Chapter 45

Salaar was sitting in the lobby with a book in hand, but his mind was elsewhere. The voices of their chatter and chuckles could be heard clearly. Though he was happy to see Zarmeena shedding her hard shell, he still felt a pang of jealousy at her closeness to someone else. He knew their friendship was pure, but still, he wanted her to be that close only to him.

Zubair brought her usual black coffee and placed it on the counter table.
"Salaar sir, it's good to see Madam Zarmeena in a light mood today. She seems happy," Zubair exclaimed in a relaxed tone.
"Yes, she is, but this happiness is because of someone else," Salaar muttered, sipping his coffee. Zubair could easily notice the dismay in his voice.

After a little while, Sajid appeared. He silently sat in front of Salaar.

Salaar could easily sense that he wanted to say something. At last, after a brief pause, Sajid chose his words carefully and started.

"Look, Salaar, I have no right to interfere in your personal matters, but Zaro is my best friend. If you allow me, I want to discuss something about her," Sajid said, emphasizing his words.
"Yes, Sajid, go ahead. I have no doubts about your friendship, and I also know that at the moment, she doesn't trust or believe in anyone other than you," Salaar replied, reassuring him. He meant every word he said.

"Zarmeena is not a girl anyone can take lightly. Sometimes she is beyond your expectations. Once, she got typhoid just before her exams. Despite having a high fever, she kept giving her papers and pushing herself to study but still got second position. That was unacceptable to her. The entire next semester, she studied fanatically-working 20 out of 24 hours, barely sleeping or eating-until she got her position back.

As far as pushing herself through constant torment goes, she's a master at it. You can expect anything from her. Whatever the reason was, she accepted marrying you. Maybe if Dadi was alive, she would have accepted you wholeheartedly. But now, the situation is much different-she has lost everything. She can go to any extent to get it back. Until she does, it will be difficult for her to truly accept you."

Sajid paused for a moment and took a deep breath.
"Salaar, sorry to say this, but whether you like it or not, you are the reason for this turmoil in her life. As far as I understand her, she will give you a very tough time. If you really love her, wait for her to forgive you and turn towards you willingly. If you force her into anything, it will only bring destruction to both of your lives. I hope you understand and don't mind." Sajid finished and stood up.

"Sajid, thank you. I will always be grateful to you for bringing her back to life," Salaar said gratefully.
"Salaar, don't think I am rude, but I did this for Zaro. And until she accepts you, I won't accept you either," Sajid exclaimed truthfully.

Sajid left, but his words left Salaar with regretful thoughts. He should have let her marry Fareed-she might have been happier, more lively. "I married her, but will I ever truly own her?" he wondered. There were thousands of questions for which he had no answers.

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Mrs. Qureshi was sitting beside the window near the fireplace, totally engrossed in watching the snowfall. With a light thud, Leena sat beside her.

"Mom, how long are we going to stay here? You said Tina Aunty is ill, but I can see she is perfectly fine. Is this, by chance, anything to do with Salaar?" Leena voiced her doubts, dragging Mrs. Qureshi out of her comfort zone.

"Mom, I want you to be clear about this and keep it in your mind-I'm not giving up on Salaar. No matter what happens, I will always love him. So, it's better that you start packing because I am not going to stay here anymore," Leena said sternly and turned around, giving Mrs. Qureshi no chance to respond.

"Stop, Leena. I didn't want to tell you here, in someone else's house, but you've left me with no other option," Mrs. Qureshi said loudly and sternly. Leena, who had her back to her, turned around to confront her.

"Forget about Salaar. He can never be yours. If he had the slightest interest in you, he wouldn't have married someone else. You're wasting yourself on him," Mrs. Qureshi said, unable to control her harsh tone.

Leena felt as though she was pressed beneath tons of weight; she stopped breathing at her mother's announcement. Tears welled up in the corners of her stunning eyes. She had feared this moment her entire life-that Salaar would find love in someone else. And now, it had actually happened.

Seeing her daughter breaking down, Mrs. Qureshi came forward to embrace her, but Leena stopped her.

"You're lying, Mom. This can't be true. Salaar... no, no, no, Mom!" Leena put her hands over her ears, squatted on the floor, and sobbed hysterically.

"What will I do, Mom? I will die! Please say this is a joke. It can't be real, Mom. No, no, no!" she cried, her voice hoarse and wavering as her soul seemed to break apart. She lay on the floor, crying loudly like a child whose favorite toy had been snatched away.

Mrs. Qureshi stepped forward and took her in her arms.
"Leena, my daughter, this is the truth. If you accept it, it will be easier for you to endure this pain," Mrs. Qureshi said, trying to console her.

"No, Mom, no! I cannot accept defeat from any random girl. Salaar is mine-only mine. I loved him before I even knew what love was. Only I deserve him. Only I have the right to own him. Let's go back, Mom. Leena is returning to her battlefield. This time, I will not return unless I plant my flag on Salaar's heart," she declared with determination, not letting anyone claim the territory she had set her eyes on first.

The tears engraved in her eyes sparkled with the strength of her words. Mrs. Qureshi stood silent, aghast at her daughter's madness, and wondered where it would lead. She pitied the unknown girl Leena would rage against, unaware that this time Leena would be messing with someone much stronger and far more powerful.
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The sound of tapping from a little distance was enough to wake him from his not-so-deep slumber. The view in front of him was enough to erase his remaining drowsiness. Zarmeena was wearing a maroon-shaded plain shalwar qameez with a matching dupatta on her head and a light brown shawl draped over her shoulder. Her hair was loose, free from any accessories. Without makeup, she looked entirely different from her usual tomboyish appearance.

Salaar's heart skipped a beat at just one glance.

She was ready for university, her backpack slung over her right shoulder, tapping her Nokia 3310 phone in an attempt to bring it to life.

"My God, this stupid phone is good for nothing! Always showing tantrums to this poor, innocent girl," Zarmeena pouted, her face full of innocence.

Salaar couldn't help but grin at her antics but pretended to stay asleep. He didn't want to make her conscious by letting her sense he was awake.

Through half-closed eyelashes, he observed her every gesture. She slowly moved closer to him. His breathing faltered, and butterflies fluttered through his body. She knelt down beside his bed and raised her hand toward him.

Salaar felt a surge of emotions he couldn't name. He was sure he wouldn't be able to keep pretending much longer. He waited for her hand to touch him, but instead, she reached for his phone and slowly picked it up. She tried to unlock it, but the phone was password-protected.

After several failed attempts, the phone-unlike its owner-refused to give her a chance.

Salaar regretted putting a password on it.

Zarmeena placed the phone back where it was and left the room quietly, her steps slow and soft.

When she was gone, Salaar raised his head and whispered to himself, "Stupid girl, the password is your name."

He took a deep breath and dropped his head back onto the pillow, closing his eyes as he relived those fleeting moments.

He felt as though his room had turned into a haunted place, replacing Eden, as she left.

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She slowly closed the door behind her and started descending the stairs of Salaar's portion. When she exited the entrance and glanced around, she saw Salaar's father sitting in the lounge, fumbling with office files. At first, she wanted to leave without stopping to greet him, but it wasn't in her upbringing to pass by without saying Salam. Her feet slowly started moving toward Mr. Faizan.

"As-salamu alaikum, Uncle," she said respectfully, covering her head as a gesture of respect.

"Oh, Wa alaikum assalam. My daughter has come to greet me," Faizan said, raising his head from the bundle of files and placing his hand on her bowed head.

"It seems my daughter is going somewhere," he added, genuinely happy to see her slowly coming back to life.

"University. Actually, I've missed many classes, and I don't want to become a victim of short attendance. Our professors are already bloodsuckers," Zarmeena said metaphorically, making Faizan chuckle at her sarcasm.

"I don't like one thing in your conversation," Faizan said, his tone turning serious.

"What?" Zarmeena asked, puzzled.

"'Uncle.' Call me Daddy. Can't I deserve to be a father to this amazing lady?"

Zarmeena felt a stir of emotions. Since losing her father, no one had tried to take his place, nor had she allowed anyone to. She felt overwhelmed for a moment, but she was in a state of abandonment, her capacity to trust others stretched to its limit.

"Sorry, but we've never had a normal conversation before. Wouldn't it look stupid to give you such a high pedestal?" Zarmeena said honestly, voicing what she had been holding inside. To her, they were little more than strangers.

"Hahaha." Faizan couldn't control his laughter.

"Okay, I'll wait for you to put me on that pedestal. But at least we can be friends. How about that?" Faizan asked, still fumbling to control his giggles.

Before she could answer, the 3310 Nokia phone in her hand started beeping. She quickly pressed the button and answered the call.

"Yes, Sajid. Will you drop me at the university?" she requested. Faizan watched her intently.

"Oh, you're already at the university," she said, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"No, no, I'll come by myself," she retorted and paused for a moment.

"No, Sajid, there's no need for that," she added, perhaps in response to his offer to pick her up.

"Yes, I'm sure," she answered firmly and ended the call.

"Okay, Uncle, I'm going. Allah Hafiz," she said without answering Faizan's last question and took her leave.

"Wait. The driver can drop you," Faizan offered, concern evident in his tone.

"No, Uncle. Please, I can't accept anything I didn't earn myself."

," she answered firmly. She wanted to add that she would never accept any offer as Salaar Malik's wife, but she didn't want to break a father's heart.

Faizan gazed at the retreiving young lady, realizing she was unlike anyone he had ever met. She was pure, devoid of artificiality, and unable to hide her true self. He felt blessed to have her as part of the Malik family now. A soft smile touched his face.

"Dad, did Zarmeena crack a joke that you're smiling to yourself?" Salaar, who had been observing them from the terrace and had come downstairs, asked curiously.

"Why should I tell you? It was a father-daughter talk. Are you jealous?" Faizan teased in the same tone.

"Why should I be jealous? I mean, I asked out of curiosity," Salaar replied, though his sulking tone betrayed him. He was jealous. Zarmeena had never had such a long conversation with anyone in this house before.

"Who is this Sajid?" Faizan asked meaningfully.

"Zarmeena's best friend. Why do you ask?" Salaar responded casually.

"Hmm. He's so lucky to have Zarmeena as a friend. And Salaar, you will be the most unfortunate person if you fail to win her heart," Faizan said, his voice filled with admiration for the strong, fearless young woman. He desperately hoped she would one day accept him as her father-or at least as a friend.