Chapter 117: Dinner with his family

"Assalam alaikum," she greeted everyone, and they replied in a shocked murmur.

They all stared at her, stupefied, with widened eyes. They hadn't expected Shehryaar to

show up with a girl and claim her as his fiancée.

"Come, daughter, sit," his grandmother called out, her voice tearing through everybody's

thoughts. After that, they settled in their chairs, with Sheharzaad next to Shehryaar. Her

eyes landed on someone almost identical to Shehryaar.

Gray eyes.

Chiseled jaw.

And next to him sat a girl. Timid. Shy. Scared.

Sheharzaad could tell by the way the girl kept her lashes down, not looking up even for a

moment.

"I will take an interview of you both, but first, start eating," his grandmother announced,

curious to know where he had met this beautiful girl.

Everybody began eating. She wasn't feeling hungry, though the food looked appetizing, but

her appetite was long dead as her ears were filled with his words of warning. To fulfill the

formality, she just took salad, and then her eyes landed on the girl's plate, who was eating

chicken roast. She didn't seem to be a fan of chicken roast but was still eating. Sheharzaad

could decipher tension between the girl and the man next to her. They appeared to be

husband and wife, and he was probably Shehryaar's brother given the similarity in their

features.

Sheharzaad wondered why no one else could see the tension between the couple, but then

she realized why. Maybe the girl was in the same shoes as her, which was why she could feel

the girl's predicament.

Her gray eyes then shifted to Shehryaar. And she wondered, was he always this

expressionless? Even in front of his family? She was passing him a side glance as he quietly

ate his food, but suddenly his eyes collided with hers. A volcano of nervousness erupted in

her as she immediately shifted her stare away and became stiff while continuing to poke at

her food.

Though I will surely ask you about the tiny attempt of escape you made, but it's not the right

time.

Everything was a blur in her memory, yet these words flowed, and when she felt his stare

still on her, without realizing it, her hold tightened on the fork between her thumb and

forefinger.

She could feel a thumping in her throat, so she parted her lips to breathe freely. In that

moment, she just wanted to break the stare he was giving her. Slightly tilting his head, with

his hands on the table, long lashes turned towards her.

"Where did you both meet?" his grandmother suddenly asked, and she breathed in relief

when his attention shifted from her to the elderly woman.

"She was my secretary," Shehryaar replied shortly.

"Oh, and when are you both getting married?"

"Soon," he answered and looked towards her, tucking some stray strands behind her ear,

while she just gave a slight smile. "She was excited to meet you all, so I decided to bring her

along and introduce her to you," he continued before retracting his hand.

"MashAllah, you are so beautiful. I must say, my son has chosen a very beautiful bride," his

grandmother said in her thick old accent.

"Thank you," she muttered.

"I am really keen to know you and Shehryaar bhai's love story," Dua said, and when

Sheharzaad moved her eyes toward her, she could feel a coldness in them.

"It's nothing special. We both got interested in each other, and then he proposed to me," she

answered shortly, cursing herself.

She had never lied in her whole life, and he made her a liar.

"And what did your parents say, daughter? Did they accept Shehryaar's proposal?"

"My parents passed away; they died in a car accident."

"Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. May Allah grant them the highest ranks."

"Amen."

"So where do you live then?"

"I share an apartment with my friend."

"If you want to, you can live here in this haveli. There is a lot of space here."

"No, no. I'm completely fine. Don’t worry about me."

"So, shall we start the wedding preparations, Shehryaar son?" his grandmother asked.

"Not so soon. I will tell you later. I have some work to deal with first," he said, and she

thought he was staring at her, but when she looked at him, his eyes were fixed somewhere

else.

Soon, the dinner was over. Shehryaar told her he would be back soon, and she just passed

him a nod, though she wanted to say he could take all the time he wanted to. Her eyes

drifted towards his sister, Dua, who called her to join her on the terrace as she wanted to

have a chit-chat with her brother's bride-to-be.

In the few minutes Sheharzaad spent with Dua, she deduced that his sister didn't like her.

She was passing her threats. Subtle threats. Even while discussing, she told her she was

aware of how Sheharzaad got the secretary's post. One warning she passed clearly was not

to play with her brother's emotions.

Sheharzaad didn't reply, keeping her stare on Dua with a frown. She wanted to spill the

truth about her brother's atrocities in front of her, but she didn't. She knew that Dua

wouldn’t help her, given the cold shoulder she was showing her.

Sheharzaad couldn't decipher the reason for Dua’s disdain. Well, in that moment, she was

the least of her worries, so she just let her talk until one of the servants came and informed

Sheharzaad that she should go to the car as Shehryaar would be joining her soon.

With her head bowed down, she was walking when she bumped into someone. Uttering

profuse apologies, she looked up to find a girl with brown eyes standing in front of her. The

same girl she had seen earlier.

Fear and paranoia were obvious in her eyes. She could see her face becoming slightly pale,

short of breath. For a moment, she thought she was staring at her reflection. She had always

wondered what she looked like when Shehryaar's devil would awaken to torture her. Now,

she was able to deduce it. This was what she looked like.

Afraid.

Fearful.

Scared.

Pale.

"I'm Zahra."