Love, Lies & A Cup of Chai

Chapter 6

Pasha's Cafe stood inconspicuously, a charming anomaly amidst the urban landscape. The small building, almost too small for the bustling city, had no more than five or six tables within its cosy confines. Despite its size, the thoughtful design of both the exterior and interior exuded a warmth that intended to envelop the customers as they entered. With just a lone floor, a large board proudly proclaimed its identity as 'Pasha's Cafe,' adorned its roof, a subtle invitation to passersby.

Except for the fact that it was located a mere five-minute stroll from the nearby school, the location of the cafe seemed an unusual choice for anybody to set up shop. With no major offices, universities, or bustling institutions surrounding it, the decision almost appeared foolish. A singular door adorned the center, flanked by expansive but not expensive glass windows that offered a glimpse into the manager's desk, where Umeed Pasha was sitting now.

Farjaad adjusted his stance, rising onto the balls of his feet and casually leaning against the sleek bonnet of his car. Arms crossed confidently over his chest, his unwavering gaze had lingered on the same spot for the past thirty minutes. He saw Umeed engrossed in a stack of papers, her fingers occasionally dancing across the laptop keys. Occasionally she'd call out to Taha or Zoya and then moments later, she'd leap from her chair to address a pressing matter before returning to her seat, seamlessly navigating the tasks at hand. It was like a pattern.

Umeed looked extremely focused, her left hand running through her hairs exasperated. Elbows rested on the table, she seemed to be grappling with an issue on the papers before her. While her eyes pierced into the papers, across the road from the cafe, Farjaad Khan Bahadur's keen gaze remained fixed on her, specifically on the watch adorning her wrist. The relentless Karachi sun seemed to be failing to faze him as he stood nonchalantly, seemingly lost in a trance-like observation.

He knew what he had done. He knew what he had to do. But somehow it felt like his feet were threaded into the surface of the road he was standing on. It was twelve noon on a Wednesday. He was the CEO of a firm, and he was aware of the very pressing matters that awaited him in the office. It also included a bunch of meetings that he had postponed, much to Miss Mehak's surprise. Farjaad was acutely aware of why he had made the conscious choice to drive all the way to this spot. It wasn't to bask in the sun and let him along with his car acquire a free tan. Nevertheless, there he stood, just opposite Pasha's Cafe, seemingly unable to take a single step forward, the blistering sun the least of his concerns.

Farjaad felt like he couldn't face her. For a man whose entire life revolved around meeting people and skillfully persuading them to buy into his words, this situation caught him off guard. To be blunt, he was scared. Who knew what her eyes would hold?

Her eyes.

What if, as he approached her, he found nothing but disgust in her eyes? Or worse, what if her gaze held the unmistakable pain of hurt? The thought of her being hurt because of his insensitivity towards something and someone so dear to her, twisted his insides. It wasn't just a passing thought; Farjaad recognized the reality that he had indeed hurt her.

Now, he grappled with uncertainty—uncertain of whether she would ever see him in the same light again, whatever that light was, uncertain if she had reconsidered working with him, uncertain about the emotions her big, doe-like eyes might hold for him, if any at all. As he continued to stare at her figure in the distance, Farjaad reluctantly accepted the truth. The truth that he wouldn't find answers to any of these questions today.

Because Farjaad Khan Bahadur, after six long years for the first time, was scared. He felt like the twenty two year old young little coward again.

He released a long, heavy sigh, his lips pursed in resignation. With a glance downward, he collected his thoughts before finally sliding into the car. As he drove away, he disappeared into the road, fading from view just as a pair of eyes—ones he found himself thinking of a bit too much than he would like to admit—behind the glass windows instinctively shifted her gaze outward.