A/N:
I was watching a Pakistani drama with Zara Noor Abbas Siddiqui as the main female lead and the more I observed her, the more I literally could not imagine Zoya Zameer looking like anyone else.

~
"Peace be upon you for what you patiently endured." (Qur'an 13:24)
~

Zoya slaps a file on the table. The employee flinches.

"What is this, Farhan?"

"Ma'am, it's—it's the concept designs you asked for."

Zoya leans back and stares him down. "Why are you stuttering?"

"N-No reason."

Zoya begins to giggle, and the tension on Farhan's face diminishes momentarily. "I was going to tell you that they're done really well." She pauses. "You had help."

Farhan fidgets, eyebrows furrowed. "I just wanted to get some of the concepts looked over and finalized with—uh—with the new intern. Haroun."

Zoya raises her brows. "I see." Of course it was him. "Leave."

"P-Pardon, Ms. Zoya?" Farhan's face contorts in worry.

Zoya stares at him pointedly. "We're done with this discussion. Good job. Great. I really have nothing else to say to you, and you're holding up my meeting with an agent, so leave."

"Uh—okay. Thank you."

When Farhan leaves, Zoya returns to the designs in front of her. "Interesting, Mr. Haroun Suleiman. You've already become friends with your coworkers."

For a distracted moment, she halts in flipping through the file and reaches into her desk drawer. An absentminded smile makes its way onto her face as she pulls out Haroun's résumé and brushes slow fingers across his picture.

"You're something, aren't you?" she whispers.

~

Meanwhile, Farhan rushes out of the hallway of Zoya's office, a frustrated look on his face. The balls of his feet barely touch the floor as he angrily heads to his cubicle.

He collides into someone and stumbles backward.

"Whoa, man. What's the hurry?" Haroun chuckles, then backtracks at the expression on Farhan's face. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing. I was just gonna file a report with HR," Farhan replies angrily, then sighs at Haroun's raised brows. "Sorry, man. I just don't understand why that woman hates me so much."

Haroun knits his brows. "Are you talking about Ms. Zoya?"

Farhan's eyes widen. "Is it that obvious?"

Haroun purses his lips, shaking his head. "No, I was just—"

"Oh, man, it is that obvious. I knew I wasn't the only one who noticed." Farhan's eyes dart around before he leans in. "She's like a chipkali, man. A lizard." Haroun flinches, but Farhan is oblivious to his reaction. "She'll suck up to you when it's necessary, and then suddenly she's bolting high and far away from you. How can someone so pretty be so vicious? I don't understand what her problem with me is! She literally looks at me like she wants to squeeze my brain to a pulp. And mind you, there isn't much of it for her to squeeze, anyway. This job has weakened my entire prefrontal cortex, the logical area of my brain. Now I act on my emotions, my amygdala, constantly thinking, 'Oh, no, what will Ms. Zoya say?' And God knows what top secret mission she's conducting in her office nowadays. She's having secret meetings with business contractors of other companies and international agents or something. If someone so much as walks by, she snaps at them."

Haroun seems thoroughly confused. "Business contractors and international agents?"

"I don't care, man!" Farhan says agitatedly, running a hand through his hair. "She's ruthless. And you know what—"

Haroun places a hand on Farhan's shoulder. "Farhan, relax. I don't think you should talk about her like that, no matter how you feel about her—"

"No, no, let him continue," an amused voice says. Both guys quickly turn around.

Their CEO is leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway, arms folded and posture relaxed, eyes bright and eager. She absentmindedly tugs at her hair, pulling loose strands out.

Farhan looks as if he's going to pee his pants.

Despite the tense situation, Haroun holds back a laugh. His amygdala is probably going haywire right now.

"Chipkali, huh? That's pretty creative, I gotta tell you." Zoya wraps loose hair around her fingers and throws it in the trash can near her. Haroun's eyes stray to the large circle of fallen hair, eyebrows knitting. "Snake, I've heard. Witch, I've also heard. But chipkali? Now that deserves an award," Zoya laughs and begins to applaud.

Farhan's face turns ashen.

"N-No, Ms. Zoya. I wasn't talking about you—"

Zoya turns to Haroun and rolls her eyes as if to say, Can you believe this guy? "Farhan, save it. Can you please come to my office?"

Farhan looks as if he would rather pour hot tea all over himself. "I-Is that necessary?"

"Yes. You can say all those things to me in my office." She spins on her heel, then turns back around. "Oh, and you too," she points to Haroun before heading to her office.

An indent appears between Haroun's eyebrows. "Wait, why me?"

Zoya's footsteps slow. "I want to talk to you guys about something," she says without turning around.

Haroun and Farhan follow her to her office, the latter of whom clenches and unclenches his fists. "I'm dead. I'm finished, bro. After Ms. Zoya fires me, my mom is gonna make me work at her brother's IT company, and I swear I'm gonna plummet into depression after staring at all those computer screens for days. I'm gonna lose what's left of my freaking mind, I'm telling you. You know how much I hate comp sci, right?"

"You know IT and comp sci are two separate things, right?" Haroun says.

"Whatever!" Farhan huffs. "That just proves my point."

Haroun chuckles, his dimple flashing. To alleviate his friend's tension, he jokes, "Get ready to code in Python."

Farhan elbows him. "You're the worst, man!"

Zoya turns around when they're in her office and winks. "I hear Java isn't that bad."

Farhan gulps, and the CEO rolls her eyes. "Relax. I'm not firing you." For the fleetest moment, her eyes flick to Haroun, but she looks away so quickly he thinks he may have imagined it. "But I need you as the lead for this new project."

Farhan's expression shifts from fear to utter surprise. "What project?"

"We've been offered a place in the annual Desi World Fashion Show, and I want you to lead the project." Zoya pauses, cocking her head at Farhan. "I've talked to the board about this. We want you to assemble a team, figure out finances, meet with the designers, and finalize models. We would like to see a presentation with the logistics in two weeks."

Farhan's eyes are wide with disbelief.

Haroun, observing from a more objective point of view, gets a bad feeling. From the little I know of him, Farhan cracks under pressure. Begrudgingly he thinks, And she does seem to be extra hard on him.

"Ms. Zoya, may I give a suggestion?" he blurts out.

The CEO turns her full, intense focus on him. Haroun remains steady, resolute. "Is it possible for me to co-lead? Farhan will have some support, and I'll become familiar with the extensive Zameer experience."

Zoya taps a nail against her lips, contemplating his words. Farhan's breath hitches, and Haroun is shocked to see the intense warmth in his friend's eyes. "Hmm." She pauses for a few seconds. "I summoned you in here because I wanted you, as a relatively new employee, to participate in the project to some degree as well, but co-leading is a reasonable option. I'll run it by the board, but that's completely fine with me."

Haroun nods, glancing at his relieved friend. "Thank you, Ms. Zoya."

"Koi baat nahi. You guys may leave now."

As soon as they exit, Farhan grabs Haroun's arm. "First of all, what the hell? She's suddenly in a good mood. Second, she just gave me such a huge opportunity. And third, you literally saved my life back there. I would not have been able to do this on my own. Fourth, what the hell is your effect on her, man? She turns into an angel when she sees you." He halts. "What's going on? Koi chakkar chal raha hai?"

Haroun's face grows serious. "No, man."

Farhan shrugs. "Yeah, you don't seem like the type to me anyway."

Haroun furrows his eyebrows. "The type?"

"You know, the type who would start anything premarital. Especially not with someone like her."

Haroun tenses and reaches up to run his hand through his hair. "Yaar, Farhan, I really like you. Please don't say things like that."

Farhan's eyes widen. "What did I say?"

Haroun's tone is soft, eyes apologetic. "Assumptions about her character. We never know the state of anyone's heart."

Farhan opens and closes his mouth, unsure of what to say. "Sorry, yaar. You took it to heart."

Haroun sighs. "No, it's not about me. Or you. I just—" he shakes his head suddenly. "Never mind."

Farhan reaches up and pats Haroun's back. "I get it, man. You're right. You're the kind of friend my mom would be proud I have. For once."

Haroun's eyes darken. "I'm not—"

"Oh, Mr. Suleiman?" Zoya reapproaches them from the end of the hallway. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Farhan bites back a smile and nudges Haroun, who gets a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Especially when he remembers her previous request: You're going to be the model for this part of the show.

He follows his boss to her office.

~

Once in her office, Zoya turns around, her curls bouncing around her face. "Close the door." Haroun gives her a strange look. "Please," she adds.

He does as she says and stands awkwardly in front of the door. Zoya fights off the laughter rumbling in her chest at his posture and clears her throat. "I've spoken to the board, and they approve of your collaboration on the project. But I wanted you to know that choosing you as co-lead was a conscious decision. I didn't do it because you requested it."

Haroun shoves his hands in his pockets. His eyebrows scrunch together as he smiles bemusedly. "Okay?"

His smile reveals the dimple in his left cheek. Zoya halts in twisting a curl of hair around her finger and eyes him brazenly.

Haroun looks away.

"I just wanted to let you know," Zoya says simply. She takes a few steps forward, and Haroun visibly tenses. She cocks her head to the side, a grin making its way onto her face. "Although I first appointed Farhan as the lead for this project, I think you're the much better choice for it."

"Then why appoint him?" he asks casually, twisting his watch around his wrist and avoiding her eyes. Then, as if he realizes how that might be interpreted, he rushes to add, "I mean, if you weren't satisfied with him leading the project. Not that I want to lead it."

Zoya moves closer and smiles. "Meri marzi. I don't need to tell you that."

"Okay . . . so is there something else you called me for, Ms. Zoya?" His voice is polite but strained as he rubs the back of his neck.

Zoya takes a few more steps until she's directly in front of him. HR, HR, HR, the voice in her head warns. But she's simply too curious.

She ducks her head to try to look into his eyes. He's actively avoiding her gaze, and it baffles her. After all, he had called her noteworthy and eye-catching—even if he seemed to have immediately regretted it. So were those all simply passing observations? Words he'd heard others say about her?

"Why won't you look at me?" she says softly.

Haroun looks up, gaze roaming around the office. He shifts so that he's at a considerable distance from her. When he sighs, Zoya can practically feel the tension emanating from him. "Was there something else you needed from me, Ms. Zoya?"

Zoya grins, intrigued by his behavior. He's still avoiding her eyes. "The point is, I want you and Farhan to work together, but I want you to have the upper hand. Clearly, you're already so practical and skilled in these organizational matters, as depicted by your résumé."

Haroun finally looks at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. As if he wasn't expecting her to have read his résumé, let alone think him capable. "You read my résumé?"

"Jaan, I'm the CEO." She winks, and he looks away once more. "I know everything that goes on in these headquarters. About each and every employee.

"So—and this is off the record—you're leading the project. And"—she snorts lightly—"I'm sure your assistance will be appreciated by Farhan. Someone like you, who is so skilled and"—Zoya pauses, daring to move closer.

Haroun has seemed to reach his breaking point. He steps away hurriedly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Uhh, anything else, Ms. Zoya, before I . . . ?" He gestures towards the door, slowly backing away to create even more distance between them.

Zoya flashes her brilliant smile at him. "No, darling. You may go." He exits quickly, and she's left standing in the middle of her office with a strange smile on her face, eyes contemplative and curious.

"I'll figure you out, Mr. Suleiman, I will. And if not"—she shrugs and throws her hands up in the air, bangles clinking against each other—"I'm not Zoya Zameer."

~

Assalaamu 'Alaikum.

It's been a minute! For those who observe it, I hope you can relate when I say that Ramadan was refreshing and reviving.

'Eid Mubarak! I pray yours was enjoyable and lively.

Translations:

Yaar: Dude/bro

Jaan: Literally translates to "soul"; contextually translates to "my dear"

Chipkali: Lizard

Koi baat nahi: It's nothing/it's alright

Koi chakkar chal raha hai?: Is there something/is there an affair going on?

Meri marzi: My choice

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please don't forget to vote, comment, and share and let me know your thoughts!

JazakAllah Khair (Thank you)

Wa 'Alaikum Salaam