The rishta was still going on when Taimoor got the call.

“Garage band kar lo, Moori. Aaj uske ghar walay aye hue hain.”

The wrench slipped from his hand. It clanged hard against the garage floor.

He didn’t say anything. Just wiped the oil off his fingers, grabbed his keys, and drove like the city owed him something.

By the time he reached her house, the boy and his family were just stepping out — well-dressed, over-perfumed, laughing too loud in a street that had always been quiet.

She walked them out with a tray in her hands.

Her eyes caught his. Just for a second.

She looked away.

He waited until the gate closed.

And then knocked.

Hard.

⸻

She opened it herself, eyebrows lifting like she hadn’t just torn him to pieces four hours ago.

“What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside without asking. His boots scraped over the marble.

“Where’s your father?” he asked, voice low.

“Not home,” she said slowly. “Why?”

He turned, jaw flexing, eyes burning straight into her.

“You called me bhai.”

She flinched.

“In front of them.”

“I had to—”

“No. You didn’t.” His voice cut the air. “You could’ve said neighbor. Friend. Mechanic. But no. You said bhai.”

“Taimoor—”

“Don’t.” He stepped closer. “Don’t say my name like that. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing all these years.”

She looked away.

“I bring your chai even when you don’t ask,” she said quietly. “I walk to the garage just to see if you’ve eaten. I lied to my ammi for you. And you still never said anything.”

“I didn’t need to,” he growled. “You knew.”

Her eyes shimmered, voice trembling. “I thought I did. Until today.”

Taimoor’s hands clenched at his sides. “Say bhai one more time.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say it again. I swear to God, I’ll marry you tomorrow just to make sure you never open your mouth and disrespect what I feel again.”

She stared at him — completely still.

And he stared right back.

No apologies.

No explanations.

Just him, standing in the middle of her drawing room, heart cracked open in the only language he knew:

Possession.