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Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Reem, a woman living quietly on her own, crosses paths with a wounded stranger one night and chooses to help him never knowing who he really is. But behind his silence lies a dangerous truth, he is part of a feared gang she’s only ever heard whispers about. When the truth finally surfaces, their love may already be too deep, to escape.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 coming soon!
Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 ⬇️
His gaze dropped toward the pink dupatta still hanging from his hand.
“Yeh amanat wapas karne aaya tha.”
(I came to return this belonging)
For a second, Reem only stared at the fabric in his hand before realization crossed her face.
“Oh.”
She stepped closer and took it from him.
She looked up at him softly. “Thank you.”
Uzair shrugged lightly.
“Tumhari strategy kaafi khatarnaak thi.”
(Your strategy was very dangerous)
Reem blinked.
“Kaunsi?” (Which?)
He nodded toward the dupatta.
“Mujhe isse baandhna.” (Tying me up with this)
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Waise idea bura nahi tha.” (Wasn’t a bad idea though)
For the first time since he walked in, the corner of her lips twitched only slightly. As though her mind was occupied with something else more.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but Uzair could still feel something off about her.
Today she just seemed…elsewhere.
He straightened slightly, eyes narrowing a little as he studied her properly.
“Aaj itni chup kyun ho?” (Why are you so quiet today?)
Reem looked down at the flowers again too quickly.
“Kuch nahi.” (Nothing)
“Hm.”
Uzair didn’t believe that for even a second as he watched her start rearranging flowers that were already perfectly aligned, adjusting stems unnecessarily.
“Kisi ne kuch kaha?” (Did someone say something?)
Her fingers paused briefly, remembering what she just witnessed a while back, her body involuntarily shuddering. Uzair catches that.
“Nahi.” (No)
Uzair frowned faintly as he wasn’t used to this feeling.
Usually he didn’t care enough to notice when someone’s mood changed or care enough to even ask twice. But watching her look distracted and uneasy was irritating him for reasons he didn’t understand.
Before he could question her again, she changed the topic herself.
“Aap ka zakhm kaisa hai ab?” (How’s your wound now?)
Uzair stared at her for a moment longer before answering.
“Zinda hoon.” (I’m alive)
She gave him a flat look.
“Maine yeh nahi poocha.” (That’s not what I asked)
He almost smiled, before speaking again
“Tum doctor ho ya florist?” (Are you a doctor or a florist?)
“Dono ban’na pada uss raat.” (Had to become both that night)
That earned an actual quiet chuckle from him.
Usually conversations exhausted him, especially with women. He didn’t know how to entertain softness, but doesn’t know why he keeps trying to make her speak normally again.
Reem finally looked at him properly again, her expression softer now.
“Waise…” she hesitated. “Aap ka naam kya hai?”
(By the way…what’s your name?)
The question made him stiffen almost instantly.
His real name carried weight in Lyari and looking at her now, standing among flowers with worried eyes, he suddenly didn’t want that fear entering her face too.
“Azaan,” he lied smoothly.
The name rolled off his tongue without effort.
Reem nodded slowly.
“Azaan.”
Something about hearing her repeat it even a fake name in that soft voice of hers irritated him more than it should have.
She tucked a loose strand of damp hair behind her ear before speaking again.
“Uhhh… Aap chai piyenge?” (Will you have tea?)
Uzair immediately shook his head.
“Nahi.”
“Aise kaise nahi?” (How can it be no like that?)
“I’m fine.”
“Aap mere shop mein aaye hain pehli baar.”
(This is your first time coming to my shop)
He raised an eyebrow.
“Toh?” (So?)
“Toh chai toh banti hai.” (Then tea is necessary)
Uzair clicked his tongue softly.
“Tum har baat pe itna insist karti ho?”
(Do you insist this much on everything?)
“Sirf un logon ke saath jo bohot ziddi hote hain.”
(Only with people who are very stubborn)
That pulled another smile from him.
Finally he sighed in defeat.
“Theek hai.” (Fine)
Reem nodded once in satisfaction and started moving away from behind the counter.
“I’ll just go get-”
“Ek minute.” (Wait)
She turned to see Uzair frowning slightly.
“Tum kahan jaa rahi ho?” (Where are you going?)
“Chai lene.” (To get tea)
“Bahaar?” (Outside?)
“Haan?” she answered like it was obvious, furrowing her eyebrows.
Uzair stared at her for a second like the answer itself annoyed him.
“Nahi, Tum yahin raho.” (No, You stay here)
Before she could respond, he had already straightened up despite the slight pain in his side.
“Main le aata hoon.” (I’ll get it)
“Aapko zarurat nahi” (You don’t need to-)
“Baitho.” (Sit)
Reem somehow actually listened.
She watched him leave her shop, disappearing into the busy street outside, before slowly sitting behind the counter again.
The usual quiet in her shop returned almost instantly.
She exhaled slowly, before leaning her head on her hand on the counter table, closing her eyes briefly, inhaling the familiar scent of flowers around her. Mixed somewhere within it was that same masculine cologne lingering faintly around him, oddly calming her.
She looked down at the folded pink dupatta beside her and smoothed the fabric gently before setting it carefully away.
A few minutes later the bell above the entrance chimed again.
Uzair stepped back inside holding two small clay cups of tea.
Reem stood quickly to receive hers, their fingers brushing against each other.
The contact only lasted a second, before Reem pulled her hand back first and Uzair notices almost immediately.
“Aap toh kaafi better chal rahe hain ab.”
(You’re walking much better now.)
She says, noticing his walking is much better now.
“Tumhari wajah se.” (Because of you)
The answer came so simply that she didn’t know what to say for a moment and just smiled.
They sat behind the counter quietly, the warmth of the tea filling the silence between them instead of awkwardness.
Outside, Lyari continued moving noisily as always but inside the little flower shop, it felt slower.
Reem blew softly over the tea before finally speaking again, her voice quieter now.
“Us raat hua kya tha?” (What happened that night?)
Uzair’s gaze remained on the steam rising from his tea.
“Ghar ja raha tha aur kuch logon ne roka” (I was going home and some men stopped me)
His jaw shifted slightly.
“Lootne ki koshish ki.” (They tried to rob me)
It wasn’t entirely true but it wasn’t entirely a lie either.
There had been men, there had been knives, and there had been blood.
The only thing he left out was who those men were, who he was, and the fact that nothing about that night had been as simple as a robbery.
Which Reem doesn’t have to know.
Reem raised her eyebrows, not expecting him to actually tell her and nodded absentmindedly, though it was obvious her thoughts weren’t entirely in the shop anymore.
“Ek ke paas chhura tha.” (One of them had a knife)
For a few moments, only the sound of traffic outside filled the silence.
Reems face grimaced as stared down into her tea, watching the surface ripple faintly whenever her fingers shifted around the cup.
Then she spoke quietly.
“Log kisi ko itna dard kaise de dete hain?”
(How do people hurt someone that much?)
Uzair glanced at her the question felt oddly specific and Reem didn’t seem to notice.
Her brows were furrowed slightly as she continued staring at her tea.
“Aur phir… unhein bura bhi nahi lagta?”
(And then… they don’t even feel bad about it?)
Uzair sighs.
“Duniya mein har tarah ke log hote hain.”
(There are all kinds of people in the world)
Reem swallowed.
The gruesome image flashed through her mind again but she pushed the memory away.
“Kabhi kabhi lagta hai kuch logon ko bohot zyada taqat mil jaati hai.”
(Sometimes it feels like some people get far too much power)
Her voice had become quieter now.
“Aur phir….koi unhein rokta hi nahi.”
(And then….nobody stops them)
Uzair leaned back slightly as he still didn’t connect it to anything specific.
To him, it sounded like the usual frustrations people had living in Lyari.
Fear, crime and powerful men.
“Yahan log aadat daal lete hain.”
(People get used to it here)
The answer earned a small frown from Reem, she looks at him, her eyebrows pulled together
“Aadat daal leni chahiye?” (Should they?)
For the first time, Uzair didn’t answer immediately.
Because despite the simplicity of the question, he wasn’t entirely sure what the answer was.
Reem finally seemed to realize at his silence that she’d been speaking more to herself than to him.
She blinked, looking down at her cup. “Sorry.” She shook her head lightly. “Pata nahi main kya bol rahi hoon.” (Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying) She chuckles half heartedly, brushing it off.
And that’s when Uzair notices she’s genuinely unsettled by something, but he still has no idea it was Rehman killing Babu Dakait that she witnessed. To him, she just seems disturbed by something she saw or heard around Lyari.
Uzair's gaze lingered on her face.
“Dukaan mein sab theek hai?” (Is everything alright with the shop?)
“Haan.” (Yes)
“Ghar mein?” (At home?)
Reem looked at him properly then, slightly surprised by the question.
“Haan.”
Uzair leaned back in his chair.
“Phir kis baat ka bojh lag raha hai?” (Then whats weighing on your mind?)
The words left his mouth before he could stop them and Reem's fingers tightened around her cup. For a second he thought she might actually tell him.
Instead she lowered her gaze and shook her head.
“Nahi. Bas thodi thak gayi hoon.” (No. I'm just a little tired)
Uzair left it as he did not want to push her in anyway to tell him whatever it is thats bothering her.
He glances at her again, this time not looking away and staring shamelessly.
The way her lashes lowered whenever she drifted too deep into thought, the tiny birthmark tucked beneath her lower lip. The way she kept blowing lightly on the tea even after it had probably cooled enough to drink.
And when she finally lifted the cup to her pink lips again, Reem caught him immediately.
Her movements faltered.
A soft pink tint spread across her cheeks so fast it almost amused him.
Uzair looked down at his tea to hide the faint smirk threatening to appear.
For the first time in a very long time, he wasn’t thinking about enemies, deals, territory or blood.
His phone vibrating against the counter shattered the moment.
Hamza.
Uzair sighed quietly before answering.
“Kahan ho tum?” Hamza’s voice came immediately. “Ghar aaya toh pata chala janab phir gayab hain.”
(Where are you? I came home and found out you disappeared again)
Uzair rubbed his forehead.
“Bas aa raha hoon.”
(I’m coming)
“Bhai ko pata chala na toh iss dafa zakhm se zyada woh maarenge.”
(If Bhai finds out, this time he’ll hurt you more than your wounds)
A quiet huff almost left Uzair.
“Haan bas bas, Aara hu mai”
(Yeah, enough enough, I’m coming)
While he spoke, Reem found herself watching him.
His black kurta sat loosely against his frame, the top buttons undone enough for the sharp line of his throat and chest and the slow movement of his Adam’s apple to show whenever he spoke.
She looked away before he could notice.
“Mujhe jaana hoga,” Uzair said after ending the call. “Bhabhi waise hi pareshaan hain.”
(I should leave, my sister-in-law is already worried)
Reem blinked.
“Aap apni bhabhi se aise baat karte hain?”
(You talk to your sister-in-law like that?)
Uzair looked at her in confusion before realizing what she meant and he laughed.
“Allah ka shukar hai nahi. Woh Hamza tha.” (Thank God, no. That was Hamza)
Recognition immediately crossed Reem’s face. The same Hamza who had marched into her apartment, grabbed her forearm, and looked at her like she was the criminal.
“Oh, Woh.” (Oh, Him)
Uzair immediately caught the look.
“Haan, wohi.” (Yeah, that one)
Reem narrowed her eyes.
“Acha.” (Right)
“Lagta hai abhi tak maaf nahi kiya tumne.” (Looks like you still haven’t forgiven him)
“Maaf kar diya hai.” (I have forgiven him)
She paused.
“Pasand phir bhi nahi hai.” (I still don’t like him though)
Uzair laughed, a proper laugh this time.
“Yeh sun ke uska dil toot jayega.”
(His heart will be shattered when he hears that)
“Tootne dijiye.” (Let it shatter)
Reem says with zero hesitation and for some reason, that made him laugh even harder.
She found herself smiling too, not because of the joke anymore, but because she had somehow managed to make him laugh. The sound suited him far better than the guarded expressions he always seems to wear.
Her day already felt a bit better, despite what she witnessed today.
After they shared a laugh,
“Aap… dobara aa sakte hain kabhi.”
(You can come again sometime)
The second it left her mouth, her eyes widened slightly.
“Matlab… shop par.”
(I mean… to the shop)
A quiet flicker of amusement crossed Uzair’s face, like he was trying not to smile too openly.
“Samajh gaya.”
(I understood)
Her cheeks warmed instantly again which she hated how easily that happened around him.
He turned as if to leave, Reem following him but after a few steps he stopped abruptly and looked back.
Reem barely had time to react before she almost walked straight into him.
She stopped short, looking up at him.
Uzair held her gaze for a moment, steady and in that quiet way of his.
“Mujhe tumhare saath waqt acha laga.”
(I liked spending time with you)
No hesitation.
“I’ll come again.”
Reem gulped at his bluntness before nodding, feeling butterflies in her stomach.
“Theek hai.”
She extended her hand almost shyly this time.
Uzair looked at it once before his much larger hand closed around hers fully, against her bangles, warm and firm enough to make her heartbeat stumble again.
“Apna khayal rakhiye,” (Take care of yourself) she murmured. “Aur zakhm ka bhi.” (And your wound too)
His thumb shifted faintly against her hand before letting go.
“Tum bhi.”
Then he walked out into the evening crowd outside, he turns to look at her face once again as though to remember each detail about her before disappearing slowly beyond the street after she waved at him, smiling.
Reem stood there long after he had gone.
The flower shop suddenly felt strangely empty again.
She missed his presence already.
➡️ This chapter was longer than 6, but i hope all of you enjoy both chapters!!
Here are 2 chapters as promised😇
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_________________________________________________
Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 ⬇️
Uzair woke up to the dull ache in his side as he opened his eyes. The room was still and quiet and for a few seconds he simply lay there staring at the ceiling.
As he shifted, a sharp pain pulled through his side.
“Saala…” he muttered under his breath, pressing a hand lightly against the bandaged wound before forcing himself upright anyway.
Somewhere downstairs he could hear utensils clinking faintly and Ulfat bhabhi’s voice scolding one of the servants.
After washing up and changing into a fresh black kurta, Uzair went down the stairs, one hand gripping the railing whenever the pain in his side flared too sharply. He hid it well, but not well enough for Ulfat to miss.
“Aahista,” (Slowly) she snapped immediately from the dining table. “Tum abhi theek nahi hue ho.” (You haven’t healed yet)
“Bhabhi, zinda hoon. Mar nahi raha,” Uzair replied, grabbing a glass of water. (Babhi, I’m alive, not dying)
“Kal bhi yahi lag raha tha phir aadhi jaan nikal chuki thi tumhari,” she muttered. (That’s what you thought yesterday as well, and then you ended up half-dead)
Hamza snorted from across the table while Donga shamelessly stole another paratha, Uzair rolled his eyes.
Breakfast passed normal, though Rehman barely spoke. Which was somehow worse because his silence always weighed more than shouting.
After breakfast the moment Uzair tried slipping out afterward, keys in hand, Rehman’s voice stopped him cold.
“Kahan ja rahe ho?” (Where are you going?)
Uzair paused near the doorway.
“Kahin nahi… bas thodi drive pe?” he answered carefully, a bit nervous. (Nowhere…just on a little drive?)
Rehman slowly raised an eyebrow.
“Mujhse pooch rahe ho ya bata rahe ho?” (Are you asking me or telling me?)
“Bata raha hoon, bhai.” Uzair sighed. (Telling you, Bhai)
“Phir meri baat bhi sun lo,” (Then listen to me too) Rehman said calmly, “Tum kahin nahi ja rahe. Kam se kam teen chaar din.” (You aren’t going anywhere, for atleast 3-4 days)
Uzair frowned immediately.
“Bhai, main theek hoon ab. Kal se bohot behtar feel kar raha hoon. Bas thodi der-” (Bhai, I’m fine now. I’m feeling better than yesterday, just for some time-)
“Maine mana kiya na, Uzair.” (I denied right, Uzair)
The finality in Rehman’s tone made Uzair quiet.
He stood from his chair then, rolling his sleeves up slowly, and only then did Uzair notice the rest of the men near the entrance already armed and prepared.
His brows furrowed.
“Aap kahan ja rahe ho?” (Where are you going?)
Rehman adjusted the cuff of his sleeve before answering in a flat voice.
“Babu Dakait ko khatam karne.” (To finish babu dakait)
“Kya? Lekin woh toh baad mein, aur main bhi aa raha tha.” (What? But that was supposed to happen later, and I was also coming)
“Ab nahi aa rahe,” (Now you aren’t coming) Rehman cut him off. “Tumhari haalat dekhi hai apni?” (Have you seen yourself?)
“Bhai-”
“Hamza hai. Donga hai. Baaki sab hain.” (Hamza is there. Donga is there. The rest are there) Rehman stepped closer now, resting a firm hand against Uzair’s shoulder. “Manage kar lenge.” (We’ll manage)
Something twisted unpleasantly inside Uzair at that sentence. Manage without him?
As if reading the thought directly off his mind, Rehman sighed.
“Har jagah tumhara hona zaroori nahi hota, Uzair. Aur iss waqt mujhe sirf tumhari sehat ki fikr hai.” (It isn’t necessary to have you everywhere. And right now I’m just worried about your health)
Uzair looked away, refraining from clicking his tongue.
The truth was, part of his frustration had nothing to do with them going without him but everything to do with wanting to meet Reem.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Theek hai,” (Okay) he muttered at last before adding darkly, “us harami ko zinda mat chhorna.” (Don’t leave that bastard alive)
At that, Rehman’s expression hardened too.
For a brief second both of them remembered Naieem.
Rehman simply nodded once before turning and leaving with the others.
From the rooftop a while later, cigarette between his fingers, Uzair watched as the jeeps pull out of the haveli gates one after another. Smoke curled slowly from his lips as his gaze followed the main jeep disappearing down the road.
His throat tightened unexpectedly, at past memories of Naieem
Naieem had been too young and too innocent for the kind of death he got.
Uzair tilted his head back toward the sky, blinking hard at the tears, before dragging another inhale from the cigarette.
This was his world, filled with blood, loss, revenge and suffering.
And somehow in the middle of all that, his mind kept drifting toward a woman with soft brown eyes.
Who was a huge contrast, to his kind of world.
At the same time across Lyari, Reem stood inside her flower shop watering fresh roses, the familiar scent of her flowers and wet leaves settling her nerves the way it always did.
The previous night already felt unreal enough to almost convince herself it had never happened.
Until loud voices and running erupted outside.
Reem frowned, setting the spray bottle aside before stepping out of the shop.
“Rehman Dakait-”
“Babu Dakait-”
Her stomach tightened instantly.
People surged past her toward the main street, excitement flashing across their faces confusing her more than their shouting itself.
For a second she thought about going back inside, but her curiosity won.
Keeping her head lowered, Reem followed from the back of the crowd, careful not to attract attention. Most of the people around her were men, their expressions eager, almost entertained, and suddenly she felt very out of place among them.
Then she saw him, Rehman Dakait.
The crowd parted around him instinctively as he dragged an older man brutally by the collar across the street.
His leg twisted unnaturally beneath him as he begged between his bloody coughs.
Reem slowed immediately, fear rooting her feet in place.
“Rehman…” the older man wheezed desperately. “T-tu meri aulaad hai… main tera baap hoon na…” (Y-you’re my child….I’m your father..)
Rehman’s face didn’t even change slightly at that sentence.
He slammed the man onto a fruit vendor’s cart hard enough to overturn baskets of oranges onto the street.
Reem’s breath caught in her throat.
“Bachche ko nahi maarna tha,” Rehman said quietly. (Shouldn’t have killed the child)
Then he grabbed the heavy weighing stone from the cart and brought it down across the man’s face with a sickening crack.
Reem gasped sharply, her hands flying to cover her mouth and the crowd around her recoiled but no one stopped him.
Blood splattered across broken fruit and cart while Rehman continued with horrifying fury until the man beneath him stopped moving entirely.
Reem felt tears spring into her eyes instantly, she couldn’t look away or breathe.
When Rehman finally straightened, breathing hard, he turned toward the people of Lyari.
“Aaj se Lyari par Balochon ka hukm chalega,” (From now on, Baloch will rule Lyari) he declared coldly. “Aur jo khilaaf gaya…” (And whoever goes against this…)
He pointed toward the corpse.
“Uska haal bhi yahi hoga.” (This will be their fate too)
Reem lowered her gaze immediately, not wanting to even look him in the eyes accidentally. Her chest felt tight, and nausea climbing into her throat as she turned away and pushed through the people hurriedly.
By the time she reached her shop again, tears were already slipping down her cheeks.
How could people do this?
How could they kill someone so mercilessly and still walk away like nothing happened?
Inside the small back room of her shop, she splashed cold water repeatedly against her face, trying to erase the image burned into her mind but it didn’t really help.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the sink.
Maybe the old man had been evil too and deserved punishment?
She inhaled shakily, staring at herself in the small mirror and finally stepped back into the main shop, still trying to calm herself.
And froze seeing a tall figure standing near the entrance.
The shop suddenly felt far too small around him.
Reem stared.
“…Tum?” (You?)
Uzair leaned lightly against the doorway, one hand holding something familiar between his fingers.
Her pink dupatta.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Haan,” he replied softly. “Main.”
Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist 🥰
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Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 ⬇️
The Baloch haveli gates opened just as Hamza pulled the jeep inside, gravel crunching beneath the tires before the engine finally stopped.
Hamza stepped out first while Donga came around the other side helping Uzair out. Donga reached towards the passenger seat to grab the pink dupatta lying there carelessly until Uzair’s voice stopped him.
“Woh chhor.” (Leave that)
Donga paused mid-motion, blinking at him.
Uzair adjusted himself carefully against the jeep door, jaw tightening from the pain in his side. “Wahin rehne de” (Let it be there)
The jeep was his anyway but still, for some strange reason, the thought of anyone else touching that dupatta irritated him more than it should have.
“And suno,” (And listen,) he added, fixing both Hamza and Donga with a warning look, “Bhai aur Bhabhi ke saamne Reem ka zikr nahi hoga.”
(Reem shouldn’t be mentioned in front of Bhai or Bhabhi)
Hamza’s brows lifted slightly while Donga looked between them both before a grin slowly spread across his face.
“Wah,” Donga muttered dramatically. “Ab pehle naam par aa gaye ho?”
(Now you’re already on first name basis?)
Hamza looked away, hiding his amusement, while Donga wiggled his eyebrows shamelessly.
A second later, a sharp slap landed against the back of his bald head.
“Apni bakwas band kar.”
(Stop your nonsense)
“Abey!” Donga rubbed the back of his head with offense. “Zakhmi tum ho, dard mujhe ho raha hai.”
(You’re the injured one, but I’m the one hurting)
Supporting Uzair from either side, they slowly walked him toward the entrance of the haveli. The moment they stepped inside, before anyone could even properly speak, slender fingers suddenly twisted Uzair’s ear backwards.
“Aah- Bhabhi!”
Hamza and Donga instantly burst into muffled laughter.
Ulfat Bhabhi stood there glaring at him, her dupatta slipping slightly from one shoulder in her agitation. To anyone else she might’ve looked soft spoken and graceful, but inside this haveli, everyone knew better.
“Tumhein zara bhi hosh hai?” (Do you even a little sense?) she snapped.
“Puri raat gaayab thay tum! Pata hai kitni fikr ho rahi thi humein aur-” (You were gone all night! Do you know how tensed we were and-)
Her words stopped abruptly as her eyes traveled properly over him.
The bruises, the cuts across his face and dried blood staining his olive kurta.
Her expression changed instantly.
“Ya Allah…”
Without waiting for permission, she started inspecting him herself, fingers brushing against cuts and bruises with growing alarm. When she moved his kurta aside slightly and saw the thick white bandage wrapped around his side, a soft gasp escaped her as her hand flew to her mouth.
“Yeh kya haal bana liya hai tumne?” (What have you done to yourself?)
Uzair immediately tried pulling the fabric back down. “Bhabhi, bas—”
As he removed his hand from Donga’s shoulder to fix his kurta, his balance nearly gave way.
And that was when Rehman Bhai appeared on the stairs coming down.
The older man stopped mid-step.
His eyes fell straight onto the bandage beneath Uzair’s kurta, and the atmosphere inside the haveli shifted instantly.
Rehman’s jaw tightened.
“Yeh kya hai?”
(What is this?)
He walked forward quickly now, eyes scanning every visible injury on Uzair’s body.
“Kahan thay tum poori raat? Aur ek call karna bhi zaroori nahi samjha?”
(Where were you all night? And you didn’t think one call was necessary?)
Uzair opened his mouth to answer, but Ulfat cut in immediately.
“Bas bhi karein, Rehman,” (Thats enough now, Rehman) she said sharply.
“Haalat dekhi hai iski?” (Did you look at the state he’s in?)
Her eyes had already started filling with tears despite her irritation.
“Baatein lunch par kar lena, Pehle ise fresh hone dein.”
(Talk at lunch now, first let him freshen up)
Then she turned back toward Uzair and pointed a warning finger at him.
“Aur agli baar agar aisa kuch hua na, toh sabse zyada mujhse darna.”
(And next time something like this happens, you should fear me the most)
Rolling her eyes at both her husband and Uzair alike, she turned toward the kitchen.
“Akhlaq!” she shouted loudly. “Medical supplies Uzair ke kamre mein le kar aao. Aur kitchen mein mat ghusna tum log!”
(Bring the medical supplies to Uzair’s room. And none of you come into the kitchen!)
Despite everything, Rehman immediately obeyed his wife’s instructions without argument. Still glaring at Uzair from head to toe, he jerked his chin toward the hallway.
“Jao. Jaldi.”
(Go. Quickly.)
Lunch was unusually quiet.
The clinking of spoons and plates barely filled the silence hanging over the dining table. Ulfat had barely served everyone properly when Rehman finally spoke.
“Tu akelay kyun gaya tha?”
(Why did you go alone?)
Ulfat sighed immediately in annoyance.
“Thoda toh sabr karein.”
(Have some patience)
“Bilkul,” Uzair muttered under his breath.
Rehman’s spoon tightened in his hand.
“Tu bilkul baat mat kar,” he said flatly. “Apni haalat dekhi hai?”
(You don’t speak, Look at your condition)
Uzair actually fell silent after that.
For a while, only the quiet sounds of lunch filled the room before Uzair finally spoke himself, voice calmer this time.
“Mujhe shak tha.”
(I was suspicious)
The table stilled.
Hamza looked up immediately.
Uzair leaned back carefully despite the pain in his side.
“Main kuch chhote gang walon ki gathering mein gaya tha. Dekhna chahta tha pichli baar khabar kis ne leak ki thi.”
(I went to one of the smaller gang meetings. I wanted to see who tipped people off last time)
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Lekin usse pehle hi doosre logon ne raid kar diya. Phir jo hua… ho gaya.”
(But before I could find out anything, a rival group raided the place. After that… things just happened)
He shrugged lightly like he wasn’t talking about nearly dying.
Hamza frowned.
“Par akelay kyun gaya tha?”
(But why did you go alone?)
Uzair looked at him like the answer was obvious.
“Kya karta? Pura lashkar le jaata saath? Lowkey rehna tha.”
(What was I supposed to do? Take an army with me? I was supposed to stay lowkey)
Feeling proud he emphasizes the word lowkey, Hamza narrows his eyes.
Before Hamza could reply, Rehman’s glare shut the entire conversation down.
“Agli baar,” he said coldly, “Hamza aur Donga ko bataye baghair kahin nahi jaoge. Ya kisi ko saath le kar jaoge. Samjhay?”
(Next time you won’t go anywhere without informing Hamza and Donga. Or you’ll take someone with you. Understood?)
Uzair lowered his gaze slightly.
“Ji, Bhai.”
By late afternoon, the blood loss and pain finally started catching up to him properly. Ulfat practically forced him into bed herself, ignoring every irritated protest he made.
“Seedha let jao aur so jao,” she ordered. “Doctor banne ki zaroorat nahi hai.”
(Lie down and sleep, No need to act like a doctor)
Once Uzair finally disappeared into his room, Rehman quietly called Hamza and Donga aside.
Rehman looked between them both before asking quietly,
“Sach batao. Kitni buri haalat thi iski?”
(Tell me honestly. How bad of a state was he in?)
Donga exhaled heavily, rubbing his beard.
“Agar jis ne uthaya tha usse ghar na le jaata toh…”
(If the person who found him hadn’t taken him home then…)
He stopped mid sentence and Rehman’s eyes narrowed instantly.
“Kis ne?” (Who?)
Hamza shot Donga a sharp glare for opening his mouth.
“Bas ek larki thi,” he answered carefully after a second. “Dukaan ke paas mili thi usse.”
(Just some girl. She found him near her shop)
Rehman raised an eyebrow slowly.
“Kaun thi?” (Who was she?)
Hamza shrugged lightly.
“Seedhi saadhi lag rahi thi.” (She seems innocent)
Rehman went silent for a moment before saying quietly,
“Toh phir usse door rakho.”
(Then keep her away from this)
His expression hardened slightly.
“Main nahi chahta koi masoom hum logon ke chakkar mein phanse. Khaaskar koi larki.”
(I don’t want an innocent getting tangled up in our mess. Especially a girl)
At almost the exact same time, across Lyari, Reem was trying to convince herself that life was normal again.
After cleaning her apartment and showering properly, she changed into a simple dark green cotton salwar kameez and checked the time. It was already past two in the afternoon.
She sighed softly.
What else was she supposed to do? Sit at home and think about a stranger all day?
So she braided her damp hair neatly and headed outside toward her car, only stopping at the sight waiting for her.
Dark stains still spread across the passenger seat, dried into the fabric like a stubborn reminder of last night.
Reem stared at it for a long moment before exhaling tiredly.
She didn’t have the energy to clean it for today.
Locking the car again, she decided to walk instead.
The moment she opened her flower shop, the familiar scent of roses, jasmine, and fresh stems wrapped around her like comfort itself. Slowly, she inhaled deeply and breathed out, the heaviness inside her loosened.
She arranged bouquets, dealt with customers, argued with a supplier over late deliveries, and for a few hours, last night almost began feeling unreal.
Almost.
By evening, exhaustion settled back into her bones.
After closing the shop, she walked home through the dimly lit streets and cooked something simple, bhurji and rice because she was too tired for anything else. She ate quietly before finally collapsing onto her bed.
The second she settled against the pillows, she froze.
His scent was still there.
That masculine cologne mixed faintly with antiseptic and something darker she couldn’t explain.
Reem closed her eyes tightly.
Who were those men?
Who was he?
And why couldn’t she stop thinking about his face?
That stupid almost-smile.
Those sharp eyes.
The way he had looked back at her before leaving.
She turned onto her side with frustration, pulling the blanket higher.
“Pagal” she muttered to herself.
(Crazy)
And yet strangely, wrapped in the fading scent he had left behind, sleep came easier than she expected.
Back at the Baloch haveli, the entire house had fallen silent.
Everyone was asleep.
Everyone except Uzair.
He lay flat against the bed staring at the ceiling, restless despite the exhaustion weighing down his body. Every time he shut his eyes, his mind wandered back to her.
The florist.
Her angry little arguments, that ridiculous hairbrush.
The way she had stood up to him without having the faintest clue who he was.
Why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
With a quiet groan, he pushed himself upright despite the sharp pain tearing through his side and slowly walked downstairs toward the courtyard. The night air was cooler outside.
His jeep sat exactly where they had left it.
Uzair opened the passenger door and picked up the pink dupatta lying abandoned on the seat.
For a moment, he simply looked at it.
Then he went back upstairs.
Inside his room, he was about to lay back down on the bed with it still in his hand when he suddenly stopped.
What was he doing?
He was Uzair Baloch.
Not some lovestruck idiot carrying around a girl’s dupatta in the middle of the night.
Clicking his tongue at himself, he walked to the cupboard instead and shoved the pink fabric beside his clothes. The bright color looked completely out of place between rows of black, grey, khaki, and brown.
Returning to bed carefully, he lay back down with a low grunt of pain, one hand resting over his bandaged side.
His eyes drifted shut slowly.
And despite himself, the last thing on his mind before sleep finally claimed him was a pair of soft brown eyes looking at him without fear.
➡️ Apologies for the delay again !! I’m caught up with a few things right now, but dont worry, i will be posting two chapters together by Eid or so!! 🥳🥳🥳
So just bear with me 🙋🏻♀️💗
Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist 🥰
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Taglist 💗
@certainteapolice-47 @debsreads21 @maroonphase
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@crimsontraditiongolem @sea-breeze-in-my-hair
@teenagenerdrascalsports-blog @somu25
@lavenderwinkle
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Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 ⬇️
The words landed heavier than she expected.
Reem felt her throat tighten instantly, her mind scrambling for an explanation that didn’t exist and her grip on the door edge stiffened as silence pressed in from both sides.
For a brief second, no one moved.
Without asking or without waiting, the bald man placed his heavy hand against the door, forcing it open wider. The wood creaked under the pressure as the small barrier Reem had tried to maintain disappeared completely. She stumbled back a step, her heart jumping at the sudden invasion, but neither of the men hesitated. They stepped inside like they belonged there, their presence instantly swallowing the already small space of her apartment.
“Ek minute—” (One minute—) she tried to protest.
Hamza’s gaze moved past her and everything in him changed.
The calm, composed ease vanished not replaced with panic, but something far more dangerous. Alert, sharp and immediate. His eyes locked onto Uzair, taking in the bandage, the stiffness in his posture, the unmistakable signs of injury and stains of blood.
In two quick strides, he moved forward, but before Reem could react, his hand shot out and closed around her forearm in a firm and controlled grip.
Reem let out a startled yelp, instinctively trying to pull back, but his grip tightened just enough to stop her.
Whats with everyone trying to grab her today?
But this was different, different from Uzairs grip, which had been instinctive and almost reflexive, driven by confusion and survival. This, however, was deliberate and controlled in a way that felt more calculated, as if he knew exactly how much force to use without losing control.
“Yeh kisne kiya?” (Who did this?) he asked, his voice low, steady but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t gonna ask twice.
Her heart pounded against her ribs.
“Chhoriye mujhe!” (Let go of me!) she snapped, struggling against his hold, anger flashing through the fear.
“Main ne bachaya hai usay!” (I saved him!)
The words came out sharper than she expected, but she didn’t take them back.
For a second, Hamza didn’t respond and his eyes flickered down to her her clothes stained with blood thats not hers and the faint smell of antiseptic in the air.
Something in his expression shifted and before he could say anything,
“Hamza.”
Uzair’s voice cut through the room, carrying authority.
“Chhor usay. Usne meri madad ki hai.” (Leave her, she has helped me)
The grip on her arm loosened instantly and Hamza let her go.
Reem stepped back at once, rubbing her forearm, her glare snapping toward him without hesitation. For a moment, the fear was still there but now it was laced with irritation, refusing to shrink in her own house.
Donga, meanwhile, had already reached Uzair’s side, one arm coming around to support him as he tried to sit up straighter. His movements were careful, almost practiced, as if this wasn’t the first time he had seen him like this.
“Bohot khoon beh gaya hai,” (Too much blood has been lost) Donga muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Hamza’s attention shifted back to Uzair now, his jaw tightening slightly as he took in the full extent of the injury.
“Kis ne kiya yeh?” (Who did this?) he asked again, this time directed at him.
The moment the question left his mouth, Reem’s eyes snapped toward Uzair almost instantly.
She hadn’t even realized she was waiting for the answer until now.
Ever since last night, the question had been sitting at the back of her mind like an itch she couldn’t reach. Who could hurt someone like him badly enough to leave him bleeding in the street? And more importantly what kind of a man is he? Or they?
Uzair didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze flickered toward Reem and then back to Hamza.
“Baad mein.” (Later.)
The word was enough for Hamza to not push further.
Instead, he gave a short nod, stepping forward to help Donga steady him as Uzair tried to stand. The moment he put weight on his side, a sharp breath escaped him despite himself.
Reem watched all of it in silence, the way they moved around him with quiet coordination, the way they didn’t question him, and the way he didn’t feel the need to explain anything as well.
There was an unspoken understanding between them, something practiced and natural, and it told her these weren’t just random men.
They were his people.
Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides as that realization settled in.
As they began guiding him toward the door, she finally spoke, unable to stop herself.
“Tum log unhein kahan le ja rahe ho?” (Where are you guys taking him?)
Her voice wasn’t as strong this time.
Uzair paused and then looked at her
“Main inhein jaanta hoon,” (I know them) he said, his tone quieter now. “Yeh mere bhai jaise hain.” (They’re like my brothers)
There was something different in his voice this time, it was less guarded.
“Shukriya…meri madad karne ke liye,” (Thank you…for helping me) he added after a brief pause. “Sach mein.” (Truly)
For a moment, Reem didn’t know what to say and just nodded after a pause.
Hamza glanced at her, not with suspicion this time, but something closer to acknowledgment and Donga gave a small respectful nod
They moved toward the door again and Reem followed them without thinking, stopping at the threshold as they stepped outside.
As they moved past her car, supporting him carefully, Uzair’s steps slowed just slightly. His gaze dropped to the seat visible through the window the dark, dried stains of his own blood stark against the fabric. For a brief moment, something flickered across his face.
Fragments and memories of blurry streetlights.
The rough drag of his own weight and her voice, soft and urgent, cutting through the haze.
“ghabrayein mat! Aankhein khole rakhein! Baat karein mujhse!”
He inhaled slowly, as if grounding himself, before letting the memory slip away for now.
They continued toward the jeep, and just before they reached it, Uzair turned slightly, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes found hers immediately, that same unreadable look settling over his features, but softer now, quieter in a way it hadn’t been before. For a brief second, Reem hesitated but then gave him a small, almost uncertain smile, catching him off guard.
There was a flicker of something in his expression subtle, but real as if he hadn’t expected that from her at all. His gaze didn’t leave hers, holding it a moment longer than necessary, even as Donga and Hamza helped him into the jeep. And when they finally pulled away, his eyes remained on her, steady and lingering, until distance forced the moment to break.
In the Jeep
The jeep pulled away from the narrow street, the low growl of the engine filling the silence that had settled between the three men. Lyari moved around them as it always did but Uzair barely registered any of it.
Donga was saying something from the front seat, his voice irritated and restless as he drove.
“Main ne kaha tha na akelay mat niklo,” he muttered, throwing a glance into the rearview mirror. “Agar woh larki tumhe na milti toh—” (I had told you not to go alone, if that girl wouldn’t have found you then—)
“Bas kar,” (Enough) Uzair cut him off quietly, leaning back against the seat.
The movement pulled painfully at the stitches in his side, but even that wasn’t enough to distract him properly.
Because somehow, against all logic, his mind kept circling back to her.
To the girl standing in her tiny apartment with a wooden hairbrush pointed at him like it was a loaded weapon and the way she had argued with him, completely unaware of who she was talking to.
The memory almost made him smirk again.
Hamza noticed immediately.
From beside him, he stayed quiet for a moment, watching Uzair with narrowed eyes before speaking casually.
“Ajeeb baat hai… maut ke muh se nikle ho aur soch kisi aur mein gum hai.” (Strange… you almost escaped death and your mind is lost somewhere else.)
Donga snorted from the front seat and Uzair’s silence was an answer enough.
Hamza’s mouth twitched slightly as he leaned back into the seat, studying him more carefully now. Men like Uzair didn’t linger on strangers. They especially didn’t sit silently staring out windows after almost dying.
But Uzair’s thoughts kept drifting back anyway.
Plain in the simplest way, not polished or overly done up like the women he occasionally saw at political dinners or crowded gatherings. There had been something softer about her beauty, something painfully real. The loose braid. Bare skin. Brown eyes tired from last night and helping him, filled with fear one second and defiance the next.
And that tiny birthmark tucked beneath her lower lip.
For some reason, that was what his mind kept returning to most. He exhaled slowly, annoyed at himself more than anything else.
Women had never been something he allowed himself to get attached to, with the kind of life he lived. Men in his world either buried the people they loved or got them killed. It was easier to keep distance, easier to avoid building anything soft enough to be used against him later.
And yet somehow, after one night, one stubborn florist had managed to stay in his head longer than she should have.
Maybe it was nothing snd just curiosity or the fact that she had looked him in the eye and spoken to him like he was a normal man instead of Uzair Baloch.
And strangely enough he wanted to keep it that way, for now.
Hamza was still watching him from the side, clearly piecing things together in that irritatingly observant way of his, when his gaze suddenly dropped lower.
“Toh yeh bhi suvinair ke taur par le aaye ho?”
(So you brought this back as a “suvinair” too?)
Despite the pain in his side, Uzair immediately looked up with irritation.
“Abey gawaar, souvenir hota hai, suvinair nahi,” he muttered. (You illiterate, It’s souvenir, not suvinair.)
Donga burst out laughing from the front seat.
“Dekho zara, banda aadha mara hua hai phir bhi pronunciation theek kar raha hai.” (Look at him, half dead and still correcting pronunciation.)
Hamza shook his head with a quiet scoff.
Uzair frowned slightly before following his line of sight.
His hand was still loosely clutching the pink dupatta.
Reem’s pink dupatta.
The same one she had tied around his wrist like she genuinely believed it would stop him from escaping.
Donga snorted from the front seat.
“Ya Allah,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “Uzair Baloch ko ek phoolon wali ne baandh diya.” (Ya Allah, a florist has tied Uzair Baloch)
Even Hamza laughed quietly at that, though his eyes remained thoughtful.
Uzair clicked his tongue in irritation and shoved the dupatta beside him.
“Bakwas band karo aur seedha gaari chalao.”
(Shut up and drive properly.)
That only made Donga grin wider.
“Haan haan, ab gussa hum par nikaalo.”
(Yeah yeah, now take your anger out on us)
The humor faded after a moment though, replaced by something heavier.
Hamza leaned back slightly, his expression turning serious again.
“Rehman Bhai ghar par intezaar kar rahe hain,” he said quietly. “Subah se pareshan phir rahe hain tumhare liye.”
(Rehman Bhai is waiting at home. He’s been worried sick since morning)
Donga nodded, one hand tightening around the steering wheel.
“Aur gusse mein bhi hain.”
(And he’s angry too)
Uzair exhaled slowly, already knowing that.
Hamza continued, calmer now.
“Jo bhi hua hai, sab batana unhein.”
(Tell him everything that happened)
His jaw tightened slightly before he added,
“Hum bhi wahin honge.”
(We’ll be there too)
Donga’s earlier amusement had disappeared completely now.
“Kis mein itni himmat aa gayi ke hamare bhai par haath uthaye?”
(Who got bold enough to lay a hand on our brother?)
A heavy silence settled in the jeep after.
At Reems House
The apartment felt strangely quiet after they left. Reem stayed near the door for a few seconds longer, staring at the empty street as the sound of the jeep slowly faded into the distance. Only when it disappeared completely did she shut the door and lean back against it, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
The silence inside her home felt different now. Just hours ago, there had been a wounded stranger in her bed, blood on her hands, voices filling the apartment, tension so thick she could barely breathe through it. And now nothing.
Reem forced herself to move before her thoughts swallowed her whole. There was still blood on the floor, on the sheets, on the ruined sleeves of her kameez. She cleaned quietly, rinsing stained cloths under running water while trying to process how her life had somehow changed overnight.
One moment she had been closing up her flower shop, and the next she was dragging an injured man through the streets of Lyari and stitching wounds she had no experience in.
“Pagal ho tum, Reem,” (You’re mad, Reem) she muttered softly to herself while scrubbing at a stubborn stain near the bed.
But even as she said it, her thoughts betrayed her again as they kept drifting back to him.
To the suspicion in his eyes when he first woke up, the roughness in his voice, the way he had looked at her whenever she answered him back instead of shrinking away.
She remembered that almost smile he tried to hide whenever she said something ridiculous, and the quieter tone he used when he thanked her before leaving.
It unsettled her that she remembered such small things.
She barely knew anything about him except that he was dangerous. Men like that Hamza and the bald guy didn’t move around ordinary people the way they moved around him. There had been too much loyalty and too much instinctive respect in the way they spoke to him.
Any sensible girl would want nothing to do with a man like that.
Yet her house somehow felt emptier without him in it.
Reem washed her hands slowly at the sink, staring absently at the water running pink for a moment before disappearing down the drain. Her thoughts circled back to him again despite herself, to the way he had looked back at her before leaving, how his eyes had lingered like he was trying to memorize her face.
Her brows pulled together slowly, she had told him her name.
But somewhere between the blood, the arguments, the fear, and the strange pull he carried around him, she had never asked for his.
Reem stared down at her hands for a long moment.
She didn’t even know the name of the man she couldn’t stop thinking about.
➡️ So sorry for being late with chapter 4 everyone 😭😭😭😭 I’ve been kinda busy with assignments and stuff and didn’t even realize or remember about this, but thank you for waiting!! 🩷
I’ll try my best to upload the next upcoming chapters earlier to make up for this ☺️
(Please tell me i did the taglist right, my first ever one lmao, and anyone who wants to be added and hasn’t been, let me know in the comments thank you!)
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Taglist 💗
@certainteapolice-47 @debsreads21 @maroonphase
@gulaabjamun08 @abolitionistlawpluscoffee
@kriti-ki-dulhania @precioussophia @chai-aur-chaand
@crimsontraditiongolem @sea-breeze-in-my-hair
@teenagenerdrascalsports-blog @somu25
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Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Chapter 2
Chapter 3 ⬇️
His voice was low and gravelly, carrying no gratitude, only suspicion of a man who had spent his life surviving by looking over his shoulder.
Reem swallowed hard.
Her chocolate brown eyes widened as she instinctively tried to pull her wrist back, but his grip only tightened, his thumb pressing firmly into her delicate skin. Up close, he looked even more dangerous than he had the night before, sharp jaw with beard, bruises blooming across his face, and those dark eyes that held far too much caution for a man who had just woken up in a stranger’s bed.
For a second, fear threatened to swallow her whole.
The shy florist in her wanted to run out of her own room and never come back. But then something inside her shifted. Why was she standing here afraid of the very man she had dragged into safety? Why was she shrinking in front of someone whose life had been in her hands just hours ago?
“Main woh hoon jisne tumhari jaan bachayi hai. Agar tumhe marna hota, toh main tumhe sadak par hi chhor deti.”
(I’m the one who saved your life. If I wanted you dead, I would’ve left you on the road.)
For the first time since waking up, Uzair faltered.
His grip loosened, just for a second, as pieces of last night came rushing back to him, the blood loss, the blurred streetlights, the sound of her voice fighting through the darkness. Reem took the chance immediately, pulling her wrist free and stepping back in haste, rubbing at the spot where his fingers had left their mark.
His gaze followed her, then shifted upward to the ridiculous pink dupatta tied around his wrist and looped around the wooden bedpost.
He looked at it then at her, throwing her one silent look that said everything.
She had really thought that would stop him?
Without a word, he reached with his free hand and started untying it himself.
Reem panicked, looking around for anything she could use, and the first thing her hand landed on was her wooden hairbrush. She grabbed it and pointed it at him like some kind of weapon.
“Rukiye! Main kholungi” (Stop! I’ll open it)
To her surprise, he actually stopped.
Midway through untying himself, he looked at her as though she had grown a second head. His eyes dropped to the hairbrush, then slowly lifted back to her face, one eyebrow rising in disbelief.
“Phir kholo,” (Open it then) he said, his voice edged with impatience.
“Pehle wada kijiye ke aap koi harkat nahi karenge,” (First promise that you won’t do anything) Reem says, trying to sound much braver than she felt.
He rolled his eyes, already looking tired of her.
“Kuch nahi karunga, Mujhe bas khol do” (I won’t do anything, just untie me)
Reem bit her lower lip, thinking. For a brief second, she noticed his eyes flicker to her lips before he looked away again, which made her even more nervous.
Still holding the hairbrush like it was some sacred protection, she stepped closer and carefully untied the dupatta. As soon as his arm was free, he stretched it with a low groan, the muscles stiff from being held in that awkward position all night.
A small flicker of guilt passed through her.
Uzair shifted, trying to sit up properly, but pain tore through his side so sharply that his breath caught. He lifted the edge of his olive green kurta and looked down at the clean bandages, the stitched wound, the careful dressing.
His eyes flickered to her.
Reem stepped forward before she could stop herself keeping the hairbrush aside, she placed her hand slightly around his forearm and helping him sit up against the headboard. The moment he was steady, she moved away again, putting distance between them like it might calm the strange tension filling the room.
“Tumhare paas jaane ke liye koi jagah hai?” (Do you have any place to go?) she asked softly.
She didn’t know why she asked it. Maybe because he looked like the kind of man who belonged nowhere. Or because she couldn’t imagine someone this guarded sitting at a dinner table with a family waiting for him.
Uzair narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Tumne yeh nahi bataya ke tum kaun ho.” (You didnt answer my question asking who you were)
Reem frowned at him.
What was with all this suspicion?
“Mera naam Reem hai. Yeh mera ghar hai. Kal raat main ne tumhe meri dukaan ke bahar dekha tha—aadhe behosh, khoon mein doobe huye. Isliye main tumhe yahan le aayi aur—”
(My name is Reem. This is my home, last night i saw you outside my shop, half unconscious, bleeding heavily. So i brought you here and-)
“Koi bhi aadmi ko ghar le aati ho?” (Do you bring any man home?)
He cut her off so suddenly that she just stared.
For a second, she genuinely wondered if he had hit his head harder than she thought.
Then she folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin.
“Nahi,” she said flatly. “Sirf khoon mein doobe huye, badtameez ajnabi.” (No. Just bleeding rude strangers)
For a moment, silence sat between them.
“Tumhein zyada ehtiyaat karni chahiye,” (You should be more careful) he said, adjusting himself carefully against the headboard.
“Lyari un larkiyon ke liye meherbaan nahi hoti jo itni jaldi bharosa kar leti hain.” (Lyari isn’t a place that’s gentle with girls who trust people too quickly).
Reem frowned, softer this time.
“Mujhe pata hai… lekin main tumhe wahan chhor kaise deti? Tum mar jaate.” (I know that…but how could i leave you just like that? You would have died)
“Yeh sab kisne kiya tumhare saath?” (Who did this with you?)
That made him pause.
For the first time, he really looked at her, the woman in the blue kameez stained with his blood who had dragged a half dead stranger into her home and stitched him back together because she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving someone to die.
She was brave.
He ignored her question, because some answers belonged to a world she had no business stepping into.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, the pain in his side tightening his expression.
“Mere paas jaane ke liye jagah hai,” he admitted quietly. (I do have a place to go to)
His mind flickered to Rehman Bhai, to Ulfat Bhabhi, and to those idiots, Hamza, Donga, Siyahi.
His family.
Reem glanced at the fresh bandage beneath his kurta and shook her head.
“Mujhe nahi lagta aap aaj kahin jaa rahe hain.” (I dont think you can go anywhere today)
His eyebrow lifted.
“Maaf kijiye?” (Sorry?)
“Aap mushkil se seedha baith paa rahe hain. Aise lag raha hai bas abhi apne aba-o-ajdaad se milne wale hain.” (You can barely sit up straight. It looks like you’re about to go meet your ancestors any moment now.)
Reem regretted her words instantly.
“Mera matlab-” (I mean-)
“Samajh gaya,” (I understood) he muttered, leaning back.
She cleared her throat, trying to recover.
“Toh… khud jaane ke bajaye kisi ko bula nahi sakte? Jo aapko le jaaye?” (So… instead of going by yourself you cant call anyone? To come take you?)
If she was honest, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted him gone because he scared her, or because his presence was starting to feel far too natural inside her home.
Uzair instantly searched his kurta for his phone, finding nothing.
His eyes lifted to hers immediately giving her a pointed look.
Reem glared.
“Maine kuch nahi liya. Aur na hi tumhari koi cheez dekhi hai,” she said quickly, before he could accuse her. (I havent taken anything. And nor have i seen anything of yours)
He looked entirely unconvinced.
“Kaun jaane,” he said coolly, “shayad isi liye ghar le aayi ho.” (God knows) (Maybe thats why you’ve brought me home)
Reem stared at him in disbelief before letting out a dry, humorless laugh.
“Haan, bilkul. Yehi mera shaitani plan tha. Ek behosh, khoon mein dooba hua aadmi ghar lao, apni pasandida kameez kharab karo, bedsheets barbaad karo, gaari ki seat bhi… sirf tumhara purana phone churaane ke liye.”
(Yes, exactly. That was my evil plan. Bring an unconscious, blood-soaked man home, ruin my favorite kameez, destroy my bedsheets, even my car seat… all just to steal your old phone.)
Uzair watched her quietly now, no one in lyari spoke to him like that.
And old?
Seeing him not care or respond only made her more frustrated so she stepped closer and pointed a finger at him.
“Tumhein pata hai tum kitne bhaari ho? Main tumhe seedhiyan chadhaate hue khud APNE aba-o-ajdaad se milne wali thi.” (Do you know how heavy you are? I was almost going to meet MY ancestors while carrying you up the stairs.)
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
For a second, he almost laughed.
Did this woman even know who she was talking to?
Reem rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath, before walking off.
A few minutes later she returned from the kitchen with a glass in her hand and placed it on the bedside table near him.
“Yeh lo. Thoda lemon water hai… peelo,” (Take this, its lemon water drink it) she said, trying to sound casual, though the instinct to take care of him kept slipping through.
Uzair glanced at it, then at her.
Without saying anything, he took a sip.
Almost immediately, his expression changed slightly.
“Meetha kam hai,” (It lacks sweetness) he said flatly.
Reem blinked.
Then let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
“Toh? Chup chap pee lo” (So? Drink it quietly)
This time, something almost like amusement flickered in his eyes that someone just told THE uzair baloch to basically shut up, but he didn’t argue further, just drank it anyway.
She rolled her eyes, but there was less sharpness in it now.
“Lo. Mera phone use karo aur jisey bulaana hai-” (Here, use my phone and call whoever-)
Before she could finish, a hard knock slammed against the front door, so sharp it cut through the quiet of the apartment.
They both freeze.
Reem’s eyes snapped toward the entrance, her phone still half stretched in Uzair’s direction as if she had forgotten it existed. For a moment she just stood there, listening to the silence stretch after the knock, her heartbeat already rising in her throat without her permission.
When she looked back at him, her eyes were wide and uncertain.
Uzair’s entire expression had changed in that brief second. The laziness, the faint amusement from before, all gone. In its place was something colder, sharper, fully alert. His body had already shifted instinctively as if preparing for impact, his attention fixed on her rather than the door.
“Kisi ka intezaar kar rahi ho?” (Are you expecting anyone?) he asked quietly, his voice lower than before, controlled in a way that made it heavier.
Reem shook her head immediately, though her heartbeat was loud enough she was sure it filled the room.
“Kisi ko bataya tha ke main yahan hoon?” (Did you tell anyone I’m here?) he followed, even quieter now, the suspicion threading through his words like a warning.
Reem’s brows pulled together slightly. The question unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. Was he a criminal?
Before she could answer properly, another knock came harder this time, more impatient, like whoever stood outside already owned the right to enter.
Reem exhaled shakily and took a step forward, despite the small voice in her head telling her not to. Uzair’s voice cut through immediately, sharper now.
“Kya kar rahi ho?” (What are you doing?) he whispered, trying to push himself up almost grabbing her despite the pain tightening his side. His movement was unsteady, restrained by injury, but the instinct to stand was stronger than logic. If something was wrong, he couldn’t afford to stay down.
Reem didn’t respond. She didn’t even look back properly. Instead, she took a slow breath, as though gathering courage from somewhere deeper than fear, and whispered “Bismillah” under her breath before unlatching the door.
She didn’t even know why she felt scared. The room behind her was just her home, and yet the weight of the moment made it feel like she was opening something far more dangerous than wood and metal.
The door barely opened halfway when the air inside the apartment seemed to shift.
The first man standing there filled the frame completely. Bald, heavyset, and broad enough that the doorway itself looked smaller around him. His dark maroon kurta stretched over a solid build.
Beside him was a stark contrast.
The second man looked calmer, almost composed in a way that didn’t match the situation. His dark hair fell loosely, slightly messy across his forehead like he had been running his hands through it all night and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing steady muscular hands. His posture was relaxed almost lazy.
But his eyes were sharp.
Like he had already noticed every detail, her trembling hands, her tiny home, and the lie she was about to tell.
“J… ji?” (Y..yes?) Reem managed, hating how unsteady her voice sounded.
She kept the door only partially open, instinctively trying to block their view inside, as if that could undo the fact that the situation already felt exposed.
The man with the loose hair spoke first, his tone polite but direct, cutting through her hesitation.
“Hum ek lambe aadmi ko dhoond rahe hain,” (We’re searching for a tall man) he said evenly. “Hume lagta hai raat us par hamla hua tha. Kya aap ne kahin dekha hai use?” (We think he was attacked last night, Have you seen him?)
From inside the room, Uzair shifted again, trying to sit up further, his jaw tightening as pain pulled through his side. His focus stayed on the door, not hearing the voices clearly, but the instinct in him was. If something was wrong, he wouldn’t stay lying down for it.
Reem swallowed before answering, forcing herself to sound normal.
“Nahi… main ne kisi ko nahi dekha. Mujhe samajh nahi aa raha aap kis ki baat kar rahe hain.” (No…I didnt see anyone, I dont understand who you’re talking about)
For a brief moment, it seemed like that might be enough.
His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he added, almost casually but with clear intent, “Phir yeh batao… gaari ki seat par aur tumhare kapron par yeh khoon kaisa laga hua hai?” (Then on the car seat and on your clothes, how come there’s blood?)
The words landed heavier than she expected.
Reem felt her throat tighten instantly, her mind scrambling for an explanation that didn’t exist. Her grip on the door edge stiffened as silence pressed in from both sides, behind her, the injured stranger she had brought home and in front of her, two men who clearly weren’t here by accident.
This chapter ended up being way longer than the 1 and 2 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲
do you take fic related requests? i LOVE your work by the way.
Thank you so much, I’m so glad that you love my work that means alot!! 🥹🥹
I’ve only just started posting stories and stuff since I used to write some YEARSSS ago, but I barely ever posted them
Lately, i HAVE thought about starting to take requests and making more fics, for which you guys will be the first to know, don’t worry!
Maybe after I’m done with the Uzair fic, I’ll let you all know!!
Once again, thank you so much for all your love!! 💗
Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 ⬇️
The car screeched to a halt at her doorstep, Reem didn’t care about the bad parking as her mind was a mix of adrenaline and sheer panic.
This man was a dead weight now, his consciousness already surrendered to the dark.
With a grunt, Reem draped his massive arm over her shoulders once more. Her small frame nearly buckled under him. She dragged him, inch by agonizing inch, toward the door. Her hands fumbled with the keys, the metallic jingling sharp in the quiet Lyari night, before she finally barged inside.
Her apartment was small and smelled of lavender, a stark contrast to the iron scent of blood now invading her space. She managed to move him past the sofa and onto her bed. It was the only place where he could lie flat, though his legs nearly hung off the edge.
Reem was breathless, her chest heaving as she wiped sweat from her forehead. She hurried to her emergency medical drawer, a collection of supplies she had kept for "just in case" moments that had never arrived until tonight.
Returning to the bedside, she stared at him. For a moment, she considered removing the olive-green kurta entirely, but a flash of shyness gripped her.
Instead, she gingerly peeled the fabric upward, pinning it beneath his chest to expose the jagged tear in his side.
She drew in a sharp breath, as she saw the raw depth of the gash.
Reem drew in a sharp breath as she saw the raw depth of the gash.
She moved on pure instinct. With zero formal training, she relied on the steady hand she used for delicate floral arrangements. She cleaned the area with antiseptic, her stomach churning at the sight of the crimson-soaked water. Then, taking a deep breath, she began to stitch. Every time the needle pierced his skin, Uzair stirred, a low, subconscious rumble of pain vibrating in his throat.
"Bas, bas...ho gaya" (There, there...it's done) she murmured, more to soothe herself than him.
Once the wound was closed and covered with a large white dressing, she sat back on her heels, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. The bleeding had stopped. The immediate threat of death had retreated, leaving behind many questions.
Only now, in the stillness, did she truly see him. He had been brutally handled. Dark bruises were blooming like ink under his skin, and his lip was badly split.
Who is he? And what kind of world does he live in to end up like this?
She pushed the thoughts aside, going to fetch a small bucket of warm water and a fresh towel. With gentleness she began to wipe away the dirt and blood. She wiped his neck, his broad shoulders, and the sharp lines of his face, cleaning away the sweat until his rugged features looked almost peaceful in the dim light. She applied a cooling ointment to his bruised skin and his busted lip, her fingers lingering for a fraction of a second too long on the heat of his skin.
Finally, she stood up, catching her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a wreck, her baby blue salwar kameez was ruined, stained with his blood, and her hair was a wild nest around her face. She desperately wanted a shower, but fear held her back.
What if he wakes up while I’m behind a locked door?
She couldn't take the risk.
To ensure her own safety, she found an old, sturdy pink coloured dupatta. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she looped the fabric around his right wrist, securing it tightly to the metal pole of her headboard. It felt cruel, but it was a necessary shield for a woman living alone.
Exhaustion finally hit her like a physical blow. Reem stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed, her body aching from the night's labor. She cast one last, lingering look at the man on her bed, the stranger who had crashed into her quiet life before her eyelids grew too heavy to hold. As the hum of the AC filled the room, Reem drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, the scent of antiseptic and lavender lingering in the air.
The morning sun spilled into the house, cruel and bright, cutting through the haze of Reem’s sleep and exhaustion. She shifted on the sofa, a sharp ache in her back from the awkward sleeping position. With a groan, she arched her back, stretching her stiff limbs until the fog in her brain cleared and then, reality hit her like a bus
The man.
She whipped her head toward the bed. He was still there, lying motionless under the hum of the AC.
Reem stood up and padded softly towards the bed. Her heart began that familiar, frantic drumming against her ribs. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they neared the hem of his olive kurta. She just needed to see the bandage if her amateur handiwork had held through the night.
But the second her skin made contact with the fabric, he came to life with terrifying speed.
A large, calloused hand clamped around her wrist with an iron grip.
Reem let out a sharp yelp, her instinct to run kicking in, but he was faster. With a sudden, powerful yank, he pulled her toward him. She lost her footing, nearly collapsing onto his broad chest, only managing to save herself by placing her free arm against the mattress.
She was trapped in his space, her face inches away from his. Uzair was fully awake, his eyes sharp, piercing, and dangerous. The bruises she had cleaned the night before only made him look more lethal. Despite the dupatta binding his other arm, he held her with an effortless, crushing strength that made her wince.
His gaze raked over her noticing the bloodstains on her baby blue kameez, the disheveled braid, and the sheer terror written across her soft features.
“Kaun ho tum?” (Who are you?)
Sach Se Pehle Mohabbat
Summary:
Reem, a woman living quietly on her own, crosses paths with a wounded stranger one night and chooses to help him never knowing who he really is. As fate keeps pulling them back together in chance encounters, a fragile connection begins to form. But behind his silence lies a dangerous truth, he is part of a feared gang she’s only ever heard whispers about. And when the truth finally surfaces, their love may already be too deep to escape.
Chapter 1
The humid night air of Lyari hung heavy with the scent of salt and diesel, but inside Reem’s modest stall, it was taken over by the sweet, fading perfume of jasmine and roses. Reem moved with a practiced, gentle grace, her small 5’2” frame weaving between the buckets as she gathered the day’s remnants.
Being an orphan had taught her the art of silence and the necessity of self-reliance. Since the day her mother took her last breath bringing her into the world, a debt of guilt Reem carried like a physical weight as she moved through foster homes like a ghost. Now, she had a small house, a flower shop, and a life built on the humble earnings of a florist. She was soft and a bit chubby on the plump side, with a birthmark tucked like a secret under the left corner of her full lower lip.
She checked her watch, 10:00 PM.
A jolt of anxiety shot through her. Lyari at this hour was no place for a woman alone. She hurriedly pulled the metal shutters down, the clatter echoing too loudly in the vacant street. Just as she turned to leave, a low, guttural grunt sliced through the silence.
“Ugh...ya khuda...” (oh god…)
Reem froze, her chocolate-brown eyes widened, scanning the dim shadows around her. A few paces away, a tall man stumbled into the light of a flickering streetlamp before collapsing heavily against the cobblestones right in front of her shop.
Fear screamed at her to run, but her heart, the same heart that spent its weekends teaching orphans for free wouldn't let her. She knelt beside him, her sky blue salwar kameez rustling.
“Arrey! Aap... aap theek hain?” (Are you... are you okay?) Her voice trembled, thick with a concern that quickly over took her terror.
The man was dressed in an olive-green kurta pajama, now darkened by a terrifying, spreading slick of crimson. His face, sharp and rugged, was drenched in a cold sweat, his jaw clenched in an agony so deep it seemed to vibrate off him. He wasn't unconscious, but he was drifting.
Reem reached out, her small hand trembling as she moved his arm away from clutching his side, she gasped, the sound caught in her throat. A deep, jagged gash likely from a blade or a knife, something sharp had torn through the fabric and his flesh.
“Ya Allah, yeh kaise...ek minute! Bas ek minute, ghabrayein mat!” (Oh God, how did this... one minute! Just one minute, don't be afraid!) She adjusted her falling dupatta with frantic movements, her mind racing.
He was a broad-shouldered solidly built man, like he’d been shaped by years of some physical work rather than a gym, and she was made of something quieter, softer like she belonged to a world untouched by men like him.
She fisted the fabric of his kurta at his chest, trying to prop him up, to put him into a seating position. “Aap rukiye, main abhi aayi!” (Stay here, I’ll be right back!)
Reem bolted towards the nearby parking lot where her pride and joy, a small car gifted by her school friends was parked. She could have tried to drag him here, but with the way he’s built, it would’ve been nearly impossible. She drove it back to the shop in a blurred frenzy, tires screeching as she shifted into neutral and leapt out right infront of her shop.
The man’s breathing was coming in heavy rattles now, Reem braced herself as she draped his massive arm over her shoulders. The weight was immense, nearly folding her small frame and making them both fall, but she gritted her teeth, grunting and struggling until she managed to guide him into the passenger seat. His blood smeared across her clothes, a hot, metallic reminder that this is real.
As she peeled away from the curb, she glanced at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She reached over, shaking his shoulder gently.
“Uthiye! Aankhein khole rakhein…Aapka naam kya hai? Baat karein mujhse!” (Wake up! Keep your eyes open….What is your name? Talk to me!)
He turned his head slowly, his vision a fractured mosaic of sky blue and the soft, blurred features of a girl who looked like she belonged in a prayer, not a crime scene. He let out a ragged breath, a drunken shake of his head his only answer, he wouldn't give her a name.
Reem let out a frustrated, shaky sigh.
The nearest hospital was two hours away through checkpoints and dangerous territory. If she took him there, he might bleed out before they even hit the main road.
“Ya Allah... main kya kar rahi hoon” (Ya Allah…. What am i doing?) she whispered to herself, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Umeed hai main sahi kar rahi hoon... aur yeh aadmi mere hi ghar mein mujhe maar na de.” (I hope I'm doing the right thing... and this man doesn't end up killing me in my own home.)
A faint, pained cough erupted from the man but his strength had evaporated. His head lolled against the window, his body going limp as the darkness finally claimed him.
Reem bit her lip, a stray strand of her long, wavy black hair escaping her braid as she turned onto the narrow path leading to her house. She looked at his pale, sweating face one last time before the engine's hum filled the silence of her resolve.
“Inshallah, aap theek ho jayenge...” (Inshallah you’ll get better…) she prayed silently.
“Inshallah.”
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Hello everyone!!!
This is actually my first time properly writing and sharing a story, I’ve tried so before, but I never really had the courage to post anything. Howeverrrrr after seeing so many Uzair stories, I don’t know why it still feels like it’s not enough LMFAO
So here I am, finally giving in and writing my own. I’m not sure if this is good or not, but I’d genuinely love all your feedback, I’m open to anything!!
And do tell me honestly, should I continue this?
Hope you enjoyed chapter 1!! ❤️❤️❤️