After finishing, she stepped out of the room.
Hesitation was evident on her face, yet she steadied herself and glanced across the lounge, where Salar was on a phone call. She quietly walked up behind him and came to a halt.
Salar had already noticed Aizal approaching. He had sensed her hesitation and unease as well, yet he continued his conversation as though he were in no hurry.
Aizal stood with her gaze lowered, traces of restrained anger visible on her face. She wanted to speak to him, but Salar seemed to be deliberately making her wait. A faint smile lingered on his lips, as if her restlessness brought him a strange sense of ease.
As time passed, Aizal's unease turned into irritation.
Finally, when Salar ended the call, she drew a deep breath and spoke in one breath, without pause.
"I need to go to Lahore… now. Just drop me at the bus stand. If you can't take me all the way to Lahore, that's fine… but I don't have time. I need to reach Lahore as soon as possible… and once I do, you can send the divorce papers."
Hearing her words, delivered in a single breath, Salar's brows drew together.
"Madam, are you the Prime Minister of a country with no time?" he said with faint sarcasm. "And if you want to go to Lahore, go tomorrow. It's night."
"No… I have to go now," Aizal replied immediately. "I'll bring my things… just drop me at the stand."
Salar watched her in silence for a few moments, as though weighing the stubbornness in her tone and the anxiety in her eyes. Then, with a slight shrug, he said,
"Bring your luggage… I'll wait in the car."
Islamabad lay submerged in the darkness of a December night. The cold had settled deep, and a dense fog blanketed the city. Even the streetlights had dimmed in the haze.
Salar sat in the car, waiting.
A few moments later, Aizal appeared, a bag in her hand. A simple black abaya, a neatly draped hijab… a few damp strands of hair framed her face after wudu, yet she remained completely veiled.
A quiet purity and grace lingered around her.
When Salar looked at her, he stilled for a moment. The word slipped from his lips without thought—
"Ethereal…"
There was something about her… a purity that held his gaze.
The next moment, she reached the car, opened the back door, and sat inside.
Salar watched her, then said with mild irritation,
"Madam, do I look like your driver?"
Aizal replied evenly,
"That's up to you… you may think whatever you like."
Salar glanced back at her, a faint smile forming.
"Aizal Ameer Khan… oh, sorry—Aizal Salar Shah. You were married to me only a short while ago. Sitting in the front seat with me shouldn't be a problem. It's a long journey to Lahore… and you've already made me your driver."
Hearing her name with "Salar Shah," Aizal felt a slight jolt.
She spoke at once,
"I am not your entertainment to keep you awake on the way. And as for the nikah… it is nothing more than a formal bond on paper, which will end as soon as I reach Lahore. Thank you for your help—but beyond that, we are strangers."
Her bluntness did irritate him, yet the next moment, a faint smile touched his lips.
"Interesting…"
There was something about this girl—something that kept him from getting angry, even though Salar Shah was not someone who ever considered anyone his equal.
Just then, his phone rang, but he cut the call and started the car.
The journey from Islamabad to Lahore—nearly four hundred kilometers—lay ahead via the motorway.
A long drive… through a cold December night, wrapped in fog and silence.
They sat in the same car, yet an unfamiliar quiet surrounded them.
The car moved forward, cutting through the mist, while an unspoken tension lingered within.
At last, Salar broke the silence.
"If you disliked all this so much… why did you ask for help?"
Aizal remained silent for a moment before replying.
"Salar, you should be thanking me, but you—"
He had not even finished when she cut him off.
"I am grateful to you… but the truth is, I don't even like speaking to you. I had no other choice except to ask for your help."
At her honesty, Salar looked at her for a moment, then a faint smile appeared.
"It's going to be fun…"
he said quietly yet clearly, as if her dislike only made things more interesting.
Aizal turned her gaze away in displeasure, while the car continued through the fog—
and between them, an unspoken conflict moved along.
Was this the turn that was about to change Aizal and Salar's lives?
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