Two days had passed since the seminar, yet Meher couldn’t stop thinking about Zayaan Ali Khan.

There was something unsettling, strange, yet familiar in the way he’d spoken. The calm in his voice, the way his eyes seemed to have lived through something tragic. He wasn’t like the other CEOs who celebrated their success like trophies. He was... quiet, measured, almost haunted.

Noorani Business University - Psychology Department

Meher sat in the library, cross-referencing trauma case studies. Her thesis was on PTSD in childhood survivors. The topic had always interested her, even before she knew why.

Professor Naureen (entering): “Meher, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Meher (standing): “Jee Sir, of course.”

Professor: “I recommended some of the students thesis ideas to ZK Foundation. They’re funding psychological research this year. Zayaan Ali Khan personally asked for your proposal.”

Meher (startled): “Woh... he remembered?”
Professor: “Apparently, he was very impressed. He wants to meet you... formally.”

Meher hesitated.

Meher: “Mujhe samajh nahi aa raha ke ye achanak se... I mean, it’s good, but strange.” Deep down she was really excited to meet him one on one to hear more from him, about him.

Professor (smiling): “You’ve earned it, Meher. Kabhi kabhi zindagi achanak se mauqay deti hai. Grab it.”

ZK Enterprises - Executive Office

Zayaan stood before a large glass wall, watching rain paint the skyline. Behind him, his assistant entered.

Assistant: “Sir, Ms. Zayedi has agreed to the meeting.”

Zayaan (without turning): “Good. Schedule it for Friday... lunch. Not in the office. Somewhere... softer.”

Assistant: “Sir?”
Zayaan: “Public space. Let’s not scare her yet.”

Assistant: Okay sir. He left.

Zayaan said to himself, "Oh, toh aap mujse milne ke liye itna interested hain, ke pehle invitation pe hi haan kar diya, Miss Meher."

He turned slowly, his expression calm—but his eyes said something else.

Zayaan (quietly): “Step one, complete.”

Zayedi Mansion - Meher's Room

That night, Meher sat by her window, reading a case study, but her mind drifted. She looked at an old picture of her mother—soft smile, eyes full of warmth. Her mother had died when Meher was young. Her memories were blurry, like old film reels.

She shut the book.

Meher (to herself): “Why does he feel familiar?”

Her thoughts were broken by a knock.

Farhad (outside): “Meher?”

Meher: “Aa rahi hoon, Baba.”

She opened the door. Farhad stepped in.

Farhad: “Tumhara naam Zayaan Ali Khan ne recommend kiya. I heard from your professor. That’s good news.”

Meher (carefully): “You’re okay with it?”

Farhad (smiling tightly): “Of course. Just... don’t get too close. You know how much I care about you.”

Meher made him sit with her and she started telling him about her day. While telling him the stories of her university, she fell asleep in farhad's arms. Farhad loved his daughter more than anything in the world. He quietly adored her and said to himself. “Etni badi ho gayi meri jaan, kitni choti si thi jab baba baba krke mere sath khela karti thi, aur ab baba baba krke muje saare din ki baatein baccho ki tarah btati hai.”

Farhad made Meher sleep in her bed, tucked the bedsheet so she wouldn't catch a cold and quietly left her room.

Next morning, Mehar had created a ruckus in the whole house. She wasn’t able to decide what clothes to wear for the meeting that she had with Zayaan. Deep down she was nervous that she has to look good in front of him.

Wearing a formal white shirt, with a blazer over it and blue pair of jeans, and hair open, she left from her home hurriedly.

Cafe Darzi - Friday Afternoon

Zayaan was already seated when Meher arrived. The place was modern, minimalistic, and unusually quiet for lunch hour.

Zayaan (standing): “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

Meher (nodding): “Thank you for inviting me.”

They ordered coffee. Small talk followed.

Zayaan: “You study trauma. Any reason why you chose that subject?”

Meher (pausing): “I’m not sure. Maybe... because I feel connected to it. I used to have nightmares when I was younger. Strange ones.”

Zayaan leaned forward slightly, hiding the way his breath caught.

Zayaan (carefully): “What kind of nightmares?”

Meher (hesitant): “A woman crying... blood on the floor... cold corridors. Sometimes a child screaming. Mujhe samajh nahi aata ke ye memories hain ya imagination ya mera future.”

There was a long pause.

Zayaan (softly): “Some things stay with us, even if we don’t remember them clearly. The mind hides trauma... but the soul doesn’t forget.”

Meher looked at him, startled by his words.

Meher: “That’s... exactly how it feels.”

For a moment, their eyes locked again. That same pull. That invisible thread.

Zayaan (changing tone): “So... will you work with the Foundation? We’ll provide research resources, and... I’ll personally supervise your case study.”

Meher (confused): “You will?”

Zayaan: “Yes. I’m very invested in this field. I know what it feels like to lose your peace.”

Meher agreed to work together with him and joined ZK enterprises.

Zayaan's Penthouse - That Night

Zayaan poured over documents and images—old photographs, maps, a diary with torn pages. Every piece of evidence led back to one man.

Farhad Zayedi.

The name was printed on old news clippings, hidden police reports, and classified case files. A fire. A murder. A sealed investigation.

Zayaan (to himself): “You thought you buried it. You thought no one would ever come back.”

He picked up the photograph of his mother, burned at the edges, and whispered:

Zayaan: “Main aagaya hoon, Ammi. And this time... I’ll finish it.”

Hey adorable people!! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!🖤