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• Emir •

"You're out of luck mate, she's my wife, Alayna Emir".

His facial muscles contorted, an anger filled through his veins as he clenched his teeth, holding himself back from throwing a punch at the man. The whole claiming her as his wife part had been spontaneous and unexpected — atleast to him. Both he and Alayna had decided to refer to themselves as friends, in the most platonic of ways, but by the victorious grin on her face it would seem as if she had won a bet. As if to further ensure that the man – whatever his name was – understood how serious he was, Emir rested his hand on Alayna's shoulder, his hands digging into the skin.

"Sorry man I didn't know," he apologized.

"What do you mean? Can you not see this ring on my left ring finger? Ya ap pagol vagol honay keh saath andhay bhi hain?" [Or are you along with being mad, blind also?] Alayna beat him to a reply.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused, agli baar appointment le kar aaiye ga," [next time come with an appointment,] she rolled her eyes, standing up from the desk.

Emir smirked at the offended man, ignoring the powerful urge to poke his tongue out. Alayna's soft baby powder scent mixed with the light jasmine perfume smelt like home, gripping him tight by the throat as she shifted nearer, fixing her dress with awkward motions. His palms flexed, wrapping around her nimble waist squeezing the flesh on the side of her hips out of their own accord. A blush covering her cheeks, and his eyes lowering to the ground out of shyness.

"Anyways, come on Alayna, let's go get something to eat," he whispered into her ear.

Her head moved the smallest of inches in affirmation. Had he not been staring at her like a man madly in love — as his mother so kindly put it later, he would have not noticed the gesture.

"You seem like a good man, if you want I can give you tips on how to keep your wife on a tight leash".

"O bhai itni ghaz jitni zuban mein nai khud kaat deni hai tumhari. Yahi harkatain rahi na tou koi bhi nahi milni shaadi keh liye," [O brother I can cut this meter long tongue of yours. If you keep this attitude you're not going to find anyone who wants to marry you,] Alayna almost screamed.

"See what I mean? Classless".

"You're the only classless man right now, with a dash of mannerless too. I'm pretty good at butchering don't force me to show you my skills at my own brother's wedding. Yeh ghatiya baatein apnay ghar mein rakhain jahan sai yeh tarbiat li hai. Idhr ki na tou seedha jahnam mein jao gai, samjhay?" [Keep these disgusting words limited to your home from where you learnt them. If you use them here you're going straight to hell got it?]

Emir gripped his collar, uttering the words through gritted teeth on Ghafoor's face. Only letting go when the man nodded his head and Alayna rested her hand on his back, reminding him of the location and the situation. In silence, he accompanied his wife to the dinner serving tables, despite them having a private table of their own. It had something to do with an authentic wedding experience — as she put it so kindly. Her auburn hair clashed with the reds of her dress. On anyone else he would have found this look distasteful and nothing more, but on her — on her it seemed to be perfection.

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