preference delights

" A Modest Prince ."

Chapter 3

Salaar was a man with an introverted nature, preferring to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself rather than expressing them outwardly. Despite his reserved demeanor and desire to maintain a low profile, he often found himself the center of attention. His captivating looks made him quite popular at Cambridge University, where he was particularly admired by many girls for his physique and good looks.

In contrast to Zarmeena's small family, Salaar came from a large and influential one. He was the grandson of Muhammad Nawaz Malik, one of the richest men in the country. Malik Nawaz was a self-made man who had spent his entire life working tirelessly, and after his death, he left behind a vast empire for his descendants.

Muhammad Nawaz Malik had three sons: Shahnawaz Malik, Faizan Malik, and Zawar Malik. Shahnawaz Malik had one son and two daughters, all of whom were married, and their children were only a few years younger than Salaar. Malik Faizan had two sons: Malik Taimur and Malik Salaar. There was almost a ten-year age gap between the brothers.

Taimur had married the daughter of a famous bureaucrat when he was only twenty-two and now had a thirteen-year-old son. Although Malik Zawar had no children, he and his wife doted on their nephews and nieces as if they were their own.

Salaar returned from university still pondering. He strained himself but couldn't get Zarmeena out of his mind. It wasn't that he was the flirtatious type; in fact, throughout his life, he'd met many girls, and though he was attracted to a few, none had ever left such a lasting impression on him. He found himself mulling over her deeply, which was unusual for him.

"Salaar, my son, you're back," a frail familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. An eighty-year-old woman with a wrinkled face and a sweet smile looked at him affectionately.

"Dado (grandmother)," he exclaimed, immediately rising to his feet.

"Why did you trouble yourself? You should have called me instead. I would have come to your room." He gently held her hands and helped her sit on the sofa.

"Never mind," she replied politely. "At my age, it's good to move around a little." She leaned back on the sofa and exclaimed, "How was your first day at university?" Again, her image played on the screen of his mind, but he forced her out of his thoughts.

"It wasn't great. As expected, Fahad didn't pick up my call, and I got into a bit of trouble," Salaar explained the whole story to Dado, but to his surprise, Dado instantly got anxious.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed with an alarming tone. "What happened? Are you fine now? Did Fahad reach you?" she gasped. She knew about Fahad's easygoing nature and had given him several reminders before Salaar's visit to university.

"Relax, Dado, I'm fine. I found Fahad soon afterward, and he was the one who guided me around the campus," Salaar reassured her, but Dado still seemed concerned.

"I told Faizan not to disturb the child...only a few months are left in your studies. But Faizan is Faizan...prefers molding children's lives according to his choice," Dado said furiously. She couldn't help hiding her fury at Salaar's father.

"It's alright, Dado. I understand his position. He's worried about his health deteriorating, and he's right-in times of trouble, a family should stand together. Please, keep yourself calm and don't worry about me. I'll manage," sensing Dado's frustration, Salaar declared thoughtfully.

"God bless you, son. I was so stressed about how you would handle all this, but you've grown into a mature man. You've learned how to handle things and given peace to my restless mind," Dado sighed with relief. Salaar curved his lips into a beautiful smile, thinking of Dado always treating him like a kid.

Salaar carefully escorted Dado to her room. On the way back to his room, he pledged to flush out all the distractions from his mind, but still, sleep eluded him that night.

---

The next day, Salaar hurried up the stairs of his department. Even though the sun wasn't particularly harsh, he still wasn't used to the summer heat here. His fair face flushed from the heat, but he ignored it and quickened his pace to avoid being late for class. He hadn't managed to attend any classes the previous day, but today, he was determined not to miss any.

"Hi," he heard Fahad's voice behind him. Salaar stopped for a moment, tilted his head, and gazed at Fahad, who was only a few steps behind him. Salaar nodded in response to his greeting and continued ascending the stairs.

"Brother, why are you in such a rush?" Fahad demanded, keeping pace with him.

"I'm late for my class," Salaar replied without slowing down.

"Bro, take a breath. There are still fifteen minutes left until class. The schedule changed due to the new semester," Fahad revealed, making Salaar stop immediately. He stared at Fahad for a moment, his foot declining on the stair he had just stepped on.

"Oh, Fahad, you should have told me. Why keep a phone if you don't use it?" Salaar snapped, criticizing Fahad's habit of not answering his phone.

"Sorry, bro, but please don't tell Dado about this. Last night, she scolded me for not taking proper care of you," Fahad said, expressing his fear of getting nagged by Dado.

"Okay, okay, don't worry, I won't tell her," Salaar reassured him. "I'm not so fragile that I need you to take care of me," Salaar added, slightly annoyed at Dado's overprotectiveness.

"Fragile?" Fahad repeated and started giggling. "Look at you! You can't even tolerate the temperature here," his giggles turned into uproarious laughter.

"Bro, I'm telling you, you should carry a portable air conditioner with you, or else you won't be able to control your changing facial tones." He uttered this in such a hilarious way that Salaar also started beaming.

---

Salaar entered the classroom and noticed that his classmates seemed a bit astonished by his entry; a few were even pointing at him. Ignoring their gestures, he secured an empty seat in the second row.

As he sat down, he heard the murmuring and chuckling of the girls sitting behind him.

One of them whispered, "Oh my God, he's too good to be a celebrity."

The other added, "Can you pinch me, please? He's too handsome to be real."

Salaar was used to such remarks, so they didn't faze him.

The sound of a chair being pulled caught his attention. A dark-skinned, slim, and tall boy with jet-black hair, who appeared to be about Salaar's age, seated himself beside him. With a warm smile, the boy extended his hand for a handshake.

"Hello! I'm Jawad. Welcome to our class," the boy said.

Salaar took his hand in greeting and smiled back. "I'm Salaar," he casually introduced himself.

"I know you. You're Fahad's cousin," Jawad uttered with a grin, leaving Salaar surprised.

"You know Fahad?" Salaar demanded, still a bit astonished since Fahad was in a different faculty.

"Actually, we got acquainted during sports sessions. We're both on the volleyball team," Jawad revealed, which made Salaar let out a little sigh.

They were about to continue their conversation, but their attention shifted as the teacher entered the room.