Ayeda stepped down from the stage, but her eyes couldn’t help drifting back to where he sat moments ago. Before she could process anything, Nida rushed in and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Congratulations, girl! You did it!” Nida beamed.

Ayeda smiled and returned the hug.

“Waise, sahi kaha tha tumne… dua mein waqai taqat hoti hai. Dekha, taqdeer badal gayi,” Nida said, half-joking, half-awestruck.
(By the way, you were right… there's truly power in prayer. See, fate has actually changed.)

Ayeda just nodded still lost in the moment that felt too unreal to believe.

Then, a classmate walked by and commented, just loud enough,

“This happened only because of the chief guest. He stood up for her otherwise we all knew who the winner was supposed to be.”

Ayeda’s hummed absent mindedly. Her gaze instinctively searched for him again… and there he was already walking out.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she quickly told Nida, grabbing her bag.

She ran toward the exit. Her eyes landed on him, just as he was settling into his car.

“Sir! Please… wait!” she called out, breathless.

Zarian paused just for a second.

“Pehle unki aankhein har jagah dikhai deti thi… ab awaaz bhi?” he muttered under his breath with a dry smile, shaking his head.
(Earlier, I used to see their eyes everywhere… now I hear their voice too?)

He dismissed the moment and sat back in his car, assuming it was just his mind playing tricks again.

But Ayeda wasn’t done yet. She rushed to her car, started it, and began following his.

“Jaldi chal Ayeda… kisi ka ehsaan kabhi baaqi nahi chhodte. Aur inhone toh aaj mere liye sab kuch badal diya. Ek ‘thank you’ toh banta hai.”
(Hurry up, Ayeda… we should never leave a favor unacknowledged. And today, they changed everything for me. A ‘thank you’ is the least I can offer.)

After driving for a while, Zarian noticed a car following him. His jaw clenched. A business rival? Or someone with a death wish? He thought.

Without a second thought, he took a sharp turn, leaving the main road and entering a quieter, less populated lane. His hand reached into the dashboard and pulled out his gun. He brought the car to a sudden halt.

Behind him, Ayeda, unable to anticipate the abrupt stop, slammed the brakes. Her body jerked forward and her forehead hit the steering wheel with a soft thud.

Zarian stepped out of his car, gun in hand, and walked briskly toward the vehicle behind. As he approached, he couldn’t see the driver clearly through the windshield, so he tapped the window firmly with the gun raised.

Startled, Ayeda lifted her head while rubbing her forehead. Their eyes met.

Those hazel eyes.

The moment Zarian saw them, his grip on the gun loosened. His heart skipped — again.

But he quickly masked it, composed himself, and tucked the gun into his waistband.

Ayeda opened the car door and stepped out, still massaging her forehead.

Zarian’s eyes immediately fell on the swelling. Guilt surged in his chest. His voice softened.

“I’m sorry... I thought my bussiness rivals was following me.”

Ayeda simply nodded, lowering her hand. Then, without hesitation, she looked him straight in the eyes.

And for a heartbeat — everything around them faded.
Her gaze was calm, questioning.
His? Caught somewhere between longing and restraint.

But just as he felt himself getting pulled into that silence, her mother’s words rang sharply in his mind:
“Ayeda ki shaadi ka faisla ho chuka hai… uska rishta Samad ke saath tay hai.”

As if burned, Zarian immediately looked away — breaking the moment before it could say too much.

Clearing his throat, Zarian finally asked, “But why were you following me?”

Ayeda, without hesitation, replied, “To say thank you.”

Zarian’s brows furrowed slightly, confusion clouding his expression. “Huh? For what?”

Ayeda muttered under her breath, almost to herself, “Doesn’t he remember me? How can he forget what just happened a few minutes ago…” Her eyes subtly scanned his face. “He doesn’t even look that old, then how come he forgets things so easily…”

Zarian, unable to catch her muttering, repeated calmly, “What happened?”

Shaking her head and composing herself, Ayeda spoke clearly this time, “The program you just attended... the girl whose name you announced as the winner — Ayeda Khan — that’s me.”

Zarian looked at her quietly, his expression unreadable. Then he said, “I already know who you are...... Miss Khan. I’m asking why you’re thanking me.”

Understanding dawned on Ayeda’s face. She softened and replied sincerely, “Because... you’re the one who let me win. You stood up and spoke when everyone stayed silent. The winner was already decided, but you fought that. That’s why... thank you, Mr. Malik.”

Zarian’s breath caught for a second.

Her voice.
Her presence.
Her saying his name. Mr. Malik.

Small things for the world…

But for him?

Moments he could tuck away like rare treasures in the corners of his heart — moments he had no right to keep.

But still, he knew — this was fleeting.

She’s not meant for me. This is a passing breeze, not a place to rest.

Composing himself, he replied, “Don’t you think your presentation was good enough to earn the first position?”

Ayeda answered instantly, a spark in her voice, “Of course, it was.”

Zarian nodded. “Then it’s your hard work that brought you here, not me. Thank yourself, Miss Khan.”

But Ayeda, ever so stubborn, tilted her head slightly and said,

“Still... people could’ve stayed quiet. But you chose to speak. You chose what was right. That’s not ordinary. So… thank you, Mr. Malik. And this—this is for you.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a sleek, customized pen — elegant, expensive, with the letter ‘A’ finely engraved on its cap.

Zarian looked at it for a long second — quiet admiration softening the intensity in his eyes.
He shook his head gently.

“You’re welcome, Miss Khan. But I can’t take this... it looks too close to you. Feels personal.”

Ayeda’s smile didn’t waver.

“Exactly. That’s why. It’ll feel like I owe you something if you don’t take it. Please, Mr. Malik. It’s a request.”

There was a silence — brief, but weighted.

Then, without another word, Zarian quietly took the pen from her hand, careful not to let their fingers brush. He tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat like something fragile.

Then, his voice turned a shade softer — serious, protective.

“But don’t follow anyone like this again. Anything could’ve happened. It’s not safe.”

The concern in his tone wasn’t commanding — it was gentle. Human.

Ayeda simply smiled and nodded, her eyes lowering slightly.

“Okay.”

Zarian looked away for a moment — part of him wanting to say something more, anything, just to hold on to the moment. But restraint won.

He stepped back and said softly,

“Now go.”

Ayeda got into her car and drove off, while Zarian returned to his own. He waited, watching in his rearview mirror until her car turned a corner and disappeared into the traffic. Only then did he exhale.

He didn’t head home immediately.

Instead, he parked by a quiet corner, switched off the engine, and leaned back into the seat.

His hand instinctively came to rest over his heart — it was beating fast, wild, and completely out of sync.

He closed his eyes for a brief second

not to rest…

but to hold himself together.

His grip on his chest tightened,

as if holding back everything he couldn’t allow to escape

not his thoughts,

not his feelings,

and definitely not her name.

She wasn’t his.

But somehow…

she still lived in the corner of his heart

he kept hidden even from himself.

She had thanked him.

Smiled at him.

Stood in front of him —

and walked away.

And all he did was breathe… silently.

He looked up through the windshield,

towards the blank, aching sky

not to speak to it,

but to just exist under it.

And then…

“Ya Allah…”

That’s all he managed.

No prayer.

No plea.

No complaint.

Just a name

soft, cracked, and soaked in surrender.

Because tonight, even his heart didn’t know what to ask for.

He started the engine.

And drove off.

Khan mansion

Ayeda informed everyone that she had won the competition. Her family was delighted  though not entirely surprised. She had always been a brilliant student, after all.

But she didn’t share the details of what had happened at the event. She didn’t want anyone to worry unnecessarily.

Everyone in the house tended to get concerned the moment it came to Ayeda she knew that, and she chose silence.

After spending time with her family, Ayeda quietly slipped into her room.

She made wudu, laid down her prayer mat, and offered two rakat shukrana namaz.

Then, with tears of gratitude brimming in her eyes, she raised her hands in dua:

"Ya Allah…

Aapka jitna shukr karun kam hai,

Aaj jo mere liye kiya, usne mujhe sirf jeet nahi—sukoon bhi diya.

Aap ne apne ek bande ko mere liye zariya banaya,

Jo meri khamosh mehnat ke liye awaaz bana.

Maula, jis bande ne meri madad ki,

Aap uski har jagah madad farmaiye.

Aaj jis tarah Aapne mujhe pareshani se nikala,

Usse bhi har pareshani se nikaal dijiye.

Aur jis tarah woh meri ek khwahish poori karne ka sabab bana,

Aap uski har chhoti badi dua qubool farmaiye, Ya Rabb…

Ameen."

(O Allah…
No matter how much I thank You, it will never be enough.
What You did for me today not only brought victory but also peace to my heart.
You made one of Your servants a means for me,
Who gave voice to my silent hard work.

O Allah,
The one who helped me today—
May You help him in every step of his life.
Just as You pulled me out of my trouble today,
Remove every hardship from his path too.
And just as he became the reason behind one of my wishes coming true,
May You grant every single one of his prayers, big or small… O Lord.
Ameen.)

She prayed for him — for his every wish to be fulfilled...
Unaware that his only unfulfilled wish — was her.

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