"aankh uthi mohabbat ne angrayi li"

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NUISANCE was the word that flashed in Haider's mind as his onyx eyes witnessed the awfully irritating and noisy display of sparks shooting off in the sky, disturbing the tranquility of the night and contributing to air pollution.

Dressed in a sage green retro shirt with long sleeves and black jeans, he stood on the extended terrace of his room with his fingers clasped around a hot cup of coffee and his left hand clutching the metallic railing.

A series of gunshots followed by hoots and laughter rumbled around, making a peeved breath furl out of his lips and mingle with the steam emitting from the cup.

Haider never understood why every damn celebration had to be loud and theatrical. Why couldn't people celebrate in a civilised way? Was it necessary to behave like wild dirtbags?

Which reminded him of a particular one he had caged in the rusty abode at the far end of the city.

The men he had hired to take care of that bastard had been working for him for a long time now. Whenever someone tried to mess with him, they messed up that person's life.

Haider had worked very hard to build his business empire and it was with his sheer prowess and capability that he had achieved significant achievement in the field of technology in a short amount of time―working with renowned global firms and being the owner of four software houses in different cities. He reigned his country's tech landscape but to keep his rule intact, he occasionally had to get his hands dirty.

If anyone threatened to take away the top spot only he deserved, he simply shut the threat―sometimes fair but mostly by foul means.

He didn't find anything wrong with that. The weak were always going to get crushed by the strong. That's how the world worked. And it's not like he was a killer. He just simply had enough money to hire some goons to terrorise people who dared to get in his way.

Just like him; that damned guy who had gotten in his way on his wedding day. He didn't intend to kill him, but he was going to give him an excruciating pain he was never going to forget.

Heaving a sigh, he fished out his phone from his pocket and swiped on the screen to call those goons-cum-fools he had been trying to reach since noon.

Not a single one of them had responded to his calls and now his agitation was inflaming and patience running thinner with each second.

Grinding his teeth, he tapped on the screen and attached the phone to his ear―each unanswered beeping sound grating his nerves.

After an unforgiving amount of ringing, the call was finally picked up.

"Where the bloody hell are you idiots? I've been trying to reach you the whole day!" he roared, clutching the cup in his hand so tightly his knuckles started turning pale.

When the person on the other side apprised him of why he was unable to answer his calls, rage simmered inside of him and the coffee cup in his hand became the victim of his ire as he hurled it to the floor―the crashing sound ricocheting as the warm brown liquid stained the floor along with the shards of cup.

"What!? He ran away?! And you let him?" Haider's ferocious yell filled the chilly air.

"He somehow managed to untie his hands and went absolutely berserk on us, Sir. Two of us ended up with broken bones."

Haider's eyes narrowed to slits as he spat in a blistering tone, "He did a fine job. Saved me from the hassle of doing that myself. Tum nikammo se ek aadmi nahi snbhala gaya?"

"He was no ordinary man. He almost seemed like a trained fighter. Even after we beat him for a good time, he still had the stamina to throw a bunch of deadly punches," the guy on call winced as if he was still in pain.

Sealing his eyes and taking a terse intake of breath, Haider tried his best to calm the brewing storm of wrath within him. If this guy was in front of him, he'd have surely thrown him off the terrace.

"Would you stop barking his praises?" he yelled out. "Go and find him! If you don't bring him to me in 24 hours then tm sabki baaki haddiyan main khud torun ga, samjhay?!

He disconnected the call and disheveled his hair by running a frustrating hand through the dark locks before veering around and storming inside.

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Because I love you.

It was a simple and straightforward answer; a passionate and unconditional reason.

Mohabbat hai mjhe tumse, echoed in all corners of Zain's heart, seared in the dark realms of his eyes, and mingled with the rhythm of his dharkan but the confession couldn't cross the barrier of his lips.

It was held back by a swarm of questions stuck in his throat along with the edgy breath.

Was it the right time to confess? To tell her that she had robbed his heart the moment he had laid his eyes on her? Would she even believe him? Did she feel the same? Even if she did, then what? Would she come with him?

The more he looked into her wide eyes and dread-coloured visage, the harder it became to verbalise his feelings. And it was strange because he always spoke what was in his heart without any hesitation but at this moment, his mind forced him to consider the circumstances and possibilities.

A war raged on between the axons of his brain and the veins of his heart.

He wanted to ignore the fuss his brain was making and listen to his heart but before he could decide on the victor, his phone buzzed in his jeans pocket, making him release a dejected sigh and sever the eye contact between them.

"Hold on," he muttered, plucking out the phone from his pocket.

Iman rolled her lips inside her mouth and nodded slowly, her heart still pounding and tension coiling in her gut.

Zain held the phone against his ear as the voice from the other side echoed.

"You didn't get caught or something, did you?" Saif enquired casually.

"No," was all he said as his eyes assessed Iman's disposition. She had her eyes pinned to the floor, fingers laced together and shoulders tensed.

"Toh bhai wahan rehne ka irada hai kya? Jaldi niklo." Saif hissed in his ear.

"Hm," was Zain's response and he was sure Saif must've been astounded by the lack of curse and the guttural sound of his voice.

He disconnected the call and putting the phone back into his pocket, he regarded the woman before him.

"Who... was that?" Her eyes instantly flew up and fell on his face as she asked in a hesitant voice.

"The guy who helped my get here," Zain answered with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

She went quiet for a few seconds but then her meek voice again reached his ears.

"You didn't finish what you were about to say," Iman reminded him because she wanted to know just why would he go so far for someone he had met just days ago; someone who was the cause of the wounds marring his skin.

Zain gazed at her intently, not being able to speak right away. The voices in his head were getting louder, drowning the tune of his heart. Not yet. Not now. His brain warned repeatedly.

And it eventually won the war as he lowered his head with a sigh and decided to comply.

Lifting his head and his gaze, he intoned in a placid tone, "Because... I have no regard for my personal safety."

His beauty frowned. "Be serious, Zain."

"I am," Zain stressed and then added with a forced smirk, "That's also what my mother always says."

She blinked, pursing her lips and staring at him warily for a few seconds but then she exhaled and shook her head. "She's not wrong though."

Zain saw her stiffen frame relaxing and the tension slowly evanesced, suggesting she didn't intend to implore further.

Quelling his feelings and trying to focus on something more important, he asked, "Okay now, I want you to tell me something. Do you want to live with your family? Are you safe here?"

"Safe?" A wistful smile floated on her lips. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be. It's my home. But..." Iman swallowed, "I'm not wanted here anymore."

Despondency leaked from her voice and swaddled her countenance. Veering her head to the right and letting her forlorn gaze fall over the night sky visible from the transparent glass of the window, she remained silent for a moment before her lips moved again.

"You know what hurts the most, Zain?"

"What?" he asked.

With her grey irises fixed to the dark canvas outside, she vocalised in a hollow voice, "When you see hatred in the eyes of the person you always craved to see love in."

And then her head turned, gaze returned to him but all he saw was cold emptiness. There was an everlasting winter in her eyes and the sight pierced his heart with thorns.

"I saw hatred in the eyes of my father yesterday," she whispered weakly. "Maybe I... deserve it. Ruswa kiya hai mainay unhen but still, I never wanted him to hate me. I just wanted him to care about me and my wishes... I wanted him to talk to me, listen to me."

The rim of her eyes started getting wet. "Now I am just a deceiving, characterless woman for him who he wish had died before sullying his reputation."

Outside the window, in the cold sky, a grimy and heavy cloud wafted across the moon, dimming the pearlescent glow for a lingering moment―and in that dark fraction of a second, Zain pulled in an aching breath.

His jaw clenched as painfully as his heart did when the tendrils of bitter realization, that it was indeed not the right time to confess his feelings, spread into his chest.

Zain couldn't burden her with his confession when she was in the doldrums―a broken woman stuck in a quagmire of anguish, guilt, fear and accusations.

He had to pull her out of there.

And, solving people's problems was a part of his job after all. If he had to set aside his feelings for the sake of it, then be it.

"Your father," his baritone dispelled the brooding silence, "I'll have a word with him."

The numbness that had covered Iman vanished by the sound of his statement and a tingle of panic blazed through her blood as she cried out, "Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what would happen if you show up in front of him? Just leave-"

Her plea withered in her throat when he pressed his finger upon her lips.

"Shush."

Her cheeks inflamed and pulse raced as she felt the pad of his index finger brushing her lips.

Leaning forward and levelling to her with his dark-hued irises fixed on her heated face, he mumbled huskily, "You worry alot, you need to take it easy. Crybaby."

It didn't even take a second for Iman to recognize the reference―the song he had added in his statement. And her heart automatically crooned the next line that somehow resonated with her;

I got this anxious feeling, but it goes away for a minute when I'm with you breathing.

She didn't know their souls fluttered with the same music in that moment.

He peeled his finger off her lips and straightened himself but the warmth lingered and with every passing heartbeat, it settled. She felt like it was going to burn for a long, long time.

Trying to push aside and resist the sensation, she found her voice, weary and small, "Why are you making it so difficult, Zain?"

"Because we started this," he replied instantly, stressing on the plural. "We ran away together, then how can I let you face everything alone?"

Her shoulders slumped. "Tum samajh kyun nahi rahay ho."

"I understand," Zain assured her. And himself too, that he did comprehend the circumstances, and what he had to do to get them under control. "Ab samjhane ka waqt hai."

She huffed in frustration―the movement making her shawl slip from her shoulders and cascade down, pooling at her feet.

Before she could retrieve it, Zain beat her to it. He squatted down and quickly swept it off the floor. Clutching it in his right hand, he raised his head and stared her up through his heavy-lashed eyes.

And then slowly, his frame rose and hovered over her.

He smoothened out the shawl and holding it by the edges, his hands whirled across her frame as he wrapped it around her, eclipsing her torso with the fabric.

Not letting go of the edges he had secured in his hands and his midnight eyes burning into the grey ocean of hers, they stared at each other in numinous silence.

"Iman," he whispered and the tenderness in his voice coated the entire room. The distinct way he always took her name never ceased to ignite something deep in her soul. Gently, stretching the 'a' and ending it with such purity, like it was an orison.

Enrobed in the warmth of the cloth he was holding―and his inflammatory gaze―she stood there, tongue-tied while his lips moved again.

"I told you I'll fix everything," Zain reminded her. "It wasn't a promise, it was a commitment. And, I always carry out my commitments."

She blinked, the moisture gathered on her lashes sprinkling on her face.

"You won't marry Haider, or anyone you don't want to, and I'll make your father understand," he affirmed curtly.

"What are you going to do?" Iman muttered gingerly.

His stern visage softened and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, "Nothing law-breaking, don't worry."

He released the woollen fabric of her shawl and took a step back.

"I'm scared."

Her fragile murmur.

"Don't be. Just leave everything to me."

His solid assurance.

Iman shook her head with a ghost of a frown weaving her traits. "You're so stubborn."

A chuckle broke out of his mouth. "We have an agreement there."

Zain wanted to keep talking to her. Keep looking at her. Keep her with him forever. But he could do neither of those things right now.

He had to leave.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he took a sharp intake of breath before opening them and announcing, "I should go now."

Iman sunk her teeth into her lower lip as her heart plunged when she finally heard what she had been telling him all along.

"You should," her gaze lowered and so did her voice but a thought crossed her mind and her gaze flapped up in inquisitiveness, "Wait, how did you even get in?"

Zain opened his mouth to respond but her huff halted him.

"No, forget it, how are you going to get out? There's a security guard in and outside the house."

"I'll figure something out." Zain shrugged.

Iman rolled her eyes. She actually rolled her eyes and Zain found the expression so adorable.

"There's another door at the left side of the garden, near the red brick wall. Use that," she instructed with a purse of her lips.

"Thanks." Zain smiled.

"Now go," she ushered, not letting her inward hesitation colour her tone.

Zain nodded, looking at her in a melancholic trance, inwardly wishing for the time to cease, for the world to stop. But it didn't. The clock kept ticking, the night didn't freeze and the earth kept spinning around its axis.

So he also moved his lips and said the final words, "See you."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room without looking back―his eyes afire with a conviction to set things right―and his chest heavy with a deep feeling of longing he had buried in the catacombs of his heart.

Quietly drifting down the stairs, he landed in the hall and tread his way to the door, scrutinizing the surrounding to make sure the coast was clear.

He had almost reached the entrance of the building but before he could cross the threshold, a female figure suddenly appeared on the entrance, making his heart leap into his throat and his body recoiling back to avoid the collision.

Zain recognised the face of the woman standing before him with a pained inward groan.

Iman's cousin. Her damn cousin.

Unlike the last time he had seen her―decked in a heavy, glittering outfit and jewelry―she looked much better in a casual attire but the mortification plastered on her face was the same as the last time. Her jaw was touching the floor in pure horror and her big black eyes were about to spill out.

"Uh... hi cousin. We meet again," Zain said with an awkward half-smile.

The expression on her face turned more horrifying and Zain knew she was about to open her awfully loud mouth to scream.

In a lightning-fast moment, he pulled out the gun he had borrowed from Saif and had it hidden under his and placed it on her forehead, shaking his head in warning with a glower.

And it worked because the scream died down in Sameera's throat and terror blasted through her whole body as she froze on the spot with wide eyes and clamouring heart.

This was the second time―in the same week―she was being held at gunpoint by the same guy. Sameera wondered what she had done so unforgivingly wrong in her life to deserve this.

Her brother had just dropped her to mamu jaan's house because her mother was staying here and had been calling her to come over. She didn't know she'll be greeted by the grim reaper the moment she entered inside.

Grabbing her hand, Zain dragged her frame to the side and pinned her against the column adjacent to an arched window―freeing her hand and running his own through his hair.

"You have the worst timing ever," Zain said through clenched teeth. "Hamesha galat waqt per namoodar hojaati ho tum."

"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" Sameera managed to stammer out.

"Sightseeing," Zain deadpanned.

"What?" Sameera yapped but then narrowing her eyes, she hissed, "You came here to meet Iman, didn't you?"

"Pata hai toh pooch kyun rahi ho?"

"Unbelievable. You actually broke into the house for her?" Sameera almost felt impressed by his filmy act for her boring cousin but then mentally slapped herself.

Her eyes involuntarily spotted the bruises on his face and even at gun point, she couldn't resist but blurt out, "I like what Haider did to your face by the way."

"You and Iman, both overrate that guy so much it's almost annoying," Zain scowled. "Anyways, Samara-"

"Sameera," she bit out the correction.

"Yeah whatever, I have a good news for you."

Sameera hoisted a brow and she was sure it touched the metal object he had placed on her forehead. "With that gun on my head? Sure."

Zain clicked his tongue and removed the weapon from her head. "I'm going to clear the way for you."

Sameera heaved a sigh of relief but her face twisted the next second, "What way?"

"Your way to Haider. I won't let him marry Iman so you are free to make a move on him," Zain told her with a playful wink.

Sameera's face surged with heat as a bashful gasp fled her lips. "Ye-ye kya bukwaas hai!"

"Oh cmon," Zain rolled his eyes. "I know you've got the hots for him. I saw it that night when you were passionately defending him."

He watched her cheeks turning redder in amusement as she started swinging her gaze here and there, completely flustered.

"Kya bakay ja rahay ho tum. B-Badtameez aadmi!"

"That I am," Zain smirked. "So now, you be a good girl and go inside without making the slightest noise coz if you do, then," he lifted his hand and poked her forehead with the barrel of the gun twice, "I swear I'm very adept at using this."

Sameera gulped and nodded her head vigorously. "Alright, alright, I'll do as you say. Just let me go."

Zain retreated, providing her the space and motioned her to go.

Slapping her hand on her mouth, Sameera ran straight through the corridor while Zain whirled around and bolted out of the building because he was sure that hand on her mouth wasn't going to stay there for long and she was going to open her big mouth to scream.

Any minute now, he anticipated as he ran towards the garden to find the other door.

But to his surprise, no sound came and he swiftly navigated through the beautiful, well-groomed garden, inhaling the heady scent―and following Iman's instructions, he reached to the door.

As he unlocked it and got out of the Bakhtiyar mention, a chilly gust of wind flurried through a particular shrub of honeyflower that was right at the end of the door he had used to egress.

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The sun had awakened from the slumber, colouring the first dawn of January with its aurous beams―carrying sparks of hope, dreams and new highs for some―obstacles, lessons and new lows for others.

The man who had fallen victim to the latter was the father of Iman Bakhtiyar.

Sat in the opulent drawing room of his house with his older son, he struggled to face and directly look into the eyes of the guests that had graced him with their presence today.

"You have no idea how grateful I am that you're still accepting my... daughter after everything that happened," Ashfaq Bakhtiyar told his friend who was perched on the sofa with his legs crossed and a stern look etched onto his face.

He had never felt so humiliated and powerless in front of his friend before and it was all because of his own daughter.

"Only and only because of my son's insistence," Khawar Ali Khan's voice was as prickly as a needle. "Otherwise I would've never even seen that girl's face again."

Ashfaq swerved his head to the side clenched his jaw in raw fury. "Even I don't want to see her face again."

The emotion didn't last for long as his grey eyes descended on the blasé demeanour of the man he had chosen for his daughter―sitting on the left side with his elbow placed on the upholstered arm panel of the sofa and his face leaned against his curled fist.

"Tmhara zarf bohot bara hai, Haider betay," Ashfaq stated, looking at him.

Haider's lips twitched upwards. The old man wasn't wrong because if it was some other woman, he wouldn't have even thought of marrying her but this... this was Iman.

And he had to teach her a lesson for what she had done.

His thoughts shifted from Iman to the guy she had pathetically begged him for. He hadn't received any call from his men about his whereabouts yet but he had made his mind that if they couldn't find him―and if he was smart enough to disappear and never even think of her again―then he was going to spare him.

A servant suddenly bolted inside with a worried look casted over his face and directing his gaze to Ashfaq Bakhtiyar, he apprised, "The police are at the door. They're asking for Haider Sahab."

All the men present in the room had a look of puzzlement as they scrambled to their feet.

"What for?" asked Ashfaq but when the servant shook his head in denial, he stormed outside and Haider, along with his father, followed suit.

As they appeared in the hall, they saw a group of men attired in the stygian and khaki uniform standing there, waiting for them.

"Hello, Sir." The middle-aged lawman with a stubby black mustache took a step forward and greeted.

"What's the meaning of this, Officer? What are you here for?" Ashfaq asked with a disturbed frown.

"We apologize for the surprise visit, Sir, but we went to Mr Haider's house and found out he's here so we had to come here," The officer clarified.

Haider hiked forward and with a scowl, he intoned, "I'm Haider Ali Khan. What do you want with me?"

"We have your arrest warrants, Mr. Haider." The officer pulled out a note and presented it before him, drenching the men present in the hall in utter bewilderment.

"What rubbish? On what charges?" Haider exclaimed, his mind failing to comprehend anything.

"For assaulting, kidnapping and torturing a police officer."

Haider's jaw dropped. "What the hell are you talking about? I haven't done anything like that."

"We have enough proofs and witnesses, and the FIR was directly lodged by the injured officer." The cop lowered his hand and told him.

"I don't understand anything," Haider eyes burned in conundrum. "Who the hell is that police officer?"

"Me."

A gravelly voice boomed across the hall followed by the rough sound of footsteps, making everyone turn their heads and attention towards the entrance from where a masculine figure entered.

"Inspector Zain Awan."

The frosty bucket of shock and surprise poured over Haider's head as his wide eyes watched the familiar frame of the man prance inside―clothed in an obsidian leather jacket with lapel collars, layered over an ash grey shirt and dark jeans―but darker than his attire was the statement he had made.

"Member of Special Investigation Unit."

He further announced as he strode towards Haider with an infernal glow in his eyes.

Haider pulled in a harsh breath and his brows knitted into a contemptuous frown as the man in black stopped before him and regarded him with amusement contouring his hellish face.

"I told you, didn't I, Mr Khan?" Zain intoned and lifting his hand, he tapped his finger on the side of his jaw where Haider had hit him at the beach and mumbled with a sneer;

"That you'll end up behind bars for this."

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A/n: Zain woke up today and decided to end Mr Khan's whole career. Well, surprise surprise beeches.

Not really.... :') coz I'm sure everyone knew Zain ain't a criminal xD but OKAY, SHOW SOME LOVE TO INSPECTOR ZAIN FROM SPECIAL INVESTIGATION UNIT.

Y'áll must have some questions regarding this uhhh twist or development, but I assure you, they'll be answered in the next chapter. You'll also meet Zain's family!

Also, I wasn't supposed to add that Sameera and Zain's little scene in this chap but it sounded so hilarious in my head that I couldn't resist lmao!

This chap is dedicated to my favourite girl, the ever-so-lovely sshan_01 I love you more than Ereh loves freedom and all the aot references in this chapter are specially for you. <3

Also, we can't be friends if you haven't heard The Neighborhood's song: Crybaby. So, do yourself a favour and listen to it coz it really does resonates with Zain and Iman alot.

Lemme know what you think of the chapter. Even if its a single comment, I'd really really appreciate it!

And don't forget to gimme the stars coz this girl really worked her ass off this week to get this chap out!

See you. ;)