24.

                                    

                                          
Umeed smirked at herself in the mirror, her sleeveless top tucked into her sweatpants as she fixed it onto her shoulder. The strap of her lace was fixed under her top and she smirked to herself. Two could play this game.
The exhaust was on so she was blinded to any noise outside the bathroom, and she smirked at herself, she looked good. Umeed had applied her favourite citrus body balm, her collarbones glowing as well as her shoulders. She carefully placed the towel over her shoulders and was set to fight back Farjaad Khan, knowing he had slipped and he was a witness to that.
Carefully, Umeed opened her door as she gave herself one last smile in the mirror, and walked out, only to be frozen into place and tug her towel tighter around herself.
"Sameer? Haya?" She all but spoke unsurprisingly, seeing her blood sit on the sofa, opposite Farjaad, who was, still in his robe? Her soul left her body and the colour of her skin was pale all of a sudden, very pale. She held onto that towel like it was carrying all her modesty, watching Sameer and Haya stare at her with dread, Haya having that motherly stare that made Umeed's legs tremble without having to even explain herself.
Haya took two long steps forward, reaching for Umeed's elbow and yanking her forward.
"Umeed tum kya harlatein karti phir rahi ho." She whispered, watching her cousin stare back with uncertainty and wet strands hanging from her head. Umeed's eyes turned to Farjaad for only a second, getting a glimpse of his uncomfortably position and standing up.
"Relax." She whispered to Haya, pulling her elbow away and rubbing it, the towel fixed. 
"Um." Farjaad pointed to the closet, Umeed understood why he had not changed, Sameer and Haya must have arrived instantly. She could not even imagine how awkward it must have been for them while she was under the shower fantasizing about how she would pull Farjaad's strings.
"Oh, right." Umeed straightened up and walked to her closet, pulling out Farjaad's suit and handing it to him. He nodded appreciatively and stormed to her bathroom, leaving her with two eyes burning into her skin.       
"Umeed what the hell?" Sameer did not hide his bewilderment, walking closer to his sister who sighed with her eyes closed.
"Guys relax. Mein sab samjhati hoon." She realised that there was no point in having a towel over her. She was clothed, and it's not like they were to have understood her intentions through a sleeveless top. She pulled the towel off and threw it on the couch.
"Umeed ye bohot bohot ghalat lag raha hai tou soch samajh kar aur sachi baat batao!" Haya warned her with a pointed finger. They had both huddled around her, trapped her for answers. Umeed was ready to retaliate her closest mother-to-be but was constantly getting interrupted. "Uska naam kya hai."
Sameer tried connecting the dots. That man was awfully familiar, he had seen him somewhere before and it was killing him that he was unable to point to where it was.
"Farjaad hai wo-"
"I sold him a painting!" Realisation hit Sameer like a train. He exclaimed loudly, remembering him. If there was one thing Sameer was good at, it was his customers. He had to be good with names when the paintings he was selling were for tens of thousands. "He was in Karachi and he bought a painting from me!" He accusingly exclaimed, like he had caught the thieve red-handed.
"Kab?" Umeed was a little taken aback. It was unrealistic for her to believe that Farjaad and Sameer had interacted before, but Sameer was certain. 
"Mujhe kya pata but Umeed that's not the point. Ye yahan, idhar, aese... what the hell is going on?" He folded his arms. I