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 lecture hall buzzed with soft chatter as Alizeh slipped inside, her steps quiet against the polished floor. Rows of wooden desks rose in tiers, sunlight spilling through tall windows and painting the room in golden streaks.

The classroom buzzed softly with a quiet chatter and the scrapes of chairs against the floor.

Alizeh slid into a seat in the middle row, her sketchbook open in front of her. Her eyes drifted to the board.

The History and Psychology of Fashion—bold letters stretched across the top. Alizeh read slowly, committing the subject to memory.

Her gaze naturally drifted downward, toward the smaller letters beneath the subject—where the professor’s name should be. She leaned in slightly, curiosity tugging at her.

Then, before she could focus properly, a sharp voice broke the quiet.

“Professor's here!” someone whispered, excitement and curiosity lacing the words.

Almost at the same moment, the classroom door swung open with a loud thud, making several students startle and glance up—and, out of respect, they all rose to their feet, offering quiet nods and murmured greetings. Alizeh, too, quickly stood, her heart skipping a beat as it was her first day of university.

Every eye in the room immediately followed the sound, tracking the man entering—tall, composed, dressed in the crisp, precise attire of a college professor.

The sunlight hit him perfectly, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the authority in his stance.

He pushed the door shut behind him and took a step forward.

The moment his face came into view, Alizeh's eyes widened in shock. Her breath caught in her throat.

“No… this can’t be true…” she whispered almost to herself. “I must be dreaming.”

Her mind raced, struggling to grasp the reality before her.

Then, in a broken, shaky voice, she stammered, “H-how… how can he be a professor… at my university?”.  She recalled how, just a moments ago, he heard someone saying “professor's here…”

He paused for a second, shaking her thoughts. She caught herself thinking, “Maybe he’s not the professor… maybe he’s just here to meet someone. I know his attire says otherwise, but he hasn’t even introduced himself to the class yet as the professor…”

As if trying to reassure herself, she whispered under her breath, steadying her racing heart.

Just as if he could read her thoughts, Azael cleared his throat.

“Good morning, class. I am your professor for The History and Psychology of Fashion,” he said, his voice smooth and measured, every word deliberate. Then, gesturing lightly, he added, “Please, have a seat.”

The students quickly obeyed, sliding into their chairs—and Alizeh followed, though her mind was elsewhere.

She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “shock” felt like too small a word to describe her situation.

She was still trying to process it—could what she had just heard really be true? But in that moment, it didn’t feel real. Her mind seemed to be spinning, struggling to catch up with reality.

To convince herself, she looked again toward the front. Her gaze flicked to the golden nameplate on the desk, its letters gleaming, confirming what her heart was hesitant to accept.

Professor Azael Khan

The momemt she reads it her fingers tightened around her pen, heartbeat thrumming violently. “ For real? Professor? At My uni? And of my class?.”  She thought, a mix of disbelief and something else—nervous anticipation—twisting in her stomach.

Azael’s presence commanded attention again as he began speaking, pacing slowly, each step precise.

“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 involuntarily. Don’t falter… don’t show it… she reminded herself, forcing her spine straight.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low and smooth, “what story do your designs tell?”

Her mind raced, emotions clashing like waves, yet she drew in a steadying breath. “My designs…” she began, her voice shaking only slightly as she controlled it, “…they express identity. Who we are. What we feel… what we can’t say aloud.”

Azael tilted his head, a faint shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. “Intriguing,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s see if your work lives up to that.”

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—she couldn’t handle this shock alone.

Pulling her phone from her bag, she dialed a number. The call barely rang twice before Aria picked up.

“Alizeh! Kya hua? ” Aria asked, alarm lacing her voice as she heard her friend’s quick, uneven breaths.

(Alizeh, what happened?)

“A–Aria,” Alizeh managed between gasps, her voice uneven, “tu soch bhi nahi sakti maine aaj kise dekha.”

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

Aria’s tone sharpened with curiosity. “Kyun? Kise dekha?”

(What? Who?)

Alizeh exhaled shakily. “Azael.”

“ohh… what about him?” Aria replied casually, her tone too nonchalant for Alizeh’s storming mind.

Alizeh lowered her voice, clutching her phone tighter. “Woh Iss university mein padhata hai. Aur sabse badi baat—he’s professor. In my class.”

(He teaches at this university. And the biggest thing—he’s a professor. In my class.)

There was a beat of silence. Then—

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

(Are you serious)

“Haan, kyun? Kya hua?” Alizeh shot back, her voice edged with confusion at Aria’s reaction.

(Yes, why? WHAT HAPPENED)

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

(I thought he must be a professor from some other department.)

Alizeh froze. Her breath caught. “Kya matlab? Kisi aur department? Tum jaanti thi?!”

(What do you mean? Another department? You knew?!)

“Alizeh, I can explain—” Aria began, realization dawning in her voice as it hit her that she had forgotten to tell Alizeh something this important.

“Tune mujhe batana zaruri bhi nahi samjha, Aria?” Alizeh’s tone turned sharp, hurt simmering under her words.

(You didn’t think it was necessary to tell me, Aria?)

“Sorry, yaar! Main bhul gayi thi—” Aria admitted, a hint of guilt in her tone, but she spoke nonchalantly, as if it were nothing important.

(Sorry, dude! I forgot)

“Seriously, Aria?” Alizeh snapped. “Tu itni casually keh rahi hai jaise yeh koi chhoti si baat ho!”

(You’re saying it so casually, like it’s no big deal!)

Aria groaned softly. “Mujhe pata hai, pehle batana chahiye tha. But listen, she pause a beat then,  “meri class 5 minute mein khatam ho rahi hai. Tu cafeteria aa ja, phir hum dono baat karte hain.”

(I know, I should have told you earlier),

(My class is ending in 5 minutes. Come to the cafeteria, then we’ll talk.)

Alizeh exhaled, still fuming, but she needed answers more than anger.

“Fine,” she muttered.

Before she could say 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, Alizeh had even more questions than before.

Cafeteria

The cafeteria was buzzing with students, the aroma of fresh coffee and warm croissants lingering in the air.

Alizeh spotted Aria chilling in the corner, sipping her latte like she owned the place.

She marched over, dropping her bag onto the chair beside her. “Spill, Now.”

Aria gave a fake dramatic sigh. “Mujhe pata tha tu mujhe maar dalegi.”

(I knew you were going to kill me.)

Alizeh crossed her arms.“ Girl I don't need blood, I need an explanation.”

Aria put her mug down and added .“Honestly. Mujhe nahi laga tha yeh koi bada deal hai.”

(Honestly? I didn’t think it was a big deal.)

Alizeh’s eyes went wide at Aria’s words, her voice rising with disbelief.“Bada deal nahi hai? Seriously? she shot back, her chest tightening as the words tumbled out. “ Ek banda jisse main Switzerland aane ke pehle deen hi mil chuki hoon —jo mujhe…” She almost blurted out, but biting back the word kiss (something Aria had no clue about). “Turns out to be professor of my class ? And my so-called bestie KNEW but didn’t bother telling me?”

(Not a big deal? A guy I had already met just a day before coming to Switzerland,  who me)

Aria winced. “Oops.” 

“Oops??” Alizeh snapped. “You have no idea how freaking dumb I felt.” 

Aria casually lifted her coffee, taking a sip as her eyes flicked towards her as she remarked. “Tu overreact kar rahi hai.”

(You’re overreacting.)

Alizeh shot her a glare.

“Thik hai, meri galti thi, Ab khush, my not so-called bestie.” Aria said, raised her hands in mock surrender, a teasing smirk tigging her lips.

(Fine, my bad. Happy now, my not-so-called bestie?)

Alizeh couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll forgive you this time… but make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she said.

Hearing that, Aria felt a wave of relief—she wasn’t angry anymore.

“Waise,” Aria leaned in, lowering her voice, “tujhe ek baat aur batani hai, taaki tu mujhe phirse ye bolne na aa jaye ki maine tujhe pehle kyun nahi bataya tha.”

Alizeh dragged her chair back and sat down, then narrowed her eyes at Aria’s question as she remarked, “Ab kya?” (Now what?)

Aria cleared her throat, suddenly looking everywhere but at Alizeh. “Woh… Maaz—mera boyfriend—”  She took a deep breath as she declared. “Woh bhi iss university mein professor hai.”

(He’s also a professor at this university.)

Suddenly, silence fell, stretching between them like a fragile thread.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Alizeh finally blurted out, “You’re not joking, right?” The words tumbled from her lips as her mind tried to handle all these bombshells dropping in a single day. “I mean… you’re talking about your boyfriend, Maaz, right?” she rushed out in almost a single breath.

Aria nodded hesitantly.

Alizeh stared at her, completely still.

Aria shifted uncomfortably. “Actually.” She hesitated, her lips twitching into a small smile. “He's a professor in my department too, just like Azael.”

Alizeh’s head snapped up. “KYAAA?!” (WHAAAT?!)

Aria held up her hands. “Look, I really should’ve told you, but I forgot.”

“Ek toh behan, tu ktna bhulti hai,” Alizeh said, teasing her about her habit of forgetting—after all, this was the second thing she’d forgotten to tell her.

(Seriously, sis, you forget so much)

Then she added with a playful nudge, “Pta chala, kisi deen, iss bhulne ke chakkar mein, tu mujhe hee bhul jayegi,”

(At this rate, one day, in all this forgetting, you’re just going to forget about me too.)

Aria had gone completely silent, her face wearing a distant, pouty expression.

Alizeh realized it was that usual habit of hers—something she always did whenever she made a mistake.

She turned to Aria and said, “Alright, now shut down this whole drama shop of yours.”

Aria lifted her face and stared at her, and Alizeh, in the same playful manner, stared back at her.

Then after a few seconds both of them burst out laughing together.

In the middle of the laughter, Alizeh asked. “Tu mujhe yeh bata, tujhe usse pyaar kaise hua?”

(Tell me, how did you even fall in love with him?)

Aria exhaled slowly, lifting her coffee mug and idly toying with its rim before speaking. “Pata nahi… pehli baar jab uska lecture suna tha, tab samajh nahi aaya ke subject pasand aaya ya woh khud.” she admitted, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

(I don’t know… the first time I attended his lecture, I couldn’t tell whether I liked the subject or him.)

Alizeh let out a short laugh, partly disbelief, partly teasing. “So you had a crush on your professor from the very start?”

Aria rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “At first, I just admired him. Love came later.” Her tone was light, but her fingers fidgeted nervously, betraying her inner embarrassment.

Alizeh smirked, leaning closer. “Yeah… you two are totally giving off ‘professor-student romance’ vibes.”

Aria gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Excuse me? That’s an accusation!” Her voice had a playful edge, though her cheeks warmed slightly.

“Not an accusation,” Alizeh said, biting back a laugh. “Just an observation.”

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

(I made the mistake of telling you, and now you’re just going to tease me forever.)

Alizeh leaned forward, her smirk widening. “ Ab toh mujhe yeh story full detail mein sunni padegi.”

(Now I’m going to have to hear this story in full detail.)

Aria groaned, pressing her face into her hands. “Why me?” Her voice was half-exasperated, half-laughing.

Alizeh chuckled, leaning forward with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Kyunki maine tujhse aesa kaha hai esliye.”

(Because I told you so.)

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 as she teased her. “Azael Khan.”

Alizeh’s face stiffened for half a second before she scoffed and casually picked up her coffee. “Speaking of him… didn’t his mom have surgery yesterday? How’s he still showing up to teach today?” 

Aria narrowed her eyes, catching the sudden shift in Alizeh’s expression. “Baat mat ghumaa. Pehle mujhe ye bta, 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 exhaled, exasperation clear in her voice. “Aria, clear the clutter from your brain and just answer what I asked.”

Aria smirked, shaking her head slightly, but finally spoke. “Yeah… he’s like that, I guess. But he really cares about his mother.

Alizeh hummed, processing that information, but Aria wasn’t done.

She leaned forward mischievously, eyes narrowing a bit as she spoke. “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, shut up and drink your coffee.”

Aria grinned, looking far too entertained as she took a sip. “Chal yeh sab chhod, tu yeh bata, achhe se shift ho gayi na apartment mein? Koi dikkat toh nahi hui tujhe?”

(Anyway, leave all this—tell me, have you settled into your apartment properly? No problems, right?)

Alizeh sighed. “Haan, bas thoda adjust karna pada, lekin ab sab theek hai.”

(Yeah, I 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, drawing more than a few curious glances from students.

The car rolled to a smooth stop right in front of the university gate, its glossy black surface gleaming under the evening sun.

The driver’s window slid down slightly, and a man poked his head out, scanning the surroundings as if searching for someone. Then, turning back inside, he called out, “ Bro, where’s your sweetheart today?”

From the back seat, a husky voice replied, “Wait, man, I’ll check,” as he swung the door open and stepped out.

Just then, two girls appeared at the gate. The boy’s eyes immediately landed on one of them, and he called out, “See you tomorrow, baby,” as he pulled her into a hug.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then teased, “Does your romantic mode ever turn off, Maaz?”

Yes, it was Maaz. Just a little while ago, the Audi that had stopped near the gate had Maaz in it, along with another guy, Azael.

Some time earlier, when Maaz and Azael were about to leave for home, Maaz insisted to Azael that he should take him to meet Aria first. After that, they would head home. This was because it was Maaz’s habit to always meet Aria before going home… but today, for some reason, he couldn’t meet her, so he insisted to Azael.

On the other hand, the other girl with Aria was Alizeh.

Right now, her full attention was on someone and that someone is Azael… and Azael also was looking at her with the same intensity.

Watching them, it seemed as if a silent competition was going on between them—like a challenge to see who could keep their eyes open the longest without blinking. It was that kind of scene.

They were staring at each other, unblinking, completely absorbed.

This game of unblinking stares between them went on like this for a little while.

Then, finally, Azael opened the door of his car and stepped out.

While closing the gate behind him, he leaned against the car the sun was just about to set. Its golden light fell directly on his face, almost as if the sun itself was kissing him. At that moment, he looked utterly captivating hot.

Other side, No one could say what magic had seized Alizeh today, for all her will, her eyes refused to leave Azael’s gaze—

or perhaps it was Azael himself, so attractive that looking away from his face seemed impossible.

Seeing her like that, a sudden, shy smile tugged at the corners of Azael’s lips. He shyly ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back.

Time seemed to stretch—each movement slower, more deliberate.

His eyes lingered on her, and as he tilted his face slightly away, the sunlight caught the strands of his hair, making them glow like fire.

The faint giggles of a few first-years broke through the hum of conversation, pulling Alizeh and Aria back into the present.

“Ugh… Professor Khan is so hot,” one whispered, eyes lingering on him just a little too long.

“Imagine having him as your professor… concentration would be impossible!” another added, biting her lip with a dreamy smile.

Hearing this alizeh felt an unfamiliar prickle of irritation settle in her chest.

What's this feeling? Why does that bother to her?

She didn’t even like him… did she?

Before she could finish that thoughts in her mind.

Huma, one of the girls from her class, confidently stepped toward Azael.

“Sir… can I take a selfie with you?” she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear,” she leaned her body just slightly, making sure he notice her. But his gaze once again fixed on Alizeh.

For a sec, it seemed like he might say no. Then, a mischievous smile curved his lips, and he nodded.

Watching that, a sudden, hot surge of something—rushed through Alizeh. She didn’t understand it… why it affects her this much.

“Sir… could you come a little closer? The picture isn’t very clear,” Huma said.

The moment she heard this her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag.

Her eyes follwed Huma as she beamed, lifted her phone, and raised it for the selfie.

Azael leaned in, just slightly… intentionally.

And just that small closeness sent a spark through her, a fire she hadn’t expected.

Click. The shutter sounded. Huma let out a dramatic, happy sigh.

“Thank you so much, sir… you have no idea how happy this makes me,” she gushed.

Azael’s small, knowing smile met her words, and he nodded gently.

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

Alizeh felt a sharp twist in her chest, sudden and unpleasant.

“Omg, he looks even better up close… you’re so lucky,” one of the girls murmured dreamily.

Alizeh exhaled slowly, irritation simmering beneath her skin.

Then, a familiar black sedan rolled up. Her car.

She turned to Aria, who was busy in her usual lovey-dovey mood, forcing her voice to stay calm and neutral as murmured, “I’m leaving… see you later.”

Aria blinked, reaching out, as if to stop her. “Wait! Why so soon?”

But Alizeh was already moving toward the car, her steps slow and deliberate, as if each one gave her a fraction of control over the whirlwind inside her. She didn’t know why she felt the need to leave, only that she had to.

Sliding into the backseat, she closed the door behind her, letting out a quiet, shaky breath. As the car pulled away, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror—just in time to catch a certain pair of blue eyes lingering on her for a heartbeat before finally looking 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 the girl 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. Why should it?

Azael Khan wasn't hers.

He is just a stranger she had met by accident. And now he is her professor.

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 Switzerland for for two days, and already, Azael Khan had turned her world upside down.

First, it was her silly idea to go to the bike race, which led to her best friend’s boyfriend kissing her… the sensation of his lips still lingered on hers as she thought about it.

And, this whole professor-student situation?

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.

So it's better for her to focus on that and

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?” He glanced at the wall clock as he spoke.

(Oh, my dear brother remembered me at this hour? Everything okay?)

Azael didn’t waste time as he spoke up.

“(Did Aria tell her friend?”

There was a pause. “Kis baare mein?” Maaz asked, understanding which friend of Aria he was talking about.

(About what?)

Maaz's question made Azael slightly annoyed for a moment, then he finally spoke,“ That I’m a professor at her university.”

Maaz paused for a second, then burst out laughing. “Hahah! Toh yeh baat hai.”

(So this is what it’s about.)

Azael understood why Maaz was laughing. Pressing his lips together, he said firmly, “Maaz, I’m serious, so better speak properly.”

Still grinning, Maaz replied, “Aria ne mujhe bataya tha Alizeh class khatam hone ke baad kese seedha usai call karne bhaagi thi. Bohot shock laga tha usse tujhe wahan dekh kar.”

(“Aria told me how, right after class ended, Alizeh ran straight to call her. She was really shocked to see you there.”)

Azael ran a hand down his face. “Bro, she was more than just shocked.” He said without a hint of emotion on his face.

Maaz chuckled. “Bhai, obviously. Usne socha bhi nahi hoga ki woh jisse itni interesting mulaqat ho chuki hai, wahi uske Switzerland ke second day pe uske class ka professor niklega.”

(“Brother, obviously. She could never have imagined that the person she’d already had such an interesting encounter with would turn out to be her class professor on the second day in Switzerland.)

The moment Azael heard Maaz mention the “interesting encounter,” his expression hardened as he remarked, “What I’m talking to you about, and where you’re trying to take it, Maaz.

Sensing the shift in his tone, Maaz hummed lightly. “Accha bhai, sorry.” He added “Tu ye bta, Jab usne suna ke tum uske professor ho, uska chehre ka expression kaisa tha.

(Tell me, what was her facial expression when she heard you were her professor?)

“Obviously shock,” he stammered.

Maaz’s excitement shot up. “Sirf shock? Ya kuch aur bhi?”

(Just shock? Or something else?)

Azael frowned. “What do you mean? Something else?”

“Bhai, pehle as a dare woh kiss… aur ab yeh professor-wala twist—matlab, kahin tumko—” Maaz drawled.

(And now this professor twist—doesn’t it mean you…)

“Maaz, not again.” Azael’s voice carried a clear warning—as he had already told him once.

Maaz’s playful grin faltered, but he didn’t push further. “Alright, leave it, bro.”

Azael exhaled deeply as he confessed, “I’ve only ever fallen in love once.”

A few moments of silence followed.

Then Maaz said softly, “Mujhe pta hai bhai, Main bas mazak kar raha tha”

(I know, brother. I was just joking.)

Azael didn’t respond.

After a few moments, Maaz cleared his throat. “Chal, kaafi raat ho gayi hai. Tu so ja.”

(Come on, it’s really late now. Go to sleep.)

Azael nodded slowly, almost ready to hang up, when Maaz’s voice cut in again. “Bhai, ruk… ye bata—Aunty ki tabiyat kaisi hai?”

(Brother, wait… tell me, how’s Aunty’s health?)

Azael drew in a long, heavy breath before answering. “She’s stable…Allah willing.”

Hearing this, Maaz felt a wave of relief. He exhaled softly. “Theek hai. Allah Hafiz.”

(Alright. Allah Hafiz.)

Azael responded quietly, “Allah Hafiz,” and ended the call.

For a moment, Maaz just stared at his screen, then shook his head with a knowing 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.

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