THE END OF LOVE

"The End Of Love" (part 04)

EPISODE 04

The next morning's sun was pleasant. At Ibrahim Villa, everyone was busy with their preparations. Ibrahim Sahab, a tall and healthy man with a mix of white and black hair and a short beard, was standing in front of the dressing table, spraying perfume. Laiba, who was getting ready for her institute, had long, loose black hair, wore a short black kurti with pink embroidery and blue bell-bottom pants. She rarely wore a dupatta, and today was no exception. She wore earrings and black joggers and looked nice. She entered Ibrahim Sahab's room.

"Dad, I might be a little late today. I have to go to Kinza's house to give her some notes," she said in a way that made it hard for anyone to refuse. He agreed.

"But don't be too late, Laiba. The situation outside isn't good," he said with concern.

After saying goodbye, she went to drop Mala off at the university, while Ulfat Begum was at Barerah's house.

Meanwhile, the scene at Qasar-e-Sikandar was different under the bright sun. Sikandar Usman was taking Ali Usman to his office, and Hina had taken Rehana to show her the boutique she opened a month ago. Samreen was still asleep, her jet lag not yet over. Suleiman had woken up a bit late and came out of the bathroom looking fresh. He was in the living room, looking attractive as usual, preparing for the office. While adjusting his tie pin, his phone buzzed. It was an unknown number, which wasn't unusual for him since he rarely saved numbers.

He answered, and a girl's voice came through. "Assalamualaikum! I'm Laiba, a friend of Saad's friend Kinza. We met at the bookstore? Can we meet?" She didn't mention she wanted to return the money, which was just as well since he wouldn't have taken it. It was clear she didn't like to owe anyone.

"Okay, I'll meet you," he replied. As soon as he hung up, another message beeped. "Street No. 1, 26th Cafe Flo, time: 3:00 PM." He looked at it and closed his phone with a sigh, ready to leave for the office. As he was stepping out of his room, Samreen, who had just woken up, called out to him.

"Suleiman..." fastening his watch, he turned around.

"Where are you going?" she asked hesitantly.

"Ummm, I'm going to hell, do you want to come?" he replied with a displeased look and walked away, leaving her stomping back to her room in frustration.

The evening was cool, and he was sitting in the cafe, glancing at his watch and looking around, feeling bored. Then he saw a familiar girl approaching. She was so beautiful that anyone would have fallen for her, but he was Suleiman Sikandar; he knew how to control his heart and mind. As she approached with a smile, he respectfully stood up. He wore a white collar shirt with a black vest and coat, his hair gelled back. He was so handsome that anyone could look at him all their life and still not be satisfied. Laiba felt the same but composed herself (after all, her engagement ceremony had just happened the day before). She smiled, nodded in greeting, and sat down. He also sat.

"I brought these," she said, pushing a few currency notes across the table. "Thank you so much for helping that day," she added, looking a bit embarrassed.

He smiled slightly and leaned back. "I don't take money back," he said calmly.

"And I don't keep debts," she replied quickly. He leaned forward and whispered, "Let's order something... I'm hungry," then leaned back and signaled the waiter, ordering a few things.

A few moments later, while twirling a prawn with his fork, he asked, "So, what do you do?"

"I'm in the last semester of ACCA," she said, sipping her coffee.

"And you?" the steam from her coffee slightly misting her face, creating a serene atmosphere as they sat talking.

"I'm a businessman," he said, signaling for the bill. The waiter placed the bill on the table and stood there. Suleiman leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Can you pay my bill? I forgot my wallet at home," he whispered with a smile, glancing at the few currency notes under Laiba's clutch. She stared at him, bewildered, as the whole scene seemed to change in a moment. Was he captivating her, or was she falling under his spell? It was unclear. Laiba, still staring at his face, was speechless. The waiter's cough brought them back to reality. Laiba paid the bill and, after a few parting words, left the cafe.

He watched her leave with a suppressed smile. Well, now he also needed to get home.

The night was dark and eerie, the streets deserted with only dim yellow lights. She was running barefoot, crying. A man, holding a knife, was chasing her, and she kept running, running until suddenly he appeared in front of her. She screamed, "No, no, no!" She woke up with a start, gasping for breath, looking around frantically. Her breathing was heavy, as if she had just escaped a great danger. She quickly got up, grabbed the jug and glass of water from the side table, and drank. Sitting on the bed, still shaken, she prayed, "Oh Allah, have mercy on me, protect me from the evil and keep me safe." Her breath was still labored.

At this hour of the night, while darkness covered everything and everyone was asleep, somewhere a lively scene was unfolding. The sound of music filled the air as boys and girls danced in joy. Alcohol bottles were scattered everywhere-some on the floor, some on tables, some in people's hands, and some on the counter. Amidst this, a man sat, completely drunk. He was wearing grey skinny jeans and a black collared shirt with the collar open, his slightly long hair disheveled. Someone called out to him from behind. He turned around and laughed, the kind of laugh only a drunk person would have.

"Where have you been..." he laughed loudly, "I've been waiting for you, look, look, Lilly!" he was saying, laughing, "I think you've had too much to drink, Hammad. I'm not Lilly, I'm Mahpara," she said with regret, looking at him. "I've told you not to drink so much. Get up, come on, I'll take you home. You're in no condition to drive."

"Let go of my hand!" he roared, his eyes wild with rage. She immediately took a step back, frightened, and ran away from there in terror. The night was about to turn into day, and he lay on the couch in the same condition.

The fresh morning breeze made everything feel pleasant. Everyone was busy with their tasks. Meanwhile, on the 4th floor of a tall building, there was a buzz of activity. If you walk straight from the reception and turn right, behind one of the doors, Ibrahim Sahab was seated in his office chair. Across from him, on the left, sat Sikandar Usman, and on the right, Ali Usman. A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of each of them.

"Mr. Usman, when are we starting work on the new project?" Ibrahim Sahab asked.

"Whenever you say, Mr. Ibrahim. Though, I was hoping Ali could take some shares in our company as well, but he never has time," Sikandar said, gesturing towards Ali Usman.

"Oh, of course, why not? By the way, how's Suleiman's company doing?" Ibrahim Sahab inquired.

"Don't even ask," Sikandar replied, "He's handled everything exceptionally well. I'm very satisfied with him."And so their conversation continued.