The fog rolled over Elmsbury like a forgotten memory—soft, silent, and always lingering just long enough to unsettle the peace. Nestled in the hills of this city was the prestigious, Noorani Business School, its glass buildings gleaming against the misty sky.

Inside, students filled the seminar rooms, sipping coffee, exchanging laughter, yet unaware that today would shift the air around them.

Among them sat Meher Zayedi, a final-year psychology student, known for her brilliance, grace, and mystery. She wore a soft beige sweater, her long dark hair tied in a loose ponytail. She was the kind of person whose silence spoke volumes.

She sat in the seminar room early, flipping through her notes for an upcoming assignment.

Classmate, Areeba (whispering): "Meher, did you hear? We've got some CEO coming in
today. Tech guy. Billionaire and all." 

Meher (without looking up): "Another one of those 'hustle harder' types?" 

Areeba (giggling): "Apparently, he's young... and very single. Bas, aur kya chahiye?"
Their conversation was interrupted by the seminar coordinator entering with a confident smile.

Coordinator: "Students, please welcome today's guest speaker. He's the founder and CEO of ZK Enterprises... Mr. Zayaan Ali Khan."

The room grew still.
In walked a man in his early thirties. Tall, strikingly handsome, with an aura that demanded attention but held something unreadable beneath. His deep-set eyes scanned the room—not in search, but in study.

And for couple of seconds, his gaze locked with Meher's. Something flickered in his
expression—recognition, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly. 

Zayaan (calmly): "Good afternoon. I won't bore you with my achievements. Let's begin with a question instead."

He placed his tablet on the table and leaned against the podium. 

Zayaan (with a small smile): "Can a haunted mind ever lead with peace?"
A hush fell over the room. Students stared, not sure if it was a riddle or a trick. 

Meher (quietly, almost to herself): "Maybe... if it learns to forgive itself." 

Zayaan turned, the smile fading.
Zayaan (softly): "Forgiveness is a privilege not everyone gets. Har kisi ko maafi nahi milti."

There was something in his voice. A wound wrapped in velvet. The students didn't notice,
but maybe Meher did.

After the Lecture, Outside the Seminar Room – Later

The students came out. Some took selfies with Zayaan, others asked for LinkedIn connections to connect with him, and since he was so freaking handsome, girls were around him but NOT MEHER. She was lost in her thoughts of what Zayaan said about forgiveness and the intense eye contact they had in the seminar room.

Areeba nudged Meher.

Areeba: "He's totally looking at you, yaar. What did you say in class? It hit him hard."
Meher (brushing it off): "Just a thought."

Behind them, Zayaan watched Meher walk down the hallway. His expression unreadable. He turned to his assistant.

Zayaan (low voice): "Get me her file."

Assistant: "Sir?" Zayaan (firmly): "Meher Zayedi. Everything. Academic records, family background, especially her father."

His assistant walked off after agreeing to follow what Zayaan told him to do.

At Zayedi Mansion - Evening

The Zayedi Mansion stood like a fortress on the edge of town. With stone pillars, manicured lawns, and high-tech surveillance, it wasn't a house—it was a statement.

Farhad Zayedi, Meher's father, sat in his study. He was a man of power and reputation, known for his charity work and business empire. Yet his eyes betrayed a history much darker than the polished image.

Despite of his nature and his decisions in his professional & business life, he loved Meher, he adored his only daughter after his wife died. He could do anything for the happiness of his daughter Meher.

He looked up as Meher entered, her laptop bag still slung over her shoulder.

Farhad: "You're late."

Meher: "We had a guest lecture today. Zayaan Ali Khan."
(She watches him carefully.)

Farhad: "Oh?"

Meher: "You know him?"
Farhad (recovering): "Everyone in the corporate world knows him. Smart man but keep your distance, okay meri jaan?."

Meher (curious): "He was... different. Talked about trauma. It felt real."

Farhad (sharply): "Don't get involved. Focus on your thesis. Aur unnecessary logon se door raho."

She nodded slowly, and hugged him like always.

At Zayaan's Penthouse - Night

City lights blinked below. Zayaan stood by the window of his penthouse suite, staring out in silence. The place was pristine—modern, dark, almost sterile. No photos. No warmth. Only sharp lines and expensive art. His home felt like it was screaming something but the voice was not heard to anyone except one - him - Zayaan.

He walked to his study, unlocked a drawer, and pulled out a velvet box.

Inside was a silver locket.

He opened it.

Inside was a photograph of a young girl, barely five years old, short black coloured hair, with a bright smile, wearing a pink colour dress that could let anyone stop and adore that little girl. Next to her was a woman with soft eyes. Both long gone.

Zayaan (whispering): "I've found her... Meher Zayedi."

He closed the locket and looked at a small file on his desk labeled:
"Farhad Zayedi: Profile. Classified."

His eyes burned, not with grief, but with purpose, a purpose that needs to be fulfilled anyhow even if it costs his life.

Zayaan: "Khel shuru ho gaya hai." (It's time to begin the game now)

Hey adorable people!! Its me, the author, let me know how you guys like the chapter!🖤