Twenty-one candles.

Zoya stared at them as they flickered softly in front of her, the cake glowing in golden frosting, a delicate “Happy Birthday Zoya” etched in cursive on top.

She was twenty-one today.

But she didn’t feel like a girl anymore.

Not after everything she had lived, cried, fought, loved — and survived.

Her hands trembled slightly as everyone around her clapped and cheered. Aarfa was screaming in excitement beside her, and Ayaan had his phone up, recording the entire thing like a proud brother-in-law already. Nida was beaming like she had given birth to Zoya herself.

And then, as the last note of the birthday song faded into the air…

She saw him.

Standing at the back of the crowd — dressed in his signature all-black kurta and a soft expression she could read even from a distance.

Akif.

But he wasn’t alone.

Her eyes widened as she saw them — his entire family.

His Ammi, standing tall in a soft green saree, eyes glistening with pride. His Abbu, calm and respectful, holding a small gift box. Annie — his younger sister — practically bouncing on her feet, whispering something to their mother.

Zoya’s heart skipped a beat.

She didn’t move.

Until Aarfa whispered in her ear, "Look behind you."

And when she turned—

He was there.

Right in front of her now, holding a small velvet box in his hand.

In front of everyone.

The room went silent.

Zoya forgot how to breathe.

Akif slowly bent one knee.

Everything around her slowed.

"I know this is your day," he began, voice deeper than usual, warm and certain, "but I’ve been waiting to make it ours for a long, long time."

Zoya stared, frozen.

“You’re twenty-one today,” he said, smile playing on his lips, eyes swimming with emotions. “And I… I’m twenty-seven.”

Gasps.

A few giggles.

“But what matters to me more than numbers is this — I am now everything your father once said I needed to be.”

He looked across the room at her father, who stood still, watching.

“I have a company. I have a dream that’s finally taking flight. I have my family’s blessings. And above all — I have loved Zoya Sheikh with everything in me since the moment she sat alone in that university library, pretending to read but holding the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Zoya’s lips parted.

"I love you, Zoya," he said simply, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “And today, I’m not asking for forever blindly. I’m asking for it with everything real and earned. So…”

He opened the box.

Inside, a delicate silver ring with a tiny crescent moon carved on the side — her symbol, her softness, her entire essence.

“Will you marry me?”

A second passed.

Two.

Zoya blinked.

She could barely stand.

Aarfa squealed in the background. Nida was already crying. Ayaan had his hand over his mouth.

And then Zoya — laughing through tears — dropped to her knees too.

Right beside him.

“You idiot,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Of course, I will.”

The room exploded in cheers, in claps, in laughter.

Akif slid the ring onto her finger slowly, hands trembling.

Then they stood.

And he pulled her into his arms.

Not hiding anymore.

Not afraid anymore.

Just… together.

---

Later that evening, after all the celebration and hugs and teasing had faded into a dreamy glow, Zoya stood at her window, staring out at the moon.

The soft silver on her finger caught the light.

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

“You still want South Korea?” he asked softly.

She smiled. “Always.”

He chuckled. “Then we’ll go. Honeymoon trip?”

She turned around in his arms, eyes teasing. “Don’t go too fast, Mr. CEO.”

“Oh? But didn’t you just say yes to forever?”

“I did.”

He leaned in, eyes burning gently.

“Then let’s begin.”

---

Yaaaayyyyy finallyyyyy okay so let's get them married hm? Okay so there is a little hint then now they will get married. But, the story isn't over here. It will go long!