Chapter 62: More Than Words
The moment Shumaila led Hamza away, she didn't stop until they reached the quieter side of the campus, where the festival lights faded into a softer glow. The murmurs of students melted into the background, replaced only by the sound of their own breathing. Her fingers were still laced with his, her grip firm but slightly trembling.
Hamza, watching her closely, finally broke the silence. "Did you mean all that?" His voice was hoarse, like he was afraid of the answer.
Shumaila let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
A pause. A charged silence that crackled between them.
Hamza's lips quirked into a small, teasing smile. "So… do I get a proper answer now? Or are you still running?"
Before she could process his words, his hands were already moving—one sliding around her waist, the other reaching up to gently cradle the side of her neck. He pulled her against him, their bodies pressed together with only the whisper of space in between. Shumaila's breath hitched sharply, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt in instinctive reaction.
Her glare shot up at him, but the deep red dusting her cheeks betrayed her composure. "Let me go," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Hamza leaned down, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear. "Say it," he murmured, his voice dropping into a husky timbre. His thumb traced slow, feather-light circles on her neck, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.
Shumaila felt her entire body ignite. A sharp inhale left her lips, her hands tightening on his shirt. "I—I already said it in front of everyone," she stammered, trying to regain control of the situation, but it was failing miserably.
Hamza's smirk deepened. "Not enough."
His grip didn't tighten, but it didn't loosen either. He simply held her there, close enough for her heartbeat to stutter erratically.
Shumaila shut her eyes for a brief second, cursing how easily he was making her crumble. Then, she exhaled sharply and finally admitted it.
"I like you, okay?" Her voice was quieter now, but it carried the weight of sincerity. "I—I don't just like you, I—" She swallowed, forcing herself to look at him. "You're important to me, Hamza. More than I ever thought possible."
The moment she said it, Hamza pulled her impossibly closer, his hold firm, like he never wanted to let go. (Arey bhai? Ruko zra sabar karo)
Then, he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss against her ear. (hello? Mahila helpline?!!)
Shumaila stiffened instantly, her entire body erupting in heat. "H-HAMZA!" She pushed at his chest, managing to put some space between them, but it was weak, half-hearted at best.
She glared at him with pure murder in her eyes, though the furious blush on her face ruined the effect. "Don't do that again."
Hamza chuckled, his voice dark with amusement. "Seems like I found someone's weak spot."
Shumaila scowled, refusing to entertain him any further. "I'm hungry."
Hamza smirked. "Running away again?"
She turned on her heel without answering, but the redness on her face spoke volumes. He followed behind, his smirk softening into something more affectionate.
...
Later that evening, the group gathered at their favourite restaurant for dinner. The energy was high, excitement bubbling from the earlier events.
The moment Hamza and Shumaila sat down, Sneha leaned in with a knowing grin. "So… are you guys already boyfriend and girlfriend, or do we still have to suffer through your slow-burn nonsense?"
Hamza, with a mischievous grin, turned to Shumaila, clearly waiting for her answer. She knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard.
Shumaila's eyes darted between the table full of expectant faces, her cheeks threatening to betray her again. "Ugh. Fine. Yes. We're… together."
A chorus of cheers, whistles, and dramatic clapping erupted.
Sneha leaned back in her seat. "Well, that makes two official couples now."
"And soon will have a third couple too," she smirked, glancing at Aarav and Akansha, who immediately stiffened at the attention.
Akansha narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Rudra snorted. "She means that you two are basically in the process."
Aarav, who had been mid-sip of his drink, choked.
Shumaila and Komal exchanged matching mischievous looks.
Shumaila rested her chin on her hand. "It's cute, really. The whole 'slow realization of feelings' thing."
Akansha sputtered. "That's—! We're not—!"
Aarav cleared his throat, clearly flustered. "Can we focus on the actual couple here?"
"Oh, absolutely not," Siddarth cut in smoothly. "We're also here to discuss the recently wedded couple."
Sneha and Rudra froze.
"No," Sneha deadpanned. "Don't even start."
"Oh, but we must." Komal smirked. "How does it feel to be husband and wife?"
"It wasn't REAL," Sneha groaned. "We just didn't want to pay the stupid 1000 rupees."
"I don't know," Rudra mused, resting his chin on his hand. "Kinda feels real now."
Sneha turned to him, horrified. "Rudra, I swear to God—"
The table erupted into laughter as Sneha and Rudra began bickering like an actual married couple.
The rest of the evening was spent teasing, laughing, and making memories. But while their world was filled with warmth and comfort, elsewhere, a storm was brewing.
In another part of the city, Karan sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly, his eyes dark with rage.
That moment. That humiliation. The way Shumaila had walked off with Hamza like he was nothing. It burned.
She wants to embarrass me? Fine.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number. "Yeah, it's me. I need you to do something."
A sinister smile stretched across his lips.
Let's see if they're still smiling after this.