Chapter Seventeen

"Am I talking to Mr. Azhar?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Assalamualaikum Mr. Azhar, I got your number from Mrs. Syed-"

Beep. Beep.

A sigh escaping his lips, Zahid lowered the phone receiver, cutting the fourth name in the list of people who were closely acquainted with Syed Manzoor during the time he worked with Shahid Raza.

"No luck?" Harris asked, lowering his phone as well. "None on my side either."

"Not one person responded from your list?" Zahid asked, but as expected, Harris shook his head.

"Three of them cut the call when I mentioned Syed, and two did not pick up."

Apparently, this plan had not worked out either. What had Zahid expected anyways? A sign of humanity in a world that was overruled by hate and fear?

Zahid ran a hand over his face, trying to ignore the helplessness that was beginning to build up. There has to be a way, he told himself, I can't be losing hope already. With a determined nod, he looked up at Harris. "Try calling the two numbers who didn't pick up after some time. We might get some sort of a response."

Harris looked like he rather disagreed, but he nodded none-the-less. "Till then, I'll take a look at the CCTV footage again." As Zahid opened up his laptop, Harris turned on the television, frowning when the news channels blared with Shahid Raza's name. The news that Samra Syed's appeal had been accepted had leaked out and was now causing quite a ruckus.

"Let's just hope nobody finds out about our law firm," Harris muttered, turning off the TV and getting back to work.

Zahid nodded briefly, opening up the CCTV footage Harris had gotten from the police file. He had watched the footage several times; and as Harris had said, it was not beneficial at all. Around five in the morning, a van could be seen stopping by the alleyway where Syed's body was found and five minutes later, it had driven away. Hoping for some sort of a clue, Zahid watched the footage again, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pay attention to all of the details.

For the first two times, Zahid failed to spot anything, but the third time- he saw a figure near the alleyway. Straightening up in his seat, Zahid rewinded a couple of seconds, pausing at the scene. It was a street vendor; Zahid was sure of it. He had a horse cart with him, one which he probably used to sell some sort of vegetable or fruit.

"Harris, look at this," Zahid muttered, already having taken a screenshot. Harris walked over, leaning over Zahid's shoulder to look at the screen.

"How is this going to help us though?" Harris asked, glancing at Zahid whose eyebrows were drawn together.

"The man might have seen something. I doubt if it's anything of importance, but any clue can help us at the moment. We need some sort of a lead that can help us prove Shahid Raza's involvement in the case."

"How about this? The crime scene is not too far away from my town so I'll go see if I can find the street vendor on my way back home."

"Perfect," Zahid nodded, "Till then, I'll try to contact the two people from our list."

Harris was about to return to his seat when the bell rang outside. Sharing looks with Zahid, Harris shrugged. "No idea," he muttered, already leaving for the lobby. As Harris left, Zahid's gaze returned to his laptop screen.

If only they could get some valuable information from this man, Zahid thought to himself, though he doubted it. Still, it wasn't like they had a lot of options.

Zahid had only just closed his laptop when Harris returned, a frown on his face. "There is a guy out there who wants to meet you. He introduced himself as Faaris Rehman."

"Faaris?"

Harris pursed his lips, looking at Zahid knowingly. "He's Shahid Raza's secretary."

~~~

"I've put the kids to bed for an afternoon nap so you don't need to worry. Even if they wake up, I don't expect them to cause much trouble. Still, call me if anything goes wrong. I'll be home in three hours, max," Hafsa explained, "I am so sorry for troubling you like this, Amal. I keep on forgetting to get the key made."

"I don't mind at all," Amal smiled politely, "I did not have much to do at home anyways."

"Jazakillah dear," Hafsa grabbed her bag, swinging it over her shoulder, "Make yourself at home, alright? Feel free to access the fridge as well. I truly owe you."

Waving at Amal, Hafsa rushed off, leaving Amal to look around her neighbor's house, bubbling a little with excitement at this strange adventure.

Hafsa was a single mother; still in her late twenties. Amal had first met her in the town park, and had immediately taken a liking to this fervent young woman who both worked and looked after her kids completely on her own, and yet- she did it with a smile of such patience on her face, nobody could have imagined how difficult her life really was.

When her neighbor, and now- a good acquaintance had suddenly appeared at her door, looking feverish and asking her for a favor, Amal did not have it in herself to deny.

Despite Hafsa's patience and strength, she could be quite forgetful, and being able to relate to Hafsa quite well, Amal decided to help her neighbor out.

Now, realizing that she had ended up in a house/babysitting task without any context, Amal found herself in a dilemma. It took her a huge deal of strength to stop herself from peeking into Hafsa's fridge.

A ting of her phone successfully distracted her from her rumbling stomach and Amal turned on her phone, her eyes widening when she noticed that she had gotten an email from one of the magazine companies she had contacted. The knots tightened in her stomach and with a sharp intake of breath, Amal clicked on the email.

Respected Miss Amal Hussain,

Thank you for contacting us in regards to your article. We have gone through it and while it is well-written, we do not consider it suitable for our newspaper. It is too blunt for our liking.

Apologies,

The Daily News.

Amal's heart dropped. This was the third rejection she had faced this week. Too blunt for our liking, she read again, her eyes narrowing.

The mention of Raza's name in her article made it blunt. Of course. What did Amal expect? Nobody would publicly speak against Shahid Raza. Despite knowing this, Amal did not have it in her to stop herself from mentioning his name. The spark of rebellion in her would flare and Amal would write what her heart said, for why- why must she be indirect in matters that were clear as glass, while the society around her declared with such conviction, matters that were obvious lies?

When people had spread rumors about Amal, a large number had actually believed them, and surviving with people saying such stuff behind her back was in no way easy. If the society raised no voice against people who quite bluntly spread lies, then why did it have a problem with being blunt about the truth.

Throwing her phone down on the sofa, Amal threaded a hand through her hair, helplessness taking over her form.

She had been trying non-stop to help Zahid in any way she could, but the society was putting far too many hurdles in her way. These past few days, everything Amal wrote was related to Zahid's case. Her heart reached out to Zahid, for while he did not let it show, Amal could sense the boulder upon his shoulder.

And yet, he tried so hard to appear calm for her sake. She remembered still, of how touched he had been when he had seen her cake. All of the hollowness in her heart had disappeared at once, and though Zahid wasn't as big on sweets and desserts as Amal was, he refused to eat anything else for dinner.

Sitting now, on a stranger's sofa, with nothing to do and a mind full of troubling thoughts, Amal found herself looking for a distraction. Deciding that she could watch T.V, Amal looked around for the remote. She was checking through the drawers in the living room when something in the bottom drawer caught her eye.

Amal opened the drawer further. Newspaper and magazine clippings were piled up in the drawer, and curiosity getting the better of her, Amal's eyebrows furrowed as she took them out. Her heartbeat escalated as she went through the pile, spotting the one constant in each and every one of them: 

Shahid Raza.

~~~

He knew this would happen. He feared this would happen, rather, but Zahid could not have fathomed that it would happen this quickly. His hands clasped around the steering wheel, Zahid stopped the car in front of his house. He could see that the living room light was on but Zahid did not have the strength to step out of his car.

"You know why I'm here, Mr. Zahid," Faaris had said, a sickening smile on his face. When Zahid had only just narrowed his eyes, Faaris had leaned forward, "I'm here to strike a deal with you."

Bribery.

Bloody, damned bribery! The sum Faaris had mentioned had been so huge, Zahid had been taken aback for a fraction of a second.

"All we need is your cooperation, Mr. Zahid, and you can get anything you want in return," Faaris had said jestingly, fiddling with the pen-holder on Zahid's table. The playfulness and casualness with which he spoke was enough proof that this was not the first time he was doing this

"I want you to leave," Zahid had said, his voice curt.

Clearly, Faaris had been taken aback at Zahid's response. He had done this hundreds of times but had not gotten such a curt response even once. Faaris had tried to negotiate by increasing the sum, offering things other than money, but Zahid had not faltered, commanding him to leave his office.

Bribery was a sin. It was illegal. Throughout his years working as a lawyer, Zahid had, on many occasions, dealt with bribery. It was a common practice when it came to such professions, but people were never as direct. Every time he would be offered bribery, Zahid would tell himself that these people were supposed to be pitied, they did not know how to work fairly. At times, he would feel angry too.

This was the first time an offer of bribery made him fearful.

"I preferred dealing with you the easy way," Faaris had said before leaving, "You're going to regret this later on."

Squeezing his eyes shut, sudden helplessness taking over his form, Zahid rested his forehead against the steering wheel. "Hasbunallahu wa ni'mal wakeel, [And Allah alone is sufficient for me and He is the best disposer of affairs.]", he recited under his breath again and again, till his uneasy heartbeat fell in line with the melody of the words.

Knock. Knock.

Zahid looked up, surprised to find Amal looking through the car window. Noticing that she was holding onto Eddie, Zahid connected the dots. He forced himself to look more composed than he actually felt. Inhaling sharply, Zahid opened the door and stepped out.

"Assalamualaikum," he said, trying to ignore Amal's searching gaze and directing his attention towards the feline in Amal's arms. "Did Eddie run out again?"

Amal nodded, muttering back her salam as she gazed at Zahid expectantly. When he did not say anything, Amal spoke up. "Is everything alright? You looked troubled."

During their initial stages of bonding, both Amal and Zahid had decided that they wouldn't keep things from each other. That night, Zahid broke the rule for the first time.

"Everything is fine," he said, forcing a smile on his face. Amal blinked, doubtful- but before she could say anything, Zahid grabbed her hand. "Let's go inside, shall we? Eddie looks sleepy."

It was a lousy excuse and if Zahid had expected Amal to fall for it, he was only just fooling himself. Amal might not have been as observant as Zahid was but she could read people; and she could read the people she cared about exceptionally well.

Amal could sense Zahid's distress, but she let him think that he had her fooled. He's probably worried about the case, she told herself, letting him tug her hand and lead her inside.

How come he can't share his worries with you? Her heart throbbed inside her chest, but Amal could not bring herself to say anything. He's probably doing it because he does not want to worry you- her heart argued and so Amal forced a smile on her face as well. She, too, swallowed her words, deciding not to tell him about the newspaper clippings she had found in Hafsa's house.

Two souls playing pretend with each other, their own hearts breaking behind their masks. Two souls... clearly seeing the pain in each other's eyes. Who the hell were they fooling?

Assalamualaykum. 

Things are getting slightly more intense now, and I'm enjoying it quite a lot.  

What do you guys make of the newspaper clippings in Hafsa's house? Oh, and to all those people who were after me to do something about the cake ( Puppypuff3 and kaNisar, yes, I am looking at you) I hope you're satisfied. XD

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think, and if you liked the chapter, do consider leaving it a vote.