These mountains that you are carrying,
you were only supposed to climb.

- Nejwa Zabian

Saturday - 11:21am

Ibrahim Yazdani didn't like feeling useless, especially when it came to walking behind his mother and sister when they shopped.

Morad Yazdani, his father, insisted that one of the brothers always accompanied their mother whenever she wanted to go out for shopping; Safaa, he knew, could not handle the old woman alone. And as it was, mostly Mustafa carried out the responsibility but this time, Ibrahim's shoulders were burdened with this task.

And God, he hated every minute of it.

His mother, like any other woman on the planet, loved shopping. Ibrahim sincerely doubted if she had ever stopped for a minute to rest as she walked through the crowded Bazaars of the city, with pace that sometimes even he couldn't keep up with. It was not until she had returned back home that the pain made itself known, and rest of the day dragged by with her children massaging her legs.

Today, as he walked behind his mother and sister, holding their shopping bags in his hand while trying to match their excited steps with his bored ones, he tried hard not to groan as he wiped bead of sweat from his forehead.

The sun shone above his head mercilessly, sweat trickling down the thick brows of his. With a black shirt that was pressed against the chiseled chest and collarbone that was rendered damp, Ibrahim Yazdani couldn't help but clench his teeth ferociously.

"How much more, Ammu?" Ibrahim couldn't take anymore and finally groaned, but Ammu was busy scanning the pashmina shawls that were hung outside the shop.

However, Safaa did turn around and halted when she saw her brother glaring at her, his face masking the expressions of utter tiredness and annoyance. Stifling a laugh, she shook her head and turned around to say something in Ammu's ears.

"I feel like such a chauffeur." Ibrahim said as he looked at the back of the head of his mother who didn't pay much attention to Safaa and continued on with her shopping.

They had been strolling the Bazaar for the past two hours, and as of now, the only thing his mother had bought was a decoration piece and some cutlery. To top it all, the day they had chosen to go out on was excruciatingly hot. Abbottabad was a fairly cold city, with days that the sun shone brightly restricted to only a few.

But today, however, nothing seemed to go in Ibrahim's luck and he inhaled a deep breath as he wiped the sweat off his temple with the back of his hand. However, he knew it wasn't mainly the weather taking its toil - it was walking continuously for two hours in narrow streets of the crowded bazaar.

Although he had insisted on going to the mall, Ammu's traditional school of thoughts had taken over, emphasizing that bazaars offer a greater variety and now all three of them stood in the middle of a crowded one, sun pitying them as it shone.

"Honestly, my Eccrine Glands had never been this much stimulated in all my life." Safaa said with a small chuckle as she wiped her forehead with her shawl, coming to stand beside Ibrahim who only rolled his eyes.

"Yes, these medical terms are all that I need now." Ibrahim said with a scoff but the tiredness in his eyes was replaced with hope when his mother turned around to look at her son, a small smile on her face.

"You are more tired than I am." She laughed while adjusting the large shawl that covered her head.

"Anyone will be if they walk two hours in a bazaar only to end up buying some cutlery." Ibrahim responded with an annoyed face, earning a laugh from his mother who slapped him on his arm.

"And a decoration piece." Ibrahim added after a moment but smiled slightly at the way his mother made a face.

"Well, we have to look carefully before buying anything." Safaa said, earning a glare from the man that instantly made her sheepish.

"It's not a proposal that we have to think carefully. It's only cutlery." Ibrahim deadpanned, earning another slap from his mother on the arm.

"Don't talk to your sister like that." Mahwash Yazdani narrowed her eyes and Ibrahim shook his head before raising his hands in the air defensively, not forgetting to roll his eyes as he did.

"I think we should go. It's too hot today." Safaa said and Ammu sighed before nodding her head.

"Ammu, don't you feel hot?" Ibrahim looked at the shawl that covered the woman and asked.

"No, child. I'm used to it." She replied with a smile.

"You have patience of a saint, then." Ibrahim said with a laugh, finally feeling better at the thought of going back.

"Very much contrary to you." Safaa felt obliged to remark and Ibrahim only turned his head around to glare at her, amused nevertheless.

Their car was parked in the parking lot at the other side of the road. Ibrahim, knowing that his mother wouldn't be able cross the busy road courtesy to her slow tread, decided to bring the car here, an action that he knew would save his mother unnecessary walk.

"Stay here, Ammu. I'll bring the car." Ibrahim said as he left his mother's hand while looking at the traffic that flowed swiftly along the road. With small eyes safely hidden behind the sunglasses he wore, he scanned the road and made his way across it, careful as the cars moved past him.

He stood on the pavement that separated the two one-way roads, looking carefully at the traffic that flowed across. Today was Saturday, a weekend, so the traffic was unusually more than normal. With sun still blazing over his head, he wiped another band of sweat that dripped down his temple, observing the traffic with attention.

Just as he stepped on the other side, a scream vibrated his ear drums, a scream he knew would haunt him for years to come, and his feet refused to move for a second. The terrifying scream was followed by screeching of the tires against the paved road, shouts of the people he knew not so well, curses of the strangers that passed and finally, a sigh of the woman who bore him in her hands.

"Abi." The pained sigh of his mother reached him despite the eruption that had suddenly filled the place, and Ibrahim Yazdani knew he would never be able to function again.

Like a bullet fired from the gun, that actually happened to be searing pain that shot through him at the sound of his mother, he rushed towards the shawl-clad woman who was crying in pain, crossing the cars in a beat that had stopped to look at the unfolding, terrifying scene.

"Abi." She breathed, tears fusing with crimson blood that trickled down the thin, aged brows.

"Ammu." Ibrahim yelled over the voices of the people who were encircled around them, taking her weak, feeble hands in his own as he patted her wrinkled face with dread filling his heart.

"Ammu, Ammu. Please. Stay with us." His words were incoherent, jumbled and confused, but he knew that his mother never needed to hear words to understand what his son wanted to say.

The woman closed her lids in pain before opening them with difficulty that Ibrahim knew cost her precious breath and energy. With lips that were parted open in pain, and crimson-coloured water whose sight was barricading his own throat, he knew then and there that the scene would bless his nightmares many a times from now on.

"Abi, we have to take her to the hospital." Over the whispers and shouts of the strange people, Ibrahim finally heard a familiar sound.

Ibrahim felt Safaa's shaking hand on his shoulder as she sat beside him. People around tried in vain to pick him up from the ground, but Ibrahim simply refused to move as he patted his mother's face repeatedly, her head cradled in his lap with him crying out her name as sheer horror enveloped him.

Mahwah Yazdani's face was filled with pain, blood and sweat, her shawl slipped from her head as faint streaks of white saw the light of day and Ibrahim Yazdani knew he had not seen a more painful scene in his entire life. With grief-studded eyes that seemed to gaze at him with emptiness, and wrinkled face sprawled with crimson blood, Ibrahim felt that his own soul was departing him.

"Ammu." He didn't try to stifle the cry of agony that left him; neither did he halt the streams of tears that slipped his eyes.

"Ammu, look at me." The pale eyes of his mother met his, both brown and both pained, and Ibrahim Yazdani sucked in a harsh breath at the hollowness in them.

"Please, stay with me." He almost begged as he finally regained the little senses that were still present in him, the sound of the commotion that surrounded him a bit helpful.

"We need to take her to the hospital." He wiped the sweat off his forehead and tears off his cheeks, finally getting up from the ground in an attempt that proved to be too difficult.

Once standing up straight, he looked down and saw Safaa tending to hismother, lines of worry creasing her forehead. However she looked much calmer than he did, and in that moment, Ibrahim envied doctors who could maintain their calm in such horrifying conditions, and in that moment he thanked God too that he never became one.

He saw with grieved eyes as Safaa performed minor examinations on their mother. Ibrahim looked at her, at the fear that rested on her face and panic that flooded her eyes but her composure and strength, and that only increased the pain that physically crushed his heart right now.

"The driver is running, stop the car!" Some man from the crowd shouted and Ibrahim's attention momentarily shifted towards the car that was speeding past the gathered people.

With wide eyes that held anger and rage in the irises, Ibrahim just glared at the car with every inch of his fiber filled with raw hatred. The car finally found a way through the mass of people, speeding away as fast at it could.

"Stop the car." A woman yelled.

"Note the number." Some men shouted.

Ibrahim did none, just stared at the car for no more than a second before his attention went back to his hurting mother, who struggled hard to keep her eyes open. He had more important matter on the hand.

"Do I call the ambulance or we take her there ourselves?" Safaa looked up at her brother and asked hurriedly, worry filling her voice and dread her tone.

"Ambulance will take time." Ibrahim hurriedly calculated, horror engulfing him as each second ticked by.

"Too much blood is lost, Abi. Bring the damn car from the parking then. Quickly." Safaa shouted as she placed a steady hand on their mother's forehead, trying in vain to stop the flowing blood.

Without saying a word, Ibrahim rushed towards the other side of the road, careful not to glance down at the woman that struggled to breathe in the arms of her younger daughter, for he knew that one look down and he would lose his sanity all over again.

"Why didn't you stop the damn car?" Someone yelled from behind, and Ibrahim closed his for a fraction of second before hurrying past the road.

He didn't need to note down the number or stop the car to know who the driver was. After all, the white Corolla had been in his memory for quite a time now.

|¤¤¤|

12:35pm

The light had never felt more dark; the noise never more silent.

The white corridors were closing in on him, their contaminated air choking his windpipe. The fresh, afternoon rays of sunlight that streaked in through the tainted windows had never been more suffocating and Ibrahim Yazdani knew he was inches away from death.

Ibrahim was pacing the length of large, illuminated corridors of operation ward, his every step adding more to the burden that already tormented his heart, making it break into countless pieces - all aching.

"Ibrahim! Safaa!" The worried voice of Mustafa reached Ibrahim and his eyes instantly traveled the length of a few meters, seeing the two men rushing towards him with concern etched on their faces.

"Abbu!" Safaa didn't waste a second as she rushed towards Ibrahim's father who looked equally distraught as his elder son, his eyes all the shades of worry as Safaa went into his arms.

Mustafa stopped right before Ibrahim, his hands finding Ibrahim's shoulders and his eyes the small, brown ones with hint of gold as they desperately searched for an explanation, a sympathy, a news; anything, right now, would do. Unfortunately, Ibrahim had none and he only bit his lip, trying to control the emotions that threatened to explode.

"What happened? Is everything alright?" Abbu came forward, his voice much calmer than Mustafa's but the concern matched that of his elder son.

When Ibrahim didn't reply and continued looking at his father with nothing but helplessness, Morad Yazdani knew nothing was fine. The way his younger son clenched his teeth and the storms of agitation that swirled through the brown orbs of his told him many things.

"Abi, god damnit, tell us. What the hell happened?" Mustafa was shouting and that did nothing to lessen the burden on Ibrahim's heart - it only intensified it,

"Mustafa." His father warned but Mustafa didn't even gaze at him, his eyes fixed on his younger brother who continued looking down, refusing to meet the eyes of his brother.

"She's in a critical condition, she lost a lot of blood on her way over here. We can only pray." Ibrahim's voice croaked as he informed.

Mustafa's grip on Ibrahim's shoulder instantly loosened, his eyes wide in horror as his arms came to fall beside him. Closing his eyes in utter pain, he took a step back, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the door that had his mother on other side of it.

"Where's she?" Abbu questioned, the lines of worry on his face only increasing with each passing second.

"ICU." Ibrahim answered, his voice no more than a whisper.

"How the hell did it happen? What good were the two of you if you couldn't look after her?" Mustafa shouted as he glared at his younger brother, his eyes bloodshot.

"Trust me, Ibrahim, if anything happens to her, I'm never, ever forgiving you." Mustafa continued, with same anger and helplessness lacing his voice that Ibrahim had a few moments ago.

"Do you think you're the only one who care about her? Do you think you're the only one who is in pain right now?" Ibrahim yelled back with clenched teeth, hardly able to control the sudden anger that shot through him.

He had been in a living hell for the past one hour, thorns picking at his heart with every breath he took, his each beat filled with nothing but regret, pain and helplessness. Listening to Mustafa was an added torture, and honestly, he had no energy left in him to cope with it.

"Boys, behave! We're in a hospital." The father suddenly came between them, glaring at both the brothers who looked at each other with anger; but pain, they knew, was mutual.

Ibrahim was the first to react; closing his eyes momentarily and inhaling a sharp breath, he took a step back, turning to gaze instead at the door of the operation theater. Ibrahim had never felt more helpless in his entire life, not even when the present situations were reversed. He felt like a limbless man abandoned at the sea who couldn't help himself as the waves crashed against him, his every breath nearing him to the end.

"How did it happen, Abi?" His father questioned, more sympathetic and patient than his son who was now leaning against the wall, Safaa beside him.

"I don't know, Abbu. I seriously don't know. One minute I was crossing the road after having asked her to stay where she was and the next, I heard her scream." Ibrahim lost his voice at the end, his lips coming to press against each other tightly.

"Maybe she didn't hear you when you asked her to stop." Mustafa came to stand besides them again, this time his voice calmer than before.

"I think so too." Ibrahim sighed, inhaling a deep breath as the scenes of the past replayed in his mind.

"Yes, I was talking to Abi, and Ammu was walking in front of us. I didn't pay much attention when Abi went ahead to cross the road and Ammu followed him. I thought she was standing beside us." Safaa told in a whisper.

Safaa's cheeks were stained with tears and Ibrahim could see that she was doing much effort to keep the fresh ones at bay. Sprawling a hand around her shoulders, he pulled her to his side who hid her face in Ibrahim's chest with a sob.

"I'm so sorry, Abi." Her tears melted in his black shirt that carried streaks of blood, sweat and tears, but no one was in their right senses in that moment to care.

A few moments dragged by with speed of a turtle, and finally, the door to the operation theater opened and out walked a doctor, a young man in his twenties, probably the senior doctor's assistant. Snatching the green mask away from his face, he eyed the four people cautiously. In a beat, all of them were circling him, looking at him with hope-studded eyes as fear crawled their hearts.

"Mrs. Yazdani is still in a critical condition. Her B.P isn't stable, she suffered from a head injury, probably when she fell, and because of the extreme blood loss, she can suffer from heart attack or maybe even coma." The doctor informed them, professional sadness in his voice as he attended to the patient's family. "All you can do is pray, she needs it."

And with that, the walls closed in on them and none of them seemed to breathe.

But breathe was necessary and it first came back to Safaa who stumbled but Mustafa was quick to get a hold of her. Ibrahim lowered his head slowly, in sheer pain, and Abbu only rested his hand against the wall for support. Everyone's condition was similar, everyone radiated pain, one that filled the corridor they housed.

All of this was his bloody fault.

He should have made sure Ammu listened to him, he should have never left her hand, he should have stayed by her, he should have taken care of her. So many should haves attacked his heart, and suddenly, it was too difficult to breathe.

"Dr. Hamdan, you're being called back inside. The patient's heartbeat is slowing down." The nurse hurried out of the room like a storm, filling their lives with it in the process.

Within a beat, the doctor rushed back inside, taking their beats and breaths along with him and Ibrahim saw his father falling on the bench, coming to look much older in these past few minutes.

"Mustata, ask the doctor to make her okay...they can't give up, they have to make her fine. I've lost my mother once, I can't lose her again. Please." Safaa placed her hand on Mustafa's, who sat in front of her on his knees, and cried, cried as no one has ever cried before and Ibrahim couldn't look at the sight anymore.

"Abi, it's not your fault. Please, don't stress yourself like this." Abbu said after a while and Ibrahim turned around to see all of them now looking at him with nothing but pain, ache, but most importantly, understanding.

"Yes, it's not your fault. You walked behind her for two hours, holding her bags like some chauffeur, never once complaining." Safaa laughed at the end as fresh tears fell from her face, "It's not because of you that she's in this condition."

Ibrahim didn't believe them and as his eyes flickered towards Mustafa with fear; he anticipated the worst. But Mustafa only smiled sadly as he stood up from the ground, and Ibrahim felt relieved for an instant, but in his heart, he knew that all of this was majorly his fault.

"We have to inform the police." Mustafa said after a while, his eyes still slightly wide in sheer horror and utter helplessness.

"Yes, it was a hit-and-run. We have to catch the driver." Safaa said after a while, her voice low.

"No, we don't. We're not involving police in this." Ibrahim said, out of nowhere, a determined, hard voice that made even his father look up at him.

"We have to. We can't let the bloody driver get away." Mustafa walked towards Ibrahim who was looking past him at the window behind, the afternoon rays coming to hit his face gently.

"And you didn't even note down the number. We have to inform the police." Safaa intervened but Ibrahim shook his head, resolve coming to settle in his eyes.

"I said I'll handle this matter on my own, and I will. No police will be involved and besides, they'll only add to our pain by questioning Ammu if she..when she gets fine." Ibrahim's words faltered at the end as a searing pain passed through him.

"He's right. Let him handle it the way he wants." Abbu interfered, still sitting on the bench as he observed his children.

"But Abbu..." Safaa began but was quickly silenced when Abbu shot her a look.

"No, Safaa. I trust Ibrahim. Let him do whatever he wants." Abbu finished the conversation by looking away, a gesture that no more discussion on this topic was allowed.

Ibrahim looked away, his mind swirling with thoughts and possibilities when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. It was Mustafa, looking at Ibrahim with worry, now for an entirely different reason.

"Don't do anything stupid." He whispered, almost warned and Ibrahim stared at his brother with emptiness in his irises before taking a slow step back.

"I can't promise." Ibrahim said with voice that chilled Mustafa's spine, before walking past Mustafa with gait of a determined but fallen warrior.

Sitting beside his father on the bench, he tipped his head back and rested it flat against the cemented wall, his eyes closing and lashes fanning a shadow over the aristocratic cheeks. The dark stubble that covered his jaws looked much rougher than the previous day, the thick hair falling on the forehead, messily.

When darkness was all he could see around him, different shades of brown flashed before the closed lids and Ibrahim Yazdani snapped his eyes open - in pain, in anger, in hatred.

|¤¤¤|

10:21pm

The gates of the sky were thrown open as rain poured heavily outside, the black scenery engulfing the lights that beautified the city of Abbottabad. With trees that shook under the intensity of clear water that fell, and people that ran to find shelter due to heavinessof rain, motion was all around.

Except, however, in a dark room at the first floor of a mansion, whose balcony door was wide open as a lone man stood in the rain, his eyes hollow and unfocused as he stared ahead at the vastness of nothingness.

Standing firm on the cold, marble floor, Ibrahim Yazdani had his strong palms fixed around the metal railing while bending slightly, his jaws tightened as he gazed outside without much looking. With small hair that covered the front of his arms flat in the rain and veins throbbing at the back as he held the metal tightly, Ibrahim's posture was rigid.

And it had been same since the past one hour.

Standing beneath the cloudy sky that had no sign of stars, still wearing the black button-up shirt that was stained with his mother's blood and Safaa's tears, he found cold seeping in his bones but he had little care. The voluminous lashes colliding with each as he blinked, and the sky-colored hair fell intricately on the forehead while the brown in his eyes darkening as night slowly ticked by.

Despite the emptiness that had come to be a permanence in his brown eyes, his mind held emotions - emotions so strong and deep, he could practically feel himself drowning under the weight of it. Memories of the past few hours replayed on the screen of his mind and he felt darkness closing in on him as new ones flashed one after the other.

His mother was still not completely stable, as of yet, and still under critical examination. Due to major blood loss, she had suffered from hemorrhagic shock, and minor myocardial infarction due to her being a heart patient already, that further complicated her case. Her vital signs were still not completely stable and consciousness had not once greeted her once in 12 hours.

Safaa, who insisted on staying with Ammu at the hospital for the night, sent everyone back home after Ammu's condition was declared a bit fine, which was only three hours earlier. Everyone, knowing that Safaa was much more useful to Ammu than all of them in such condition, left without any argument, especially Ibrahim who felt suffocated as he eyed the OT door with sheer pain and horror gripping him as each second went by.

Ever since returning back home, he has locked himself in his room; too afraid to face his family after all that has happened in a span of few hours, all because he couldn't do one job that was entrusted to him - look after his mother.

Despite everything that everyone said to him; despite the constant reassurances by everyone that he wasn't at fault here; despite been given hope that his mother would be fine; despite everything, he still blamed himself. None of anything would have happened if he was paying attention to his mother instead of focusing on how to cross the damned road. None.

But no, there was one more person who was more to be blamed in this scenario than Ibrahim himself and that happened to be the only woman on this planet who had enough valour to impress him, not by the looks that he was sure could slice deeper than the knife, but the personality that rendered a man like Ibrahim completely speechless for a moment.

But God, did he hate her at this moment.

And her personality, which he had so easily fallen charms for a mere few days ago looked horrible after the accident that tilted his entire foundation of existence. Had it not been a hit-and-run and she had actually stopped to spare a glance at the woman she had crushed with her car, he would have found the courage in himself to actually forgive her, although with difficulty but absolutely.

But the truth was anything but and he hated himself for ever even thinking that the woman's personality and charisma was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen in his life. He should have believed the first version of hers that he was unfortunate to see, not the second one.

The second one was a trap, he should have known it from the start.

No human being, even those who had the slightest shades of humanity left in them, could hit another being and then run away to save their own lives. Such people's inhumanity is what the world wails about and these kind of people are the reason the world is in shreds right now.

Such beings were selfish and he knew it in heart that selfishness and beautiful personality can not go together.

A repeated sound awoke him from his reverie with a shake, his eyes gaining the focus they had lost about an hour ago. Blinking rapidly, he straightened instantly, an action that sent a searing pain running the length of his spine. Hissing in pain, he placed his hands on either side of his waist, and after doing some exercises here and there, went inside the room, not caring that he was completely drenched.

Ibrahim entered the white and blue painted room that was furnished simply with four poster bed, single-seater sofas on the side, and a wooden table that housed more drawers than any other, going straight for the night stand where his mobile phone was vibrating, indicating a call.

"Ali?" Ibrahim muttered the name of one of his closest friends.

"Yes, I'm sorry I couldn't reach you before. I was out for patrolling." Ali apologized on the other side of the line but his apologies were the last thing Ibrahim needed from him.

Ali was a commissioned Police Officer, posted in Abbottabad these days and his help was all Ibrahim relied on at this very moment.

"Yeah, I guessed." Ibrahim replied, tension never once leaving his face as water dripped down from his clothes and created a pool around him.

"Is everything fine? Your voice seems a bit off." Ali's confused voice made Ibrahim take in a deep breath before he continued.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I'll tell you later. I just needed a favour from you right now." Ibrahim came clean and heard a chuckle at the other side.

"Mr. Yazdani calls me after days of silence to ask for a favour?" Ali laughed and Ibrahim couldn't help contain the smile that curved his lips.

"Don't exaggerate, Ali. We all know who's the busy one here." Ibrahim said, the corner of his eyes crinkling infinitesimally.

"Definitely not me." Ali remarked from the other side and Ibrahim let out a hollow chuckle.

"Anyways, coming back to topic. What do you need?" Ali asked after a moment and Ibrahim's gulped heavily before continuing.

"You once told me about your friend in the intelligence, didn't you? A private investigator?" Ibrahim began and he definitely heard Ali stopping short at the other side of the line.

"Yeah?" Ali's confused reply came a moment later, "You need to find information about someone?"

Ibrahim sighed at how right and wrong Ali was.

"Yeah, can you do that?" Ibrahim's voice held hope, but the stab in his heart deepened with each uttered word.

"Yeah, it's a piece of cake. I can ask someone in my department to do that, you don't need to hire a private investigator." Ali's thoughtful reply made relief fall on Ibrahim's handsome, rough face.

"But whose information do you need? And you're calling me at this time, on a Saturday, so it must be someone important." Ali mused, sounding genuinely curious and Ibrahim could feel his friend's sharp eyes glistening.

"Yes, very important." Ibrahim didn't give much away as he came to stand besides the closed window, seeing the droplets that fell down in a race that nobody could win.

"Okay, tell me then. Who is it I'm going to look in for?" Ali asked, curious but not letting it show and Ibrahim drew in a deep breath.

"There's a girl named Humna. I don't know anything about her, but I know the car she drives; I'll send you its number. You can find the information, right?" Ibrahim asked at the end, frowning at only the little information that he had about the woman.

"Yeah, if the car is registered on her name, it'll be fine." Ali's quick reply came and Ibrahim sighed in relief, knowing that even if his friend was surprised at the mention of a woman's name, he didn't show it.

"Perfect." Ibrahim's hearty gratitude came, followed by a laughter from the other side.

"That's it?" Ali asked after Ibrahim had messaged him the number of the car.

"Yeah, that's it." Ibrahim said, relief and regret passing through him at the same time.

"Tomorrow is Sunday so I'll probably email you the report on Monday evening. That's okay?" Ali asked.

"Yeah, I can wait for that while. Don't make it anymore late though." Ibrahim felt obliged to add at the end, earning a laugh from Ali at the other end.

"Sure, okay. I have to hang up now." Ali said and Ibrahim nodded quickly.

"Bye." Ibrahim replied with a pressed smile.

Relief, pure and simple, washed through him and he exhaled a deep breath as he closed his eyes. However, before the call was disconnected, a sudden thought occurred to him and his eyes snapped open.

"Ali?" Ibrahim quickly yelled, hoping that Ali was still on the line.

"Yeah?" He gladly was.

"I need information on some other person too." Ibrahim said, much too quickly than he should have and heard Ali's roar of laughter on the other side.

"I think you should decide first." Ali said in between the laughs and Ibrahim's brows creased as lines of agitation decorated his forehead.

"Who, by the way?" He asked after his laughter had ceased and Ibrahim inhaled a deep breath before answering.

"Hemayal Khakwani."

|¤¤¤|

Here it is, guys.

Do tell me what you think Ibrahim is going to do. And how does he know Hemayal? Don't forget to vote and comment!

Till next time,
Salam!