Dil ke jazbaat jo lafzon mein dhal gaye, 
Ek anjaan ehsaas ke saath chal gaye. 
Khamoshi ke darmiyan jo baat keh di, 
Woh mohabbat thi jo dil se beh di. 

Sitaron ke tale ek mulaqat hui, 
Ek nazar mein puri kismat band hui. 
Darr ke saaye mein mohabbat ka izhaar, 
Zindagi ne diya ek naya raag. 

Suno ae dil, yeh faisla tera hoga, 
Mohabbat ke safar mein raasta tera hoga. 
Khuda ke hawale kar apni kahani, 
Jo likha hai, woh hoga asmani. 

Dil Ke Jazbaat Ka Pehla Izhaar

The soft light of dawn seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. Outside, the serene sound of the Azaan echoed in the air, a soulful call that seemed to touch every corner of the house. Meerab stirred awake, the rhythm of the morning prayer pulling her from her slumber. She rubbed her eyes, her movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the tranquility of the moment.

The room was modest but warm, reflecting her personality. A small prayer mat folded neatly in one corner, a bookshelf filled with medical textbooks and religious scriptures, and a simple bed with floral-patterned sheets spoke of her balanced life. She stretched, her muscles easing into wakefulness, and stood up.

Walking toward the attached washroom,  Her hair was slightly tousled, her face still carrying the softness of sleep. she stepped inside and performed her wuzu, the cold water refreshing her senses and her spirit.

When she emerged, she instinctively wrapped her face with her dupatta, the gesture as much a part of her as breathing. Her gaze fell on the bed beside hers. Zubair, her 14-year-old nephew, lay curled up under his blanket, his face serene in deep sleep. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she walked over to him.

"Zubair, utho," she said gently, her hand resting on his shoulder.

She shook him lightly, her tone firm but caring.

He stirred but didn’t open his eyes.

"Yaar, Phuppo, sone dein," he mumbled, his voice muffled as he pulled the blanket closer.

A small smile tugged at her lips, but she didn’t relent.

"Utho, Zubair. Azaan ho gayi hai aur namaz ka waqt ho raha hai. Utho aur masjid jao," she insisted, her voice now carrying a no-nonsense edge.

With a groan of reluctance, he finally peeked out from under the blanket, his eyes squinting against the dim light.

"Theek hai," he muttered, sitting up slowly.

Meerab watched as he dragged himself out of bed, his movements sluggish yet obedient. He headed toward the washroom, rubbing his face to shake off the remnants of sleep.

She watched him leave for the masjid.

Turning her attention back to her own devotion, she spread the prayer mat on the floor. The fabric felt cool beneath her feet as she stood and raised her hands, immersing herself in her connection with the Allah. Each word of the prayer brought her peace, her heart lightening with every recitation.

When her namaz was complete, she reached for the Quran placed on the small table nearby. The feel of its pages beneath her fingertips was comforting, like the embrace of an old friend. She began to recite, her voice low and soft, each word filling the room with a serenity that only the holy text could bring.

The early rays of sunlight slipped through the cracks in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. Meerab was still in a peaceful slumber, her face calm and serene. She held the corner of her blanket tightly, cocooned in the comfort of her bed.

But the peace was short-lived. A knock broke the silence, faint at first but growing louder with each passing second. Meerab frowned, her eyes fluttering open for a moment before she groaned and pressed her pillow over her ears. She shifted to her side, determined to ignore the sound.

The knocking continued.

Reluctantly sitting up. Her hair was a mess, and sleep still lingered in her eyes as she turned toward the door. Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to the door and opened it.

Standing there, looking far too cheerful for such an early hour, was Zubair.

Meerab narrowed her eyes at him.

"Kya musibat hai?" she asked, her voice groggy but laced with mock irritation.

Zubair grinned and stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation. Meerab sighed, turning around to face him.

"Meri pyari Phuppo," he began with a dramatic flourish. "Aap toh meri pyari Phuppo hain na?"

Meerab raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Kya kaam hai?"

Zubair held up a notebook, his grin widening. "Maths ka homework hai. Please kar dein. Sirf paanch minute ka kaam hai," he said, holding the book out toward her.

Meerab grabbed the notebook with a look of disbelief.

"Toh tumne khud kyun nahi kiya?" She paused, her expression turning knowing. "Oh, wait. Janab toh cricket khelne mein busy the."

Zubair shrugged sheepishly. "Match tha. Kaise chhod deta? Accha, baad mein tahamul, fursat se daant lijiye ga. Ab please homework kar dein. Main school ke liye taiyaar ho jata hoon."

Meerab gave him a long, scrutinizing look.

"Please," Zubair added, his voice softer, his eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.

Meerab sighed, already knowing she’d give in. "Thik hai. But this is the last time, okay?"

Zubair nodded earnestly. They both knew it wasn’t the last time. It never was. No matter how many times Meerab declared her help would end here, she always found herself giving in to her nephew’s requests.

Zubair walked over to his cupboard, pulling out his neatly folded uniform. As he sorted through his clothes, Meerab sat on the bed and opened the notebook.

"Waise," she said, glancing up at him, "agar bhai ya bhabhi ko pata lag gaya na in ‘services’ ka, meri toh shamat aani hai. Waise hi bhabhi ka gussa uroj par hai aaj kal."

Zubair turned to face her, his uniform in hand, and grinned. "Chill, Phuppo. Unhe kabhi pata nahi lagega."

Meerab smirked, shaking her head. "Mr. Chill, jaake school ke liye taiyaar ho jao. Warna tumhari ammi aake tumhe chill karengi."

"Ja raha hoon," Zubair replied, walking toward the washroom.

Just before he entered, he turned back, his expression serious.

"Aur Phuppo," he said.

Meerab raised her head from the notebook, curious.

"Please gandi handwriting mein likhna. Last time teacher ne almost pakad liya tha," he said, disappearing into the washroom with his uniform in hand.

Meerab stared after him, her jaw dropping slightly. "Yeh accha hai," she muttered.

"Pehle toh janab ka homework karo, woh bhi unki kidhe-makode wali handwriting mein." She shook her head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

She began to write, mimicking his messy scrawl as best as she could. These small, chaotic moments were a part of her life now, and though they sometimes disrupted her peace, they also brought a sense of warmth and belonging that she wouldn’t trade for anything.

For Meerab, mornings often started like this with a mix of mischief, affection, and the unmistakable bond she shared with Zubair.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting warm rays over the SS Academy of Medical Sciences. It was another ordinary day for Meerab, who had just stepped out of a lecture on Electrocardiography and Cardiac Monitoring.

The lecture had been intense, with the professor explaining the intricacies of interpreting ECG rhythms. Meerab’s notebook was filled with diagrams and bullet points, a testament to her focus and dedication. Walking beside her was Saba, her best friend, whose chatter provided a welcome distraction from the academic intensity.

As they strolled toward the canteen, the familiar hum of students filled the air. The aroma of fresh samosas and chai wafted through the corridor, mingling with the distant sound of laughter.

The canteen was lively, tables filled with groups of students sharing food, jokes, and stories. As Meerab and Saba entered, Murtasim was walking in from the opposite direction with his best friend, Shazeb. Though neither looked directly at the other, both Meerab and Murtasim felt a shift in the air a subtle awareness of the other’s presence, like an invisible thread pulling them closer.

Shazeb glanced at Murtasim, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. As they settled on a bench, he leaned in slightly.

"Izhaar kyun nahi kar deta usse?" he asked, his voice light but teasing.

Murtasim sighed, his gaze fixed on the bustling canteen.

"Sahi waqt ka intezar kar raha hun," he replied, his tone calm but resolute.

Shazeb chuckled, shaking his head. "Kahin sahi waqt ka intezar karte karte der na ho jaye," he said, his voice tinged with concern.

Murtasim turned to look at his friend, his eyes reflecting both conviction and uncertainty.

"Khair," Shazeb said, brushing off the seriousness of the moment,

"mai khane ke liye kuch lata hun." He got up, leaving Murtasim lost in his thoughts.

At a table far away, Meerab and Saba sat with their snacks. Saba had ordered chicken rolls, one of their favorites, and was already halfway through hers.

"Tume lagta hai vo kabhi izhaar karega tumse?" Saba asked suddenly, her voice carrying a teasing lilt as she took another bite of her roll.

Meerab frowned, her eyes narrowing.

"Shut up, Saba. Aisa kuch nahi hai," she said firmly, though her tone betrayed a hint of flustered denial.

Saba smirked, clearly unconvinced.

"Mujhe toh nahi lagta," she replied, her voice deliberately provoking.

Meerab groaned, pushing her chair back.

"Agar tumhe aisi fazool baatein karni hain, toh mai ja rahi hun yahan se," she declared, standing up with an air of mock indignation.

Saba quickly reached out, grabbing Meerab’s hand.

"Accha, beto na yaar," she pleaded, her voice playful but earnest.

Meerab sat back down, giving Saba a warning look.

"Nahi karungi aisi baatein. Ok?" Saba said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

Meerab stared at her, her expression softening slightly. Saba, grinning, picked up her roll and held it out toward Meerab.

Meerab raised an eyebrow, unsure, but Saba lifted her eyebrows in encouragement. Finally, Meerab leaned forward and took a bite, her lips curling into a reluctant smile.

Saba laughed softly.

The moment felt light, filled with the kind of camaraderie only best friends share. As the two continued their meal, neither noticed the fleeting glance Murtasim cast in their direction, his heart silently hoping for the courage to turn their unspoken connection into something more.

The morning sun shone brightly over the college parking lot as Meerab parked her family’s car, her expression a mixture of annoyance and resignation. Beside her sat Zubair, his demeanor casual, seemingly unaffected by the unexpected turn of events.

"Yeh ajeeb pareshani hai," Meerab muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Tumhare school walon ko prior information dene ki zarurat nahi mehsoos hoti kya ki school ka off aaj ke din ?"

Zubair lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, avoiding her pointed glare.

Meerab sighed. It was rare for her to bring the car to college. Typically, it was used by her father or brother. But today, on her bhabhi Shaziya’s insistence, she had agreed to drop Zubair off at school before heading to college. Unfortunately, upon arriving, they found the school gates closed due to some unexpected issue.

With time running short, Meerab had no choice but to bring Zubair along with her to college. As she stepped out of the car, Zubair followed suit, his curious eyes scanning the campus.

As they walked into the bustling college grounds, they were greeted by Saba, who approached them with her usual vibrant energy.

"Zubair yahan?" Saba asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise after greeting Meerab.

Meerab let out a tired sigh and quickly explained the situation.

"Accha," Saba said, nodding in understanding. She turned her attention to Zubair and greeted him warmly.

Zubair smiled and greeted her back, his shy demeanor softening under Saba’s friendly gaze.

"Koi baat nahi, Zubair. Humare saath university ka time spend karenge. Haina?" Saba said with a playful grin.

Zubair hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.

"Aap kehti hain toh kar lete hain," he replied, his tone carrying a mix of play fullness and flirtyness.

Meerab rolled her eyes at his reply, while Saba giggled, clearly enjoying the exchange.

Meanwhile, across the campus courtyard, Murtasim and Shazeb observed the trio from a distance. Shazeb’s eyes squinted as he studied Zubair with growing curiosity.

"Kahin yeh uska beta toh nahi?" Shazeb muttered, his voice laced with intrigue.

Murtasim turned to him sharply, his brows furrowing. "Kya bakwas kar raha hai?"

Shazeb grinned mischievously, but his tone was serious.

"Murtasim, mai kya kaha tha na? Sahi waqt ka intezar karte karte der ho jaayegi. Dekho, ho gayi der," he said, gesturing subtly toward Meerab and Zubair.

Murtasim’s gaze shifted back to the trio, his mind racing.

"Tume kaise pata ki yeh uska beta hai?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Shazeb tilted his head, studying Zubair intently.

"Dekh nahi rahe ho? Unka face cut kitna same hai. Aur woh uske jaise dikhta bhi hai," he replied confidently.

Murtasim shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea.

"Itna bada beta kaise ho sakta hai uska?" he said, his voice firm but unsure.

Shazeb chuckled.

"Kyun nahi ho sakta? Aaj kal toh chhoti umar ke bacche bhi bade lagte hain. Shayad uski age kam ho aur woh humein bade age ka lag raha ho," he reasoned.

Murtasim’s thoughts spiraled. Could it be true? What if Meerab was married and Zubair really was her son? The idea sent a pang through his heart, a mix of confusion, disbelief, and something else he wasn’t ready to name.

From afar, Meerab and Saba laughed at something Zubair said, their carefree demeanor in stark contrast to Murtasim’s turmoil. For the first time, doubt crept into his mind doubt that maybe the connection he felt with Meerab was a one-sided fantasy, something he had built in his mind while her life had moved in a different direction.

Shazeb, sensing Murtasim’s silent struggle, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Jo bhi hai, yaar, chal der ho rahi hai," he said with a sly smile.

Murtasim nodded absently, his eyes still on Meerab. He had to know the truth, even if it wasn’t what he hoped for.

The sun was climbing higher, warming the college grounds as Meerab finished her first lecture of the day. The topic had been complex, revolving around Cardiac Imaging Techniques, and she had jotted down detailed notes, determined to review them later.

She glanced at Zubair, who was sitting quietly outside her lecture hall. With the class done, she decided it was time to take him back home. The drive was uneventful, Zubair dozing off in the passenger seat as Meerab navigated through the streets. Once home, she made sure he was settled before rushing back to college, knowing she couldn’t afford to miss her remaining classes.

Meanwhile, Murtasim was sitting on the grassy expanse of the college ground, lost in thought. The morning’s events weighed on him, and his mind replayed every moment he’d seen Meerab and Zubair together.

The idea that she might have a child had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. He leaned back, staring up at the clear blue sky, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on his chest.

Shazeb approached, his usual cheerful demeanor intact as he plopped down beside Murtasim.

"Arre bhai," Shazeb said, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "Teri koi rakib nahi hai."

Murtasim blinked, his train of thought interrupted.

He turned to Shazeb, confusion evident on his face. "Kya?"

Shazeb chuckled, enjoying his friend’s bewilderment.

"Vo uska beta nahi tha, bhatija tha," he explained, emphasizing the words as if delivering a dramatic twist in a story.

A wave of relief washed over Murtasim, the tension in his shoulders easing. He hadn’t realized just how much the thought had troubled him until now.

But Shazeb wasn’t done. His tone grew more serious as he leaned closer.

"Lekin iska matlab yeh nahi ki ab koi rakib nahi hai toh aage bhi nahi aayega," he said pointedly.

"Sahi waqt ka intezar karna chhod aur bol de usse. Jo hoga dekha jayega."

Murtasim remained silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point on the horizon. Shazeb’s words struck a chord, echoing the doubts and fears he’d been wrestling with for weeks.

Shazeb sighed, patting Murtasim on the back.

"Dekh, yaar. Agar tu waaqai uske liye kuch feel karta hai, toh der mat kar. Zindagi mein kabhi kabhi risk lena padta hai," he said, standing up.

Murtasim nodded slowly, though he didn’t say anything. Shazeb was right, as usual. Waiting for the perfect moment might mean waiting forever.

As Shazeb walked away, Murtasim stayed seated on the grass, his thoughts now clearer, but his heart racing with the decision he knew he’d have to make soon.

Meerab was sitting on a bench at the student point, the shaded area bustling with students and the hum of chatter. She and Saba were deep in discussion, her focus on a notebook resting between them. Meerab’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she shared her thoughts, but her words trailed off when she suddenly felt a familiar presence.

She grew quiet, her heart inexplicably aware of someone nearby. Saba followed her gaze and saw Murtasim and Shazeb approaching.

After exchanging greetings, Shazeb smiled mischievously.

"Hmm, apko koi professor bula rahi hai," he said, directing his comment toward Saba.

"Mujhe?" Saba asked, puzzled.

"Ji," Shazeb confirmed.

"Kahan?"

Shazeb gestured vaguely. "Ji wahan per," he said, pointing toward a corner.

Saba squinted at the direction he indicated. "Wahan toh restroom hai," she replied with a raised brow.

"I mean restroom ke bagal wale room mein," Shazeb quickly corrected, his sheepish grin betraying his awkward excuse.

Saba gave him a skeptical look. "Accha, wahan kyun?"

"Yeh toh ap khud jaake puch lein," Shazeb said nonchalantly.

Meerab's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched this exchange.

"Meerab, main abhi aati hoon," Saba said, rising from her seat.

"Saba," Meerab called softly, but Saba was already leaving with Shazeb.

Meerab's irritation grew. How could Saba leave her alone like this? She glanced down, unsure of what to do as Murtasim now stood before her.

"Main apse zaruri baat karni hai," Murtasim began after a greet, his voice steady despite the nervousness evident in his demeanor.

"Agar apki ijazat ho toh main yahan baith sakta hoon?"

Meerab’s heart skipped a beat. This was the first time Murtasim had spoken to her directly. His voice was steady, but there was a nervous undertone.

She looked up briefly, startled, before glancing away.

"Ji?" she managed to say, unsure if she’d heard him correctly.

"Agar apki ijazat ho, toh mai yahan baith sakta hun. Kuch kehna hai apse,"

Murtasim repeated, his voice softer now, but his sincerity is unmistakable.

Meerab hesitated, her mind racing. Interactions with men were rare for her, limited only to necessity, and this felt far from ordinary. She nodded faintly, unable to form words.

Murtasim took a seat across from her, his hands clasped together tightly. Both their gazes remained fixed on the ground, the moment heavy with unspoken emotions.

"Main Murtasim Khan hoon," he started, his tone humble. "Isi hospital mein house job karta hoon."

Meerab listened in silence, her hands resting in her lap, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her dupatta. She wondered why he was introducing himself

Murtasim took a deep breath, summoning courage.

"Mujhe nahi pata yeh baatein kaise ki jaati hain," he admitted. "Nahi pata kaise izhaar kiya jaata hai. Par ek baat zaruri hai kehna. Main apse mohabbat karta hoon."

His words hung in the air, simple yet profound. His words hit her like a sudden gust of wind, leaving her breathless. Meerab’s heart raced as he continued.

"Jabse apko dekha hai, meri duniya badal gayi hai. Apki mohabbat mere dil mein bas gayi hai," he confessed, his voice unwavering. "Yeh mohabbat na jaane kaise hui, bas hogayi."

Murtasim’s sincerity was undeniable. He took a moment before continuing, his voice soft yet firm.

"Mera Allah gawah hai, kabhi bhi apko galat nazar se nahi dekha. Nahi kabhi apke liye koi galat irada rakha. Meri mohabbat nafs se nahi, dil se hai, aur uss dil mein sirf nikkah ka irada hai."

Meerab’s breath hitched. Meerab’s hands trembled slightly. She stared at the ground, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion and surprise.

"Mai sirf ek halal rasta chahte hoon,Mai apse nikkah ka irada rakhta hoon" Murtasim said, his tone reverent. "Aur agar apki raza ho, toh main apke ghar rishta lana chahta hoon."

He paused, giving her time to process his words. "Isliye, main apki ijazat chahta hoon," he added, his gaze still lowered out of respect.

Meerab remained silent. Her heart raced, torn between fear and an unfamiliar fluttering sensation.

Murtasim noticed her silence. "Koi jaldbazi nahi hai," he assured her, his voice kind. "Zaruri nahi ke ap abhi jawab dein. Ap apna waqt lein, sochein. Agar ap razi hain, toh mujhe apke ghar ka address aur Walid ka number de dijiyega.Mai intazar karunga."

With that, Murtasim rose. "Ab mujhe ijazat dein. Allah Hafiz," he said gently before walking away.

Meerab sat frozen on the bench, unable to move or speak. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling shock, fear, or something deeper she couldn’t yet name. She clutched her dupatta tighter, her mind replaying his words as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Her gaze lingered on the path he had taken, her world suddenly feeling much larger and unfamiliar than it had just moments ago.

The day seemed endless as Meerab sat with Saba in a quiet corner of the college lawn, recounting the earlier encounter with Murtasim. Saba listened intently, her expressions shifting between shock and excitement.

"Kya? Hayee Allah!" Saba exclaimed, clutching her chest dramatically.

"Meerab, mai toh aise cheezein sirf dramas mein dekhti hoon ya novels mein padhti hoon. Agar mai hoti, toh jat se haan kar deti. Tumne kya kaha?"

Meerab lowered her gaze, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her dupatta.

"Kuch nahi," she mumbled.

"Kya?!" Saba's eyes widened in disbelief.

"tumne kuch nahi kaha?"

"Kya kehti mai, Saba? Mujhe khud nahi pata tha mujhe kya kehna chahiye," Meerab said, her voice filled with confusion. "I was so surprised, yaar. Aur upar se yeh soch rahi thi ke agar meri family ko pata laga, toh vo kya sochenge? Ki mai affair chala rahi thi?"

Saba rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by Meerab's logic. "Kuch nahi sochenge! Tumari family tumhe acchi tarah jantien hai. Jo ladki kisi ghair ladke se sidhe muh baat tak nahi karti, vo affair chalaye gi? Nice joke, Meerab."

Meerab sighed, resting her forehead against her hand. "Mujhe kuch samajh nahi aa raha, Saba. Kya karun? Mujhe dar lag raha hai."

Saba placed a comforting hand on Meerab's shoulder. Her voice softened, filled with reassurance. "Tension na le. We'll figure out something, okay?. Insha Allah sab thik ho jayega"

Meerab looked at her friend, her expression still uncertain, but there was a flicker of trust in her eyes. She nodded slowly.

Saba stood up, dusting her hands off. "Chalein? Class ka time ho raha hai."

Meerab nodded again, rising to her feet. Together, they walked toward the lecture hall, but Meerab's mind was far from the day's lessons. The weight of Murtasim's confession lingered, a mixture of fear, doubt, and an unspoken hope tugging at her heart.

The cool evening breeze swept across the hospital grounds as Murtasim sat alone in a quiet corner of the garden, lost in thought. The vibrant world around him seemed dull and distant as he grappled with the storm within.

Did I do the right thing? The question echoed endlessly in his mind. His heart had urged him to confess, but now his mind is filled with doubt. Did I say something wrong? Was I too forward? What if she doesn’t feel the same way?

The thought stung. What if Meerab had someone else in her life? His heart clenched at the possibility, though he knew he had no right to feel this way. She had her own life, her own choices. Still, the fear of rejection was suffocating.

Why did she stay silent? He tried to recall every moment of their brief conversation, searching for clues in her expressions, her body language, anything that could explain her silence. Did I ruin everything? Did she think I was too impulsive?

He buried his face in his hands, frustration and regret clawing at his chest. "Ya Allah," he whispered to himself, seeking guidance in the solitude of his thoughts.

On the other side, Meerab sat by the window of her room, staring at the darkening sky. Her heart was a jumble of emotions confusion, surprise, fear, and tension.

She had always been focused on her studies and responsibilities. Thoughts of love or marriage had never crossed her mind. Yet now, Murtasim’s heartfelt confession lingered, filling her with unease.

How could I go to my family and tell them someone wants to bring a proposal? The mere thought sent shivers down her spine. It wasn’t that her family was backward or conservative; they were understanding and supportive. But still, how could she start this conversation?

Whom should I speak to? Ammi? Abbu? Bhabhi? Bhai? She felt lost. This was uncharted territory for her. Her upbringing hadn’t prepared her for such situations.

Her thoughts drifted back to Murtasim. What must he be thinking about me? She recalled the sincerity in his voice, the way he had nervously expressed his feelings, and the respect he had shown. Yet she had remained silent.

Did he think I disrespected him? Did I embarrass him? Her heart felt heavy at the thought. She had never been close to any boy, never interacted with them beyond academics. The idea of sharing her personal thoughts with one felt foreign and overwhelming.

She sighed deeply, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window. Ya Allah, mujhe raah dikha. Kya karun? She whispered her prayer into the night, seeking guidance as both she and Murtasim wrestled with their inner battles, separated by distance but connected by the weight of uncertainty.

To be continued...

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