Mehr was still in the room. The next day had begun. Areeba entered quietly. The door wasn't locked, and Mehr was still sitting on the floor beside the bed, unmoved.
"Mehr Api," Areeba gently placed a hand on her arm.
Mehr looked up at her.
"Please… don't do this to yourself. To us. Don't be so cruel. Believe me, we're still with you."
Mehr didn't speak, her silence hollow and heavy.
"You have to come back to us. Be who you were. Please, Api."
Mehr's eyes were distant. She barely blinked.
"Why are you wasting yourself on someone who never valued you?" Areeba's voice broke slightly. "If you take the 'Sultan' from Mehr, there's nothing left. If you take the 'Khanum' from Mehr, there's nothing left. A person remembered only by their parents—when they're taken away—what's left behind is just a living corpse. And now, even that has been taken from me. Do you call this living? Tell me, Areeba."
Mehr looked at her helplessly, her voice raw.
"I know you're broken," Areeba whispered, "that's why I brought you this."
She placed a round wooden box in Mehr's lap.
"This was Baba's," Mehr said softly.
"I found it while cleaning. When I picked it up, I found this inside." Areeba handed Mehr a photograph, then quietly left the room.
Mehr smiled faintly. It was a picture Sultan Sahib had taken of her when she was twenty. She flipped it over. On the back, in his handwriting, it read:
Without Mehr, Sultan is nothing.
Her eyes filled with tears as she read it again and again. For the first time in days, she felt her father's love pierce through the numbness.
She placed the photograph on the bed and opened the wooden box. Inside, it was mostly company-related documents—until her eyes landed on a page marked with a date.
26-09-2023
The date was exactly two years ago. Mehr tried to remember what had happened that day. She flipped the page.
"The ruler sees everything. He is the most sincere. With the evidence we gathered, the truth is now known."
Mehr's brow furrowed.
Who is 'the ruler'? What truth? What is Baba talking about?
On the next page, another date appeared.
18-12-2023
Beneath it:
"We've discovered the killer. And I was devastated to learn it was someone close to me. If only he hadn't done this—I wouldn't be living in this pain."
That was all. The next pages were back to routine business entries. Nothing more.
Her chest tightened. Confusion clawed at her. She stood up with her father's diary clutched in her hands.
Who was Baba talking about? Who was close? Who was the killer?
She rushed to the study and shut the door behind her.
Baba must have written more. Somewhere.
She turned over every book, opened every drawer. Nothing.
She scanned her father's notes again—and stopped at one line.
"Hakim knows everyone."
Mehr's heart dropped.
Hakim? I'll ask Uncle Yusuf.
She left the room and called out, "Uncle Yusuf!"
Yusuf, tending plants in the lawn, looked up at her voice.
"Yes, beta?"
Mehr stood on the upper floor, Yusuf below.
"Do you know someone named Hakim?"
Yusuf's expression changed instantly.
"Yes, I know him. Why?"
"I was just curious. Who is he?"
Yusuf wiped his hands on his shirt. "He worked for Sultan Sahib," he said, then fell silent. "Is everything alright?"
Mehr smiled faintly and shook her head, retreating to her room.
He works for Baba. Hakim… Hakim…
The name repeated in her mind like a drumbeat.
She changed into black clothes, tied her hair neatly, grabbed her phone and purse, and left the house.
"I'm going to the office," she announced.
Yusuf stepped out and called after her, but she was already gone. He stood, anxious.
Why was she asking about Hakim?
---
At the office, Hakim and Nawaf were heading toward the elevator.
"Hakim, I don't know anything anymore," Nawaf said nervously.
Just as they stepped in, Nawaf froze.
"There she is."
Hakim followed his gaze. Mehr stood ahead.
"My heart's racing," Nawaf whispered. "Let's take the stairs."
Hakim gave him a look. "Your heart's broken, not mine."
He stepped into the elevator and found himself face-to-face with Mehr Sultan.
"Stay away from me," Hakim told Nawaf quietly and moved in.
Nawaf sighed and joined them.
Mehr stared at her phone. Hakim stared at her. Nawaf stared at Hakim.
Hakim finally said, "Hello, Miss Mehr Sultan."
She looked up, startled. Her eyes searched his face and then Nawaf's.
"Hello?" Her tone was flat, puzzled.
Hakim blinked. "You don't recognize us?"
Mehr thought for a moment. "Have we met before?"
Hakim clenched his jaw. What a strange girl.
Before he could reply, the elevator dinged. Their floor.
Nawaf pulled him out. Mehr followed quietly.
"We're the lawyers who came to your house with the inheritance documents," Nawaf reminded her.
Mehr's expression remained unreadable. "Okay," she said, then walked toward her father's office.
Hakim stood there, hands in his pockets. Neither he nor Nawaf expected such a cold response.
"What is she doing here?" Hakim muttered.
Nawaf slapped his arm. "It's her company. She can come whenever she wants."
Hakim turned away.
"I'm going to the washroom," he said, and left.
---
Mehr entered her father's office. It was exactly as he had left it—clean, warm, familiar.
She sat in his chair. Took a deep breath.
The nameplate on the desk read: Sultan.
Her eyes brimmed, but she didn't cry.
There was a knock at the door. She rubbed her eyes quickly.
Hakim entered.
Seeing her in that chair, he smiled.
"You look good sitting there."
She gave him a curt nod. "Is there something you need?"
He took his hand from his pocket. "Just wanted to ask—are you taking over the company?"
Mehr didn't answer. Instead, she asked, "Do you work here?"
Hakim chuckled loudly. "Obviously. I was Sultan Sahib's lawyer. Of course I work here. You're funny, Mehr."
She stared at him. Her heartbeat thundered. Her anger boiled.
She wanted to scream at him.
But she contained it.
"Do you know who 'the ruler' is?" she asked calmly.
Hakim scratched his chin, closed one eye as if thinking hard.
"Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."
"You were my father's lawyer, right?"
He nodded.
"Then you'll be mine."
Hakim smiled. "From Sultan's lawyer to his daughter's—yes, I'll be yours now."
They shook hands.
Just then, Nawaf burst in.
"Hakim!"
Their hands were still clasped.
Nawaf looked at them, confused and awkward. Hakim quickly put his hands behind his back.
Mehr turned to him sharply.
"You're Hakim?" she asked, her voice rising. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"
Hakim looked annoyed. "You asked, 'Do you know Hakim?' Not 'Are you Hakim?' I didn't know who you meant."
Mehr stared at him, breathless. Frustrated.
This man—just like the others—would never admit fault.
She grabbed her purse.
"I don't want to see your face again."
She shot Nawaf a glare, stormed past him, and stepped into the elevator.