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Days turned into weeks of silent warfare inside the haveli. Zain and Maryam avoided each other at all costs, yet their paths crossed constantly in the narrow corridors and shared courtyards. Every encounter was a clash of egos, a spark that threatened to light the entire household. One afternoon, as Zain saw Maryam struggling to lift a heavy chest of books in the study, his pride urged him to walk away. But his ziddi dil forced him to step in. He grabbed the handle, his hand brushing against hers. Maryam pulled back as if burned. 'I don't need your help, Zain,' she said coldly. Zain lifted the chest easily, not breaking eye contact. 'I know you don't. But you're going to accept it anyway.'