(Chapter 9)

Begum Shameem Malik, the wife of the late Muhammad Nawaz Malik, was an elderly woman of about eighty years. She had spent her life as a supportive pillar for her husband, much like a stem supports a climbing plant. She was the epitome of the saying, "Behind every successful man, there is a woman." Through the toughest times, she stood by her husband, and despite challenging circumstances, she raised her children to lead happy lives. Even in her old age, her children deeply valued her advice.

Today, Warda sat before her, troubled, sharing her worries about Nazli.

"Ammi Jan (dear mother), what should I do? You always told me not to interfere with her, but lately, she's always at her mother's house. She doesn't even care when her husband and son leave or return home. It's true that there are servants handling everything, but we always advised that a woman should still oversee her home, even with help around," Warda leaned towards her mother-in-law, anxious and totally disappointed in her daughter-in-law.

"Warda, my dear daughter, I've told you not to be harsh with her. If you do, you risk losing your son too. These old eyes have seen how much Taimur loves his wife. God forbid, but he could easily turn against you," Begum Shameem advised, drawing from her own life experience. Her elder daughter-in-law had been much like Nazli, and she had gone through a difficult time because of it. Even now, despite her son's persuasion, she didn't enjoy staying with her.

"But Ammi, I can't stand seeing Taimur and Musa being neglected like this," Warda responded, her voice tense and full of concern for her son and grandson.

"Don't worry, I'll come soon, and we'll handle it together," Ammi Jan tried to comfort her. She had been staying at her youngest son's house recently.

"Ammi, please come soon, we miss you," Warda said, hugging her, and Begum Shameem held her close a little longer.

"Don't worry, as soon as Zawar returns from his business trip, I'll come right away. I can't leave Samina alone in this house. If they had children, I wouldn't be so stressed about them," she reassured her, though she looked sad as she spoke of Zawar and Samina not having children.

Just then, Samina appeared with tea and refreshments on a trolley.

"Warda, you've turned into a typical mother-in-law, always complaining about Nazli," Samina teased, exchanging a warm smile with Warda, clearly in the mood to lighten the atmosphere.

"Look, I'm an old lady now. I must have the right to nag someone," Warda replied, also in a humorous tone.

Begum Shameem smiled at their playful banter. Both women were as dear to her as daughters.

For the past two hours, Salaar had been holding a book with a beautiful cover, but his thoughts were far from the pages. He wasn't absorbing a single word. Suddenly, his phone screen lit up with the name "Fahad." He wasn't in the mood to talk but reluctantly answered.

"Salaar, where are you? Don't tell me you're at home again. Lately, you've been outdoing Dado with your 'stay home, stay safe' routine. The pandemic is long over, so please, snap out of it," Fahad teased, sounding a bit annoyed.

"If this isn't important, I'm hanging up," Salaar said firmly, not in the mood for small talk.

"Wait, hold on!" Fahad quickly interjected, sensing that Salaar might disconnect. "Jawad and I are at the entrance of Malik Villas. We're here for something serious. Can you let the guards know to let us in?" Fahad explained, knowing that entry to Malik Villas required prior permission.

"Alright," Salaar replied casually. A few minutes later, Fahad and Jawad were seated in the lobby of Salaar's section of the house.

"Oh my God, I always knew you were well-off, Salaar, but this is beyond what I imagined!" Jawad exclaimed, taken aback by the lavishly furnished lobby and the uniformed staff.

"Don't tell me you're this wealthy too?" Jawad asked Fahad, still in disbelief.

"Relax, I live a normal life. My father is a brigadier in the army," Fahad responded casually.

"But aren't you two cousins?" Jawad asked, curious, tilting towards Fahad.

"Yes, we are. Our mothers are sisters, but I'm not from the Malik side of the family," Fahad clarified, just as Warda approached them. She looked stunning, as always, in her elegant attire and matching makeup.

"Good afternoon, Aunty," Fahad rose and greeted warmly.

"Fahad, how are you, dear?" Warda embraced him warmly. Then, noticing Jawad's presence, she gave Fahad a questioning look.

"This is Jawad, Salaar's classmate and our mutual friend," Fahad introduced him. Jawad, already amazed, couldn't say anything, gazing at the young and beautiful mother of Salaar, though he extended his hand.

"Well, he must be special if he's friends with Salaar; he doesn't make friends easily," Warda remarked, shaking Jawad's hand.

"As Salaar's friend, you're always welcome at Malik Villas," she added warmly.

"Mom, is everything alright?" Salaar asked as he approached, concerned for his father.

"Everything's fine. I'm just inviting you to dinner tonight. Your dad wants to discuss something, so please be on time," Warda said lovingly. Salaar nodded in agreement, and Warda left.

"You guys need an invitation before a meal?" Jawad asked, still trying to digest everything.

"Actually, Salaar has his own section of the house," Fahad explained.

"Section?" Jawad repeated, still amazed, his mouth agape.

"Malik Villas is divided into four sections," Fahad tried to explain. "On the ground floor, one section is for Uncle and Aunty Warda, another is where Dado lives, and upstairs, one section is for Taimur Bhai and his family, and the other is where we're sitting now," Fahad explained.

"If you're done counting the sections of my house, can you please tell me what serious matter you wanted to discuss?" Salaar asked, sounding fed up with their conversation.

"Sir Baqir wants to see you," Jawad finally said, snapping out of his astonishment.

"Who's Sir Baqir?" Salaar asked as a servant, fully suited, entered with a trolley of refreshments. He handed Salaar a cup of black coffee, knowing his preference well.

"Sir Baqir is our sports teacher," Fahad answered, offering a pastry to Jawad, who took it without hesitation.

"I've told you before, I'm not interested in sports here," Salaar replied firmly while sipping his black coffee.

"Oh, come on, at least meet him once. He's a teacher; you can't just turn him down like that," Fahad advised, diving back into the food in front of him. Meanwhile, Jawad, still impressed, continued to enjoy his meal while gazing at the surroundings.