Chapter Eighteen

Zahid was overprotective. No, this wasn't something you noticed right away and it had taken Amal some time to deduce this part of his character. In his gentle manner, Zahid always went out of his way for the sake of people he cared about. He would volunteer to drop Amal to places she could go herself, and if he was out at work, he would call at least a couple of times to make sure that she was okay.

His frequent calls to his aunt, making sure that she was taking her medicines and what-not. Zahid did not have too many people in his life, but he cared a bit too much about the few he did.

Lately, though, he was getting worse. Amal sensed the constant tension Zahid lived with, asking her to tell him if she went out of the house, keep the door locked at all times, and not to open it for anybody. While Amal did not usually mind his protectiveness, things seemed to be getting out of hand.

"Er... where to, Bhabi?"

Blinking at Harris who peered at her from the rear-view-mirror, Amal ignored the urge to groan.

"Coffee Time." The cafe that is literally two streets away from our house, more like, she thought to herself, amazed at how Zahid had managed to send Harris to be her chauffeur on a five-minute-notice. At times, Amal could not help but pity Harris.

Thinking of how she could have, very well, walked to the cafe, Amal's thoughts were again distracted by Harris. "Zahid would have come himself, but he is out of town on some work-related business."

Struggling to maintain a straight face at how Harris was defending her husband, Amal nodded. As expected, they arrived at the cafe in mere minutes, and Amal thanked Harris. She was just about to get off when he spoke.

"I think you should stay here until your friend arrives." When Amal glanced at him from the rear-view mirror, Harris raised his hands, looking just as embarrassed at the whole ordeal. "Zahid asked me to."

Frowning, Amal slumped back in her seat, mentally thinking about all of the things Zahid needed to hear from her. She wasn't a child, and Zahid had surely been treating her as such lately!

A couple of minutes trickled by, Amal impatiently tapping her fingers on the phone. The thought of calling Maham had only just crossed her mind, when, as if on cue, the car door opened and the very girl got in, looking flushed.

Amal and Harris blinked, watching as she lowered her bag, slightly out-of-breath. "God, I'm so glad you're still in the car. I only just peeked inside but a whole group of girls from my university is in there. Let's go somewhere else."

Before Amal could respond, Maham had turned towards Harris. "Bhaiyya, please go down the block." Turning towards Amal, she grinned, "There's another cafe down there."

Amal's eyes widened, realizing that Maham had taken Harris to be an Uber driver, but before she could correct her, Harris had already started the car, his gaze lowered, and a hint of a smile on his face. Amal's brow shot up at Harris's silence, and while Maham rambled on about her university, she too remained quiet.

Ten minutes later, Amal was howling with laughter, sitting in the cafe with Maham, who looked utterly horrified.

"He wasn't the Uber driver?" she breathed out, and when Amal nodded, grinning a bit too widely, Maham slumped down in her seat, covering her face with her hands. "Oh my Allah, that is so embarrassing! Why in the world would your husband's friend drop you off to a cafe that is literally seven minutes from your house?!"

~~~

The sun's immense light was hurting his eyes and Zahid raised a hand, trying to shield himself from the light. He had been standing like this in the sweltering heat of the sun for the past fifteen minutes, and while sweat trickled down his forehead, his shirt sticking to his back, Zahid showed no signs of movement.

He was standing in front of Shamoor Waheed's house; a man he had learned both worked for Shahid Raza and was closely acquainted with Syed. A number of events had led Zahid here. Firstly, Harris had found the street vendor they had seen in the CCTV footage. While the old man had refused to say anything in the beginning, the assurance that they were no thugs and meant him no harm had loosened him up a bit, and he had told them about some of the men he had seen throwing Syed's body off that day.

While their faces were blurry in the vendor's memory, he vividly recalled one of the men having a limp. After that one lead, things had suddenly turned in favor of them. Upon hearing what the street vendor had said, Samra Syed had informed them that this man with a limp was a close acquaintance of Syed's. He was also amongst the people she had given Zahid a list of, and according to Samra, this man had even considered leaving Shahid Raza's work alongside Syed.

Zahid had clasped at this information and was now standing in front of the man's house, even after having the door slammed upon his face once. He pressed the bell again, just as the door opened. Shamoor stood at the door, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you going to move from here or should I call the police?"

"Mr. Waheed, I would really appreciate it if you give me some of your time-"

"There's nothing I want to say or hear from you. Stop wasting your time." As Shamoor moved to close the door once again, Zahid stepped forward, his hand on the door.

"We have a witness against you."

Shamoor froze and Zahid took another step forward. "Someone saw you the day you threw Syed's body in the alleyway."

"You're lying." All of the color had drained from Shamoor's face.

"The man confirmed your identity when a picture was shown to him. No, sir, I'm not lying."

For a second, Zahid saw the panic that flashed across Shamoor's face. "What are you here for, then?" Shamoor snapped, "To tell me that I'm going to jail?"

"No. It's obvious that you'll get punished for your involvement in the murder, but your sentence would be reduced greatly if you stand as a witness against Shahid Raza." Shamoor inhaled sharply at the mention of Raza but Zahid remained firm, "I'm here to request you to speak the truth."

Shamoor looked at Zahid as if he said something in an alien tongue. "And end up the same way the fool Syed did? Even worse- put my family in danger? I think I'll pass-"

"That's the thing!" Zahid pressed, "If we can prove that Raza is the murderer, you won't have to live in fear. Raza would get punished and his threats would mean nothing-"

"Are you sure you hear what you're saying? The Shahid Raza getting punished?" Shamoor smiled bitterly. "You're wasting your time here, Mr. Naveed."

As Shamoor moved to close the door once again, Zahid's fists clenched, and he put his hand on the door once again. "Can I say one more thing?" Something flashed across Zahid's eyes. "You got so scared when you heard that a man had witnessed your crime. I wonder if you felt the same knowing that Allah was watching you."

Leaving Shamoor still standing at the door, Zahid turned around and walked away.

~~~

"That's creepy. Did you ask her about it?"

Amal looked at Maham pointedly. "Of course not! What should I have said? Er... ma'am, I was looking around for the TV remote in your drawers when I came across an obsessively large amount of newspaper clippings with Shahid Raza's name on them. May I ask you what your relationship with Raza is?"

Grinning slightly at the thought of Amal actually saying that to her neighbor, Maham shook her head. "You're right. That would've been stupid. You didn't question her at all, then?"

"The next day, when we met at the park, I mentioned Shahid Raza's name, and she got really pale. There is obviously something up."

Maham nodded, about to say something when the TV in the cafe took her attention. Both Amal and Maham looked at the screen, watching as Shahid Raza stepped out of his car, a hundred or so reporters around him. The questions of the reporters echoed around as they tried to bring their mike towards Shahid Raza who looked eminently calm.

To date, no worldly power had been able to cause harm to this man. In his posture, the way he walked upon the earth as if it was his own; there was arrogance. Yet, his tongue was skilled in the art of deception. Raza could say the vilest of things and make them sound like honey; he could spread hate in languages that sounded beautiful to the ears.

As the reports asked him regarding his feelings about having to appear in court again, Raza smiled. Watching him, Amal's fists clenched. He had the nerve to smile!

"I have once proved my innocence in court, and by the will of God, I will prove it once again. Appearing in court again is completely unnecessary but if that is what it takes for me to attest to my people that I'm innocent of such hideous crimes, then so be it. I apologize for any trouble I might have caused anyone with this news."

"Innocent. Ha!" Amal swallowed her disgust, shaking her head and tearing her gaze away from the screen.

"He's innocent only because he is a politician with connections and money. If some poor man had murdered someone, he would have been hanged right away," Maham said spitefully, and Amal nodded.

The question was: what in the world did Hafsa- her nice neighbor, have to do with a man as vile as Shahid Raza?

~~~

By the time Zahid reached his law firm, his thoughts were a muddled mess. While he did have some sort of a lead, Zahid knew that it was not yet strong enough. Without a clear witness against Shahid Raza, no real action could be taken.

Running a hand through his hair as he made his way inside, Zahid racked his brain, searching for any other way he could prove Raza's involvement in the murder. He was slowly analyzing each clue or step that he could take, making his way towards his office- when he noticed a brown envelope on the lobby desk.

Zahid stopped short, frowning. Wondering who had put the envelope here, he picked it up, the lack of a name and address on the envelope only adding to his confusion. His brows drawn together, Zahid opened the envelope. Instead of a letter, two photographs fell out.

As Zahid's gaze fell on the first photo, something dropped in the pit of his stomach and his eyes widened. It was the second photo, however, that sent a jolt of shock through him and all of the color drained from his face. 

With a tremor of his hands, the photographs fell to the floor, and in a flash, Zahid was rushing back to his car. As the lobby door swung close behind him, the two photographs lay on the floor.

The first one was of his house; the all too familiar brown gate undeniably recognizable. The second was taken from a similar angle. It showed his house- but this time, there was someone standing in front of the gate, opening the door.

It was Amal. 

Dun Dun Duunn.

Assalamualaykum, folks. 

Writing Harris as Amal's chaffeur and Zahid at Shamoor's house was so much fun. Hope you liked it as well? The next chapter is truly an emotional roller-coaster ride. 

If you liked the chapter, consider leaving it a vote, and do let me know what you think! 

Jazakillah!