The Century of Love
"This is the hundredth love story—a tale of Zara and Amir, who meet at a Pakistani British wedding and discover that the best love stories are the ones yet to be written."
The Century of Love
"Apparently there are ninety-nine love stories about Pakistani British couples."
Zara looked at the stranger who'd just interrupted her samosa consumption. Handsome, confident, holding up his phone.
"And?"
"And I think we could be the hundredth." Amir grinned. "I'm Amir. You're beautiful. This is a wedding. The math works."
"That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard."
"But you're smiling."
She was. And kept smiling through dinner, dancing, the quiet conversation in the garden.
"Why the hundredth story?" Zara asked.
"Because round numbers feel significant." His hand found hers. "And because I've been watching you all night, wanting an excuse to talk."
"You could have just said hello."
"Where's the narrative arc in that?"
Their story unfolded like all the others—and unlike any of them.
First dates. Family introductions. The moment when "maybe" became "definitely."
"I love you," Amir said one night.
"I love you too." She kissed him. "Is this our happily ever after?"
"This is our beginning." He pulled her close. "The ending is for later. Much later."
They made love like they were creating something new—because they were.
"Meri jaan," Amir breathed. "The hundredth story is just the start."
"Of what?"
"Of us. Of forever." He moved deeper. "Of everything worth writing."
Their wedding was the celebration of the year—a century of love stories culminating in theirs.
But really, it was just another beginning.
The best stories always are.