She was still standing on that stool, balancing like a toddler learning to walk. I had already warned her, but when has Iman ever listened to me? She'd rather risk breaking her bones than accept my help.
And now, she was busy smirking down at me, thinking she had won some battle of wits. Unbelievable.
"Maybe once or twice," I said, tilting my head with a lazy smirk. "But I don't mind hearing it again."
She rolled her eyes and turned back to search for her book, completely unaware of how unstable her position was. My gaze lingered on her small hands, tracing over the shelves, on the way her brows furrowed in concentration, on the way her lips pursed when she couldn't find what she was looking for.
She was adorable. Infuriating, but adorable.
And then it happened-
I saw it before she even realized it.
Her balance shifted, her foot slipped, and within seconds, she was falling.
"Iman!"
Without thinking, I lunged forward.
Time slowed.
Her eyes widened, a soft gasp left her lips, and she braced herself for impact-
But I caught her.
One arm wrapped around her waist, the other steadying her back as she fell right into me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Her hands clutched onto my shirt, fingers fisting the fabric, her breath warm against my collarbone. I could feel the rapid thudding of her heart, or maybe it was mine.
I looked down at her.
She wasn't looking at me-of course she wasn't. Her lashes were lowered, her cheeks turning that shade of pink I had come to memorize.
"Iman," I said softly.
Nothing.
She was frozen, like a statue carved out of pure shyness.
I smirked. "I told you, Miss Shorty. It didn't take a genius to predict this."
Her body tensed. And then-
"Let. Me. Go." Her voice was tiny, almost trembling.
"Not until you admit you should've let me help you."
She swallowed, still avoiding my gaze. "I hate you."
"And yet, here you are, in my arms," I teased, my voice dipping lower. "Comfortable?"
Her fingers twitched against my shirt.
"No!" she snapped, finally looking up, her face burning red.
I chuckled, but my grip on her didn't loosen.
"Ahad!" she whined. "Put me down!"
"Hmm." I pretended to think. "What if I just... hold you like this for a little longer?"
Her breath hitched. I had never seen her so quiet. So delicate.
It was dangerous the way I wanted to keen her like this Too dangerous.
Before I could let my thoughts wander further, I gently placed her back on her feet.
The moment she stood properly, she staggered back, eyes darting everywhere but me.
I smirked. "See? Would've been better if you just let me help you earlier."
She shot me a glare, but I caught the way she bit her lip, the way she was trying to suppress whatever flustered storm was raging inside her.
And that was enough for me.
For now.
I leaned against the shelf, arms crossed, watching Iman as she huffed, straightened her shoulders, and-because she never learns once again reached for that damned book.
It was adorable, really.
The way she was still slightly pink from before, the way her brows knitted in stubborn determination, the way she whispered "idiot", "badtameez", "show-off", under her breath-each insult making me bite back a smirk.
"Still talking about me, I see," I mused, my voice lazily amused
She shot me a look. "If I were talking about you, Mr. Shah, I'd use much worse words."
"Now that," I tapped my chin, "I'd love to hear."
She ignored me, shifting to her toes again, her fingers barely grazing the book she wanted.
Ya Allah, is this girl serious?
I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Iman, you're-"
"-Perfectly fine!" she cut me off quickly, still trying to reach it.
I raised a brow. "I was going to say too short for this, but sure, let's go with perfectly fine."
She froze mid-reach, twisted slightly, and glared. "You
"Me," I finished for her, stepping forward just as she turned back to grab her book.
I didn't give her a chance to react.
With an ease that only emphasized our height difference, I stepped right behind her, closing the tiny space she had left between us.
Her breath caught.
I felt it.
Heard it.
But she refused to look back.
"Move," she muttered, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
I didn't.
Instead, I reached over her, our height difference making it effortless for me to pull the book from the shelf-
And in the process, my hand brushed against hers.
She went completely still.
I smirked.
Giving her no chance to react, I slowly brought the book down and placed it in her hands.
She took it, her fingers barely gripping it, as if her brain hadn't processed the movement yet.
Still, she refused to turn.
But I wanted her to.
So, I stepped back-just a little. Just enough to let her think she had an escape.
And as expected, she turned around, still clutching that book, still struggling to compose herself-
Only to find herself trapped.
Again.
Her breath hitched.
I smirked down at her, hands now placed casually on either side of the bookshelf, blocking her way.
"Going somewhere, Miss Shorty?"
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
This was too fun.
She had to tilt her head up to look at me properly, the height difference making it almost unfair. And I could see it-the internal battle in her mind, the way she wanted to push me away but couldn't.
Her fingers tightened around the book. "Ahad," she whispered.
"Yes, jaan?"
Her eyes widened at the word, and I swore, for a second, her entire soul glitched.
I leaned in slightly, just enough to invade her space. "You fall a lot, you know."
She swallowed. "I don't-"
I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Hmm. You fell from that stool..."
She glared. "That wasn't my-"
"You fell into my arms..."
Her face burned.
"And now," I murmured, lowering my voice just enough, "you're falling again, aren't you?"
Her grip on the book loosened.
She inhaled sharply, as if trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. But she couldn't, not when I was this close, not when my voice was just low enough to make her shiver, not when our breaths were mixing in the small space between us.
"Ahad," she tried again.
"Hmm?" I tilted my head, eyes never leaving hers.
She stared at me, her lips parting, struggling for a comeback.
She didn't find one.
And that? That was my victory.