که عشق آسان نمود اول ولی افتاد مشکل‌ها
For love seemed easy at first, but then came difficulties

Sunday - 12:31pm

Five days.

Five days since the death of her grandfather, five days of immeasurable nightmares, five days of haunting memories, five days of absolute regrets and five days of unparalleled pain.

And as each day blended into night, the emotions grew intense - the pain multiplying, the happiness dividing. Every night was a night of newfound misery and terrifying dream, every breath only a burden to the already crushed heart.

How she had managed to live through the week was beyond her, how she was even alive was a mystery to her. Maybe people were right when they said that nobody dies for a person, but why had they then refused to acknowledge that maybe life doesn't stop for anyone but the desire to live it vanishes absolutely, and with that the sense of that beautiful emotion that goes by the name of hope.

And Hemayal Khakwani knew well enough that hope, in any form or colour, is substantial for making the heart beat.

And after the death of her Dadu, she still breathed, she still ate, she did all the things she did before - except live. The art of living was forgotten by her, hidden and concealed in layers of satin and dust. How one lives in difficult times, how one stands up after a fall, how one keeps the head straight even after a blow - these were the lessons she had been taught by her grandfather, these were the lessons she had forgotten as soon as he had finally slept under layers of earth.

"Hami? You are going somewhere?" Mehmal asked as she stepped inside the room, the door of which was already open, making Hemayal's eyes gain focus and turn towards her.

"Yes. Back." Hemayal replied slowly, resuming the packing she had paused a few moments before.

"Why?" Mehmal sounded incredulous as she asked.

"Why not?" Hemayal cast a sideways glance, not taking her concentration off the packing for even a second however.

"You had two weeks off." Mehmal stated in an exasperated tone, catching Hemayal by the arm and distancing her from the suitcase spread before them on the bed.

"And two weeks are over, Mehmal." Hemayal reminded her cousin with a small smile.

"Really?" Mehmal could not believe the speed with which the previous two weeks had passed.

"Yes." Hemayal patted Mehmal's hand from her free one before taking the other one from her hold, attention once again turning back to the suitcase.

"Don't go, Hami. Stay for a few more days." Mehmal pleaded and a sad smile touched Hemayal's face, making her turn her head towards Mehmal for a split second before resuming her work.

"I have to go back one day, Mehmal. It is better if I go back and continue my work now, it will distract my mind." Hemayal never talked without reason and this time too, she had reason, a reason so solid that it rendered Mehmal completely silence for a while.

"I understand, but don't you think it will only add to your troubles and problems by absorbing yourself in work right now?" Hemayal observed Mehmal's words, thinking of how cautiously and beautifully she tried to persuade her.

"Work is the best healer, Mehmal." Hemayal answered, a depth of an ocean settled in her soul.

"But going out in the war when the previous wounds have not healed yet is absurdity, is it not?" Mehmal questioned, their conversation scratching layers of hidden words and meaning.

"No, it is a way of healing. If I sit back and wait for my wounds to heal, trust me, they never will." Hemayal responded with a mountain of experience coming to rest in her voice.

She had dealt with enough heartbreaks and pains in the world that she knew well enough what healed the wounds and what tore them apart. And she knew for a fact that stoicism ruins while the motion heals; she knew that at the end, it is not the contemplation that help you overcome pain in your broken heart, it is acceptance. And for that, she needed to get back to her life, however much it cost her.

"But you need to give yourself some time, Hami. The practical world is demanding and in this way, you will only be forgetting your wounds, not healing them." Mehmal sounded absolutely concerned as she spoke, voice turning bothered as she uttered words.

"Right now, forgetfulness is bliss. It will take months, or maybe even years, before I begin to accept this painful reality. Until then, I need to forget it, forget it in a way that it won't come to haunt me in broad day light. I need to breathe, Mehmal." Hemayal responded, sounding absolutely broken as she voiced her chaotic thoughts.

"I understand, but I think you will have to talk to Taya Abbu too about it." Mehmal said, lips pressing in a thin line.

"What is there to talk?" Hemayal's hands suddenly halted, the packing discontinued, as she turned towards Mehmal, face masking incredulity.

"Well, he said to Baba that you will stay here until they find the men who kidnapped you." Mehmal said, lips again coming to press themselves after the words were spoken.

"That is absurd, and who is he to decide where I stay?" Hemayal's brows creased in anger, making her narrow her eyes dangerously.

"Your father." A voice spoke and Hemayal closed her eyes momentarily, praying for patience, before turning towards the door where Shahriyar Khakwani stood, her father.

"When did you come back?" Mehmal asked as Shahriyar Khakwani took a step in the room but stopping a good distance away from both the ladies.

Hemayal's father had gone back to Islamabad few days ago, reason being his business that needed immediate attention, but Hemayal and Hadeed Lala, who still had a few holidays left decided to stay for a few more days. Well, it was basically Hadeed Lala who decided for her too - Hemayal was too far gone at that time to make any decision of her own.

"Just now, and I have heard that you are planning to go back, Hemayal?" Her father said, uttering her name with such lack of emotionalism that it made a shiver slither up her spine.

"Yes, I have packed too." Hemayal replied, gesturing towards the bed that was clustered with clothes but her father did not raise an eye in that direction.

"As Mehmal said, there is no need. You are not going anywhere." He said, face blank and voice impassive.

Hemayal's eye moved between her father and cousin, eyes narrowing thoughtfully before they came to rest on her father.

"Yes, I am." Hemayal said, puncturing her voice with the same impassiveness that rested in her father's voice.

She was naïve to even think for a second that her father will close the distance between them after the death of her Dadu, foolish to believe that he will be her support and barrier after his own father was nowhere around to provide the service. But like always, she had been proved wrong.

But what hurt her more was the heart wrenching fact that a large part of her had expected the same cold shoulder she had always received from him, a part of her had anticipated this all along. After all, after the death of her mother, he had grown apart from her even more, if possible. How can she expect anything good from him now?

And this thought broke her into little more pieces - would she never receive her father's love? Would she never be fortunate enough to experience the love and affection of a father? Would she always be someone who would die before they are blessed with a kind word from their fathers?

And the look in her father's eyes told her that she would.

"And I am saying no." He repeated, eyes narrowing dangerously, but Hemayal had long since been immune to that.

"My holidays have ended." She replied, trying to keep her calm, which was not hard because this was the thing she had practiced and mastered all her life.

"That is not your concern. I will talk to your boss; he will extend your vacation." Shahriyar Khakwani spoke with an air of indifference, not much bothered and Hemayal knew why.

Being one of the most influential businessman of the country, Shahriyar Khakwani did have contacts all around the country - talking her daughter's boss into extending her holidays would not prove to be a laborious task for him. But it definitely was one for Hemayal to digest.

"No, Baba. I do not want an extension in holidays. It is high time I go back and I would appreciate if you would respect that." Hemayal said, all the levels of restrains stabbed in her voice.

"Topic of respect is long gone, my child. It is the matter of your honour that is at stake, and you will stay here until I say. Do you get that?" His voice suddenly bordered order and that was something Hemayal could never take.

"If you are trying to imply that my honour is wounded because I spent a night outside the house, I consider you broaden your mind and if not that, at least try to keep your thoughts to yourself." The patience slipped and nerves triggered as she replied, venomously but calmly, the words of her husband filling her ears.

Just imagine what will happen to your family's honour after this; after their daughter spends a night in the captivity of a stranger.

How unfortunate she was to get such a man for a father who could not take her word and asked for a medical examination; for such a husband who wounded her honour in the eye of the world, making her the culprit instead of the victim. Oh, how ill-fated she was!

"I will, Hemayal, but the world will not." He did not take offence to her harsh words, instead, his voice softened a bit but it only added fuel to Hemayal's rising anger.

"I don't give a shit about the world, Baba; they can go to hell for all I care." Hemayal's voice raised, features hardening, "My family matters and if you guys think that something indeed happened, if you guys can't take my word for it, if you guys don't trust me, I don't know why I'm still even here."

She was not financially dependent on her father, brother or anyone else. Yes, her share in family business earned her quite a few sum and the money his father deposited in her bank account every once in a while accounted for much of her extravagances and lavishness, but she could definitely survive without it. A few million more or less wouldn't hurt her. She earned her money herself and it was sufficient to hold her - head, heart and pride.

But no, it wasn't about money, it never was. It was about her pride and the people she so proudly referred to as family. If they didn't believe her, how the rest of the world will, why they will? Family held the top position in the hierarchy of the priorities she had set for herself and now as they looked at her with disbelief and caution, she wanted to dive in the ocean of death, and with every such thought, her hatred for her man intensified.

"We do trust you, Hemayal, we can take you word for the world, okay?" Mehmal spoke out of nowhere, making both the father and daughter turn towards her but she only had eyes for her sister.

Looking in Mehmal's eyes, a part softened and a part cried. The realization that there still was someone who worried about her, who would believe every word she spoke without a thought, who would always stand by her side was intense and overwhelming altogether, rendering her completely incapable to speak for a moment.

"Some people don't, Mehmal." Hemayal cast a sideways glance in the direction of her father, smiling at Mehmal nonetheless with awe and gratitude.

"The condition you returned in, it speaks otherwise. Your case is not much convincing, Hemayal." He spoke and Hemayal lost every last shred of respect she had for her father, along with the little sanity left in her and snapped.

"The fact that my father can even direct accusations in my direction is beyond me, the fact that my father can't believe my word and asks me to prove my innocence is beyond me, and the fact that my father can side with the world and not his own daughter is beyond me." Hemayal paused for a second, gathering breath after her sudden outburst, heaving deep breaths, eyes wide.

"You say that my case isn't much convincing, right?" She paused again, trying to increase the weight-age of her words, "Well, I don't need to have a convincing case. If you want to believe me, you will have to take my word for it. And if not, with all due respect, Baba, you can go to hell."

Hemayal finished, face ashen and hair falling off the shoulders in loose waves, covering the side of her face after intense movement of mouth and hands, jaws tightened as venom rested in her eyes, and maybe even her soul too.

Shahriyar Khakwani, however, took no notice of her heated speech. Instead, he only shook his head slightly, as if disappointed in his daughter, before clearing his throat but just when he was beginning to express his viewpoint, Hemayal spoke out again.

"And I am going back to Islamabad." She repeated, this time calmly after having restored her composure.

"Fine, do whatever you want. If you want to go back, be my guest. The word isn't out yet, but my rivals who kidnapped you would soon let the world know, so don't come to me when the world contracts for you." He spoke and Hemayal only chuckled inwardly, shaking her head and stepped back a little.

"Even if it does, I won't come crying to you; that I can promise." Hemayal said, knowing that luck was in her favour this time, at least a little bit.

The man who kidnapped her was not her father's rival or even close to that - her father had guessed wrong, and Hemayal had no intention whatsoever to correct him. And above all, she was sure that Ibrahim Yazdani would not tell the world. What made her come to this conclusion, she did not know, but she knew in her heart that it was right. And the two combined would save her from the image her father was picturing in her mind.

"Time will tell, my child." He said before taking a step back and walking out of the room, along with the negative energy his presence had contaminated the room with, at least for Hemayal.

"Hemayal?" Mehmal spoke and Hemayal turned her direction towards her, eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Don't you think he is right? I mean if the word gets out once, it will be difficult to stop it. And you'll be in quite a trouble if it does." Mehmal began, cautious of Hemayal's anger that was always ready to melt these days.

"It won't get out, Mehmal, not unless any of you go out and tell the press. Other than that, there is no way." Hemayal smiled in her direction, a troubled and wounded smile, "I hope none of you would do that?"

If she could not trust her own father, there was no one else in the world she could trust. And besides, the world had given her enough reasons to have trust issues, to doubt people even when they have good intentions in their heart. But she knew she was right.

Had the incident of her husband kidnapping her not enough a proof that no one deserves trust?

Had the accusations of her own father not enough a reason to doubt people?

"Are you mad, Hami? Of course we wouldn't. You can trust us." Mehmal said, at the verge of desperation and Hemayal smiled.

"Trust is a vast word, Mehmal, and honestly, not everyone lives up to it." Hemayal sighed before turning her attention back to the packing she had left earlier.

"Not even one's family?" Mehmal questioned, sad and worried.

"Especially one's family. And you know why?" Hemayal paused for a second, looking in Mehmal's direction for a second, "Because we expect the most from them. When they say expectations hurt, they say it right."

"Just because Taya Abbu..." Mehmal had only begun when Hemayal silenced her.

"He might be Taya Abbu for you, but for me, he is my father, one man I expect to always stand beside me, no matter what." Hemayal added forcefully.

"Except for him, everyone believes you, Hemayal. You can't label everyone like that." Mehmal tended to Hemayal softly, knowing the storm that resided in her and the intensity of it.

"Are you sure?" Hemayal asked, throwing a sad smile in Mehmal's direction along the process.

"Yes, I..." Hemayal again cut her off in mid-sentence.

"I heard Darakshan Chachi talking to you, Mehmal." Hemayal said slowly, effectively silencing Mehmal for a long time now.

"Hemayal...it was nothing." Mehmal spoke after a long moment.

"It was everything, Mehmal. She does not believe me; she thinks I am not pure anymore to be around you. She thinks I'll taint you with the dirt that envelops me." Hemayal added, emotions coming to rest in her voice, rendering her voice hoarse as she spoke.

She was close to tears, she knew it, and she should stop talking now. But she had been quiet for too long now. If remained such anymore, she was sure to combust, and nothing else would remain of her except the ashes of a woman who bore too much pain in her heart, who wanted to live life to the fullest but it always found some way to drop her to her wounded knees.

"Hemayal, did you not hear what I replied?" Mehmal asked, voice turning desperate.

"Yes, I did, and I swear to God, I had not heard such a beautiful thing in a long time. Your belief in me moved me, Mehmal, it made me cry but it all comes down to the fact that some people in my family don't believe in me. How can I then trust anyone else, Mehmal?" Hemayal felt tears sliding down her cheeks, one she had been holding in for a little too long.

Mehmal walked forward and carefully wrapped her arms around Hemayal, silent prevalent around them as both ladies cried softly. Hemayal buried her face in her hands while resting them against Mehmal's neck, crying with every fiber of her being. Too many years had been filled inside of her, for too long and they did nothing but increased the burden of her heart, which was already burning.

"It is okay, Hemayal. It will be okay." Mehmal shushed and Hemayal wiped her tears slowly before pulling back, face scarlet, the wounds healed now.

"When, Mehmal, when?" She asked, biting her lips, trying to keep the new bout of tears at bay.

"It will take time, Hami. Days, months or maybe even years, but everything will fall back in its place at the end. Please believe that." Mehmal almost pleaded at the end and Hemayal nodded, although she had little belief in that, but nevertheless, one could hope.

"And we trust you, Hemayal. I, Hadeed Lala, Anisha Bhabhi - we all trust you. It doesn't matter if some people don't, because you are much more than the approval of people. You are Hemayal, the strong sister I'm so fortunate to have, the one who doesn't fall no matter how many times life ruptures her wings." Mehmal said and Hemayal smiled, eyes turning glassy as her words danced her eardrums in absolute perfection.

Not knowing what to response, Hemayal only nodded, a small, genuine smile lifting the curves of her lips before taking a step forwards and embracing Mehmal momentarily.

"I'll miss you in Islamabad." Hemayal said, stepping back with a beautiful smile raising the cheekbones.

"Well, I hope you do." Mehmal said and a small laughter left Hemayal's lips in beautiful colours.

After all the heartache, she desperately needed it.

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Sunday - 5:21pm

The day was coming to an end slowly, the winter night taking over the sky, sprawling its winds ever so beautifully all over the city. With faint streaks of light lit all over the mountain, adding nothing but grandeur and magnificence to the scenic city of Abbottabad, it was the one of the finest of sights tonight. Everybody soaked themselves in the damped beauty the city provided tonight, a faint drizzle spraying the paved roads.

Inside the Yazdani House, however, it was chaos.

The voices of different members of the household rose in the air together, creating a hustle no one seemed to mind. The comfortable lounge was occupied by the inhabitants of the house, all seated leisurely on a Sunday evening as they chatted loudly, including the mother and father of the house.

The cricket match being played on the massive television secured on the wall, however, accounted for most of the noise; the rest was all shouting and cheers by almost everyone, except for Ammu and Safaa who were engaged in their own conversations. It was Pakistan vs. India and all three men of the house had decided to spend their Sunday in this beautiful way - after all, what was more engrossing than a good match between the two neighbours?

"God, make runs, you fool!" Mustafa shouted in not-so-manly- manner, earning nods of approval and chuckles from everyone.

"Mustafa, calm down. They can't hear you." Safaa said, glaring at her cousin who was a little too sensitive when it came to cricket matches; Pakistan vs. India was a different level of that anyway.

"We are not winning this." Abbu said, leaning back against the leather sofa as he sipped his coffee.

"Abbu, positive energy; that is what we talked about, right?" Ibrahim turned towards his father and narrowed eyes in his direction, always optimistic when it came to these things.

"Your Abbu is right, we need a lot of runs on the scoreboard, and right now, it is not happening." Ammu said as she drank her own herbal tea, smiling as she watched her husband and children arguing over a topic that wasn't going anywhere.

"Mahwash, you just got up from the sick bed. You want to go there again?" Abbu joked as he eyed his two sons who had turned to glare at their mother after her words.

"Just stating the obvious." She held her hands in front of her before laughing slowly, resuming her conversation with Safaa only a moment later.

The sudden loud cheer that erupted in the room made Ammu's hand reach for her heart, along with Safaa's whose eyes widened. All three Yazdani men cheered over a six, and all two ladies glared at them, mouth still gaped open.

"Get a life, you all. Does it look good on grown up men like you all to shout this loudly?" Safaa breathed as she spoke - the cheer had been a little too loud.

"Ahh, Safaa, even you don't look irritating right now." Mustafa sighed, sagging his shoulders as his eyes moved between his cousin and TV that now housed commercials.

"You all have basically ruined your Sunday." Ammu said, shaking her head.

"Technically, Ammu, we haven't. We are on holidays, so it is a win-win." Ibrahim shrugged his shoulders as he laughed a little, not knowing that these laughs were going to be his lasts in a long time.

"Although your husband has." Mustafa completed Ibrahim's words and a loud laughter erupted in the room.

"You two are impossible." Abbu said, laughing gracefully in his place.

Their attention, after a moment, again went back to the screen, eyes narrowed in concentration as they savoured every little detail they could of the match. Chatting, however, went on and so did occasional laughter. These, however, were interrupted only when Ibrahim's phone placed on the central table vibrated, making him attend it without looking at the caller ID; eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Hello." Ali's voice came from the other side, although it was lower than what could naturally stimulate his hearing receptors, making him raise his hand in the air, gesturing everyone to keep silence for a moment.

"Hello, Ali. How are you?" Ibrahim asked, eyes still glued to the screen that was now muted.

"I'm fine, Abi. You?" Ali asked.

"Well, fine." Ibrahim replied.

"Where are you?" Ali asked and before Ibrahim could reply, Mustafa cheered from his side, making Ibrahim cast a glare in his direction before standing up from his seat, tugging the blanket away from him as he did.

"Home, I guess. Was that Mustafa?" Ali's laughter from the other side sprawled one on Ibrahim's face too as he exited the room, coming to stand by the glass window that displayed the scenic view of their lush lawn.

"Yes, Mustafa." Ibrahim answered with a chuckle, eyes moving over the dark blue sky that was sprawled outside.

"Can we meet tonight, for dinner?" Ali asked and Ibrahim only creased his brows thoughtfully.

"I'm actually going back tomorrow morning so tonight we all are going out for family dinner." Ibrahim said as he scratched the base of his neck, head lowered as he talked, "What is it though?"

Ibrahim sensed the worry and confusion in Ali's tone, a stimulus for the question he asked. Ali, however, silenced for a second on the other side before continuing.

"It is important, I think. It is about the women you asked information of. And I thought we could sit down and have dinner. It has been such a long time, after all." Ali said, making Ibrahim instantly straighten in his place at the mention of the two women - Hemayal and Humna.

What could possibly arise now after everything is done and dusted? What important information is left that he is oblivious of? Was there something he did not know - a secret he had not been made privy to; an information he was careless to ignore?

"What happened, Ali?" Ibrahim asked, voice turning husky and low as he asked, dread sinking his stomach.

"Well, it is a long thing and I can't explain it to you over the phone. So, can we meet?" Ali asked and Ibrahim could picture the crease of his eyebrows and tension on his face without even looking.

"Yes, yes. We can. Not for dinner though, but can we meet now? We can talk over coffee." Ibrahim suggested, passing fingers through the already ruffled hair, the action adding roughness to his attire, an alibi of his worried state.

"Sure, around six?" Ali suggested and Ibrahim nodded, too far gone to register that the man could not see him.

"Yes, six is fine." Ibrahim said before hanging up, head straightening as he looked ahead at the vastness of the lawn that was sprawled before him.

Tension and worry found refuge in him at the mention of the topic Ibrahim had been running from for the past few days - a woman he had kidnapped; a woman who was his wife. Both did not settle well with him, rendering his mind incapable to process for a while whenever the topic came up. Ironically, it was not his wife but the woman he had kidnapped who occupied the major part of his mind - being with him from dusk till dawn.

After Ammu had restored her health and was discharged, after Ibrahim's anger had liquefied, after things had come to hit him back, after he had thought of his actions over and over again - he had come to only a single conclusion:

He was wrong.

Wrong, so utterly wrong in so many ways.

Yes, he wanted revenge but there were other ways for that too; what did he achieve after taking law into his own hands? He could have reported, used all of his contacts to find the culprit, done everything in his power to make her pay. But he got blinded by anger and revenge, forgetting completely that he has a mother, a sister, a wife. After all, he would not be much pleased if anyone did that to them, would he?

But then again, the thought that he did everything for his mother, that he got his revenge, in whatever way, eased his burning heart a little - he had a reason behind his actions, however sick it might be, he did everything for his mother. His ways were venomous, his words cold, actions terrible but he had a mother fighting for her life - what else could he have done?

A small voice from the lounge brought him back from a spiral tread down to the deepest part of his heart, making him shake his head infinitesimally before turning around on his heels and walking back inside, encountering everyone in the same position he had left them in.

"I have to go out." Ibrahim announced as he entered the room, making everyone turn their heads towards him.

"With Ali?" Abbu asked and Ibrahim nodded slowly.

"But we have to go out for dinner tonight." Safaa groaned from her place.

"You promised you will watch the match with me." Another groan came from Mustafa's direction.

"We were going to watch the photo albums." Ammu's groan too came a moment later.

"I'll come back before then." Ibrahim answered Safaa's question before turning to that of Mustafa's, "Well, as for my promise, I will make it up to you some other time. I really have to go, it is important."

"And what album, Ammu?" Ibrahim questioned as he turned towards his mother.

"There is a carton full of albums upside. We thought we could see it, you know, reminiscence old memories." Safaa said and Ibrahim laughed slightly.

"I'll see it when I come back. We have all night." Ibrahim said, now looking at his mother who slowly nodded her head.

"Fine, child. Drive safely and return back before dinner." Ammu said and Ibrahim turned back again after saying farewell, walking straight to his room to dress up.

For a heavy night that was surely awaiting him ahead, he needed to have his weapons out and all in order. His happened to be denim jeans, button-up shirt and a jacket, complemented with boots and Rolex watch clasped around his wrist. He emitted exuberance and class as he exited the house, palm coiled around the phone, wallet and keys.

Slipping behind the wheels of his Mercedes Benz, he reversed the car from the long driveway without inserting the GPS - he knew the roads of this city much better than any navigation system. A moment later, the refined car ran along the roads, headed towards a destination he did not know what would bring him.

A few minutes on the road, the old, classical songs being played in the car as he became a part of the dark and expressive night that was spreading before his very eyes. The blue hues were darkening as the car sped, the sky a canvas of black and navy - a sight beautiful like many he had seen before, the light drizzle only adding shades of colours to the scenery.

Parking the car outside the coffee shop, he exited it with class of a man he was well famous for, not knowing that all of these were going to crumble down in the next few minutes, or maybe even hours' never to slide up back again with ease.

"Hello!" He spotted Ali just as he entered the interior of the shop, eyes taking in a man who looked every bit of a Police Officer in his neat and well-clipped attire.

"Hello, Abi." Ali stood up, coming to stand before him before a brief hug was exchanged between the two old friends.

"It has been such a long ass time." Ali exclaimed and Ibrahim only laughed while nodding his head, taking his seat in front of Ali.

"Tea?" Ali asked, smiling as he hinted towards Ibrahim's love for tea.

"Of course." Ibrahim smiled along; his insides, however, were tightening in knot.

"Tell me already, Ali. What is the matter?" Ibrahim, after a moment, could not keep his words in check, his patience slipping by with each breath he took.

"Well, the thing is, after I sent you the information, I dug a little bit deeper into the two women." Ali began in a slow voice after placing the order, "We looked for the information you asked in quite a hurry and I thought we could miss something important, so I personally worked to find more about the two women."

Ibrahim's stomach dropped as he listened closely to what Ali spoke, dreading what future held for him, knowing that it would not be anything good.

"And?" Ibrahim asked after Ali had remained silent for a little too long, his patience ending.

"It took some days, and the full reports came only today. I brought them with me and you can have a look later on, but there were some things in there that confused me." Ali still did not disclose the main reason and Ibrahim's impatience only heightened.

"That is why I called you here; I thought you would want to know the intriguing details." Ali said and Ibrahim could physically feel his throat turning dry, thorns growing in them as he looked along.

"What intriguing details, Ali?" Ibrahim released the voice caught in his throat.

"The two women seem to have a connection, Abi."

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Hello, you guys!

I hope you enjoyed this long update. What do you think is going to happen? Is Ibrahim close to the truth?

Do vote and comment!

Till next time,
Salam!