Then—

"Hah!" Maaz burst into laughter. "Toh yeh baat hai." (So this is what it's about.)

Azael wasn’t amused. "Maaz."

Still grinning, Maaz said, "Aria ne mujhe bataya tha ki Alizeh class se seedha usko call karne bhaagi thi." (Aria told me Alizeh ran straight to call her after class.) "Bohot shock laga usse tujhe wahan dekh kar, hmm?" (She was really shocked to see you there, hmm?)

Azael ran a hand down his face. "She wasn’t just shocked. Mujhe laga jaise—jaise usne sach mein expect nahi kiya tha." (She wasn’t just shocked. I felt like she genuinely didn’t expect it.)

Maaz chuckled. "Bhai, obviously. Usne socha bhi nahi hoga ki woh jisse—" (Obviously, brother. She wouldn’t have even imagined that the person she—) he coughed dramatically, "—itni interesting mulaqat ho chuki hai, wahi uska professor niklega." (—had such an interesting encounter with would turn out to be her professor.)

Azael narrowed his eyes. "Main seriously baat kar raha hoon." (I’m talking seriously.)

Maaz hummed. "Accha bata, tujhe kya laga jab tu usko subah dekha?" (Okay, tell me, what did you feel when you saw her this morning?)

Azael hesitated. He remembered the way her eyes had widened, the way her breath had caught when he had said her name.

"...Laga ki woh mujhe apna professor dekh kar shock gayi." (I felt like she was shocked to see me as her professor.)

Maaz smirked. "Sirf shock? Ya kuch aur bhi?" (Just shock? Or something else?)

Azael frowned. "Kya matlab?" (What do you mean?)

"Bhai, pehle race… phir woh kiss…" (Brother, first the race… then that kiss…) Maaz drawled. "Aur ab yeh professor-wala twist—matlab, kahin tumko—" (And now this professor twist—doesn’t it mean you—)

"Maaz." Azael’s voice was a clear warning.

Maaz smirked but didn’t push further. "Theek hai, chhod." (Fine, leave it.)

Azael exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Mujhe pyaar sirf ek baar hua hai." (I’ve only fallen in love once.)

Silence.

Then, softer, Maaz said, "Mujhe pata hai, bhai." (I know, brother.)

Azael didn’t respond.

After a few moments, Maaz cleared his throat. "Chal, kaafi raat ho gayi hai. Tu so ja." (It’s really late now. Go to sleep.)

Azael nodded to himself. "Haan. Aur haan, Aunty kaisi hai?" (Yeah. And how’s Aunty?)

Maaz sighed. "Stable hai." (She’s stable.)

Azael exhaled. "Theek hai, Allah Hafiz."

"Good ni—"

Call disconnected.

Maaz stared at his screen before shaking his head with a smirk. "Banda seriously phas chuka hai." (The guy is seriously caught up.)

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗔𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝘀𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗙𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻 𝗮𝘁 𝗭ü𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝘁 𝗳ü𝗿 𝗠𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻 (𝗭𝗜𝗠𝗗), 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱, 𝗔𝗿𝗶𝗮, 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗙𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗝𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆.