Chapter 16: Just Imagine
The heavy oak door to Heer's office burst open without so much as a polite knock. Heer looked up, her brow furrowing in irritation as she saw Aslam standing there, his face a ghostly mask of terror and disbelief.
"Aslam? Do you have any manners?" she snapped, her hand hovering over a stack of documents.
"Oh, come on!" Aslam's voice cracked. He held up the information file, shaking it toward her. "First of all, tell me... is this some kind of joke?"
Heer leaned back, crossing her arms. "What do you mean?"
"You are the daughter of Jamshed Rahmani?" Aslam's eyes were wide, darting across the pages as if the words might change if he blinked. "The Chairman of Queens Group International? The number one businessman in this entire country?"
Heer didn't blink. "Yep."
The air seemed to leave the room. Aslam didn't even try to stand anymore; he practically threw himself into the nearest seat, his legs giving way under the weight of the revelation.
"Aslam? Hello? Aslam, are you okay?" Heer leaned over her desk, watching him. He was staring at the wall, his mind clearly a thousand miles away, trapped in a shock so deep he couldn't even hear her. "Aslaaaam!"
Aslam jumped, blinking rapidly. "What? What just happened?"
"I asked if you were okay," Heer said, her voice softening slightly.
"Do I look like I am?" Aslam shot back, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. "Look, I don't know what's wrong with you, but yes—he is my father."
Aslam looked at her, a desperate question burning in his eyes. "Can I ask you something? Just one question?"
"Not now," Heer interrupted, checking her diamond-encrusted watch. "We don't have enough time. It's already 11:00 AM, and we have to be at that dinner by 7:00 PM sharp. Now, go. Read that file until you know it by heart. I don't want any mistakes. One slip-up, one wrong answer, and my entire future is destroyed. I know you can do this. I believe in you."
Aslam let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Really?"
"I think I do," she replied firmly.
"Wow. That's a real great type of motivation," Aslam muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stood up, his knees still a bit shaky, and moved toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and turned back. "I need a half-day. I'm leaving now."
Heer's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to leave the country?"
Aslam didn't answer. He just gave her a look so sharp and angry that she actually recoiled an inch. "Fine, fine," she sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "Just go. Get it done."
Ten minutes later, Aslam was sitting in a corner booth of a quiet cafe. Parwaiz was across from him, looking confused.
"So, tell me what happened," Parwaiz said, taking a casual sip of his hot coffee. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"Do you know who Heer actually is?" Aslam asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"No, just your boss, right?"
"She's the daughter of Jamshed Rahmani."
Parwaiz immediately choked, a spray of brown liquid hitting the table as he spit his coffee out in total shock. "Wha-whaaat?! You mean the Director of Queens Group?"
"Yes," Aslam said, staring into his own untouched cup. "Him."
"Man..." Parwaiz groaned, wiping coffee from his chin. "How can a guy be so unlucky and so lucky at the exact same time? On one side, you have the richest woman in the country who wants to marry you. On the other side, she has the most dangerous and powerful father on the planet. Think about it, Aslam. When he finds out you're just an actor playing a part... what do you think will happen then?"
The two of them sat in silence, their imaginations taking over. Suddenly, the quiet cafe vanished.
[The Imaginary Scene] The air was cold and smelled of expensive cigars and gunpowder. Jamshed Rahmani stood in the center of a dark room, his silhouette towering and terrifying. "Did you really think you could make a fool out of me?" Jamshed growled. He held a sleek, black handgun. With a metallic click-clack, he reloaded it, the sound echoing like a death knell. Aslam was on his knees, trembling, his face drenched in sweat. "How foolish you are," Jamshed whispered. He raised the gun, pointing it directly between Aslam's eyes. BANG!
Aslam and Parwaiz both jumped in their seats, snapping back to reality as a loud car backfired on the street outside.
"NO!" Aslam gasped, clutching his chest. The two friends looked at each other, their eyes welling up with tears of genuine terror.
"I... I'm going to miss you, my friend," Parwaiz said, his voice cracking as if he were already at Aslam's funeral.
"Bro, please! Help me!" Aslam pleaded. "What do I do?"
"Leave the country," Parwaiz said instantly. "Run. Move to the mountains."
"If I leave this world, she will still find me," Aslam groaned. "There's no place on earth she can't reach."
Parwaiz went quiet for a long moment. "Then you only have one way left. Do the same thing you are best at. Just be that Aslam."
Aslam froze. He knew exactly what Parwaiz meant—the version of himself that didn't take orders, the "topper" brain. "Will it work?"
"One hundred percent," Parwaiz promised.
Back in his room, Aslam's phone buzzed. Heer: I will be at your building at 6:00 PM. Be ready. I sent a gift to your door. Don't make any mistakes.
Aslam looked at the large, expensive bag resting on his bed. He took a deep breath, his eyes sharpening with a fire that hadn't been there yesterday. "Heer... get ready to see the real Aslam."
He stepped into the suit—the most luxurious fabric that had ever touched his skin. It fit him perfectly, highlighting a frame that had been hidden under cheap office clothes for far too long. He adjusted the cuffs and straightened his tie. He looked like a man who owned the city.
A second message flashed: Waiting below. Aslam replied: Coming in a sec.
Heer sat in the driver's seat of her car, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She was mentally rehearsing lies when a sharp, rhythmic knock on the window startled her. She turned, and the breath died in her throat.
Standing there was a man she barely recognized. The suit was impeccable, but it was the way he carried himself—shoulders back, chin tilted, eyes full of a dangerous, calm intelligence. She had never seen a man look that handsome; she had never seen Aslam look like that.
"Are we going, or are you going to keep staring?" Aslam asked, his voice smooth and steady.
Heer blinked, her face heating up. "Get in," she managed to say, her "tough rock" persona cracking for a split second.
As the iron gates of the mansion swung open, the scale of the luxury was enough to take anyone's breath away. But as the car pulled up to the grand entrance, Aslam's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't the house that shocked him.
There was something else waiting.
[End of Chapter 16]