Hazel tried to balance the silver tray in her hands, praying she wouldn’t drop anything this time. Weddings always made her nervous — too many people, too much noise, too many chances to make a mistake.
She brushed her glasses up her nose and stepped forward… only to trip on the corner of the carpet.
The tray tilted.
Her heartbeat stopped.
And in that exact second, a firm hand came out of nowhere, steadying her wrist before anything could fall.
Hazel looked up — and froze.
A tall man in a charcoal sherwani, eyes dark as a winter night, stared back at her. Serious. Calm. A little confused.
He let go of her hand slowly, as if surprised he had reached out at all.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
Hazel’s cheeks turned warm. “S-Sorry… thank you.”
He nodded once before walking away — but not without glancing back over his shoulder.
Hazel didn’t know his name.
She didn’t know he was the groom’s reserved, workaholic cousin.
She didn’t know her life had just shifted.
But Haris?
He knew one thing the moment he saw her —
he wasn’t going to forget those eyes anytime soon.
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