Pasha's Cafe stood inconspicuously, a charming anomaly amidst the urban landscape. The small building, almost too small for the bustling city, had no more than five or six tables within its cosy confines. Despite its size, the thoughtful design of both the exterior and interior exuded a warmth that intended to envelop the customers as they entered. With just a lone floor, a large board proudly proclaimed its identity as 'Pasha's Cafe,' adorned its roof, a subtle invitation to passersby.

Except for the fact that it was located a mere five-minute stroll from the nearby school, the location of the cafe seemed an unusual choice for anybody to set up shop. With no major offices, universities, or bustling institutions surrounding it, the decision almost appeared foolish. A singular door adorned the center, flanked by expansive but not expensive glass windows that offered a glimpse into the manager's desk, where Umeed Pasha was sitting now.

Farjaad adjusted his stance, rising onto the balls of his feet and casually leaning against the sleek bonnet of his car. Arms crossed confidently over his chest, his unwavering gaze had lingered on the same spot for the past thirty minutes. He saw Umeed engrossed in a stack of papers, her fingers occasionally dancing across the laptop keys. Occasionally she'd call out to Taha or Zoya and then moments later, she'd leap from her chair to address a pressing matter before returning to her seat, seamlessly navigating the tasks at hand. It was like a pattern.

Umeed looked extremely focused, her left hand running through her hairs exasperated. Elbows rested on the table, she seemed to be grappling with an issue on the papers before her. While her eyes pierced into the papers, across the road from the cafe, Farjaad Khan Bahadur's keen gaze remained fixed on her, specifically on the watch adorning her wrist. The relentless Karachi sun seemed to be failing to faze him as he stood nonchalantly, seemingly lost in a trance-like observation.

He knew what he had done. He knew what he had to do. But somehow it felt like his feet were threaded into the surface of the road he was standing on. It was twelve noon on a Wednesday. He was the CEO of a firm, and he was aware of the very pressing matters that awaited him in the office. It also included a bunch of meetings that he had postponed, much to Miss Mehak's surprise. Farjaad was acutely aware of why he had made the conscious choice to drive all the way to this spot. It wasn't to bask in the sun and let him along with his car acquire a free tan. Nevertheless, there he stood, just opposite Pasha's Cafe, seemingly unable to take a single step forward, the blistering sun the least of his concerns.

Farjaad felt like he couldn't face her. For a man whose entire life revolved around meeting people and skillfully persuading them to buy into his words, this situation caught him off guard. To be blunt, he was scared. Who knew what her eyes would hold?

Her eyes.

What if, as he approached her, he found nothing but disgust in her eyes? Or worse, what if her gaze held the unmistakable pain of hurt? The thought of her being hurt because of his insensitivity towards something and someone so dear to her, twisted his insides. It wasn't just a passing thought; Farjaad recognized the reality that he had indeed hurt her.

Now, he grappled with uncertainty—uncertain of whether she would ever see him in the same light again, whatever that light was, uncertain if she had reconsidered working with him, uncertain about the emotions her big, doe-like eyes might hold for him, if any at all. As he continued to stare at her figure in the distance, Farjaad reluctantly accepted the truth. The truth that he wouldn't find answers to any of these questions today.

Because Farjaad Khan Bahadur, after six long years for the first time, was scared. He felt like the twenty two year old young little coward again.

He released a long, heavy sigh, his lips pursed in resignation. With a glance downward, he collected his thoughts before finally sliding into the car. As he drove away, he disappeared into the road, fading from view just as a pair of eyes—ones he found himself thinking of a bit too much than he would like to admit—behind the glass windows instinctively shifted her gaze outward.

"Waqai iss baar bhi show Karachi mein honay wala hai?" asked Umeed, her eyes twinkling in excitement.

Mimi nodded, grinning at her best friend's enthusiasm "Jee, aur AK bhi bas do mahinay mein aanay hi wala hai Dubai se waapis."

"Hein? Do mahinay? Matlab tumhari shaadi aur show clash ho jayegi?"

"Nahin na, woh shaadi ke liye bhi aa rahay hai. Hai tou humaray dur ke rishtedaar. Ak aa rahay hai, aur meray cousins bhi aayengay. Mama ne tou Reena-"

"Tou ab tumhein AK se koi mohabbat vohabbat nahin hai? Sach mein utar gaya hai woh wala bukhaar?" Umeed interrupted, her eyes widening with curiosity. She was the sole witness to Mimi's fervent crush on Asadullah Khan, or AK as people called him—the charismatic host of the famous game show Socho Pakistan, sponsored by Farjaad's firm. Umeed also happened to be the comforting presence in whose arms Mimi found solace when AK abruptly left for Dubai after the last show in Karachi, ostensibly to meet his alleged girlfriend.

Mimi sighed. "Ab me kya bolun, uss waqt tou laga tha ki haye pata nahin meri duniya hi khatm ho gayi." She clutched her heart dramatically. "Phir job aur masters kay silsile mein hi sahi, jab Sunny se baat huwi tou samajh aaya AK ke saath sab kuch kitna ek tarfa tha. Me khud hi apnay dil-o-dimaagh mein khwaab buntay jaa rahi thi. Aur waisay bhi, mujhsay bara bhi kitna hai woh!"

Umeed chuckled at her best friend's remarks. These were the truths Umeed had once struggled to convey to Mimi, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in seeing her friend move on from someone who never deserved her. Mimi seemed to be finding happiness with someone kinder and better. Though the protective instinct in Umeed still grappled with fully accepting that Sunny deserved Maryam, she was deeply engaged in their journey, watching out for Mimi every step of the way.

"Aur tou aur, tum hi dekh lo, woh gaya tou kya huwa? Meri shaadi tou ek Umeed-approved larkay say ho rahi hai. Iss se acchi kya baat ho sakti hai bhala!" Mimi laughed heartily, her eyes sparkling with joy as she spoke of her fiancé.

Umeed held her collar in pride and casually shrugged at her expertise before leaning back on the sofa. A contented sigh escaped her as she observed her friend's happiness. "Me tumharay liye bohot khush hun Mimi. Allah karein tum humesha aisi hi khush raho. Muskurati raho."

Mimi halted her laughter, taking a moment to gaze at Umeed.

"Waisay Umeed, I wish I could say the same. Bura mat maan na lekin yeh jo tumhari mangni huwi hai uss... Waleed se iss se me bilkul khush nahin hun." Mimi, aware of the circumstances surrounding Umeed's engagement, expressed her concern. She harbored no liking for Waleed, the future husband of her best friend.

Umeed let out a humourless chuckle. "Menay kya bura man na hai yaar? Me khud apnay liye khush nahin hun."

"I wish yaar tumhari shaadi bhi kisi Mimi approved larkay se ho rahi hoti."

"Chhoro na, ab in sab baaton ka kya fayda! Aur waisay bhi mera bas chalta tou me shaadi hi nahin karti."said Umeed, shifting closer to Mimi and throwing her arms around the latter, engulfing her in a warm hug. "Magar haan, agar shaadi karni hoti aur meray paas choice hoti kay kis se karni hai, tou zarur me apni Mimi approved larkay se hi karti, tumhari choice tou humesha ten on ten hi hoti hai, especially meray liye!"

Mimi gave Umeed a toothy grin, reaching out to hold the hands that were wrapped around her. "Waisay hai ek larka meray dimaag mein, tumharay liye perfect hai woh-"

"Mimi chup kar jaao yaar, kya farq parta hai ab." said Umeed in a resigned tone. "Me jaa rahi hun kitchen kyunkay mujhay chahiye chai ka ek aur cup. Abhi aayi!" she added, sprinting off the sofa and running towards the kitchen in the Khan house as if she owned it.

Concerned would be an understatement for what Maryam felt as she watched Umeed walk away.

Stirring the cup of chai diluted with sugar for over ten minutes, Umeed had long zoned out. On any other day, she wouldn't budge an inch from the comfort of the couch, even for her beloved chai. But today was different.

Lately, Umeed had been conveniently ignoring one of the two agreements made six months ago on that fateful night. While she embraced one wholeheartedly — the life where she ran her cafe — she deceived her heart into believing the other didn't exist. Yet, talking to Maryam felt like someone brutally dragging her back to reality, a reality she momentarily wished to avoid. It was as if she were abruptly reminded of how she had been living a partial lie all these months.

The last thing she wanted was somebody to tell her how miserable it is that in barely half a year she may just be married off, no matter what. It was not even about who she was getting married to at this point. Umeed just did not want to marry. Not now at least. She had so much to do, so much to achieve, so much to see and a lot of experiences to live through. The certainty of her wings being clipped the moment she tied the knot was a notion she clung to fiercely. Umeed was also convinced that no man would ever be capable of handling her, let alone loving her fervently like the fairy tales her mother used to read to her at bedtime when she was six.

Even if they did, she was certain it would wear out soon enough. In her twenty-one years of life, she had been thrown out and sent away to her Khala's at least twenty-five times for the most ordinary mistakes a young girl could make. Her own father failed to acknowledge her, let alone love her. It seemed like she made way too many mistakes. It wouldn't take a minute for a stranger to abandon her at the first sign of a misstep.

It was just beyond her wildest imagination, least of her priorities. Yet despite her apparent nonchalance and indifference, there were moments when she secretly yearned she caused a stir in someone's heart.

No one's heartbeat falters at the sight of her teary eyes.

Not even her father's.

"Mimi beta ek cup coffee bana do, sar bara dukh raha hai."

Umeed's gaze lifted from the cup of chai, drawn towards the hallway entrance of the kitchen by the sound. Before she could fully comprehend it, the owner of the voice emerged, donned in a crisp white shirt, his black coat carefully folded and hanging from his right-hand wrist. His face bore a deep shade of red, and considerably tanned.

Farjaad came to an abrupt halt, his steps faltering at the unexpected sight before him. The one he ran away from this afternoon, was at his house now? It felt like one of those ironic twists people might call poetic justice. He attempted to escape her presence, overwhelmed at the intensity of it all and yet, she managed to find him, showing up at his doorstep. He dismissed that rather peculiar line of thought as he remained frozen, unable to do anything but stare at her.

Clad in a baby blue kurti with delicate multicoloured stripes, she sat on the kitchen counter. He noticed the grip on the cup she held tightening instantly at the sight of him, her knuckles almost turning white.

Umeed, on the other hand, was not having any easier time. In a vulnerable state, she had chosen the kitchen as the site of her brief escape, and now she felt exposed. Though she would sooner cease to exist than admit it, this impromptu plan to catch up with her friend did have a bit to do with the man standing in front of her.

While considering the logistics of meeting up with Mimi, her mind nudged her about the possibility of her brother lurking somewhere around the house in the evening. The very same man she had resolved not to expect anything from just the night before. She couldn't quite grasp the sensibilities of that thought, nor did she want to.

But now that he was in front of her, she did not know what to do.

Farjaad's gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on her, absorbing the delicate details of her appearance. A few strands of hair were artfully pulled back from each side, while others danced gently, framing her features with an effortless grace. His eyes instinctively sought hers and in that moment, a thought lingered—maybe now was the time he would uncover some of the answers he had been seeking earlier.

Yet, amidst the curiosity, he couldn't help but notice how she looked so soft and fresh, even after a day of hard work as he had observed earlier that noon during his visit to her cafe. Suddenly, a self-conscious awareness settled in as he realized the extent of his sun-tanned appearance, a consequence of subjecting himself to the brutal Karachi sun during the same trip. As this realisation settled in, he found himself running his hands through his hair and patting his face in nervousness, an unconscious attempt to look presentable in front of her.

As Farjaad shifted, it brought Umeed out of her trance, prompting her to attempt a swift descent from the kitchen counter. In her haste, the cup slipped from her hands, meeting the floor with a shattering crash that echoed through the room. The sound not only shattered the cup but also the trance Farjaad found himself in. Umeed couldn't help but stifle a small scream as they both stared at the floor, now scattered with ceramic pieces and spilt chai, horror reflected in their eyes.

Umeed slowly looked up, her hand still holding the spoon she had been using to stir the chai, half-expecting him to blast at her. Perhaps a taunt about the first time they met when she did the same. She didn't understand what it was with her and flying cups and saucers. However, he said nothing, just staring at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to initiate a conversation, a taunt, a banter—anything at all.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of her earlier thoughts, the vulnerability she was in, the lingering tension in the room, and now the mess she had created, she couldn't help but jump across the wreckage on the floor and rush outside in hurried, skipping steps. Farjaad was taken aback.

"Umeed..."

It was the only word he could articulate, his eyes feeling somewhat empty as he watched her retreat, paying no heed to him. Farjaad stood there for a few moments, attempting to make sense of the tangled situation. Internally, he engaged in a self-imposed guilt trip, concluding that Umeed's distress stemmed from his words the previous day. Unbeknownst to him, and overlooked by Umeed in her hurried departure, Niggo stood in the hallway to the kitchen. Initially drawn to the kitchen by the sound of the shattering cup, she had halted in her tracks, only to encounter this rather complicated ordeal between her son and Umeed. Standing there in silence, Nighat observed her son, whose vacant gaze stared into nothingness, his eyes following the path Umeed took as she walked away.

It had been a long time since she had seen something that intense in her son's eyes.

~

Farjaad felt a sense of déjà vu as he stood at the entrance door of the cafe, leaning casually against it. He observed Umeed, immersed in her work, giving instructions to her two employees about tasks to be completed after she leaves. The familiarity of the scene triggered memories, as if he had witnessed this moment before. After a few minutes of wandering around the cafe, organising some papers and jotting down notes, Umeed finally walked up to him gracefully grabbed her bag from the manager's desk, her eyes meeting his with a subtle acknowledgment of his presence.

"Chalein?"

Farjaad noticed her looking up at him expectantly. Their eyes met briefly, and he couldn't help but observe the faint dark circles forming beneath her eyes. A pang of concern hit him as he wondered if she was overworking herself. Recalling her previous mention of working full-time and putting in extra hours when one of her two employees took a holiday, he couldn't shake off the feeling of her exhaustion. Despite the evident fatigue, he hesitated to delve into her personal matters, reminding himself it was none of his business. The acknowledgement that he owed her an apology did loom over him, but he was grappling with the uncertainty of how to make amends. A simple "sorry" felt inadequate and it left him in a state of indecision.

"Oye!" Umeed snapped her fingers in front of his face, jolting him out of his reverie. Farjaad blinked once, refocusing on her and awaiting her words.

Umeed furrowed her eyebrows. "Kya huwa? Aaj bhi 404 error?"

"Hmm?" Farjaad hummed, blinking for the second time clueless about what's going on.

She pursed her lips in frustration before extending her taunt. "Robotic software? Crash kar gaya aaj bhi?"

Farjaad blinked for the third time and shook his head, truly at a loss for words. He had anticipated her to be colder, much colder than she was in his office two days back where his words committed the crime or even yesterday at his house. However, it appeared as though he had deluded himself into thinking any of that had occurred. Umeed had seamlessly reverted to the same Umeed who jumped around, creating chaos and throwing brutal taunts at him at every given chance. Surprisingly, he found himself a little bothered by it.

"Tou phir chalo!" she ordered, walking to his car and Farjaad followed her obediently.

The drive was enveloped in silence for the first fifteen minutes after Farjaad listed the three places they were visiting that day. Farjaad felt a growing discomfort in the quietness, while in an unusual contrast, Umeed appeared surprisingly at ease with the lack of conversation. It was unlike her to be so quiet for an extended period.

But the reality was different. At the end of the day, she remained Umeed – a chatterbox who had mastered the art of moving past unpleasant moments, having been bitten too many times to be hurt or hold onto grievances for an extended period.

"Aap ki shakal kuch ajeeb lag rahi hai aaj. Tabiyat tou theek hai?"

Farjaad understood exactly what she was referring to. He had been terribly sunburnt after his rather cowardly expedition in front of her cafe the previous day. The reddened face had not only added an extra fifteen minutes to his daily skincare routine but had also earned him quite a few looks in his office. However, admitting his vulnerability to her, especially when she appeared so nonchalant, seemed out of the question. Revealing his struggles with facing her would be akin to extending a VIP invitation to a Farjaad Khan Bahadur insult party, a scenario he was determined to avoid at all costs.

So Farjaad did what he could. He lied. "Kuch nahin woh bas ek cricket match tha kal tou thora suntan ho gaya."

"Thora?"

Farjaad gave her a side eye, and Umeed instantly fell silent. "Aap bhi tou thaki huwi lag rahi hai, aap kay bhi tou dark circles hai. Aap theek hain?" Farjaad almost blurted out, sounding a bit too enthusiastic about attaining this information that he had intended to. He focused his eyes on the road, to not give away any more of it.

Umeed sighed. "Mujhay kya hona hai, aur yeh tou roz ka hi hai. Aaj Zoya ke kuch commitments the tou woh dopeher ko aayi tou bas tab tak mujhay do-do logon ka kaam karna par gaya tou bas thaki huwi hun."

"Yeh aapkay employees kaam karnay se zyada chhutti nahin letay? Me jab puchta hun unmein se ek chhutti ya half day par liya hota hai." Farjaad realized he was right, she was indeed overworked.

Umeed shifted her gaze from the window to him. "Lekin halaat bure tou unkay bhi hai. Majbooriyaan tou unki bhi hai."

"Unkay halaat aur majbooriyon ka hal ban ke aap majboor nahin ho jayengi? Come on Umeed you gotta be smart to run a business. Replacements dhoondo, aisay logon ko hire karo jo commit kar sakay, jo galtiyaan nahin kartay, let them go."

"Woh almost bacchay hi hain. Agar unki chhoti chhoti galtiyon par me unhe fire kar ne lagi tou phir woh mazeed majboor nahin ho jayengay? Woh cafe ki salary se apni tuitions wagera ki fees de patay hai. Agar menay unhe jaanay diya unki tou parhai ruk jayegi."

Umeed was protective when it came to Taha and Zoya. Despite their numerous mistakes, her affection and love for them ran deep. Having grown up in an environment with no room for errors, she understood the stinging feeling after being dismissed for a single misstep. They had been by her side since day one, and she was determined to stand up for those teens.

Farjaad deftly turned the steering wheel, maneuvering into one of the streets as he further tried to substantiate his argument. "Unhe jaanay nahin dena hai okay, unkay schedule kay hisaab se unhe part time jobs par rakh lo aur full time kay liye do teen chefs aur waiters dhoond lein jo better qualified hai. Trust me kaam aasan ho jayega aapka."

"Aur inki salary aap dengay?" Umeed was getting irritated now. "Pehlay hi itni mushkil se salary de rahi hun, aur logon ko rakh li tou phir profit pura tou jayega hi, ooper se apni jeb se mazeed paisay nikaalnay par jayengay sirf tankhua denay ke liye."

"Sales ka masla isiliye hai kyunkay cafe ki location mein hi gadbad hai. Aas paas ek school kay ilawa hai kya hai Umeed? Regular customers tou school kay bacchay hi hongay aur unkay paas kya hi itnay paisay hongay? Location smartly choose karni chahiye thi aapko, ooper se building bhi kuch khaas nahin kay log attract ho."

Farjaad was in his element, smoothly delivering a lecture on business. Speaking this language came effortlessly to him, providing a momentary respite from the tension that had hung in the air of the car. However, Umeed was far from receptive to his entitled and privileged perspectives on running a business, especially when she had to gear up for another work session after a full day, and that too with someone as conceited as him.

"Aapko kya lagta hai me nahin chahti thi kay mera cafe acchi jagah pe ho? Itnay baray businessman hai aapko andaaza tou hona chahiye yahan par business kay liye ek theek thaak building rent par lena hai tou kharcha kitna hota hai." Umeed turned her head, focusing on the road ahead, crossing her arms and huffing in irritation.

Farjaad retorted; "Investors nahin hai aapkay?"

"Jee hain, lekin meray cafe mein koi Farjaaaad Khaaan Bahaaadur invest nahin kar raha kay paisay luta dengay meray ooper." said Umeed, emphasizing his name with a hand gesture.

Farjaad contemplated, his hands on his chin, fingers gently rubbing over his light stubble. "Lekin negotiate karo tou ho hi jayega na? Haan lekin negotiation skills bhi honi chahiye insaan mein. Jaisa ki me. Kaisay minuton mein investors ko convince kar leta hun."

Umeed looked back at him in disbelief, taking in the arrogance and pride with which he just boasted. He had a smug smile on his face and quite contrary to how they had started out this trip, he seemed like he was enjoying this way too much. She was being courteous but she couldn't let him win.

"Jee jee jee, aap mujhay ek baat batayein aapnay kitnay businesses shuru se shuru kiye hain?" Umeed folded her hands together, shifting her entire body towards him with a smile plastered on her face, mocking him subtly with her exaggerated agreement.

Farjaad raised his eyebrows, looking at her perplexed. "Kya matlab hai aapka?"

"Jawaab tou dein," she said, blinking rapidly, fluttering her eyelashes, maintaining her smile and giving him the most innocent, sweet look ever, which somehow set off all kinds of alarms in Farjaad's head.

"Menay take over kiya hai Baba ke business ko."

Umeed clicked her tongue in satisfaction at his answer. "Jee theek." said Umeed, jumping a little in her seat. "Tou phir zaahir si baat hai aapkay paas ek tarah se chance tha unki aur apni firm ki legacy ka fayda uthanay ka, specially jab baat investors ki ho."

"Haan lekin-"

"Abhi ki baat bhi chhor dein, abhi tou me samajhti aap baray tees maar khan hai lekin kya aap deny kar saktay hain kay shuru shuru mein jab aapko kuch pata bhi nahin tha tab iss baat ki wajah se aap ka kaam aasan nahin huwa?"

Farjaad was rendered speechless. He was reveling in this business discourse and she had completely shut him up with her explanations of very basic logic. He suddenly recognized how he had become overly fixated on comparing her business to his, neglecting the privileges he had. Unlike Umeed, he never had to shoulder the entire burden of starting a business from scratch; he merely inherited it and, truth be told, struggled initially in managing it.

"Khair I am sure agar aap nepotism product na hotay tou shayad kabhi kahin kay CEO chhoro manager bhi na bantay. Apnay abba ki zaati company ke CEO ban na koi bari baat nahin hai, aaye baray mujhay gyaan denay." Umeed knew she was spitting fire, but she had already had a bad day and the splitting headache was pounding her head, she did not need his supercilious comments on top of it.

Farjaad furrowed his eyebrows; "Aap personal attack kar rahi hain? Me tou bas aapki madad karna chahta tha."

"Nahin chahiye aapki madad, aapki madad bhi meray aglay ek saal kay budget se zyada expensive hai. Ab chup chaap gaari roko." ordered Umeed, catching Farjaad off guard. He looked at her with a questioning glance, and she explained herself in the most confident tone. "Chai peeni hai mujhay."

Farjaad threw his head back on the driving seat, still slowing down the car to a halt. "Miss Umeed hum kaam kay liye niklay hain, waqt nahin hai humaray paas in fazool chizon kay liye."

"I am sorry aapki zindagi itni sad hai kay aapko chai fazool lagti hai. Lekin abhi meray liye chai peena bohot important hai." stated Umeed, in a tone way too serious for a topic like this. Her gaze momentarily shifted between him and the window behind back and forth before it went back there again, looking at something on the roadside.

"Gol gappay."

"Kya?" asked Farjaad.

Umeed pointed behind him, urging Farjaad to look at his side of the window. There was a little golgappa stall on the roadside, right next to a small street-side chai trolley. Farjaad looked back at Umeed, staring at her incredulously.

"Ab time management par lecture na dena, yahan se first venue walking distance par hai aur hum already aapki schedule se pandrah minute aagay chal rahay hai. Aur paanch-das minute late bhi ho jayengay tou duniya nahin hil jaati, zindagi mein kabhi kabhi chalta hai. Chalein aap bhi aa jayein, maza aayega." said Umeed, with so much conviction that Farjaad was momentarily swayed. She leapt out of the car after slapping his arms to urge him out too.

For the second time that day, he found himself with no other option but to follow her lead.

"Bhaiya do plate laga dein!"

Farjaad furrowed his brow, perplexed by her enthusiastic order as he followed her to the stall. "Do plates kyun chahiye?"

"Ek aap kay liye hai." informed Umeed as if it's the norm.

Farjaad widened his eyes and pointed his fingers at her. "Dekho Umeed, me yeh sab nahin khanay wala. Itni mirch masala aur phir pata bhi nahin kuch saaf hai kay nahin. Me tou kehta hun tum bhi nahin khao yeh sab."

"Kya masla hai aapko? Itnay saaray log khatay tou hai, kuch nahin hota. Try kar lein meri treat hai." Umeed tried reaffirming.

Farjaad chided; "Umeed tap water use kartay hai yaar!"

That caught the attention of the vendor who was serving others waiting for their fight to be over. He picked up a bottle of mineral water from the carton he had set aside and showed it up to Farjaad. "Sahab humaray paas mineral water ka bhi option hai bas paisay extra lagtay hai." said the vendor, pointing at the prices written on the display board.

"Nahin thank you, aap inhe de dijiye." Farjaad refused.

Umeed was quick to intervene; "Bhaiya ek minute." She turned to Farjaad, keeping her hands on the hip. "Aapka kya masla hai? Menay kaha na meri treat hai, har waqt aisay Changez Khan ban kay ghumnay ki zarurat nahin hai. Haya, Sameer, Me, hum sab khatay trust me hum Masha'Allah theek thaak hi hai."

Farjaad just stood their narrowing his eyes at her unimpressed.

"Haan yeh alag baat hai agar aapsay spice handle nahin hota." Umeed crossed her arms across her chest.

Farjaad walked right into the bait. "Kya matlab hai aapka?"

"Chalein ab maan bhi lein, kay aap ek naazukh si kali hai!" Umeed raised her brows, as if she was challenging him. "Woh nazukh kali jis se gol gappay ki spice tak handle nahin hoti."

"Bhaisahab, aab laga dein." said Farjaad, shocking Umeed. She had not expected him to take the bait so quickly. However she joined in with a smirk.

The shopkeeper inquired; "Bottle wala pani?"

"Nahin Bhaiyya... hum normal pani hi lengay." clarified Umeed, Farjaad glared at her only for her to glare back at him as she gestured to him to keep quiet and eat whatever he got.

The last time Farjaad had golgappa was years back when his father had arranged for a vendor to visit the house on a Sunday. He was freshly into his twenties back then and remembered having a good time. Niggo and Mimi still enjoyed them when they went out, but from bigger restaurants or fancier places. Somehow, Farjaad had lost his appetite for these things after his dad passed away. To him, it felt like he cherished the company he had, the smiles that were exchanged, and the laughter shared with his whole family, especially with his baba on a Sunday when he was free from work and was all theirs, more than how the snack itself tasted. After his father, he did not deliberately refrain from having those snacks, but he just didn't see the point.

Now, as he stood there holding the plate, he observed the girl in front of him, her big doe eyes filled with anticipation, as if her life depended on how he found the snack. It seemed like the feelings he was reminiscing were not fully just memories anymore.

Her eyes.

He could get lost in them.

Farjaad cleared his throat, cutting the trail of his thoughts and as he ate the gol gappa, a sudden burst of flavors exploded in his mouth, each taste reminiscent of those long-forgotten Sunday afternoons. It was as if heaven itself had manifested in that tiny, tangy, and spicy ball of joy. The rush of memories hit him like a tidal wave, transporting him back to the feeling of just being a carefree child and nothing else, surrounded by love all around. The feeling of the times when it wasn't about having a meal for the sake of it; but was about spending time with someone because you wanted to. The feeling that a Sunday afternoon brought. As he glanced at the girl standing in front of him, relishing the gol gappa while passing him her signature toothy, genuine smile radiating joy looking joyous, he felt his heart twitch.

It suddenly truly felt like a Sunday afternoon.

Umeed looked up at him, and suddenly she couldn't care less about the gol gappa she craved so badly after starving the whole day. Witnessing Farjaad's face light up, her own lips effortlessly curved into a radiant smile. She was aware of the twinkle in her eyes, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't resist the urge. Her gaze remained fixed on him as she watched his face shift, into an expression she couldn't quite decipher. Yet, she neither minded nor could divert her eyes from him.

"Accha laga na aapko? Menay kaha tha!" exclaimed Umeed, her joy evident in a little jump.

Her sudden chatter brought Farjaad out of the reverie, jolting him back to their banter just moments ago. The warmth he had felt from reliving old memories with the gol gappa was deliberately ignored, replaced by the reminder of her challenge and the 'nazukh kali' she had playfully thrown his way. In a swift move, he conveniently pushed the magic of what was felt into the recesses of his mind, donning a scowl on his face as if to assert his usual demeanor.

"Jee nahin, mujhay bas aapko prove karna tha kay me spice handle kar sakta hun.Ho gaya mera. Tum bhi khatm karo jaldi aur chalo."

Umeed took a chance. "Accha lag raha hai tou kha lein na, kya jayega aap ka? Kabhi kabhi insaan ko hasi aur khushi apna lena chahiye. Aur fir agar aapki tabiyat kharab ho gayi tou trust me aapka treatment bhi me hi sponsor kar dungi don't worry." She reassured, with a comforting palm up gesture.

Farjaad's gaze immediately followed her hands, down to her wrists—the watch. The guilt, momentarily forgotten, surged back with overwhelming force. He found himself nodding at her, his eyes perhaps suddenly containing all the tenderness in the world.

The gol gappa expedition continued for another fifteen minutes, turning into an unexpected adventure. Farjaad, despite his initial confidence, had found himself facing a spice attack. In his desperate attempt to cool down the fire raging in his mouth, he had ended up chugging down a whole bottle of water while Umeed stood there laughing out loud, finding the sight of him struggling utterly hilarious. However, as the heat of the spices fueled his irritation, he blushed redder than his sunburn, with her relentless teasing only intensifying his simmering annoyance. Eventually, they composed themselves, and proceeded to the first venue.

The first venue was spacious and elegant with polished marble floors and high ceilings while the second venue was outdoor, and had adopted a more modern architecture and chic ambiance. Farjaad and Umeed also met with the venue representatives, discussing crucial details like budget and services. They did not forget to take careful notes and snap pictures, planning to share the gathered information with Mimi and Niggo for collective decision-making. The aim was to ensure everyone's input was considered, and they entertained the idea of bringing Mimi and Niggo along to visit the shortlisted venues once they were done visiting all the venues. By the time they moved on to the third venue, the sun had already set, casting a soft glow on the city.

Farjaad shifted on his chair uncomfortably, turning around to take another look at the door. Him, along with Umeed had just finished their inspection of the third venue. It had an enticing combination of an outdoor setting and an extravagant hall. However, what caught their attention the most was the option for a grand staircase entry —a feature rarely available but a specific dream Mimi had nurtured growing up. As Farjaad sat in the manager's office, he found himself glancing at the empty chair beside him.

The manager had mentioned he would return shortly, as he was currently engaged with another set of customers. Umeed, however, had swiftly slipped away, informing Farjaad that she would be back in five minutes. Farjaad, a stickler for completing tasks in an organized manner, disapproved of such impromptu breaks. However, that seemed to be Umeed's life mantra - to do what he disapproved of. As the minutes ticked by, Farjaad finally heard faint footsteps, signalling Umeed's return. She entered the room, holding a cup of chai in her hand.

"Seriously?" Farjaad turned back, throwing his head on the back of the chair feeling so done.

Umeed took the spot next to him, keeping the chai on the table to place her bag on her lap. "Kya hai?"

"Tum chai lenay gayi thi? Unbelievable!" exclaimed Farjaad, facepalming.

Umeed held her cup of chai so dearly. "Ismein unbelievable kya hai?"

Farjaad raised his eyebrows. This was probably the fourth or fifth cup of chai she had been having ever since they started from her cafe early in the evening. The chai saga began right after their gol gappa expedition, followed by two cups at the first venue – one intended for him but promptly seized by Umeed. Not being particularly fond of chai, as he was more of a coffee person, Farjaad didn't mind the theft. The third cup materialised on the way to the second venue when she assertively halted the car, coercing him with the threat of jumping out – a gesture he knew she wouldn't follow through with, yet he found himself complying, trailing obediently behind her. It wouldn't be entirely untrue to admit that he felt a slight sense of intimidation during Umeed's desperate chai quests. He remembered she had another cup on their way to the third venue.

Fifth. This was the fifth cup of chai in the past three hours.

"Ab aisay bhi na dekhein itna bhi bara koi jurm nahin kiya hai." Umeed was defensive. "Aur aap nahin samajhtay, peeni parti hai mujhay warna musibat ho jayegi."

Farjaad shook his head in resignation and decided to just wait for the manager. He understood her obsession with chai, he had heard Mimi talk about it. Supposedly, Umeed used to consume five or six cups a day during their college years, but her behavior this afternoon bordered on the maniacal as she fervently pursued chai. Transitioning from five or six cups daily to a sudden surge of ten, and then down to just five within a span of three hours? It seemed as though chai was some life-saving elixir. Farjaad couldn't help but ponder on what might be going on, though he promptly scolded himself for verging into yet another episode of prying into her personal life.

The manager finally arrived after ten minutes, bringing along the files containing the budget and additional details about booking the venue. He handed over the documents to the duo for their perusal and inquired if they would like anything to drink. Farjaad politely declined, while Umeed unsurprisingly requested a cup of chai, earning an extremely confused and incredulous glare from Farjaad.

"I guess this is fine?" whispered Farjaad, as he along with Umeed went through the file.

Umeed turned to face him, diverting her attention from the file to meet Farjaad's gaze. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the sudden proximity, sensing his breath faintly grazing the side of her face as he spoke. Farjaad, momentarily caught off guard, blinked, finally registering the closeness as he observed her face up close. However, before he could formulate a reaction, she swiftly took the file from his hands, resting her elbows on the table.

"Yeh prices kuch zyada hi high nahin hai?"

The manager left out a chuckle at her question. "Madam jee, ab me iss baaray mein kya keh sakta hun? Shaadi kay venues waisay bhi mehengay hotay and ours... is a luxury one. Zaahir si baat hai prices bhi accordingly higher hongay."

"I understand that. Lekin humnay bhi kaafi research ki hai iss baaray mein aur iss se pehlay same standing walay do venues visit kar kay aaye hain. This is considerably higher." Umeed leaned forward, confidently. "Ooper se yeh jo price breakdown hai iska koi sense nahin ban raha."

"Arrey kyun sense nahin ban raha Madam, sab kuch tou likha wahan par. Farjaad sahab, please madam ko samjhayein." said the manager, almost sounding mocking as a condescending smile made way to his face as he directed the conversation to Farjaad who wasn't even involved till this point.

Farjaad, who was sitting with his arms crossed being observant, suddenly inched closer to Umeed. "Umeed kya masla hai?" He asked in a soft tone.

Umeed ignored Farjaad's inquiry. "Jee manager sahab, aap say baat kaun kar raha tha? Me." Umeed pointed at herself. "Madam baat kar rahi thi na aapsay, tou aap bhi madam se baat karein. Farjaad Sahab ko agar karni hoti tou woh kar letay."

Both Farjaad and the manager were taken aback.

"Aur rahi baat prices ki, humnay maazi mein yahan huwe kuch shaadiyon kay budget aur costs wagera nikaalay the. Aap inflation ko bhi consider kar lein phir bhi aaj ki date par expense itna nahin aayega jitna yahan likha gaya hai. Tab bhi yeh luxury venue tha, shaadi karnay walay log bhi ameer hi the shayad. Nahin?" Umeed raised her eyebrows with a sly smile.

Both men were taken aback. The manager, who had underestimated Umeed solely because of her gender, was completely blindsided by her assertiveness. Farjaad, witnessing this side of Umeed for the first time, the one that echoed the authority of a cafe owner, couldn't help but savour the situation. He had initially intended to reprimand the manager for his attitude the moment the comment was made, but he found himself taking a back seat as Umeed assumed control.

Umeed questioned further; "Aur haan, humnay jab aapko call kiya tha tab clearly yeh mention kiya tha kay humein in house decoration aur catering nahin chahiye because kuch venues yeh allow nahin kartay lekin aap log maan gaye the. Tou iss cost breakdown mein woh sab kyun hai? Aur hum paisay kyun dein in sab kay?"

The manager looked at Farjaad, anticipating support in his favour. However, Farjaad did nothing more than raise his eyebrows, shooting a sarcastic look at the manager. He subtly nodded, signalling that it was up to him to respond to Umeed.

"Hahahah madam, lagta hai humaray accountant ne koi galti kar di. Me baat karta hun uss say aur kal tak revised breakdown aapko bhej dunga. Does that work?" The manager laughed nervously, clearly intimidated by Umeed.

Umeed nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm, offering him a saccharine yet insincere smile. "Jee bohot shukriya aapka."

The meeting went on for another ten or twenty minutes, delving into other aspects and complexities regarding the venue until the day finally ended for Farjaad and Umeed. Farjaad made his way to the car after making Umeed wait for a whole of ten minutes.

"Kahan chalay gaye the aap mujhay aapsay ek baat-" Umeed halted mid-sentence as her gaze descended to his hand, noticing a small paper cup. He opened the driver's door, settled into his seat, and handed her the cup. It was a warm, aromatic cup of chai that she had just accepted. She glanced at him, surprised, only to find him already looking at her with a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yahin baat karni thi na?"

Farjaad's smirk widened as he observed Umeed's genuine bewilderment. It wasn't a common occurrence for him to witness Umeed Pasha in such a state, especially in response to Farjaad Khan Bahadur who often finds himself on the receiving end. His confidence grew, and intensifying his gaze, causing Umeed to avert her eyes, focusing ahead on the road. A subtle blush painted her cheeks as Farjaad ignited the car's engine, beginning to drive.

"Mujhay cafe drop kar dena." Ten minutes into the drive Umeed managed to speak.

"Iss waqt? Kyun? Ghar chhor deta hun."

"Nahin bas kuch samaan aaye huwe hai naye, tou thora kaam hai. Aap fiqr na karein bas cafe drop kar dein, phir baad mein khud chali jaungi me." Umeed tried to convince him, thinking his disagreement had to do with him thinking he will have to wait for her to get done and then drop her home too.

Farjaad rolled his eyes. "Umeed drop karnay ka masla nahin hai. Itna late ho gaya hai. Aur tum aaj pata nahin kuch do logon ka kaam nahin kar rahi thi? Aur phir meray saath yeh bhaag daud. Kitna exert karogi khud ko, ghar jaao dinner karo get some rest."

Umeed turned her gaze toward him, a bit surprised by his concern. His words conveyed a sense that if he asked her to do something, she would comply. It seemed as though he genuinely wanted what was in her best interest. As she observed the cup in his hands, it suddenly felt like the day when he had refused to wake her up. The day she felt there was more to the Changez Khan.

Except there wasn't.

"Nahin, bas yeh ek chhota sa kaam urgent hai, karna hi hai. Aap bas cafe drop kar dein." Umeed composed herself.

Farjaad was stern. "Theek hai, lekin phir ghar bhi me hi drop karunga."

"Thank you." Umeed nodded as she thanked him genuinely.

Farjaad had the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're welcome," he said in an enthusiastic tone.

"Waisay aapko mujhay thank you bolna chahiye." declared Umeed and Farjaad turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows.

"Kis baat kay liye?"

"Woh manager aap ko pura lutnay ka plan banakay aaya tha. Shukar karo menay bacha liya." said Umeed, taking another gulp of her tea.

Farjaad chuckled, but also tried to defend himself. "Come on Umeed, me bhi ek businessman hun."

"Jee bilkul lekin aap bargain nahin kartay." Umeed said calmly. "Aap businessman hai lekin aap ek bohot baray businessman hai. Aap kay liye yeh saaray chhotay motay kaam log manage kartay hongay aur phir yeh bhi zaahir si baat hai paisay aapkay liye ek concern nahin hai, isiliye aap ready the, jo woh bol rahay the woh denay kay liye."

Umeed was right. Farjaad did realize how he did not go through the file properly. He just read the final amount to be paid if they had to secure the venue. Farjaad is somebody who meticulously reads the files when it comes to the dealings in his company, but when he had to spend for his loved ones, he barely cared how much he was spending, having grown up in abundance of money. It was the case here too.

Farjaad took a long sigh, one of his hands on his chin. "Jee mohtarma, bilkul theek baat kahi hai aapnay. Thank you so much."

Umeed smiled, her gaze still on the road.

"Umeed?"

"Hmm?"

"Aap ek bohot smart aur intelligent larki hai. Potential hai aap mein ek bohot hi qaabil business woman ban nay ki."

Umeed couldn't believe her ears. These were the words she had longed to hear for as long as she could remember. The desire to hear such affirmations, particularly from her family, had always lingered in her dreams, with a special yearning to hear them from Pasha Sahab. Yet, the reality had been a constant barrage of taunts and criticisms regarding her abilities from him and most of her family, excluding Haya and Aghu Jaan. As she looked at Farjaad, the disbelief lingered, questioning the truthfulness of what she had just heard.

"Bas logon ko chai mein nehlana kam kar dein, phir dekhein kaisay daurega aapka cafe." The man locked eyes with her, a playful glint in his gaze as he raised his eyebrows. Of course, his compliment wrapped in a banterish taunt.

Umeed remained silent, choosing to avert her gaze as her cheeks flushed pink. She bit her lip to suppress the smile threatening to break free. The genuineness in his voice wasn't lost on her – he truly meant what he said.

Farjaad checked his watch when he pulled up in front of Pasha's cafe, noting that it was close to nine. They were running late, almost an hour behind schedule. However, when he looked to his side, he found Umeed Pasha fast asleep with her head resting on the window pane. Surprisingly, he realized he didn't mind the delay at all. Reflecting on the day they had spent together, a smile involuntarily crossed his face.

Perhaps it was okay to not stick by schedules once in a while.

"Pohonch gaye hai hum?" His thoughts were put to an end as he witnessed Umeed rub her eyes, waking from her nap. Farjaad nodded at her, as she sat straight and looked at her surroundings.

Umeed grabbed the bag that rested on her lap as she inquired; "Aap andar aa rahay ya phir yahin wait karengay? Mujhay bas das pandrah minute lagengay lekin aap jaa bhi saktay hai agar aap-"

"Me aa raha hun andar." Farjaad informed, not wanting to receive any more of her suggestions.

The pair stepped out of the car and approached the cafe, only to find it illuminated—a sight that caught Umeed off guard. She had instructed Taha and Zoya to close early that day, thus having no reason for it to be open so late. Umeed confidently entered the cafe, with Farjaad trailing behind her, until both of them came to an abrupt halt upon seeing a man seated inside, occupying the manager's seat.

Waleed.

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Sorry for the delay, but here is a longer chapter.

This is unedited and I'm sure there is a lot of mess ups, please forgive. :)