The nursery classroom was a riot of colors, tiny chairs, and even tinier humans with oversized emotions.

“Okay babies, now tell me… what comes after B?” Yusra clapped softly, crouching down to their level, her voice dripping with warmth.

“C!” a chorus of squeaky voices replied, some confident, some confused.

“Very good!” she beamed, pressing a sticker onto a chubby cheek. “And what does C stand for?”

A little girl with cute pigtails raised her hand dramatically. “Chocolate!”

Yusra gasped. “Oh my God, my favorite answer.”

Giggles erupted the whole classroom and from the corner, a three-year-old boy with messy hair and sparkling eyes stood up on his chair. “Yushla Miss, C is fol cat also.”

“And Zayan is for genius also,” she teased, gently making him sit. “No standing on chairs, mister.”

Zayan grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

Everything was soft, happy, controlled chaos. Until the door creaked open.

Yusra did not even need to look to know who it was. Her smile dropped for a split second replaced by an annoying and irritating expression before she forced it back on her face like a badly glued sticker.

Vice Principal Fahad Qureshi standing at the door like he just got his oxygen.

She finally looked up and there it was, that stupid smirk on his ridiculously stupid face. Her lips twitched in visible annoyance.

“Oh wow,” Fahad said casually, stepping inside. “Miss Yusra, teaching alphabets like you are solving world poverty.”

The kids giggled again, not understanding but enjoying the tone.

Yusra clasped her hands together, her smile now painfully polite. “Sir, children need attention. Unlike some adults who just need… supervision.”

A couple of ayahs (servant /peon) in the hallway coughed to hide their laughter.

Fahad chuckled as if it were flirting, not that Yusra had just insulted him right to his face. “You always talk to me like this. It hurts, you know.”

“Tragic,” she replied sweetly. “Should I call an ambulance or your ego can survive?”

Before Fahad could reply, a small voice cut in excitedly.

“Mammu!”

Yusra froze and slowly, very slowly, she turned her head.

Zayan was standing on his chair again, waving both hands wildly at Fahad. “Mammu! Mammu loot at me!”

Yusra’s eyes widened in horror. She shot him a death glare that could silence thunderstorms.

Zayan immediately dropped his hands. “Solly miss…” he whispered an apology, sitting down like a guilty kitten.

Fahad smirked, clearly enjoying this. “See, even the kids love me. I don’t know why you don’t like me.”

Yusra forced a laugh that sounded borderline violent. “Children also like cartoons, sir. That does not make cartoons marriage material.”

One of the helpers choked again.

Fahad stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough. “You rejected me, but destiny keeps bringing you to me. Think about it, Yusra.”

She leaned slightly forward, still smiling, her eyes sharp. “Destiny needs better taste.”

He grinned. “I will be observing your class today.”

Her eyes twitched but she composed herself. “Of course,” she said through clenched teeth. “Please observe silently. Children get distracted by unnecessary noise.”

That was the last polite push. Fahad raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Carry on, Miss Yusra.”

He lingered for a second longer than necessary, then finally walked out. The door finally closed behind him and the silence crept into the room once again.

Yusra stood still for exactly three seconds, then turned toward her tiny mouse, who had been overly enthusiastic just a moment ago after spotting his “cartoon uncle.”

“Zayan.”

The poor child visibly shrank. “Yes miss…” he mumbled.

“How many times have I told you,” she walked toward him slowly, hands on her hips, “this is a school. Not your family reunion.”

“Solly miss…” he said again, eyes already glossy.

“No sorry. Stand up.”

He stood up instantly.

“Now tell me. Who am I?”

“You are Phup…. “

“Here?” Yusra interrupted him warningly.

“Yusla miss,” he sniffed.

“And who is he?”

Zayan hesitated, terrified. But seeing Yusra’s raised eyebrow he rushed,  “He is… vice plincipal sil,”

“Good boy,” she nodded. “No mammu. Understood?”

He nodded vigorously. “Undelshood miss.”

Her expression softened just a little but she didn't let her guard down because here she is his teacher not Phupho (Aunty) “Okay,” she said, tapping his nose lightly. “Your punishment.”

He gulped, his lower lip jutting out in a trembling plea as he shook his head vigorously in denial.

“You will help me distribute all the crayons to everyone.”

His eyes widened in relief but the relief didn't last long. “And,” she added, narrowing her eyes, “no eating them.”

A few kids giggled after hearing those words.

“I do not eat clayons,” he protested softly.

She leaned down, whispering, “Good. Because today I might.” He blinked, confused. She added, “and that's not the end of your punishment yet. You are not allowed to draw today.”

“Solly na Ph….Yusla Miss.”

“You need to learn not to repeat your mistakes.” She said while ruffling his hair then she straightened up, clapping her hands again. “Alright babies, back to class. C is for…?”

“Cat!” they shouted.

“And chocolate!” Yusra added with a dramatic sigh.

The class burst into laughter again. But under her smile, her jaw was still tight. Because somewhere out there, Vice Principal Bhadwa was still breathing.

And that alone was enough to ruin her peace.

Yusra Zaidi did not hate people easily. In fact, she was known for her patience. The kind that let her handle twenty screaming toddlers without losing her mind. The kind that made parents trust her instantly.

But Fahad?

He was a very specific exception. Because Fahad was not just her vice principal. He was family. Unfortunately.

Fahad was the son of her phuphi, Ambreen and Ambreen was not just any relative or just a little sister of her Abbu. She was the owner of the very school Yusra worked in.

Which meant two things.

One, Fahad walked around like he owned the place. Which he does apparently.

Two, Yusra had absolutely no escape.

It had all started a year ago when Ambreen had very sweetly, very strategically, sent a proposal for her son.

On paper, it looked perfect. Same family. Same background. Financially stable. Well settled. But Yusra had taken exactly five minutes to reject it.

Because even in those five minutes, Fahad had managed to irritate her enough for a lifetime.

There was something about him. The overconfidence. The unnecessary flirting. The way he spoke like everything and everyone revolved around him and worst of all, the way he assumed she would eventually say yes.

So she had said no. Very clearly. Very firmly. As always, her Abbu respected her decision and didn't force her because his sister asked his daughter's hand for marriage. No. 

And that was where the problem began. Ambreen had smiled that day. A calm, composed smile that had fooled everyone else.

But not Yusra. Because ever since that rejection, that smile had turned into silent revenge.

Yusra was not officially on the school’s payroll. She did not receive a salary.

Because her father has a textile business and her brother runs an import-export business, they don’t allow Yusra to work outside. But Yusra wanted to do something, she didn’t want to just sit at home, and she had no interest in joining the family business. However, her family wasn’t willing to let her take a job elsewhere, so her Abbu allowed her to work at his sister’s school instead.

 It was always presented as a “family contribution.” A temporary help. Something she was doing “out of love.”

In reality, it felt more like unpaid labor with emotional blackmail attached.

She handled the nursery class. She managed decorations. She prepared activity charts. She stayed back for events. She filled in for absent teachers. She even helped with admin work when needed and somehow, no matter how much she did, it was never enough.

“Yusra beta, just this one more thing.”

“Yusra, you are like my own daughter.”

“Yusra, who else can I trust if not you?”

And just like that, another hour, another task, another piece of her energy gone.

On top of all this… there was Fahad. Who, instead of taking the rejection like a normal human being, had decided to turn it into a full-time hobby.

He flirted relentlessly. Shamelessly. At the worst possible times. In the hallway. In the staff room. Outside her classroom.

Sometimes even in front of others, as if embarrassment was just a myth. And the most irritating part?

He found her annoyance amusing.

The more she ignored him, the more persistent he became. The more she insulted him, the more entertained he looked.

Which is exactly why, Yusra had renamed him. Not Fahad. Not sir. Not even by his full name.

Just one word.

Bhadwa.

A title he had absolutely earned. Of course, she always says it out loud whenever it's getting too much for her to take.

But not in front of the children. Not in front of her father. Not in front of her phuphi even when she already had enough reasons to make her life difficult.

So she smiled. She tolerated. She controlled her temper.

But every time he walked into her classroom with that stupid grin, every time he tried to act charming, every time he behaved like rejection was just a phase… Her blood boiled.

And her patience? It survived purely because twenty tiny children were watching her.

Otherwise… Vice Principal Fahad aka Mr. Bhadwa would not have lasted a single day.

The recess bell rang and the classroom instantly turned into a tiny battlefield of lunchboxes, water bottles, and excited chatter.

Yusra finally sat down on her chair, exhaling softly as she opened her own lunch.

Right on cue, a familiar voice chimed from the door. “Permission to enter, Miss Yusra?”

Yusra looked up and her lips curved into a genuine smile this time. “Always.”

Aastha walked in with her lunchbox, settling beside her. She taught primary classes and was one of the very few reasons Yusra had not completely lost her sanity in this place.

But before she could even open her box, her eyes fell on the very gloomy little face of Zayan.

Sitting with his lunch untouched, lower lip pushed out, eyes full of silent protest as he was looking at Yusra.

Aastha frowned. “What happened to him? Why is he not eating?”

Yusra glanced at him, then casually reached out and pulled his cheek.

“Ouch!” he protested softly.

“I didn’t let him eat crayons today… and I didn’t even let him do his drawing.” Yusra said dramatically. “So now he is sulking.”

Zayan frowned harder. “I do not eat clayons.”

Aastha burst out laughing looking at his cute sulking face.

Yusra leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “Eat your lunch. Otherwise no TV at home today.”

Zayan looked at her with pure betrayal in his eyes and wide open mouth of a gasp of disbelief.

Then, without another word, he picked up his lunch and started eating quietly. He looked so ridiculously cute while doing it that both Yusra and Aastha ended up laughing.

“I do not eat clayons,” he repeated again, frowning.

“Yes yes, you do not,” Aastha teased. “Now finish your lunch quickly and go play.”

That was all the motivation he needed. Zayan grabbed his sandwich and ran out of the class while eating it.

Aastha shook her head, smiling. “Why did you scold him like that?”

And just like that, Yusra’s mood dropped again. Her jaw tightened as the morning flashed in her mind.

“That bhadwa…” she muttered, opening her lunch with unnecessary force. “He just walks into my class whenever he feels like it. And this one,” she pointed toward the door where Zayan had disappeared, “starts jumping and shouting mammu mammu like it is some family function. I got so irritated I punished him. No drawing today.”

Aastha let out a laugh. “You are mad. He is his uncle. Of course the kid will get excited. What is his fault if you do not like him?”

Yusra clenched her fists, teeth grinding. “Wo admi mujhse Zeher lagta hai. Zeher. (He feels like poison to me. Pure poison.) I have only spared him because of my sweet Zara bhabhijaan. Otherwise he would have been six feet under by now. I do not understand how she is so nice and these mother son duo are literal monsters. They have made my life hell.”

Aastha laughed even harder.

Yusra shot her a look. “You are finding this funny? If you had got a cousin like him ruining your life, then I would have laughed too.”

Aastha wiped her tears, still chuckling. “In our family, we do not marry cousins.”

Yusra made a miserable face. “Why am I stuck in this mess, ya Allah.” She raised her hands dramatically in the air like she was making a serious dua. “At least send some hero in my life to save me from this bhadwa Fahad and his blood sucking bitch mother. Please.”

“Ameen,” Aastha said instantly. Then she nudged her. “Come on, after school let’s go for a movie. Your favorite hero’s film was released today.”

That finally brought a small smile to Yusra’s face. “That is actually a good idea. After the movie, we will have dinner outside too.” She quickly picked up her phone. “Let me tell Zara bhabhi.” The call connected.

“Hello bhabhijaan,” Yusra said.

From the other side came a breathless voice, “Hello…”

Yusra froze for a second. Then her eyes widened and she immediately covered her mouth, panic flashing across her face.

“Oh my God, bhabhijaan,” she whispered in one breath, “how many times have I told you not to pick calls in the middle of your… activities. You send your son to school and then you both start behaving like rabbits. Why do you want to make a severely single person feel things. I am sending a message, read that.”

She cut the call instantly and Aastha was already laughing uncontrollably as she understood what was happening there.

Yusra started muttering under her breath, embarrassed. “They cannot even handle one child and their activities will definitely bring another one…”

Aastha could not stop laughing.

Yusra quickly typed a message: I am going for a movie with Aastha after school. Please come pick Zayan yourself. Send the driver in the evening when I am free.

She hit send and the recess ended soon after. Aastha left for her class and Yusra went back to teaching like nothing had happened.

The final bell rang at the end of the day. Kids rushed out one by one until the classroom was empty.

Zayan’s father, Zubair aka Yusra’s elder brother, arrived to pick him up himself.

“Bye Phupho.,” Zayan ran to Yusra, hugging her before leaving.

Yusra smiled softly, kissing his forehead. “Go home and do your homework before I come back in the evening.”

He nodded and left happily but peace lasted exactly five minutes. Because right after that, she was summoned to the principal’s office.

Ambreen handed her a pile of report cards. “I need you to write remarks for these.”

Yusra blinked. “But these are not even my class…”

Ambreen smiled sweetly. “You are free after school, right? Just do it at home.”

And just like that, her weekend died.

Yusra walked out of the office, fuming. She marched straight to Aastha’s car and practically threw the report cards on the seat.

“This is too much,” she muttered angrily.

“And what happened now?” Aastha asked.

Before Yusra could reply, a voice came from behind. “No car today? Should I drop you? Where are you going?”

Yusra froze. Then slowly turned.

“Oh bhadwe,” she snapped and lunged toward him.

“Yusra!” Aastha rushed forward and grabbed her before she could actually hit him.

“Leave me,” Yusra struggled, furious. “Today I will show him. You wait, bhadwe. I am going to hell. The place you actually belong. Want to come?”

Fahad smirked. “I will go anywhere with my future Begum.”

That was it. Yusra almost took off her slipper. “Aastha, leave me!”

But Aastha dragged her toward the car before things could turn into a full crime scene.

Fahad stood there, shocked but still amused.

Yusra was still fuming as Aastha pushed her into the passenger seat and shut the door.

The moment she sat down, all that anger mixed with something else. Exhaustion, frustration and helplessness.

Her eyes burned. She wanted to cry. But she did not.

Aastha quietly handed her a bottle of water. “Drink.”

Yusra took it, staring ahead silently.

Aastha sighed softly. “I pray, may God send someone in your life soon who takes you out of this hell. At least you will get rid of this school.”

Yusra let out a humorless laugh, gripping the bottle tightly. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”

The conversation between Yusra and Aastha ended with a shared prayer for escape. Yusra sighed deeply, already dreading the report cards waiting in her bag, while Aastha started the car and drove them toward the theater for their much-needed movie escape.

Meanwhile, in another part of the same world breathed power, money, and blood.

A private lounge on the top floor of a five star hotel in Lucknow. Dim lights. Expensive whiskey. Armed guards standing like shadows and in the center of it all sat Uzair Chaudhry.

Calm, still, dangerous.

Beside him, leaning back was his cousin Badshah Chaudhry. One leg crossed over the other, a smirk permanently stitched on his face.

On the other side sat Zaid Ansari, Uzair's right hand man and his closest friend, relaxed but alert, eyes scanning everything with quiet sharpness.

They had not come from Mumbai for something small.

The reason was solid and non-negotiable: a major arms and smuggling route through Uttar Pradesh had been leaking profits to local rivals for months.

Whispers suggested betrayal from within their own extended network. Uzair never tolerated leaks or half-measures. When the boss himself traveled, it meant heads would roll and deals would be sealed in blood if necessary.

The man across the table, a greasy mid-level supplier named Rafiq, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had called the meeting thinking he could negotiate better terms. Instead, he now faced three men who looked like they owned the fucking world and they do.

Uzair leaned back in his seat, his dark intense brown eyes cold and calculating. His voice carried that signature mix of wit and ruthlessness. "Rafiq, you called us here with promises of loyalty and bigger shares. Yet my sources tell me your last two consignments had missing crates. Explain that before I decide whether your tongue stays attached to your mouth."

Zaid, seated to Uzair's right, smirked and cracked his knuckles while saying to Rafiq in a playful tone. "Boss is being polite today. Usually he skips the explanation part." But the threat was evident in his words.

Badshah, on the left, chuckled and shot a taunt at Zaid. "Polite? This is Uzair being merciful or he would have started with knives already. So, j guess it's either Rafiq’s very lucky day or maybe….last."

Rafiq, sensing the power imbalance and panicking and sweating like a pig who was about to butcher, quickly clapped his hands.

Two young women entered the room, dressed provocatively, smiling as they approached to "entertain" the guests and soften the mood.

One slid toward Badshah and perched on his lap with a giggle. The other moved toward Zaid, settling comfortably in his arms.

Badshah grinned, wrapping an arm around the girl without missing a beat. "Now this is the kind of hospitality I like."

Zaid raised an eyebrow at the girl on his lap but kept his tone light. "Careful, these distractions better not make you forget why we are here."

“Make happy the boss.” Rafiq stammered while gesturing towards Uzair, who was smoking his cigrette.

The two women immediately shifted strategy. The one with Zaid stood up and moved toward Uzair, while the other followed. They approached Uzair with sultry smiles, hands reaching out.

Uzair raised a hand sharply, stopping them cold and the women froze, exchanging uneasy glances, then retreated to the side without argument. Rafiq turned pale.

Uzair fixed his gaze back on Rafiq as he said while releasing a slow stream of smoke. "Now, about those missing crates. You will compensate every single one at double the market rate. The new route goes through my controlled channels only. You get twenty percent of what you thought you deserved. The rest is mine. Sign the papers tonight or the next time I visit Lucknow, it will not be for a meeting."

Rafiq stammered, sweat beading on his forehead, but under Uzair's unrelenting stare, he had no choice. But still he tried to beg. His voice broke. “Sir…This margin is very low. How could I be able to bear the costs and expenses? What will I earn?” 

“I don't like to repeat myself.” Uzair just said that plainly and stood up.

That was the end of the conversation. Deal closed. Profit secured and the man in front of him… ruined.

Badshah saw him ready to leave and growled, dissatisfied because he had lost his chance to fuck a good pussy.

The moment Uzair walked out, Badshah and Zaid followed him. Their guards follow them instantly, and Rafiq stood there like a beggar in his own empire.

The moment they come out Badshah stretched lazily. “What a waste. I was just getting comfortable.”

Uzair shot him a look. “Control yourself.”

“You need a good fuck. You know to calm yourself.” Badshah teased his brother.

“I am not a manwhore like you.” Uzair replied bluntly, and Zaid chuckled.

Badshah gave Zaid a deadly glare but didn't stop teasing his brother.

“At least I won't die, Virgin.” Badshah smirked, and Uzair shook his head with a slaying smirk dancing on his lips.

“Intimacy is not a thing that I will give to anyone. It only belongs to my Zauja Begum, and a bastard like you will never understand that.” Uzair just gave a plain answer, and Badshah shut his mouth.

Badshah waved them off while walking towards other car. “You two continue your emotional bonding. I have better things to do.” He walked off with one of the girls, who came out on his order.

Zaid shook his head. “This man will never change.” Then he turned to Uzair. “Come. Let’s go.”

Uzair narrowed his eyes. “Where?”

Zaid grinned. “You came to Lucknow and you will not eat kebabs?”

Uzair stared at him with a faceless expression.

Zaid continued proudly, “Tunday Kababi. You have not lived if you have not had it.”

Uzair exhaled. “You dragged me across cities for food?”

Zaid smirked. “No. For victory. Food is just a bonus.”

A few minutes later, they were driving through the busy streets of Lucknow. But he calm did not last. Because as soon as they stepped out near the food street, a loud commotion caught their attention.

A girl in the middle of the road was beating a man with her slipper which was so amusing but they way she started cussing it was even more surprising than shocking.

"You bhadwa! How dare you touch me like that? Stay away, or I’ll make sure everyone knows what kind of creep you are!”

The girl turned toward the crowd watching the scene and snapped, “This Bhadwa is harassing a girl in broad daylight, and all of you can only stand here and watch? Spineless people.”

The man dodged, protesting loudly. "She is lying! This is my fiancee. She is just angry with me, a small fight between lovers. Nothing more."

The woman stopped for a second, eyes blazing. "Liar!”

“You are a liar.” The man said then said in a pleading tone. “Baby, I'm sorry…..”

She interrupted sharply. “Shut up! Or I will….”

“You will what? I'm your fiance.” he cut her off hurriedly and said to the crowd. “She came here to meet me and just got angry. Nothing else.”

“No, I am waiting here for my boyfriend. He is coming any minute…..."

The man scoffed. "Do not lie so much. You do not have any boyfriend."

She shot back instantly. "Yes I do. And he is much better looking than you."

And then suddenly her eyes landed on him…

Uzair.

Standing still, watching and for a moment, everything around him blurred. The noise. The crowd. The chaos. All gone and what left was just her.

Her beautiful hazel eyes. Furious and alive as she exclaimed, “Look, he's there. My boyfriend.”

And then she started walking toward him. Fast. Confident. Like she known them for years.

Zaid frowned slightly, confused. Before he could react, she reached Uzair.

“Finally, you are here.” she said breathlessly. “But you are so late. This bhadwa was harassing me in your absence.”

And then… She grabbed his hand.

Uzair stilled completely. Because in all his life… No one had touched him like that. Not like this. Not without permission. Not without fear.

And yet… She held his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And with just that single touch, a jolt of electricity seemed to run through Uzair’s entire body.

Meanwhile Zaid stood beside him, stunned. Boyfriend? Since when?

Uzair did not move, did not speak. He just stood there… looking at her, lost in her beautiful eyes. His gaze drifted to her lips, those very lips that had been showering colorful curses without a hint of fear just moments ago… and now, they were calling him hers.