The Breaking Point: A Father's Fury
The aftermath of the mall incident was instantaneous. While Kayan was driving through the streets of Lahore like a man possessed, Hareem was standing near the mall's fountain, her face flushed with humiliation. The whispers of the passersby felt like needles. To be left behind by her fiancé in a public place—and after being insulted by a group of schoolgirls—was a blow her ego could not sustain.
With trembling hands, she dialed her father, Mr. Laghari.
"Papa, he just left! He left me here like I was nothing!" she sobbed into the phone, her voice echoing off the polished marble. "I'm standing in the middle of Packages Mall and Kayan has vanished! He didn't care that I was alone or that those children were insolent. He just ran away after some... some stranger!"
Mr. Laghari's reaction was explosive. To him, this wasn't just a lover's spat; it was an insult to the Laghari lineage. He immediately placed a call to Jailani Sahib, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and wounded pride.
"Jailani, what kind of son have you raised?" Laghari roared the moment the call connected. "My daughter is calling me in tears from Lahore! If Kayan thinks he can treat a Laghari like a discarded toy, he is gravely mistaken. This wedding isn't just a contract; it's our reputation on the line!"
The Confrontation in the Study
When Kayan finally returned home, the house was eerily silent. He didn't go to his room. He didn't check his emails. He walked straight into his father's study, his eyes bloodshot and his posture rigid.
Jailani Sahib was standing by the window, his back to the door. The heavy silence was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock.
"Kayan, do you have any idea what you've done?" Jailani asked, his voice low and dangerous. He turned around, his face etched with a disappointment Kayan had rarely seen. "Laghari has been screaming into my ear for an hour. Hareem is shattered. And you? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Kayan didn't flinch. He took a step forward, his voice cracking with an intensity that bordered on desperation.
"Dad, I want that girl. At any cost."
Jailani froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What girl, Kayan? Have you lost your mind? You're getting married in a few days! The invitations are sent, the guests are arriving, and the business mergers are signed!"
"I won't marry anyone else," Kayan declared, his jaw set in a hard line. "I don't know her name. I don't know what city she comes from. But I know—I feel it in my soul—that she is mine. You've fulfilled every wish of mine, Dad. You gave me the empire, the cars, the status. Fulfill this one too. Find her for me."
Jailani slammed his hand onto the mahogany desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"Kayan, be reasonable! I am a businessman, not a magician. I can't find a nameless girl in a country of millions based on a five-minute encounter. This is a fleeting obsession, a phantom you're chasing because you're bored with your reality. I won't ruin two lives—yours and Hareem's—for a whim."
"It's not an obsession, Dad," Kayan whispered, his voice suddenly hollow. "It's love. For the first time in my life, I'm not thinking about a deal or a profit. I'm thinking about the way she looked when she was hurt. I'm thinking about her smile. If I marry Hareem now, I'll be a dead man walking."
Jailani looked at his son, seeing the raw, unpolished "Zarar" stubbornness reflecting back at him. He realized that logic would not work here. Only a challenge would suffice.
"Fine," Jailani said sternly, his gaze narrowing. "You want to gamble on destiny? Let's gamble. You have until the morning of the wedding day. If you find her by then—if you can bring her name and her person before me—I will personally call off the wedding with Hareem and stand by you. I will marry you to this stranger."
He paused, his voice turning to steel.
"But if you fail... if she remains a ghost... you will put on that suit, you will walk to the altar, and you will marry Hareem without a single word of protest. That is my final word, Kayan. Do we have a deal?"
Kayan looked his father in the eye, the weight of the ultimatum settling over him like a shroud.
"Deal," Kayan replied.
The Wedding Day
It was the day of Sehrish's Valima (reception). Hooreen's mother hadn't let her go to the Barat, but her father insisted she go to the Valima with Amna and Zaid.
At the same time, it was Kayan's wedding day. He had searched everywhere but failed to find her. He felt it was his fate and sat on the stage, a hollow man. He closed his eyes and prayed, "My Lord, I love her. If my love is true, let me find her..."
He opened his eyes.
Across the hall, two girls were walking toward the stage. One held a bouquet, the other a gift. Hooreen looked at the groom from a distance and felt her heart skip a beat. He looks like a prince, she thought, then immediately scolded herself. Fear God, Hooreen. He belongs to someone else.
As they reached the stage, Kayan looked up. His prayer had been answered. She was standing right in front of him.
The Answered Prayer
He had tried every possible way to find her, and in the end, he had bowed his head before his Lord and begged. He had never been one to pray, but today, he was pleading. A single tear escaped his eye. Suddenly, feeling a strange sensation, he opened his eyes—and there she was, standing right in front of him.
She was wearing a black Barbie-style frock, her hair straight and flowing, with natural makeup and a bouquet of flowers in her hands. That same enchanting smile played on her lips. Seeing her approach, Kayan stood up, dazed and unbelieving. Seeing him stand, Waleed and his other friends stood up as well. Hooreen and Amna approached him. Hooreen handed him the bouquet and spoke.
"Congratulations…"
But where was Kayan's focus? He was simply staring at Hooreen in utter disbelief. Waleed took the bouquet in his stead and placed it on the table. Amna placed a gift in his hand and said:
"Brother-in-law! This is a small gift from us. We could have given it to Sehri, but we want you to give it to her so it becomes even more special for her."
Kayan gave no response; his eyes were locked on Hooreen. Waleed took the gift from his hand as well and set it on the table. Hooreen began to feel a sense of dread and suffocation under Kayan's intense gaze. She grabbed Amna's hand and hurried down from the stage. They went into the bridal room, but upon seeing a different bride there, they realized they had entered the wrong hall.
"Hooreen, you brat! You brought us to the wrong hall. I told you we should ask Sehri, but no, you wanted to surprise her. Now look, we've been surprised instead! I told you even when we walked in that this wasn't the place, that it was the third hall, but you insisted your heart said this was the right spot. Look where your heart brought us! And on top of that, we left the gift there. What do we do now?"
Amna spoke with anger and worry. Hooreen, not one to stay silent, replied in the same tone:
"It's your fault too, and you were the one who handed over the gift. Now you go back and get it."
"Fine, it's both our faults," Amna said. "I'll go find the right hall, you go get the gift."
"No… I'm not going back there. I felt suffocated in that place," Hooreen said, making a face.
Amna teased, "Okay, I'll go get it, but can you go ahead to the other hall alone?"
"No… I'll get the gift, you find the hall. How can we just leave a gift with a stranger? It's our hard-earned money," Hooreen said quickly. She was afraid of going to new places alone and didn't know the layout of the venue. The option of retrieving the gift seemed better. Gathering her courage, she headed back toward the hall while Amna went outside.
The moment Hooreen turned her back to him, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Kayan felt a surge of adrenaline so potent it made his blood roar in his ears. She was walking away—again. The same light, rhythmic step that had haunted his dreams was carrying her out of his life for the third time.
But not today. Today, the hunter had found his prize.
As she reached for the gift on the table, her fingers brushing the wrapped box, Kayan's hand shot out. He didn't just touch her; he claimed her. His fingers clamped around her delicate wrist with a strength that was both terrifying and absolute.
"You are right," Kayan said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly vibration that sent a shiver of pure ice down Hooreen's spine. "This was indeed my fate. You were meant to walk into this hall. You were meant to bring these flowers. And you were meant to stay."
Hooreen froze. The air in the hall seemed to vanish. She looked down at the hand bruising her skin—a man's hand, expensive watch glinting under the chandeliers—and then slowly lifted her gaze to his. She saw eyes that weren't looking at her, but through her, filled with a terrifying, dark light she couldn't name.
"Excuse me? What are you doing? Let go of me!" she stammered, her voice trembling. "I told you, it was a mistake. We are in the wrong place. Please, you're hurting me."
Kayan didn't answer. He didn't even seem to hear her. To him, her voice was just the melody he had been chasing, and now that he had the singer, he wasn't listening to the lyrics. He began to move, not toward the exit, but toward the private corridor leading to the bridal rooms.
He dragged her.
It wasn't a gentle lead; it was a forceful, silent march. Hooreen's heels clicked frantically against the marble as she tried to plant her feet, but she was like a leaf caught in a storm. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Stop! Where are you taking me? Amna! Sehrish!" she cried out, but her voice was swallowed by the sudden, suffocating silence that had fallen over the hall.
The guests stood like statues. The musicians stopped mid-note. No one moved. The name 'Kayan Zarar' carried a weight in this city that acted as a physical barrier; to interfere with him was to invite professional and social suicide. Even Waleed stood paralyzed, his mouth half-open, watching his best friend descend into what looked like a beautiful, gold-trimmed madness.
As they reached the heavy oak doors of the bridal suite, the commotion finally reached the ears of the elders. Jailani Sahib and Ilyas Sahib were deep in a husposed conversation about business when a frantic guard rushed up to them, his face pale.
"Sahib... you need to come to the bridal wing. Now. Mr. Kayan... he has taken a girl. Not Miss Hareem. A stranger."
Jailani's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. "What did you say?"
"He dragged her from the stage, Sir. He looks... he looks possessed," the guard whispered.
Ilyas Sahib, Hareem's father, felt his blood pressure spike. "A stranger? My daughter is sitting in that room waiting for her Nikah, and Kayan is dragging common girls through the hall? Is this the respect the Zarar family has for us?"
The two older men strode toward the bridal wing, their footsteps echoing like thunder in the hushed corridor.
Inside the bridal room, Kayan slammed the door shut and turned the lock with a definitive click. Hooreen backed away, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with a fear that made her look even more like the 'Hoor' he had named her in his mind.
"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why are you doing this?"
Kayan took a step toward her, his shadow looming large against the floral wallpaper of the bridal suite. "I am the man who has spent every second of the last week looking for you. I am the man who bargained with God to bring you here. And today, I am the man you are going to marry."
"You're insane," she breathed, tears finally spilling over. "I don't even know you!"
Kayan's lips curled into a dark, predatory smile. "You will have a lifetime to learn my name, Hooreen. But for now, all you need to know is that you aren't leaving this room as a stranger. You're leaving it as my wife."
Outside, the handles of the door rattled violently as Jailani Sahib began to pound on the wood.
"Kayan! Open this door right now! Do you hear me? Open it before I break it down!"