Chapter Nine: What I Want, I Keep
377 Words
Zara’s POV
Zara Shaikh had never liked waiting.
Not for replies.
Not for decisions.
And definitely not for men.
So when her father confirmed that Rehaan’s family had begun "serious conversations" again — talks of dates, venues, families — she had felt something strange settle in her chest.
Excitement.
And possession.
She hadn’t seen Rehaan in months. But when he had arrived four days ago to stay at their ancestral home in Kerala, tucked between the backwaters and the scent of cardamom in the air, Zara had seen the flicker in his eyes.
Not love.
But hesitation.
And that was enough to make her act.
On the first evening, she made sure they sat on the balcony after dinner — chai in hand, the air thick with the sound of crickets and the occasional boat horn drifting from the lake nearby.
He had been kind.
Distant, but kind.
He spoke little. Smiled even less. But he had looked at her like he was trying to remember something he once believed in.
And that, to Zara, felt like hope.
Now, three days later, Rehaan had left — back to Bangalore — and Zara sat in her bedroom, watching the rain trace streaks down the windowpane. She scrolled through their old photos.
School competitions. Family functions. One blurry frame where he had accidentally smiled at her, and she had kept it for years like a secret wish.
She told herself this wasn’t obsession.
This was meant to be.
Their fathers had been best friends since before they were born.
They were from the same community, same values, same world.
It made sense — and what made sense, Zara believed, deserved to happen.
She picked up her phone and typed a message.
Zara:
You didn’t say goodbye properly. Not fair.
It stayed delivered.
Not seen.
She narrowed her eyes. Rehaan had been cold since the day he left — quieter, harder to reach. But Zara had learned early that patience wasn’t about waiting. It was about winning.
And she wasn’t going to lose him.
Not to his silence.
Not to another girl.
Not to some half-formed doubt in his heart.
She had waited long enough.
Now it was her turn to claim what was already hers.
- Writer
