Hello my beautiful readers. I know you all waited for the chapter

I am really sorry for the short chapter today as i am sick and i didnt wanna write the chapter but becuz of your lovely comments i wasnt able to stop myself

If u guys complete the target of 30 comments and 200likes i will upload 2 chapters in the upcoming week

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Hamad's pov

The clock struck three as I wrapped up my second meeting of the day. My office was drenched in the soft amber glow of the descending sun, its light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off the polished mahogany desk. My sharp gaze swept over the neatly organized files before me, and without sparing another moment, I pressed the intercom button.

"Sharma, in my cabin," I commanded, my tone clipped and cold.

Within moments, Sharma appeared, standing stiffly by the door. His demeanor reflected both respect and unease, an expected reaction in my presence. I leaned back in my leather chair, the silent authority of the room weighing heavy on him.

“Stop looking for Luna,” I said flatly, my voice devoid of any emotion. The sudden command left him momentarily frozen, but I continued without pause. “I’ll find her when the time is right. For now, let’s focus on the marriage.”

A sinister smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, breaking the icy mask that otherwise veiled my face. I watched Sharma flinch, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes, but he quickly masked it.

“Prepare a schedule for me—a very tight one,” I added, my tone leaving no room for error. “And book me a flight to Russia. I don’t care how you manage it; just ensure everything appears perfect. and don't let my mom know about it Sharma, or you already know the consequences of it.”

The weight of my words lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding. Sharma nodded, his posture rigid as he muttered a brief acknowledgment.

“You may leave now.”

Without waiting for a reply, I swiveled my chair, dismissing him. As the door clicked shut behind him, I exhaled deeply, leaning back against the supple leather. My hand instinctively rose to pinch the bridge of my nose, as if the small act could ease the storm raging within me.

“What have you done to me, Luna?” I muttered under my breath, the words laced with a dangerous mix of frustration and obsession. My lips curved into another sinister smile, unbidden and unsettling. “Look what you’re making me do…”

I shook my head slightly, forcing the stray thoughts to dissipate, and refocused on the documents in front of me. My pen moved swiftly across the pages as I immersed myself in work, time slipping through my fingers unnoticed. The quiet hum of the clock echoed in the expansive room, a sharp contrast to the tension curling in my chest.

By 4:30, the sharp ring of my private phone pierced the silence. I answered curtly, my voice steady.

“I’ve arrived at the location you mentioned,” came the voice on the other end.

“I’m on my way,” I replied shortly, hanging up without waiting for a response. Rising from my chair, I grabbed my coat, the weight of responsibility and secrecy pressing on my shoulders.

As I stepped out, I glanced at Sharma, who was still occupied with his tasks. “Handle everything here. No one should know where I’m going,” I instructed, my voice a quiet but commanding growl. He nodded dutifully, though his curiosity was unmistakable.

I walked briskly to the parking area, waving off the driver who approached instinctively. “I’ll drive myself,” I said firmly, brushing past him without further explanation. He merely bowed his head, muttering a subdued “Ji, baba.”

Sliding into the sleek black car, I adjusted the seat and gripped the steering wheel, my fingers tightening around it. The engine roared to life, and I sped off, the cityscape blurring into streaks of light as I maneuvered through the streets with practiced ease.

The destination wasn’t far, but the journey felt like an eternity as my thoughts circled back to Luna. The mere thought of her ignited a surge of something raw and unexplainable—a dangerous mix of desire and fury.

Finally, I pulled into the driveway of my restaurant, the subtle elegance of the exterior a testament to my impeccable taste. I stepped out, the cool evening breeze brushing against my face as I adjusted my coat.The grand lounge of the five-star hotel exuded opulence. The velvet-upholstered sofas in deep emerald green gleamed under the golden light of the intricately designed chandeliers. Marble flooring stretched across the room, its veins of silver catching the light like delicate brushstrokes on a canvas. Every corner of the room whispered elegance — from the ornate gold-leaf mirrors that hung on the walls to the perfectly polished ebony table with delicate carvings. The soft hum of classical piano music drifted in the air, enhancing the surreal ambiance.

She stood up the moment I entered, her chiffon dress swaying slightly with the movement, the muted lavender of her outfit contrasting the bold hues of the room. Her features were poised yet hesitant, her eyes carefully guarded. "As-salamu Alaikum," she greeted, her tone polite, composed.

I barely spared her a glance as I sat down, my tailored suit immaculate, exuding power and control. "Wa Alaikum-as-salam," I replied flatly, my voice devoid of any warmth or emotion.

She sank back onto her seat, her fingers instinctively straightening the corner of her dupatta. Her gaze met mine, calm but curious. "It is the first time in six months you’ve called me and directly asked to meet. May I know the reason why, Mr. Malik?"

Her tone carried a sharp edge of sarcasm, but I chose to ignore it. Leaning back in my chair, I crossed one leg over the other, the soft leather creaking slightly. "Miss Khan, let me be very clear. I didn’t want to call you, but the situation has forced me to." My voice was cold, each word cutting like glass. "I don’t want this marriage. I never wanted it."

She gave a humorless laugh, shaking her head slightly. "Mr. Malik, being engaged to you doesn’t mean I want this marriage either. It’s a forced arrangement for me as much as it is for you. But why did you call me now? The wedding isn’t even close."

Her words struck me like a slap. How could she be so oblivious? My jaw tightened as I stared at her, studying her every reaction. I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a sharper, more menacing tone. "Inayah Khan, kya tum janti ho pandrah din baad hamari shaadi hai?" (Do you even know that our wedding is in fifteen days?)

She had been sipping water from a crystal glass, but the moment those words left my lips, her hand faltered. The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering into a thousand pieces against the marble floor. The echo of breaking glass seemed to pierce the elegant quiet of the room.

Her face turned pale, her voice trembling as she stammered, "Ye aap kya bakwas kar rahe hain? Mujhe is baare mein kuch maloom nahi hai!" (What nonsense are you talking about? I have no idea about this!) She leaned forward slightly, her eyes burning with defiance despite the shock. "Dekhiye, main aapse shaadi nahi karna chahti hoon." (Look, I do not want to marry you.)

I folded my hands in front of me, watching her struggle to collect herself. Her breathing was shallow, and the weight of the situation was clearly pressing down on her.

She straightened in her seat, the fire returning to her eyes as she said, "Mere paas ek tareeka hai. Isse aap bhi is shaadi se bach jayenge aur main bhi azad ho jaungi." (I have a way. This will save you, and I will also be free.)

The silence that followed was palpable, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. My eyes narrowed, intrigued yet wary of what she was about to propose. The shattered glass remained untouched between us, a stark reminder of how easily control can slip through one’s fingers.

Inayah pov

I was seated in my office, engrossed in reviewing some documents, when my phone buzzed with an unknown number flashing on the screen. Frowning slightly, I hesitated for a moment but decided to pick it up. The moment I answered, a cold, familiar voice spoke without any pleasantries.

"Meet me at 5:00 at [XXX location]," he said curtly.

My breath caught, and my fingers tightened around the phone. It took me a moment to recognize the voice, but when I did, I was stunned. Hamad Malik. For a second, I couldn’t even form words. My mind scrambled to process why he would call after six months of complete silence. Somehow, I managed to say, "Okay."

The call ended abruptly, leaving me staring at the phone in disbelief.

Just then, Maleeha walked in, her presence startling me so much that I flinched. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Kya hua tujhe? Bhoot dekh liya kya?" (What happened to you? Did you see a ghost?)

I scowled, shaking off the daze. "Pagal aurat, aise mat daraya kar," (Crazy woman, don’t scare me like that,) I muttered. "Mr. Malik ka call tha. Milne bula rahe hain." (It was Mr. Malik’s call. He’s asking to meet.)

Her eyes lit up, and she nearly squealed with excitement. "Kya? Jiju ka call!" (What? Brother-in-law called!)

I shot her an annoyed glare. "Mujhse zyada excited tu lag rahi hai. Tujhe pata hai na yeh shaadi meri marzi ke khilaf hai?" (You’re more excited than I am. You know this marriage is against my will, right?)

Maleeha shrugged, her grin still intact. "Haan, pata hai. Par tu jaa, mil le unse. Dekh toh sahi kya bolte hain." (Yeah, I know. But go meet him. See what he has to say.)

I sighed and nodded. She was right — I needed to know what he wanted. With that, I left for my boss’s cabin and requested a half-day leave. Thankfully, my boss was kind enough to approve it without much fuss.

By the time I reached the location, my curiosity was eating away at me. I had arrived early, at 4:30, and decided to call the number back to inform him. "I’m here," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I’m on my way," he replied, his tone as indifferent as ever, before cutting the call without waiting for a response. Such a rude man. Would it kill him to show a little basic courtesy?

I sat there waiting, mentally cursing his lack of manners, when I spotted a tall figure approaching me. His strides were purposeful, his presence commanding. There was no mistaking it — it was Hamad Malik.

I stood up and greeted him politely, "Asalamualikum."

"Walaikumassalam," he replied, but his tone was void of any warmth or emotion. Truly, this man seemed incapable of smiling.

I sank back into my chair, exhaling quietly. Meeting his icy gaze, I decided to confront him directly. "It is the first time in these six months you’ve called me and directly asked me to meet. May I know the reason, Mr. Malik?" My voice was calm, laced with a hint of sarcasm I couldn’t resist.

He ignored the edge in my tone, leaning back in his chair with the same detached air. "Miss Khan, main tumhe phone karna bhi nahi chahta tha, lekin haalaat ne majboor kar diya," (Miss Khan, I didn’t even want to call you, but circumstances have forced me,) he said coldly.

I arched an eyebrow. "Aur ye majboori kya hai?" (And what is this compulsion?)

His gaze hardened, and his next words sent a chill through me. "Main yeh shaadi nahi karna chahta. Kabhi nahi chahta tha." (I don’t want this marriage. I never wanted it.)

For a moment, I stared at him, stunned. Then a small, humorless laugh escaped me. "Mr. Malik, engaged hone ka matlab yeh nahi hai ke main bhi yeh shaadi chahti hoon," (Mr. Malik, being engaged doesn’t mean I want this marriage either,) I said dryly. "Yeh mere liye bhi zabardasti hai, jitni aap ke liye hai." (This is as forced for me as it is for you.)

He remained silent, his expression unreadable. I continued, my tone softening slightly. "Lekin ab aapne kyun bulaya hai? Shaadi abhi door hai." (But why have you called me now? The wedding is still far away.)

His jaw tightened, and the air between us seemed to grow colder. "Shaadi door nahi hai, Miss Khan," (The wedding isn’t far, Miss Khan,) he said, his voice sharp. "Humari shaadi pandrah din mein hai." (Our wedding is in fifteen days.)

The glass of water I was sipping slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. My heart pounded as his words echoed in my ears. "Kya bakwas kar rahe hain aap? Mujhe is baare mein kuch maloom nahi tha," (What nonsense are you talking? I didn’t know anything about this,) I said, my voice shaky.

He didn’t react to my shock, simply watching me with that cold, calculating gaze. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself. "Dekhiye, Mr. Malik, maine pehle bhi kaha tha aur ab phir kehti hoon — main yeh shaadi nahi karna chahti," (Look, Mr. Malik, I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it again — I don’t want this marriage,) I said firmly.

As I spoke, an idea suddenly struck me. A bold, reckless idea.

I leaned forward slightly, meeting his eyes with newfound determination. "Mere paas ek tareeka hai," (I have a way,) I said slowly. "Aap bhi is shaadi se bach jayenge aur main bhi azad ho jaungi." (You’ll escape this marriage, and I’ll be free.)

For the first time, a flicker of intrigue crossed his face. "Aur wo tareeka kya hai?" (And what is that way?) he asked.

I smirked slightly, the plan forming in my mind. This was my chance to regain control of my life.

I know the chapter was boring but my health is not well from one week so i am sry for uploading too late. Hope you all will understand my situation

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So what is cooking in inayah's mind

Will this marriage happen

Will hamad find his lunaa

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