Chapter VIII

                                    

                                          
The constant fear of being exposed was consuming her, but after that day, Farjaad neither visited nor attempted to contact her. She was both relieved and confused, recalling how he had clearly stated that he wouldn’t leave without knowing the truth.
It was nearly midnight when she was closing up the café and received a home delivery order. She could have declined, saying the café was closed, but the address was on her way home, so she decided to drop off the package herself. After clearing up, she grabbed the package and headed out.
She arrived at a high-end building, a tall structure with blue glass windows. She asked her Uber driver to wait while she delivered the package. The building seemed like a workspace, but it was eerily quiet, with no signs of life. Tired, she approached the reception desk, but it was empty, likely because the staff had left. She asked the guard on duty, who directed her to the 13th floor. 
When she reached the 13th floor, the entire space was deserted, except for some voices coming from one room. She knocked and pushed the door open, recognizing the woman’s face immediately—it was the same woman she had seen in her café a few days before, with Farjaad. She could see the back of the man who looked familiar but didn’t want to jump to conclusions. As he tilted his head slightly, her worst fear was confirmed. It was him. Oh God, why did fate bring her here at this hour? 
She stood there for a moment, observing them. He was sitting and talking with that woman, in her office, at midnight. Panicking, she turned to leave, but in her clumsy state, she knocked over a vase, which fell with a thud. The people in the room turned to look in her direction as she bolted before they could identify her. 
When Farjaad turned and saw her running away, he recognized her instantly. How could he not? 
Manahil tried to persuade him to stay the night, mentioning that she had ordered food and black coffee, and she was nearly successful—until he saw that woman running away. "Let it go, Farjaad," Manahil dismissed it, but Farjaad couldn’t ignore what he had just seen.
Umeed hurried down the stairs to the 10th floor before taking the elevator to the ground level. She reached the exit and handed the package to the guard. "Please give this to them," she said hastily.
"Umeed!" Farjaad shouted her name as he ran after her, but by the time he reached the entrance, she was already in the car, driving away. He stood there, panting from the exertion.
"Sir, she left this package," the guard informed him, noticing how out of breath he was. Farjaad looked at the brown paper package labeled "Pasha's Café."
"Take it upstairs," he instructed the guard before heading to his car. Thankfully, he had his phone and car keys with him; his jacket could wait. Right now, he just wanted to end the night.
For the past few days, he had been trying to uncover what might have happened three years ago, but that was a personal mission. To justify his stay in Islamabad, he needed an excuse, and the only plausible one he could think of was Manahil Khanzada. She was the perfect cover. Back in Karachi, he informed everyone that his trip was related to new investments, and that's exactly what he told Manahil too. But it was clear that she had entirely different intentions.
He had attempted to contact the landlord of the place where Umeed was living, and all he managed to learn was that Kashaf was the landlord's daughter. It was obvious then how the two of them must have become close. Beyond that, he didn't glean much from the situation, and for now, he was stuck with that limited information. What he really wanted was to talk to either of them, though he knew Umeed wouldn’t utter a word. As for Kashaf, he didn’t want to drag her into the situation. He also hesitated to involve a lawyer, even though he couldn’t be sure how much Umeed might have confided in her.