One of the best perks of living in a village is that no one cares about your past. No one interrogates you. No one bugs you. Everyone keeps to themselves. Enjoys each other's happiness together and empathizes with the loss together as well.

And what else could be better for Safa Hayat? A twenty-three year old nomad who suddenly appeared in Neelam Valley out of thin air, one day, and was taken in as a family member by the staff of the small school that was being run in this serene district.

She was happy to be a part of this wholesome world where everyone loved her, completely unbeknownst to the remnants of her past and the beast that laid with in. Or was it a beast at all?

When she moved here one month ago, she had planned on living the rest of her life in peace. Without any chaos. Any mayhem, whatsoever. But you know how they say, ""

Black coffee. The highlight of her morning, day, afternoon, evening, night. In short, her life, was tucked in her hand as she entered the school's premises, her white dupatta neatly set on her head, and cashmere draped around her shoulders. But today, something was different. The children were happier than they'd usually be.

"What's with them today?" Safa asked Asmara, her colleague, as she stood beside her in the corner of the playground.

"The owner of the school is finally back from his trip to USA and is coming tomorrow." Asmara grinned as she pushed the strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Is that how much they like him?" She asked with a mixture of astonishment and inspiration, her brown eyes replete with respect.

"Love! They love him. Before him, these kids only had empty dreams that they knew would never come true. But then, Azlan Shehryar came and built the conduit for them so they could finally change their dreams to goals. He's their Messiah! (Savior)" Her voice held admiration which tugged at Safa's heart. Since the moment she had arrived at this village, all she would hear were prayers and love for this man, increasing her desire to meet him more.

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This balance had to finish today, hadn't it? Who do I call, anyway? This company's a fraud. Never there for me when I need it and then has the audacity to make the singer/customer say 'you're the one.' No, ass-head, you're definitely not the one.

Muttering to herself, she was strolling towards the nearby shop for easy load. Her small thermos filled with coffee in her hand. Obviously!

"Here!" The shopkeeper extended his small old phone towards her while she arched an eyebrow in return, perplexed.

"Insert your number, baji. (sister)"

"And how am I supposed to know that?" She asked with a plastic smile.

"The fact that it's your number and not mine." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Which makes more sense as I never call myself," she said as she placed her arms on the cold-as-ice counter-top. The early morning breeze wasn't at all cooperative.

The shopkeeper sighed and asked her to either input the number or stop wasting his time.

"Alright, wait. Lemme call my friend and ask." She said as she dialed Asmara's number and the shop-keeper peered at her as if he doubted her sanity.

"What?" She questioned on noticing.

"You don't have balance, remember?" He poked his temple with his forefinger.

Bravo, Safa! Keep making a fool of yourself everywhere you go.

"I... know," she squared her shoulders as she commenced with a defensive tone. "which is exactly why I was checking the time to see if she'd be awake at this hour so I can go and ask her. In person." She added the last two words with a bit of a stress to not sound dumb and it only heightened his smirk some more, making her want to punch him.

"So what does that wrist watch do, hun?" He sneered, eying the brown-strapped watch wrapped around her slender olive wrist.

"It doesn't work, alright? Now stop interrogating," she retorted as she turned around with an abrupt jerk and bumped into a hard wall.

And SPLASH!

How the hell did the wall suddenly appear? Am I in Hogwarts?

She craned her head up in excitement and her eyes caught a creas-less coffee stained white crisp shirt. Definitely not Hogwarts.

She looked up at the guy whose jaws were stiffened under the carpet of his black beard as he eyed his shirt and then her. The adrenaline rushed from her caffeinated body as she made a 'humph' sound under his piercing gaze, his nostrils flaring.

"I... I'm so sorry," she barely stammered and, then, as if a brilliant life-saving idea had just suddenly struck her mind, pulled the tissue out of her wallet and extended towards him. "Here!" She scarcely managed a smile and furrowed her brows at his irresponsiveness.

"Oh, of course. A single tissue obviously can't clean that. Is there anything else I can do? Anything? Anything at all!" She rambled, feeling uncomfortable under his disdain gaze.

Jeez! Relax, miser. It's not like that's the only shirt you own guessing from the fact that that sleek black car is yours.

"Yes, there is." He finally spoke.

Oooh! So the miser speaks.

"Anything!" She repeated with assurance as she mulled over the amount of coffee wasted on his shirt.

Within a second, he snatched the cup from her hand and threw the rest of the coffee on her dress.

"Now we're even."

Her mouth hanged open as she registered what had just happened and was about to say something when decided otherwise.

It's all cool. You have tons of coffee beans at home to make another cup. This blasphemous miser doesn't deserve to be taught a lecture at the blasphemy he just committed.

Plucking the cup back from his hand, she turned around and had taken just a few steps when he called after her.

"And just so you know, one's own phone number is in the 'about phone' option. Also, if you ever decide to sell that melon inside your head, ring me up. I can sell that for you. You'll make a good fortune out of it since it's never been used."

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