BEHIND THE HEADLINES AND FIELDS

The venue was dazzling.

Golden chandeliers shimmered above Haider as he stepped into the grand charity event, dressed in a sharp crimson suit that had taken a whole battalion of stylists to approve. The velvet red contrasted against his warm skin tone, giving him the sort of effortless grace magazines tried (and failed) to replicate in editorials.

But none of that mattered.

His eyes scanned the crowd like a radar, searching, hoping.

To catch a sight of her maybe she would be holding her mic a notepad in other hand he would politely smile at her and she will probably roll her eyes

She wasn’t there.

No trace of the girl who’d unknowingly unraveled his tightly wound heart with a cup of karak chai, three arguments, and one accidental Quran recitation. He sighed and pressed his lips together, expression unreadable as he made his way to the front stage where a handful of other chief guests were already seated.

Among them, of course, was Mia Lauren.

Hollywood's glammed-up sweetheart, a walking PR dream, and possibly the only person on Earth who didn’t know how uninterested Haider Kazi was in her existence.

“Haider!” Mia flashed her perfectly straight teeth as he took the seat beside her. “Isn’t this just divine?”

Haider nodded once. “Sure.”

“You look amazing. Love the red. It’s bold. Dangerous.”

“It’s a suit.”

She laughed, trying to play off the awkwardness. “Still your charming self.”

He wanted to say something dry, but the host walked up to the mic, introducing the panel, and Haider silently thanked the heavens for the interruption. As speeches began, his thoughts wandered, circling back to Anaya. Her absence shouldn’t have hit him like a sucker punch, but here he was.

When it was his turn, Haider rose and approached the podium.

“Charity,” he began, his deep voice commanding the attention of even the most distracted guests, “is not about giving what you have extra. It’s about sharing what you love.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said: ‘Charity does not decrease wealth.’ And in giving, we don’t just serve others—we serve ourselves. We find purpose. We find grounding. And above all, we find humanity.”

The applause was genuine, heartfelt.

Far away in her apartment, Anaya had paused her scroll and was now watching him speak on TV. Her knees were pulled to her chest, hoodie sleeves pulled over her fingers, eyes wide.

“Wow,” she whispered to no one.

And then immediately rolled her eyes at herself.

“Anaya, romance novels parhna kum kar day. Delulu hoti ja rahi hai,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Two seconds later, she switched the channel.

To a romcom.

Of course.

Back at the venue, things had turned chaotic.

As expected, the moment the speeches ended, a flood of reporters swarmed the stage. Cameras flashed. Microphones were shoved forward. And every other question was about Haider’s “mysterious personal life.”

“Are the rumors true?” “Mia Laurenfind you her dream co-star what are your thought on it?” “What do you look for in a partner?”

Haider forced a tight smile before politely excusing himself.

He weaved through the crowd, seeking refuge in the far-off bar section, where the noise dimmed slightly. He ordered a cocktail—non-alcoholic, of course. Lemon, mint, soda. Something to clear his head.

He barely had time to take a sip before a familiar perfume wafted beside him.

“That looks refreshing,” Mia purred, sliding onto the seat next to him, her golden gown glittering under the lights.

“It is,” he said flatly.

She ordered a bottle of wine and didn’t wait long before downing half her glass. Haider tried to ignore it, sipping his drink, trying not to breathe in the scent of alcohol

Five minutes passed.

Too long.

He stood up.

But just as he did, Mia reached out and gripped his bicep. “Leaving already?” she asked with a tilt of her

“I should get going,” he muttered, already halfway off the barstool.

But Mia stood up too quickly, her heel catching on the carpet. She lost balance.

Without thinking, Haider caught her by the waist—reflex, nothing more.

For a beat, they stood frozen.

Then he stepped back like he’d touched fire.

“No worries,” he said briskly, not meeting her eyes.

And just like that, he left.

No goodbye. No glances back.

Straight out of the ballroom, into his car, and home—where peace lived, or so he hoped.

The elevator dinged softly on his floor.

Haider walked out, shoulders tense. He just wanted to collapse onto his couch, maybe pray, maybe sleep, maybe pretend the night hadn’t been as exhausting as it was.

And then he saw her.

Anaya.

Kneeling in the hallway, giggling softly as she hand-fed a very fat cat.

He blinked. “You?”

She looked up, clearly amused. “It’s Nugget. He was hungry.”

“You named him after food?”

“He responds to it.”

Haider crossed his arms. “He also looks like he eats three times a day and has a mortgage.”

Anaya laughed. “Well, unlike you, Nugget doesn’t ghost people for a week and show up looking like a GQ model.”

Haider smirked, kneeling beside her. “Touché.”

They both watched Nugget, who was now licking his paw with royal disinterest.

“I was going to confess something,” Haider said, his voice softer now.

Anaya looked at him, surprised. “Confess?”

Before he could say another word, her phone buzzed.

She glanced down. “Work,” she sighed. “Always at the worst time.”

She stood up, brushing her knees.

“Goodnight, Haider.”

“Goodnight, Anaya.”

She disappeared into her apartment.

Haider stared at the closed door for a moment, then sighed and walked into his own.

Nugget meowed once, unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Haider muttered. “I’m working on it.”

And with that, he collapsed onto his couch, suit and all, and drifted off into sleep, unaware that the night—and what came after—was only just beginning.

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Haider needs to be careful
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