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Mashal's POV:

The morning sunlight filters through the soft curtains of my room, casting a delicate glow across the space. Today is the day. Maria and her family are arriving after a whole year, and my heart flutters with excitement and nervousness.

I sit up, savoring the quiet morning. After performing ablution, I spread my prayer mat and begin Fajr prayer. Each word and movement brings me a sense of calm, grounding me in the present. I take a few extra moments after the prayer, whispering duas for a peaceful day and a joyful reunion.

With the day ahead in mind, I head to my wardrobe. Instead of my usual outfits, today I choose something special-a soft, red colour cotton anarkali with intricate embroidery, paired with a matching white hijab. The outfit feels festive, fitting for the reunion. After a refreshing shower, I carefully dry my hair and tuck it neatly beneath my hijab, the excitement building with each step.

By the time I head downstairs, the house is alive with activity. Mumma is in the kitchen, making sure everything is perfect, and Dadu is sitting in the living room, smiling to himself, perhaps reminiscing about old memories. Bhai is, as usual, engrossed in his work, though I can tell even he is looking forward to the visit.

"Assalamu Alaikum, Mumma!" I greet her, stepping into the kitchen, where the smell of freshly cooked parathas fills the air.

"Wa Alaikum Assalam, beta. Excited for today?" she asks with a knowing smile, glancing at my colorful sharara.

"Very!" I laugh, helping her arrange the table. I focus on the joy of reuniting with Maria, my best friend. As the clock ticks closer to their arrival, my heart beats faster with anticipation.

As I help Mumma arrange the plates, my mind drifts back to Hassan. Would he remember me after all these years? Or even more pressing, would he come this time? I hadn't seen him in so long, and though we were never really close, there was something about his presence that made me wonder.

But then, I quickly shake the thought away, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. I shouldn't be thinking like that, I remind myself firmly. He's not my mehram.

I focus back on the task at hand, adjusting the flowers in the vase, as if concentrating on the details would chase away those stray thoughts. This day was about family, about the joy of reconnecting with old friends.

As I finish arranging the table, one of the maids walks into the room, a wide smile on her face. "Mashal Baji, they've arrived!" she announces with excitement.

(Translation: mashal sister)

My heart skips a beat. They're here. The air around me suddenly feels heavier, filled with anticipation and a little nervousness. I glance at Mumma, who gives me a reassuring smile as she wipes her hands on her apron.

"Go greet them, beta. I'll be right behind you," she says softly.

I take a deep breath, smoothing down my Anarkali and adjusting my hijab one last time. The door opens, and I can hear the lively chatter of Maria's family filling the house. My feet move on their own as I step toward the entrance, my heartbeat quickening with each step.

As soon as I reach the door, there she is-Maria, looking radiant as always, her eyes lighting up as soon as she spots me.

"Mashal!" she exclaims, rushing toward me for a hug.

"Maria!" I reply, a wide smile breaking across my face. The warmth of her embrace settles my nerves. We've always shared a special bond, and just seeing her again after so long makes me forget everything else.

Behind her, I catch a glimpse of her family exchanging greetings with mine. But my eyes instinctively search for someone else. Hassan.

I remind myself again, Stop it, Mashal. He's not your mehram.

But before I can fully convince myself, I notice him stepping out of the car, tall and composed, his expression as calm as I remember. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and I quickly avert my gaze, "Astaghfirullah" i murmur. Feeling a rush of warmth on my cheeks.

(Translation: "i seek forgiveness in god")

This is going to be an interesting day, I think, trying to focus on the moment at hand as I lead Maria inside, my heart still racing.

Hassan's POV:

The private jet lands smoothly, the soft hum of the engines fading, India. It's been years since I last set foot here. The air is warmer, thick with a sense of nostalgia that I refuse to acknowledge. I step off the jet, the sun high in the sky, casting a familiar glow over everything.

A driver hands me the keys to the SUV waiting for us, and I nod, taking the wheel myself. It's been a long flight, but driving feels grounding.

Maria is practically bouncing with excitement as she settles into the passenger seat. My parents, along with my aunt and uncle, are seated in the back, already immersed in conversation, talking about how much they've missed the Shah family. Meanwhile, my other brothers, sister, and grandparents are in another car, probably enjoying their own little talking session on the way. I stay silent, focused on the road ahead, though my mind strays every now and then to what lies ahead.

As the engine hums to life, I navigate through the streets, the city flashing by in a blur of colors and movement. It's familiar, yet distant, like looking at a memory you can't quite grasp fully. We're heading to the Shah home after so long, and though I've been mentally preparing for this reunion, there's a part of me that's still unsettled.

Maria keeps talking-about how much she's missed Mashal, about the messages they've exchanged in the months leading up to this visit. I nod occasionally, giving her brief responses, but my mind is elsewhere.

It's not just Danish that I'm thinking about, though I haven't seen my best friend in years. No, it's Mashal who lingers in the back of my mind.

I shouldn't be thinking about her, I know. She's not my mehram. But still, I wonder how much she's changed. The last time I saw her, she was younger, quieter, always in the background, wearing a soft smile that barely reached her eyes. It was easy not to notice her back then. But now...

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, shaking the thoughts away.

Maria laughs, at her thought already lost in her excitement, while I keep my eyes on the road. The anticipation builds as we near their home. The memories of this place, this family, begin to surface, but I push them aside. I am not the same person I was back then.

As we pull up to the house, Maria is out of the car before I even turn off the engine. I watch her run ahead, her excitement contagious, but I stay seated for a moment, taking a deep breath.

Then, I step out of the car, straightening my posture. My gaze drifts to the front entrance, where the Shah family is waiting. And there, amidst the familiar faces, is Mashal.

She's dressed in a bright red outfit, her hijab neatly framing her face. She's different, yet the same. Her eyes briefly meet mine before she quickly looks away, and I feel something stir in my chest.

Stop it, Hassan. She's not your mehram.

I take a deep breath and join my family as they exchange greetings, keeping my face calm, as always. It's just another family visit. Nothing more.

Or so I tell myself.

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