It was a long, exhausting day at college for Mahira. When her last class ended, she stepped out only to find the road choked with traffic — buses barely moving, cars lined up like frozen metal. She checked her phone anxiously; she hated being late.
Just then, she spotted Rayyan — her quiet classmate who always offered his notes with a shy smile. He lived near her colony and was waiting by the bus stop too.
She hesitated, then walked up to him. "Rayyan, the bus is stuck. Should we go by rickshaw? You live near my place anyway."
Rayyan's face lit up. He had liked Mahira from afar for months, never daring to speak much, and now she was asking him to come along. "Sure! Yeah, let's go," he said quickly, trying not to look too excited.
They found a rickshaw and settled in, bumping through the jammed roads, the city noise all around them. For Mahira, it was just a way to reach home faster — for Rayyan, it felt like a quiet dream.
Halfway through the ride, the rickshaw stopped at a crossing to pick up another passenger. Mahira looked up, ready to protest — but the next second, her heart sank.
Zayan stepped in.
He stared at them — at Mahira sitting beside Rayyan, their bags pressed together in the cramped seat.
Zayan's voice was calm but carried an edge. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you take the bus?"
Mahira forced a smile. "The bus was stuck in traffic… so we're sharing a ride."
Zayan's eyes shifted sharply to Rayyan. "Who's this?"
Mahira's pulse raced. Before she could think, the lie slipped out again — the lie that had become her shield. "He's my boyfriend," she said, her voice steady but her hands trembling slightly.
Rayyan turned to her, stunned. Boyfriend? He looked at Zayan, then back at Mahira, completely lost for words.
Zayan's jaw tightened. He forced a short, cold laugh. "Boyfriend? This one?"
Mahira needed to make it look real. Without warning, she grabbed Rayyan's hand and held it tight on her lap. Rayyan flinched but didn't pull away — too shocked to do anything except nod when Zayan's sharp eyes flicked to him for confirmation.
The rest of the ride was silent but heavy with things unsaid. Mahira's heart thudded in her chest — she could feel Zayan's gaze burning into her, then dropping to her fingers wrapped around Rayyan's.
When they finally neared their colony, Zayan leaned forward. His voice was softer, but the steel in it was clear. "Let go of his hand, Mahira. You're almost home — if someone from your family sees this, what will they think? You'll ruin yourself."
Mahira felt her throat tighten but she let go. Rayyan pulled his hand back awkwardly, still nodding as if he understood.
They got off near the main lane. Zayan paid the rickshaw fare without asking. The three of them walked together down the familiar street, the evening breeze carrying the weight of hidden thoughts.
Rayyan walked beside Zayan, quiet and tense. Mahira kept her eyes on the road, answering Zayan's questions with simple, forced calm. For neighbours, they looked like three old friends walking home — but inside Zayan's mind, a storm was gathering.
When they reached Mahira's house gate, Zayan stopped. His voice was gentle but his eyes stayed hard on Rayyan. "Alright. You can go now."
Rayyan muttered a soft goodbye and hurried off, still confused about what had really happened.
Mahira stood at her gate. She could feel Zayan's eyes on her, searching her face for cracks in her lie.
"Be careful, Mahira," he said, his tone low. "Some things… once ruined, can't be fixed." Mahira nodded once, avoiding his gaze. She stepped inside, closing the gate behind her, leaving Zayan alone under the streetlight — burning with the sight of her holding someone else's hand, his mind replaying that moment again and again
✨ End of Chapter Three