Chapter 2: First Encounter
'Lut gaye hum toh pehli mulaqaat main'
"Targets locked, kisi bhi masoom ki jaan nahi jaani chahiye", Zain said over his ear device, informing his team members to lock their locations.
The Akhtars', one of the most dangerous mafia gangs were about to attack Lahore's largest markets, and Zain's peole had to protect their community.
They had spread across the locations, 2 people in each market. Guns ready, but hidden from public, phones and energies charged.
Elsewhere, Laiba's house was filled with laughter. Her khala had made her favourite mooli paratha with some amazing chai. The cousins sat together to enjoy their breakfast.
"Hum teeno aj bazaar chalte hain, raat ko dholki ka function hai, aur mere pass suit ke matching jhumke bhi nahi hain", her cousin Aiza complained.
"Tumhara toh last minute tak kuch na kuch missing hota hai", Sana complained as she gently lifted the malai from the surface of her chai, and placed in on the opposite end on the handle.
They continue discussing about the events taking place in the next few days, and Laiba's hospital visit. She had to go to the hospital to register her ID so she could have her badge made, alongside her documents needed before she interacts with patients.
"Lekin mujhe toh aj hospital jaana tha?", she informs her cousins, catching Zeeshaan's attention, who's eyes and ears barely left her.
"Woh toh 12 bje jana hai na, hum 2 bje tk bazaar chalen jayenge, koi masla nahi", Aiza said, as she placed her empty plate on the side table before grabbing her teacup.
She hurriedly finished her food, and went to the bathroom. She made wuzu and prepared to pray. The instant noor on her face once done was something she always looked forward to seeing. She wore a simple black printed and netted kurti with the matching dupatta laying on the bed for now.
She was brushing her hair, when her cousins and sister came into the room. They sat down on the bed near her, and talked about random things. Zeeshan came inside to grab a towel as he had just made wuzu aswell, when his eyes fall on the simple yet elegant beauty infront of him.
Zain POV:
Her hair were styled in a side part, with most of it curled up into a messy bun, except that one darn strand. That one strand that always escaped the rest, falling effortlessly on the side of her cheek, making her side profile 10 times better. That one strand that her wanted to touch so badly everytime it moved slightly, either from the wind or her talking. That one strand of hair that she purposely never fixed as if she knew it was his weak point.
Chapter 2: First Encounter
'Lut gaye hum toh pehli mulaqaat main'
"Targets locked, kisi bhi masoom ki jaan nahi jaani chahiye", Zain said over his ear device, informing his team members to lock their locations.
The Akhtars', one of the most dangerous mafia gangs were about to attack Lahore's largest markets, and Zain's peole had to protect their community.
They had spread across the locations, 2 people in each market. Guns ready, but hidden from public, phones and energies charged.
Elsewhere, Laiba's house was filled with laughter. Her khala had made her favourite mooli paratha with some amazing chai. The cousins sat together to enjoy their breakfast.
"Hum teeno aj bazaar chalte hain, raat ko dholki ka function hai, aur mere pass suit ke matching jhumke bhi nahi hain", her cousin Aiza complained.
"Tumhara toh last minute tak kuch na kuch missing hota hai", Sana complained as she gently lifted the malai from the surface of her chai, and placed in on the opposite end on the handle.
They continue discussing about the events taking place in the next few days, and Laiba's hospital visit. She had to go to the hospital to register her ID so she could have her badge made, alongside her documents needed before she interacts with patients.
"Lekin mujhe toh aj hospital jaana tha?", she informs her cousins, catching Zeeshaan's attention, who's eyes and ears barely left her.
"Woh toh 12 bje jana hai na, hum 2 bje tk bazaar chalen jayenge, koi masla nahi", Aiza said, as she placed her empty plate on the side table before grabbing her teacup.
She hurriedly finished her food, and went to the bathroom. She made wuzu and prepared to pray. The instant noor on her face once done was something she always looked forward to seeing. She wore a simple black printed and netted kurti with the matching dupatta laying on the bed for now.
She was brushing her hair, when her cousins and sister came into the room. They sat down on the bed near her, and talked about random things. Zeeshan came inside to grab a towel as he had just made wuzu aswell, when his eyes fall on the simple yet elegant beauty infront of him.
Zain POV:
Her hair were styled in a side part, with most of it curled up into a messy bun, except that one darn strand. That one strand that always escaped the rest, falling effortlessly on the side of her cheek, making her side profile 10 times better. That one strand that her wanted to touch so badly everytime it moved slightly, either from the wind or her talking. That one strand of hair that she purposely never fixed as if she knew it was his weak point.
POV Ends
"Zeeshaan bhai, aise mat dekho, woh confuse ho jayegi", Sana, his sister teased, her eyes glancing from Laiba to him.
Laiba finally noticed he was staring at her, and grabbed her dupatta from the bed, placing it over her chest area, slightly uncomfortable.
Zeeshaan glared at Sana before grabbing the towel, which was not needed now, and went out of the room. She shifted her focus back on herself, and wore her wristwatch. She swiped a peachy pink creamy lipstick over her lips, and placed the dupatta over her head, pinning it in place.
Almost no makeup, a little bb cream and lipstick was all she applied, but her radiant and glowing skin, her natural blush and long thick lashes that made her eyes even more daring.
She went out of the room, and took her parents and khala's blessing before reciting aytal kursi and stepping out of the house. Zeeshaan, with his bike already started, patiently waiting for her to come out.
She smiled, thinking about her first day and sat behind him, placing her hand over his shouler. It was a halal touch, but she didn't feel attraction towards him.
He drove her to her first day. The ride was silent, she was confident. This was just like back in London, but a bit more restricted, which she didn't mind. "2 ghante main tumhe lene ajaunga", he says, but she replied
"Nahi, main bazar tak pohuch jaungi, ap bus Aiza, Sana aur Faiza ko chod dijiye ga", she said, but before leaving, asks for his hand.
He gives it to her, slightly confused. Laiba grips it in between her palms, and hopes for the day to go well. He just stares at her, trying to figure out weather he should adore her or think how all of a sudden she did that.
Laiba left his hand after a couple of seconds, and realises what she did. She apologises and walks towards the entrance.
Laiba stepped inside the hospital reception, the scent of antiseptic filling the air along with the low murmur of voices. To her left was the reception counter, behind which nurses in white awaited.
She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Today was her first official day — in her own country, Pakistan.
Approaching the counter politely, she said, "Assalamualaikum, mein apna uniform lene aur ID badge banwane ayi hoon." "Laiba Khan, 20", she continued
The nurse smiled warmly,
"Waalaikum assalam! Zaroor Laiba, yeh form bhar do, phir mein tumhara scrub laati hoon. Small chalega na"
Laiba nodded and quickly filled out the form and handed it back. Within moments, the nurse placed a neatly folded navy blue scrub set and an ID holder on the counter.
"Yeh lo. Tum outpatient department team ke sath kaam karogi. Koi bhi sawal ho tou pooch lena," the nurse added kindly. "Waise tum toh doctor bane wali ho na, tumhe training ki zarurat nahi hai", she continued, making her smile
Laiba nodded, thanked her, and walked toward the small changing room nearby. She washed her hands and wore the unifrom over her kurti carefully. Her badge secured right below the hospitals logo. The uniform felt crisp and new — like armor for a new chapter in her life.
Near the hospital entrance, Zain stood, coordinating with his team through his earpiece.
"Kisi bhi moment par kuch bhi ho sakta hai, ankhen aur kaam khule rakhna" he instructed firmly.
His team was scattered across Lahore's bazaars, hidden but alert.
Laiba recieved her next 3 patients files, and studies their diseases so she was a bit more familiar with it. She smiled when she read one of the previous nurses comments on the chart regarding a patient.
Accompanying her, was Shiza, a 21 year old nurse who had worked in that hospital for a few months now. She greeted her warmly. "Tum toh doctor ho London main", Shiza claimed as she read the CV
"Haan, wahan par aik shadi attend karne aur 3 patients ko assist karne aayi hoon. Sirf kuch time ke liye", Laiba responded, adjusting her dupatta.
"Kahan se ho?", She asked, to which Laiba replied "Australia", making Shiza's eyes widen. They continue talking, Shiza occasionally informing her about how to do things. She put her stethoscope around her neck before taking a selfie, without her face to show her parents later.
The 2 hours passed in a flick, and she was waiting outside the hospital for a rikshaw, to take her to the bazaar. Soon enough, she greeted Shiza goodbye and folded her uniform, placing it in her bag and stepping into the rickshaw.
She arrived at the bazaar 10 minutes after Zeeshaan dropped off Sana and Aiza. Faiza couldn't come as she had some assignment to do for school back in Australia.
Zeeshaan just watched as Laiba stepped out of the rickshaw, handing the money to him and fixing her dupatta before coming towards them.
"Chalo, enjoy karo, jab pick up karna ho toh mujhe call kar dena", Zeeshaan said, mainly glancing at Laiba. And he left.
The trio began to sift through rows of glittering jhumke, the little stall bursting with colour and the metallic chime of earrings brushing against each other. Laiba picked up a delicate silver pair with tiny pink beads, holding them up to her ear to check in the small mirror nailed to the wooden pole.
Just across the lane, Zain glanced around to see any unsual activity, him and his team in civilian clothes, blending in among the shoppers while monitoring the area. His focus was razor-sharp, scanning every face, every movement — until his eyes landed on her.
For a moment, everything else blurred out.
Her back was partly turned to him, framed by the bright stalls on either side. The afternoon light caught the soft black fabric of her dupatta, picking out the faint sheen of embroidery near her shoulders. Even in a simple outfit, she looked impossibly composed—elegant without any intention.
That one daring lock of hair escaped the neat pinning of her scarf, curling against her cheek. It shifted each time she moved, catching the golden light and drawing his attention back to her face again and again.
He watched the way her slender hand hovered over a display of silver earrings, fingers pausing on a delicate pair as if weighing something unspoken. He noticed the slight flush in her cheeks—an unpolished, honest pink that no powder could recreate.
And then she turned.
The movement was unhurried, graceful. She lowered her gaze for an instant, brushing the tip of her index finger across her forehead to move that rebellious strand aside, though it slipped right back where it had been.
As she turned fully, her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, catching sight of the elderly woman beside her who had dropped a cloth bag of vegetables.
Laiba bent down without a second thought, gathering the rolling potatoes one by one, steady and unbothered by the dust smudging the hem of her shalwar. A wisp of hair drifted across her lips. She exhaled, blowing it away with a small, unthinking gesture that made Zain's breath catch in his throat.
For a moment, he could only stand there, a silent witness to a softness he had never paused to see in this city: a kind of goodness so effortless it felt like a rebuke to every violent thing he had done.
When she straightened, her face turned slightly toward him. Their eyes met—hers clear and unaware, his fixed and unguarded.
She didn't linger in the moment. She glanced away, brushing the front of her dupatta smooth where it had creased. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, a delicate motion that seemed almost shy in its simplicity.
Zain looked down quickly, as if that single exchange had exposed something he didn't know how to name. His pulse was unsteady in his throat. The weight of the mission pressed back into his awareness, but for the first time, it felt strangely far away.
He swallowed hard, forcing his gaze to the edge of the market. But as he began to turn, he knew—somehow, with absolute certainty—that he would look for her again. Look at HER again.
He lifted his hand to press the earpiece closer.
"Haider, main outer lane pe hoon. Sab clear hai...," he murmured, though his voice had lost a fraction of its usual authority.
As if sensing someone's eyes on her, Laiba looked over her shoulder. Their eyes met — hers wide with mild surprise, his steady and unblinking.
Zain's heart stuttered. Koi itna bhi haseen na ho, ke pehli mulaqaat par banda barbaad ho jaye, he thought.
Aiza nudged Laiba's arm. "Laiba, yeh dekho, tumhare suit ke saath kitne ache lagenge!"
Laiba tore her gaze away and turned back to the earrings.
"Woh...haan, ache hain," she replied distractedly, her voice softer than usual.
Zain shifted his weight, trying to convince himself to look away. But something about her calm presence held him rooted to the spot. He watched as she tilted her head again, examining a pair of emerald green jhumke that matched the delicate border of her dupatta.
From his earpiece came Haider's voice, crackling low: "Boss, sab theek hai? Aapka signal fluctuate kar raha hai."
Zain cleared his throat. "Haan, sab theek hai. Main...main check kar raha hoon."
He didn't move.
Just then, Laiba smiled faintly at something Sana said, and tucked that stray strand of hair behind her ear. Zain felt his chest tighten.
Ya Allah...yeh larki to dil mein utar gayi hai, he thought helplessly.
Unaware of how intently she was being watched, Laiba finally picked out the silver-pink jhumke and held them out to the shopkeeper. "Bhaiya, yeh pack kar dein," she said gently.
Sana teased her under her breath, "Aaj kuch zyada hi khamosh ho gayi ho tum, Laiba."
Laiba looked down, flustered. "Bas...thodi thak gayi hoon," she murmured.
But in her heart, she couldn't shake the strange feeling of someone's gaze — and she didn't know why it made her heart beat this way.
Zain watched as the shopkeeper wrapped the earrings in crinkly brown paper, wishing he could hear her voice more clearly, wishing he could justify stepping closer.
Instead, he forced himself to look away, reminding himself there was work to do. But as he turned to scan the next stall, his chest felt lighter and heavier all at once.
TO BE CONTINUED...
POV Ends
"Zeeshaan bhai, aise mat dekho, woh confuse ho jayegi", Sana, his sister teased, her eyes glancing from Laiba to him.
Laiba finally noticed he was staring at her, and grabbed her dupatta from the bed, placing it over her chest area, slightly uncomfortable.
Zeeshaan glared at Sana before grabbing the towel, which was not needed now, and went out of the room. She shifted her focus back on herself, and wore her wristwatch. She swiped a peachy pink creamy lipstick over her lips, and placed the dupatta over her head, pinning it in place.
Almost no makeup, a little bb cream and lipstick was all she applied, but her radiant and glowing skin, her natural blush and long thick lashes that made her eyes even more daring.
She went out of the room, and took her parents and khala's blessing before reciting aytal kursi and stepping out of the house. Zeeshaan, with his bike already started, patiently waiting for her to come out.
She smiled, thinking about her first day and sat behind him, placing her hand over his shouler. It was a halal touch, but she didn't feel attraction towards him.
He drove her to her first day. The ride was silent, she was confident. This was just like back in London, but a bit more restricted, which she didn't mind. "2 ghante main tumhe lene ajaunga", he says, but she replied
"Nahi, main bazar tak pohuch jaungi, ap bus Aiza, Sana aur Faiza ko chod dijiye ga", she said, but before leaving, asks for his hand.
He gives it to her, slightly confused. Laiba grips it in between her palms, and hopes for the day to go well. He just stares at her, trying to figure out weather he should adore her or think how all of a sudden she did that.
Laiba left his hand after a couple of seconds, and realises what she did. She apologises and walks towards the entrance.
Laiba stepped inside the hospital reception, the scent of antiseptic filling the air along with the low murmur of voices. To her left was the reception counter, behind which nurses in white awaited.
She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Today was her first official day — in her own country, Pakistan.
Approaching the counter politely, she said, "Assalamualaikum, mein apna uniform lene aur ID badge banwane ayi hoon." "Laiba Khan, 20", she continued
The nurse smiled warmly,
"Waalaikum assalam! Zaroor Laiba, yeh form bhar do, phir mein tumhara scrub laati hoon. Small chalega na"
Laiba nodded and quickly filled out the form and handed it back. Within moments, the nurse placed a neatly folded navy blue scrub set and an ID holder on the counter.
"Yeh lo. Tum outpatient department team ke sath kaam karogi. Koi bhi sawal ho tou pooch lena," the nurse added kindly. "Waise tum toh doctor bane wali ho na, tumhe training ki zarurat nahi hai", she continued, making her smile
Laiba nodded, thanked her, and walked toward the small changing room nearby. She washed her hands and wore the unifrom over her kurti carefully. Her badge secured right below the hospitals logo. The uniform felt crisp and new — like armor for a new chapter in her life.
Near the hospital entrance, Zain stood, coordinating with his team through his earpiece.
"Kisi bhi moment par kuch bhi ho sakta hai, ankhen aur kaam khule rakhna" he instructed firmly.
His team was scattered across Lahore's bazaars, hidden but alert.
Laiba recieved her next 3 patients files, and studies their diseases so she was a bit more familiar with it. She smiled when she read one of the previous nurses comments on the chart regarding a patient.
Accompanying her, was Shiza, a 21 year old nurse who had worked in that hospital for a few months now. She greeted her warmly. "Tum toh doctor ho London main", Shiza claimed as she read the CV
"Haan, wahan par aik shadi attend karne aur 3 patients ko assist karne aayi hoon. Sirf kuch time ke liye", Laiba responded, adjusting her dupatta.
"Kahan se ho?", She asked, to which Laiba replied "Australia", making Shiza's eyes widen. They continue talking, Shiza occasionally informing her about how to do things. She put her stethoscope around her neck before taking a selfie, without her face to show her parents later.
The 2 hours passed in a flick, and she was waiting outside the hospital for a rikshaw, to take her to the bazaar. Soon enough, she greeted Shiza goodbye and folded her uniform, placing it in her bag and stepping into the rickshaw.
She arrived at the bazaar 10 minutes after Zeeshaan dropped off Sana and Aiza. Faiza couldn't come as she had some assignment to do for school back in Australia.
Zeeshaan just watched as Laiba stepped out of the rickshaw, handing the money to him and fixing her dupatta before coming towards them.
"Chalo, enjoy karo, jab pick up karna ho toh mujhe call kar dena", Zeeshaan said, mainly glancing at Laiba. And he left.
The trio began to sift through rows of glittering jhumke, the little stall bursting with colour and the metallic chime of earrings brushing against each other. Laiba picked up a delicate silver pair with tiny pink beads, holding them up to her ear to check in the small mirror nailed to the wooden pole.
Just across the lane, Zain glanced around to see any unsual activity, him and his team in civilian clothes, blending in among the shoppers while monitoring the area. His focus was razor-sharp, scanning every face, every movement — until his eyes landed on her.
For a moment, everything else blurred out.
Her back was partly turned to him, framed by the bright stalls on either side. The afternoon light caught the soft black fabric of her dupatta, picking out the faint sheen of embroidery near her shoulders. Even in a simple outfit, she looked impossibly composed—elegant without any intention.
That one daring lock of hair escaped the neat pinning of her scarf, curling against her cheek. It shifted each time she moved, catching the golden light and drawing his attention back to her face again and again.
He watched the way her slender hand hovered over a display of silver earrings, fingers pausing on a delicate pair as if weighing something unspoken. He noticed the slight flush in her cheeks—an unpolished, honest pink that no powder could recreate.
And then she turned.
The movement was unhurried, graceful. She lowered her gaze for an instant, brushing the tip of her index finger across her forehead to move that rebellious strand aside, though it slipped right back where it had been.
As she turned fully, her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, catching sight of the elderly woman beside her who had dropped a cloth bag of vegetables.
Laiba bent down without a second thought, gathering the rolling potatoes one by one, steady and unbothered by the dust smudging the hem of her shalwar. A wisp of hair drifted across her lips. She exhaled, blowing it away with a small, unthinking gesture that made Zain's breath catch in his throat.
For a moment, he could only stand there, a silent witness to a softness he had never paused to see in this city: a kind of goodness so effortless it felt like a rebuke to every violent thing he had done.
When she straightened, her face turned slightly toward him. Their eyes met—hers clear and unaware, his fixed and unguarded.
She didn't linger in the moment. She glanced away, brushing the front of her dupatta smooth where it had creased. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, a delicate motion that seemed almost shy in its simplicity.
Zain looked down quickly, as if that single exchange had exposed something he didn't know how to name. His pulse was unsteady in his throat. The weight of the mission pressed back into his awareness, but for the first time, it felt strangely far away.
He swallowed hard, forcing his gaze to the edge of the market. But as he began to turn, he knew—somehow, with absolute certainty—that he would look for her again. Look at HER again.
He lifted his hand to press the earpiece closer.
"Haider, main outer lane pe hoon. Sab clear hai...," he murmured, though his voice had lost a fraction of its usual authority.
As if sensing someone's eyes on her, Laiba looked over her shoulder. Their eyes met — hers wide with mild surprise, his steady and unblinking.
Zain's heart stuttered. Koi itna bhi haseen na ho, ke pehli mulaqaat par banda barbaad ho jaye, he thought.
Aiza nudged Laiba's arm. "Laiba, yeh dekho, tumhare suit ke saath kitne ache lagenge!"
Laiba tore her gaze away and turned back to the earrings.
"Woh...haan, ache hain," she replied distractedly, her voice softer than usual.
Zain shifted his weight, trying to convince himself to look away. But something about her calm presence held him rooted to the spot. He watched as she tilted her head again, examining a pair of emerald green jhumke that matched the delicate border of her dupatta.
From his earpiece came Haider's voice, crackling low: "Boss, sab theek hai? Aapka signal fluctuate kar raha hai."
Zain cleared his throat. "Haan, sab theek hai. Main...main check kar raha hoon."
He didn't move.
Just then, Laiba smiled faintly at something Sana said, and tucked that stray strand of hair behind her ear. Zain felt his chest tighten.
Ya Allah...yeh larki to dil mein utar gayi hai, he thought helplessly.
Unaware of how intently she was being watched, Laiba finally picked out the silver-pink jhumke and held them out to the shopkeeper. "Bhaiya, yeh pack kar dein," she said gently.
Sana teased her under her breath, "Aaj kuch zyada hi khamosh ho gayi ho tum, Laiba."
Laiba looked down, flustered. "Bas...thodi thak gayi hoon," she murmured.
But in her heart, she couldn't shake the strange feeling of someone's gaze — and she didn't know why it made her heart beat this way.
Zain watched as the shopkeeper wrapped the earrings in crinkly brown paper, wishing he could hear her voice more clearly, wishing he could justify stepping closer.
Instead, he forced himself to look away, reminding himself there was work to do. But as he turned to scan the next stall, his chest felt lighter and heavier all at once.
TO BE CONTINUED...