The Encounter at the Mall
The air in Packages Mall was a blend of expensive perfumes and the hum of a thousand weekend shoppers, but inside the boutique décor shop, the world felt quieter, filtered through rows of crystal and porcelain. Hooreen's fingers grazed a delicate ceramic showpiece, her eyes lighting up with a warmth that seemed to brighten the entire corner.
"Look at this... isn't it unique?" she whispered, her voice a melody of genuine affection. The piece featured two entwined figures, a symbol of enduring strength, with "Love you Mom and Dad" etched in elegant gold script. "I think I'll buy this for Mamma and Papa. Maybe... maybe a gift like this will finally make Mamma smile at me."
Amna and Sehrish exchanged a soft, knowing look. They knew how much Hooreen craved that maternal warmth. "It's perfect, Hooreen," Sehrish began, but her sentence was cut short by a sudden, violent crash.
A group of children, unsupervised and chasing each other through the narrow aisles, had collided with a tall pedestal. A heavy glass vase, meant to be a centerpiece, tipped and shattered against the marble floor. The sound was like a gunshot.
"Ah!" Hooreen gasped. A large, jagged shard had flown outward, slicing through the side of her foot with surgical precision. For a second, there was no pain—only the sight of the white floor being marred by a sudden, blooming crimson stain. Then, the sting arrived, sharp and throbbing.
Across the atrium, leaning against the polished railing of the second floor, Kayan Zarar stood like a statue of ice. He was supposed to be thinking about the meeting he just left or the apology gift he owed Hareem, but his mind was a fractured mirror, reflecting only the girl he had seen at the stadium weeks ago. And then, as if summoned by his very thoughts, he saw her.
She was standing amidst the glittering wreckage of the shop. He watched, breathless, as the radiant smile he had memorized vanished, replaced by a sharp intake of breath and a grimace of agony. Even from a distance, he could see the way her small hands trembled as she reached for her injured foot.
"Hooreen! Your foot is bleeding! Oh my God, there's so much blood!" Sehrish's panicked cry echoed up to the rafters.
Amna, her protective instincts flaring like a wildfire, stepped between Hooreen and the cowering children. She gently guided Hooreen to a nearby velvet chair, setting the "Mom and Dad" showpiece safely on a table. "Are you blind?" Amna hissed at the kids, her voice trembling with rage. "Where are your parents? Don't they know how to look after their own children in a place like this?"
Hooreen gripped the armrest, her face turning a ghostly pale. "Amna, don't... don't scold them," she whispered, her voice thinned by pain. She tried to force a smile, but it was a brittle, tragic thing. "They're just kids. It's an accident... I'm okay."
"You are not okay, Hooreen!" Amna snapped, but her anger was redirected as a woman in designer silk marched over, her face contorted in a sneer.
"My child did nothing wrong!" the woman shrieked, her voice cutting through the growing crowd like a knife. "Don't you dare speak to him like that. Who do you think you are? You people clearly have no class, no standard. I don't know where girls like you come from—wandering into luxury malls just to look for an excuse to blame others. Are you trying to extort money? Is that it?"
From the balcony, Kayan's grip tightened on the railing until his knuckles turned white. The woman's screeching reached him, every word a fresh insult to the girl who was currently bleeding and trying to be kind. His eyes darkened, a predatory stillness settling over him.
"Amna, ignore her," Sehrish said, her voice a beacon of logic. "Let's just take her to a doctor. That's more important than this woman's ego."
By the time Kayan navigated the escalator and pushed through the throng of spectators, the three girls were gone. He reached the spot where they had stood, his heart hammering against his ribs. The only thing left was a few droplets of blood on the tile and the lingering scent of her floral perfume.
He felt a sudden, irrational restlessness. He had missed her. Again.
Just then, the boy who had caused the chaos—still running, still reckless—thudded into Kayan's leg. Without a word, without even a flicker of hesitation, Kayan's hand moved in a blur. The sound of the slap was crisp and final.
The child didn't just cry; he howled in terror, the sound bringing his parents running back.
"What happened to my child? Who hit him?" the mother screamed, reaching for her son.
Kayan turned to her. His presence was glacial, a towering shadow of cold authority that seemed to suck the air out of the room. "So, you come running when you see your child in pain?" his voice was a low, dangerous drawl, dripping with sarcasm. "Perhaps if you spent more time ensuring your child wasn't a danger to others, he wouldn't be in this position. Because of your negligence, a girl was injured and left in tears. Consider this a lesson in the manners you failed to teach him."
The woman's mouth opened, but no sound came out. She was looking into the eyes of a man who looked capable of dismantling her entire life.
Her husband stepped forward, his face draining of color as he recognized the man standing before him. "S-Sir... Mr. Kayan?"
Kayan looked at him, his eyes narrowed. "Anas. You were in the boardroom with me two hours ago."
"I... yes, Sir. I'm so sorry. I apologize on behalf of my son, please—"
"Oh, so this is your family?" Kayan interrupted, his voice devoid of empathy. "The arrogance of your wife and the recklessness of your child reflect poorly on your judgment, Anas. It would be better if you stayed home and taught them some decency. You aren't needed at the office anymore. In fact, don't bother coming back."
Kayan didn't wait for the man's pleas. He turned on his heel and strode toward the mall exit, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number with focused intensity.
"Waleed," he said as soon as the call connected. "Drop everything. I need you to check every clinic and hospital within a five-mile radius of Packages Mall. Look for a girl in her early twenties, accompanied by two friends. She has a deep cut on her foot. I don't care what it takes or how many favors you have to call in. I want her name. I want her address. I want her entire life story on my desk by tonight."
Coincidentally, Amna's fiancé, Zaid, was also in Lahore for a medical meeting. He was a doctor based in Islamabad. He met them at the mall to go shopping together. Seeing Hooreen injured, he immediately took them to his car and dressed her wound. They planned to head home, but Hooreen insisted that the others finish their shopping. She and Sehrish stayed in the car.
Waleed sent Kayan details of several girls, but none of them was her.
When Hooreen returned home, Ilyas Sahib and Halima were terrified to see her bandaged foot. "What happened? How did you get hurt?" Halima Begum asked anxiously. "Does it hurt much, beta?" Ilyas Sahib added.
Amna explained everything. Halima Begum scolded Hooreen, assuming she must have been careless. Hooreen just listened and smiled; she knew her mother's anger came from a place of hidden pain. After her mother left, she told her father, "Papa, if getting hurt brings Mamma close to me, I am willing to bear this pain for the rest of my life."
"Shhh, don't say that, beta. May Allah keep you from all pain."
Anas called Jailani Sahib, explained the incident, and begged for his job back. Jailani was surprised by Kayan's behavior—he had never been this impulsive. When Kayan returned, Jailani called him into the study.
"Kayan, Anas called me. He said you fired him?" "Yes, Dad. I didn't like his family's attitude." "What does his family's attitude have to do with us? The man is loyal to the company. That's all that matters." "Dad, he will not work for us. If you're so worried, find him a job elsewhere, but not in any of our companies." Kayan was firm.
Jailani looked at him with concern. "Kayan, what is going on in your head? I feel like you're hiding something." "Nothing, Dad. I'm just tired. Goodnight."
In his room, Kayan collapsed onto his bed. When he closed his eyes, he saw her again—but this time, she wasn't smiling; she was crying. He opened his eyes, restless. "How can a girl affect me this much? Why did I hit that child?" He reached into his shopping bag and pulled out the showpiece he had seen in her hand—he had gone back and bought the exact one. "Who are you? Why are you making me so restless?"
The School Conflict
The atmosphere at the school always felt slightly suffocating to Hooreen, but today, the air in the administrative wing felt particularly thick with malice. Still glowing from the warmth of Amna's Nikah the day before, Hooreen walked toward the Principal's office, unaware that her first day of leave in four years had been weaponized against her.
Inside, the room was a den of silent calculations. Principal Nafeesa sat behind a heavy mahogany desk, flanked by the Vice Principal, Mahjabeen, and Sumara, the accountant. These three were the shadow architects of the school's decline, quietly draining the accounts while keeping the uneducated owner, Akbar Sahib, in the dark.
Mahjabeen didn't even wait for Hooreen to sit down. Her eyes, sharp and rimmed with heavy kohl, snapped toward the young teacher.
"You were away yesterday, and your class was an absolute mess," Mahjabeen snapped, her voice like a whip. "The boys were completely out of control. They broke a window and a surveillance camera. The lack of discipline in your absence was appalling."
Hooreen felt a jolt of disbelief. She had spent four years pouring her heart into those students, often staying late without pay to ensure they stayed on track.
"That's not my fault," Hooreen replied, her voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in her chest. "In four years, I've taken exactly one leave. I left my lesson plans ready. If things went wrong in my absence, you should ask the substitute teacher who was supposed to be monitoring them."
Sumara, leaning against a filing cabinet with a smirk that didn't reach her eyes, let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"It is absolutely your fault. We can't control those 10th-grade boys; they are savages. Because you decided your personal life was more important than your duties, the damage will be deducted from your salary."
Hooreen felt the blood rush to her face. It wasn't about the money—it was the blatant, targeted injustice of it all. They were looking for a scapegoat to cover their own administrative failures.
"If you want my salary, take it," Hooreen said, her voice rising in defensive fury. "But don't make up baseless excuses. We all know the boys listen when they are treated with respect, something they clearly didn't receive yesterday."
"See, Ma'am?" Sumara sneered, turning toward Principal Nafeesa. "These teachers have no respect for authority anymore. Their tongues have grown far too long. And who knows what 'magic' these three friends have worked on the boys? The students don't listen to any of us—only to them. It's suspicious, if you ask me."
The insinuation stung more than the fine. They were implying that her rapport with her students was something manipulative rather than earned. Tears welled in Hooreen's eyes, hot and stinging. She looked at Nafeesa, hoping for a shred of fairness, but the Principal simply adjusted her glasses with an air of boredom.
"Enough," Nafeesa dismissed her with a flick of her hand. "My decision is final. You'll only get half your salary this month to cover the repairs and as a penalty for the chaos. Now leave."
Hooreen didn't say another word. She turned and practically ran out of the office, the sound of their muffled, victorious snickering following her down the hallway. By the time she reached the staff room, the tears were flowing freely.
Amna and Sehrish were waiting, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm the moment they saw her face.
"Hooreen! What happened? What did those witches say?" Amna demanded, her hands already curling into fists.
Hooreen collapsed into a chair, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed out the details of the meeting. The unfairness of the contract, the stolen salary, and the insults to her character felt like a physical weight.
"I wish I were the owner of this school," Hooreen whispered through her tears, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and sudden, desperate ambition. "I'd show them how a school and its teachers are actually supposed to be treated. I'd throw them out of those offices myself. But I'm trapped... I'm stuck in this contract, and they know it."
Amna knelt beside her, pulling her hands away from her face. "Don't let them break you, Hooreen. They're scared of you because the students actually love you. One day, the tables will turn. I promise you."
The Second Encounter
The school went on a trip to Lahore. Hooreen didn't want to go, but she was forced to as a class incharge. At Packages Mall, two of her students, Shehrbano and Maryam, went missing.
"If the Principal finds out, she'll humiliate us right here," Hooreen worried. They split up to find them.
The girls had bumped into Kayan, who was shopping for his wedding with Hareem. Unlike his usual self, Kayan stopped when he saw the kids were lost. "Are you two okay?" The girls were charmed by him. Maryam whispered to Shehrbano, "He's handsome and seems like a good person. He'll help us."
"You two must be lost," Kayan smiled. "And your uniforms say you're with a school group." "You're smart as well as handsome!" Shehrbano exclaimed. "Not all pretty people are smart—like our Miss Amna, she's pretty but not very smart, which is why we got lost."
Hareem was annoyed. "Kayan, let's go. They'll find their way. Our wedding shopping is being delayed." "You're so mean!" Maryam told Hareem. Kayan suppressed a smile. Maryam whispered in Kayan's ear, "Are you really marrying this 'Mean Auntie'? You deserve someone like our beautiful teacher."
Kayan laughed. "The 'not smart' one?" "No, the other one... she's..."
Before she could finish, a sweet, angry voice echoed through the hall. "Maryam! Shehrbano!"
Kayan turned around and froze. It was her. Her nose was red with anger, making her look incredibly cute. He was lost in her once again. She scolded the girls and led them away, oblivious to his gaze.
"Hooreen...!" The name escaped Kayan's lips. He ran after them but lost them in the crowd. "Dammit! I talked to those kids for so long and didn't even ask for their school's name!"
He left Hareem at the mall and sat in his car, closing his eyes. He realized he had lost his heart to a stranger. "You have become my love. Without you, my life has no meaning. Whoever you are, you are mine."