The mall hummed with a soft electric life—storefronts glowing under warm spotlights, the distant sound of music from a kids' zone, and the occasional echo of high heels on tiled floors. It was past 8 PM, and most people were winding down their shopping.
From the men's clothing store emerged Inaya and Nabeel. Her left hand clutched several heavy shopping bags—designer logos printed boldly on glossy paper, their thick ropes digging slightly into her wrist. She kept her right hand free, just so she could intertwine her fingers with Nabeel's as they walked.
Nabeel's hands were empty.
They strolled slowly down the corridor, their reflections trailing beside them in the shop windows. As they turned a corner, a tall figure in a sleek, olive-green coat approached from the opposite side.
It was Faqair.
His coat fell just past his knees, sharp lapels framing a clean black turtleneck. He had one hand tucked into a pocket and the other holding his phone loosely, but his stride was calm—unbothered, self-assured.
As he spotted them, he slowed. "Hello," he said, voice even, but with a flicker of something deeper behind it.
Inaya's face lit up in instant recognition. "Hi!" she said brightly, though she hadn't expected to see him tonight.
Beside her, Nabeel had gone silent.
His eyes were fixed on Faqair. The coat. The watch. The expensive sneakers. The subtle coordination of every piece of clothing. There was no flashy branding—just quiet, undeniable luxury.Nabeel's brows twitched slightly. He didn't know whether he felt admiration or intimidation.
Inaya noticed his sudden stillness and gently tapped his shoulder. "Nabeel?"
He blinked as though waking up. "Ya… yes. Hello. Hello."
"Oh!" Inaya turned to Faqair, realizing she hadn't introduced them. "He's—"
Faqair's eyes had already dropped to their joined hands.
His voice softened, just a little: "I'm not stupid. I know... he's your boyfriend, right?"
He tried to sound casual, but there was an invisible thread of sadness in his tone—pulled tight beneath every word. He hadn't expected her confirmation to sting, but somehow, it did.
Inaya, not catching the shift in his expression, nodded. "Yeah. He's Nabeel."
Faqair gave a tight, polite smile and turned toward him. "Nice to meet you, Nabeel."
Nabeel extended a hand. "Same here," he replied, still slightly dazed, his gaze flicking back to the lines of Faqair's coat.
Faqair's eyes then dropped to the bags.
All of them—clearly heavy—were in Inaya's hand. Her wrist slightly red from the weight.
His brows furrowed.
"You've been shopping?" he asked, though the answer was obvious.
Inaya offered a half-laugh. "Actually… these are Nabeel's."
Faqair's expression shifted—surprised, maybe a little annoyed.
"And you're carrying them all?" he asked, looking directly at her.Before she could answer, Nabeel cut in casually. "I told her I'd carry them, but she insisted."
Inaya gave him a look—side-eyed and sharp. Faqair caught it instantly.
He reached forward. "Inaya, you shouldn't be holding all this."
She hesitated. "It's fine—"
"No, it's not," Faqair said firmly.
He took the bags gently from her and turned to Nabeel, holding them out.
"Here," he said. "You should be carrying these."
Nabeel looked briefly startled. "Oh. Right." He took them, somewhat awkwardly.
"You should be doing this for her anyway," Faqair added, not unkindly—but not without weight.
"Yeah," Nabeel mumbled.
Faqair looked back to Inaya. "You're too stubborn."
She smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"We're heading to the juice corner," Nabeel offered, shifting the bags. "Wanna join?"
Faqair raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Please come," Inaya said, stepping slightly forward. "I haven't even properly apologized for last time."
"It's okay," Faqair said, waving it off.
He turned to Nabeel, making a polite gesture. "Is it okay with you?"
Still scrolling on his phone, Nabeel nodded. "Yeah."
Faqair hesitated, then finally relented. "Alright."
---
The juice corner was dimly lit and quiet, tucked in a far end of the mall near the food court. They chose a small round table.
"What should we order?" Inaya asked, her tone hopeful. "I'm craving—"
"Waiter," Nabeel interrupted, already waving the server over."Three orange juices."
Inaya's smile dropped a little. "You know I don't like oranges…"
"It won't hurt to drink it once," he replied flatly. "Don't act like a child."
She glanced down at her hands, lips tightening.
Faqair turned to the waiter. "Wait—change that. One orange, one mango. Inaya?"
"Mango," she said quietly.
"Two mangoes," Faqair said, nodding.
The waiter disappeared.
There was a short silence. Nabeel's phone buzzed again. He stood, answered, and walked away to take the call.
Faqair sat still, watching Inaya out of the corner of his eye.
She deserves better.
Nabeel returned after a few minutes, looking a little agitated.
"I have to go. Something urgent at the office."
"But—" Inaya began, her voice soft.
"Please. Try to understand."
The juices arrived just then. Nabeel took his orange juice, downed it in three gulps, and stood.
"I'm leaving. I'll take the bags. Text me when you get home, okay?"
"Okay…"
"Bye."
And just like that, he was gone. His figure vanished into the glittering crowd.
Inaya stared after him, silent. Her mango juice sat untouched.
---
Faqair waited a few moments before speaking, his voice intentionally light.
"Oh! I just remembered."
Inaya glanced at him, still withdrawn. "What?"
"I had to buy groceries."
She blinked. "Then go. The mall's closing soon.""Would you come with me?" he asked, smiling. "I could use help. I have no idea what I'm doing."
"You're asking the wrong person," she said.
"But it's better than going alone."
Faqair smiled faintly to himself. Maybe this will take her mind off it.
"What are we even getting?" she asked as they stood.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Umm…"
"Umm?"
"Wo to mujhe bhi nahi pata," he confessed, pouting playfully and running a hand through his hair.
She stared at him for a second—and then burst out laughing. Loud, real laughter, for the first time that evening.
"You came to buy groceries and don't even know what to buy?"
"Exactly."
"So now what?"
"I'll call Grandpa."
He stepped aside, quickly made a call, then returned. "Not much. Twenty minutes max."
"Let's go."
---
Thirty minutes later, they exited the grocery store, Faqair carrying small bags in his one hand, their conversation lighter than before.
"I'll book a cab," Inaya said, reaching for her phone.
"It's 10 PM," Faqair said gently. "I'll drive you."
"But—"
"I insist," he said, already turning to get the car.
---
Moments later, he pulled up near the exit. He stepped out, walked to her side, and opened the passenger door.
"Please?" he said, the smile on his face soft and genuine.
Inaya looked at him.
There he was—coat still crisp, the air of quiet confidence, but eyes full of kindness.
She smiled.
"Okay. Thanks."
She slid into the seat.Faqair closed the door gently, walked around to the driver's side, and got in. He didn't say anything.
He didn't have to.
The car moved forward slowly, headlights cutting through the quiet night. Neither of them spoke—but in the silence, something shifted.
Soft. Subtle.
But undeniable.
To be Continued....