"Miraal aajkal tumhara chehra chamakne laga hai, Kahi mohabbat toh nahi hogi Khan se?" Zubiya teased, they were laying on the bed, their bodies relaxed, and Miraal held her bandaged hand close to her chest. It was a small injury, a mere prick, but Abraar had meticulously wrapped her entire hand in the bandage. She didn't want to make him feel foolish for the extra care he had taken, so she went along with it. She relished in the tender touch of his hands, treating her as delicately as if she were a fragile doll. She found solace in his choice of words, addressing her as 'Aap' instead of 'tum,' a sign of respect and a touch of old-world charm.

Abraar was not what Miraal had initially imagined him to be. He defied her preconceived notions, and in a way, she appreciated his raw authenticity. He wasn't a savior or a saint, as he had corrected her when she had called him a messiah. He was a man of the streets, well-read and street-smart, unafraid to resort to violence when necessary. Patience wasn't his strongest virtue, as evidenced by his refusal to tolerate Rukhsana Chachi's antics.

"Mohabbat kahaniyon mein hoti hai, Zubiya, ye sab shayari mai accha lagta hai. Asal m insaan us insaan ki taraf khicha chala jaata hai jinse unko koi faida hota hai.(All this poetry and romanticism is charming, but in reality, people are drawn to those who offer them some benefit)" Miraal remarked, turning towards Zubiya, who couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Miraal, Qur'an m bhi mohabbat ka Zikar hai, Har insaan ek rooh se paida hua hai jo phir mard aur aurat m muntashir ho gaya, har ek ke liye uska apna soulmate bana... (Miraal, even the Quran speaks of love. Every person is born with a soul that later manifests as a man or a woman. And for each individual, there is a companion destined to be by their side. Some call it a soulmate)," Zubiya preached, trying to make Miraal understand her own feelings. Was Miraal simply unaware or guarding her heart against the unknown?

Miraal raised her hands in surrender as Zubiya recited the verse from the Qur'an. "Theek hai m maanti hu, hosakta hai aisa, magar Khan mere soulmate nahi huey toh? Unse dil lagakar sirf takleef hogi mujhe aur kuch nahi. (Alright, I understand. It's possible, but what if Khan is not my soulmate? If I fall for him, it will only bring me pain and nothing more)" she confessed, her voice laced with uncertainty.

"Ya Allah! Miraal tumhara kuch nahi ho sakta" (Miraal, you are impossible) Zubiya exclaimed, exasperated, and turned to face the other side, ready to fall into the arms of sleep. Meanwhile, Miraal remained wide awake, her mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts. She knew she owed Abraar a great deal, for he had single-handedly transformed her life within a matter of days. As Zubiya slept peacefully beside her, Miraal pondered her next course of action, contemplating the path her heart was inevitably leading her towards.

___

It was drizzling slightly when Miraal woke up the next morning, a smile lit up on her face as she went to the balcony, the smell of fresh soil was in the air, the trees were swaying that's when Miraal saw the Sun hiding behind the clouds.

It was going to rain...

The atmosphere itself made her excited, the trees swayed as it drizzled. The road was wet, there were little puddles on the road, she could see how green it looked every where.

She wanted to dance in the rain, it was her hobby as Miraal went down she saw the same happiness on Mai's face.

"Kitna accha mausam haina...", she squealed sitting on the counter as Mai smiled happily. "Haana Bibi, shaam tak shayad baarish hojaye. Abhi pura hafta yahi mausam rehega, aapko tarah ke tarah soup pilaungi", Mai replied as she peeled the onions.

(The weather is so beautiful...)
(Yes Bibi...Maybe it will rain till evening. It would rain the entire week, I have thought making different kinds of soup for you, for the entire week)

Miraal's smile disappeared as she broke eye contact with Mai, glancing at her hands, she said "Mere exams do hafte baad shuru ho rahey hain... Maine socha hai kal subha ghar chali jai (My exams will began after two weeks... I have thought about going back to my home tomorrow morning)"

Mai stopped cutting the onions and turned to Miraal, "Aapki yaad aayegi Bibi, itne saal baad iss ghar m koi ladki aayi thi. Khan bhi aapke aaney par khush rehne lagey hai... Allah karey aap jald hi yaha humari Khaani bankar aajaye (I will miss you Bibi, after such a long time a girl had came to our home. Even Khan had started warming up... Hopefully you will enter this home soon as our Khaani)

"Mujhe bhi aapki bohot yaad aayegi (I will miss you too)", Miraal hugged her, Mai had a motherly aura. She made people around her calm just with her presence.

Miraal avoided mentioning Abraar's name, why would he miss her? It had been hardly a week, since they met. Zubiya and Mai were making her dream for no reason, she knew how it felt when the dream had shattered. When Abraar had told her he had no idea about the engagement. She didn't blame him, but her hopes were crushed.

As a teenager Miraal had written so many letters for him, waiting for Mukhtar Khan to return with her fiance. The person she heard about all her life, her entire moholla (locality) knew about Abraar Khan. When she would travel by local buses she would often ask the conductor if they knew about him, thinking about it now it was cringe worthy. She was bragging about a person who had no idea about her existence, she had barged into his life as if it was her right.

She felt ashamed, " Mai, Khan ki favourite dish kya hai? (what's Khan's favourite dish?)" She asked, Miraal felt a little upset, she didn't wanted to leave this place. It felt homely, the people treated her like a family and in a week she already felt as if she had lived here for years.

At the dinner table, Abraar saw the Nihari being served , his eyes lighted up as he took a serving. Then another, and another, it was as if his hunger had consumed him. He felt eyes on him, Miraal quickly looked away. She started eating when Abraar said, "Mai Nihari bohot acchi thi (Mai, Nihari was amazing)"

A mixture of emotions swirled within Miraal. She felt a strange blend of pride and vulnerability. Pride in her culinary skills, but vulnerability because Abraar had acknowledged her effort.

Mai proudly replied, "Miraal bibi ne banayi thi aapke liye "

(Miraal Bibi made it, only for you)

The last two words lingered in the air as Abraar's gaze shifted towards her, his eyes filled with surprise and curiosity.

Abraar's eyes softened as he regarded Miraal, a newfound appreciation coloring his expression. "Miraal," he echoed, the words rolling off his tongue with a tenderness she had not heard before. "Nihaari kaafi acchi thi (The Nihari was delicious)"

A smile tugged at the corners of Miraal's lips as she locked eyes with Abraar.

The dinner continued in a tranquil atmosphere, the clinking of utensils and the sounds of conversation filling the room.

As the meal concluded, Abraar stood up from the table and approached Miraal. His eyes held a mixture of admiration and gratitude. "Miraal, mere liye Nihaari banane ke liye shukriya," he expressed sincerely. (Miraal, thank you)

Miraal's heart swelled with a surge of emotions. Miraal met Abraar's gaze and spoke with a touch of playfulness, "Khan agar aapko aur kuch pasand ho toh bas boliye. Miraal hamesha aapki khidmat mein hazir hai." (Khan Sahib, if there's anything else you like, just let me know. Miraal is always at your service.)

A spark of amusement flickered in Abraar's eyes as he laughed.

In the evening Abraar was at the terrace, he was admiring the rain when he saw Miraal slowly walking towards the garden. He couldn't see the expression on her face, but the way she walked was merry.

The scarf on her head slid down, and her long hair danced with the wind. She giggled and closed her eyes, letting the rain fall on her face. It was as if a spell, and Miraal started twirling as if someone was dancing with her. She didn't mind the mud, jumping into it. He had previously seen her smile, but today she was laughing all by herself.

Abraar's heart skipped a beat as he observed Miraal's carefree and joyous demeanor. The sight of her twirling and laughing in the rain stirred something deep within him. It was a moment of pure innocence and unadulterated happiness, a glimpse into the soul of a woman who had endured so much.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she plucked a rose delicately and tucked it behind her ear. The vibrant red of the flower contrasted against the dampness of her hair, adding an ethereal beauty to her already mesmerizing presence. In that moment, she seemed like a mythical creature, a muse that had stepped out of a poetic dream.

The raindrops continued to cascade around her, as if nature itself was joining in her dance. The sound of her laughter echoed in the air, creating a symphony that only Abraar could hear. It was a melody that tugged at his heartstrings, awakening emotions he had long suppressed.

Slowly, as if under a trance, Abraar descended the stairs and made his way towards the garden. He wanted to be closer to Miraal, to witness her uninhibited joy up close. As he approached, his steps cautious and filled with anticipation, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth radiating from within.

He leaned against a nearby tree, content to be a silent observer of her joy. The raindrops played a symphony on the leaves above him.

Miraal seemed so alive, so full of life, that Abraar couldn't help but be drawn further into her world.

As Miraal danced in the rain, Abraar marveled at her ability to find beauty and joy in the simplest of moments. She had a way of embracing life's wonders that Abraar had never experienced before. Her infectious laughter and free-spirited nature awakened a part of him that had long remained dormant.

Lost in his thoughts, Abraar couldn't help but wonder how he had been so fortunate to have Miraal enter his life. And now, as he watched her dance in the rain, he knew without a doubt that his heart belonged to her.

Abraar made a silent promise to himself. He would do everything in his power to protect her happiness, to be the reason behind her laughter and the shelter in her storms. He would cherish her, not just in her moments of vulnerability but also during her moments of sheer joy.

As the rain continued to bless the earth with its presence, Abraar decided to step out from the shadows. He wanted to be a part of Miraal's happiness, to share in her delight. Slowly, he approached her, his heart pounding with anticipation.

With each step, the distance between them diminished, until finally, he stood beside Miraal, his eyes gleaming with admiration. He reached out his hand, a silent invitation for her to join him.

Miraal turned to him, her eyes wide with surprise and delight. Without a word, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to guide her in a graceful dance under the rain-soaked sky.

__

As the magical moment ended, the two were left shivering, Miraal shrugged it off she was unbothered by the rain but for Abraar this was the first time he bathed in rain. And he regretted it a bit, he sat in his room blow drying his hair, while sneezing.

He felt cold, although he regretted it, he would do it again. He felt alive as the rain showered him, as he felt the cold breeze hit his skin, he stared at his reflection his nose turning red but there was a glow on his face. As if his soul was brought back to his body, he felt so alive.

"Mohabbat hogayi hai... Miraal se mohabbat hogayi hai."

As the words escaped his lips, Abraar couldn't help but smile, his heart brimming with happiness. He knew that this newfound love would change everything, Abraar took a deep breath and embraced the beautiful chaos that had entered his life.

"Miraal se mohabbat hogayi hai," he whispered once again, savoring the sweet taste of love on his tongue.

___

The two sat in the garden, sipping their coffee, just like they had done a week ago. But something had changed. Their bond had deepened, and the air between them felt heavy with unspoken emotions. As Miraal shared her news about her upcoming exams and her plan to return home, Abraar felt a pang of sadness deep within his heart. He had grown accustomed to her presence, her laughter, and her infectious energy filling the house. But he understood the importance of her exams and didn't want to burden her with his emotions. So he mustered a smile, trying to hide the disappointment he felt.

"Ye tumhara ghar hai, Miraal. Jab aana ho, aajana (This is your home, Miraal. Whenever you want, you can come back)" Abraar said, his voice filled with warmth and a touch of longing.

Miraal's eyes shimmered with a mixture of gratitude and a hint of sadness. She knew that Abraar had opened his doors and his heart to her, giving her a sense of belonging she had never experienced before. The offer to return anytime meant more to her than she could express in words.

"Aap bhi aayega mere ghar par? (You can visit me too?) " she softly requested, her voice carrying a subtle plea.

Abraar nodded, his eyes holding a promise. "Zaroor, Miraal. I will come to your home," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity.

The next morning, as Miraal prepared to leave, she felt a tinge of sadness knowing that she would be separated from Abraar for some time. She stood outside his door, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and longing. When Abraar opened the door, his gun pointing towards her, a playful smirk danced on his lips.

"Wishing me luck with a gun, Khan?" Miraal chuckled, her eyes filled with affection.

Abraar couldn't help but smile at her lightheartedness. He lowered the gun, ensuring it was safe, and leaned against the doorframe. "Good luck, Miraal. May you shine in your exams," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

Miraal's smile widened, her heart brimming with gratitude. "Thank you, Khan. Your support means a lot to me," she replied.

They stood there, a silent understanding passing between them. No words were needed to express the bond they had formed in such a short span of time, that had transformed both of them.

Finally, Miraal broke the silence. "Khuda Hafiz, Khan," she said, her gaze locked with his.

Abraar's eyes softened, reflecting a bittersweet emotion. He knew she had to go, but a part of him longed for her to stay. "Allah Hafiz, Miraal," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of fondness and longing.

With one last glance, Miraal turned to leave, walking away with Zubiya by her side. Abraar stood there, watching her figure disappear into the distance, a swirl of emotions inside him.

Miraal was sitting on the stairs, her sadness engulfing her as she gazed at the empty house. The weight of the world seemed to rest on her shoulders, and tears welled up in her eyes. The night was dark, mirroring her gloomy state of mind. She had avoided entering the house since her father's passing, clinging to the belief that he was still alive within those walls.

Her fingers traced the half-painted walls, a reminder of the plans they had made to renovate the house after her exams. Little did she expect that those plans would remain unfinished, just like her father's dreams.

"Baba... Aap ne mujhe tanha chod diya yaha" (Father... You left me alone here), she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. The sob escaped her as she covered her mouth, unable to hold back her grief any longer. She had not been able to sleep peacefully since her father's departure, and now the floodgates of her emotions opened, overwhelming her.

Miraal had always considered herself an independent and strong woman, someone who wouldn't break easily. She wanted to be her father's support, his sahara. He had sacrificed so much for her, rejecting lucrative opportunities in the city to always be there for her. He never remarried, remaining devoted to her.

She had made a vow to herself to be there for him until the end, to shower him with her care and love, and to make his old age comfortable. The main reason she had pursued a medical degree was for her father. She wanted to give him the best life possible. But now, her studies seemed futile. She couldn't help him or even have a final conversation with him.

She recalled the morning she left for college, her father urging her to have breakfast with him. In her haste, she left without giving him a proper goodbye. The khatya, where he used to sit, tie her hair, read her bedtime stories, and teach her, now stood empty. Miraal descended the stairs and sat on the khatya, tears shimmering in her eyes. She wished she had hugged him tightly, told him how much she loved him.

Closing her eyes, Miraal lay down on the khatya, her gaze fixed on the stars above. The beautiful night sky offered no solace to her pain. It had been almost a month since her father had sat there, wiping his spectacles with the end of his kameez as they shared their tea.

"Baba," she whispered before drifting into sleep, feeling the embrace of her father's love surrounding her.

The next day, Miraal returned to college, feeling an abnormality in being there. Her thoughts revolved around her father, and every time her friends asked about him, her voice trembled. She didn't want to answer their questions. Miraal thought she had moved on, but deep down, she hadn't. The Khan Haveli had provided her an escape, but now she was confronted with the harsh reality once again.

She met her professors, who bombarded her with pending assignments. She had two full journals to submit and six vivas scheduled for the following week, with exams looming ahead.

Miraal sat in the library until evening, studying relentlessly. She transformed herself into a nocturnal creature, dedicating her full attention to her studies. She wanted to avoid crying any longer. Her father would hate it if she shed more tears. She hardened herself, waking up early to water her father's flowers. The roses in the garden continued to bloom, thriving despite the lack of care. She trimmed the overgrown grass and pulled out the weeds.

In fleeting moments of peace, thoughts of a particular person lingered in her mind. A smile would grace her face as she reminisced about the moments they shared. Sometimes, while studying, she would close her eyes and his face would flash before her. Her hand would stop writing in the journals, and she would find herself writing letters to him. Miraal wondered if she was using him as an escape, a way to distract herself from her grief. How did he view her? Did he consider her a pathetic woman clinging to him? Did he think of her as much as she thought of him?

Miraal made excuses for every thought, rationalizing her growing attachment as a result of weakness. However, she didn't stop herself from writing those letters. They were not necessarily love letters but rather a montage of her feelings. She struggled to express her emotions, not wanting to burden him with her unwanted feelings.

She didn't want him to think that she had forgotten about him completely. So instead of posting letters filled with her emotions, she returned the bundle of money he had sent her as a form of help. That money had given her hope to escape from her difficult situation.

She decided to post the money back the next morning and returned to her studying. Zubiya's presence had also helped her in the healing process.

Abraar returned to the panchayat the next day, engrossed in his work. He had always been a workaholic, tirelessly dedicating himself to his responsibilities. But something had changed within him. The usual routes he took, which he never admired before, now caught his attention.

He glanced across the fields and stopped his car, captivated by the beautiful view. The lush green fields beckoned him like a moth to a flame. Exiting the car, he sat on the hood and admired the picturesque scenery. Lambs ran freely, and he found himself drawn to their innocent charm. Slowly, he approached one and gently petted it, feeling a sense of relaxation as he cradled the lamb in his arms.

Suddenly, his phone rang, interrupting the peaceful moment. Abraar released the lamb and stood up, answering the call.

"Khan, woh builders wapas aaye hain," (Khan, those builders have returned) the voice on the other end informed him. Abraar frowned and replied, "Main aa raha hoon, kisi gaon waalon ko dastakhat mat karne dena" (I'm coming, don't let any of the villagers sign anything).

"Asia Begum sabko bhadka rahi hai" (Asia Begum is riling everyone up), frustration evident in his voice. He wanted to shout in frustration but refrained, not allowing his emotions to control him. He disconnected the call and drove to the village.

A feud had been ongoing for years, with large businessmen attempting to deceive the poor villagers during election periods. They promised them a vision of a developed city with skyscrapers, attempting to take over their lands. Abraar never yielded to their schemes, so they resorted to sneaking around, preying on the villagers' vulnerability.

Abraar reached the panchayat, where villagers had gathered. As he entered, people greeted him, chanting his name with respect. He sat under a tree, paying no attention to the men in suits as he acknowledged the villagers.

"Khan, aap kheer khaane aayenge?" (Khan, will you come to have kheer?) Rabiya Begum, an elderly widow, approached him and asked. Abraar smiled and nodded, taking her hand in his as a gesture of respect.

"Khaala, aapke haath ki kheer hi toh khaane aaya hoon" (Aunt, I have come here for your kheer), he said with a warm smile. Rabiya's lips curved up, and she moved forward to place her hand on his head. "Allah tumhe hamesha khush rakhe" (May Allah keep you happy), she prayed sincerely. Rabiya had lost her husband in one of the atrocities committed by Mir Mahmoud. Mukhtar Khan had helped her survive and eventually regain her land.

"Meri baat suno sab, pachees saal pehle aise hi log aaye the, yaad hai na kabristan bhar gaya tha?" (Listen to me, twenty-five years ago, similar men came here. Do you remember when the graveyard overflowed?) Rabiya Begum's voice trembled, her hands shook as she recalled those horrifying days.

The villagers hung their heads, grief flooding their hearts as they remembered that fateful incident. Most of them had lost at least one family member due to the greed of the minister. They had witnessed their loved ones being shot or burned alive while they stood helpless. These men had forced them to sign papers, relinquishing their ownership of the land.

When all hope seemed lost, Mukhtar Khan stood up for them, fighting tirelessly for their land. A few years ago, the court had ruled in their favor, returning their lands. The wounds were still fresh, and their grief hadn't fully healed.

Abraar sat there, lost in his thoughts, as the argument continued. This feud had persisted for years, with these businessmen trying to exploit the poor villagers every election cycle. They promised them immense wealth in exchange for their land.

"Magar Rabbi Khaala, usko toh bahut saal ho gaye. Ye log pehle hi paise dene ko tayyar hai..." (But Aunt Rabiya, it's been many years since that incident. And these people are already willing to pay), Fatima intervened, expressing her frustration.

Abraar stood up, catching the attention of everyone, and helped Rabiya Begum sit in his place. He turned to the men in suits and asked, "Kya naam bataya tha aapne?" (What's your name?). Approaching them, he glanced at the man in the blue suit, who extended his hand with a smile. Abraar, ignoring the gesture, sized him up and replied, "Lawyers kahaan hai aapke?" (Where are your lawyers?).

"Sir, lawyers ki kya zaroorat hai? Papers hi hai bas kuch. Agar sab sign karde toh ek saal mein hi yahaan malls ban jayenge, luxury apartments, logon ke liye wedding halls, aur ek airport" (Sir, what's the need for lawyers? We have the papers with us. If everyone signs, we can have malls, luxury apartments, wedding halls for the people, and even an airport within a year), the man bragged.

"Aur ye luxury apartment kitna area lega?" (And how much area will this luxury apartment occupy?), Abraar asked. Yousuf Siddiqui, the man in the blue suit, casually replied, "Takreeban paanch sau square feet" (Approximately five hundred square feet).

Abraar chuckled sarcastically, his arms crossed over his chest. "Matlab itni zameen kaafi hogi?" (So you think that much land will be sufficient?), he asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

"Aap log paanch sau square feet mein pure gaon waalon ko shift kar denge. Aur badle mein unka poora zameen maang rahe ho? Ye kaisi deal hai?" (You expect to shift the entire village into five hundred square feet and, in return, you want their entire land? What kind of deal is this?), he questioned, humor lacing his tone.

"Sir, aapko pata hai das saal baad us apartment ki keemat crore tak jayegi" (Sir, do you know that after ten years, the value of that apartment will be in crores?), the man argued. Abraar countered, a smile playing on his lips, "Phir das saal baad issi zameen ki keemat toh arbon tak jayegi" (Then ten years later, the value of this land alone will be in billions).

The man attempted to argue, but the village sarpanch stepped forward and laughed. "Har saal election ke waqt hi humari yaad kyun aati hai aap logon ko?" (Why do you only remember us during election time?), he retorted, supported by the villagers. They escorted the men in suits back to their car before they left, with Abraar calling out the leader's name. The man turned toward him, and Abraar warned, "Agli baar meri maujoodgi mein aana, warna aaj toh maine jawab diya hai, agli baar meri goli degi" (Next time, come in my presence, or else my bullet will speak instead).

___

Abraar returned to the mansion in the village and came across the postman. He stopped his car and rolled down the window, inquiring about the origin of the letter, "Kahase chitthi aayi hai?"

(From where did the letter come)

The postman replied, "Hyderabad se" (From Hyderabad), and handed him the letter. Abraar couldn't help but smile, a fragrance emanating from the envelope. He raced to his room, eager to read the letter in solitude, wondering why it felt so heavy.

He sat on the bed and tore open envelope there was a bundle of notes. It unsettled him, why did she send money to him? He didn't need it, he wanted her letter.

There was a small chit, in between the bundle of money. The disappointment quickly turned into excitement as he opened the chit, it read "Shukriya Khan"

Shukriya. What for?

He groaned in frustration, not understanding her mindset. Here he was preparing his idhar e mohabbat and she was not done with her shukriya.

"Miraal! Kis mitti ki bani ho tum", he thought out loud.

(Miraal! What kind of soil are you made of?)

He couldn't let her fall into this misunderstanding, Abraar decided to pay her a visit soon.

____

On a serene afternoon, Miraal sat on the khatya (traditional wooden bed), placed on her terrace. She had books spread out before her, engrossed in her studies. The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she looked up to see Zubiya returning home. Zubiya had recently resumed her studies in Arts at college. She had always idolized famous personalities, and Miraal couldn't help but ask her about this fascination.

"Bachpan se lekar aaj tak, main in kahaniyon ke dam par badi hui hun, Khaala ka toh tumhe pata hi hai," (From childhood till now, I have grown up on the strength of these stories, you know about Aunt) Zubiya explained, her voice filled with admiration. "Choti Zubiya ko sahi aur galat mein farak toh in logon ki kahaniyon ne bataya. Main sochti thi ke Khala jaise Zoheb ko maanti thi, mujhe kyun nahi maanti? Mai bhi toh unki behen ki hi beti thi... Miraal maine aisi zindagi ke baare mein kabhi nahi socha tha jisme mai college se aaongi, hum ikhattey chai peeyenge, bina kisi darr ke" (From childhood till now, these stories have taught me the difference between right and wrong. I used to wonder why didn't aunt shower me with love? After all, I was her sister's daughter too... Miraal, I never imagined such a life where someday I could go to college, where I could enjoy my tea without any fear.)

Miraal listened intently, touched by Zubiya's heartfelt words. She felt a pang of guilt for not being able to share the same dreams and aspirations. Yet, she couldn't help but be happy for Zubiya and her newfound happiness.

"Waise, Miraal," (By the way, Miraal) Zubiya said, her tone becoming serious. "Hmm, bolo," (Hmm, say) Miraal replied, curiosity evident in her voice.

"Abraar Bhai nahi aaye?" (Why did Abraar brother not come?) Zubiya asked, her eyes mischievous as she nudged her.

"Tum Khan nahi bulati thi unko?" (Don't you call him Khan?) Miraal responded, diverting her attention back to studying.

"Ufff, tumhare honey wale shohar ko bhai nahi toh aur kya bulao?" (Ufff, if your future husband is not my brother, what else would you call him?) Zubiya teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Woh aisa kuch nahi chahtey," (He doesn't want that) Miraal sighed in frustration.

"Unka chhodo, apna batao... Tum chahti ho kya?" (Forget about him, tell me... What do you want?) Zubiya asked, her voice filled with anticipation.

"Sach batau?" (Should I tell the truth?) Miraal hesitated for a moment before continuing. Zubiya nodded, encouraging her to share her true feelings. "Ye baat hum dono ke darmiyan rehegi" (This matter will remain between us).

"Haan haan, humesha ke liye," (Yes yes, forever) Zubiya affirmed.

Miraal took a deep breath, gathering the courage to reveal her secret. "Maine do khat likhe hai unko, magar himmat nahi hoti post karne ki," (I have written two letters to him, but I don't have the courage to post them) she confessed, her voice laced with vulnerability.

"Khat mein kya likha hai?" (What did you write in the letters?) Zubiya inquired, eager to know the contents of the letters.

"...Tumhe bata nahi sakti," (I can't tell you) Miraal replied, her voice trailing off.

"Miraal, post kyun nahi kar rahi tum?" (Miraal, why aren't you posting them?) Zubiya probed further.

"Darr lagta hai," (I'm afraid) Miraal admitted, the fear of rejection palpable in her voice.

"Kis cheez se?" (Afraid of what?) Zubiya asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Khan ka dil bohot bada hai. Main unpar apne jazbaat musallat nahi karna chahti," (Khan has a big heart. I don't want to burden him with my emotions) Miraal explained, her words heavy with emotional restraint.

"Aur tumhare kya jazbaat hai?" (And what are your feelings?) Zubiya inquired, her voice gentle and understanding.

"Mujhe pasand hai Khan," (I like him) Miraal confessed.