The next update will be within a few hours InshaAllah:)

Zera took a deep breath and smiled at herself as she took a moment to drink in the sight of the huge mansion.

Everything looked opulent from the gleaming wood floors covered in loving throw rugs to the sheer curtains billowing like mist on the floor to ceiling windows that faced the early winter sunset.

It was the first time that she got an opportunity to attend a high-profile wedding.

She had met sameera a few months back in the chemistry laboratory  during her first year at the university and they had instantly clicked together.

Consequently, they turned out to be friends. But for Zera it looked like a business arrangement as Sameera would pay zera for helping her with the notes and assignment's and as zera badly needed money, she was more than happy to oblige.

Zera looked intently at her surroundings, the furnishing had an vintage vibe and a story to tell,  they had antiques with what looked like handcarved workmanship, each area of the room melting into the beauty of the next, and some delicate settees next to more heavy bookcases and fireplaces that mated with the walls that appeared to be actually used.

She had come here to help sameera with her dressing, and later when the family had left for the wedding avenue they had requested her to accompany them.

The wedding took place in a huge ballroom with eye-catching decorations.

Zera looked at all the sophisticated guests present there who seemed to be engaged in slow and witty conversations.

She felt odd and left out.

Nevertheless, she was content just to be standing there and looking at the famous faces that she had only seen in magazines or on television.

It felt like a dream and she had to constantly remind herself that it was reality.

No one bothered to glance her way or took a moment to converse with her as she was the only person present with hijab and such an old dress and it made her seem very unapproachable.

People with hijabs were universally considered orthodox or unliberated and therefore not many seemed to take interest in the person inside the hijab.

Zera remembered a saying, 'If not covering oneself is modernisation then animals are the more modern than humans.' She let out a hearty laugh and after what seemed like hours of standing alone in the corner, she decided to feed herself.

On her way, she glanced at a famous businesses man, Izaan Ahmed , whose photos she had constantly seen in the magazines. If she was right then the man was sameera's brother. She had seen him earlier in their house and  couldn't stop herself from thinking that he looked more handsome when you saw him in person.

Zera reluctantly dragged her gaze over his perfect deep honey eyes which seemed to be alight with fire. Even his posture shouted perfection. He was laughing at a joke passed by someone standing opposite to him, and the carefree nature blended into his character with brilliance.

Zera wished that she had the opportunity to know the real man behind the facade of success.

But when the man turned his piercing gaze towards her, scrutinizing her, she felt so mortified that she avoided looking in his direction and made her way to the tables in which a variety of dishes where elaborately presented. It was a mere feast to the eyes to look at them.

There were sudden murmurs of MashaAllah and zera turned around to witness sameera make an entrance. She was clad in a beautiful golden lehenga and it enhanced her pale complexion.

People began gathering around her, either to congratulate her or make polite conversation, but zera remained rooted to her spot. She did not do very well with crowds.

Sameera was totally in love and her husband-to-be also looked completely star-struck. She was happy for sameera.

Even though Zera was alone, she had been enjoying the evening, but her good mood came to an absolute halt when she noticed a man in black texudo stalking her.

She felt perspiration dew her forehead and quickly wiped it with a clean handkerchief.

As the man approached nearer the more nervous she felt. She tried to calm herself but to no avail.

Her breath caught in her throat when she realised who the man was. He was the famous journalist who was awarded for his bravery only a few months back.

What interest could he have in a plain jane like her?

'Hello.'

Zera tried forming a sane reply but ended up just licking her dry lips.

'I have been noticing you all evening. It looks like you aren't enjoying the wedding.'

She gave a weak smile, clutching her white gown tightly for support.

What was she supposed to reply?

'Hello. I'm Thufail Ahmed,' He held out his hand.

'I'm Zera khan,' She replied softly and looked intently at his hand, still unable to decide her course of action.  Islamically it was wrong to shake hands with non-mehram male, but at the same time she did not wish to offend the only person who had taken the pains to make small-talk with her.

'You won't offend me,' He threw back his head and laughed loudly, 'Do not lessen your principles merely to impress someone,' He withdrew his hands and stuffed them back inside his trouser pockets.

'Thank you,' She left out a relieved breath.

'Ahh you are being very formal,' He waved his hand in air.

'What brings such a famous journalist here?' Zera questioned with curiosity.

'Here?' He raised his eyebrows, 'To the wedding? Or to you?'

Zera couldn't hold back anymore, she let out a hearty smile, 'Both?'

He smiled so huge that it displayed his perfect set of teeth and enhanced his handsome facial features.

'Now that sounds like a interesting question,' His lips curved into a half smile.

'What if I say that I'm stuck in a life an death situation and I have come to you for support or -------' he pursued his lips, 'survival sounds better.'

Momentarily crease covered her forehead but when his expression remained intact she let out a small laugh, 'You have a good sense of humor.'

He kept a hand on his heart, 'Thank you ma'am.'

Zera was so awestruck that she had completely forgotten about the empty plate in her hand. She regained her senses only when Thufail snatched the plate from her hands and began piling them with food.

He guided her to the beautifully decorated tables and chairs present in the room and they took their respective seats.

They began having their food in profound silence for a few seconds and then within a blink of a second Thufail reached over the table to get his drink and clumsily his hand hit the flower present at the center of the table.

Zera let out a loud gasp as all the contents of her plate came toppling over her dress.

'I'm so sorry,' He got up from his place and looked truely apologetic and zera had to convince him that it was fine.

She rushed to the washroom to get cleaned and it took her full twenty minutes to realise that her handbag wasn't with her.

Zera quickly dabbed her wet face with the clean facial wipes present in the cabinet above the washbasin and ran past other members to the party hall.

To her utter dismay, the nikah ceremony had concluded and all of the guests were walking towards the exit. She desperately searched for her bag and was relieved to find it above one of the empty chairs.

She glanced at the crowd in search of Thufail, but he seemed to have left the avenue.

Zera felt a stab of pain that he had parted even without a goodbye.

She followed the rest of the guests and reached the exit and much to her delight sameera had arranged a car for her return.

Zera got comfortable in her seat and sat by the window watching in fascination as the car sped by the place inhabited mostly by the upper class residents.

It took her forty minutes to reach her place which was in the farthest corner of the city and contained middle-class people.

She hopped out of the car thanking the driver and made her way towards her small and cosy house.

Zera had spent one of the most interesting nights of her life, and right now she just wanted to snuggle into her bed and have good dreams.

She slept as peacefully as a child, without any knowledge of the dark future that awaited her.

When zera woke up in the morning and read the headlines, she had to take a seat before her weak knees would give way.

There on the first page, written in bold letters were the words,

'THUFAIL AHMED, A WELL KNOWN JOURNALIST WAS FOUND DEAD IN HIS HOTEL ROOM LAST NIGHT.'