•𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐚𝐛| ✓

𝑵𝒊𝒏𝒆||𝑬𝒗𝒊𝒍

As time flowed by, a noticeable shift enveloped the surroundings. Anabia withdrew into a realm of silence, confining her conversations solely to her daughter. Amidst the quiet, her contemplations centered incessantly on Aliya—an enigma she longed to decipher.

At the tender age of 22, Anabia found herself bound to Rameez, the son of her father's close friend—a simple primary school teacher in Islamabad with a modest Rs 25,000 salary. Initially, Anabia bore the strains without complaint, but as days unfolded, family needs expanded, and expenses multiplied.

A peculiar family logic dictated that Rameez, as the eldest son after their father, should shoulder the entire financial burden. This idiosyncratic arrangement became their norm. The situation intensified with Aliya's birth, leading to relentless disputes with Rameez.

Adding to Anabia's woes, Saima, her sister, intermittently flaunted her husband's affluence, recounting tales of lavish gifts from Anabia's own brother. Saima even planted the seed of divorce, a notion that lingered but never materialized. Eventually, Rameez took matters into his own hands, divorcing Anabia and disavowing any claim to Aliya.

While he sent a meager sum for Aliya's sustenance, Anabia vehemently refused, stoking her anger. The crucible of poverty from which she emerged sculpted her belief that without money, nothing substantial could transpire. After the divorce, Karim Shah, her brother, assumed responsibility for Aliya's education, yet Saima's disparaging remarks continued to cast shadows on their lives.

Anabia aspired for Aliya to marry into affluence, believing it would pave the way for a contented life. Aliya, sharing the aspiration for a prosperous future, understood that wealth alone couldn't fulfill every desire, particularly matters of the heart.

In the complex tapestry of emotions, Aliya longed for Arsalan's reciprocated love. Despite pouring her affection towards him, she found herself yearning for a connection that remained elusive. In this intricate dance of aspirations and unfulfilled desires, Aliya's heart held on to the hope that someday, love would bridge the chasm she felt within.

As the days unfolded, Arsalan and Rubaab found solace in their happiness. Arsalan, recognizing the importance of education, encouraged Rubaab to join college. However, on her inaugural day, Rubaab unleashed a torrent of protest, adamant about avoiding the college experience.

Amidst this domestic narrative, Rubaab took on the role of a culinary artist, preparing a savory spaghetti lunch. As she pondered Arsalan's possible neglect of breakfast during a crucial office meeting, a sigh escaped her lips. Lost in thought, she pouted, contemplating the possibility that he might have gone without a meal since morning.

Sana, noticing Rubaab's contemplative mood, inquired, "Oe bhabhi, kya hua?" Rubaab shared her concern about Arsalan's skipped meals due to an essential construction-related meeting. Sana suggested a simple solution, advising Rubaab to take lunch to Arsalan at his office. Convinced, Rubaab considered the logistics, admitting, "Mujhe to pata hi nahi kahan jana hai."

(what happened)
(Idk where to go?)

With a reassuring smile, Sana suggested, "Han to driver uncle le kar jaenge na... tum jakar tiyar hojao phir chale jana." Rubaab nodded, and with a smile, she hastened upstairs to get ready, oblivious to Aliya overhearing their conversation.

(The driver will take you, go get ready)

In the kitchen, Aliya seized an opportunity to manipulate the situation. Swiftly grabbing a box of red chili powder, she concocted a spicy mixture, pouring it over Rubaab's spaghetti. Satisfied with her mischief, Aliya left the kitchen, reveling in her perceived triumph.

After a while, Rubaab returned to pack the meal along with sparkling lemon water. Upon reaching the door, she found the driver waiting. "Arsalan k office chalen, uncle," she instructed. The driver nodded, and their journey commenced.

(Lets go to arsalan office)

Upon arrival, Rubaab stepped out of the car, adjusting her dupatta and straightening her kameez. The towering building before her seemed to magnify the daunting nature of her surroundings. Entering the office, she was met with a sea of individuals, adorned in layers of makeup and professional attire. Unbeknownst to her, Rubaab's innate innocence and simplicity garnered unspoken admiration.

Dressed in a charming baby pink shalwar kameez, with a length just above her knees, Rubaab captivated attention. Devoid of heavy makeup, except for a hint of lip gloss, she stood out, inadvertently attracting the eyes of those around her.

Clutching her purse with one hand and holding the carefully prepared lunch in the other, she approached the receptionist. A tap on the counter garnered the receptionist's attention, who, upon seeing Rubaab's youthful countenance, rolled her eyes, leaving Rubaab taken aback.

"G farmaiya mohtarma?" the receptionist inquired, causing Rubaab to greet her nervously. "Wo...Mujhe Arsalan k office jana hai," she stammered. The receptionist scrutinized her with a raised eyebrow, making Rubaab shrink under the gaze.

(Yes madame)
(Umm, I wanna go to Arsalan's office)

"Koi appointment hai apki?" Rubaab shook her head. "Then you can't go... Ye office bacho ka interview nahi karta. You can go now." Rubaab, persisting, clarified, "Nahi, mai... Interview k lie nahi ai. Mujhe Arsalan k pass jana hai." Unbeknownst to the office staff, the CEO was the focus of her visit.

(Do you have any appointment?)
(Then you cant go, this office doesn't interview kids)
(No, I am not here for Interview, I am here for arsalan)

A voice from behind interjected, "Jis ko ap bar bar Arsalan keh rahi hain, wo yahan k CEO hain!" Rubaab turned to find another girl with a demeanor akin to the receptionist. Close to tears, Rubaab felt the injustice of it all.

(The one you are calling arsalan again and again, is the CEO)

"Jao warna mai security ko bula lungi," threatened the receptionist. Suppressing her frustration, Rubaab refrained from any confrontation. "Nahi...a-ap Arsalan s-se call karke p-pochen wo m-mana nahi k-karenge," she stammered. Laughter erupted from the girls, oblivious to Rubaab's emotional turmoil. Her tears betrayed her, and she bit her lip to control the overwhelming surge of emotions.

(Go or else, I will call security)
(No, you can all arsalan to ask)

"Yar kyun bachi ko tang kia hua hai... Dekho kitna piyara roo rahi hai..." a man's voice intervened, melting the hearts of onlookers. The man stood beside Rubaab, a tad too close for her comfort. Overwhelmed, Rubaab yearned for Arsalan's comforting embrace.

(Dont tease the kid, look hoe cutely she is crying)

Suddenly recalling her phone, she dialed Arsalan's number with shaky hands, seeking the solace of his voice. "Hello Rubaab," his gentle voice echoed through the phone, but she couldn't hold back her tiny cries. "Rubaab... meri jaan, kya hua hai? Rone kyun rahi ho?" concern laced his words.

(Rubaab my love what happened?)

"W-wo main a-apka khana la-lai thi... b-but koi ane nahi deraha," she softly explained. Their laughter reached her ears again, further emphasizing her role as an unwitting entertainer. Cutting the call, Arsalan swiftly descended the stairs.

(I wanna come to you but no one is letting me)

"Hogaya drama... Ap niklo yahan se... GUARDs! Nikalo ise yahan se!" the receptionist exclaimed, gesturing towards the guards to remove Rubaab.

(Enough is enough, guards, take her out)

However, before they could advance, a commanding voice boomed, "STOP RIGHT THERE," leaving them gasping. Turning around, they witnessed Arsalan marching towards them like an imminent storm—a harbinger of salvation. A moment of reckoning had arrived, casting an ominous shadow over the unfolding drama.