“Assalam-o-Alaikum, Mamoo!” In the evening, when Mutahir and Shahzain arrived at Farooq Mamoo’s place, he was sitting in the lawn having evening tea. (In the morning, when they had gone to Shoaib’s place, Farooq Mamoo along with his family had already visited his sister; that was the reason the two of them had come alone this time.)

“Alaikum-assalam! How are you, young men?”

“Absolutely fine.” Mutahir took a chair opposite him, while Zain went inside.

“Where do you stay busy these days? You are hardly seen around.” Mamoo looked at his nephew affectionately.

“You already know, Mamoo! Work commitments have increased. Sunday is the only day left to go anywhere.” Mamoo nodded in agreement.

“Did you speak with Anjee? How is she?”

“I spoke to her yesterday. Why, haven’t you spoken to her?” Farooq Mamoo looked at him in surprise.

“I haven’t spoken to her for three or four days.”

“I have to leave for some work, son—you go inside and meet everyone.” As Mamoo stood up, Mutahir nodded and walked inside through the main door. Shahzain, Hafsa, Saman, and Mahrukh were sitting there.

“Assalam-o-Alaikum!” Greeting everyone collectively, he sat right next to Hoor.

“Alaikum-assalam, Janab-e-Aali!” Hafsa replied loudly. Meanwhile, he was quite surprised seeing Hafsa— “What kind of appearance have you made for yourself?” Hafsa had an apron tied around her, her hair wrapped in a messy bun, and her face and forehead were smeared with either flour or gram flour.

“I am making dinner today.”

“May Allah have mercy!” As Mutahir shuddered, Mami laughed, while Hafsa glared at him. Just then, Zain came over carrying tea.

“First go and see the state of the kitchen!”

“I admire your courage, man!” Mutahir raised his hands in surrender.

“How are you?” Suddenly, while talking to Zain, Mutahir addressed Mahrukh, who was staring down at the table surface with her head lowered. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked up.

“Yes…”

“What do you mean ‘Yes’?” Annoyance reflected in Mutahir’s tone. Hafsa looked at Mutahir in surprise, while Mahrukh grew even more nervous, her hands visibly trembling.

“I am fine,” came out of her mouth with great difficulty in a choked voice. Mami gestured for Hoor to serve the tea, then glared at Hafsa.

“Go, clean the kitchen first and then fix your appearance, you clumsy girl.”

“Yes, Ammi!” She turned obediently.

“Is there any problem, or if you need anything, just let us know.” Taking the cup from Hoor’s hand, he once again addressed the girl who was immersed in a sea of thoughts.

“No, I don't need anything. Mami and I went shopping for her yesterday,” Hoor informed Mutahir. Zain sat comfortably sipping his tea, listening to their conversation, then put his cup down and looked at Mahrukh.

“Why are you so scared? Everyone here is very nice. No one is so bloodthirsty that you are trembling like this.”

“May I leave, Aunty?” Ignoring Zain’s words, she looked toward the ground on the verge of tears.

Mutahir looked at Zain with irritation, then leaned forward, resting both hands on the table. Mami, Hoor, and Hafsa—who was coming out of the kitchen—were startled by his aggressive posture.

“What are you trying to prove?” He slammed his left hand hard on the table, and with tearful eyes, she cowered back against the chair. “Are we wild savages, bloodthirsty beasts who will devour you?” His face was turning red, his eyes fixed on her delicate, trembling form.

“Look at me and answer me!” If he had his way, he would have flared up severely at this girl.

“Mutahir, please! Man, why are you getting hyper?” Standing up, Zain placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Mutahir, what happened, son?” Mami looked at his face in distress. He had never shown such extreme reaction in his life, and now such anger toward an unfamiliar girl—her surprise was justified. Taking a deep breath, Mutahir sat back down and raised his eyes.

“I am sorry—” Looking at Mami, he apologized. The reason for his intense anger was beyond his own understanding.

“Relax, brother.” This time he addressed Hafsa, Hoor, and Zain. With a slight smile on his lips, they felt somewhat relieved.

“You really scared us!” Mami gave him a gentle pat on the head.

“I am preparing dinner, you guys must eat before leaving. And Mahrukh! You go to your room, child.” The moment she said it, Mahrukh abruptly stood up and ran outside.

“Mami! May I meet Mahrukh?” On his way out, Mutahir sought permission from Mami, and she smiled.

“Go ahead, son, meet her—but one thing—” Mutahir turned toward her. “If we support someone in their difficult times, we do not hurt their self-respect. You spoke to that child very harshly today. The poor girl is already deeply troubled due to a family crisis, and top of that, your attitude—you are a very sensible boy.”

“Sorry, Mami! I don’t know why I lost my temper.”

“It’s alright, just be mindful in the future.”

“Yes—” Saying this obediently, Mutahir walked toward Hoor’s room, where Mahrukh was staying. Knocking on the door, he entered to find her sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard with her face buried in her knees. For a moment, he felt like turning back, but shaking his head, he walked toward her. Hearing his footsteps, she raised her head; seeing Mutahir’s handsome yet serious face, her color paled. With swollen eyes and a flushed face, she slowly stepped off the bed.

“What is your problem?”

“N… Nothing.” Lowering her head and cracking her knuckles, she was extremely terrified.

“Mah!” Just then, Zain entered cheerfully. “I knew Mr. Mutahir entered your room in a very pleasant mood, so I had to follow.” Though spoken with a smile and apparent politeness, Mutahir sensed the hidden reproach in his tone.

Looking at them angrily, Mutahir walked out. Taking a deep breath, Zain looked compassionately at the girl who was once again sobbing uncontrollably.

“Just relax! Nothing will happen. You are scared of that poor guy for no reason.” His manner was friendly. “Face the situation bravely. Everything happens for the best, and besides, it’s only a matter of a month or two, then Mutahir will send you back.”

“Are you telling the truth?” She looked at Zain with a skeptical tone. Zain looked affectionately at her dusky face and smiled gently.

“Cross my heart—now don't cry anymore.”

“Alright—” She said, rubbing her face, making Zain laugh.

“No need to show so much obedience either.”

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

“Assalam-o-Alaikum, Madam! How are you? What special occasion made you remember us today?”

As soon as the call was answered, Abdul Ahad’s cheerful tone and playful manner struck her ears, making Angeline smile involuntarily.

“Alaikum-assalam! Alhamdu Lillah, I am fine. How about you?”

“I am fine too! You tell me, how come you remembered me?”

“Abdul Ahad—” Angeline called out with annoyance. “Why are you teasing me?”

“I’m not teasing—” He became serious. “I was just pulling your leg because you didn't even call yourself.”

“Okay, Mutahir will be back tomorrow.”

“That’s good.”

“Be ready, he will meet you first.” Today Angeline’s tone was different, but in his preoccupation, he couldn't notice it.

“Alright. Tell me the place. I will reach there.”

“The place is the same.” As Anjee laughed, Ahad smiled.

“Spare that sacred place! Why are you after the library? Rather, let Mutahir decide the spot—”

“Try to understand, there is a logic behind choosing that spot.”

“And what is that?”

“I thought if you happen to like Mutahir, or if he doesn't like you, or if there’s a disagreement, you two will have to speak softly keeping the library rules in mind. That way, both parties can state their views peacefully and part ways.”

“Are you so sure that neither of us will like the other?” Asking seriously, Abdul Ahad sat up straight. A strange tone emerged in his voice just when Angeline’s phone rang. Seeing the number, she apologized to Abdul Ahad—

“We’ll talk later, Mutahir is calling right now.”

“Okay, take care.”

“Assalam-o-Alaikum!” Answering the call, she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Wa Alaikum-assalam—if you need anything, let me know, I’ll bring it in the morning,” he asked seriously.

“No, I have everything.”

“Okay, I am coming tomorrow morning, so see you then. Good night.”

“Mutahir!” Before he could hang up, he paused as Anjee called out.

“Say it—”

“Why did you call at this time?”

“Just like that, I was free so I thought I’d talk to you—why did you ask that? I call at odd hours anyway.”

“Just like that. Allah Hafiz.”

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

The next morning, he returned from Mirpur at seven o'clock. It was Sunday, so Zain was also at home. Around eleven o'clock, when Angeline came down to Phopho’s portion, both boys were busy with their phones in the TV lounge; Phopho was not around.

“How was everyone there?” Angeline looked at Mutahir, who was sitting on the other end of the sofa and turned his full attention to her after putting his phone away.

“Everyone was fine. You tell me, what’s going on?” Clad in black trousers and a blue t-shirt, he looked quite refreshed today compared to usual days.

“Nothing much, brother—” Wearing a sea-green suit, she looked somewhat relaxed seeing Mutahir.

“It’s been many days since we went to the library. What do you say, shall we go in the evening?” Zain lifted his gaze from his phone and cast a silent glance at both of them.

“I am busy in the evening, Anjee!” He picked up his phone again.

“I don’t care about your useless commitments!” Anjee got angry.

“You are coming with me in the evening and that’s final, I am in no mood for an argument.” Zain barely suppressed a smile at her harsh tone.

“Anjee! Please, I am very busy, some other day.”

“You have changed a lot, Mutahir—”

Tears welled up in Angeline’s eyes. Mutahir looked at her face in surprise—this girl’s tears always made him weak.

“Anjee! What nonsense is this—” Setting the phone down, he turned fully toward her.

“You don’t talk to me with a smile like before—you don’t listen to me—you don’t sit with me—” Enumerating his faults with tear-filled eyes, she looked like a little child at that moment.

“Ugh, what foolish thoughts you have—” Taking her hand, Mutahir shook his head. “Stop crying—look at me—”

“I won’t look, you are very mean—”

When Angeline brushed his hand away in annoyance, Zain laughed. Then, at Mutahir’s glare, he touched his earlobes in apology.

“Sorry Anjee! Please stop crying—”

This time his tone held deep pleading—Angeline raised her eyes—

“Heartfelt sorry—please forgive me—” Making an innocent face, she made him smile.

“Don't panic, crazy girl! I will never change when it comes to you, Insha'Allah. You know earlier it was student life, now professional life has started. Anyway, be ready in the evening, we are going to the library—”

“Really?”

“Absolutely true—”

And in the evening, both were present at that specific spot in the library. Wearing camel-colored shirt sleeves rolled up over jeans, fair and handsome-faced, tall Muhammad Mutahir looked extremely handsome, while Angeline looked quite lovely in a shocking-pink outfit.

“Actually, I want you to meet someone.” Angeline said in a whisper-like tone with slight embarrassment, making Mutahir smile.

“I know—” Angeline looked at him in surprise.

“How do you know?”

Mutahir was not looking at her. The center of his gaze was a person visible through the glass wall. Jeans paired with a white full-sleeve shirt, neatly styled hair, tall with a dusky complexion—he was seeing him for the first time, yet it didn't feel unfamiliar.

“Tell me, Mutahir! How do you know?”

Taking a deep breath, Mutahir straightened up; his back was now toward the door, and he could no longer see that face.

“That’s because you aren't someone who cries over little things, and as far as I know you, you aren't one to cry, but rather one to make others cry—” The tone was playful, making Angeline smile.

“Alright, Mr. James Bond! Now until Abdul Ahad arrives, take his bio-data—”

“Leave it, Anjee! I am not in the mood today—” Sensing the warmth of someone’s gaze on his back, he tried to brush her off.

“Don't talk about mood, dear M.A.! Just take a selfie—” Saying in a casual tone, she dragged her chair closer to him, picked up the phone, and turned on the front camera, but paused when a serious face appeared on the screen from behind—

“Abdul Ahad—”

Just then, he turned around. Angeline stood up abruptly, but Mutahir held her wrist—Angeline looked at him questioningly—

“It was just two steps away; if he wanted to meet me, his steps wouldn't have retreated. Let him go for now—”

“But Mutahir! Why is he leaving?” There was anxiety in her tone.

“What can I say, Anjee!”

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

“Oh wow! Look who’s here today, our prince!” That evening, when Mutahir returned and saw Saim playing, he impulsively lifted him in his arms and kissed him.

“Who did you come with?” Carrying him, he walked inside.

“Mama, Baba, Aunty, Phopho.”

Saim informed him, wrapping his arms around his neck, as Mutahir smiled. Stepping into the TV lounge, he was pleasantly surprised. Apart from Shoaib Bhai and Rania Bhabhi, Hoor and Hafsa were also present.

“Assalam-o-Alaikum, everyone! How is everyone doing?” Setting Saim down, he hugged Shoaib Bhai—

“We are fine, Alhamdu Lillah. Tell us, man, how are you?” Shoaib Bhai asked while embracing him warmly.

“Doing great! Bhabhi, how are you?”

“I am fine too, Mutahir, and we’ve gotten to know about your well-being.” Seeing Bhabhi’s manner, he smiled.

“Ask about our well-being too—” Hoor directed his attention toward herself.

“You hover over my head twice a day anyway, what well-being is there to ask about you?” He sat right next to Bhabhi.

“Go freshen up, man!” Shoaib Bhai said, seeing him remove his tie. His sitting posture indicated he was going to sit there for quite a while.

“It’s okay, Bhai—I am not in the mood.” He took Saim into his lap, just as Zain and Mahrukh entered together with a tea trolley. He was surprised.

“Did you come as well?” he asked in surprise.

“What’s so surprising about that? Everyone was coming here, so I brought her along too. Besides, Phopho had specifically insisted on bringing her.” Compared to that other day, she looked relatively relaxed today. Wearing a pink dress with a white shirt featuring fine pink embroidery, she was serving tea with shy, lowered eyes.

“Chachu! Shall we play cricket?”

“Chachu is tired right now, you play alone—” Shoaib Bhai gently coaxed his son, who then went outside carrying a ball. Hafsa was serving snacks.

“Hafsa! Make a cup of black coffee for Mutahir, child,” Phopho said, as Mutahir did not drink tea. Hafsa nodded and went into the kitchen.

“How much sugar do you take in your tea, brother?” Hearing the soft tone, Mutahir involuntarily looked at the simple face framed by the pink dupatta.

“One spoon—” Shoaib answered, taking two-month-old Humair from Bhabhi’s lap.

“You come over here, Mahrukh! Sit near me—” After serving tea to everyone, as she picked up her cup and moved toward a chair, Bhabhi called her over—she was sitting on a cushion; nodding, Mahrukh sat near her, placing her cup on the table in front.

“Have dinner with us today, Bhabhi!” Mutahir said, as he liked Rania’s gentle and sociable nature.

“Of course, my brother! That’s why we came, right Phopho?”

“It’s your own home, child. Come whenever you feel like—do whatever you wish.”

Just then, Saim appeared at the lounge threshold with a ball in hand—Mutahir looked at him, but he was focused on Mahrukh, while she was unaware, her attention fixed on Mama and Bhabhi. The cup sat on the table, steam rising from it. Right behind Saim, Hafsa entered with a cup of coffee when Saim threw the ball toward Mahrukh with full force—the ball struck the cup on the table with speed. Mahrukh’s face was directly aligned with the cup—no one was paying attention to the ball until the cup overturned, but before the hot tea could hit her face, Mutahir swiftly extended his hand to cover her face. The cup crashed against his hand and shattered into pieces, and the hot tea burnt his hand. With a hiss of pain, Mutahir pulled his hand back, bringing everyone to their senses, while Mahrukh stared at Mutahir’s red face—there was some spell holding her gaze to Mutahir’s face—

“Mutahir! Are you alright, son?” Mami took his burnt hand into hers.

“I am fine, Mami—”

“Couldn't you find any other place?” Shoaib stood up and scolded Saim.

“Let it be, Bhai! What do children know about right and wrong—” Zain rescued Saim from his grip.

“Are you alright, child? No splashes hit your face, right?”

This time Phopho looked anxiously at Mahrukh, who sat dazed. Everyone turned their attention to her—she shook her head in refusal, a lump of tears in her throat, feeling a strange sensation forcing her to cry.

“Mutahir! Get up, son—freshen up and apply something to your hand—” On his mother’s instruction, he stood up and walked toward his room.

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

“Anjee! When are you coming back?” Calling her that night, he was quite restless—

“My heart doesn't agree yet, Mutahir!”

“Do you want to torment me?”

“I want to save you from pain, Mutahir!” Her tone was tearful.

“My pain will end only when you are happy—”

“I am happy, Mutahir!” Her tone choked up.

“You should lie to someone who doesn't know you, whereas I know your every nerve—”

Leaning against the railing, his eyes were fixed on the distant starry sky—his tone was heavy with intense emotion—

“Mutahir! Why does it happen that the ones we love give us such deep sorrow?”

“Not everyone is the same, Anjee!”

“Yes, you are right—” Angeline’s tearful voice stirred a wild frenzy in his heart, making him slam his fist on the railing with full force—the sensation of pain spread throughout his entire being.

“I feel like burying the person who brought tears to your eyes alive—” Angeline was stunned by the cruelty in his tone.

“Mutahir, please! Don't do anything—”

“I will do it, Anjee! You know me—”

“You won't say anything to him, Mutahir! If something happens to him, Mutahir! I will die too.” Angeline burst into tears as she spoke, leaving him motionless.

“Do you love him that much, Angeline?”

“I don't know how much I love him. But Mutahir! If something happens to him, I won't survive either.”

“Why don't you just tell me, what on earth happened that you went hiding seven seas away—” He was losing control over his restraint, his face flushed and fists clenched.

“You know Khala had been calling me for so long, that’s why I came.”

“Angeline Farooq!” Mutahir called out sternly to stop her from talking.

“Tell me the real reason why you are there—”

“I can't tell you. I won't even be able to tell you the reason, Mutahir! Please don't torment me by asking again and again. I fold my hands before you.”

“Angeline, please stop crying. I will never ask again.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, pinky promise.”

In the future, this topic—and even that person—would not be discussed. (Now whatever happens, the questions and answers will be with Abdul Ahad only.)

“Take care of yourself, Fi Amanillah.”

“If there is something she cannot tell me, then Abdul Ahad, you won't have to wait much longer to meet me. If a life is for a life, then honor is for honor, Abdul Ahad. Now when you go through such torment, only then will you understand.”

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

“Phopho! I suggest you get Mutahir Bhai married.”

Hoor suggested casually while searching channels, making Phopho smile and Zain laugh. That day Hoor and Mahrukh had come over with Zain; Mutahir was not at home. Ever since the tea incident, a major change had come over Mahrukh. She had visited their house twice, but didn't meet Mutahir on either occasion, and today he was busy again. In the TV lounge, she was also present along with Phopho, Hoor, and Zain.

“You say it as if it’s not marriage, but buying tomatoes from the street corner.”

“Actually, Hoor has a point—” Phopho said with a smile, looking at Hoor— “Do you have any girl in mind, Hoor?”

“No way—God forbid—” She touched her ears— “Who knows what mood the gentleman has? No idea what kind of girl his ideal would be.”

“Shahzain must know his preference. Tell us, what kind of girl does he want?” All three women looked at Zain, who shrugged carelessly.

“We have never talked about this matter—”

“I can’t believe that you two never discussed this topic!” Unbelief was evident in Phopho’s tone. “Such deep friendship and such ignorance—”

“Really Phopho! He never discussed this with me.”

“That is quite astonishing,” Hoor muttered while Mahrukh smiled. Zain instinctively saw her smile.

“You tell us, what kind of daughter-in-law do you want?” Shahzain turned toward Phopho.

“My wish was for Angeline,” Phopho took a deep breath, while Zain and Mahrukh looked at her in disbelief.

“I spoke to Mutahir, but he flatly refused. Despite so much mental compatibility, his refusal is still hard for me to digest—” Phopho’s tone seemed incredulous.

“Then ask Mutahir Bhai about his choice yourself, Amma! Maybe he likes someone.” Hoor said seriously, and Phopho’s questioning eyes fixed on Shahzain’s face again, annoying him.

“I really don't know, Phopho! Your son doesn't talk about such things with me either.”

His tone was full of irritation. Phopho smiled while Mah lowered her head.

“You can ask him yourself—” Just then, Mutahir entered, offering greetings—

“You people seem to be visiting us quite frequently these days—” Glancing at the bowed head, he addressed Hoor.

“Do you have any objection?”

“No. Why would I object?” Shrugging, he turned around when Shahzain grabbed his wrist and made him sit on the sofa.

Adjusting himself, he looked at Shahzain’s face in surprise.

“You root of all trouble—tell them, did you ever discuss marriage with me?”

“No—” He was surprised— “Never. An occasion never arose for this matter to be discussed, but what happened to you?” He was still confused.

“Phopho! Do you believe me now?” Shahzain had a complaining tone.

“Yes, my dear, forgive me—” Phopho laughed. “You two are wonders of this century, otherwise don't I know people nowadays?”

“What on earth is the matter, will someone explain to me too?”

Mutahir asked in a confused tone, just when a glass of water appeared before his eyes; Mutahir, Phopho, and Shahzain were all surprised for a moment. She was wearing a red and slate-gray printed dupatta with black trousers and a red shirt—

“Thanks—” Taking the glass, he shifted his gaze to his mother’s face, where a shadow of thought flickered.

“We need to find a bride for your marriage; tell us, what kind of girl do you want?”

Hoor said, watching his face closely, so he looked at his mother, whose eyes held the same question—Shahzain threw a teasing, mocking smile toward him, but it was Mutahir facing him. He placed the glass on the table, loosened his tie knot, and then calmly observed the expressions of those present before clearing his throat.

“My ideal……” Eyes fixed in space, his demeanor thoughtful. “Hmm…… I like healthy girls; the girl should not be weak at all.” At the very first condition, the mouths of Phopho, Zain, and Hoor dropped open in disbelief, while Mahrukh’s face turned pale like smoke.

“Don't tell me, man! You like healthy girls?”

Shah asked in disbelief, and Mutahir nodded in agreement.

“Absolutely…… and her complexion should be just like mine. If she’s fairer than me, that would be even better—” At the next quality, Phopho’s eyes seemed glued to her son’s face.

“I don't like wheatish or dusky complexions.” It was supreme indifference.

“Fairer than even you?” Shahzain gritted his teeth. “Just say you want a bland turnip—”

“Now you are getting annoyed for no reason, I am just describing my ideal. That too upon your request—” After his mother, he looked at Hoor’s face—

“She should be highly qualified; BA or FA hold no value in my eyes.” Saying this, he stood up. “Is there anything else you want to ask?” He paused and turned back before leaving—

“You could have told us her name too,” Hoor said with annoyance. For some reason, she felt shocked by Mutahir’s thoughts. She used to think Muhammad Mutahir was attracted more to inner beauty than outer appearance, but now she felt disappointed. After all, he too belonged to the same era where the blinding glitter tricks the heart along with the eyes.

“Name?” He looked at Hoor with a thoughtful gaze. “Whatever it is, it shouldn't start with the letter ‘M’ because my name already has a double M. I don't think a triple M would make much of an impression. Enjoy, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Whatever you just said out there, what percentage of it was true?”

When Mutahir came out of the washroom freshened up, Zain was already present in the room. As soon as he stepped out, Zain stopped right in front of him, speaking seriously. Mutahir looked at his face while rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Not even one percent.” Decorating his hair with his hands, the answer came with the same composure. Zain fell completely silent, then gritted his teeth.

“I feel like cursing you with specific abuses meant for girls.”

“Then do it, when did I stop you?” Spraying cologne, his calmness hadn't diminished one bit. Zain snatched the spray from his hand.

“I would curse you, but what can I do when your name stops me from doing so. Remember, the respect I have given you to this day is only because of your sacred name, otherwise your standard deserves nothing but curses.”

“You tell me, why are you getting so angry?” Reclining on the bed, he calmly looked at Zain’s restless face. “I like healthy girls,” Zain repeated while gritting his teeth. “Fair complexion and highly qualified—will you even find so many qualities in a single girl?”

“I’m telling you, man! All of that was a lie.”

“The important question is, why did a straightforward guy like you feel the need to lie?” This time Zain looked at his face with some seriousness.

“What kind of girl do you really like?” Taking a deep breath, Mutahir sat up straight. Facing the mirror, he fixed his gaze on Zain’s reflection.

“A little while ago, when that girl handed me the glass of water, Mama’s face completely paled. Zain! I cannot cause pain to my Mama. That’s why I said all those things that weren't even in my subconscious. That girl is skinny, hasn't even completed her BA, her complexion is dusky, and her name also starts with an ‘M’. That is why I had to say all that so that whatever thought had crossed Mama’s mind would be dispelled immediately.”

Exhaling a heavy breath, he lowered his head. Shahzain gently took his hand in his, and Mutahir smiled through his choked emotions.

“Whenever you smile like this, my heart sinks, Mutahir! Please, don't smile like this. What is missing in your life that doesn't even let you smile?”

“A father—” came involuntarily from his lips. Zain looked at his face in disbelief.

“A father?” Shahzain felt his own voice sounded unfamiliar.

“Yes, a father. I don't know why this feeling haunts me, as if my Baba is always with me. You might not believe it, but there is such a powerful feeling of his presence that keeps me enclosed, even though I always visit his grave, look at the soil, yet I don't know why I cannot believe that he isn't with me.”

“Do you miss Uncle that much?”

“Yes—” he admitted truthfully, then looked at Zain’s face, who was looking at him with great affection. “Come on, man! You’re looking at me so lovingly, even a girl wouldn't look like that.” He laughed involuntarily, making Zain smile too.

“You are a very cruel person, man! At least give someone a chance to look at this handsome face sometime, then see what happens.”

“I give up, spare me—” He folded his hands.

“Mutahir!” Shahzain said seriously. “Just as you mentioned Phopho’s feelings, this will become very difficult; she will be deeply hurt.”

“I will eliminate the cause of the grief, Zain! And very soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means returning everyone to their origin.” There was seriousness on his face.

“Don't tell me, Mutahir! Can you really do that?”

“I will not cause grief to my mother, Shahzain! Even if I have to do anything for it—anything means absolutely anything.” Standing up abruptly, he went into the dressing room.

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

“Please Jabeen! Help me. I cannot go through with this engagement.” Sara held her sister’s hands with a tearful face, pleading desperately.

“What can I do, Sara?” A sense of helplessness echoed in Jabeen’s voice.

“Tell Baba that I don't want to marry into a landlord family.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to him.” She stood up and went to Papa’s room.

“May I come in, Papa?” Knocking, she peeked inside; he was busy reading a book.

“Come in, child—” He placed the book on the side table. “Do you want to say something?” He looked closely at his daughter’s face, just as Farooq also arrived there.

“I wanted to talk to you, Papa—” Farooq said.

“Yes, speak—”

“Have you finalized Sara’s proposal with Muhammad Idriss?”

“Yes, I told you guys—” He looked at his daughter’s face calmly.

“Please refuse them.”

“Why should I refuse?”

“Because Sara won't be able to adjust in a feudal family.”

“Those people do not belong to a traditional feudal background. They are educated, conscious people. Sara will be happy. Abdul Rahim and Idriss are the only two brothers, and there is one sister. The mother is no more, she passed away in childhood. The father is there. It’s a short family, what else does a girl need? The boy is handsome, educated, and of good character. I guarantee that.”

“Everything is correct, but despite that, please refuse.” Farooq’s attitude was stubborn; Hayat Sahib looked at his son with annoyance.

“I have given my word to Abdul Khaliq, and men do not back out of their word—go and prepare for the wedding, now instead of an engagement, it will be a direct wedding, and whoever has an objection to this decision can leave this house.” He stated bluntly. Farooq and Jabeen returned disappointed.

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

It had been two weeks since he had seen Angeline Farooq. She wasn't coming to the university either, and the news he received yesterday blasted like a bomb on his nerves. Angeline Farooq had left for England two days ago. Returning this week, Abdul Ahad’s heart was restless in his chest; he wanted to see that fairy-like beauty who resided in his heart with immense dignity. Just as time had brought fragrance into Abdul Ahad’s life, three months later it had blown away like a breeze. Just like the very first day, he recalled that forgotten afternoon from three months ago when he had seen Angeline Farooq. Both had drawn near each other rapidly. He was anxiously waiting to meet Mutahir, but if everything in life happened according to a person’s wishes, life would indeed be a bed of roses. What happened to him was beyond his wildest imagination. When he hurt Angeline Farooq, his own heart cried too. When Anjee suffered, Abdul Rahim groaned as well.

And those moments in Abdul Rahim’s life were like a sharp sword, walking upon which he had not only bled himself, but also wounded the person dearest to his heart.

His thoughts came to a halt when, in the morning light, a handsome young man signaled him to stop. They had just left the village and transitioned from the brick road to the asphalt road when his foot involuntarily hit the brakes.

“I need a lift.” As the young man leaned into the window, Musaffa hid her face in her shawl. Ahad told Musaffa to sit in the back and asked him to step inside.

“Where do you want to go?” Driving, Ahad looked at the handsome young lad wearing a white shalwar suit beside him—he was barely two or two and a half years younger than him; at Ahad’s question, he turned his full attention.

“I don't have to go anywhere, I have to hijack you.” The composure was worth seeing. Abdul Rahim was surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing spontaneously.

“Nice joke, I enjoyed it.”

“I have no relation with you to joke around—” Dialing a phone number, he said to someone, “Come,” and hung up the phone. This time Abdul Rahim was startled; hitting the brakes, Musaffa looked at both of them with worry.

“Why are you so surprised, Abdul Rahim! You don't know me, but I know you—” There was a rock-like harshness in his tone. “Get out of the car—”

“And if I don't?” Ahad was not so cowardly as to surrender immediately.

“I don't think you will make that foolish mistake, especially when your sister is with you.” His tone was warning.

“Brother, please don't get down.” Hearing the tearful voice, Abdul Ahad turned—

“I’ll be right back, Musaffa! Don't worry.” Gently patting her head, he stepped out, just as a slate-gray Toyota pulled up near them; the newcomer was Zain.

“Tell the girl to sit in the car.” Abdul Ahad, truly terrified for the first time, looked at the faces of both boys, just as he saw Shahzain leaning into the window, Ahad pushed him back.

“If you dare go near that car, remember you won't survive alive!”

“Mr. Abdul Ahad—” Mutahir grabbed his collar with both hands and gave it a jerk.

“People like you shouldn't display so much honor.”

“Who are you?”

“Muhammad Mutahir—is that enough or should I introduce myself further? Zain, take the girl, and if she resists, shoot her. I’ll handle the rest myself.” Zain opened the door—

“If you want your brother’s life, get into my car immediately—”

“You cannot do this, Mutahir—” Ahad’s face was red while his breathing had quickened.

“And who can stop me from doing this?” A mocking smile flickered on his lips.

“I will stop you.” Abdul Ahad landed a powerful punch on Mutahir’s face. Mutahir staggered but recovered, while Zain remained frozen for a second.

“You stubborn brute—” Mutahir struck back with full force.

“Zain! You go—” And Zain abruptly drove the car forward.

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

“Angeline Farooq—” She was startled. Shahzain had never called her by her full name, but now that he was doing so, her surprise was justified.

“What happened, Zain?”

“Come back to Pakistan, come back as soon as possible—”

“What happened? Is everything alright, Zain?”

“Everything is about to end here, Angeline! Muhammad Mutahir’s life is at stake, only you can save him—”

“W... What are you saying, Zain?”

“I am telling the truth, Angeline! Mutahir’s smile is about to leave him forever. Please come back—”

“But tell me, what happened to him? Otherwise, my heart will burst.” As she wept, Shahzain bit his lips.

“I don't know! What on earth happened between you people that you went so far away, but I know this much that your distance has brought Mutahir to a point where he stands at a crossroad. For the first time in life, a few days ago, I saw life smiling in his eyes, Anjee! Now life is turning its back on him, please come back and save him. Let him accept what destiny has written, let him save himself and an innocent soul from torment, he only listens to you.”

“I... I am coming, Zain! Very soon—”

--- ♡ ۞ ♡ ---

“Abdul Ahad! My son! Are you alright?” When he regained consciousness, he found himself in his room; he looked at his father’s face for a few moments, then as his mind awakened, he sat up abruptly.

“Baba…… Musaffa?” He looked around with searching eyes.

“Tell me Ahad! What happened and where is Musaffa?”

“Baba……” Clinging to his chest, he burst into tears. “Nothing happened to me, but he took Musaffa away, please save her—” He cried like a child.

“Who Ahad? Who took Musaffa away?” They pulled him away from their chest with a jerk.

“Phopho was right, those people are very bad, I shouldn't have walked on this path, but believe me I didn't do anything wrong, so what is he trying to avenge on Musaffa?”

“Tell me, Ahad—” They shook Ahad. “Tell me where Musaffa is?” His face was turning red.

“Mutahir…… Baba! He took Musaffa away, he will do something wrong.”

“Abdul Ahad, look at me, son—” Taking Ahad’s face in his hands, he said, and Ahad looked at him with tearful eyes.

“Nothing will happen to Musaffa, that is my promise, and God forbid if I fail to protect her, I swear I won't return alive either.”

“Baba!” Abdul Ahad looked at his flushed face in disbelief—