Okay, guys… honest opinion chahiye.

Do you think my book is actually good?

Like, is it worth it?

Can I even think about publishing it?

Would you ever invest your money in it?

And most importantly  does it even have a proper plot?

Agar haan, toh please mujhe samjhao ki meri story ka plot kya hai… ek chhoti si summary hi de do.

Because honestly, mujhe khud samajh nahi aa raha mein kya likh rahi hoon. Just going with the flow.

Help me out, please…

🥺👉🏻👈🏻

(Sach kahu toh I'm receiving some negative feedback 🥺)

..........

HIS POV

It’s been a few days now, and Izel’s still lying in that bed, her frailty tugging at my heart.

She’s been battling a fever, her body too weak to even get out of bed. And here I am, trying to hold it together, trying to be the one who takes care of her.

Ever since the night she broke down, revealing her childhood trauma to me, I’ve seen a side of her that I wasn’t prepared for vulnerable, fragile, and yet so strong in her own silent way.

This morning, like every other, I went to the gym needed to clear my head. I pushed myself through the workout, trying to focus on the burn, but all I could think about was her.

The way her soft whispers seemed to echo in my mind.

“Hmmm….thand lg rhi h Irfaz” she clinged to me with her hot body.

Hot toh ase bhi h bt fever mein suraj lg rhi h.

The way she needed me now, more than ever.

I walked back to the my home still trying to shake off the weight of the past few days.

The penthouse always felt empty when she wasn’t moving around, filling it with her presence.

I took a quick shower, needing to freshen up. As I stood under the cold water, I thought about last night when she mentioned how badly she wanted Paneer Paratha.

Her feverish eyes had lit up when she spoke of it. The craving had been so strong that I promised I’d make it for her, no matter how much I dreaded the idea.

I smiled to myself as I stood in the kitchen, ready to try something I’d never done before.

I searched for a recipe on YouTube Paneer Paratha.

A few minutes in, and I was already feeling the heat of the kitchen mixing with my nerves.

The flour was sticky, the paneer stuffing was clumpy, and I could feel my failure lurking with every wrong flip of the paratha.

"Why the hell did I think I could do this?" I muttered to myself.

Its not like i dont know how to cook. Bt i just know pasta, salad, smoothies and coffee, i nevr tried to cook something desi food.

“Shi kehte h log shaadi ke baad zindagi badal jti h” i muttered.

After marriage, you start to do things you’d never dream of. The love you have for her becomes a constant obligation, not in the way it feels like a burden, but because you can’t help but want to take care of every little thing.

The way her command becomes love something unspoken, but clear.

Her little wishes feel like instructions. And so, here I was, failing at cooking something that she was craving.

But somehow, even as I struggled, I felt... content.

There’s a strange peace in knowing that this was just another way I was showing her how much I cared.

Even if I couldn’t cook well, even if the paratha wasn’t perfect, I knew I was trying.

It took me 4 attempts to make it eatable.

With a sigh, I took the parathas off the stove and turned to check on her, hoping she’d feel a bit better soon. Maybe not physically, but at least emotionally.

My heart ached seeing her so weak. The least I could do was make sure she had a decent meal when she finally woke up.

Izel had been lying there for days, barely moving, and it was breaking my heart to see her so weak.

Her fever wasn’t getting any better, and I couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at me.

She had barely eaten anything in the last few days, so I made sure to prepare something she would enjoy, hoping it would help her regain some strength.

I stepped into the bedroom, holding the parathas on the plate.

"Izel," I said softly, sitting by her side.

"Izel," I whispered again, my voice soft but steady.

"Wake up, jaan. I made your favorite."

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and she looked at me, her gaze distant, as if she hadn’t fully come back from the haze of her fever.

It worried me, the way she seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness.

I couldn’t stand seeing her like this.

"I made Paneer Paratha. It’s not perfect, but... it’s made with a lot of love."

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze soft and distant.

A small smile tugged at her lips, and for a moment, I felt like everything might just be okay

‘Joru ka gulam’  they say.

But sometimes, it feels like the smallest gestures like making a paratha speak louder than words ever could..

Carefully, I scooped her up in my arms, holding her close to my chest as I walked her to the washroom.

I placed her down gently, watching her movements carefully, as though I was afraid she might break into a thousand pieces if I wasn't careful.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her, and I waited outside, pacing nervously.

When she came out, she was slower than usual, but at least she was up.

She lay back down on the bed, looking exhausted. It pained me to see her like that. There was nothing more I wanted than for her to feel better, to see her smile and be the strong woman I knew she was, but right now, all I could do was be there for her.

I didn’t wait long. My heart thudded against my ribs, anxious. I couldn’t let her lie there like this.

I lifted her again, this time more carefully, and walked her to the dining table.

She barely had the strength to protest, but that wasn’t what concerned me. I just needed her to eat, to get her energy back.

When I set her on the chair, I noticed how weak she still looked. Her eyes were still heavy with exhaustion. I pulled her into my lap, not caring about how it looked, just needing to feel her close to me.

She didn’t resist.

Instead, she settled into me, and I felt a strange calm wash over me. She needed this, and so did I.

I tore off a piece of paratha with my hand clumsy, but who cared and gently brought it to her lips.

"Eat, Izel," I whispered, my voice thick with the emotion I couldn’t hide.

"Please. For me."

She took the bite, her gaze locking with mine soft, grateful and for a moment, it felt like the world had paused.

That small act… it felt like everything.

After three bites, she murmured, “Hmm…nhi khana or mujhe.”

I panicked a little, thinking maybe she didn’t like it. So, I tasted it in front of her.

“Itni bhi buri nhi bani… khane layak hai,” I said, shrugging.

She clung to me like a koala, leaning her full weight on me as she mumbled,

“Aisi baat nhi hai, Irfaz… mashallah bohot achi bani hai. Shukriya mere liye banane ke liye.”

“Aise kaise?” I nudged her gently.

“Half paratha toh khao kam se kam.”

“Irfaz, zubaan mein taste hi nahi hai… fever ki wajah se. Mujhe achha nahi lag raha kuch bhi khane ka,” she said quietly.

“Achha… ruk jao phir,” I said, helping her back into the chair.

She slumped forward, resting her head on the table.

I went to the kitchen and returned with a handful of raisins and a glass of warm water.

“Yeh lo,” I said, placing the raisins in her hand.

She ate them one by one, still keeping her head down. I gave her the water she managed to drink half.

(Reb: try this hack agr muh mein swad na ho toh rasins re best options to get our taste buds restore

—-

Later, I brought her to the balcony and sat her down on the swing.

Gently, I combed through her hair and braided it.

When I was done, I pulled her back into my arms, holding her close for a while.

But soon, I felt the warmth of her body rising again her fever was back.

I carried her to the bedroom and gave her the meds she needed.

Once I’d completed my duties as the unofficial joru ka ghulaam, I finally checked my phone.

A message from Zayn blinked on the screen.

The meeting an important one. I couldn’t afford to miss it.

But when I looked at Izel still curled up in my lap, her breathing soft, her body weak my heart clenched.

She hated feeling like a burden, and I hated the idea of leaving her like this.

But I had responsibilities. I had to be there… even when every part of me wanted to stay.

Carefully, I shifted her back onto the chair and adjusted a cushion behind her.

I kissed her forehead gently.

"Izel, I have to attend a meeting. It’s urgent," I murmured, running my fingers through her hair.

She didn’t say anything just blinked slowly, too tired to respond.

But I couldn’t walk out like this, not without doing something more.

"I’m calling the doctor. They’ll come and take your blood samples, just to be sure you’re okay."

She gave a faint nod, her eyes fluttering shut again.

That guilt it stayed, heavy in my chest. But I had to trust that she’d be alright for a few hours.

I called the doctor, explained the situation, and asked them to come as soon as possible.

Once the call ended, I stood there, watching her for a long moment.

"I’ll be back soon, okay? Just rest. The doctor’s on the way."

And then… I had to leave.

It felt like tearing a part of myself away, but I knew I had to do it. I turned toward the door, then paused one last look at her, fragile but safe.

That ache in my chest?

It never left.

—-

The meeting felt like it dragged on forever, and I couldn’t shake the image of Izel lying there, looking so weak, from my mind.

Every minute away from her felt like an eternity, and I was desperate to get back to her.

Finally, I arrived home, my car barely screeching to a stop before I was out of it, heading straight toward the door.

As soon as I stepped inside, I called out to her.

“Izel?”

But the house was eerily quiet.

No soft hum of her presence, no gentle sound of her breathing.

“Izel?” I called again, my heart beginning to race. Something didn’t feel right.

I checked the kitchen, my heart thumping louder with each empty room.

No sign of her.

The balcony was empty too, and when I stepped into the bedroom, I called her name again, this time louder, my voice cracking with a mix of panic and fear.

But she wasn’t there.

The only place left to check was the washroom.

My legs carried me there on autopilot, every step feeling heavier than the last.

My mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios, the terrifying thoughts of what could have happened in the short time I was gone.

I reached the washroom door and pushed it open.

What I saw stopped my heart in its tracks.

Izel.

Her body was lying motionless on the cold floor.

Her skin was pale, her body limp, and the world around me seemed to tilt and blur.

I could barely hear anything over the blood rushing in my ears.

“Izel!” I shouted, rushing to her side, panic flooding my veins.

I bent down, cradling her head in my hands, my fingers shaking as I gently touched her face.

Her skin was cold, and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest, fear choking the air from my lungs.

I tried to stay calm, my mind scrambling for what to do. I needed to get her up, get her help.

“Izel, please. Open your eyes, please!” I begged, my voice raw.

But she didn’t stir.

Nothing.

My world felt like it was falling apart in that one horrifying moment.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think straight.

I needed to act.

Fast.

My hands moved without thinking, carefully lifting her into my arms.

I whispered her name over and over, as though my voice could somehow wake her and me from this nightmare.

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t.

I was losing her, and I couldn’t bear it.

.........

ATTENTION 🙈

(WRITER NOTE)

Did Izel take something she wasn't supposed to?

Is she gone?

Izel or Irfaz ki Adhuri kahani?

Kya irfaz ka pyar adhura reh jyega? Inki kahani yahi khtm ha kya?

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