"Spill the tea, spill the tea! Who was he? Who was he?" the girls chorused, their voices a mix of excitement and mischief, drawing amused glances from the nearby tables.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Look... first of all, he's not my husband."

Sophia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "So you do want him to be?"

I snapped my head up, shooting her a glare. "Excuse me?"

Aisha giggled, nudging Isabella. "She didn't deny it fast enough."

I groaned louder. "Listen to me, okay? Second of all, that was literally my third—maybe fourth—time talking to him, and he's even smugger than I thought." I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "Like, how is it humanly possible to be that insufferable?"

Yuki leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with interest. "And third?"

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Third of all, Zavian's just my father's best friend's son. That's it."

The table went silent for a beat. Then—

"JUST your father's best friend's son?" Isabella drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"Just?" Aisha repeated, eyes twinkling.

I scowled, realizing my mistake too late. "I didn't mean it like that."

Sophia smirked. "Then how did you mean it?"

I grabbed my glass of water, taking a long sip as I avoided their knowing stares.

Isabella gasped suddenly, smacking the table. "Oh my God—he's the childhood acquaintance! The family connection! The forbidden temptation!"

I nearly choked. "Excuse me—what?"

Aisha was grinning now. "You know what that means?"

"No," I deadpanned.

Yuki smirked. "It means we need to know everything."

I groaned again, sinking into my chair as my so-called friends launched into a full-blown interrogation, already planning my imaginary wedding while I mentally cursed Zavian and his stupid, smug face.

Just as Sophia was about to dive into another dramatic theory about my so-called fate with Zavian, my phone vibrated on the table. I glanced at the screen—

Zavian.

I stiffened. Oh, for God's sake.

The girls noticed immediately. "Ooooh," Isabella cooed, her eyes practically sparkling. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

Aisha gasped, leaning in. "Pick up! Put it on speaker."

I shot her a look. "Absolutely not."

"Come on, Iman," Yuki teased. "Don't keep husband waiting."

I glared at her before reluctantly swiping to answer. "What?"

A low chuckle came through the speaker, making my stomach flip. Oh, no.

"You sound mad, Mashal-e-Mehtaab," Zavian drawled, his voice lazily smug. "Let me guess. You're blushing, flustered, and currently being interrogated by your new little gang of gossipmongers."

My mouth fell open. I turned my head slowly, meeting the girls' wide, stunned eyes.

"How the hell—"

"Because I know you," he cut in smoothly. "And I heard them squealing in the background."

The girls erupted into chaos, trying to shush each other while muffling their laughter against their hands.

I clenched my jaw. "Why are you calling me, Zavian?"

A pause. Then, "I had nothing better to do."

I shut my eyes, inhaling deeply. This man.

"Good. Then go continue having nothing better to do." I moved to hang up—

"Don't," he said lazily. "You're fun to bother."

Aisha let out a very obvious awww sound. I shot her a murderous look.

"I'm hanging up."

"Hmm. No, you're not."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "You're intrigued, Mashal-e-Mehtaab. And maybe just a little disappointed that I didn't call for a reason."

I scoffed. "Trust me, Chiragh-e-Shab, you are not that interesting."

"Yet here you are," he mused. "Still on the call."

I almost threw my phone across the café.

Sophia giggled. "Okay, but he has a point."

Aisha nodded. "A very good point."

Yuki smirked. "The kind of point that says he's obsessed."

Zavian chuckled. "See, your friends have taste."

I groaned, gripping my temples. "Zavian, why did you call?"

He hummed, like he was debating something. Then, casually—

"What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"

I choked. "What?"

The girls lost their minds.

"Excuse m—? Why? Why would you say that?" I gasped, gripping my phone tighter.

Zavian, completely unbothered, let out a lazy hum. "Because I felt like it."

I blinked. "You felt like it?"

"Hmm."

I turned to my friends for help, but they were thriving off the chaos. Aisha had her hands clasped like this was the greatest romance novel ever written, Sophia was actually sipping her drink like she was watching a live drama, and Yuki? Yuki just smirked and mouthed, say yes.

Not happening.

I took a breath. "Zavian, I don't know where you got this idea that I have any interest in—"

"Oh, so you think I'm interested?" he interrupted, amusement dripping from his tone.

I froze.

This smug—

I sucked in a sharp breath. "You just asked what time to pick me up tomorrow!"

"So?" he said, as if that was irrelevant.

My eye twitched. "So, that implies interest, you idiot."

Zavian laughed. A full, rich laugh that made my stomach flip. "God, you're cute when you're mad."

The table exploded into gasps and screeches.

I wanted to hang up. I needed to hang up. But my brain short-circuited.

"I—You—WHAT?"

"You heard me, Mashal-e-Mehtaab," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Be ready at six."

And before I could gather a single functioning thought, the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, horrified.

Sophia slammed her hands on the table. "OH MY GOD."

Aisha clutched my arm. "HE IS SO INTO YOU."

Yuki smirked. "And you? You're doomed."

I groaned, dropping my phone onto the table like it had personally betrayed me. "I have my first day at university tomorrow! I don't even want to think about him after I come back, let alone go out with him after that!"

Aisha snorted. "Yeah? Tell that to your burning red face."

I scowled, pressing my palms to my cheeks. "It's not red."

Sophia leaned in, grinning like a villain. "It is."

"I hate all of you."

Yuki smirked, sipping her drink. "We know."

I groaned again, slumping back in my chair. "I'll just ignore him. He can't make me go anywhere."

Sophia raised a brow. "You sure about that?"

I hesitated.

Because, well... this was Zavian we were talking about. He was smug, persistent, and annoyingly confident.

But it's fine. It's not like he can force me.

Right?

My phone buzzed again.

Zavian: You can keep sulking. I'll still be there at six.

I gasped.

Aisha screeched. "OH, HE'S GOOD."

I shoved my phone under a napkin like it would make him disappear. "I'M BLOCKING HIM."

Yuki chuckled. "No, you're not."

Damn it. She was right.

_

That night, as I lay in bed, my thoughts drifted to my first day at university. Excitement buzzed in my veins, but so did a hint of nervousness. A new city, a new campus, a new beginning—it was thrilling yet slightly terrifying.

I stared at the ceiling, imagining the towering buildings, the lecture halls filled with unfamiliar faces, and the endless possibilities that lay ahead. Would I make friends? Would the professors be strict? Would I actually find my classes on time, or would I embarrass myself on the very first day?

I sighed, rolling onto my side.

And then, like an uninvited guest, his face popped into my mind.

Zavian.

Smug. Infuriating. Impossible.

I groaned, burying my face into my pillow. Why was he always there, lingering in my thoughts like some annoying background music I couldn't turn off?

Ignoring the way my stomach did a stupid flip, I reached for my phone, determined to distract myself. But just as I unlocked it, another message from him appeared on my screen.

Zavian: Sweet dreams, Mashal-e-Mehtaab. Try not to dream about me too much.

My breath hitched.

Oh, he was insufferable. Absolutely insufferable.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between ignoring him and sending back a scathing reply.

But then I huffed, locked my phone, and threw it onto my nightstand.

Not today, Zavian.

Instead, I pulled the covers over my head, willing myself to sleep, determined to focus on tomorrow—my fresh start.

Not him.

_

The next morning, sunlight streamed through my window, warming my face as I groggily blinked awake.

Today was the day.

With a deep breath, I pushed off my blanket and got out of bed, my nerves kicking in almost immediately. You got this, Iman, I told myself as I freshened up, slipping into a simple yet elegant shalwar kameez. It felt like home—comfortable and familiar, even in a foreign city.

By the time I headed downstairs, Amma was already in the kitchen, humming as she prepared breakfast.

"Good morning, beta," she said, handing me a cup of chai. "Nervous?"

I smiled, taking a sip. "A little."

She patted my cheek affectionately. "You'll do great. Just be yourself."

After a quick breakfast, I grabbed my tote bag, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped out into the crisp London morning. The university was only a five-minute walk away, the streets buzzing with students heading in the same direction, some chatting excitedly, others with their noses buried in their phones.

The moment I stepped onto campus, I was hit with a mixture of excitement and awe. Towering buildings, vast green spaces, and students bustling about, already forming little groups. So this is it, I thought, taking it all in.

I checked my schedule and found my way to the first lecture hall. The room was spacious, sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. I scanned the seats, searching for a spot when—

"Iman?"

I turned and found Aisha waving me over with a grin.

Relieved, I made my way to her. "Thank God you're here. I was starting to feel like a lost child."

She chuckled. "Welcome to the club. Sophia and Yuki have different classes, so it's just us for now."

I settled into my seat beside her, pulling out my notebook when my phone vibrated.

I hesitated before glancing down.

Zavian: Still surviving, Mashal-e-Mehtaab?

I exhaled sharply, my lips pressing into a thin line.

Of course, he couldn't let me have a peaceful first day.

I quickly typed back.

Me: Not now, Zavian.

A response came almost immediately.

Zavian: Not now? Does that mean you think about me other times?

I clenched my jaw, locking my phone before I lost my mind.

Aisha peeked at my expression. "Uh-oh. Who's annoying you this early?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "No one worth talking about."

But deep down, I knew Zavian was definitely going to be a problem.

The first year was structured around initial research, intensive training, and ESA—Early Stage Assessment. It sounded daunting, but for today, we were easing into things with introductions and getting familiar with our professors and course structure.

Our first lecturer, Dr. Patel, a sharp-eyed woman with an aura of quiet authority, introduced herself and went over the syllabus. She emphasized the importance of research, discipline, and, most importantly, collaboration.

"We don't work alone in science," she said, scanning the room with an expectant gaze. "Every breakthrough, every discovery, is a result of teamwork."

I exchanged a glance with Aisha, who whispered, "Translation: We're about to suffer in groups."

I suppressed a laugh and focused back on the lecture.

After an hour of introductions and briefing, we had a short break before our next session. Aisha and I made our way outside to the courtyard, where small groups of students had gathered, chatting animatedly. The crisp autumn air was refreshing, and I stretched my arms with a sigh.

"So, first impressions?" Aisha asked, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"I think I'll survive," I mused. "Maybe."

She chuckled, looping her arm through mine and steering me toward the café just around the corner. "Coffee first. We both need it. And maybe something sweet to celebrate our first day of suffering."

I let out a laugh. "Celebrating suffering. Sounds like something straight out of our syllabus."

The café was warm, cozy, and smelled of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries. Students crowded around small wooden tables, some hunched over laptops, others deep in conversation. A soft hum of jazz music played in the background, adding to the comforting ambiance.

Aisha and I joined the queue, scanning the menu overhead.

"Latte or cappuccino?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Hmm..." I pretended to think before sighing dramatically. "Something strong. Black coffee."

She snorted. "Trying to look all serious and broody?"

"More like trying to stay awake."

After placing our orders, we found a small table near the window. I wrapped my hands around my cup, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.

Just as I was about to take a sip, my phone vibrated against the table. I glanced at the screen, my brows pulling together.

Zavian: I'll pick you up at six. Don't be late.

I blinked. Excuse me?

Frowning, I quickly typed back.

Me: No.

His reply came almost instantly, as if he'd been waiting for it.

Zavian: Sweetheart, that wasn't a request.

I nearly choked on my coffee.

Aisha arched a brow. "What now?"

I huffed, shoving my phone across the table. She skimmed the messages before letting out a low whistle. "Oof. He's bold."

"More like insufferable." I snatched my phone back, my fingers flying over the keyboard.

Me: Try phrasing that like a normal human being who understands free will.

Zavian: Try accepting that I always get what I want.

I groaned, resisting the urge to chuck my phone across the café.

Aisha grinned, sipping her latte. "You know, for someone you claim to dislike, he sure knows how to get under your skin."

I glared at her. "He's a menace."

"An attractive one," she teased.

I scowled. Unfortunately.