preference delights

"A Question Of Legacy"

"Okay… maybe I wasn’t," she admitted quickly, knowing her excuse was ridiculous. "I just thought you’d sleep a little longer. Aftar all you saved us." she added, hoping to cover up the fact that she had been stealing glances at him.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across Salaar’s face. "Hmm… I see." He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Well, thank you for being so nice to me."

His voice dropped into a deep, velvety tone, and her heart hammered against her ribs.

Before she could respond, a loud clearing of a throat shattered the moment.

"Ahem."

Startled, both Zarmeena and Salaar turned, their gazes snapping to the figure standing at the doorway.

"Oh, Dad…" Salaar muttered, suddenly nervous.

"Yes, me," Faizan said dryly, arms crossed over his chest. "Did you two really think you were the only ones in this world?" His sarcasm was razor-sharp, and he made no effort to hide his amusement at their predicament.

"Dad," Salaar groaned, shooting him a warning glare.

"What? Just because she’s your wife doesn’t mean she only belongs to you," Faizan quipped, picking up his favorite old argument.

Salaar, not one to back down, smirked and shot back, "Actually, Dad, it does mean exactly that."

Before Faizan could retort, Salaar’s phone buzzed, breaking the tension.

But Zarmeena’s heart was still racing.

"Yes, Mr. Raffi… can you please hold for a second?" Salaar excused himself.

"Dad, can you stay with Zarmeena? I need to take this call."

Faizan nodded, but his ears were glued to the conversation.

"Yes, Mr. Raffi, our proposal is ready… Yes, today… Mr. Junaid—"

Faizan listened intently until Salaar's voice faded as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Taking the opportunity, Faizan quickly stepped forward and took Zarmeena’s hand in his own.

"Zarmeena, I know this isn’t the right time, but I desperately need something from you," he said, wasting no time, fearing Salaar would return any moment.

"Yes, Dad?" Zarmeena responded.

"Zarmeena, maybe you don’t know this, but we called Salaar back from Cambridge before he could complete his degree," Faizan revealed.

"Due to your  health issues, I think..." Zarmeena retorted.

Everyone on campus knew that Salaar hadn’t completed his degree because of his father's health.

"Well, that isn’t the real reason..." Now, Zarmeena was taken by curiosity.

"My father started this company when we were abroad. He put his whole life into it. I remember seeing him carrying heavy cans on his shoulders, helping his staff. I never thought I’d be the one heading this company because everyone believed my father would entrust that responsibility to my elder brother. But things turned out differently. He chose me because he saw more potential in me. My brother supported his decision."

"After my father’s death, I once asked my brother why he had accepted it so easily. His response stunned me, he told me that choosing me as the head had always been our father’s intention. He had been preparing my brother for this decision for years."

Zarmeena was beginning to understand, but the picture still wasn’t entirely clear.

"Just like that, I always envisioned Salaar as the CEO of Malik Industrial Estate. Taimur knew this," Faizan paused for a moment. "I waited for him for so long… but now, all of a sudden, he has decided to start his own venture, separate from the Malik name."

Faizan finished speaking, his disappointment evident.

"But Dad, don’t you think it’s his right to live his life according to his own choices? It would be unfair to stop him from doing what he truly wants," Zarmeena reasoned.

"Look, Zarmeena, I desperately need Salaar in our company as CEO. Otherwise, everything will collapse. Malik Industrial Estate will become nothing more than a tale of the past. And I cannot, will not, let that happen. Not in a thousand years. Please, Zarmeena, help me bring Salaar back."

"Okay, Dad… but how? No one can force him unless he agrees to it himself," she replied hesitantly, still unsure.

"For that, I have a plan," Faizan said, his eyes gleaming with hope.

As Salaar entered the room, he found the two of them completely engrossed in conversation. Sensing his presence, they instantly fell silent, turning rigid like statues.

"Why do you both suddenly look like spies?" Salaar asked, puzzled.

"And let me remind you, Zarmeena Khan, you’re in a hospital bed. Just an hour ago, you were unconscious. Don’t you dare think about pulling any more reckless stunts," he scolded her, though he knew it was a futile warning.

"And you, Mr. Faizan Malik, you too," he added.

Faizan responded with a sheepish smile.

Salaar suddenly felt like the parent of two extremely mischievous children.