Malik Enterprises.
Zarian's cabin

Zarian sat in his chair, eyes focused on the screen before him. His fingers moved fluidly across the keyboard—swift, precise, like a man who had long mastered control. Control of his business, of his world… and most of all, of his emotions.

A soft knock broke the silence.

“Come in,” he said without looking up.

The door opened, and in walked Ehsan—his personal assistant. Dressed in his usual crisp white shirt and black trousers, hair neatly styled, and his sharp features calm… but today, something was different.

His eyes were glowing, and for the first time in years, he wasn’t holding a file. He was holding a sweet box.

Zarian looked up, slightly narrowing his eyes in surprise.

“Sir…” Ehsan smiled, voice warm, “My marriage has been fixed.”

He stepped forward and extended the card and box with both hands.

A genuine smile spread across Zarian’s face. He stood up and took both, then embraced him. “Mubarak ho, Ehsan.”

Ehsan returned the hug with respect. For the world, Zarian Malik was a tycoon. But for those who worked with him, he was a man of dignity, compassion, and silent strength. No one feared him because he never asked to be feared. He asked only to be followed with integrity.

As they broke the hug, Zarian sat down again, still holding the card. His fingers lingered on the envelope while his gaze rested on Ehsan, as if battling the urge to ask something.

Ehsan noticed.

“You want to ask something, sir?” he said with a knowing smile.

Zarian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then asked, almost hesitantly, “It’s the same girl, right? The one you’ve always loved?”

Ehsan beamed. “Yes, sir. It’s her. We fought for it… it wasn’t easy. Families didn’t agree at first, but we kept trying. I knew I couldn’t see her with someone else. I couldn't even imagine it. So I stayed stubborn… for once, I chose love.”

His voice was full of something Zarian hadn’t felt in a long time—certainty, anchored in love.

After a few moments, Ehsan left.

Zarian thoughts didn’t stop.

They churned louder than the world around him.

His eyes stayed fixed on the sweet box in front of him, but his heart… it wasn’t here anymore.

It had drifted — to her.
To Ayeda.

A storm gathered silently inside him.

Can I live without her?

Can I ever love someone else?

Can I even imagine a world where her name doesn’t echo in my every silence?

Each question rose, like waves trying to drown him — and yet…

Every answer was the same.

A quiet, aching no.

Not the kind spoken in fear but the kind whispered with certainty, with surrender.

Because this wasn’t just admiration.

This wasn’t fascination.

It was love.

And not the kind that fades when unreturned.

Not the kind that shifts with time.

But the kind that stays rooted, patient, and painfully loyal.

He hadn’t loved in halves. He never could.

He loved her with the part of him that didn’t know how to belong to anyone else.

Not now.

Not ever.

His hand tightened around the card Ehsan had given him, not out of jealousy, but something else… longing.

He exhaled slowly, the air heavy with unspoken dreams.

For once, he didn’t want to keep loving her in silence.

For once, he didn’t want to watch from the shadows.

He wanted to step into the light  with her.

He wanted to tell her what had lived in his chest all this time.

Not through passing glances.

Not through quiet sacrifices.

Not through prayers whispered behind closed doors.

But through words.

Through truth.

To Ayeda

Not the girl he admired.

Not the memory he preserved.

But the woman he had fallen in love with.

Let her know.

Let her decide.

Because the final chapter of his story — he didn’t want to write it alone.

If she says yes, he’d build a life around her.

And if she says no…

He would walk away.

But not without telling her she was it.

His only.

He stood from his chair, slowly — like someone stepping into something sacred. He straightened his coat with steady hands, but inside… his heart was trembling.

Every step toward the door felt heavier than the last.

Fear clawed at his chest.

What if she doesn’t feel the same?

What if I’m too late?

What if… she’s already gone?

But louder than the fear — was the truth.

He was in love.

And for the first time in his life — Zarian Malik, the man who had mastered control, power, and silence was finally ready to do the one thing he had never dared:
Speak his heart.

Zarian’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, calm on the outside, but his heart thudded like a war drum.

He wasn’t just heading to the hospital today.

He was heading to her.

To finally confess.

To speak all that had stayed buried in silence for far too long.

But destiny, as always, had a detour waiting.

At the signal, he noticed a man standing beside a broken-down car, waving for help. Without a second thought, Zarian slowed down and rolled his window.

The man leaned in. Hoodie, black jeans, familiar voice. “Zarian bhai… aap?”

Zarian squinted, confused.

“You might not remember me,” the man smiled, “we meet rarely… but it’s okay. Let me reintroduce myself—”

Zarian cut in gently, “First sit. We can talk while driving.”

“Of course,” the man replied and got in.

“Where should I drop you?”

“Khan Mansion, bhai. Obviously,” the man chuckled.

Zarian’s fingers subtly stiffened on the steering wheel.

Why Khan Mansion?

“I’m sorry,” Zarian asked again, “I still don’t recall you.”

“I’m Samad Khan. Son of Ibrahim Khan. Now you remember?”

Zarian’s eyes flickered — now the pieces clicked.

The face, the name…

“Ayeda ki shaadi ka faisla ho chuka hai. Uska rishta Samad ke saath tay hai.”

And then, just like a strike to the chest, Samad casually muttered,

“Shaadi hai ek hafte mein… aur dulhe se hi sab kaam kara rahe hain!”

(The wedding is in a week… and they’re making the groom do all the work!)

CRASH.

Zarian slammed the brakes.

The car jolted — Samad lurched forward but was caught by his seatbelt.

“Zarian bhai?” he asked, puzzled.

Zarian’s heart was thudding in his ears. “You're… getting married in a week?”

Samad adjusted himself and smiled. “Yes, InshaAllah. Tomorrow, Abbu is coming to your house with the wedding card.”

Zarian’s throat dried up.

His jaw tightened.

His heart… just dropped.

One week.

He started the car again, but now, everything blurred. The traffic, the road, the sky — all faded into background noise.

After a moment of silence, he finally asked softly, brokenly:

“Do you… love her?”

Samad paused. His tone dropped, suddenly sincere.

“I don’t know if it’s love… but I care. We’ve been friends for years. She knows me better than anyone. I know her fears, her strengths… her silence. We’re not marrying out of force. It’s comfort. Trust.”

He continued, “She looks strong to the world, but she’s fragile, bhai. She’d sacrifice her smile for someone else’s happiness. I just… want to protect that part of her.”

Zarian smiled — a small, painful, knowing smile.

She was in safe hands.

Maybe not passionate love, but peace. Safety. Familiarity.

And that… was enough for him.

Because that’s who Zarian Malik was. He had always chosen others’ happiness over his own.

He let go of his dreams to carry his father’s empire. He lost sleep so his siblings could dream freely.

And today… Today, he was ready to sacrifice love (his only love)— for her comfort.

Today, he was ready to walk away— not because he didn’t love her…
But because he loved her too much to ever be the reason she felt torn.

They reached Khan Mansion.

Samad got down cheerful, excited, completely unaware of the silent earthquake he had left behind.

Zarian just nodded  because what could he say?

He watched him walk through those gates…

The same gates behind which his Ayeda now lived not his in reality, but his in every secret corner of his heart.

Then slowly… without a word…

He turned the car around.

No hospital.

No confession.

No last-minute miracle.

Just silence.

Just heartbreak.

And the dull ache of knowing that something beautiful  something rare  had slipped through his fingers forever.

He didn’t cry.

Zarian Malik didn’t need tears to show pain.

His silence screamed louder.

His hands gripped the wheel, but his soul felt untethered  like something had just quietly broken inside him, and he didn’t even know where to hold the pieces.

He whispered under his breath like a surrender, like a goodbye:

“Aapki khushi mere liye zyada zaroori hai, Miss Khan…”

But the lump in his throat refused to ease.

He looked up  at the vast sky above

A sky that never answered.

A sky that watched everyone’s stories but said nothing.

And finally… his voice cracked — low, broken, raw:

“Ya Allah…
Ab bas.

Main itna mazboot nahi hoon…
Har baar umeed milti hai,
Aur har baar…
Umeed toot jaati hai.

Mat aazma mujhe is tarah.
Iss baar…
Toot gaya toh jud paunga ya nahi…
Mujhe nahi pata.”

(Oh Allah…
Enough now.

I’m not that strong…
Every time I find hope,
And every time…
That hope shatters.

Don’t test me like this.
This time…
If I break,
I don’t know if I’ll be able to heal again.)

And just like that… Zarian Malik, the man the world saw as steel...
folded into silence.

Not defeated by rejection,

but by love unspoken.

Love unreturned.

Love… sacrificed.

Because her smile was more important to him than his own heart.

And sometimes, real love isn’t about holding on.

It’s about knowing when to let go… gently.

Even if it breaks you.

Today he realised something

Kisko paane ke liye, sirf mohabbat kaafi nahi hoti - 
Naseeb bhi chahiye hota hai 

(To have someone, love alone is not enough – you need fate too.)
.
.
.

Zarian had thrown himself into work not out of ambition, but survival.

The more noise he surrounded himself with, the easier it was to silence the ache. The memories. The echo of dreams he never voiced.

He buried himself in spreadsheets and meetings, pretending the cracks in his heart weren’t growing louder each second.

Because if he slowed down…

even for a second…

he knew the silence would devour him.

The silence where his soul screamed,

where his heart shattered quietly begging for someone, anyone,
to hold it for just a moment.

It was past 12:30 a.m. when he finally decided to head home. The streets were nearly empty, and the cold wind outside whispered things he wasn’t ready to hear.

His car moved through the night  smooth, steady — until suddenly…

He slammed the brakes.

There it was.

That car.

He would never forget it — the same car that once followed him, just to say a simple, heartfelt thank you.

But tonight… it was parked strangely. Still.

Too still.

Concern immediately clouded his face. He stepped out quickly, the weight in his chest growing heavier with every step.

He approached the window and knocked gently.

The girl inside visibly flinched.

But the moment her eyes met his… she relaxed.

Ayeda.

She opened the door slowly, and he saw it  fear written all over her face. She looked exhausted, shaken… like she had been sitting there for hours.

And the words left his lips before he could think:

“Ya Allah… kya haal kar liya hai apne apna?”

His voice was soft laced with worry, guilt, something deeper.

"The whole day, he drowned himself in work
not to find peace, but to forget her.
Yet in the end…
peace found him the moment he saw her face.”

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