Next morning, Meher got a call from Zayaan’ assistant for another meeting scheduled at the same restaurant to discuss some further things. She agreed to it and got ready for the meeting.

Café Darzi – Afternoon

Zayaan watched Meher sip her coffee slowly, the city bustle visible through the wide glass windows behind her. She looked out for a moment, distracted by a couple laughing outside. He followed her gaze, then looked back at her, quietly studying her profile.

Zayaan (softly): “Do you often look at people and wonder about their stories?”

Meher (smiling, turning to him): “All the time. Har chehra ek kahani hota hai na? Some just hide it better than others.”

He nodded, impressed by her observation.

Zayaan: “And what about your story? Do you hide it?”

Meher hesitated, then leaned back in her chair.

Meher: “Maybe. I think we all do. Life doesn’t always give us neat endings. Some parts... stay unfinished.”

Zayaan (quietly): “Kuch kahaniyaan kabhi khatam nahi hoti. They just... change shape.”

For a moment, their eyes locked again. A silent current passed between them, something unspoken but undeniable.

Zayaan whispered, "She is so beautiful, why can't I stop looking at her?"

Did you say something? Meher asked. No. Zayaan replied.

Meher (breaking eye contact): “I should go. My Baba likes me home before evening.”

Zayaan stood with her, polite and composed.

Zayaan: “Let me drop you?”

Meher (smiling lightly): “That won’t be necessary. My driver is waiting outside. But thank you, Mr. Khan.”

He watched her walk away, her presence still lingering at the table.

Zayedi Mansion – Later That Evening

Farhad sat in his study, flipping through an old poetry collection. He looked up as Meher walked in, her expression soft and thoughtful.

Farhad (smiling): “You look lost, beta.”

Meher (sitting beside him): “Hii Baba, Bas... today’s meeting was... unexpected. Zayaan Ali Khan is different.”

Farhad (raising an eyebrow): “Different how?”

Meher (carefully): “He listens. He talks like he means every word. And he doesn’t smile often... but when he does, you feel like it cost him something.”

Farhad's smile faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered.

Farhad: “Just remember, Meher, jo log zyada chup rehte hain, unka dard bhi gehra hota hai. That silence comes with a price.”

She nodded slowly, unsure why his words felt more like a warning than advice.

Farhad: Achaa come, dinner ka time ho gaya hai. Aur tumhe pata hai tumahre baba jaan apni jaan ke saath hi khana khaate hain.

Meher stood up and side hugged him and said “Jii baba, I know, main aapki favourite hoon.”

Later that night, after dinner, Farhad came into Meher’s room, she was watching a movie. He told her, “Meri jaan, mene kitni baar kaha hai na ki sone se pehle, no social media, no mobile phones and television.”

Meher: Baba please, I promise I’ll sleep after this.

No. He said and turned off the TV, took her mobile phone and laptop, said good night and went back to his room.

ZK Foundation – Monday Morning

The modern building was a blend of glass and metal, reflecting sunlight off its clean surfaces. Meher took stairs and as she entered the lobby area she was guided by a young assistant.

Assistant: “Mr. Khan will meet you in the Research Lounge. This way please.”

Meher followed, nervous but curious. The lounge was spacious and tastefully designed. A shelf lined with psychology books stood along one wall, opposite tall windows that overlooked the harbor.

Zayaan was already there, sitting with two files open.

Zayaan (standing): “Welcome to ZK Foundation, Ms. Zayedi.”

Meher: “It’s beautiful here.”

Zayaan (gesturing to a chair): “Beauty is only meaningful when it serves a purpose. Sit, let me show you your workspace.”

He explained the project resources, research methodology, and how the Foundation had worked on childhood trauma cases globally.

Zayaan (pausing): “Miss Meher, this isn’t just a research assignment. We’re trying to understand scars that never healed. I need people who don’t just think—but feel.”

Meher (meeting his gaze): “Then I hope I’m the right choice.”

Zayaan: “Mujhe lagta hai, you are.”

There was a stillness in the air, heavy with something neither of them could name yet.

Meher started working on the reports she already made along with some new reports provided by Zayaan’s assistant. She got to know so many cases and their studies. There was none similar to hers. That day she kept waiting for Zayaan as she kind of started crushing on him. But he didn’t come to meet her.

Zayedi Mansion – Later That Night

Meher sat in bed, typing notes on her laptop. Farhad peeked in, carrying a cup of chai.

Farhad: “Tum iss kaam mein dil laga rahi ho.”

Meher: “ZK Foundation is serious about this. Zayaan Ali Khan is... focused. Passionate, even.”

Farhad (sitting at the edge of her bed): “Bas apna dil kisi kaam se zyada kisi shakhs ke saath na laga lena.”

She smiled, brushing his hand gently. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

Farhad (after a pause): “I trust you, meri jaan. That’s enough.”

His words lingered longer than intended.

ZK Foundation – Following Week

Over the next several days, Meher and Zayaan’s interaction grew, personally and professionally. He’d check in on her progress, occasionally stop by her desk with a quiet suggestion, or sometimes, just a wordless nod.

One afternoon, while reviewing a case file, Meher noticed his handwriting in the margins.

Zayaan’s Note: “Even the strongest hearts have blind spots.”

She stared at the line, unsure if it was for the case or something else.

Later that day, as they walked down the hallway after a team meeting...

Meher: “Sir, may I ask you something?”

Zayaan (stopping): “Of course.”

Meher: “The nightmares you mentioned in our first meeting... Do you have them too?”

There was a pause. “Sometimes. But I’ve learned to live with them.”

Meher: “How?”

Zayaan: “By giving them purpose. If pain can be used to heal others, maybe it wasn’t all for nothing.”

"Okay, its lunch time, go and eat something now. Don't over work, take care of your health as well." He said and went to his cabin.

His words hit her deeply. She didn’t say anything more. She just walked beside him, a little more aware now of the quiet gravity he carried.

He understands me, he takes care of me just like Baba.

Rooftop Garden – ZK Foundation

A week later, she found herself having lunch alone on the rooftop garden. Zayaan appeared unexpectedly with two coffee cups.

Zayaan: “You always eat alone?”

Meher (smiling): “Not always. But solitude helps me think.”

He handed her a cup, then sat beside her.

Zayaan: “Solitude... or loneliness?”

Meher (half-laughing): “Sometimes, both.”

They sat in silence, the wind brushing past them gently. The city below felt far, like a memory.

Zayaan (after a long pause): “You remind me of someone.”

Meher (turning): “Who?”

Zayaan (meeting her eyes): “Someone I wish I hadn’t lost.”

Before she could respond, he stood up.

Zayaan: “Let’s get back to work.”

And just like that, he was gone again—leaving Meher with a thousand questions... and the feeling that this story was only beginning.

Meher started thinking about him more and more. Their conversations grew more informally, with a connection and bond she wish to have forever by her side.