Chapter 11: Mystery of proposal

A Few Days Later

Zahra learned that Sir Sarwar had come to the university despite being unwell. He had a high fever. His eyes were swollen, and it was difficult for him to speak.

When she saw the redness in his eyes, her heart ached. For the first time in her life, she wished he wouldn't talk at all. She wanted him to rest. The redness in his eyes caused her more pain than it seemed to cause him.

Why?

Zahra had no answer.

Some questions never receive answers, and those unanswered questions leave a person feeling incomplete.

For the first time in her life, she wished he would stay away from her—not because she disliked him, but because seeing him suffer was unbearable.

At that moment, she finally understood the meaning of love.

Yet she couldn't even admit it to herself.

The pain of the beloved often hurts the one who loves more than it hurts the beloved himself.

Zahra realized she had been struck by the greatest illness of her life.

Love itself is not an illness.

The real illness is not being able to be with the one you love.

She felt deep compassion for Sir Sarwar while refusing to give her feelings the name of love.

Sir Sarwar remained absent from the university for several days.

As time passed, Zahra began to miss him. Sitting alone at the university, she remembered his light blue eyes—eyes that had been reddened with fever.

The pain that Sir Sarwar himself had probably not felt was felt by Zahra's heart.

She was already troubled by family matters, and now thoughts of Sir Sarwar weighed on her as well.

One day, while sitting alone in the university corridor, tears quietly flowed beneath her niqab.

After some time, she heard someone call her name.

She would have recognized that voice even among thousands.

It was Sir Sarwar.

He stood before her wearing an orange shirt with blue jeans. He looked much healthier than before.

But Zahra's eyes were still red from crying, and even her niqab had become damp with tears.

Their eyes met.

Sir Sarwar spoke to her briefly before walking away.

His departure reminded Zahra of their last meeting—he had left just as quickly then as well.

A Few Weeks Later

Hadi and Fajr had been arguing frequently, and their mother's health had deteriorated. Because of this, Kashaf had come to stay at the house.

She had also noticed how quiet Zahra had become.

One day, the two sisters were sitting together in their room.

Kashaf: “Zahra, what's wrong? You've become so quiet.”

Zahra: “Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?”

Kashaf: “Since when have you started hiding things from me?”

Kashaf stood up, hugged Zahra tightly, and Zahra finally broke down in tears.

Crying, she told Kashaf everything.

Her love was no longer a secret.

Kashaf: “Zahra, this is only an attraction. You simply admire his personality.”

Zahra: “Kashaf... I don't just like him. I love him.”

Kashaf: “Is there really a difference between liking someone and loving them?”

Zahra: "A huge difference.

Liking someone has a reason.

Love has no reason at all."

Kashaf: “What do you mean?”

Zahra: "When you like someone, there's always a reason—for example, we love our parents because they gave us life, raised us, and fulfilled our dreams.

But true love doesn't need a reason.

It simply happens.

Just as I love him."

She paused before continuing.

"And in love, it isn't necessary that the other person loves you back or even treats you well.

Very often, the beloved is the one who hurts you the most."

Kashaf: “Where did you learn to speak like this?”

Zahra: “I don't know... the words just came from my heart.”

Kashaf: “Is love really such a terrible thing?”

Zahra: “Who told you love is terrible?”

Kashaf: “Isn't it?”

Zahra: "Love is beautiful—as long as it remains within its limits.

Once it crosses those limits, nothing becomes more destructive."

Kashaf: “And what are those limits?”

Zahra: “As long as love remains pure.”

Kashaf: “Can love become impure?”

Zahra: "Love itself is always pure.

People are the ones who make it impure."

Kashaf: “How?”

Zahra: "Love doesn't mean forcing someone to become yours.

If someone says no, their decision should be respected.

But some people let their ego take over. They can't bear rejection, so they resort to cheap tricks just to possess the person they claim to love.

And then they call that love."

Kashaf: “When did you become so wise?”

Zahra: “The day I fell in love.”

carefully.

Kashaf: “Zahra... why are you speaking so openly about all this today?”

A faint shimmer of tears appeared in Zahra's eyes, though she hid them well.

Zahra: “Kashaf... falling in love with him was never in my control. Allah placed this softness for him in my heart. The only thing that was within my control was not allowing this love to grow any deeper.”

Kashaf: “But a moment ago you said loving him wasn't in your control.”

Zahra: “It wasn't. Falling in love wasn't my choice. But whether I let that love continue growing—that is my responsibility. Even now, I cannot say with complete certainty that what I feel is truly love.”

Kashaf: “But you just said you love him.”

Zahra: "Sometimes he and I disagree. Sometimes neither of us apologizes. It's not that I can never apologize... it's just that I get tired whenever he stops talking to me. Yet neither of us says 'sorry.' Instead, one of us simply starts another conversation or quietly admits, 'It was my mistake. It won't happen again.'

Sometimes I feel that he deliberately teases me just to annoy me, and then I refuse to give in.

I can't decide between my love... and my self-respect."

Kashaf: “Why can't you keep both?”

Zahra: “You wouldn't understand.”

Kashaf: “Then make me understand.”

Zahra: “To gain something, you have to lose something. If I choose my love, he'll keep teasing me because he knows I'll always come back. But if I choose my self-respect, distance will grow between us.”

Kashaf: “What makes you so sure that you're really in love with him?”

Zahra lowered her gaze.

Zahra: "Because he's the last thought that comes to my mind every night... and the very first thought I have every morning.

His pain hurts me.

Seeing him makes me happy.

And before I pray for myself, I pray for him."

Kashaf: “Is that the only reason?”

Zahra: "No... not at all.

No one has ever meant this much to me before.

So why him?"

Kashaf: “If he's that important, then why don't you choose him?”

After a long silence, Zahra answered quietly,

“There's only one reason...”

Kashaf: “One reason can't be that important. Are you really prepared to lose him because of it?”

Zahra: “That reason isn't small, Kashaf. Please... don't ask me about it. I don't want to discuss it.”

Kashaf: “Alright. As you wish.”

Only Zahra knew that the reason wasn't small at all.

That reason was her intuition—the inner certainty she had always trusted.

After a few moments, Kashaf asked softly,

“Will you ever be able to forget him?”

Zahra smiled sadly.

“A person never forgets their first love.”

Sensing that the atmosphere had become too emotional, Kashaf stood up and said,

“Come on. Let's go eat.”

The two sisters left the room together.

The Next Day

When Zahra returned from the university, she noticed Kashaf looked unusually worried.

Kashaf said,

“Freshen up first. Then I need to tell you something.”

Zahra changed into a black outfit with a maroon dupatta. She untied her long, silky black hair and stood before the mirror, combing it slowly. Her hair fell below her waist, making her look exceptionally beautiful.

Just then, Kashaf entered the room. She was wearing a purple suit with a white dupatta, her hair tied neatly in a ponytail.

Zahra: “Alright, Kashaf. What is it?”

Kashaf: “Promise me you won't get angry.”

Zahra: “Just tell me.”

Kashaf took a deep breath.

“A marriage proposal has come for you.”

For a moment, Zahra froze.

“What... what do you mean?”

She almost shouted.

“When? Who brought it? What did Mother say? Did Father or Hadi agree? Kashaf... why didn't you say anything?”

Her words came out so quickly that she struggled to breathe.

Seeing her panic, Kashaf immediately walked over, held her shoulders, and made her sit down.

Zahra didn't even notice that her hair was still loose.

Only one word echoed in her mind—

Proposal.

Kashaf gently held Zahra's hand.

Kashaf: “Calm down first. I'll tell you everything.”

Zahra: “Please, tell me.”

Kashaf: "I woke up late this morning. You know Inayah hasn't been well. She stayed awake all night and didn't let me sleep either.

When I finally woke up, I heard voices coming from the drawing room. I looked through the doorway and saw a man sitting there with his family. There was also a young woman with them.

After a while, they got up to leave. From what I overheard, they were discussing a marriage proposal. I heard them say, 'Think about it and let us know your decision.'"

Zahra: “Did they mention my name?”

Kashaf: “No.”

Zahra: “Then maybe the proposal was for someone else?”

Kashaf looked at her in disbelief.

Kashaf: “Have you gone crazy? Who else in this house is of marriageable age besides you?”

For a brief moment, Zahra thought about it, but the worry quickly returned to her face.

Kashaf: “After they left, I talked to Mom.”

Restlessly, Zahra asked,

“What did she say?”

Kashaf: “Have patience, Zahra. Let me finish.”

Zahra: “Please... hurry.”

Kashaf: "Mom said the proposal was for you.

I asked who the boy was, what he did, and how educated he was."

Before Kashaf could continue, Zahra interrupted,

“Kashaf... did you recognize the people who came?”

Kashaf: “No. It was the first time I'd ever seen them.”

She continued,

"I asked Mom how they knew you.

She said the boy is connected with your university. She wasn't sure whether he's a student or a teacher."

“My university?”

The words struck Zahra like another shock.

“If you don't know who they are... then how do you know the boy's name?”

Kashaf: "I asked Mom.

His name is... Jafar."

The moment Zahra heard the name, she went completely pale.

It felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath her feet.

Without saying another word, she went into her room, closed the door, spread out her prayer mat, and sat down.

She began talking to Allah.

After all, Allah is the best Listener.

She had learned at a very young age what many people never understand even after a lifetime—that even when there is no one else willing to listen, Allah always is.

He hears every unspoken word.

He understands every feeling without needing an explanation.

Somewhere between her whispered prayers and silent tears, Zahra fell asleep without even realizing it.

Many of her nights ended this way.

The Next Day

Zahra had no classes at the university.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door.

She rose from her prayer mat and opened it.

Standing outside was Kashaf, dressed in a deep blue outfit with a white dupatta draped over her shoulders. Her hair was tied into a loose bun, and she carried a breakfast tray.

Without saying a word, Zahra stepped aside.

Kashaf entered the room, switched on the light, and placed the tray on the bed.

Kashaf: “Go wash your face. Then we'll have breakfast together.”

Zahra silently walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

The sound of running water could be heard.

A few minutes later, she came back looking calmer than before.

Kashaf: “Zahra... come here.”

Obediently, Zahra sat beside her.

Then she asked,

**"Leave me for a moment and tell me something else.

Last night I heard Hadi and Fajr arguing. What happened?"**

Kashaf: “Yes, they were arguing again. Forget about them—it has almost become routine.”

Zahra: “What do you mean?”

Kashaf: "You're hardly ever home, and even when you are, you stay in your room most of the time.

For the past several days, Hadi and Fajr have been fighting almost every day."

Zahra: “Why?”

Kashaf: "I don't know.

Forget them.

Tell me instead—what were you doing last night?"

A faint smile appeared on Zahra's lips.

“The same thing I always do whenever life becomes difficult.”

Kashaf: “Crying?”

Zahra: “Talking to Allah.”

Kashaf sighed.

“Zahra... I really don't understand you.”

Zahra smiled sadly.

“Sometimes... I don't understand myself either.”

Zarha: Whatever Allah has destined will happen. I am content with His will.

Kashaf: Zarha, have you gone crazy?

Zarha: I know everyone at home agrees, and even Hadi likes Jafar.

Kashaf: Then tell your family that Jafar was the one who trapped you at the university.

Zarha: Kashaf, I have accepted this proposal, but this marriage will never take place.

Kashaf: And who told you that?

Zarha: My intuition.

Kashaf: Zarha, don't trust your intuition so blindly.

Zarha: My intuition has never been wrong.

Zarha neither looked happy nor distressed. Instead, she appeared calm and at peace—and sometimes inner peace is far better than happiness.

Kashaf: Zarha, I came to tell you something.

Zarha: Yes, tell me.

Kashaf: I have started to suspect Fajr.

Zarha: About what?

Kashaf: A few days ago, I borrowed her phone because mine wasn't working and I needed to make an important call.

A Few Days Earlier

Kashaf, dressed in a black long shirt with a matching trouser and a yellow dupatta, her hair tied in a ponytail, sat in the lawn holding a cup of tea.

Kashaf: Oh Allah, what's wrong? Why isn't my phone working?

Just then, Fajr entered the lawn. She was wearing a light red outfit with a golden dupatta draped over her shoulders, delicate earrings, and light makeup. She looked as though she was about to go somewhere.

Fajr: What happened, Kashaf Apa?

Kashaf: Nothing. My phone isn't working, and I need to call Jahangir.

Fajr: Oh?

Kashaf: Zarha isn't home either. Can I use your phone to call him?

Fajr handed over her phone.

Fajr: Of course, Kashaf Apa. Jahangir Bhai's number is already saved.

Kashaf: Thank you so much.

Present Day

Zarha: Then what happened?

Kashaf: When I typed the letter B in her contacts, I saw a very strange name.

Zarha: What name?

Kashaf: “BS.”

Zarha: BS? What's that supposed to mean?

Kashaf: I don't know. The moment she noticed my expression, she became nervous, quickly took the phone back, and said she was getting late. But that contact name seemed very strange to me.

Zarha: What could it be?

Kashaf: She's your friend. Has she ever mentioned anything like that?

Zarha: Never. Nothing like that has ever happened.

Kashaf: Be careful, Zarha. Keep your eyes open when it comes to Fajr.

The warning reminded Zarha of something—the note from the day of Hadi and Fajr's wedding. At the end of it were the words:

“Brown shoes.”

Zarha: No, no... it's nothing.

She shook the thought from her mind.

Preparations for finalizing the marriage proposal were in full swing at home. Zarha did not go to the university that day. She had to buy a few things from the market, and she and Kashaf got ready to leave.

Zarha wore a brown abaya with a black hijab and her signature-style black niqab. Kashaf was dressed in a purple abaya with a matching purple scarf wrapped as a hijab. She left Inaya in her mother's care before they departed.

After buying what they needed from the market, they sat in a restaurant, placing their order, when someone called out from behind.

She could recognize that voice even in a crowd of thousands.

Sarwar Mustafa: Zarha!

Zarha turned around.

Standing before her was Sarwar Mustafa, dressed in a white shalwar kameez with brown shoes. His hair was neatly styled, a light beard framed his face, and a gentle smile rested on his lips.

The moment she saw him, she froze. Then, taking Kashaf with her, she stepped outside.

Zarha (angrily): Kashaf! What have you done?

Kashaf: What happened?

Zarha: Why did you call him here?

Kashaf: I didn't.

Zarha: Kashaf!

Her voice became firmer.

Kashaf: Alright, alright. Yes, I called him. I wanted you to tell Sir Sarwar about the marriage proposal.

Zarha: About... the proposal?

Kashaf: Yes.

Zarha: Just wait until we get home.

Kashaf: Fine. Now go. It doesn't look good to keep him waiting.

The two of them returned to the restaurant. Moments later, Kashaf received a phone call and excused herself, leaving Zarha and Sarwar alone.

Zarha: Sir Sarwar... what did you want to talk about?

Sarwar Mustafa: Zarha, can we talk outside?

Zarha: Of course.

They walked out of the restaurant. After strolling silently for a few moments, Sarwar finally spoke.

Sarwar Mustafa: So... what is it?

Zarha: Actually... Kashaf was the one who called you.

He looked at her in surprise.

Sarwar Mustafa: Does that mean you didn't want to speak to me? Then have we spent the last ten minutes simply admiring the streets?

Zarha couldn't tell whether he was genuinely surprised or merely pretending to be.

Zarha: No... it's not like that.

Just then, Sarwar's phone rang. He stepped a short distance away to answer it, leaving Zarha standing alone.

A moment later, she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned around—and froze.

Jafar was walking toward her.

He wore a brown T-shirt with white trousers. His slightly messy hair and the sinister smile on his face sent a chill through her.

Jafar: Hello, Zarha.

She didn't answer.

He walked closer.

Instinctively, Zarha stepped back, but he closed the distance and suddenly grabbed her hand tightly.

For the first time in her life, a man who was not her mahram had touched her. Until that day, no one except Hadi and Ayan Ahmad had ever held her hand.

She tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.

Without hesitation, she slapped him across the face.

Jafar had never expected such a reaction.

His grip loosened for a split second.

Seizing the opportunity, Zarha yanked her hand free and began calling out for Sarwar and Kashaf.

Jafar ran after her.

Hearing her cries, Sarwar rushed back. Without asking a single question, he lunged at Jafar.

The two men began fighting.

Suddenly, a white pickup truck screeched to a halt beside them.

Ten or twelve men jumped out.

All but one wore masks.

The unmasked man stood apart from the others.

The rest were dressed in black shalwar kameez, while he wore a blue shirt with black jeans.

There was one thing common among them all—

Brown shoes.

On the man's forearm, between his wrist and elbow, was a tattoo of a cloud. Inside the cloud, two letters were written in English:

BS

Zarha had seen those letters before.

BS.

Shock washed over her.

The masked men surrounded Jafar, while their leader advanced toward Sarwar.

Before either Sarwar or Jafar could react, the leader struck Sarwar violently on the head from behind.

Sarwar collapsed to the ground in pain.

The others grabbed Jafar, beat him mercilessly, and forced him into the pickup truck.

As the men prepared to leave, their leader looked directly at Zarha.

She was still staring only at Sarwar.

The man pointed toward his own eyes and silently mouthed two words:

“Stay alert.”

Then he climbed into the truck.

Within moments, the vehicles disappeared as though they had never been there.

Zarha hurried to Sarwar's side, anxiously asking if he was alright.

He slowly stood up.

Without saying a word, they returned to the restaurant, where Kashaf was already waiting.

Sarwar left immediately without another word.

Kashaf looked at Zarha questioningly.

"What happened?" her eyes seemed to ask.

"Let's go home," Zarha replied.

They got into the car.

On the drive home, Zarha told Kashaf everything that had happened.

Kashaf couldn't stop scolding her.

"We should have taken Sir Sarwar to the hospital," she insisted. “He wasn't even in a condition to drive.”

But by then they had almost reached home.

After returning, neither of them mentioned the incident again.

Although they met later at dinner, they avoided the topic entirely.

For the next several days, because of everything happening at home, Zarha was unable to attend the university.