As he dialed Mustafa's number, clear restlessness and irritation were visible on Salar's face. Even he didn't understand why he was doing all this. He neither liked Aizal nor did he have any real connection to her problems… yet somehow, he had become entangled in her story. The phone rang… and then suddenly, the call was answered.
"Yes?" came a plain, cold voice from the other side.
Salar took a light breath and said directly, "I need to meet you."
A few moments of silence followed, as if Mustafa was thinking. Then he replied calmly, "Alright. I'm in Islamabad. If you want to meet, come."
Salar's grip tightened on the phone. Islamabad?
Aizal's face immediately came to his mind. If Mustafa was here… then why hadn't he gone to meet her? For the past two days, she had been seeking a stranger's help just to talk to him.
A question rose in his heart… but he stopped himself.
Mustafa's voice came again, just as direct:
"I don't have much time. I'm at a café in F-8. If you want to come, come now… otherwise I'll leave."
And the call disconnected.
For a few moments, Salar stared at his phone. Then a faint smile appeared on his lips—but it was filled with anger.
Salar Shah… a well-known name in the business world, for whose appointment people waited weeks… and this man was calling him like he was just anyone.
"Crazy…" he muttered softly, but for now, he had to meet this very person.
A while later, he stood outside the café.
Soon after, Salar entered. Dim lighting, a quiet atmosphere, and a few scattered tables… his eyes scanned the hall before stopping at a man sitting in the corner. Simple clothes, a serious face, and light steam rising from the cup in front of him.
Salar stepped forward. His walk was confident, but there was an odd disinterest within him. Reaching the table, he stopped and said directly,
"Are you Mr. Mustafa?"
Mustafa looked up. For a moment, surprise flickered in his eyes, as if trying to recognize the man standing before him. Then suddenly, his gaze steadied.
He had recognized Salar Shah.
He immediately straightened.
"Yes… I'm Mustafa."
Without waiting for permission, Salar pulled a chair and sat down in front of him, giving him a brief look.
So this was him?
Simple… ordinary… yet a girl had been relying on a stranger for two days just to talk to him.
For a few moments, silence lingered between them. The faint sounds from outside the café drifted in, but between the two men sitting at the table, the atmosphere was heavy with seriousness.
Salar looked at Mustafa intently and thought—
**On one side was a girl willing to go to any extent just to reach him… and on the other was this man, sitting calmly as if nothing mattered at all.**
This meeting was not going to be easy.
As Salar sat across from him, he didn't feel the need for any introduction. He never liked wasting time. In a direct and flat tone, he said,
"I'm Aizal's friend. She said she's facing some problems… and she wants to marry you. She's waiting for you."
Mustafa lowered his gaze for a moment, then replied with calm seriousness,
"Look, Mr. Salar… Aizal is a very good girl. But at the moment, I cannot marry her."
Salar's brows tightened slightly.
Maintaining the same calm tone, Mustafa continued,
"I've already told her that until my parents agree, I won't marry. And besides… I have other priorities right now."
For a moment, the color seemed to drain from Salar's face.
Immediately, the image of that girl flashed in his mind—hiding in fear and anxiety, seeking strangers just to reach this man.
Salar was about to say something when Mustafa added another sentence, simply,
"And if she has a problem… why don't you marry her?"
"You already know her anyway."
The words seemed to freeze in the air.
A sudden hardness settled in Salar's eyes. He stared at Mustafa for a few moments… as if he couldn't believe he had actually said that.
Then suddenly, he stood up.
An odd mix of anger and irritation filled him. Marriage, responsibilities, emotions… all these things had always been a burden to him. He had never liked such complications.
Without saying anything, he pushed the chair back, turned, and walked out of the café with fast steps.
Behind him, Mustafa remained seated just as calmly… as if nothing significant had happened.
And as Salar walked out, only one thought echoed in his mind—
**What kind of man was that girl waiting for…?**
He felt a surge of anger toward that girl.
Coming out of the café, Salar went straight to his car and sat inside. His mood was already ruined. He had just started the car when his phone rang. Without looking, he answered.
"Hello…"
An anxious voice immediately came from the other side,
"What happened? Did you talk to Mustafa? I've been waiting…"
Hearing so many questions at once, irritation spread across Salar's face. Grinding his teeth, he said,
"Madam… if you let me speak, I might be able to tell you something."
There was silence for a few moments. Then he said directly,
"I met Mustafa. He has no interest in marrying you. He said he already told you that he won't marry without his parents' consent… and they haven't agreed."
Hearing these words, Aizal went still.
For a few moments, her entire being felt numb.
Then a thought came to her—Mustafa wasn't entirely wrong…
He had already told her he wouldn't go against his parents.
But she was helpless too. At the very least… he could have come to meet her. Even if he didn't marry her, he shouldn't have left her alone like this.
The real shock hit her when she realized—
What would she do now? Where would she go?
She didn't even know anyone in this city.
On the other side, Salar grew impatient with her long silence. He was about to say something when suddenly Aizal's voice came—soft but firm:
"Will you… marry me?"
Salar's hand froze on the steering wheel.
"What?" he blurted out.
Aizal quickly said,
"Don't worry. It will only be a paper marriage. As soon as I reach Lahore… you can send the divorce. I have no other option. Please…"
Salar fell silent.
He was stunned… what was this girl saying?
After a few moments, he took a deep breath and said indifferently,
"I have no objection. I'm not particularly interested in these things anyway. Tell me where you are… I'll come pick you up."
For a moment, Aizal hesitated. She didn't even like looking at this man… and now fate was forcing her to seek his help. She didn't trust him at all.
But helplessly, she sent him her address.
Salar tossed the phone onto the steering wheel, surprised at himself.
Just a while ago, he had been furious at Mustafa… and now, at a single sentence from that girl, he had agreed.
Shaking his head, he turned the car and drove toward the hotel first.
When he reached, Zaheer was standing in the lobby waiting for him. The anger was clearly visible on his face.
"Wow, Salar Shah! Finally found time to bless this poor man with your presence? You've been missing since morning—where were you? You didn't even want to come with me before—"
"Prepare for a nikah." Salar cut him off.
Zaheer froze mid-sentence.
"What?"
"I said arrange a nikah." Salar replied seriously.
Zaheer placed a hand on his forehead.
"Salar… are you drunk or something? What kind of nonsense are you talking?"
"I'm not drunk. Listen… there's going to be a nikah. Will you arrange it or should I do it myself?"
"With whom?" Zaheer almost shouted.
"With Aizal."
Zaheer went silent.
"That same girl… who helped us that day?"
Salar nodded impatiently.
"Yes, her. She needs my help… just for a formality. As soon as she reaches Lahore, the divorce will be done."
Zaheer stared at him for a few moments, then said,
"Formality? Salar, is nikah a joke to you? This is someone's life—"
"Oh come on, Zaheer!" Salar snapped, irritated.
"I'm not forcing her. She wants it herself. And anyway… she helped me. You know I don't keep anyone's favors on me. That's why I'm doing this. And yes… I'm doing this just for fun."
Salar didn't know where this "fun" would lead him.
"For fun?" Zaheer's eyes held both shock and anger.
"It may be a joke for you… but not for that girl."
Salar shrugged.
"I'm not forcing her. I'm helping her. You make the arrangements… I'll go get her."
Saying this, he turned and walked out.
Zaheer remained standing there. He had no choice but to agree… yet a strange unease settled in his heart.
**She was helpless… and fate remained silent.**