PROLOGUE
Aayat lay on one side of the bed, her back slightly turned, her heart fluttering like a bird trapped between the ribs of hesitation and hope. The space between them felt wide, like it held all their unspoken thoughts, all the things they still didn’t know how to say.
She fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket, trying to calm her racing pulse.
Ayaan lay beside her — still, calm, but awake. His arm rested under his head, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, though his heart was entirely focused on her.
The silence stretched, soft but heavy.
Then came his voice — low, deep, and slightly teasing — breaking through the quiet like lightning in a still sky.
"Pass aa rahi ho… ya mein khud aao?"
(“Are you coming closer… or should I come to you?”) His voice was husky, smooth, and laced with warmth.
Aayat’s breath hitched.
She blinked once. Then twice. Heat rose up her neck, flooding her cheeks with intense color. She couldn’t speak. Her lips parted, but the words never came.
Ayaan chuckled softly, sensing her reaction without even looking.
He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of her flustered expression — her lashes lowered, her fingers nervously tangled in the bedsheet, her cheeks glowing red like rose petals caught in sunlight.
She buried half her face in the blanket, whispering, "Ayaan… please."
He smiled — not arrogant, not mischievous — but soft. Affectionate.
"Please… what?" he asked gently, his voice dipping even lower.
Aayat didn't respond. She didn’t need to. Her silence, her blush, her closeness — they were answers louder than words.
So Ayaan shifted closer. Slowly. Respectfully. Until the space between them wasn’t so wide anymore. Until she could feel his warmth — steady and comforting.
He didn’t touch her, not yet. He just whispered again, this time softer:
"I'm yours now, Aayat. You don’t have to be afraid of me anymore."
She closed her eyes, smiling shyly into the blanket.
And in that soft moment, filled with quiet tension and blooming trust, the distance between two hearts finally began to disappear.
Aayat still had her face half-buried in the blanket, the blush on her cheeks refusing to fade. Ayaan, now lying closer, rested on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching her with that familiar glint in his eyes — the one that meant he was about to say something she wouldn't be able to handle.
He smirked slightly, voice dipping into a soft, teasing tone.
"So... what should I call you now, hmm?"
She peeked at him through her lashes but said nothing.
He began listing slowly, dramatically, as if trying out names from a menu of love.
"Darling?"
She bit her lip. Said nothing.
"Sweetheart?"
She buried her face deeper.
"Baby?"
Her blush deepened to crimson.
Ayaan chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her.
"Begum?" he added with mock royalty.
"My Jaan?" he said next, overly formal, raising a brow.
She looked at him now, wide-eyed and horrified. “Ayaan… stop…”
But he wasn’t finished.
"Malayska..." he said dramatically, making the name sound like it belonged in a fantasy world.
"Heavens." He winked. "Because that’s where you came from, right?"
Aayat threw a pillow at him with a small laugh, her face glowing red, her heart fluttering uncontrollably.
“You’re impossible.”
Ayaan caught the pillow, laughing softly. “No, I’m just in love.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her shy smile. “Just call me Aayat…”
He leaned closer, just a whisper away, eyes sincere now—less teasing, more reverent.
"Then Aayat it is. Because your name has always been my favorite ayah."
Aayat blinked, stunned into silence.
And in that breathless moment — full of love, laughter, and unexpected tenderness — she knew…
She was falling for him. Completely.
PROLOGUE ENDED
