Aira vs. The Household

Muneeb had barely touched his breakfast, sipping lazily on his tea while scrolling through his phone, his usual laid-back attitude intact. Meanwhile, Aira quietly ate across from him, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. He was undeniably charming, but his casual arrogance was something she hadn't expected up close.

"You're heading out early?" Aira finally asked as he stood up.

Muneeb adjusted his watch and smirked. "Business doesn't run itself."

She gave a slow nod, expecting nothing less. But his dismissiveness, his effortless way of making everything seem so unbothered, gnawed at her. He walked past her without a second glance, his cologne lingering in the air as the front door shut behind him.

As soon as he left, Aira found herself alone in the grand house, and boredom set in quickly. She wandered around, observing the lifestyle she was now part of—massive hallways, elegant furniture, and a household that seemed to revolve around Muneeb.

Sitting in the lounge, she crossed her arms and muttered, "Muneeb Malik, the great businessman, too important to have a real conversation."

She mimicked his voice, deepening her own dramatically:

"Business doesn't run itself."

"I thought it was better that way."

"I'm Muneeb. I have a fan club, and people adore me. How tragic."

She rolled her eyes. "Menace, indeed."

As the hours passed, Aira decided to explore the kitchen, considering preparing something, when she was interrupted by Muneeb's mother—her new mother-in-law.

"You don't have to act like a servant here," the older woman remarked, arms crossed as she studied Aira.

Aira straightened. "I wasn't—"

"You're Muneeb's wife now. There's a standard to maintain," his mother continued, her tone laced with authority. "I don't expect you to lower yourself to chores. There are maids for that."

Aira clenched her jaw. "I wasn't lowering myself. I was just trying to do something instead of sitting around."

His mother gave a sharp, unimpressed look. "I hope you understand that marrying Muneeb doesn't mean you get to do things your way. This is my house. My rules."

Aira wasn't one to back down, not even in front of Muneeb's intimidating mother. "I thought it was our house now," she said evenly.

A tense silence stretched between them.

His mother scoffed. "You might be his wife, but don't think for a second that makes you special. You're not the first girl who thought she could change Muneeb."

Aira's fingers curled into her palm. She didn't want to change him. She didn't even want this marriage. But she wasn't about to be treated like an outsider in her own home.

"With all due respect," she said, keeping her voice controlled, "I didn't come here to fight for my place. If Muneeb wants me here, I'll stay. If he doesn't, I'll leave. But I won't be treated like an intruder."

Muneeb's mother narrowed her eyes, clearly not used to defiance. "We'll see how long you last."

Aira exhaled sharply as the older woman walked away.

Great. Just great.

Now she had another reason to be irritated with her charming, too-cool-for-everything husband.

And he wasn't even home yet.

---

Evening: Muneeb Returns

By the time Muneeb's car pulled into the driveway, Aira had already made up her mind—she wouldn't say a word about the fight. Let him continue his easygoing life while she dealt with his family's attitude alone.

Muneeb entered, tossing his keys onto the counter. His presence instantly filled the space, but Aira didn't acknowledge him. She sat in the lounge, flipping through a book she wasn't actually reading.

He noticed the shift in the air immediately. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

Muneeb smirked, dropping onto the couch. "Liar."

Aira turned a page aggressively. "I said nothing."

His eyes scanned her face, sharp and observant. He could tell something was off, but Aira wasn't about to hand him the satisfaction of knowing.

Muneeb sighed, leaning back. "You mimicked me while I was gone, didn't you?"

Her fingers twitched slightly, betraying her.

He grinned. "Busted."

Aira clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to throw the book at him.

Muneeb stretched lazily. "Well, whatever happened, you'll have to tell me eventually. Or you can keep sulking—your choice."

Aira shot him a glare, and he smirked. He didn't know what happened.

But he would soon.