Entangled Love ✓

Chapter 48

I miss you, Dad.

I shudder in panic when my phone starts vibrating inside my bag. I take it out and see the name, a sigh leaves my mouth. How can I just forget about it? I rub my eyes and face to stop the tears. After taking a long breath to get my voice back to normal, I attend the call.

'Zara, I think you just forgot that we had arranged a meeting.'

I bite my tongue in apprehension. Why I am becoming so clumsy these days?

'I am so sorry Mr. Wajahat. I have been really busy lately. I am coming to you in an hour.'

I disconnect the call quickly and am about to go when Dad's picture in my hand snags my attention. I kiss the picture and plop it back on the table. My brows knit when I discern a book on the same table. The book is squirted with the mud. I grab the book, out of curiosity and blow the dirt off it with my hand. The book is actually a diary; a dark green cover encasing it. It is worn out with many pages from inside torn and facing outward. I have never seen this diary before.

How come Dad has a diary? From what I remember, he has never used a diary. I open it and the first thing at which my eyes land is the unknown name; Bia. Who is this?

I flip through the pages and every sheet has neat and beautifully crafted paintings. How comes someone else's diary is present here. Perhaps she is someone Dad knows. When my heart corroborates what my mind is telling, I put the diary back on the table. I am already getting late for meeting Mr. Wajahat and today, I don't want to overlook Dad's case.

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"Have a look at this picture."

I glance at Mr. Wajahat first while taking the picture from his hand. With quivering heart, I peep at the picture. My eyes get narrowed in confusion seeing a woman in the picture; rather an unfamiliar woman. From her look in the photo, she seems like a middle-aged woman.

"Who is she?" I ask him.

"I knew it that you won't know her. She is Rabia-Rabia Nasir; a local retired school teacher in Islamabad. I have got to know from my sources that she is some relative of your father and he has married her five years prior to his death," he explains.

My eyes remain wide open in shock as my heart almost forgets to beat. Dad has married; five years ago; and he doesn't tell me.

"Wait a moment, he can't do this. He can't do this without telling me. Why he would hide it from me?" I mumble as fear starts set settling in my heart: fear of betrayal.

"That is what I was thinking as well. But this is the truth," he replies in an apologetic tone.

"How do you know about it? This can be false. Isn't it?" I stand up in a hurry, my eyes popping out due to struggling to put a halt to my tears.

"His nikkah with her is registered in the court. I have proof as well," he bends down to open the drawer in his table and take out a document, "look for yourself."

My last hope also dies down seeing the document having bold words verification of what Mr. Wajahat is saying. I pull my hair in despair. Dad thought I won't be happy with his happiness. He thinks of me this voracious and selfish. 

"And the case of your father is settled; he himself named his every property to his wife and unfortunately, we can't do anything for you now, " he declares in a serious and remorseful intonation.

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Zainab's POV

The anxiety and perturbation are evident from Armaan's face. This is the first time, I have seen him in the much tumult and unrest. And that's the reason, today I try to read him; scan his every expression, every movement. Thinking about our dates and conversations since he has got married; the only thing my mind is responding to that answer is, he has always been oblivious of my presence. Despite being seated with me, he always remains in a stupor of deep thoughts.

Today, as well, he is rubbing his forehead as his eyes are locked on his phone. His fingers are slamming hard on its screen and his forehead is creasing at the same time. His lips are pursed in a thin line as his attention is wholly on the phone. I wonder what tension he is going through now?

"I got to know about your wife. And I am amazed," I assert.

He abruptly looks up at me like he isn't expecting me to say this.

"So your cousin has informed you," he mumbles, but I can discern the coarseness in it.

"Why not? After all, he is my best friend," I reply with a fake smile.

"I didn't come here to beat around the bush, Armaan," I lean forward and settle my arms on the table, "we have been doing this for two years. I want you to not linger me on sweet hopes. Give my parents a date already."

Instead of saying anything, he smirks.

"He has taught you all this?"

At the same time, he again diverts his attention to his phone. I lift myself a little and peeps at his phone. Resentment flows through my whole body observing Zara's name glistening on the screen. So he has been calling her for the whole time.

"That doesn't matter. Do what I am saying to you," I yell.

I don't realize I will end up shouting at him. Perhaps beholding him getting worried for his wife makes me lose control over my anger.

"I will do whatever you will say but first you have to listen to me," he announces. His voice is steady and calm like he is least affected by my yelling.

"I don't want to listen to you. Whatever you have to say, say it in front of my parents," I stand up from the copper cased chair.

It's clear, this causes many people to look at us but at this time, I don't care about anyone. Why Shaiq's advice is echoing in my ears? And making it feel like something like he has said, is going to happen. Now I get why Shaiq has said about getting bad vibes from them; Armaan's care and unease for Zara are giving me the same anxiety.

"Calm down, Zainab. First, let me talk," he too gets up and says in a low voice.

Should I listen to him?
      

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Salam guys!

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