Chapter 12: The beginning of another thriller
A Few Days Later
Dressed in a light-colored long kurta with matching trousers and a matching dupatta, Zahra sat quietly on a chair in the lawn, lost in thought. Her hair was tied into a loose bun, with one strand falling gracefully across her face and another resting against her neck.
Just then, Kashaf walked into the lawn. She was wearing a pink shirt with a white shalwar and a white dupatta draped over her shoulders. Her hair was tied into a bun, and she was holding Anaya's hand.
As soon as they entered the lawn, Kashaf let go of Anaya's hand, allowing the little girl to run off and play. She then sat on the chair beside Zahra.
Kashaf: “Zahra, what are you so lost in thought about?”
Zahra: “Nothing, really.”
Kashaf: “Did you talk to Sir?”
Zahra: “Yes... but it seemed like he didn't want to discuss what happened that day.”
Kashaf: “Tell me.”
A Few Days Earlier
Dressed in brown with her matching dupatta wrapped in her usual elegant style, Zahra looked as graceful and dignified as ever.
A beautiful silver ring now adorned the middle finger of her left hand. She had bought it herself. Its delicate engraved design was subtle and could only be noticed upon close inspection.
As she entered the university, she saw Sir Sarwar walking toward her. He wore a grey shirt, black jeans, brown shoes, and a black watch on his right wrist. His neatly styled hair and composed appearance made him someone people couldn't help but look at twice.
Zahra: “Assalamu Alaikum, Sir.”
Sarwar Mustafa: “Wa Alaikum Assalam.”
Zahra: “How are you, Sir?”
Sarwar Mustafa: “Alhamdulillah.”
For a brief moment, silence settled between them before his deep voice broke it once again.
Sarwar Mustafa: “Alhamdulillah.”
From his tone, Zahra understood that he had no intention of talking about the incident that had occurred that day. They exchanged a few words about university work before Zahra headed to her classroom and Sir Sarwar returned to his office.
Present Day
Zahra: “That's all that happened. What about Jafar's marriage proposal?”
Kashaf: “Jafar's mother said that his life is in danger because of some people. His father has sent him abroad, and they can no longer proceed with the proposal. They've apologized.”
Zahra: “I told you this marriage would never happen. I have complete faith in Allah and in the certainty He places in my heart.”
Kashaf: “Alright, I believe you.”
Zahra: “You should.”
Kashaf: “But how do you trust your intuition so much?”
Zahra: “I don't trust my intuition—I trust Allah. He has never wronged me, and He never will.”
Zahra: “If nothing has happened, then why should I investigate it?”
Kashaf: “Zahra, I don't want to become suspicious of Fajr.”
Zahra: “Alright. I'll talk to Hania after a while. Don't worry.”
Kashaf: “Okay, I'm going inside now.”
Zahra: “Will you have some tea?”
Kashaf: “Yes, definitely.”
As Kashaf was about to sit down again, Zahra suppressed a smile and said,
Zahra: “Then go and make it.”
Kashaf pouted.
Kashaf: “Go die, Zahra.”
Zahra: “The day I die, you'll be the one sitting at my funeral crying the most.”
Kashaf: “God forbid! Just because I asked you to make tea, you've started talking about dying.”
Zahra: “I'm just saying that the day I die, everyone will suddenly realize how dear I was.”
Kashaf: “That's not a good thing to say.”
Zahra smiled faintly.
Zahra: “What's the use of a love that's shown only after someone is gone? That's not love—it's regret. Regret for the wrongs we did and the way we treated them. We think people cry because someone has died, but in reality, many of them are crying for themselves.”
Kashaf: “So you're saying people fake their tears?”
Zahra: “When did I say that?”
Kashaf: “You just said they don't cry for the person who died.”
Zahra: “Kashaf, at least let me finish what I'm saying.”
Kashaf: “Alright, go on.”
Zahra: “Some people genuinely grieve when someone passes away. They sincerely pray for the deceased's forgiveness. But there are also people who become afraid because they know they treated that person badly. They regret their mistakes, yet they no longer have the chance to make things right. They're less worried about the deceased's deeds than about their own, fearing that if the deceased was truly righteous, their own accountability before Allah will be much harder.”
Kashaf: “I see.”
Zahra: “Do you understand now?”
Kashaf: “Yes... but how can we tell who's sincere and who's not?”
Zahra: “You can often tell by observing people.”
Kashaf: “Everyone behaves differently. How can we know whether someone is genuine or not?”
Zahra: “Kashaf, no matter how good a person is, they'll always be the villain in someone's story. We shouldn't judge whether a person is good or bad based on what others say. What matters is how they treat us.”
Kashaf: “What do you mean?”
Zahra: “Haven't you heard the saying, 'The man who has no enemies is the greatest hypocrite'?”
Kashaf: “Alright, but we still left our discussion about sincerity unfinished.”
Zahra: “That's exactly my point. We shouldn't judge people solely by their reputation. We should judge them by how they behave with us.”
Kashaf: “Now I understand.”
Zahra: “Good. Now go and make the tea.”
Kashaf glared at her.
Kashaf: “Fine! I'm going.”
Zahra: “That's better.”
Kashaf: “You're so good at making tea—that's why I keep asking you.”
Zahra: “Don't praise me so much. I might actually become arrogant.”
Kashaf: “If you become arrogant, who's going to make tea for me?”
Zahra: “You're unbelievably selfish, Kashaf. You never compliment me after drinking the tea.”
Kashaf: “Come on, in times of need, people even call a donkey their father.”
Zahra: “Allah will hold you accountable for that.”
A little while later, Zahra returned carrying a tray with two mugs of tea. The two friends sat together and enjoyed their tea.
Afterward, Zahra called Hania.
Hania had been Zahra's college friend. Fajr didn't know her, which made Hania someone Zahra could trust. They had been close friends, although after college Hania's family had moved to Islamabad. Hania's elder brother, Ibrahim, worked in the police department.
Zahra: “Assalamu Alaikum, Hania.”
Hania: “Wa Alaikum Assalam.”
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Zahra came to the point.
Zahra: “Hania, I'm going to send you a phone number. Could you ask Ibrahim bhai to find out all the details about it?”
Hania: “Of course I can, but is everything alright?”
Zahra: “Yes, don't worry. I just need information about the owner of this number, its call records, messages, and anything else that can be obtained.”
Hania: “Alright. I'll speak to Ibrahim bhai.”
Zahra: “Please ask him to do it as soon as possible.”
Hania: “Sure. He's out right now, but he'll be back tonight. I'll tell him then.”
Zahra: “Thank you so much, Hania.”
Hania: “Don't mention it, Zahra. You're like a sister to me.”
Zahra: “Thank you. Just make sure no one else finds out about this.”
Hania: “You don't even need to say that. I won't tell anyone.”
Zahra: “Thank you again.”
Hania: “One more thing, Zahra. My brother has been very busy lately, so it might take two or three days.”
Zahra: “That's perfectly fine. Whenever you get the information, just email it to me.”
Hania: “Alright.”
They ended the call after saying goodbye.
The moment Zahra hung up, Kashaf began asking her countless questions about the conversation. Zahra eventually told her everything she had discussed with Hania.
Now, all they could do was wait for Hania's email.
Later
After returning home from the university, Zahra learned from Kashaf that Fajr had fainted after she left. When Fajr was taken to the hospital, everyone discovered that she was pregnant. The entire family was overjoyed by the news.
That same evening, Zahra received an email from Hania. She did not even open it. In her mind, everything had been nothing more than a misunderstanding. Now that such great happiness was about to enter their home, she did not want a small suspicion to ruin it. Everyone was happy, and she wanted that happiness to remain intact.
So she decided not to read the email.
Everything seemed perfect—except for one thing.
Her conscience.
A conscience is rarely wrong, yet this time Zahra chose to silence hers. The wind had whispered the truth to her, but how often do people truly listen to the whispers of the wind?
A Few Months Later
Hadi stood dressed in a white shalwar kameez. His eyes were red with rage, as though he had been screaming for hours. Fajr sat silently before him while Zahra stood nearby. Their mother kept trying to calm Hadi down.
Hadi: “Fajr, I'm asking you one last time... what is this?”
Fajr: “Hadi... who gave this to you?”
Hadi's voice was merciless, while Fajr's was calm but firm.
Mother: “Hadi, enough.”
Ignoring her, Hadi played a video on his phone.
The video showed Fajr sitting with a young man. Later, they were seen standing outside a doctor's office. Inside, Fajr was asking the doctor for medicine that would end her pregnancy. The doctor advised her to undergo an abortion, but she insisted on medicine that would terminate the baby without anyone suspecting a thing.
Hadi handed the phone to Zahra.
The moment she saw the video, she recognized it.
She herself had recorded it a few days earlier.
A Few Days Earlier
One evening, Zahra was dressed in a white abaya with a matching hijab and face veil. She looked as graceful and dignified as always.
She was heading to the market. After placing some money inside her phone case—a habit her mother constantly scolded her for—she slipped the phone into her abaya pocket.
Her mother was visiting relatives.
Hadi and Ayan Ahmad had gone out of town on business.
Fajr had been away from home since morning, supposedly spending the day with a friend. She was never allowed to go out alone because everyone cared deeply for both her and the unborn child. They tried to provide her with everything she needed.
After finishing her shopping, Zahra grew hungry and stopped at a restaurant to buy food for herself, Kashaf, and Inaya.
The restaurant was crowded, so the manager asked her to wait upstairs.
As she reached the upper floor, she froze.
In the corner sat Fajr.
Across from her was none other than Jafar—the same man who had once frightened Zahra, grabbed her hand, and sent threatening messages.
For a moment, she couldn't move.
Feeling that someone might notice her, she quickly looked around before secretly taking a photograph of them with her phone.
She did not want to send it to Hadi.
She wanted to ask Fajr about it herself first.
Returning to her car, she waited.
Soon afterward, Fajr and Jafar walked out together.
Both were dressed in black.
They got into the same car. Fajr opened her own door.
Zahra remembered how Hadi had always opened every door for Fajr himself—whether it was the house door, the car door, or even the entrance to a shopping mall.
Her heart tightened.
She started her car and quietly followed them, keeping a safe distance.
Eventually, they stopped at a hospital.
Zahra parked nearby and followed them inside.
When she saw them enter a doctor's office, she immediately understood why Fajr had come there.
She secretly recorded another video before returning to her car.
The moment she sat down, she burst into tears.
Someone was trying to kill the child her beloved brother had been waiting for.
Her tears soaked her veil.
She felt as though someone had squeezed the life out of her heart.
Hadi loved children deeply. Once, when Zahra had collapsed from illness, he had carried her to the hospital in his own arms and had not eaten until she regained consciousness.
How much more would he love his own child?
That thought shattered her.
Hadi was never expressive. He never spoke about his pain.
He simply remained silent.
But did silent people not suffer?
She asked herself.
Of course they did.
They had hearts.
They had emotions.
They loved just as deeply as anyone else.
The only difference was that they endured their pain quietly.
Why, then, did people never pity them?
Why did no one see them as human?
She knew that if Hadi ever discovered the truth, he would not create a scene.
He would simply break inside.
And sometimes, breaking silently is the cruelest pain of all.
She decided she would speak to Fajr herself.
Wiping away her tears, she drove home.
That Evening
Zahra entered Fajr's room.
She looked beautiful as always, dressed in a blue frock with matching trousers and dupatta. Yet her large dark eyes were filled with anxiety. She kept absentmindedly removing and putting back on the silver ring she wore on the middle finger of her left hand.
Fajr sat on the bed wearing a green frock with a matching dupatta and white trousers.
"Come in," she said, making room beside her.
Zahra sat facing her, hiding every emotion inside her heart.
Zahra: “How are you, Fajr?”
Fajr: “I'm fine. How are you?”
Zahra: “I'm fine too.”
Fajr immediately sensed something different in Zahra's behavior.
Zahra: “Where were you all day today?”
Fajr: “I told you—I was with Javeria.”
She mentioned the name of their mutual friend.
Zahra: “I spoke to Javeria. She said you weren't with her.”
Fajr's expression changed.
Fajr: “What do you mean? Do you suspect me? Were you spying on me? What exactly are you trying to prove?”
Her voice rose slightly.
Zahra: “I wasn't spying on you. I needed to talk to you. When you didn't answer your phone, I called Javeria.”
Fajr looked visibly uneasy.
Zahra's face remained calm.
Fajr: “Oh... yes. I went shopping first, then visited Javeria. Maybe you called her before I reached there.”
Her voice softened again.
Zahra's heart broke even more.
She couldn't believe Fajr was looking straight into her eyes and lying.
Zahra: “Alright. I'll leave now.”
As Zahra stood up, Fajr said quietly,
Fajr: “Zahra... I'm sorry. I was upset earlier, that's why I spoke to you so harshly.”
Zahra: “It's alright. I didn't mind.”
Zahra walked to the door.
Just before leaving, she turned around.
Fajr was still looking at her.
Zahra said only one sentence…
...and walked out without waiting for an answer.
For the next several days, neither of them spoke to the other.