Hana’s POV

I came to my room feeling dejected. I had planned to celebrate Maan’s birthday with just the two of us. But now, he was going to celebrate it with his friends—and Ellen was there too. I didn’t want that. I just wanted him to be with me tonight.

“Allah, please do something... I want to spend some time with my husband. Is that too much to ask for a wife?” I prayed out loud with teary eyes and sat on the bed anxiously.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock on my door.

“Who is it?” I asked, a little harshly.

“Me,” came the voice from outside. I immediately recognized it as Maan’s. I stood up and walked to the door.

“Hm?” I said as soon as I opened it. He stood there, arms crossed, leaning on the doorframe, staring at me.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. I looked down and shook my head.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me. I saw your sad face at the dining table,” he said. I looked up at him, unsure how to express what I was feeling.

“If you saw it, then you should figure out what made me sad at the table,” I said, looking down at my hands as I nervously played with my fingers.

“Don’t, Hana. Don’t play games with me. You know I like straight answers. Yeh gol gol baatein mujhe samajh nahi aati (I don't understand this beating-around-the-bush talk),” he said in an almost threatening tone.

I stepped closer and stood in front of him. He silently stared at me.

“Don’t go! Don’t go to the party tonight—please,” I blurted out, looking directly into his eyes.

“Why?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

“Be...because...” I trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Give me a solid reason, and I’ll think about it,” he demanded.

“Um... wait until 12 a.m., and you’ll get your answer,” I said, hoping he would agree.

“Why not now?” he asked, clearly impatient.

“Har cheez ka ek khaas waqt hota hai” (Everything has its special time), I replied with a smile. A small smile tugged at his lips too.

“Hm... okay,” he nodded and walked away. I stood there, a mix of happiness, nervousness, and excitement swirling inside me.

Later, when I checked the clock, it was 9:30 p.m., which meant everyone had gone to their rooms. I hurried to the kitchen to prepare my surprise.

•••••••••••

At 11 o’clock, I returned to my room after finishing everything. I rushed to the washroom for a quick shower.

I came out wearing my special dress, did a little makeup, and styled my hair in loose curls. When I checked the clock again, it was 11:45 p.m.

I put on a long robe, covered my head with a scarf, and walked downstairs straight to the kitchen. I picked up the cake I had made for Maan and headed to his room, standing outside his door.

I was both nervous and excited. But for some reason, I couldn’t move. I stood frozen like a statue.

Hana! You can’t back off now! You can do this! Just say “Bismillah” and take a step forward.

Just as I was about to knock, the door swung open—and there stood Maan, already dressed to go out.

“You’re going?” I asked, my voice low and a little broken. He didn’t respond. But I knew from his appearance that he was headed to the party.

I thought he wouldn’t go after my request—but I was wrong. My eyes welled up. I looked down at the cake I was holding, and a tear slipped from my eye.

I was about to turn away when Maan held the hand carrying the cake. I looked up at him.

“I was going, but—” he started, but I interrupted.

“No, Maan... You can... go... Your friends are mo...more important than...m-me,” I said, my voice cracking, but I managed to get the words out. I turned again, but he didn’t let go of my hand.

“Maan... it’s okay...”

“Can you please let me finish?” he interrupted, clearly annoyed. I nodded. He sighed.

“Huh! I was going, but I never intended to leave without talking to you. I was coming to your room to ask why you stopped me,” he explained. Relief washed over me.

“Oh,” was all I managed to say as he continued to stare at me curiously. I became nervous again.

“So?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. I took a deep breath.

“Um... take this,” I handed him the cake and gestured for him to go inside. He did.

I followed him inside and closed the door behind me. He placed the cake on the small table and turned to face me.

“So... you wanted me to celebrate my birthday with you?” he asked, and I nodded.

“But we can celebrate tomorrow with the family,” he said. I turned my back to him.

“Uh... sometimes, and some things, are meant to be shared only between husband and wife... in privacy,” I said shyly, nervously.

“What are you implying, Hana? I already told you—mujhe yeh gol gol baatein samajh nahi aati (I don’t understand all this indirect talk). Tell me clearly,” he said impatiently.

“Uh...” I was about to respond when I noticed the clock—12:00 a.m.

I turned around and threw my arms around his neck.

“Happy birthday meri jaan (Happy birthday, my love),” I whispered in his ear. He wrapped his arms around me tightly.

“Thank you,” he said. I gave him a kiss on his cheek before pulling back.

Rumaan’s POV

I waited for Hana to bring her surprise, but she didn’t come—and it was already 11:50. My friends kept calling, and I was already dressed. I thought I’d stop by Hana’s room to ask her what the surprise was before leaving.

But when I opened the door, there she was—standing with a homemade cake in her hands. She looked different. Dressed in a long robe and headscarf, makeup with red lipstick... even fully covered, she looked stunning.

“You’re going?” she asked, clearly hurt. I didn’t reply. She stared at me for a moment, then looked down at the cake. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

She turned to leave, but I grabbed the hand holding the cake. She looked up at me. She said my friends were more important than her. And honestly... I didn’t know if that was true or not anymore. Hana wasn’t just some random girl, or a temporary girlfriend, or just my cousin—she had become something... more. I didn’t know what exactly, but seeing that look in her eyes broke something inside me.

So I told her the truth—that I never intended to leave without speaking to her. Her eyes lit up instantly, but she didn’t say anything.

I watched her, curious about what she was planning. She seemed nervous. When I tried to ask, she simply handed me the cake and gestured for me to go inside.

I placed the cake on the coffee table and turned to see her approaching me with small, hesitant steps.

“So... you wanted me to celebrate my birthday with you?” I asked, and she nodded. I told her we could celebrate it with our family, but she turned her back and said something that made me more confused and curious.

She said that some things should happen only in privacy between husband and wife. I stared at her, amazed. I didn’t understand what she was implying—and that frustrated me.

I asked her to be clear. She just turned around and threw her arms around my neck.

“Happy birthday meri jaan,” she whispered. My heart skipped a beat. I’d never felt this much joy from a birthday wish before. A wide smile spread on my face as I hugged her tightly.

“Thank you,” I whispered. She pulled back and kissed my cheek.

“Let’s cut the cake?” she asked, and I nodded. But just then, my phone rang again. I knew it was my friends.

I looked at Hana and cut the call. I can go after cutting the cake, I thought.

I walked to the table. She joined me, handed me the knife, and I gladly took it. I cut the cake while she sang a soft birthday song for me.

After cutting it, I fed her a piece, and she did the same for me.

“It’s delicious,” I complimented and took another bite. It was the best cake I’d ever tasted.

“I made it,” she said proudly, smiling brightly. Her smile made me smile too.

“Oh! Thank you... my multi-talented girl,” I said with a wide grin, pulling her into a side hug and kissing her cheek. She blushed.

“So... can I go now?” I asked after a moment of silence, and she quickly looked at me.

“Wh...where?” she stuttered.

“To the party... They’re still calling,” I said, showing her my ringing phone.

“Um... Maan...” she trailed off, and my phone rang again. Now it was getting frustrating.

“Hana, if you don’t have anything else to say, then I should go,” I said and walked toward the door. But as I opened it, she called out.

“Maan, wait—” I stopped and sighed.

“Hana, look... I—” My voice died in my throat.

My breath caught. My heart stopped. My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped.

There she stood—in a black lace, strap-knee-length dress. Beautiful. Hot. Absolutely breathtaking.

“M-Maan,” she whispered. Her voice brought me back to my senses. The first thing I did was shut the door and lock it.

She stood there, slightly trembling, eyes downcast. I walked toward her and stood in front of her, scanning her from head to toe again and again.

Her creamy legs, bare arms, shoulders, and her hair cascading down her neck—I nearly lost control.

“What is it, Hana?” my voice came out as a whisper.

“Uh... um... I...” she trailed off, visibly shaking. I stepped closer.

“What is it, Hana?” I asked again softly, tilting her chin up with my fingers and meeting her eyes. My breath grew uneven.

“Answer me,” I whispered. I already knew—but I wanted to hear it from her.

“Your birthday gift,” she breathed, looking straight into my eyes.

“You mean...” I began, but she cut me off and cupped my face with her soft hands.

“I want to give you myself—my heart, my soul, my body, my everything—for the rest of my life, as your birthday gift, Maan,” she confessed, her eyes moist, her voice steady.

I felt myself completely lost in her. I didn’t know what came over me—but I hugged her tightly, closing my eyes, unable to let go.

**************

Hana’s POV.

I did it. Finally, I did it.

I was so nervous to take off my robe, but just as Maan walked toward the door, a voice echoed from my heart:

“He is your husband! Nothing is wrong! It's halal to go in front of him like this!”

After agreeing with that voice in my heart, I immediately removed my robe and headscarf. I didn’t want him to go. That’s it.

I called him, and as he turned to look at me, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. I felt my cheeks heat up as I lowered my gaze. I didn’t know what happened to him, but he stood there frozen. After a few moments, I looked up and softly called his name again before glancing down, but then I heard the sound of the door closing... and locking.

I started shivering. My hands became sweaty and all the blood rushed to my face when I saw him walking toward me. Then he asked me what it was. But I couldn’t find the words to say.

He gently lifted my chin and looked straight into my eyes. I blurted out that this was his birthday gift.

As soon as I said it, he hugged me instantly, and I felt a tear escape from my eye. I didn’t even realize my eyes had filled with tears, but I didn’t care. I just hugged him tightly, wrapping my arms around his torso.

After a few minutes, I felt his hands gently tracing my bare back, sending shivers all over me.

"You look beautiful," Maan whispered in my ear and placed a soft kiss there before pulling back. His arms still wrapped around my waist, while my hands rested on his chest.

“So… this dress was in that parcel?” he asked, and I looked down shyly at my hand resting on his chest, nodding silently. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me.

“I don’t know how I look... but I know I don’t look like those beautiful girls like Ellen and the others you spent all those years with,” I admitted, my voice laced with insecurity. I knew I wasn’t that beautiful, but honestly, I wanted Maan to look at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Hmm... you're not looking like them,” he said, and I looked up at him, my heart sinking and my eyes burning.

“Hey... I mean, you look more beautiful than them,” he quickly added when he saw my tears. But I knew he was lying just to make me feel better.

“Don’t lie, Maan... I know I’m not that be... beautiful,” I said with a cracked voice, turning my back to him.

Before he could respond, his phone started ringing again, and dread filled my chest.

What if he leaves me for them? No, I can’t bear his rejection!

I heard him answer the call.

“Hello! I’m not coming.” With that, I heard the sound of him throwing his phone on the couch. I didn’t turn around.

I heard him sigh and then felt his arms wrap around me from behind.

“You’re such a crybaby, Hanu,” he said, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I’m not,” I whined and tried to wiggle out, but he held me tighter.

“Don’t think,” he warned sternly, and I stopped moving.

“Then don’t call me crybaby,” I muttered softly.

“Okay… You wouldn’t believe me if I told you you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, would you?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He chuckled softly.

“Then... tonight I’ll show you how beautiful you are,” he said huskily, placing a wet kiss on my neck, sending shivers through my entire body. He moved my hair from my left shoulder to the right and began running his fingers along my neck and bare shoulders. A cold wave ran down my spine. Then he replaced his fingers with his lips, kissing my skin gently. I closed my eyes and tilted my neck for him. He bit me lightly, and I gasped, then felt him nibbling the same spot he had bitten seconds ago.

“Maan...” a moan escaped my lips. He immediately turned me to face him. Cupping my face, he looked directly into my eyes and asked,

“Hana, are you sure? Look, I won’t be upset if you change your mind or want to stop… but I don’t want anything without your consent.”

His eyes were filled with concern that warmed my heart. A small smile appeared on my face.

“You have all of my consent,” I said, then stepped on his feet, leaned up, and held his face, kissing his forehead. He closed his eyes. I then kissed his nose, both cheeks, his eyes, chin, and placed a soft kiss on his lips before hugging him tightly.

He buried his face in my neck and kissed me there. My breath grew uneven from his closeness. He pulled back to look into my eyes, then at my lips, then back again, as if searching for another sign of approval. I closed my eyes, giving him my answer. And then I felt his lips on mine.

He kissed me slowly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer and kissing him back with the same softness. But the kiss quickly deepened, growing passionate. He held the back of my head with one hand and wrapped the other around my waist, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss.

We pulled apart when we were completely breathless, resting our foreheads together.

My eyes were still closed when I felt his fingers roaming my bare back.

“Maan,” I moaned as I felt his lips on my jawline. Then he gently pulled my hair and kissed my throat and collarbone. Suddenly, I felt him touch my locket and opened my eyes.

“This locket…” he trailed off, staring into my eyes.

“My wedding gift,” I replied with a smile.

“You still have this?” he asked, surprised, and I nodded.

“This is my wedding gift… given by my husband… and I will wear this till my last heartbeat,” I said proudly.

He smiled—his charming, beautiful smile—and leaned down to kiss the locket, then moved up to kiss my neck and bare shoulders. My knees trembled, and I gripped his shoulders tightly, afraid I might fall. But he held me tighter, as if he felt my shaking.

“Don’t worry… I’ll never let you fall,” he whispered, lifting me in his arms and walking toward the bed while locking eyes with me.

He gently laid me down and sat beside me. Brushing some strands of hair from my face, he caressed my cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“Hana… are you sure?” he asked again with concern. I smiled and sat up beside him, cupping his face.

“I love you with all my heart. I love you with all my soul. I’ve given you my heart, my soul, and my life, Maan. This body is nothing compared to what I’ve already given you… it’s just a formality, to show you that I am completely yours,” I said and pressed my lips to his.

He kissed me back, and before I knew it, I felt the mattress beneath me. He was above me. He pulled away quickly, looking into my eyes, but they held some unreadable emotion.

Maybe he still thinks I’m not ready.

So I started unbuttoning his shirt with trembling hands to show him I was. He froze for a second, eyes widening. I knew he hadn’t expected this from me. But I wanted him to know—I was ready. I wanted him.

Once I’d fully unbuttoned his shirt and touched his bare chest with my cold, sweaty fingers, he stiffened… then smirked.

“Eager much?” he teased, and my cheeks burned. I lowered my gaze to his chest.

He pulled back and took off his shirt, and a thousand butterflies exploded in my stomach. He looked so incredibly handsome—I couldn’t believe he was all mine. He came back on top of me, and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer and started kissing his neck, making him groan. He tilted his head back, savoring my lips on his skin.

“Hana,” he groaned.

“Jaan-e-hana (Beloved of my soul)… eager much?” I whispered in his ear, smirking as I placed kisses there.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes.

“You want to play?” he asked

“But now I want to play,” saying this, he pinned my hands above my head with a smirk. I looked at him with wide eyes.

“Leave my hands,” I struggled to free myself, but he shook his head in refusal.

“Maan,” I warned him, but his smirk only grew wider.

“Jaan-e-maan,” he whispered, and I stared at him with astonishment.

“What? If you can say jaan-e-Hana [beloved Hana], then I can also say jaan-e-maan [beloved Maan],” he said like a stubborn child wanting to compete.

I giggled at his statement, and he smiled too. But his smile quickly vanished, replaced by an intense gaze. Then, without another word, he crashed his lips onto mine. He released my hands and began exploring my body with his own. I entangled my fingers in his hair.

He pulled back slightly and buried his face in my neck, leaving lingering kisses. Slowly, he moved down to my collarbone, marking me with his love, and I cherished every second of it. I was so lost in him that I didn’t even realize when he undressed me—no, tore off my clothes—but I didn’t care. I was savoring every heartbeat, every breath, every moment with him.

I cupped his face, and he looked at me. I began showering his face with kisses, pouring all my love into each one.

“Uh... I love... you, Maan... I just love you... so... so much,” I said breathlessly, still kissing him.

He didn’t say anything. He simply stared at me for a few moments before gently holding my hands and intertwining our fingers.

And then... I became completely his, and he became mine. We became one. I gave him my heart, my soul, my body. I gave him all my love... I gave him my entire existence.

I loved him with all my heart, with every fiber of my being. I kissed his face again and again, whispering how much I loved him. I knew Maan didn’t love me—yet—but tonight, I realized I had carved a special place in his heart. I could feel his emotions—his heartbeat, his uneven breathing, his trembling under every simple touch of mine... everything.

I had loved him all my life. He had always been my everything. But tonight, I became his something—something I longed for him to admit one day. And I knew that day would come soon, when he would love me the same way I loved him.

“All mine,” he claimed, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“All yours,” I affirmed, hugging him tightly. A single tear escaped from my eye.

•••••••••••••••••••••