"Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends."
- Hafiz

Monday - 2:21am

Everything made perfect sense.

Absolute sophistication in absolute ways and everything had so easily fallen back in its place; all the missing pieces of puzzle had come together to a flawless realization; all the threads of chaos untying them in the midst of his mind.

But the cost he paid to come to this final realization was heavy, almost equal to the earth and all its inhabitants combined. The cost he paid was the peace of his heart, the sanity of his mind and above all, the woman the world knew as his. Hemayal Khakwani was Ibrahim Yazdani's - it was a fact inscribed in the lines of their palms, but right now, he did not know.

The realization and revelation had come as a blow; a final one amongst all the layers of confusions that meddled with his mind, surrounded him from ever single inch. Not a hundred thousand years would have been enough to prepare him for the bomb that was blown right above his head, sucking the living breath out of him as it did.

Hemayal Khakwani was the woman he kidnapped, his wife, and Ibrahim swore to God nothing in his life had ever made him feel so helpless, not even the accident of his mother. His mother's accident was largely his fault, but even then, nobody blamed him because it was irrevocable and accidental. But this action, this was entirely and majorly his fault. It was the consequence of his anger and pain and he knew that this time, nobody would forgive him, especially his wife.

Today is your day, Ibrahim Yazdani. But tomorrow you'll come to know who I actually am and then it will be my day.

Her bitterly said words rang in his ears and he gulped, hard. The flushed face, the wounded figure, the broken voice appeared behind the heavy lids and he closed his eyes in immense pain.

She knew.

She knew from the beginning that it was him while he was even oblivious of the fact that the woman he was scarring for her entire life was his wife. Had he known, he would not have dared harm a single hair of her head - but that was where all the trouble lied.

He did not know and the actions were now irrevocably done.

And finally, the one haunting question came back to bite him again - how could he not recognize her? Yes, Ibrahim had not seen her eyes since eight years but will that excuse be enough to save him when the time comes? She had changed over the years, so much and so beautifully, but he was never given with a right to forget how she looked. He was supposed to recognize her on the first glance but unfortunately, he did not and that was where all the chaos started.

Ibrahim, standing by the window sill after way past midnight, staring ahead at the magnitude of nothingness that was spread before his eyes, at the black sky that threatened to engulf him, he felt regret and pain crawling up his skin, slithering up the spine that had so venomously been rigid in front of the woman he abducted.

And in that moment, he longed for forgiveness, for ridding himself of the terrible ache that seemed to choke his heart, for freeing his mind from the captivity of the events of that cursed night from a week ago. But even as he desired, he knew how horribly false he was, and how immense difficulties lied in front of him.

And I swear to God, I won't forgive you then.

Hemayal Khakwani's last words rang his eardrums and he exhaled a shaky breath, limbs trembling - out of coldness or regret, he did not know. Hemayal would never forgive him, not even in a million years, and the worst part of it was the fact that she was right in her decisions. She refused to meet him when he asked - it was enough of the glimpse in the future that laid ahead for them.

She was not wrong, she was so immensely right that it made him physically ache. She should never forgive him; he did not deserve it either. After hurting her, physically and emotionally, he did not deserve her kindness, or even anything from her side. Ibrahim Yazdani deserved being stoned to death and Hemayal Khakwani held every right to sign off his death warrants.

But God, he longed to live, and that too freely.

But he knew, knew too well, that he would never be blessed with freedom in a thousand years. The woman he kidnapped was his wife; the woman whose neck he held with immense strength and anger was his wife; the woman who lost her grandfather because of him was his goddamn wife and he knew with utmost surety that freedom will be a word unknown to him in coming days.

Ibrahim was suddenly reminded of their first encounter, when their paths crossed in an accident that was followed by a heated argument in the rain that soaked them both. She did not know him then, that he was sure of now. If she did, she would have never behaved the way she did. The woman he had the accident with was someone who did not even know his name while the woman he kidnapped was a person who knew his name well enough.

Why had not he thought about that before?

Something definitely happened in a period of one week that reminded her of him, that made her come to the realization that Ibrahim Yazdani was her husband. But Ibrahim could not help but think how fortunate she had been. She came to know the identity of the man she had the accident with a little too early, before anything wrong could happen, before it was too late, before life could play any game with her.

But he was not blessed with this fortune. He was left in the darkness until the water was above his head and God, he did not know how to swim his way out.

And finally a lone thought came to him, one that made him drop his hands on the window pan as he bent his figure, exhaustion and cold numbing his limbs as sudden pain rose in him. Even if, by some miracle, Hemayal found in her heart to forgive him, how would he forgive himself?

A woman cried because of him, she was severely injured because of him, a man died because of him, a family was left worried and broken because of him - how would he ever find in him to forgive himself? How will he ever be able to breathe after all the atrocities he had committed, and that too towards his wife?

Heaving a deep breath, Ibrahim slightly pulled back as he straightened his bent spine, an action that made him physically ache. The window was left open, the cold gushes of October wind fiddling with his hair, making his limbs effortlessly numb in complement to his mind that had long ago stopped functioning.

As he stepped backward, feet bare, he felt a tremble in his limbs and he had to hold the window pan to prevent the fall that was sure to come if he hadn't. A tremor slithered up his spine as he closed his eyes and shook the head, ridding himself of the contagious thoughts - if even for a moment. And when the next time he took a step, he did not stumble.

Slowly but surely, he made his way across the room and entered the washroom, heart still beating in the proximity of the throat. Trembling slightly, he made his way deeper into the washroom and finally stepped inside the shower, limbs absolutely frozen. Without stripping his body off of any piece of clothing, he turned on the shower and warm water cascaded down on him in torrents.

Closing his eyes against the warmth that suddenly flooded his insides, he exhaled a deep sigh as exhaustion suddenly overcame the regret and pain he had been feeling for too long now. Dropping his head and placing the palms across the large glass pan that surrounded him, he felt hot water ease his burning nerves and frozen limbs.

The mind that was a chaos and thoughts that were a mess began to clear as he stood beneath the shower, the fog on his mind beginning to lift ever so slowly. The emotional pain stayed in place but the physical one began to fade away, the limbs now returning back to life, a new soul being blown into them. His shoulders sagged in relief as exhaustion filled him, wanting nothing more than to fall on his bed and wait for the sleep to come.

Sleep that he knew would not come with ease, but despite the prevalent situations, he hoped because it was the only thing he could at the moment.

He stood beneath the shower until the water ran cold and his fingertips dampened as lines ran across them. Finally, when the warm water no longer cascaded on him, he opened his eyes and straightened his bent posture. Turning off the tap, he slowly stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel form the stand, rubbing his hair with it as droplets of water flew everywhere in the room.

A few minutes later, he emerged out of the washroom, looking absolutely chic at three in the morning wearing sweatpants and t-shirt that fitted his frame perfectly. Walking towards the bed and sliding the blanket away, he sat on the bed before picking his mobile phone from the nightstand. Unlocking the phone with a fingerprint, he went straight to call logs that indicated quite a few missed calls since the last time he checked, thinking about the day he had just spent.

This date, the beginning of the October, was one he would never forget. On this date, he lost trust, not in the world but in his own self and his decisions; on this date, life placed a mirror in front of him and he was haunted by the image it showed; on this date, he lost himself and probably his wife too.

However, just as he was about to place his phone back on the nightstand and fall back on the bed to welcome a refreshing sleep, if it even came, a thought came to him stimulated by his previous thoughts of dates and days. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, limbs suddenly freezing for the hundredth time today. Eyes going wide in sockets, he unlocked the phone with thorns in throat and knots in stomach and went straight to the calendar.

This stark difference in her personality had to do with something bad. Maybe a troubled day or a fight with someone

Mustafa's words after his encounter with Hemayal in the workshop rang in his ears, making his heart fill with dread. He had been absolutely astonished at the time he saw Hemayal for the second time in the workshop, amazed at the differences in her personality that he had uncovered in just two meetings. The two meetings and the woman was absolutely different each time. First time, she was bad-tempered, judgemental and feisty while the second time she was as calm as the sea.

The stark differences meddled with his mind and Mustafa had so easily come to a conclusion that she must be having a bad day the first time they met. Ibrahim, at that time, had not welcomed the possibility but right now, after everything, he knew everything was humanly possible.

Going two weeks back on the calendar, he stopped on a rainy Sunday morning he encountered his wife after eight long years of silence. His eyes went to the date on that day and all of his small hopes came crashing down as his heart dropped in his chest, eyes closing in absolute affliction.

Hemayal Khakwani really was having a bad day when they first met and he only now knew why. And with this realization, came a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as a horrifying and troubling thought came to rest in the hollowness of his mind - Hemayal was not happy with this marriage long before Ibrahim even laid eyes on her after eight years.

The proof was valid and there was no denying her discontentment and unhappiness now, knowing that it cannot be a coincidence that she was having a bad day on that specific date.

On 17th September - the anniversary of their marriage.

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6:27am

Sleep did not engulf him in its wings that night.

The painful night was spent tossing and turning in the bed, each beat adding to the burden of his actions, each breath doubling the regret his heart carried like an art. All night, a flushed and scarred face invaded his senses, rendering him completely incapable to function, making a void rise in his insides where his heart used to be.

And the night was spent coming to extraordinary conclusions and realizations - Hemayal was as disturbed by their marriage as he was; she did not want to keep this marriage either. Ibrahim was now sure it was long before the kidnapping had even been planned when she found discontentment in her heart regarding the marriage. A day before and he would have welcomed her unhappiness with open arms but right now, he welcomed it with regret and sorrow.

The night had been passed, the first streaks of dawn breaking in through the open window, cascading on his rough face and swollen eyes, making them stand out in intricacy and delicacy. With his figure a mess of clothes and blanket, he had had his eyes lazily open as he stared up at the ceiling, eyes hollow.

Finally, he gave up the attempt to fall into a peaceful slumber and pushed the blanket away, cold air coming to hit him in the face as he did. Standing up from the bed with utmost slowness, he picked his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it with a single touch. It was not the sudden bright light that took him off guard; it was the time that the screen showed.

It was half-past six and he had to leave for Islamabad within half an hour if he wanted to reach there on time for his vacation had ended. After Ammu's insistence, he had decided to stay back for one more night rather than leaving for Islamabad yesterday. One additional night would not make much of a difference for him, but for Ammu, it meant the world so he stayed back.

Quickly placing the phone back on the nightstand, he hurried towards the washroom after taking a few long strides, frown coming to rest on his handsome face as he regarded the time that was quickly passing by. Ibrahim Yazdani was punctual and the world knew it well; this laziness did not settle with him at all.

A few minutes later and a refreshed man exited the washroom who was elegantly dressed in white button-up shirt tucked in the waist of his dark blue jeans, feet clad in desert shoes that walked swiftly along the length of his room with a class that had come to be a part of his personality. Coming to stand in front of the mirror, Ibrahim picked the leather watch from the table before it found the wrist of his left hand. Comb moved through his thick, wet hair and checking the planes of his cheek as droplets of perfume lost their identity on his crisp shirt, he knew he was ready for the day.

Collecting the small bag of suitcase and placing it beside the door, he collected his phone, wallet and coat before exiting the room, finally going back to his practical life after almost three weeks of vacation. Slowly but with grace, he descended the staircase and without seeing anyone, walked towards the exit door.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Mustafa was present there, waiting for him, coming after a jog if the sweat dripping down his brows was any alibi. He eyed the bag in Ibrahim's hands with crease of the forehead before a frown covered his face, masked by worry.

"You're going?" He asked just as the watchman came to put Ibrahim's suitcase in the car.

"Yes." Ibrahim answered, voice small.

"You've met everyone?" Mustafa asked and Ibrahim tore his gaze away slightly.

"I met them last night before going to bed." He answered slowly, eyes watching distantly the man who handled his bag.

"You didn't meet them, Abi. You just said goodbye after cancelling dinner and went straight to your room." Mustafa glared at his younger brother with a hint of worry in the eyes, "What has gotten into you?"

Mustafa's worry and concern only reminded Ibrahim of the night he had just spent - drowning in pain as the waves washed over him - and right now, it was the last thing he needed. Shaking his head, he took a step forward and placed a hand on Mustafa's shoulder, both men almost the same height.

"Nothing, man, I'm fine." Ibrahim reassured with a smile that did not come easy at all, "I just have to be in my office in three hours. Clock's ticking and if I want to reach there on time, I should be on my way now."

"So you're going without meeting anyone?" Mustafa deadpanned, hardly buying Ibrahim's excuse.

"Mustafa, I met everyone last night. " Ibrahim's roll of the eye indicated his annoyance at the direction their conversation was heading, "And besides, Islamabad isn't that far away. I'll come back this weekend."

"But what happened last night?" Mustafa asked with a frown and Ibrahim now huffed out in annoyance visibly, all the memories suddenly coming back to him in a single wave, "Why did you cancel the dinner?"

Mustafa's concern annoyed Ibrahim but it also made him sigh. His elder brother's worry at sudden downhill of Ibrahim's mood only made him exhale a deep breath before he decided that he could not go through this mayhem alone - this turmoil needs to be sorted out as quickly as possible and for that, he needed someone's help - physical and mental both.

"You don't have any plans tonight, right?" Ibrahim asked as he went past Mustafa and opened the car's door.

"No, not of any importance." Mustafa turned around and answered as Ibrahim placed an arm on the car's door with his one leg inside the car.

"Come to my place tonight. I'll tell you everything." Ibrahim mentioned his apartment - the residence that had housed him for almost a year now after he was transferred to Islamabad from Karachi - and a frown covered Mustafa's face.

"You can tell me everything now." Mustafa shrugged his shoulders but Ibrahim shook his head.

"I have to go back, man, I'm running late." Ibrahim said before slapping Mustafa on the shoulder and slipping behind the wheels of his car after saying goodbye.

"I'll see you tonight, then." Mustafa yelled as Ibrahim exited the car from the garage and Ibrahim tipped his head with a small smile before his car swiftly made its way across the deserted roads of Abbottabad.

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9:29am

The October winds blew steadily across the mountains, the ruffling of his clothes and the mess of his hair enough of a confirmation. The morning sun shone on his face in all its glory, the refined planes of his cheeks and the firm line of his jaws set as he gazed ahead at the sprawling building spread before his eyes. Walking inside with determined steps, he crossed the threshold and his appearance and personality made no man come forward to question him as he moved towards the elevator.

Pushing the floor number, he waited as the elevator climbed up, his agitation and nervousness rising with it too. It had taken him three hours to track down the workplace of the woman he was going to meet in a few minutes and cost him another day of his own work. At the last minute, during his drive back to Islamabad, he had encountered a change of plans and called in for another day off from work.

Had he not been as reputable and respected within the confines of his world of work, he would not have gotten away so easily. Luckily, he was and nobody questioned his motives and ability to get the work done - a thing he had achieved after years of constant drill, sleepless nights and extreme diligence. So that is why the CFO of the company he worked in, who happened to be a good friend of his too, had not been much concerned when he called for a day off.

"I hope you are not planning on leaving us, Mr Yazdani." The man had joked in good humour and Ibrahim had only let out a hearty chuckle as he drove.

"I never plan beforehand, Mr Khan, it is all spontaneous." Ibrahim had replied, earning a good laugh from the other side.

"Well, I hope the odds have mercy on us then. Nobody would want to lose such a valuable asset now, would he?" His reply made Ibrahim smile slightly, boasting his already high ego, "But it's okay. We can survive without you for another day. But don't make it anymore late, young man."

The elevator door opened with a sharp sound, making Ibrahim come back to reality and he hurriedly stepped outside, heading straight towards the reception desk. The receptionist guided him to his destination after formal enquiries, and with heavy heart that thudded in the proximity of his throat, he followed the given directions.

A few minutes later and he stood by an open door that led towards the office cubicle, lined by quite a few desks which were all occupied at this moment. The room was buzzing with sound, the commotion largely due to young men and women gearing themselves up at the start of the new day. It was only half past nine, an official time for start of the work day and it did not take the mind of a genius to calculate the energy that vibrated through the room.

However, his eyes searched for only a single person and not after much effort, his eyes landed on her and he braced himself for the worst as he walked deeper inside the room. The woman was smiling as she talked to a female colleague, only her side pose visible from the direction in which he stood, and after taking a deep breath, he entered her peripheral vision and hearing range.

"Hello, Mehmal." Ibrahim smiled in her direction and the response was abrupt.

Mehmal's head snapped towards him, eyes going slightly wide as she registered her brother-in-law's appearance in front of her. Disbelief flashed in her eyes for a moment before she recovered from the shock and left her seat, slowly standing up and excusing herself from the colleague who went away after gazing at Ibrahim strangely.

"It's nice to meet you again." Ibrahim started the conversation with a polite smile but the look of disgust that crossed Mehmal's face contained all the answers that he needed.

"I wish I could say the same, brother-in-law." The enforcement on the word of address and contempt in her voice could have only a single explanation - she knew.

"I can understand your emotions at the mom..." Ibrahim's words were sliced through the half when an angry voice of a woman vibrated his eardrums, a thing he found deeply insulting but he stuck by the words he said a moment ago - he really understood her.

"What are you doing here?" She spoke through clenched teeth, venom in her voice and Ibrahim sighed for a moment as he eyed the commotion that was beginning to settle down now.

"Can we talk, Mehmal? Somewhere else?" Ibrahim sighed, voice turning low as random voices muted around him, suddenly making him conscious of content of the conversation he was having at the moment.

"No, we most definitely can't." Mehmal replied, her voice low too, and this provided Ibrahim with the opportunity he sought.

"I have no problem talking here but it is your workplace and I don't want to turn you into an object of discussion for your colleagues." Ibrahim played the card, hoping that she would buy it, "Please, Mehmal, I insist."

The small sigh that left her lips and slouch of her shoulders made Ibrahim visibly relax but the hard lines on her face told Ibrahim that the next few minutes would not be so easy on him. Gesturing her to move forward, he walked outside the room with his steps faltering behind her, mind busy scanning through all the words of apology he would have to use in the coming time.

"And I'm sure you have already talked to my boss." Mehmal said, casting him a glance over her shoulder and the sheepish smile that covered Ibrahim's face only made her roll her eyes before turning her head, making him remember the woman who did the same under the cold flush of rain.

Eons later and the two people sat opposite to each other in a café, one's expressions that of regret, apology and shame while the other only glared with sheer abhorrence. Ibrahim had his fingers tightly knotted as his hand rested against the wooden table, his knuckles turning white. Mehmal, however, only had a scowl on her face as she regarded his face with disgust and anger.

"She was right, you know. Looks are treacherous." Mehmal began the conversation after a whole minute was spent glaring on her par and Ibrahim only tearing his gaze away.

"So you do accept that I am handsome?" Ibrahim intended to lighten the air up but it did the opposite, the woman's scowl hardening as she shot him a death glare.

"I'm sorry, I just...never mind." Ibrahim shook his head before he released his hands from the death grip, leaning back on the seat a little.

"Whatever you have to say, just make it quick. I don't have all day." She said and Ibrahim gulped heavily at the hatred in her voice before continuing.

"When did she tell you?" Ibrahim said, voice now turning serious and grave as he scanned Mehmal's face for answer.

"I don't see how that concerns you." She replied in the same tone and Ibrahim could not even point that out because he knew she was right in this, "More pressing question here is how did you find out? And when?"

"Last night." Ibrahim only replied to the single question, relieved that Mehmal was finally beginning to talk, even if it was all sarcasm and taunt.

"You are quick then." She mused with an eye roll before a thought occurred to her, "But how can we not know that? You have mighty quick service."

The taunt in Mehmal's words hinted at the incident and made Ibrahim drown in the ocean of regret and shame, forcing him to tear his gaze away as he sighed. He knew it would be difficult to talk to Mehmal after everything but he did not even have the slightest idea that it would be so mentally exhausting and heart wrenching. Her every word, in one way or another, was a whip of coal and boy, it hurt.

"Mehmal, please." Ibrahim begged with despair latching at his words, "It was a misunderstanding. I didn't know it was her."

"Oh, really? You want me to believe that you didn't recognize your wife?" The cold humour in Mehmal's tone made Ibrahim shrink in his place as he dropped his head with a sigh for a moment.

"I know it sounds stupid." Ibrahim stopped for a second when Mehmal scoffed but continued nevertheless, "But believe me, I did not know. We had not seen each other in such a long time; it was easy for me to be misunderstood."

Ibrahim's excuse did not bear any major fruit but it did make the woman sigh in annoyance, indicating that she was ready to believe this truth of his without further ado. Maybe Hemayal had already told her that he did not recognize her that night, Ibrahim mused. Maybe she did know everything due to which she let go of the topic so easily.

"Fine, even if you didn't, do you think this excuse will save you when the time comes?" Mehmal creased her brows as she asked, tone straight.

"I know it won't but I have no other defence, Mehmal." Ibrahim looked in her eyes with despair and ache, "At least this is the one that she'll believe."

"She won't believe a word that comes out of your mouth now, you remember that." Ibrahim's last slowly said sentence made Mehmal reiterate fiercely, her eyes afire.

"She hates me?" Ibrahim did not know what overcame him when he asked question, the answer of which he already knew.

"She liked you, Ibrahim, she really did. Always did." Mehmal's slow reply as she leaned back against the seat made Ibrahim's heart skips a ferocious beat, "But this act of yours, I think everything alters after this. You made her hate and loathe even the air that you breathe."

Ibrahim regarded her face for a full second before he averted his gaze and gulped heavily. The revelation of Hemayal's possible liking towards him reminded him of his previous decisions of divorcing her and ending this marriage. He had been so sure of himself back then that he had paid no heed towards her decisions. Yes, he did tell Mustafa that he will ask her before ending this marriage but he made no claim of entertaining the possibility of ever continuing this marriage, even if she wanted it.

Ironically, the tables were turned now; the balls were in her court and she had full intention of terminating this marriage which was nothing but an arrangement meant to satisfy some people and a compromise which had more secrets under it than one. Now, she hated him with every fibre of her being, rightly though, but this time, Ibrahim wanted to keep this marriage. He did not know what overcame him, what triggered these thoughts, but he didn't want to divorce her anymore - a thing he knew was impossible now.

"Why did you come to me? I think you should have gone straight to her when you found out." Mehmal looked at his face, frown between her thin brows.

"I wanted to test the temperature of the water I was going to dive in." Ibrahim's metaphorically stated words had a weight and a small, sad smile touched Mehmal's lips.

"It's hot, brother-in-law, burning." Mehmal replied slowly, dangerously and Ibrahim's lips pressed themselves in a thin line.

"Are there any chances of the water cooling anytime soon?" Ibrahim asked, shoulders slouched.

"Right now, no. And in one way or another, I'm glad." Mehmal fixed Ibrahim's features in her hard gaze, "My sister does not deserve you, Ibrahim Yazdani, she deserves a life full of happiness and you've given her nothing but pain and misery."

"Unwillingly. Unknowingly." He sighed, years of tiredness suddenly coming to rest in his voice.

"Intentionally or not, you did those deeds. Actions have consequences but sins and mistakes take a lifetime to melt away, Ibrahim." Mehmal's voice sounded tired too and suddenly, it came to Ibrahim that Mehmal was not the enemy, she was just looking out for her sister, and that too rightly.

"Is there any way out of this, Mehmal?" He asked, lids heavy.

"I don't know, Hemayal is the one to decide that." Mehmal began and Ibrahim bit the inside of his mouth, "She is angry at you, she is all the shades of pain and anger at this moment but she is Hemayal; you can never know what goes through that brain of hers. So, I really don't know how she'll pursue this issue - you have to figure that out yourself."

Mehmal's voice turned head as she approached the end, her gaze turning into a glare and Ibrahim looked at them for a minute before tearing his gaze away. The sole reason he had approached Mehmal and not anyone else or even Hemayal directly was because he knew Mehmal was close to Hemayal - his visit to her house last week told him so - and he did want to test the depth of the water. But Mehmal's denial of helping him had put him in a strange position.

He didn't know Hemayal at all and tackling someone you know next to nothing about is an absolute disaster. How he'll get out of this mess was beyond him but he will try. Yes, he will. Even if it cost him time, energy and ego, he will gladly do it. He did not know what overcame him but he did not want to lose the woman who wore shades of brown in her head and had the courage to look at him in the eye when her world was threatened.

"Fine, I'll figure something out." Ibrahim sighed, voice determined now before he added, looking right in Mehmal's eyes with a stern gaze, "But please don't tell Hemayal that I came to you the moment you leave this café. Please."

A frown came to rest between Mehmal's brows and she opened her mouth to utter her denial but Ibrahim was quick to cut her off.

"Please, this is my mess and I'll sort this out in my own way. You rushing to tell her about this meeting will only upset my plans." Ibrahim fixed Mehmal in his gaze, one he had pulled off only a week ago at her, "I insist, Mehmal."

He said and sighed, cursing himself inwardly for lying to her about plans. Boy, he did not even have one in the back of his mind at the moment but maybe this was the only way out of the mess he had so foolishly landed himself in.

"I'll see what I can do about that." Mehmal said and stood up, her words not giving much away but her tone gave Ibrahim the answer that he needed - she won't tell Hemayal.

"Thank you." Ibrahim too stood up and saw as she slowly exited the café, his deep eyes fixed at her back as thoughts ran through him.

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Okay, guys.

So the thing is that this is the last chapter that was already written. After this, I don't have any chapter, I'm suffering from writer's block and moreover, my exams are happening. So next update will take time. I hope you guys will understand!

I'm thinking of making a chapter explaining all the characters and their relationships once and for all as I guess that some people are still confused regarding so many names. Do you guys want that? Do tell!

Till next time,
Salam!