Chapter 3: His Inner Turmoil

•AMISH'S POV•

The night sky loomed heavy above me; stormy, moonless, and cloaked in rainfall. It felt like the only company I had tonight was the storm and my own solitude. Water streamed from my head to my shoes, soaking every part of me, masking the vulnerability I couldn't hide from myself anymore.

Tears flowed silently, as if they'd taken a vow not to stop. The last time I cried was when I first flew my solo flight but it was of happiness. Not out of helplessness and this weird pain, in my heart. I pushed the throttle on my bike harder. The pain wasn't leaving, and maybe speed would help me outrun it if only for a moment.

In ten hours, I will be married. My nikkah will take place, and I will become Feeha's, right in front of the woman who already has all of me. Her cousin. Irha.

It burns, more than anything I have ever felt. I pushed the accelerator again. At this point, I wasn't afraid of dying. What terrified me was the thought of living without her.

My grip tightened on the handle, knuckles white, as flashes from the mehendi ceremony stormed through my head.

Guests bustled around, some laughing in the buffet area, others applying henna. And in the middle of it all, there she was, my angel – popping her sixth gulab jamun into her tiny mouth.

I couldn't help but watch. I wanted to stare forever, but I forced myself to look away only to gaze back at her. I didn't want to be a creep again. After all, to her, I'm just her cousin’s fiancé.

Why would God bring her back into my life like this, only to keep her just out of reach? It’s like I'm being taunted, watching the one thing I cherish most be close enough to touch, yet never mine.

As an only child, I have always gotten what I wanted. Maybe I had to fight for some of it, but eventually, it all came my way. So why is Irha the exception? I know she isn't some prize to be won but she is the oxygen I need to breathe.

For twenty eight years, I never longed for love. Love was never my thing. But then she walked in like a gust of fresh air my lungs didn't know they were craving. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd fall hopelessly in love with a stranger, I would have laughed. But then it happened.

She happened.

One random day, she appeared wearing a floral frock, a pastel green guitar bag slung over her shoulder. Call me a stalker if you want, but I followed her. Left a major client meeting just to see where she was going. And I don't regret it, not even for a second.

Not now. Not then. Not ever.

She walked into a bookstore. Her smile lit up the space, doubled in brightness as she explored the shelves. I stood in a daze, captivated by a happiness that wasn’t mine but I wished it was.

She tiptoed to reach for a book, and I instinctively stepped in to help. Her scent hit me first – light, floral and unforgettable. She mumbled a soft "Thank you" and walked to the counter, engrossed in her new find. And for the first time in my life, I felt jealous… of a book. She gave it more attention than she had given me. Not that she even noticed me.

When I snapped out of my trance, she was gone. Just like that. I ran out, desperate to see her again but she had vanished.

I returned to the bookstore, hoping for anything. A clue, a trace. Nothing. It was like fate was mocking me. I didn't even know her name. Just those smoky eyes and that amazing smile.

As I passed the counter, I saw the book I had helped her reach.

"She didn't buy this?" I asked, pointing.

The cashier blinked at me like I'd teleported from another planet. Of course they wouldn't know. It's not like bookstores keep records of people's heartbreaks.

A year passed. A year. And she refused to leave my thoughts, like she already owned them. Maybe she did.

I searched everywhere. But what did I really know about her? Nothing. Except that I'd read her book more times than I could count. And don't even ask what it was. It's definitely not the kind of book I expected her to like.

Tauba Tauba.

"If you want gulab jamuns, go get them instead of staring at that poor girl" Azran’s voice startled me back to the present.

"I wasn't staring" I said flatly. He couldn’t know. Not about her.

"Sure" he drawled.

"By the way, I had your white kurta dry-cleaned. There were yellow turmeric finger imprints on it."

"Why would you do that?" I snapped.

He gave me a knowing look. "Because the last time I checked, my best friend cringes at even the accidental touch of a girl. Even your fiancee didn't get special treatment. So why would Irha?"

I clenched my fists.

"Azran, please" I muttered.

"What? Maybe she'll end up being your bhabi instead" he teased.

"Not happening" I said coldly. "She's like a sister to you. Remember that."

Azran grinned. "Impossible. I’ve already started hitting on her. Didn't you see? During haldi, and just now at the buffet?"

"What the hell…" I growled.

"Relax. Besides, we'd make a great couple" he said dramatically, with Ayaan nodding along beside him. Why the hell is he even agreeing?

"She's not yours" I snapped, my voice low but firm.

"Are you jealous?" Azran smirked.

"Yes" I said without hesitation. "Because she's not yours. She's — "

Before I could finish, guests approached. I forced a smile. Greeted them. Then more came. When they finally left, Azran leaned in.

"She's… what?"

"Nothing" I muttered, eyes drifting back to where Irha was giggling as she tried to lift Inaya. Her laugh? A melody my heart ached for.

"Aww, just look at her" Azran cooed. "She looks like an angel straight from heaven."

I clenched my fists. Again.

He moved toward her. I stayed back, stepping in after a while, pretending to grab water but I was listening.

"Why don't you get henna done? It will look beautiful on your soft hands" he told her.

I nearly gagged.

Irha replied, "There's no one to apply it. Everyone's busy."

"When I'm here, why would you need anyone else, sweetheart?" Sweetheart? This moron...

My grip on the glass tightened until it shattered in my hand.

Apparently, so did Inaya's.

"Break a few more while you are at it" Kabir taunted, not knowing I broke one of them, too.

I slipped away before anyone could see.

But Azran followed. "Amish, wait."

"What?" I turned, trying to act unbothered.

"Stop pretending. I know it's Irha."

I said nothing as we sat in a quiet corner. Ayaan appeared with a first aid kit.

"You are wrong" I lied. There was no point. What could I do with the truth? I had no future with her.

"You can lie to yourself, but not to us" Ayaan said softly.

"There's no point talking about this" I stood up. "I’m marrying Feeha tomorrow."

"You are not just ruining your own life, you are dragging Feeha into it too" Ayaan called after me while Azran stood silent, calculating something in his mind.

And I knew he was right.

But my mother’s words echo in my head, chaining me down. I'm bound by duty, tradition, and the weight of choices I never wanted to make.

•IRHA'S POV•

The Haldi ceremony had been a blast; laughter, music, vibrant colors, all of it magical. Typical desi wedding events. That was, until my clumsy self decided to fall, quite literally into trouble.

Everything had been going fine. The energy was high, the jokes were flowing, and we were all covered in turmeric. Though I stood away. But as soon as Aymen Bhai – our family's most mature, 'no nonsense' presence stepped out of the lawn, I seized the opportunity. Scooping up generous globs of haldi in both hands, I darted after Kabir.

"Doesn't matter, you deserve this!" I shouted between breaths, chasing him like a woman on a mission. Honestly, if he thought waking me up like that was okay, he had this coming.

I was really in need of a good sleep after the long flight and tiring day. And top on it, I chosed to sleep late since it's been years since we had a sleepover.

Kabir dashed toward someone probably hoping for backup but I, in my dramatic flair, lost balance and crashed into a figure I hadn't anticipated.

Instinctively, I grabbed the fabric of their kurta and squeezed my eyes shut.

No movement. Just silence.

I peeked through my lashes and found myself locked in a stare with deep hazel brown eyes, eyes that seemed to carry a thousand unspoken stories. I couldn't read them, and for some reason, that unsettled me.

What followed is a memory I'd rather not revisit. Let's just say my mood took a nosedive, and I didn't quite recover. As evening rolled in, the vibe shifted, it was time for the Mehendi ceremony. The girls gathered, excited, hands adorned with intricate patterns, laughter echoing through the lawn. Feeha sat at the center, radiant and in her element.

I watched her, smiled softly, then quietly made my way to the buffet. In my bad moods, I have two extremes, either I eat nothing or I eat everything. Tonight was definitely the latter. I popped another gulab jamun into my mouth just as Inaya approached.

"Babe, come on! Let’s get henna done" she said, fully aware it had been eight years since I last participated. I used to fight to go first. But things change, don’t they?

Henna ain't my thing anymore.

"If you don't come, I'm carrying you" she threatened, ever the youngest sibling, spoiled and bold.

"Oh yeah? Let's see who carries whom" I teased, lifting her a few inches before both of us collapsed into laughter.

That moment was cut short by a looming shadow behind us.

"Hey, sweethearts" came a familiar voice.

Wait. His sweetheart? When did that happen? Wasn't Inaya the one he usually called that?

"I thought you only called Inaya 'sweetheart'," I said, hiding a smirk. I could already tell Azran was up to something.

"She doesn't like it anymore. I figured, why not you? You don't mind, do you?"

This was getting interesting.

"Of course not" I replied smoothly. Honestly, I wouldn't even mind if he ended up being my other jiju.

Kabir strolled over, sensing drama and let’s face it, neither of us can resist a good show.

"Why don't you apply henna?" Azran asked. "It'd look beautiful on your soft hands."

Okay, not going to lie, he needs better lines. That one barely landed.

"There's no one to apply it," I said innocently. "Everyone's busy."

"When I'm here, why would you need anyone else?" he grinned. "Sweetheart."

Uff. That one hit.

Suddenly, I heard two glasses shatter. One was definitely Inaya's. I turned to find her fuming, trying to hide it while Azran sauntered off, whispering a quick, "Don't mind it" as he left.

"Aww, my sweetheart's jealous," I teased, wrapping an arm around her. She rolled her eyes.

"You both suck at this," Kabir muttered, earning a glare from me.

"Don't call me sweetheart" Inaya whined.

I burst out laughing. "We were just messing with you, babe." I pinched her cheeks as she finally gave in and smiled. Little sister is still in her denial era. Can't blame her though.

These siblings, they have been always unlucky in love. Kabir, we haven't spoke about it yet but Inaya, she definitely deserve a second chance to fall in love.

The night wound down. The Rehmans left for the night, everyone had too much to prepare for the next day.

As I headed back to my room, I bumped into someone I never thought I'd run into, not here, not now. She smiled. I mirrored her, though the air grew thick with awkward silence.

How do you start a conversation with someone you have not spoken for so long?

"Hey… hi" she said.

And despite the discomfort, I was strangely happy to hear her initiate a conversation.

"Let's go talk" she suggested, and I nodded, relieved.

We sat on the balcony swing. The only sounds were the faint hum of traffic and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

"Nice weather" I said, suddenly feeling like an introvert stumbling through small talk.

"I know, right? A lot has happened. We missed a lot. But can we… can we go back to being the old Feeha and Irha?" she asked.

And that's when I realized how much I'd miss that.

"We have always been the same" I replied gently. "We just… drifted. But let's not dig into old wounds. I'm just glad we're here now."

She nodded. "You seem really happy" I said, watching her face. I knew Feeha too well. Amish had to be the reason. If not there's no way that she would happily initiate a conversation with me.

"Yeah. Honestly, marrying Amish is going to be the best decision of my life."

I smiled. I truly hoped she'd found what she was looking for.

"I don't say it much, but I love him. So much."

Maybe arranged marriages do work. Or maybe it was a love marriage, and I'm just the stranger in the house who didn’t know.

"And he loves me too" she added.

"Well, tomorrow's your Nikkah. You should sleep. Staying up late isn't ideal" I said, wanting to keep talking, but also knowing I was exhausted.

"Well, Amish texted. He wants to meet me on the balcony." Oh so that's the motive behind this good happy conversation. One she needed a company until he reaches, next is that she wanna show me how much she's happy with him. Well, yeah.

They just saw each other a few hours ago, and from tomorrow, they will be together every day but hey, couple things. Not mine to judge.

"Oh, alright. I will head to bed then." I stood just as soft raindrops began to fall.

"You better sleep soon too. Bye. Good night" I said, walking back.

On the way, I saw Haroon approaching.

But I knew better than to expect anything. We were never allowed to be close. With Feeha, at least we used to bond when we were kids but Aymen bhai and Haroon, we were like strangers in the same house. Since childhood. As far as I remember, I have not even held Haroon ever since he was born. And with Aymen bhai, we were always distanced. Probably it would have been same before my accident as well.

That emotional distance was intentional, engineered. And now? It's just silent resentment. We never bonded, never spoke, never even smiled at each other.

Asian family rivalries, those invisible battlegrounds are worse than anything. And the kids? We are just puppets, dancing to the tug of strings we never asked to be attached to.

How was the chapter? Was there any scenes that you liked? Or a scene that made you feel cringe?