Zara's POV

"You are still up?"

Discovering him in front of me leaves me speechless. Due to whom I flee from the room is standing here: gazing at me with an ambiguous expression. Should I just head back without sparing a second glance at him? But at this moment, the only place I can go is that room which once belonged to him; where I can still inhale his cologne despite he no longer uses that room. What is seriously going on with me these days?

"I am unable to sleep. What about you?" I ask him back.

"Same here. It's also past my sleeping time, " he replies and turns back to face the handrail.

Does he have a sleeping time for himself? It's so funny that someone like him can be this punctual even for his sleep too.

"Why you are still standing there? Come here."

I come out of my thought when he calls me. He is already looking at me with his hands still positioned on the railing. Is he asking me to join him? I hesitate before walking towards him. The weather is pleasant; not that chilly or not that hot. The slow invigorating breeze colloid against my face prompting my hair to sway around as soon as I reach in the front of the railing. The white luster of the small bulbs on the superior wall is letting me enough to see his handsome face, yet his swollen eyes don't get unnoticed by me.

"I can't believe you would have a sleeping schedule for yourself, " I let out a laugh.

He looks at me with a dubious look as he doesn't get what I mean. After a while, he shrugs his eyebrows in amusement and chuckles. His eyes get narrowed when he smiles. This is the first time, I have noticed this trait of him. Unknowingly, I smile seeing his glistening eyes.

"I am an early person since my childhood. It has become my habit now, " he answers.

"Because of your mother?"

The smile on his face fades away all of a sudden. It's like he doesn't like what I have just said.

"How do you know this?"

"I don't know this but this kind of advice is always given by our parents. Don't you think?" I clutch the railing in both hands.

"For me, it's just my mother," he mumbles.

Despite the keen desire to ask him about this vague answer of him, I let it slide away as he may not answer me. He has always been averting the issue about his parents; especially his father.

"Do you want to have coffee?" He asks.

"At this time?" I ask back with strangeness. I am already not able to sleep and drinking coffee means no sleep for a good amount of time.

"What's wrong with this? It's already four. After a while, it will be morning, " he explains.

He is right. I look up at the sky. The sun is just around to come out as the medallion faded orange radiance is adorning the still-dark sky.

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I contently stare at Armaan who is diligently stirring the chocolate in the coffee. I fold my arms on my chest as I procure support with the shelve in the kitchen. A smile crosses my lips looking at the way his hands are moving like a professional. I mouth a thank you when I take the cup from his hand.

I smoothly brush the sides of the mouth of the cup as my eyes linger on the creamy coffee. The aroma which is transpiring out of the coffee is enough for me to make a guess about the rich flavor of this coffee. I sip the coffee and higher than my expectation- it's so relishing and tasty.

"How is it?" Armaan asks as he makes himself settle on one of the chairs of the dining table. I can comprehend the hue of amusement in his voice.

"It's good, " I show him a smile.

"What can you expect from a chef's son?" He says proudly.

I squint in eyes in bewilderment.

"Self-centered much. Arent you?" I put my hands on my waist.

"Everyone is self-centered to some extent, Zara. Being self-center doesn't always mean you are arrogant or pretentious. You should be able to love yourself and when you love your own being, that doesn't render you a self-centered person, " he asserts.

I always like these viewpoints of his. How he is always optimistic; and somehow finds positivity in everything. He has wholly changed my perspective on life. But all of his sanguinity drifts away whenever he talks about his parent. A gloomy, pessimistic, and despised manner comes in his intonation whenever his father is mentioned.

"Can I ask you one thing?" I put the empty cup of coffee on the side shelf.

"What is it?"

"The relation between you and your father. I mean, I have never seen you talking to him like normal children do. Is there anything on which you people don't get along?"

Again his face goes stern and grim; totally opposite from a while ago. His lips purse into a thin line as I can see the grip of his fingers on the cup gets tighter. He stomps the cup harshly on the table. This again makes me question myself about my question. Should I never ask him about his father?

"He is not my father. He is just a businessman; a hungry businessman who wants to gain money at any cost, even if this costs his near ones too. He has killed my mother and I will never forgive him."

My eyes get wide in dread listening to his confession. His father has killed his wife? He can't possibly do this.

"He has killed your mother?" I was telling this more to me than asking him.

"Yes, everything which he has now was hers. The business, the property, and the wealth: each and everything belonged to my mother. He ambushed into marrying him, even made her flee from her home as her parents weren't in the support of her relationship. He exhorted her to name everything pertained by her to him and then left her," he stops as his breath hitches.

He rubs his eyes with his palms probably to calm himself down. I can't believe Mr. Raissani can be this evil.

"He didn't allow her to meet us, her children. Of course, as he becomes the powerful one then. Still, I used to meet my mother secretly but every time I asked to stay forever with her, she denied and urged me to go back to him otherwise she would get angry with me and won't talk with me at all. And then she died in the wait to meet her children. Her vow is the reason I am still staying with him."

I have never thought he has suffered this much, the terrible of this is he has got this from his own father. I can see his eyes shimmering with tears as he takes long breathes. I walk toward him and place my hand on his shoulder.

"I am so sorry to hear this. But just think of this as you are doing this for her sake. I am sure she will be happy to see you still giving importance to her words," I beam with a smile.

He looks up at me and to my surprise, he takes my hand laying on his shoulder in his hand. I stare at my hand which is covered by his both hands, in a baffled state when he clutches my hand tightly.

Zainab's POV

My eyes sparkle at the sight of lavender-pink strawberry ice cream laying in the contour of scoops in the elegantly designed cup. I pick up the spatula in enthusiasm and poke it into one of the two pink frosts like balls.

"Hmm wow!" I exclaim in fervor and close my eyes when the tangy coldness strikes my tongue.

I take another bite before it can reach my mouth, my gaze comes to a halt inferring the still full cup of ice cream settling in an inert state in front of Shaiq. But his face and fingers are disseminating a totally conflicting story; his fingers are making a perfect rhythm on the table as his facial expressions are following that beat.

"Eat the ice cream already, Shaiq. You won't get obese by just one cup of ice cream, " I instruct him. My voice getting heavy due to the bulk of ice cream in my mouth.

"Nopes! I don't want to lose my figure. And do you have an idea, how much calories this ice area offers?" He crosses his arms on his chest.

I stare at his so-called figure. He is perfectly fit. He doesn't even have the need to go to the gym. I can already see his biceps popping from the half sleeve of his black T-shirt.

"You are not out of your figure at all. Ungrateful much, huh?"

"That's not ungratefulness. Sweetheart, I have fame at the University. Do you want me to lose my fame?"

I glare at him at the sweetheart. How many times I have told this dumb to not call me by this cheap name.

"Not fame, this is called flirting. I don't think you have left any girl in our University for doing your flirt, " I spat in despise.

"I don't invite any girl to me, okay? They themselves come after me so what I can do. Like, your cousin has got the most handsome face then why are you getting jealous?" He smirks.

"Hahaha. Very funny. I am seriously feeling so sorry for the girl whom you will get married in the future. The poor girl who will have to marry a flirt like you." I shove the spatula in my mouth.

When I don't get any counter-attack from him, I look up at him only to get by brows grit in uncertainty beholding all the colors of his face getting wither. His eyes pop out in astound as they linger behind me.

"Look behind, Zainab!" He mumbles.

I turn my face behind to get the biggest shock in my life. What is he doing here? And in this state?

        
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Salam guys!

I am back with another chapter. So much has happened this week as I had lost this account. But Alhamdullilah I have got it back now.

Who do you think Zainab and Shaiq have seen?

💟A mini-game💟

Whoever will tell the right answer, I will dedicate the next chapter to him/ her.