The smell of chicken karahi and fresh naan filled the Junaid household, the kind of dinner that usually meant one thing: Ammi had invited someone important. But tonight, that “someone important” wasn’t a new rishta candidate with stiff dupattas and polite smiles—it was her.

Adeel sat there, elbows propped on the dining table, trying to look casual, as if his heart wasn’t slamming against his ribs. He had convinced his best friend’s cousin—her—to play along as his “girlfriend” just to buy him some breathing room from Ammi’s matchmaking frenzy. She was supposed to just sit, smile, make small talk, and leave. Nothing complicated.

Except, of course, she was being herself.

Which meant she was bubbly as hell, talking a mile a minute, laughing easily, and somehow already reaching across the table to help Ammi serve salad.

“Bas, beta, rehne do, main kar lungi,” Ammi said, swatting her hand gently.

“Auntie, please, I like helping! Adeel toh kuch bhi nahin karta, mujhe at least karne dein,” she replied with a grin.

The entire table laughed. Abbu chuckled so hard he nearly dropped a piece of roti. Adeel, meanwhile, was two seconds away from sliding under the table and never coming back up.

“Beta, you know him too well,” Abbu teased, giving Adeel a look. “Dekha? Pehle hi din samajh gayi ke yeh ladka kaamchor hai.”

Adeel cleared his throat, shooting her a glare that only made her smile wider. She liked watching him squirm. He could see it in her eyes—mischief, sparkle, challenge.

“Actually,” she added sweetly, “Adeel is hardworking! I mean, he takes care of his father’s shop, then studies late at night, phir bhi subah uth kar deliveries bhi kar leta hai. Bas… thoda attitude zyada hai.”

Ammi’s face softened like ghee melting in a hot pan. “Mera beta itni mehnat karta hai? Mujhe toh lagta tha phone hi chalata rehta hai din bhar.”

Adeel nearly choked on his water. He hadn’t expected her to… defend him? She was supposed to keep it surface level, not expose his whole double life. He glared at her again, this time mouthing, chup raho!

But she just smiled innocently and turned back to Ammi. “Aapko pata hai, aunty? Woh MBA bhi kar raha hai side pe. Chupke se.”

The glass clattered against the table. Adeel had dropped it in shock. Abbu raised an eyebrow. Ammi gasped like she had just heard breaking news.

“Kya?” Ammi demanded, turning to her son. “MBA kar raha hai tu? Aur mujhe bataya bhi nahin?”

Adeel rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling, “Woh… bas… abhi sure nahin tha… socha tha bata dunga baad mein.”

His parents stared at him like he’d just announced he was running for Prime Minister. Ammi’s eyes glistened. “Mera beta… MBA kar raha hai…” she whispered, already mentally planning a new prayer of thanks.

And she—his fake girlfriend—sat there, looking far too pleased with herself, as if she hadn’t just detonated a bomb in his dining room.

By dessert, it was over for him. She had Ammi laughing at her jokes about childhood, Abbu nodding along as she praised their cooking, even his little sister clung to her arm like she’d found her new favorite person.

When the kheer bowls were cleared away, Ammi leaned in conspiratorially. “Beta, tumhari muskaan se hi pata chal raha hai. Allah ki kasam, tum dono kitne ache lagte ho saath.”

Adeel froze, spoon in midair. His fake girlfriend giggled nervously, tucking her dupatta. “Auntie…”

Ammi grabbed her hand and patted it warmly. “Tum meri beti ho ab. Rishtay waali aunty ko main khud mana kar doongi.”

Adeel groaned internally. This was not the plan. He hadn’t brought her here to become Ammi’s golden child. She was supposed to be a shield, not a daughter-in-law in training.

As they left later, his parents waving cheerfully from the doorway, he leaned in close, voice low and sharp. “Tumhein lagta hai tum bohot mazaaq kar rahi ho na?”

She tilted her head at him, eyes twinkling. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who asked me to be your girlfriend. I just… played my role.”

“Played your role?” he hissed. “Ab ammi tumhein asli pasand karne lagi hain… main fake wala kahan jaaun?”