Jaan-e-Azlan❤

40

Mantasha stood in front of the mirror, fixing her dupatta, hair tied loosely the way she preferred for university. The house buzzed with its usual noise—Ammi in the kitchen, someone calling out for chai, Azlan already gone since early morning for work.

At breakfast, Shahida teased her lightly.
“Roz roz uni ja ke thak nahi jaati?”

Mantasha winked. “Aadat ho gayi hai, dadi.”

Azlan wasn’t there to walk her to the gate, wasn’t hovering with questions. Just a short message on her phone earlier:

> Reach safely.

That was it.

She did.

University was busy—lectures, notes, a small quiz she hadn’t expected but managed fine.

Lectures ran long, her head throbbed slightly, and by the time she stepped out of university, the sun had already begun its descent.

In afternoon, Azlan was pulled into an unexpected meeting that refused to end. He checked his watch twice, irritation tightening his jaw.

“She’s done?” he asked sharply into the phone.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied. “I’m outside the university gate.”

“Good. Straight home.”

Mantasha spotted the car as soon as she stepped out, relief softening her tired shoulders. She slid into the back seat, greeting the driver politely before leaning her head against the window.

The city blurred past. Traffic slowed near a signal—cars boxed in from every side.

That’s when she felt it.

A sharp tap on the window beside her.

She turned, confused.

A man stood outside, leaning slightly toward the glass. Well-dressed. Ordinary. Too ordinary.

He smiled.
Her stomach dropped.
His eyes didn’t smile.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand—and pressed a folded piece of paper against the window, right where her face was.

Mantasha froze.

The signal turned green. The driver accelerated without noticing.

The man stepped back, still smiling, watching the car disappear.

Her breath came shallow now. She stared at the window where the paper had been, heart racing.

Did that just happen?

“Mantasha bibi?” the driver asked through the rearview mirror. “Sab theek hai?”

She swallowed. Forced herself to nod. “Jee… bas thora headache hai.”
Her hands clenched in her lap.

The rest of the ride passed in silence.
At home, she went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her. Only then did she allow herself to sit on the bed, pulse hammering.

Her phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.

>You look tired after university.
Next time, smile.

Her blood turned cold.
The room felt smaller. The walls closer.

This wasn’t coincidence.
This wasn’t random.
Someone had seen her.
Someone had been waiting.

And worse—
Someone knew her routine.

Downstairs, Azlan walked in just moments later, shrugging off his coat.