The morning sun filtered through the high arched windows of the grand kitchen as Ayat finished helping the head cooks plate the lavish breakfast spread. Her hands worked with practiced grace, but her mind was still swirling in a daze from the night before. The electric touch of Haider’s hands wrapping her dupatta around her, the dark, suffocating intensity in his eyes, and the sheer possessive command of his voice—it had kept her awake long after the storm had cleared.

Excusing herself, Ayat slipped away to the staff quarters to check on little Zain. The baby was sleeping peacefully in his crib, fully changed and content.

Meanwhile, in the grand dining hall, the Khan family had gathered around the long table. Platters of steaming aloo ke parathe, bowls of fresh yogurt, and aromatic teas filled the center.

Mumtaz Begum looked around the table, a gentle smile crinkling her eyes. "Arey... kahan gaya woh nanha farishta, haan? Koi usey le kar aao toh..." (Where is that little angel, huh? Someone go bring him here...)

Before anyone else could respond, Idris, one of the twenty-three-year-old twins, grinned excitedly and pushed back his chair. "Mai le ke aata hu, Dado!"

"NO!"

The sharp, thunderous refusal slammed through the dining room like a crack of thunder.

The entire family froze. Spoons hovered mid-air, and every pair of eyes snapped toward the head of the table. Haider sat perfectly still, his muscular frame tense, his dark jaw clenched tight.

Last night flashed violently behind his eyes—Ayat standing in her dim room, her thick hair unraveled, her clothes unfastened, her bare, porcelain skin vulnerable as she nursed her child. The mere thought of another man, even his own young cousin, walking into her private quarters and catching her in that raw, defenseless state made a dark, possessive fury flare in his chest.

Not a chance in hell.

Realizing the sudden, heavy silence in the room, Haider smoothed his expression back into an unyielding mask of ice. His dark eyes flicked coldly toward the twins. "Tum dono ka exam aadhe ghante mein shuru hone wala hai, Dado. Inhein abhi college ke liye nikalna chahiye... varna late ho jayenge." (Their exam starts in half an hour, Dado. They should leave for college right now... or they will be late.)

The twins groaned in unison, sulking at the sudden reality check. Whining softly about their strict cousin, both boys quickly excused themselves from the table and hurried out toward their cars.

Just as the door clicked shut behind them, soft, hesitant footsteps echoed against the marble floor.

Ayat stepped into the dining room.

"Assalam-o-Alaikum... Good morning," she murmured in her sweet, honeyed voice, keeping her head modestly bowed.

The moment her melody fell into the air, the corner of Haider’s stern lips twitched slightly. His obsidian eyes locked onto her, completely incapable of pulling away.

Because she hadn't had time to buy her own clothes yet, Sakina Khala had lent her one of her simple cotton sarees. The fabric draped softly over Ayat’s delicate frame, accentuating her narrow waist and soft curves in a way that made Haider’s blood run dangerously hot.

Dado smiled warmly at the girl. "Aaliyah, bete... kya chote bachhe ne kuch khaya?" (Aaliyah, child... did the baby eat anything?)

A sudden, deep crimson heat rushed from Ayat’s neck straight up to her cheeks. Her eyes instinctively darted toward Haider, only to find him already staring directly at her. His pitch-black gaze was heavy, burning with the shared, filthy secret of what had transpired in the dark last night.

Ayat quickly lowered her eyes, her lower lip trembling slightly as she offered a soft, flustered nod. "Ji... Ji Dado, maine usey feed kara diya hai." (Yes... Yes Dado, I fed him.)

Mariyam Bibi, Haider’s mother, offered a approving nod. "Ache se khayal rakho uska. Har do ghante mein usey doodh pilati rehna, abhi bada hone wala hai tezzi se." (Take good care of him. Keep feeding him every two hours, he is a growing child.)

Ayat offered a timid nod, her heart hammering against her ribs.

What shocked the entire family, however, was Haider. The multi-billionaire CEO, who usually gulped down a single black coffee before rushing out to his corporate empire, was still sitting at the table. Not only was the strict gym freak sitting idly, but he was currently finishing his third stuffed aloo ka paratha, eating with a slow, deliberate pace just to prolong his presence in the room.

Mumtaz Begum looked over at Ayat, her tone full of maternal warmth. "Aaliyah, kal raat Zain ke liye saman mil gaya tha na?"

"Ji Dado, sab mil gaya tha," Ayat replied softly.

"Acha hai. Aaj driver ke sath market chali jana... aur apne aur Zain ke liye jo bhi kapde aur zaroorat ka saman chahiye, sab le aana." (Good. Go to the market with the driver today... and buy whatever clothes and essentials you and Zain need.)

Haider took a slow sip of his black coffee, his face completely indifferent, as if he wasn't paying an ounce of attention to their conversation.

A short while later, Ayat stood near the main driveway of the estate, carrying little Zain in her arms as she waited for the family driver to bring the vehicle around.

Suddenly, a sleek, jet-black luxury SUV pulled up and glided to a smooth stop right in front of her. The heavily tinted automatic window rolled down, revealing Haider Khan sitting in the driver's seat, looking dangerously handsome in a crisp white dress shirt.

"Aiye... mai aapko le chalta hun," he commanded, his deep baritone cutting through the quiet morning air. (Come... I will take you.)

Ayat froze, her doe-like eyes widening in hesitation. "Ji... Ji nahi, Haider Sir. Aapko toh office ka zaroori kaam hoga... main driver ke sath chali jaungi." (N-No, Haider Sir. You must have important work at the office... I will go with the driver.)

Haider didn't even blink as he offered a completely shameless lie. "Meeting cancel ho gayi hai." (The meeting got canceled.)

In reality, the international board meeting was one of the most critical mergers of the fiscal year. He had casually dumped the entire responsibility onto his senior assistant ten minutes ago, purely so he could drive her himself.

He leaned slightly over the passenger seat, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a hint of arrogant flexing. "Aur agar mall mein Zain rona shuru kar dega, toh akele kaise sambhalogi? Mere paas shant rehta hai woh." (And if Zain starts crying in the market, how will you manage alone? He stays calm with me.)

Ayat bit her lip, completely powerless against his logic—and the subtle pride in his voice about her nephew liking him. Yielding softly, she opened the door and slipped into the plush leather passenger seat, holding Zain close.

An hour later, they arrived at the city’s premier luxury mall.

Haider walked beside her, carrying a sleeping Zain effortlessly against his broad chest, his massive frame acting as a silent, terrifying shield. They stopped by an upscale cafeteria to grab a quick drink while Zain rested.

As Ayat sat across from him, gently stroking her nephew's soft hair, a group of men at an adjacent table began casting lingering, inappropriate glances at her.

Haider’s predatory instincts flared instantly. His jaw clenched tight enough to snap glass. He didn't make a scene, but his obsidian eyes locked onto the men with a dark, lethal glare, silently filing their faces away in his memory to have Sultan deal with them later.

Looking back at Ayat, he noticed she was completely blissfully unaware of the filthy gazes, her entire world centered around the baby in her arms.

"Aapne aaj hijab nahi pehna?" Haider asked normally, his voice breaking the quiet. (You didn't wear a hijab today?)

Ayat frowned slightly, confused by the sudden question.

Haider cleared his throat, adjusting his watch. "Mera matlab... kal jab aap aayi thin, toh aapne parda kiya hua tha." (I meant... yesterday when you came, you were wearing a niqab and burqa.)

Ayat looked down at little Zain, a small, bitterly sweet smile touching her rosy lips. "Jahan humein mehfooz lagta hai... wahan hum parda nahi karte." (Where we feel safe... we don't hide behind a veil.)

Haider’s breath hitched.

The profound, unspoken weight of her words crashed over him. She felt safe with him. In a world that had broken her, she viewed his shadow, his fortress, and his presence as her sanctuary. A sudden, terrifying wave of fierce responsibility and deep, intoxicating happiness flooded his chest.

After selecting several high-end baby outfits and soft cotton clothes for herself, Ayat found herself standing outside an elegant, high-end lingerie boutique.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her face exploding into a scorching, deep crimson blush. She looked at the delicate displays, then looked back at the towering billionaire standing beside her with her sleeping nephew in his arms.

The sheer awkwardness in the air turned razor-sharp.

"Aap... aap yahin rukiye. Hum abhi aate hain," Ayat stammered out frantically, her voice barely a whisper, not daring to look him in the eye. (You... you wait here. I will be right back.)

Haider’s clinical mind suddenly caught up to what store she was stepping into. Realization hit him like a freight train. His sharp jaw tightened, and a rare, flush of red spread rapidly to the tips of his ears.

He offered a single, tight nod, turning his body away slightly to offer her space. "Ji... aap jaiye." (Yes... you go.)

By the time they loaded the bags into the SUV and began their drive back to the estate, the city traffic had ground to a absolute standstill. The afternoon heat was rising, and the endless blaring of horns began to disturb the baby.

Zain woke up squirming, his tiny face puckering up as he let out a sharp, needy wail.

Ayat’s maternal instincts activated instantly. She knew that cry—he was starving. His nursing schedule was overdue, and the prolactation therapy had her own body throbbing in response.

Without hesitation, her trembling fingers reached beneath the heavy pallu of Sakina Khala's saree, unbuttoning her blouse hidden beneath the thick fabric. She draped her cotton pallu securely over her shoulder and chest, creating an impenetrable curtain over her skin before lifting a crying Zain beneath the cloth to let him latch.

As she settled the baby, Haider’s large hand reached out and pressed a button on the central console.

With a soft electronic hum, the luxury SUV’s heavily tinted electronic blinds engaged, turning the crystal-clear glass into an pitch-black, absolute barrier against the outside world. Not a single soul stuck in the surrounding traffic could peek inside.

This specific, high-tech modification was unique to Haider’s personal vehicle—and it was the exact, calculated reason he had skipped his multi-million-dollar meeting to drive her himself. He knew people were sick. He knew how men stared at women feeding their children in public.

And the thought of anyone catching even a shadow of her doing so made his blood boil.

As the quiet sound of Zain softly nursing echoed in the quiet car, Haider’s inner voice began to ruthlessly mock him.

What the hell are you doing, Haider? his rational mind sneered. She is a mere maid. Why are you sitting in traffic, missing a crucial merger, acting like a protective husband? You should be in your office, buried in financial files. What does it matter if she goes in a normal car? She’s a mother... mothers feed their babies everywhere. People look. It’s normal.

Haider’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He stared fixedly out of his side window, watching the rain trickle down the glass, his mind roaring back with an absolute, unyielding answer:

NOT HER.

NEVER HER.

As long as I am alive, she will never have to compromise on her comfort. No one looks at what belongs in my shadow.

Fighting the fierce, chaotic storm inside his head, Haider kept his head turned completely away, staring out at the stalled traffic, silently giving the shy, beautiful girl in his passenger seat the absolute privacy and protection she deserved.

The heavy gates of the Khan estate parted smoothly as the black SUV glided up the winding driveway.

By the time Haider parked in the private underground garage, the silence inside the vehicle was thick, laced with the unspoken words they had both been dancing around all afternoon.

Ayat unbuckled her seatbelt carefully, keeping Zain nestled against her shoulder. As she reached down to grab two of the heavy shopping bags resting near her feet, a large, dark hand closed firmly around her wrist.

The heat of his touch went straight to her core, making her gasp softly and freeze.

"Kya kar rahi hain aap?" Haider asked, his deep baritone dropping an octave, raspy and dark in the enclosed space of the car. (What are you doing?)

Ayat’s doe eyes met his in the rearview mirror, her lower lip trembling slightly. "Ji... woh... saman utha rahi thi." (I... well... I was picking up the bags.)

"Aapko kya lagta hai, hum itne be-murawat hain? " Haider muttered, his tone carrying a soft, dangerous scold that felt unnervingly intimate. "Humein itna patthar-dil samajhti hain ki ek maa ko baccha aur saaman dono sath uthane dein? Chhodiye ise... jab tak hum hain, aap bas Zain ko sambhaliye, baaki sab hum dekh lenge."

Before she could object, Haider stepped out of the SUV, walked around to the trunk, and effortlessly hoisted all eight luxury shopping bags—containing the baby’s clothes, and her new dresses—in one massive arm. With his other hand, he reached out and took her small elbow, guiding her toward the private elevator that led up to the residential wing.

The estate staff, accustomed to seeing the cold, unapproachable CEO march through the halls with an entourage of bodyguards, stopped dead in their tracks.

Jaws practically dropped as Haider Khan—the man who didn't even hold his own briefcase—marched down the long, carpeted corridor toward the servant's quarters, casually hauling pastel-colored baby bags and shopping totes.

Ayat felt her face burning with a furious, deep blush. She kept her chin tucked firmly into her chest, her bare feet moving as fast as her saree would allow to keep up with his long, confident strides.

When they reached her room at the far edge of the estate, Ayat pushed the door open, stepping aside to let him pass. "Aap... aap yahin rakh dijiye, Haider Sir."

Haider stepped into the small room.

His sharp eyes swept over her quarters, taking in the small single bed, the tiny wooden table, and the quiet simplicity of the space. It was spotless and smelled faintly of her wild roses, but compared to the grand master suites in the main wing, it was painfully humble. A sudden, unbidden tightening gripped his chest—a possessive urge to drag her out of this small room and place her somewhere far more luxurious, somewhere where she belonged entirely to him.

He set the heavy bags down on the small table with a soft thud.

Right at that moment, little Zain squirmed in Ayat’s arms, letting out a small, sleepy yawn. The baby blinked his big, dark eyes open, caught sight of Haider’s towering figure, and instantly brightened.

A happy, gurgling coo erupted from the four-month-old. Zain reached his tiny, chubby arms out toward the CEO, kicking his legs against Ayat’s waist.

Ayat let out a soft, flustered laugh, trying to gently hold the baby back. "Zain... nahi, beta. Haider uncle thak gaye hain, unhein pareshan mat kijiye." (Zain... no, child. Haider Sir is tired, don't bother him.)

Haider didn't listen. A soft, breathtaking shift passed over his chiseled face. He stepped forward, his massive frame completely cutting off the light from the hallway, and extended his hands.

"Yahan aao..." he whispered softly to the baby. (Come here...)

The moment Haider took Zain into his arms, the baby let out a triumphant squeal, his small, soft hand shooting up to instantly lock onto Haider’s dark beard, tugging at it playfully.

Haider didn't even flinch. He let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest—a sound so rare and rich that Ayat felt her knees turn completely to water.

She stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat as she watched him. He looked so impossibly broad, so dangerously masculine against the soft, fragile innocence of her nephew.

"Ise bohot shauk hai meri daadhi khinchne ka," Haider murmured, his dark eyes flickering up from the baby to lock directly onto Ayat's face. (He is very fond of pulling my beard.)

Ayat’s face exploded into a fresh flush of crimson. "M-Maaf kijiye... woh chota hai, usey samajh nahi hai." (I-I am sorry... he is small, he doesn't understand.)

Haider took a slow, deliberate step closer to her.

The small room suddenly felt suffocatingly tiny. The air grew thick, electric, and heavy with the scent of rain, leather cologne, and the sweet, milky fragrance of her skin.

He leaned down slightly to let her take the baby back. "Pakdiye ise... varna mera button tod dega." (Hold him... or he will break my button.)

Ayat stepped forward, reaching out her arms to gather Zain back against her chest.

In her rush, her small, soft hands slid directly over Haider’s broad, warm forearms. Her slender fingers brushed against his hot skin, her knuckles grazing the hard wall of his chest as she pulled the baby close.

A sharp, violent jolt of electricity snapped through both of them.

Ayat gasped, her breath hitching sharply as she froze in place. Her chest was mere inches from his, her small frame completely dwarfed under his towering shadow.

Haider didn't pull back.

His dark, obsidian eyes darkened to a lethal, pitch-black intensity. His heavy gaze dropped to her mouth, tracking the way her full, rosy lips parted in sheer, breathless shock, before sliding down to the delicate, exposed line of her neck where her saree pallu had shifted slightly.

The physical tension in the room snapped tight like a bowstring.

His hand, instead of retreating, slowly rose. His large, warm knuckles lightly, deliberately brushed against the side of her flushed cheek, tucking a loose, stray lock of her midnight-black hair behind her delicate ear.

His touch was agonizingly hot, sending a shiver straight down Ayat’s spine that made her toes curl against the floorboards.

"Aap... aap bohot jaldi ghabra jaati hain, Aaliyah," Haider growled softly, his gravelly voice dropping so low it felt like a caress against her skin. (You... you get nervous very easily, Aaliyah.)

Ayat couldn't breathe. Her doe-like eyes locked onto his, completely trapped under the sheer, possessive dominance radiating from him. Her heart was hammering so violently against her ribs she was certain he could feel the rhythm pulsing through the air between them.

"H-Haider Sir..." she whispered, her velvety voice cracking with an unbearable, sweet shyness.

Her soft plea seemed to test the absolute limits of his control. Haider’s jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking beneath his stubble as his thumb subtly stroked the soft skin of her jawline for one final, agonizing second.

He took a slow, heavy step back, breaking the dangerous spell before his primitive instincts could drive him to pull her completely into his arms.

Ayat stood rooted to the spot, clutching Zain tightly against her throbbing chest, her lips parting as she watched him turn and walk out of her room, leaving behind a lingering scent of dark oud and a fire that threatened to consume her whole.

LIKE AND COMMENT 💛