Chapter 11: Rules and Regulations
"Do you think my three million was a gift, Aslam?" Heer asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous level. Aslam shook his head slowly. "No. But this... this is more than I ever expected."
"Yesterday, we had a deal," Heer reminded him, tapping her perfectly manicured finger on the desk. "I give you the money, you sign the contract. You said you didn't care about the rules. And now? Now you're looking at me like there's a ghost in the file."
"But this isn't just a marriage, Ma'am," Aslam argued, his voice thin.
"Sit down," she commanded. It wasn't a request. Aslam sank back into the chair, feeling the weight of the mahogany doors behind him. "If you think this is over the top," Heer leaned forward, "then give me my money back right now, and we can forget we ever spoke. But if you don't have the cash, then shut up and listen to the terms."
She flipped to the second page of the file. "Rule Number One: You will marry me whenever and wherever I say. Rule Number Two: You will live in my house. My roof, my rules. Rule Number Three: While under this contract, you are strictly forbidden from having any other relationship—physical or emotional. Rule Number Four: If necessary for the sake of the image, you must initiate physical contact with me. We must look like a real couple."
Aslam lunged to his feet. "No! No, I can't do that!"
"I said... sit down," Heer whispered. Aslam sat back down instantly, his heart hammering.
"Continuing," Heer said coldly. "Rule Number Five: You will give one hundred percent to ensure this relationship looks real. Rule Number Six: There is no end date. Once you sign, there may be no way back. And finally, Rule Number Seven: To maintain the lie, we will document everything. First date photos, anniversary dinners, and a recorded proposal. If you break a single rule, the penalty is one hundred times the original amount. Three hundred million, Aslam. Can you afford that?"
Aslam felt the air leave the room. "Can we... can we remove Rule Three? And keep it private? Skip the proposal video?"
"No. This is the final offer. Sign it now."
"I need my lawyer," Aslam stammered, desperate for a way out.
"Really?" Heer's eyebrow arched.
"Yes. He's... he's out of the country. We have to wait for him."
"How long?"
"Maybe some months?" Aslam tried. Heer glared. "Weeks?"
She looked at him in a way that made him feel like a bug under a microscope. "Fine. I will provide a lawyer for you."
"Can't you just give me three or four years to pay you back?" Aslam pleaded.
"We sign tomorrow," Heer replied, closing the file with a sharp snap. "I will send you the location and the time. You may go now."
"But—"
"I said, you may go."
Aslam stood up and walked toward the door, his legs feeling like jelly. "Aslam?" she called out from behind him. "Bring your lawyer." Aslam started to shake his head 'no,' but when he saw the fire in her eyes, he quickly changed it to a terrified 'yes' and hurried out the door.
Aslam stumbled out of Heer's office, his vision blurring. The moment the mahogany doors hissed shut behind him, he fumbled for his phone and hit the speed dial. "I need your help," he whispered into the receiver. "Tonight. The usual spot."
At the Neon Bar at 9:00 PM, Aslam sat in a dark corner, checking his watch every thirty seconds. He looked like a man waiting for a death sentence. Suddenly, a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder. Aslam jumped, then looked up. His eyes shone with a mix of relief and hope, as if he were staring at an angel.
"Parwaiz! My friend! My brother!" Aslam stood up so fast he nearly tipped his chair. "Come on, sit, sit! I've already ordered the best dinner on the menu for you. And after this? We're going to the movies. My treat!"
Parwaiz didn't sit. He looked at Aslam with deep suspicion, his arms crossed. "Aslam... are you sick? Did you hit your head? Why are you acting like a man who just won the lottery when you look like you're about to cry?"
"I'm fine! I'm great!" Aslam insisted, pulling Parwaiz into the seat. "I just realized you're my best friend, and we don't spend enough time together."
Parwaiz sighed, picked up a piece of chicken, and pointed it at Aslam. "Cut the act. Tell me what you want."
Aslam's fake smile collapsed instantly. He leaned across the table, his voice a low hiss. "She said I have to bring my lawyer tomorrow to sign the contract."
Parwaiz stopped mid-bite, his eyes going wide. "Bro... what?" He put the chicken down and rubbed his face with his hands. "Okay. Okay, let me think. Look, Aslam, I'll be honest with you. You did what you had to do for your father. If I were in your shoes, I'd have done the same. But now? There's no way back. You either give the three million back tonight, or you sign that paper. There is no third option."
"But you're the best lawyer I know!" Aslam pleaded, grabbing his friend's arm. "Find a loophole! Anything!"
Parwaiz looked at him with pitying eyes. He reached out and patted Aslam's hand. "Everything happens for a reason, Aslam," Parwaiz said softly. "Maybe this is how God intended to change your life. Maybe there's something good waiting for you behind those mahogany doors."
They stepped out of the bar, the humid night air pressing against them. Parwaiz turned to Aslam, gripping his shoulder one last time. "Believe me, Aslam. Everything will be fine. Just breathe."
"Hmm..." Aslam let out a tired, non-committal hum.
"I'll meet you tomorrow at the location Heer sent you," Parwaiz said, pulling out his car keys. "I'll review every single line of that document before you put pen to paper. I've got your back, okay?"
Aslam managed a small, weary smirk. "Don't be late, you idiot."
Parwaiz laughed, a bright sound in the dark street. "There he is. That's my boy. Get some sleep."
Aslam watched his friend drive away, then turned to walk toward his own apartment. The street was quiet, but as he moved, a cold shiver raced down his spine. He stopped. He felt eyes on him—a heavy, predatory gaze. He spun around quickly, scanning the shadows between the buildings. Nothing. Only the flickering of a streetlamp and the distant sound of traffic.
He hurried the rest of the way home, his heart hammering. Once inside his room, he locked the door and collapsed onto his bed without even taking off his shoes. "Tomorrow," he whispered to the empty ceiling. "Tomorrow is the day that changes everything."
He closed his eyes, a final, dark thought drifting through his mind: Maybe I should enjoy this sleep. Because in the future, there might not be any peace left.
The sun rose on a day of two different worlds. In her penthouse, Heer stood before a floor-to-ceiling mirror, adjusting her diamond earrings. She looked radiant, her eyes glowing with the triumph of a hunter who had finally cornered her prey. To her, today was a victory. Across the city, Aslam stared at his reflection with hollow eyes. He adjusted his tie as if he were tightening a noose. To him, today was the day he walked toward his own execution.
At the Royal Plaza Hotel at 11:00 AM, the private suite was thick with a "killing silence." Heer sat behind a glass table, her legs crossed, radiating power. Aslam and Parwaiz sat opposite her. Parwaiz was hunched over his briefcase, his professional lawyer persona hiding the pity he felt for his friend.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the suite swung open. The world seemed to slow down. A young woman stepped into the room, the sunlight from the hallway silhouetting her like a halo. She moved with a grace that didn't belong in a corporate hotel—every step was a melody, her dress flowing behind her like water. Aslam and Parwaiz stood up instinctively, their breath catching in their throats. She wasn't just beautiful; she possessed a radiance that felt almost otherworldly. For a moment, the contract and the three million were forgotten.
"You're late," Heer said, her voice the only thing sharp enough to break the spell. The woman smiled, and the tension in the room shifted instantly. The young lawyer sat on the sofa, crossing her legs with a graceful flick of her skirt. Aslam and Parwaiz remained standing, their eyes glazed over. To them, the room had vanished; there was only the "Angel" in front of them.
What a beauty, Parwaiz thought, his professional lawyer brain completely short-circuiting. Is she even human?
A sharp, cold cough broke the silence. Heer was staring at Aslam, her eyes narrowed into two dangerous slits. The air in the room suddenly dropped ten degrees. "Rule Number Three, Aslam," Heer said, her voice like a whip. "Do you remember it? Or do I need to remind you of the penalty for emotional wandering?"
Aslam snapped back to reality as if he'd been splashed with ice water. He stood up straight, his face turning red. "Yes! Yes... I know. I remember. I'm sorry."
Heer's jealousy was a physical weight in the room. She turned to the lawyer with a cold nod. "Can we start?"
The lawyer opened the file. Within minutes, Heer had signed every page with a bold, aggressive stroke of her pen, not hesitating for a second. She slid the document across the glass table toward Aslam. Aslam looked at the pen in his hand. It felt like a dagger. He looked at Parwaiz, seeking one last escape. Parwaiz, now back in his senses, gave a slow, somber nod. Do it, his eyes said. There is no other way.
Aslam pressed the pen to the paper. The scratching of the nib sounded like a heartbeat in the silent room. With one final stroke, he was no longer a free man. The ink was barely dry when Heer stood up abruptly, grabbing her designer handbag.
"I'll send you the location for our first date tonight," she said, already walking toward the door without looking back.
Aslam's jaw dropped. "Whaaat? Tonight?"
"Dress well," she threw over her shoulder. "The camera doesn't like cheap fabric."
[End of Chapter 11]