Hashim was laughing again.
Loudly.
Again.
Iman nearly doubled over, giggling into her hand, eyes sparkling like someone had dropped stars in her coffee. Her laugh? Music. But the person making her laugh?
Problem.
Huge problem.
Zaffar casually muttered under his breath, "I swear, if looks could kill, Hashim would've evaporated."
Shanzay leaned back, arms crossed. "And here I thought only romcom girls got this jealous. Look at our Ahad. He's giving classic main shakal pe nahi, vibration pe maar deta hoon villain vibe."
I didn't reply.
Because at that moment, Hashim turned to look at me.
And I looked back.
Deadpan. Icy.
He froze.
His lips, curved into a smirk seconds ago, dropped slightly.
His shoulders stiffened.
A flicker of nervousness passed through his famously rowdy eyes.
And I leaned forward.
Casually.
But there was nothing casual in my tone.
"May I join in?" I asked, voice calm, low. Too calm.
Hashim blinked. "Y–yeah, of course."
I nodded slowly, locking eyes with him a second longer.
He glanced away.
A second later, I slid my chair just an inch closer.
Zaffar's eyes widened.
Shanzay whistled under her breath.
"Someone's about to lose a tooth," she muttered to herself.
Hashim gave a short laugh—awkward—and turned back toward Iman. But I was already there.
Watching. Listening.
I didn't say much. I didn't need to.
The chill in my aura did the talking.
Every time Hashim cracked a joke, I nodded once. Maybe.
When Zaffar made a pun, I smirked.
When Shanzay teased me, I deadpanned, "Therapist said I should express more. This is me expressing."
Laughter again.
But the moment Iman turned toward me—
The moment she said my name, just a soft "Ahad?"—
That volcano inside?
Melted.
I looked up. Warmth returned to my face like dawn breaking across ice.
"Hm?" I asked, voice light.
She smiled. "Did you hear the story about Hashim's cousin and the wedding plate?"
I looked at her like she had just handed me a planet and asked me if it was cute.
"No," I said, voice softer, gentler than it had been all evening. "Tell me."
Hashim tried to butt in.
"She already told—"
I cut him off with a single sideways glance.
Just a look.
Not a word.
And suddenly, Mr. Rowdy fell silent.
"Actually," Iman giggled, "you won't believe it—his cousin thought—"
I smiled as she spoke. Warm. Genuine. Real.
Zaffar leaned into Shanzay. "This is wild. He's literally giving refrigerator energy to the entire table... except her."
"Yup," Shanzay whispered, watching me curiously. "To her, he's sunshine in a cup. To the rest of us, he's death with dimples."
And they were right.
I was cold. I was sharp. I was on edge.
But only because the one person who could thaw me…
...was laughing too easily with someone who wasn't me.
Hashim had gotten comfortable.
Too comfortable.
He turned toward Iman again, cracking another joke in that annoyingly casual way of his—like he'd earned the right to make her laugh like that.
"And then," he said to her, leaning in slightly, "my uncle slipped right into the pool trying to impress the guests. Whole shalwar soaked. Looked like a walking water balloon!"
Iman burst out laughing.
A clear, uncontaminated laugh.
Hashim beamed.
I didn't.
Zaffar, next to me, was busy exchanging snack jokes with Sarah. Something about ketchup and ketchup puns. I didn't care.
All I could see—all I chose to see—was Hashim.
Hashim, laughing.
Hashim, nudging her elbow.
Hashim, getting a little too easy with his glances.
Then—
A switch.
Sarah returned, settling back on her chair after her call.
Iman turned toward her with a warm smile. "You're back! We were just—"
But in the middle of her sentence, her hand lifted, still animated from her story with Hashim, who chuckled again just as her palm lightly grazed his.
Hashim flinched—then smiled.
I stood up.
Abruptly.
"Hashim," I said, not loud, not soft. "Switch seats with me.Shamzay isnt keeping her pointy elbows away from me"
Shanzay gawked. "Wait, what? I didn't even—"
"You're annoying me today."
"Annoying?! Since when do I annoy you?"
"Since just now."
Hashim looked at me — and for the first time in a long time, he didn't grin.
He didn't raise his eyebrow or smirk with that usual I'm-the-cocky-chaos expression.
He blinked once, then slowly stood up. And for a fraction of a second, his eyes flicked with something unfamiliar. Not fear exactly — but wariness.
Like even the wildest dogs know when to tread lightly.
My light brown eyes had flickered something else. Something no one at this table — except maybe Zaffar — had ever seen before.
Iman looked at me — sharp, confused.
Hashim moved next to Shanzay. Shanzay, still pouting, scooted over, shooting me a glare.
I slid into the chair next to Iman like it was always mine. Like this was never up for debate.