Chapter 1

Yousaf Villa was a sight to behold on the warm summer night of late August, its fairylights twinkling like stars in the evening sky. Inside, the lounge was abuzz with excitement and joy, filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the soft hum of conversation. Aisha, the beautiful bride, sat serene and elegant, her heavy red bridal dress a masterpiece of intricate golden embroidery that seemed to shimmer in the light. Her dark hair was tied in a sleek bun, covered with a delicate net dupatta with golden borders. Her eyes, cast downward in demure modesty, sparkled with a hint of mischief as her little nephew Aaliyan flitted around her, his curious gaze drawn to her again and again.

As the wedding contract was read, Aisha signed her name with a gentle touch, sealing her fate. Congratulations and sweet treats followed, filling the air with laughter and joy. Then, Mahir announced, "The groom is coming!" The ladies hastily covered their heads as Ibrahim, the handsome groom, entered the room with his brothers. But a surprise awaited him! Amina and the cousins had playfully occupied the sofa where Aisha sat, their faces mischievous with excitement.

"So what will it be?" Ibrahim asked, his deep voice tinged with amusement, knowing that this was no mere formality.

Amina smiled and said, "Ten lac." The groom's men thought it was too much and bargained, "It's too much! Lessen the amount." The girls countered, "Eight lac." The men protested, "He's a Professor, not a businessman!" The girls teased, "You're still giving money to the groom, so he can sit with his bride."

 After some banter, they agreed on 50,000/-. The groom's men handed over the amount, and Ibrahim finally sat beside Aisha.

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"Aisha, stop staring at him," Amina whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of laughter and chatter. "He'll be all yours for life, so save your gazes for then. For now, remember, you're a bride. Cast your eyes downward, and let the modesty of the occasion guide you."

Aisha's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she hastily looked away, her heart racing with a mix of emotions. Ibrahim, seated beside her, turned his head, attempting to catch her eye, but she had already demurely lowered her gaze, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.

"Why him?" she thought, her mind a jumble of questions and doubts. "I had hoped the name was just a curious coincidence, a quirk of fate. But now, it seemed, fate had other plans, and I was bound to this man, this stranger, for life." She silently scolded herself for not insisting on seeing the groom's picture when his family proposed the union. "I'll look at him then," she had said, confident in her decision, but now, the reality of her situation dawned on her, and she couldn't help but curse her own naivety.

As she sat, her elegant bridal demeanor a stark contrast to her inner turmoil, Aisha struggled to maintain her composure. Only her family knew the effort it took for her to remain still, her natural inclination to jump up and revel in the joy of the moment, to laugh and play with her nephews Aaliyan and Rohail, suppressed beneath her poised exterior. Her hands, adorned with intricate henna designs, clenched and unclenched in her lap, betraying her inner tension.

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Ibrahim finally relaxed after a long, exhausting day. Marriage wasn't easy, he thought, but it was worth it. He opened the bedroom door, wondering how to adjust to a new presence in his room. But he halted, taking in the sight before him.

Aisha slept soundly on the bed, her dress flowing around her. Ibrahim smiled, sitting beside her. "She must be tired too," he thought. "She fell asleep waiting for me."

He gazed at her delicate face, still wearing makeup. "I'm really lucky," he said to himself. "She's incredibly beautiful."

After freshening up, Ibrahim returned and carefully made space for himself beside Aisha, not wanting to disturb her. Little did he know, this was just the beginning of many sleepless nights - not for Aisha, but for him.

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The morning call to prayer, Adhan, woke Ibrahim up. He performed his ablution and headed for the door to go to the mosque, but he hesitated. He glanced back at Aisha, still fast asleep.

Ibrahim approached her quietly and gently touched her shoulder. "A...Aisha," he said softly, unsure what to call her. She responded with a sleepy "Hmm?"

"It's Fajr, time to pray," Ibrahim reminded her. Aisha rubbed her eyes, still half asleep, and got out of bed. She walked towards the left, her eyes still closed, thinking she was in her parents' home.

"The bathroom's on the right," Ibrahim corrected her, trying to stifle a smile. But it was too late; Aisha bumped her head on the wall, jolting her awake. She quickly headed to the bathroom, now fully alert.

Ibrahim chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He left the room, heading to the nearby mosque for morning prayers.

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After their brief interaction, Ibrahim and Aisha didn't have a chance to talk again. Ibrahim had already eaten breakfast and left to pick up his grandfather from the airport by the time Aisha came down. Later, when Ibrahim returned home, Aisha had already left for the salon with his mother, Laila, to get ready for the wedding reception.

Ibrahim was busy with other tasks and didn't have time to think about Aisha until his mother called, asking him to pick her up from the salon and bring her to the wedding hall. Ibrahim got dressed in his black suit and headed to the salon, using the address his mother had sent him. He had obtained Aisha's phone number from Laila earlier, so he called her. However, a feminine voice answered, saying "Wrong number" and hung up. Ibrahim was confused, wondering if his mother had given him the wrong number.

A few minutes later, Aisha emerged from the salon, still on her phone. "Aunty, where are you? I don't see you here." Ibrahim cleared his throat to announce his presence. Aisha looked up, still listening to Laila on the phone, and saw Ibrahim gesturing towards his white car. "May we?" he asked. Aisha nodded, and they drove in silence.

Ibrahim couldn't help but steal glances at Aisha, who looked stunning in the white wedding dress he had chosen for her. He had never seen her before, as their families had arranged the marriage, but he was drawn to her beauty. He tried to break the silence, complimenting her on her dress, but she didn't respond. He asked for her phone number, and Aisha looked at him for the first time, saying "Sure."

"I'm sure I called this number," Ibrahim said, recalling their earlier conversation. Aisha shared her number, and he confirmed, "It was you?"

"Did you think it was a prank call or someone else?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah, I did."

Ibrahim smiled, his dimples visible through his short beard.

Aisha's response revealed she didn't talk to strangers easily. The reception went smoothly, with only close friends and family members attending. After a tiring day, the newlyweds collapsed onto the bed.

Before sleeping, Ibrahim politely asked Aisha to change into casual clothes, concerned she might be uncomfortable in the heavy dress. While she changed, he joined the elders downstairs.

Meanwhile, Aisha's phone rang. She answered, exchanging greetings before her sister Amina's voice came on. "You didn't even cry yesterday," Amina teased.

Aisha defended herself, "How could I? I was in shock that you got me married to my professor!"

Amina burst into laughter after Aisha revealed that Ibrahim was also her Chemistry professor. "I suppose there will be romance in class now!" Amina teased.

Aisha felt furious and offended, cutting off the call and throwing the phone on the bed. "How can I see him as my husband?" she muttered to herself, feeling frustrated.

Later, Aisha called Mahir, seeking comfort. "Looks like you miss me already," Mahir said with a smile.

Aisha ignored his remark and asked to speak with his sons, Aaliyan and Rohail. Mahir obligingly called them over, and soon the three of them were laughing and chatting together.

As Aisha talked with the boys, her worries faded away. She forgot about Ibrahim being her professor and husband, and simply enjoyed the moment with her loved ones.

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