beyond the vows

chapter 1

The sharp chime of the alarm pulled Musfira from the depths of sleep. She blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the pale beige curtains, her body resisting the call to wakefulness. With a sigh, she turned onto her side, her hand reaching for the ringing phone.

6:30 AM.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sat up, stretching her arms above her head before sliding off the bed. The cold floor sent a slight shiver up her spine, but she welcomed it—it was a reminder that a new day had begun.

She moved through her morning routine with practiced ease. A quick shower, followed by dressing in a simple yet elegant pale blue shalwar kameez with delicate embroidery at the neckline. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, and a touch of kajal lined her black eyes—deep and expressive, holding secrets even she hadn’t fully unraveled.

The kitchen was quiet as she prepared her usual breakfast—two slices of toast with honey and a steaming cup of chai. Her father, Ahmad Ali Agha, had already left for an early morning meeting, leaving the house eerily silent.

As she sat at the small dining table, scrolling through the notifications on her phone, her eyes landed on the time.

7:45 AM.

She needed to leave soon. Gathering her things—her handbag, a sketchbook filled with unfinished drawings, and her laptop—she stepped out of the house, locking the door behind her.

The crisp morning air greeted her as she made her way to the school, the city of Islamabad slowly coming to life around her.

The faint sound of chatter filled the hallway as Musfira walked into her classroom, a sense of calm washing over her. Teaching had always given her a strange kind of peace—numbers made sense, equations had answers, and for a while, everything felt predictable.

“Alright, class, settle down,” she called out, placing her books on the desk. The students quieted immediately, their eyes turning toward her.

Among them sat Zaroon Shah, his expression smug as he leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. Musfira sighed internally. If there was one student who constantly tested her patience, it was him.

(zaroon shah is zaviyar's brother)

“Alright, today we’re going to review quadratic equations. Can anyone tell me the general formula?”

A few hands shot up, but Zaroon, as expected, leaned forward, grinning.

“Miss, I have a question instead.”

She raised a brow. “Go on.”

“Why do we even need quadratic equations in real life? I mean, are we going to wake up one day and solve equations for breakfast?”

The class erupted in laughter, but Musfira remained unfazed. Crossing her arms, she gave him a pointed look.

“Well, Zaroon, if you ever plan to build a bridge, design a rollercoaster, or even calculate the trajectory of a missile, you might find these equations useful.”

The grin on Zaroon’s face faltered for a split second before he recovered. “Ah, so basically, if I don’t want to be an engineer, I don’t need them?”

Musfira smirked. “If you don’t want to pass this class, you don’t need them either.”

The class laughed again, and even Zaroon had to chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll pay attention.”

Shaking her head, Musfira turned back to the board. The rest of the class passed with minimal disruptions, though she caught Zaroon sneaking glances at his phone more than once.

As the bell rang, she called out, “Zaroon, stay back for a minute.”

He groaned but stayed seated as the other students filed out.

“You’re smart,” she said, sitting on the edge of her desk. “But you don’t take things seriously. You’re capable of a lot more than you let on.”

Zaroon shrugged. “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that?”

Musfira exhaled, shaking her head. “Just try. You might surprise yourself.”

With that, she let him go, watching as he strolled out of the classroom, still exuding the same nonchalance.

By late afternoon, Musfira had finished her schoolwork and made her way to her second job—Shah Enterprises.

Zaviyar’s company was a towering presence in the city, a sleek glass-and-steel structure that reflected the setting sun like a golden mirror. Inside, the atmosphere was always the same—efficient, cold, and meticulously controlled, much like Zaviyar Shah himself.

As she entered, she greeted the receptionist with a nod before making her way to the art department. Her job here was different from teaching—less structured, more expressive. She worked as an artist, creating designs for the company’s luxury interior projects.

She had barely settled into her desk when a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Miss Ahmad Ali.”

She looked up, meeting the unreadable gaze of Zaviyar Shah.

His light brown eyes—piercing and unreadable—held a sharp intensity, as if he saw through everything and everyone. Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, he stood with his hands in his pockets, his presence commanding without even trying.

“Mr. Shah,” she greeted politely.

“You were late today,” he remarked.

Musfira frowned. “I arrived exactly at 4:00 PM.”

Zaviyar’s lips curved slightly—not a smile, but something close to amusement. “I prefer my employees to be early.”

She exhaled through her nose. “Then I’ll aim for 3:55 next time.”

His gaze lingered on her for a second before he stepped closer. “I need a new set of sketches for the upcoming luxury project. The ones submitted last week were unsatisfactory.”

Musfira bristled slightly but kept her tone even. “I’ll handle it.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied her, his dark brows slightly furrowing, as if she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Zaviyar Shah was a mystery—one she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve. But as she turned back to her sketchbook, her fingers tracing a half-finished design, she couldn’t ignore the way his presence lingered in the room, even after he had left.

And somehow, she had a feeling that this was just the beginning.