Her breathing was ragged.
She looked at Phantom.
“Y... you?” Her voice barely came out.
“You saved my life?”
Phantom stayed silent.
For a few moments, only the sound of Asma’s rapid breathing filled the room. Then he slowly walked toward her. Asma’s heartbeat quickened.
Phantom stopped close to her.
And in a low but heavy voice, he said:
“I told you, didn’t I...” His gaze drifted far away for a moment, as if he had slipped into another time, another memory. Then he whispered.
“Once... I couldn’t save an innocent.”
Asma kept watching him in silence. Phantom’s voice grew heavier.
“I won’t make that mistake again.” Asma couldn’t understand.
“What are you talking about?”
But Phantom gave no answer.
He turned, walked a few steps, and stopped in front of the same broken window. For a moment he looked out into the darkness of the night. Then, without a word, he jumped down.
Asma ran to the window. But below there was only darkness. Phantom had vanished.
And only one question echoed in her mind:
“Which innocent was it... the one Phantom couldn’t save?”
Asma couldn’t sleep the whole night.
After everything that had happened, she sat motionless for a long time, as if she couldn’t believe she had just returned from the edge of death.
And that masked, mysterious man, why had he come to save her?
After the threatening messages, were they now trying new ways to spread fear? She came back to her senses only when Wafa’s call came.
“Asma... please, pull yourself together.”
Asma kept crying.
When you know there’s a shoulder waiting to hold you if you fall apart, then you should fall apart.
After a few moments of silence, Wafa spoke again.
“And if it’s too hard to pull yourself together right now, that’s okay. I can wait until you’re ready to speak.”
Her voice held the kind of closeness that doesn’t ask questions, only stays beside you.
Muffled sobs kept coming through the phone’s speaker.
If those people can truly go to any lengths to protect their secrets... then I can’t throw my friend into this fire. Slowly, silence settled on the other end.
In the end, Asma decided she wouldn’t tell Wafa anything.
“There was a wedding in the neighborhood. People were firing guns. You know how scared I get of gunshots, don’t you? That’s why I got sick... and anyway, there’s a lot of work pressure these days.” Wafa didn’t ask anything more.
If it was true, fine, and if not, Asma would tell her everything herself someday. It had always been this way between the two of them. Wafa kept comforting her for a while, and then the call ended. If all this had been an attempt to scare her, they had succeeded.
But along with the fear, something else had been born.
Curiosity. And now Asma wanted to know more than ever what was really going on behind the curtain.
“I won’t stop until I know the truth.”
☆ ☆ ☆
“If you miss them so much, why don’t you just go and meet them?”
He was sitting beside the pond at Zeb Mahal with Safeer. A birthday cake sat in front of them, which Safeer had surely brought, since Shahzeb now considered such things childish. Only one slice had been cut, and it was on Safeer’s plate. It was always like this. He never ate his own birthday cake.
Because the people he used to celebrate his birthdays with now believed he was dead.
“Safeer, yaar (man), how can I go in front of them? They think I’m dead. How can I reopen their wounds?”
“But yaar, you’re in so much pain. Why don’t you reduce your own punishment? Instead of living in guilt, go tell them everything, and they’ll understand you.”
“Bhai (brother), even if he’s a killer, to his family he’s still just a brother.”
Shahzeb’s heart felt like it was about to burst. Without looking at Shahzeb’s face, Safeer was busy lecturing him in his own world.
“Safeer, please, can we talk about something else?”
“If you’re not going to meet them anyway, then why mourn on every birthday?”
“Okay, my mother, I promise I’ll go see them before my next birthday.” He knew Safeer wouldn’t stop talking now, so he gave him that reassurance just to quiet him.
In the eyes of the world, they were only business partners.
But the truth was, each of them knew secrets of the other that no one else on earth knew.
☆ ☆ ☆
Wafa was reading a book.
A cup of tea in her hand.
She preferred solitude to crowds.
She was completely absorbed in her book.
Just then a notification came on her phone and the screen lit up.
Out of habit she picked it up, unlocked it, and glanced at the notification. But the next moment she couldn’t believe her eyes.
In her account, S.K. Khan had transferred the full amount as per the contract.
And along with it, a rather large bonus.
Even though the project wasn’t finished yet.
Wafa furrowed her brows. This had to be a mistake.
For the first time, she decided to call S.K. Khan.
“Hello, sir...” she said softly as soon as the call connected.
But there was only silence on the other end.
“Assalamu alaikum (peace be upon you), sir...” she tried again.
Still no answer.
On the other side, the young man sat silent. As if his breath had stopped. As if he feared that if he spoke, this voice coming through the phone might vanish into the darkness.
“Can you hear me?” Wafa’s voice came again.
“Y... yes.” After a few moments, the answer came.
“Tell me, why did you call?”
As he spoke, Wafa felt as though there was some unfamiliar undercurrent in that voice. Some feeling she couldn’t make out. But she brushed the thought aside.
“Sir, the project isn’t even finished yet. I think you’ve made a mistake in sending the payment.”
She said it hesitantly.
“Miss Wafa, I haven’t made any mistake.” His voice was calm.
“I liked your outline, design, and construction plan. That’s why I transferred the agreed amount to your account.”
Wafa was silent for a few moments.
Then she asked lightly.
“But what if I’d taken your money and disappeared?”
At this, a faint smile rose on the other end.
“I know you wouldn’t do that.” He said it with complete confidence.
“You’re a trustworthy person.”
There was a strange certainty in his voice. The kind of certainty you only hear from someone who knows you. Wafa felt a pull of closeness in his manner without meaning to.
After a few moments of silence, Wafa said quietly.
“Sir... how can you trust me this much?” For a few moments, silence hung on the other end. As if the person was searching for an answer.
Then he said softly.
“You don’t always need a reason to trust some people.” Wafa couldn’t understand what that answer meant.
But for some reason, that one sentence stirred something strange in her heart. She thanked him briefly and ended the call. But this time her mind was loud with questions.
She didn’t even know this man.
So how could he make such a big claim about her?
How could he say with such certainty that she wouldn’t betray him? Thinking this, an unfamiliar fear began to seep into Wafa’s heart.
And for the first time she felt that perhaps he knew more about her than he should.
☆ ☆ ☆
Asma thought: whoever the mastermind of this whole game was, they knew her well. If they could threaten to kill her so openly, then from now on she would have to tread very carefully. She picked up her black-covered diary.
The triangular pills found in the study.
Abu’s suspicious behavior.
Safeer’s mysterious conversation with that unknown person.
The list of names and amounts in the old file.
She stared at the words written in the diary. The room was silent, but her mind was roaring with thoughts.
Abu and Safeer are the ones involved in that notorious drug network.
And the man who came to kill me last night was surely Safeer’s man.
And the one who saved me...
She paused for a few moments.
It must have been Abu.
Who else could have reached me in time?
But the next moment, another thought rose in her mind. What if I’m wrong?
If it wasn’t Abu who saved me, then who was it?
She shook her head helplessly.
For every question that got an answer, many more new ones were born. She kept forming hypotheses.
And to some extent her guesses weren’t wrong, because nearly all the evidence so far pointed in that direction. She decided to talk to Safeer first and then to Abu. After all, if she went straight to Abu without hearing Safeer’s side, and her suspicion proved wrong, then what?
She had no answer.
Besides, questioning your own blood relatives is never easy.
Sometimes it’s easier to demand the truth from strangers, but asking your own people for answers breaks a person’s courage.
Asma closed the diary and took a deep breath.
Now she had to take her next step with great care.
Because she could feel that the truth she was nearing could change her life.
☆ ☆ ☆
The Underground Building
The three of them were in that same underground building, while the screen showed an airport scene. A strange silence hung over the underground building. Only the faint hum of computers and the glow of screens kept the place alive.
A few moments later, a man of about thirty-three appeared walking through the airport lobby. He was slowly coming in line with the camera.
“Step aside and don’t expose yourself.”
Shadow quietly whispered into the Bluetooth earpiece to someone.
On the other end, Goldie, who had a hidden camera fitted into a button of his shirt, slowly joined the crowd of reporters.
One reporter asked loudly,
“Sir, how was your international tour?” The man answered briefly,
“Very good.”
Dozens of microphones thrust toward him at once. Each reporter was trying to ask first.
Meanwhile, another reporter fired off a question right away,
“Sir, will the programs you announced be completed on schedule?”
He was just about to move on when another voice rose from behind, “Aswad Sir, have you decided to make government schools digital in order to improve their education system?” Hearing this question, the man stopped for the first time.
On the other side, the man in the red and white mask in front of the screen also sat bolt upright, as if he’d been waiting for the answer to exactly this question.
The man answered in a calm tone,
“For decades, the class divide in our country has kept growing. The education system in government schools doesn’t match modern needs, and some schools are even involved in illegal activities.”
The moment he said this, the noise there turned suddenly to silence.
There was a strange power in his words.
He was a sorcerer.
Whenever he spoke, he cast a spell.
“As a result, when the young generation coming out of these schools can’t find a place in the market, they choose the wrong paths. Our aim is to give young people quality education, make them useful members of society, and keep them from the wrong paths.”
On the other side of the screen, the man in the red and white mask kept clapping, but there was neither joy nor excitement in that applause. Then he set his hand on the arm of the chair. His fingers dug into it so hard that the armrests creaked.
Only hatred.
Intense hatred.
Mockery was plain in his eyes. “When the man who destroyed a family tries to save society, of course it makes you angry.”
He smiled faintly and said in a low voice,
“His magic worked again today.”
“Hypocrite...” Shadow whispered.
The masked man’s eyes were still fixed on the screen, but in his mind a scene from years ago had come back to life.
On the other side, all the reporters were visibly impressed by his speech.
☆ ☆ ☆
The next day Asma reached the hotel late, unlike her usual self. The hotel was immersed in its daily bustle. The mouth-watering aromas of various dishes hung in the air. The sharp smell of cleaning chemicals, the faint scent of guests’ perfume, and the steam of fresh coffee rising from the coffee machine had all become part of the atmosphere.
Everything was normal.
Only Asma wasn’t.
Instead of heading to her cabin, she turned the other way. Her steps were quick. A few moments later she flung open Safeer’s door with a bang and walked in without permission. Safeer looked up at her.
“Miss Asma, a door is for knocking, not for barging into someone’s privacy like this.”
But before he could even finish, Asma spoke.
“Privacy?” There was open mockery in her tone.
“You’re talking about privacy?” She came quickly up to the desk. “You break into my house, send me threatening messages...”
“And then, playing your good cop, bad cop game, you send someone to kill me and then come yourself to save my life.”
She had both hands on the desk and kept glaring at him. In the corner, the black-eyed young man was ostensibly scrolling on his phone, but all his attention was on Asma’s words. Asma had a lot of patience. She didn’t lose her temper easily. But once the water rose above her head, she had no mercy left for whoever stood in front of her.
“If this whole drama was to force me to quit my job...” She pulled an envelope from her bag.
“...then here’s my resignation.”
She flung the sealed resignation at him.
Throughout, no expression crossed Safeer’s face. He sat as though listening to the headlines of a news bulletin.
No surprise.
No anger.
No worry.
This very silence enraged Asma further. “And don’t ever try to interfere in my life again.”
Now there was more exhaustion in her voice than anger. The kind of exhaustion born of constant fear, suspicion, and uncertainty. With that she turned and headed for the door.
But she knew...
that she had just invited the real storm of her life.
Asma didn’t reach home that night.
She was just about to leave the hotel when someone suddenly pressed a cloth over her mouth. She tried to resist in shock, but within moments her senses began to fade. Her vision blurred.
☆ ☆ ☆
Wafa’s Apartment
Morning sunlight was filtering through the curtains into the room. Wafa kept glancing at her phone while making tea.
No message from Asma.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Maybe she’s still upset. She opened WhatsApp and sent a simple message.
“Good morning. How are you feeling now?” Just one grey tick.
She furrowed her brow. “That’s strange...” She dialed her number.
“The number you are trying to reach is currently switched off.” She tried again.
Then again.
The same answer. A strange fear began to settle in her heart.
Asma never switched her phone off.
Never.
Steadying herself, she dialed the hotel’s number.
The receptionist replied politely.
“Good morning, Joy Hotel. How may I help you?”
“Hello... I’d like to speak to Miss Asma. Could you connect me to her office?” There was a moment of silence.
“I’m sorry, ma’am... Miss Asma resigned yesterday.”
The phone almost slipped from Wafa’s hand. “She... what?”
“She submitted her resignation yesterday and left the hotel.” The call cut off.
For a few seconds Wafa just stared at the phone.
Asma had resigned. And hadn’t even told her?
That wasn’t Asma’s way. Not at all.
Fear slowly began to creep into her heart.
Something was wrong.
☆ ☆ ☆
Safeer’s Office
Safeer stood silently by the big window. Asma’s resignation still lay on his desk. As if he hadn’t even touched it. His phone vibrated. A message appeared on the screen.
“Parcel delivered.”
He stared at those words for a few moments. Then deleted the message. Not a line moved on his face.
☆ ☆ ☆
Unknown Place
Darkness.
A dull pain was spreading through Asma’s head.
She slowly opened her eyes. Everything was blurry. Her wrists were tied. It was bitterly cold. Somewhere in the dark, water was dripping.
Drip..
Drip..
Drip.
She tried to get free of the ropes. “I-is anyone there?” she whispered. No answer came.
Then... the sound of footsteps, very slow, steadily coming closer.
A shadow stopped in front of her. She couldn’t see the face. Only black shoes were visible.
A deep voice broke the silence.
“So you’re awake.”
And then... the same silence.
☆ ☆ ☆
Three days had passed since Asma went missing.
A report had been filed with the police.
In just three days, years of exhaustion had settled on Zaheer Sahib’s face. Zareena Begum was worn out from weeping. She spent most of the day sitting silently in one spot. It seemed as if she had forgotten how to speak.
Her eyes were fixed constantly on Asma’s photograph.
She didn’t want to lose another member of this household again.
“Ya Allah... keep my Asma in Your protection and safety.”
Most of her day passed on the prayer mat.
Wafa was also in terrible distress. Asma wasn’t picking up her calls.
At first she thought maybe Asma was busy, but as time passed her unease only grew. Finally she went to the police station herself.
Since Asma had been working as a manager at the hotel, Wafa was giving the police various pieces of information. According to Asma’s last known location, her phone had last been switched on at Joy Hotel. On that basis, the police arrived at the hotel with a warrant.
Contrary to expectation, no one tried to obstruct the investigation. Safeer and Shahzeb also looked worried about how one of their employees could just vanish like this.
Wafa and Zaheer Sahib were also there with the police.
Every part of the hotel was searched thoroughly. Each room was checked. But no clue turned up anywhere. Then came the storeroom, where the old furniture from before the hotel’s renovation was kept.
Only staff were allowed there.
And no camera was installed in that section.
The door of that room was locked from the inside.
The police knocked first, then tried to get it opened.
But there was no response from inside.
Finally, they shoved it with full force. After several attempts the door gave way. And when everyone’s eyes fell on the inside of the room, the ground slipped from beneath Wafa and Zaheer Sahib.
The color drained abruptly from Zaheer Sahib’s face.
Unbelievable shock rose in his eyes.
Then it was as though the life went out of his body.
He collapsed to the ground at his full height.
In the middle of the room, from a rope hanging from the ceiling fan, Asma’s lifeless body swung.
Her right fist was clenched tight.
At first glance it looked as if Asma had taken her own life.
Wafa’s heart rose to her throat. Disbelief was etched on her face.
Asma... and suicide?
Impossible. How could she die like this?
It was as if hammers were pounding on her mind.
Wafa still couldn’t accept the shock.
Zaheer Sahib had been rushed to the hospital.
“Sir, this moon bracelet and this letter were found near the body.” The sub-inspector was reporting the details of the case.
The nameplate on the inspector’s desk read:
“Nafees Ammar.” The same inspector who had recently been posted here.
“Read the letter.” The inspector gave a curt order.
The sub-inspector opened the paper and began to read.
There were a few moments of silence.
Then the inspector set the paper on the desk and said:
“This looks less like a last letter and more like philosophy.”
“Seems the deceased was quite interested in literature.” This was his initial analysis.
“And sir... the family didn’t even allow a post-mortem.” Asma’s body lay on the veranda of the house.
Quite a few people had gathered there.
“So did she really commit suicide?”
A woman asked in a low voice.
“What else?”
Another answered at once.
“Who knows what’s in people’s hearts.”
A third woman joined the conversation. I heard Asma wasn’t their own daughter.
“Who knows what that girl must have gone through.”
They were busy whispering among themselves.
Wafa couldn’t bear to hear any more.
☆ ☆ ☆
Doomsday had fallen on the residents of Jahangir House.
But for many people it was just a new story to discuss.
Who knows why people prefer discussing others’ wounds instead of looking at their own flaws.
Zareena Begum was beside herself with weeping.
She would get up, walk a few steps, and faint again.
“Look... maybe she doesn’t even feel that much grief.”
“She’s only shedding tears in front of people.” Another whisper rose from some corner.
Every corner of the house had become a hub of rumors and speculation. And Asma’s brother. He too was in a terrible state from crying. In front of the police, the motive for suicide seemed clear: work pressure.
During the investigation it also came out that Asma wasn’t her parents’ biological child, so it was possible she had fallen into depression, a victim of family troubles.
This was the police’s initial assessment.
Since no post-mortem was done, no further truth could come to light. But some truths aren’t locked away in files. They choose someone to reveal themselves to when the time comes.
So, like many other cases, this suicide case was also shut away in files as a cold case. The police handed all her belongings over to the family.
Dream
Zareena Begum was sitting on the bed in Asma’s room.
The air in the room held such sorrow it seemed as if everything was holding its breath. And the walls seemed to have longed for a voice for ages.
Zareena Begum closed her eyes.
She saw Asma’s smiling face.
“Asma, why did you leave us?” At that moment signs of pain appeared on Asma’s face.
“Asma, why did you make such a big decision?” Asma still said nothing. Only tears began to fall from her eyes.
It seemed as though Asma wanted to tell her something. Something locked up inside her heart.
Zareena Begum was crying too, but she tried to wipe Asma’s tears. Her hand stayed empty in the air.
She writhed in anguish. At that moment Asma’s breath began to catch, her face started turning red.
As if she was suffocating.
“Asma... Asma!” She began calling out.
And then her eyes opened.
“She was in so much pain and I, despite being her mother, didn’t know...” Tears broke from her lashes and soaked her aging face. The most painful form of meeting is seeing the dead in dreams.
Now they would only be able to see Asma in photographs, in thoughts, and in dreams.
☆ ☆ ☆
“World’s Best Abu”
The night was well advanced.
The commotion that had filled Jahangir House was slowly turning into silence. Zaheer Sahib entered Asma’s room with slow steps.
The room was just as it had been.
The book on the desk.
The flowerpot by the window.
The blanket folded on the bed.
And the photographs on the wall, in which Asma smiled every time. Zaheer Sahib stood near the door for a few moments. As if he didn’t have the courage to go any further. He walked slowly to the desk.
His eyes fell on an old box lying there. He opened it listlessly.
Inside were a few childhood photographs, colorful ribbons, and some old cards. He kept taking things out one by one. Then suddenly his hand stopped. A small card was in his fingers.
The paper had yellowed with time.
On the front, in crooked letters, was written:
“World’s Best Abu”
Below it, a little smiling face was drawn in colored pencil.
And beside it was written:
“Asma”
The room was completely silent.
Zaheer Sahib kept looking at the card for a long time.
His lips trembled. But no voice came.
His eyes filled with moisture. He touched the card with a shaking hand. As if trying to feel a memory from years ago.
“Do you remember...”
His voice was softer than a whisper.
“You made this card in second grade.” He smiled faintly.
But that smile broke the next moment.
“You said that even when you grew up, you’d still be my daughter.”
His vision blurred.
“Then why did you leave so soon, beta?” This time his voice abandoned him too.
Silence spread through the room again. He sat down slowly on the bed. The card was still in his hand.
And perhaps for the first time, he realized that some relationships don’t end after death.
They just become incomplete.
☆ ☆ ☆
Wafa was sitting in her room.
On her phone screen in front of her, Asma’s chat was open.
She would never get a reply on this chat now. Her eyes were swollen. Her nose was red. She looked as if she had been crying continuously for hours.
“Everyone I get close to goes away from me?” She was blaming herself.
At that moment an old evening came back to her. The evening when they were celebrating Asma getting her first job.
“Asma, I’m always telling you about my dreams.”
“Asma, what’s your dream?”
“My dream?” Asma paused for a few moments.
So long that Wafa thought she had forgotten to answer.
Then she smiled lightly.
“You need courage to dream.”
“I just want to live.”
As she said this, there was a strange peace on her face. A smile that very few people are blessed with. Suddenly the scene of Asma’s hanging body rose before Wafa’s eyes.
She opened her eyes at once.
Her breathing turned ragged.
“How can someone whose only dream was to stay alive commit suicide?” The question kept echoing in her mind. She didn’t know what had happened to Asma.
But one thing she knew for sure. Asma wanted to live. She wanted to live with all her heart. A pain rose in her chest as if someone had set it on fire.
And she realized that scene...
that last scene...
might haunt her for the rest of her life.
☆ ☆ ☆
Wafa had been sitting in front of her laptop for several minutes.
The project was open on the screen, but the cursor had been blinking in the same spot for a long time. She couldn’t focus on work no matter how hard she tried.
Asma’s smile, her last call, and then her lifeless face...
Each memory kept coming alive in her mind again and again.
At that moment her phone rang.
A name appeared on the screen.
S.K. Khan
Wafa looked at the phone for a few moments, then took a deep breath and answered.
“Assalamu alaikum, sir.”
“Wa alaikum assalam (and peace be upon you), Miss Wafa.” His voice was calm as always.
“I hope I haven’t called at a bad time.”
“No... not at all, sir.”
After a few moments of silence he said,
“I just wanted to ask about the project. There hasn’t been any update from you for several days.” Wafa lowered her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, sir.” Her voice choked.
“In the past few days... a very close friend of mine passed away.”
“I am trying, but I haven’t been able to pull myself together yet.” Silence fell on the other end.
Shahzeb gripped the phone tightly. He had only wanted to ask why the project was delayed.
But after hearing this answer, he forgot about the deadline altogether.
He asked softly,
“Was she... very close to you?” Wafa’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Less a friend... more family.” Hearing this, Shahzeb closed his eyes. He knew very well what it was to lose someone of your own.
After a few moments he said, very gently,
“The project can wait, Miss Wafa.”
“Take care of yourself first.” Wafa replied at once. “No, sir, I’ll finish it in two or three days.”
Shahzeb let out a soft breath.
“Work has a deadline...” He paused for a few moments.
“...grief doesn’t.”
Wafa fell silent.
For some reason, just as the first time, she felt a strange closeness in this stranger’s tone.
“Whenever you feel better, start the work again.”
“I’m in no hurry.”
Wafa said softly, “Thank you, sir.”
After the call ended, she kept looking at her phone for a while. She couldn’t understand how a man she had never even met could understand her sorrow so easily.
On the other end, he sat silent for a long time with the phone in his hand. A faint smile touched his lips.
“Take care of yourself...”
These were the words he wanted to say.
But as always, he let them stay in his heart.
Wafa stepped into Asma’s house and felt the weight of the atmosphere on herself. It seemed as if everything in this house was silently recognizing her. The trees standing in the lawn, hidden in their leaves, and that old shade tree, all seemed sunk in some grief.
There wasn’t just silence in the air... there was sorrow, memories, and reflections of scattered moments. It felt as though laughter hadn’t entered this house in ages. As though even the trees were now waiting for the return of the birds that once perched on their branches.
Wafa entered the lounge with heavy steps.
Zareena Begum sat before her. In just a few days the wrinkles on her face had deepened, as if time had stolen every moment from her. Parents whose young child leaves the world only breathe... they don’t live.
Zareena Begum raised her head.
“Beta... I was waiting for you.” Wafa greeted her and sat quietly. What could she tell her?
Even coming into this house, she was breaking from the agony of not feeling Asma there. Though she had gotten ready, she had washed her face twice, just because the tears wouldn’t stop. Screams were locked inside her silence, unable to come out.
☆ ☆ ☆
“Aunty... I want to go to Asma’s room.”
Zareena Begum said softly,
“Go, beta... go see it.”
Wafa climbed the stairs slowly to Asma’s room. The moment she opened the door, her steps froze.
The room was exactly as Asma had left it. Everything in its place, as if she would open the door any moment and start arranging her things as usual. But the silence of this room wasn’t ordinary silence.
Wafa felt as if every object there was whispering to her. As if the walls, books, curtains, and pictures knew some secret they wanted to tell her... but lifeless things have no tongue. Her heart filled with a strange weight.
She walked slowly to Asma’s desk. She ran her hand over the photo frames, touched the books, pressed them against the pillow, and closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to feel Asma’s presence lingering in those things.
She took a deep breath and went to stand in front of the dressing table. For some reason her heart told her to open every drawer.
The first drawer... everything was arranged neatly.
The second drawer... equally organized.
In the corner of the third drawer lay a crumpled piece of paper.
Wafa started and picked it up and unfolded it carefully.
The yellowed paper was completely blank.
But on its corner were one white dot and one red dot. She turned it over in surprise, but not a single word was written on it.
“How strange...” she said softly to herself.
Asma had a habit of keeping everything in its place. She folded even the smallest bill before putting it away. So why had she hidden a blank, crumpled paper in the corner of a drawer? Was it just a useless scrap... or did it hold some secret not visible at first glance?
Wafa thought for a few moments, then folded the paper carefully and put it in her bag.
Before leaving the room she glanced around one last time.
“If you truly wanted to say something, Asma... I will find that secret.” She came down to the lounge.
“Aunty... if you allow it, I’d like to see the things that were found near Asma’s body too.”
Zareena Begum looked at her questioningly.
“Why, beta?”
“I don’t know why... but my heart says maybe there’s something everyone overlooked. I just want to look once.”
Zareena Begum was silent for a few moments. Then, without a word, she went inside and brought out a small box.
“All of this was with her...” Wafa took the box into her hands in silence.
She didn’t yet know that one ordinary item in this box would lead her to the door of the secret that had taken Asma’s life.
Night had taken over the city. On the quiet roads, a car could be seen moving.
Its speed was normal, as though a storm, after flattening someone’s life, was returning quietly to its own nature. A black car moved silently down the empty roads.
No hurry...
No fear, as if the person inside knew that even darkness couldn’t stop his path.
After a while the car stopped in front of a towering building.
A man stepped out.
Dressed completely in black, his face covered by a half-white, half-red mask. Phantom. He entered the underground building without a sound. The people inside were already waiting for him.
A strange silence hung in the room.
As if everyone knew that tonight some secret was about to be buried, or some secret was about to come out.
The door opened.
Phantom came in.
He picked up the file on the table. For a few moments he stayed silent. Then he said:
“I want everything about Asma.”
The people in the room looked at each other.
The golden mask said with a faint smile:
“Even after all this time, you still don’t believe it?” Phantom raised his eyes.
“Believe?”
His voice was cold.
“Belief is for those who have the whole truth.” Shadow said softly:
“Sometimes the truth isn’t what it appears to be.”
Phantom looked at him.
“And sometimes what appears... is the truth.” Silence fell over the room.
The golden mask placed a photograph on the table.
“If this comes out, people have already decided who’s guilty.” Phantom looked at the photograph. But no expression appeared on his face.
“People’s verdicts have never stopped me.
So why does it matter to you?” For a moment silence fell. Phantom closed the file.
“Because some secrets aren’t meant to stay buried.”
He turned.
At the door, he stopped.
“But remember...”
he said without looking back.
“If what happened to Asma happens again, this time no one will be spared.” He left.
The people in the room stayed silent, because no one knew whether Phantom was searching for the truth, or erasing some trace of his own crime.
☆ ☆ ☆
Wafa was sitting beside the bed. In her hand was the black diary. The same diary that had once belonged to Asma.
She had been looking at it for a long time, as though every page was holding her back.
At last she opened the diary. The first pages were normal. Daily notes, a few lines of poetry, and emotional writing. Everything was ordinary.
But then came a page where the handwriting changed.
The sentences were short... and separate.
“Triangular pills”
“Abu going out at night”
“List of people”
“Reading Room” Wafa furrowed her brows.
These didn’t look like notes from an ordinary diary.
They were part of some sequence. She read the first line again.
“Triangular pills...” She said softly to herself.
“Is it medicine... or something else?” If it were medicine, its full name would have been written clearly somewhere. But here only one phrase was written. As if it were part of some code.
Her eyes moved to the next line.
“Abu going out at night...” Wafa was silent for a few moments. This didn’t seem like an ordinary matter. She read on.
“List of people...” A slight tremor came into her hand. Had Asma been keeping watch on someone?
At the end was written:
“Reading Room” Wafa suddenly remembered... there was a study in Asma’s house, maybe she had written about that. But what had been going on there? She closed the page and stayed silent for a few moments.
Then she realized something.
These four lines weren’t separate. They were different parts of one and the same thing... as if an event had been written down in pieces. And the most dangerous part was this. Asma had written all of this before she died.
☆ ☆ ☆
She decided to speak plainly with Asma’s father. After all, in this diary, was his name written like a secret?
“Uncle, can I meet you?” Wafa asked on the phone.
After he agreed, she gave him the address of a park near her home. She reached it about half an hour before the appointed time and waited for him.
Everything in the park was as usual. Children were playing, a few elders were walking, and the wind brushing the leaves of the trees made a familiar sound. But a storm raged in Wafa’s mind.
“What if Asma’s father was somehow involved in her death?” The moment the thought came, she scolded herself.
“How can I suspect Asma’s father and question him about his own daughter’s death?” She sat trapped in this conflict, but of one fact she was completely certain.
Asma had not committed suicide. But then what secret had she discovered that became the cause of her death? Who had killed her... and why?
To get answers to these questions, talking to Asma’s father was unavoidable.
“Beta, I hope you didn’t have to wait long?”
Wafa looked up with a start. “No, no, Uncle... I just got here myself.”
She lied with practiced skill.
Most of the hair at his temples had turned white, and such deep grief was etched on his face that it seemed life had taken everything from him.
Wafa first made some small talk to lighten the mood. Then she took a deep breath and prepared herself to ask the questions she had come for.
...
Wafa opened the diary to that page and set it in front of Zaheer Sahib.
Only a few words were written on it.
Triangular pills
Abu’s black bag
Going out at midnight
List
Reading Room
Zaheer Sahib’s eyes froze on these words.
For a moment the color of his face changed.
“So... Asma was investigating me?” The moment the thought came, that golden evening came back fresh to his mind.
He had been sitting in the lawn drinking tea when Asma had suddenly asked,
“Abu... where do you sneak off to in the middle of the night?” He had dismissed the question as a child’s idle curiosity and snapped at her.
Today that very moment had returned to weigh on his chest.
If only... he had explained himself instead of getting angry that day.
Maybe Asma wouldn’t have suspected him.
Maybe she would be alive today.
Human nature is strange. When we make a mistake we don’t realize it, but regret always comes late.
Wafa broke the silence.
“Uncle... can you explain these words?”
Zaheer Sahib took a deep breath.
He had decided that this time he wouldn’t hide anything.
“I don’t know much about the triangular pills. But I think they were drugs that someone planted in the Reading Room to make people suspect me.” Wafa was startled.
“Someone?”
“Yes.”
“Then?” He nodded slowly.
“My important papers were always kept in the Reading Room, so there was a CCTV camera installed there. Later when I looked at the footage, it turned out one of the household servants had done it. The very next day that servant disappeared. To this day, there’s been no trace of him.”
Wafa was silent for a few moments.
Then she asked the next question.
“And this... Abu’s black bag?”
Zaheer Sahib lowered his eyes.
“That night a friend of mine had an accident. When the call came from the hospital, I had to go at once.”
He paused for a few moments.
“There was cash in that bag... because there might have been an urgent need at the hospital.” Wafa nodded.
Just then a folded paper slipped from the diary and fell to the floor. Wafa picked it up.
“And this list?”
Zaheer Sahib glanced at it and recognized it at once.
“This is a list of the young people whose startups I was going to invest in. At the time their companies’ names weren’t registered, so I had only written down their names.” He paused, then said slowly,
“I can guess what’s going through your mind, Wafa.”
“But there was no crime behind any of this.”
His voice broke.
“There was only my silence.” If Zaheer Sahib was telling the truth, then what secret had Asma stumbled upon?
Zaheer Sahib sat composed on the outside, but he had broken inside.
Yet he kept himself together.
He kept blaming himself for the same thing. If only I had told Asma the truth that day... maybe she would be alive today.
☆ ☆ ☆
Wafa was sitting once again in Asma’s room.
In front of her was the old phone that had been recovered during the investigation. She took a deep breath and opened the first folder.
A video began to play.
The room was clear... Asma was standing near her desk. She was talking to someone. There was no fear in her manner, but anger. As if she had come very close to some truth.
“Why don’t you people understand... I know everything.” She took a step forward.
At that moment the bracelet on her wrist struck the edge of the desk.
Snap.
The bracelet broke.
A few pieces fell to the floor.
Asma didn’t look at them.
Her eyes were fixed on someone in front of her. The camera angle shifted slightly.
The person in front wasn’t fully visible.
Only the lower part of him showed. The edge of black clothing, and a glimpse of a watch on his hand.
Wafa leaned close to the screen.
“Who... is this?”
At that moment a slight glitch came over the video. The audio began to cut out.
The image blurred.
