Journey to Hidaya | ✔️

| 01 |

~
"In the name of Allah, the most Gracious, the most Merciful." (Qur'an 1:1)
~

"Ms. Zoya?"

Auburn curls fly. A pretty face turns and jhumkas dangle from her ears. A sequined dupatta adorns soft shoulders, and the bangles on her wrist jingle merrily as she flips through the papers in her hand in frustration.

"This better be really important, Sameer."

The guy pauses, and the helicopter blades in his ribcage can be heard even from a distance.

"Uhh—"

"Stop stuttering and tell me what you want." Zoya slaps the papers onto the table. "And where the hell is this stupid file?"

After a moment of calculated silence, Sameer says, "Which file?"

"The one with the new designs and blueprints for the sherwanis and lehengas!"

"Where did you put it?" he dares to ask.

"On my head!" she shouts, glaring at him. "If I had known that, Sameer, why the hell would I ask you where it is?"

He stays quiet, knowing full well not to interrupt his boss in her rage.

Zoya sighs, closes her eyes, and pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. She takes a deep breath. "You have two seconds to tell me what you disturbed me for, Sameer."

Sameer rushes forward. "Ma'am, there's someone here for an interview."

At this, her eyes fly open. She narrows her gaze. "Send him to Bill, as we discussed. And get me some chamomile tea, please."

Sameer turns to leave, then dares to run on knives and turns towards his boss again. "Ms. Zoya, are you alright? Why don't you take a little break?"

She flips her hair behind her shoulders and places a hand on her hip.

Once, Sameer's heart used to beat faster around her. And not out of fear. But whose heart hasn't and doesn't at least once beat irregularly around stunning Zoya Zameer?

"I'm okay, Sameer," she says, fanning herself with her dupatta. "Breaks can't be afforded. Especially not now, when the industry is booming and the demand for Pakistani clothes for Fashion Week and bridal occasions and so forth is higher than ever. Can you believe this? Dreams are coming true." She makes a grand sweeping gesture with her arms.

Sameer smiles and leaves it at that, exiting her office.

Zoya Zameer returns to searching for the black file.

~

The man behind the large oval desk clears his throat.

"I'm Bill Krenak, the senior manager here," he says, rifling through the file in his hands and pausing to eye the interviewee in front of him. "Haroun is your name?"

"Yes, sir."

"Am I pronouncing it correctly?" Bill asks. At the flash of surprise on Haroun's face, Bill chuckles. "As I'm sure you've noticed, Zameer is a very diverse company. We celebrate people of all backgrounds and value our employees' comfort here."

Haroun nods. "Yes, sir, thank you. You're pronouncing it correctly."

"Awesome. Do you have a preferred name?"

"No, sir."

"Tell me about yourself, Haroun."

"What do you want to know, sir?"