Aiman pov

I didn’t want to break down in front of her… so I quickly walked toward the kitchen.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks… after a couple of seconds, I began struggling to breathe… it felt like the next breath might never come.

I held on tightly to the kitchen counter… tilted my face upward toward the ceiling, trying to breathe.

For a long time, only silence surrounded me.

“It’s time to break the fast, please come quickly…” her voice called out.

I wiped my tears harshly, trying my best to compose myself before sitting down in front of her—though with my eyes lowered.

This wasn’t the first time we were breaking the fast together… but it certainly was the last.

The very thought made my heart pound uncontrollably.

I poured a glass of juice… and hurriedly pressed it to my lips.

I didn’t dare raise my eyes toward that cruel girl again…

Because I was afraid my eyes would betray me… they would reveal the truth of my heart to her.

To be honest… I thought if she ever came to know about my feelings… she would laugh at me.

She seemed so heartless to me.

I was the most handsome man in my entire family—fair-skinned, tall, athletic, educated, with a well-balanced mind… yet she had rejected me with the humiliating word “Uncle.”

How could I ever confess my love to her?

We ate in silence that evening.

I planned to pray Maghrib at the mosque and then head straight to my apartment… so I picked up my bag from the lounge.

Carrying my belongings, I walked toward the door without bidding her goodbye.

I was just about to open the door… when her question froze my steps.

“You’ll come to my wedding, won’t you??”

Her words pierced my heart brutally.

In that moment, I felt if I left silently, she would assume I had feelings for her.

So I turned back, forcing a faint, artificial smile onto my face. My heart felt like a mountain of stones had been placed on it, but still I spoke casually:

“If you invite me… of course I’ll come.”

This time, I didn’t avert my eyes. Instead, I looked straight into hers as I answered.

There was something in her eyes…

As if they held unspoken complaints against me…

Reproach…

Accusations…

But why?? I couldn’t understand.

I wanted to ask her…

“Alright then… I’ll personally invite you myself.and youpov:st come…” she said quickly, before I could voice my question.

I brushed aside every thought that tried to find a path toward reconciliation between us.

With a sad smile, I stepped outside.

-------💞💞💞💞

Aiman pov

Sometimes, certain words… certain moments… etch themselves into your mind forever.

No matter how much you try, you can never erase them.

I still remember that first slap from Sehrish Api.

No one had ever spoken to me harshly before… so why did she suddenly slap me?? I hadn’t even done anything mischievous.

Mama scolded her a lot that day.

That’s when I overheard things I couldn’t really understand at the time…

“Talk to Papa… Junaid sent a proposal for me, so how could Papa agree to Aiman instead?? Mama, this isn’t right. When Junaid and I love each other, then why did Papa accept for Aiman??”

“dear, try to understand… Junaid is still young. He needs to focus on building his future. We can’t keep you waiting indefinitely.”

“Mama, the proposal was for me, not Aiman. I like him, and I can wait for him. At least Papa should’ve asked me once what I wanted. The proposal was mine…”

She kept repeating those lines, sobbing uncontrollably.

I had just entered the kitchen for a glass of water… I had never seen Api screaming like that before, yelling at Mama with such intensity.

Mama kept trying to calm her… but Api only kept saying one thing:

“Junaid loves me, he’ll never love Aiman. One day, you’ll regret this decision…”

Those words engraved themselves on my young mind.

The sound of the water bottle slipping from my hands startled both Mama and Api. They realized I had been standing there.

“You witch… always ruining everything!” Api stormed toward me.

The spilled water spread across the floor… and in the next instant, she slapped my little face hard.

That slap—I could never forget it.

-------***💞💞💞

Api’s behavior toward me changed after that. She would start shouting at me whenever she saw me.

I couldn’t look at her without recalling that slap… and I’d run to Mama, Papa, or Amna Api for protection.

I stopped playing freely in my own house because of her.

Mama and Api often fought because of Junaid’s proposal.

Api would call me a witch.

It hurt me deeply. I couldn’t understand—what had I ever done to her that she hated me so much?

-----💞💞💞💞

One day, while playing in the street, my eyes fell on a shining face dressed in a white shalwar kameez.

I noticed he often wore white, especially on Fridays. He’d step out at Zuhr prayer time, his perfume subtle yet so refreshing.

He was my ideal.

All his friends would hide their laughter when they saw me.

“little Scrappy! How many times have I told you to play inside your house?? Don’t you understand??” Like always, he scolded me loudly in public.

“But I told you so many times… I don’t like playing dolls and tea party at home…” I replied nervously, forcing politeness—the hardest thing in the world for me.

He never knew… he was the only one who could yell at me like that and still receive respectful replies in return.

If anyone else had called me “Scrappy” or shouted at me like that in the street… I swear, they wouldn’t have gone home with their teeth intact.

“Go inside quietly and learn to play with the girls!” he ordered strictly.

“Alright, just a little more time… let me finish this game first,” I pleaded in a soft, swaying tone.

“Fine, five minutes. I’ll be standing right here watching you. End it quickly and go inside.” He crossed his arms and barked sternly.

That was the first time I felt… maybe he disliked me too, just like Api. He never spoke to me kindly like he did with everyone else.

****-----*****💞💞💞💞

When Api got married, I was overjoyed. I thought there would be no more fights at home.

But that was just my foolish hope.

For a month or two, she seemed happy… but soon her mother-in-law began troubling her.

The more her in-laws tormented her, the more she came home and tormented Mama and Papa.

Her constant complaint was:

“If I had married Junaid, none of this would’ve happened…”

Her husband was a kind, loving man. He even bought her a cell phone right after marriage. But instead of talking to him, she spent nights pouring her heart out to Junaid bhai.

I hated it. I didn’t like Api talking to him at all.

---------*💞💞💞💞

I won’t lie—studying was never my thing. But what could I do? That grumpy man forced me to sit with him for tuition.

“little Scrappy, if I give you chocolate, will you do me one favor?” He had caught me coming into his room to fetch my ball. His voice, unusually sweet, alarmed me.

“Something’s fishy… this grumpy uncle is never this nice without a reason,” my mind’s red light flashed a warning.

“No, Junaid bro, I don’t eat chocolates,” I lied smoothly. (When it came to lying, I was unbeatable.)

“Alright…” he seemed thoughtful. “Then I’ll give you whatever you want, but in return you must agree to one small request.”

His dazzling smile disarmed me despite my suspicion… and I nodded.

He lovingly held my hand, sat me on the sofa, and fetched a few books from his shelf.

“These books?” I asked nervously.

“Yes, they’re for you. I got them specially from the market.”

“But I already have so many books at home.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, pulling a face.

“I’m thirsty, let me drink water first…” I tried to escape, sensing his real motive was to teach me.

“Scrappy… study a little. Life isn’t only about games. Education matters too.”

“I don’t like studying.”

“Why not?”

“…What kind of question is that?? I just don’t! Is that a crime??” I sulked.

“Alright… just study once with me. Maybe you’ll like it.”

If it had been anyone else, I’d have refused outright. But this was Junaid bro… my favourite personality

“Okay…” I mumbled reluctantly.

His face lit up with joy. For the first time, he lovingly ruffled my hair.

And that one agreement became my life sentence.

I was too young to realize this grumpy uncle would never let me go after that. 🤧

----*💞💞💞💞

I first learned what “fiancé” meant when Amna Api got engaged to Kamran bro. A few months later, he came as a groom and took her away.

“Junaid bro, I passed my exams with good marks! Now where’s my reward? Remember your promise—you said you’d give me anything I asked.” I stretched my hand toward him eagerly.

“I remember… but your marks weren’t as good as I expected. So forget it,” he said coldly and walked away.

“Why is this grumpy uncle never happy?? Even after such good marks his face looks sour!” I muttered, stomping my feet.

----💞💞💞💞

As I grew older, I began to understand people better.

“What happened, why are you crying?” Mama asked gently when I came home, rubbing my eyes. Junaid bro had scolded me badly for spilling tea. I had controlled my tears in front of him, but Mama’s tenderness broke me down completely.

I’ve always been like that… I never let anyone see me weak when they yell at me. But the moment someone speaks kindly—I shatter.

I told Mama what had happened.

Everyone in the family knew how gentle and soft-hearted Junaid bro was. That he scolded me so harshly worried my parents—clearly, he wasn’t happy with this engagement.

But Papa stayed quiet, unwilling to upset (Paternal )Aunt

Sehrish Api, of course, added salt to the wound:

“Mama, Junaid loved a beautiful girl like me. He’ll never love Aiman.”

I began hating Api. She seemed less like a sister, more like an enemy.

---💞💞💞💞

“How dare you accuse Aiman like that, you bastard??” Danish shouted, defending me in the street.

“I’m not accusing… she really broke my car’s rear window!” he argued.

My reputation for mischief always betrayed me. If anyone’s car window broke, if someone rang a bell and ran, if a boy got hurt—blame always fell on me. As they say, "A bad name is worse than bad deeds."That was me.

But I swear, this time I hadn’t broken it. Still, the guy wouldn’t believe me.

“Alright, enough fighting. I’ll pay for your car window,” came the voice of that noble “uncle.” Of course, he had to show up, ready to fix a crime I hadn’t even committed.

“Come with me,” he ordered, gripping my hand firmly.

“But Junaid bro, why should you pay when Aiman didn’t even break it?” Danish protested.

“I know it’s her mischief… but dragging this fight further won’t help.” He declared firmly, certain it was my fault.

That’s when I realized he was no different from Api—always angry at me, always blaming me.

“One minute… please, just one minute,” I pleaded with innocent eyes.

He let go of my hand, confused.

And the very next second—I picked up a huge stone and smashed the car’s front window with it. It cracked instantly.

Now his anger was justified. So I stood silently for ten minutes, enduring his scolding without a word.

I’m a little wild like that. I can’t stand unfair scolding. Honestly—if it had been anyone else trying to cover for me, I would’ve smashed his head first, then the glass.

------*💞💞💞💞

“I want to study in 8th grade. I won’t skip ahead—it’s too hard! You already made me jump once, from 5th to 6th, and that ruined my result…” I begged that grumpy uncle to let me stay in 8th.

“No. 8th grade teaches 9th and 10th material anyway. Just jump ahead. And covering the syllabus is my job, not your problem,” he said firmly, raising an eyebrow.

“Not my problem?? I’m the one who spends nights writing cheat notes! How would a genius like you understand our pain? Writing all night makes my hand ache!” I whined.

“Who told you to make cheat notes?? If you study properly all year, you won’t need them. I used to read the book once the night before and still pass easily.” He adjusted his collar proudly, flaunting his brilliance.

“Yeah right. Cheating requires guts and formulas too—things boring, decent people like you don’t have,” I snapped back.

“Don’t glorify your laziness as courage,” he growled.

“Not everyone can apply the cheating formula at the right time. You wouldn’t even know how!” I boasted. “Want me to tell you the formula??”

He frowned. “Formula??”

“Yes—Formula! Copying × Brain ÷ Opportunity \= Pass.”

I was delighted—I had finally taught him something.

“Oh wait… I almost forgot to give you a love letter!” I smacked my forehead theatrically.

“Love letter??” He stared at me, shocked.

“Yes… here!” I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him casually.

His eyes widened. For a moment, he just looked at me… then quickly opened it to read.

“This is written by someone named Afrah,” he said, disappointment clear in his tone.

“Yes, Afrah Api wrote it,” I confirmed quickly.

“Who’s Afrah??”

“The girl at the corner house… Pappu uncle’s second daughter. She really likes you. Oh, and she said please give her your number.” I delivered the message honestly.

But for some reason, he got angry.

“Aren’t you ashamed, doing things like this??” he scolded.

I really didn’t understand this grumpy uncle. He got angry at everything.

If he could talk to Sehrish Api, why couldn’t he talk to someone else? Honestly, it would be better if he fell for another girl… it would shatter Api’s arrogant belief that he’d never forget her. And I wanted to see her arrogance crushed.

“Ashamed? Why should I be?? I didn’t write it,” I shrugged innocently.

“That’s the sad part…” he murmured softly, but I heard it clearly.

For a moment, I wondered if I had misunderstood.

He tossed the letter on the table and stormed out.

#To_be_continued 😊

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