Unraveling

Muneeb watched Aira's expression shift—tight lips, stiff posture, eyes flickering with barely contained emotion. He knew that look. Someone had gotten under her skin.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So… you got into a fight with someone, my bewildered wife?" he teased, a smirk playing at his lips.

Aira's fingers curled around the book, her knuckles whitening. She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, but her emotions betrayed her. Before she could stop it, her vision blurred, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Muneeb's smirk faltered.

Aira hated it. She hated that her emotions were spilling out so easily, that his mother's words had shaken her so much. You're not the first girl who thought she could change Muneeb. The idea that she was just another name in a list of women, another passing phase in his chaotic life, gnawed at her.

She hastily wiped her tears, but it was too late. Muneeb had already seen them.

His chest tightened. He didn't do well with crying women. Not because he didn't care, but because he never had to deal with it before. No girl had ever cried in front of him—not that there were any girls in his life. His mother's words… they were a lie, meant to mess with Aira's head.

And now, seeing her like this, he felt something foreign stir inside him.

He moved without thinking, crossing the space between them in seconds. Before Aira could react, his hands were on her arms, firm but careful. Then, in a way that surprised even himself, he pulled her close—one arm wrapping around her waist, the other cradling her head against his chest.

Aira tensed, her breath hitching as she felt his warmth surround her. It wasn't just a hug—it was something deeper. Something protective.

Muneeb exhaled, his chin resting lightly against her hair. "Aira…" His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain.

She didn't respond. Her fingers had instinctively clutched onto his shirt, and she hated herself for it. She hated that she felt safe.

Muneeb didn't let go. He didn't pull away like he usually would, didn't make a joke to ease the moment. He just held her, letting her feel whatever she needed to feel.

After a long pause, he murmured, "Whatever my mother said to you… don't believe it."

Aira's breath shuddered. "I don't care."

"Liar," he whispered.

She closed her eyes, her face still buried against him. She didn't want to admit how much it hurt.

Muneeb's grip tightened. "There was never anyone before you, Aira."

She stiffened slightly.

He sighed. "No one. No girl, no romance, nothing. My mother said that just to shake you up."

Aira's fingers curled tighter into his shirt, as if grounding herself. "Why would she do that?" Her voice was small, vulnerable.

Muneeb smirked slightly, though there was no humor in it. "Because she wanted to test you. To see if you'd break."

Aira let out a shaky breath.

Muneeb pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her chin up with his fingers. Their eyes met—hers glossy with unshed tears, his unreadable, but undeniably intense.

"You don't break that easily, do you?" he murmured.

Aira swallowed, her heart pounding. She wasn't sure if he was asking or stating a fact.

But in that moment, something shifted between them.

And neither of them knew what to do about it.