Haider
Jealousy had a taste—bitter, scorching, and impossible to swallow.
I knew I was being irrational. Knew that standing in the corner, gripping a glass so tightly my knuckles turned white, wouldn’t change anything.
But knowing didn’t make it any easier.
Ayza was in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people, her laughter ringing out like a melody designed to drive me insane. And right beside her—too damn close—was Zayan.
Again.
His hand lingered on her wrist longer than necessary, his head tilted toward hers, his smile too comfortable. And worst of all? She was laughing, tilting her head back, completely at ease.
Like she hadn’t spent the past few weeks tangled up in me.
Rage clawed at my throat.
I had no right to feel this way. She wasn’t mine. I hadn’t claimed her, hadn’t made any promises. And yet, watching another man touch her—watching him pull her onto the dance floor—felt like having my chest cracked open, my ribs pried apart, and my heart ripped straight from its place.
My jaw tightened.
I could handle a lot of things. But this?
I slammed my glass onto the table and pushed forward, weaving through the crowd like a storm ready to destroy everything in its path.
I reached them just as Zayan spun her around, his grip on her waist lingering a second too long.
That was it.
“Ayza.” My voice was sharp, cutting through the music, through the moment.
She froze mid-spin, her gaze snapping to mine. And damn it, the way she looked at me—wide-eyed, surprised, guilty—only fueled the fire inside me.
Zayan frowned, clearly unimpressed with my interruption. “Haider? What’s up, man?”
I ignored him completely.
“Ayza,” I repeated, softer this time, but no less commanding. “Come with me.”
She arched a brow, crossing her arms. “And if I don’t?”
I took a step closer, my voice dropping low enough for only her to hear. “Then I’ll make sure no one else gets to dance with you tonight.”
Her breath hitched.
For a second, neither of us moved. The air between us crackled, thick with something unspoken—something undeniable.
Then, with a dramatic sigh, she turned back to Zayan. “Guess I’m being kidnapped.”
He chuckled, completely unaware of how close I was to losing it. “Looks like it.”
I didn’t wait for any more words. I took her hand, my grip firm but not forceful, and led her away from the crowd, from the music, from him.
The moment we were alone, she yanked her hand away. “What the hell was that?”
“That?” I scoffed. “That was me making sure you didn’t let some idiot put his hands all over you.”
She blinked, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Haider, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to pull me away like you—like you own me.”
I took a step forward, closing the distance, forcing her back against the nearest wall.
“I don’t?” My voice was dangerously soft now.
She swallowed hard, her bravado faltering for just a second.
I leaned in, close enough to see the way her lashes fluttered, the way her breathing hitched. “Then why, Ayza,” I murmured, “did you let me?”
She had no answer.
Neither did I.
Because deep down, we both knew—she was mine.
And I was never letting her forget it.
