15 days later.

Mohsin Baig.

I groan in annoyance, folding and throwing another piece of paper that was faxed to me, not one bit surprised by the content. I get up from my chair, picking a cup from the table and holding it beneath the coffee machine, impatiently. I need some caffeine in my body lest my head will split into two.

This is not the first time I am working for eighteen hours straight but it sure seems like it, because of the killing headache and muscle cramp I am feeling. For a second or two, everything spins and I am not even drunk today. It has become a routine now, from the last two haunting weeks.

Heartbreak is like a snake bite. At first, you wouldn't know you are it's prey or how venomous it is. When it starts working, you realise you are about to die. It comes with a disclaimer; no escape. You either die, or die.

I chuckle sarcastically, almost sounding lunatic for my own self. The man who didn't crack up once before a stand-up comedian is laughing to himself for no particular reason. Ishq kahan se kahan le aaya.

After an inner battle for about two minutes, I finally give up once again and crouch down to pick up the crumpled paper that I had arrogantly thrown as if touching it for the last time. Oh, who am I kidding.

I place the cup of steaming coffee aside, trying to flatten the wrinkled paper as I reread the cursive words written on it.

Ham hain mushtaq aur wo bezaar,

Ham hain mushtaq aur wo bezaar

Ya ilahi akhir ye maanjra kya hai."

~Mahira.

I chuckle again, this time for a reason. Ghalib ki itni mashoor shayari uthakar credits khudko deti hai, pagli.

I sit back on my chair, opening the drawer where another half a dozen of of such crumpled papers are present in an order. I picked yesterday's paper, staring at it like a cryptic message to be decoded. I have cracked cases with the biggest organised crime branches yet I am a dimwit when it comes to understanding this complex woman.

~Hira.

"Jaan tum par nisaar karti hun.

Jaan tum par nisaar karti hun,

~M.M.B

What does she want now? Hasn't she already done enough damage. She made it clear what she thinks of me. She wanted nothing to do with me anymore and left that very day. Then for a whole damn week there was no contact from her end, it was as if she vanished in thin air. The short span of time that she spent at my home felt like a dream if it wasn't for her clothes in my closet, her accessories in my locker, her shampoo in the bathroom and her wicked makeup kit on my dressing table.

Why did she leave those things behind? She should have taken them with her, but no! Mahira Altaf Khan is hell bent on making my life miserable. My own room has been haunting me like a horror movie.

And to add fuel to the fire, she has been pestering me through my office for the last week, faxing cryptic shayaris that don't mean shit.

I grab the intercom pressing it's button, the next minute a peon knocks the door.

"Come in! Martin, I need you to shut this fax machine." I command going back to the papers at hand.

He stands there for a minute or two, then speaks in a confused voice, "Did you mean I should get it repaired Sir? If so, I will get to work asap."

I sigh, irritated with him, with myself and the whole freaking world.

"The fax machine is working perfectly fine, Martin. Which is precisely the problem. I need to you to stop it's functioning, meaning I shouldn't recieve any fax. Got it?" He nods sceptically moving toward the machine stand. I don't miss his weird glance my way too.

Just great, even people at my workplace are thinking I am losing my marbles, which in all honesty I have already lost.

I exhale an sigh of annoyance, once again distracted by the papers that I unconsciously keep reading hundreds of times in a day. I have barely managed to work despite of being seated here for eighteen hours.

Guess what, I am going to forget about Mahira Khan, and it would be a piece of cake. No Mahira. No shayari. No red lipstick lying on the vanity table. No more coconut scented shampoo. No more maroon lingerie from the drawer.

I almost stopped breathing when I discovered a tiny piece of velvet maroon lingerie while opening her side of the drawer in haste to find my tie. Not that I was sleeping peacefully before, but the visuals gave me two sleepless nights, literally and metaphorically.

Fuck it. I need some alcohol in my system if I am going to spend the rest of the time moping. Before I could get up to remove a bottle, my door barged open revealing the one man I wished not to see.

I stand up, greeting him as he walks into the room inspecting it like a crime scene. Then his eyes fall on me, he sizes me up like he is about to take me into a physical fight. Good gracious, that's the last thing I can handle right now.

"How can I help you, sir?" He doesn't reply sitting on the chair that I had previously occupied and I keep standing out of respect.

"Take a seat, Baig. You and I have a lot to talk about, this is going to take a while." He says, staring down the crumpled cup of coffee which I just now realized I had folded.

I reluctantly take a seat, knowing I am either going to be terminated or receiving a transfer order. The only thing he expected from me was to keep his daughter happy and safe, and I failed so classically at that.

"So, what makes you think you can work beyond the office hours and not be questioned about it? At this rate, you might develop a chronic disease and who will face the consequences? Your family, your profession and your own reputation. The government won't be least bit affected by losing you, if not you then there will be another officer here tomorrow. Knowing all of this, what are you trying to prove by putting your health in line?" His aura screams power and rage right now, had I not been guilty of letting him down, I would have answered him upfront.

"No offence Sir, but may I know who is asking these questions to me right now? Director Khan or my father in law?" I ask trying to buy some time.

"Neither. You are facing your Mamu right now, the same man whom you haven't even addressed uncle in years."

I am at a loss of words before him, as usual. His wisdom amazes me everyday. I try to formulate words in my mind, but everything comes to a dramatic stop when her words ring again.

"Stop being foolish Mohsin."

"You are still a kid."

"This is not a real marriage."

"I only ever loved Amir."

Amir. I curse the man who invented this name.

"Why are you doing this to yourself Mohsin? Hira won't tell me anything as well. This is not how marriages work. You need to sit down and talk and negotiate. Fight but fix it. Don't run away."

That's the problem, Sir. Your daughter refuses to think of this as a normal marriage. Forget about fixing shit.

I nod, unable to do anything else. This thing between us is over. He will find out eventually. Let's give the old man some peace of mind atleast now.

"Don't just nod and give me some solid answer. This is not you..."

A shrill noise rings in the air, it's his phone. He removes the cell from his pocket, receiving the call immediately.

"Yes Fatima. What? What's wrong jaan? Stop crying..." I stand up immediately from my seat, why is mami crying?

What if... What if something happened to her?

I walk around the table, standing beside him as he tries to calm her down.

"Now tell me, what's wrong?.... Hira?.... What? Okay. Where are you both now?.... Okay. Stay there, I am coming." The call disconnects and he presses another number.

"Sir, what happened? Is everything okay with mami?" I question impatiently. He doesn't answer at first, I doubt if he even heard me.

"Sir..."

"Oh shut up Mohsin! It's all because of you. My daughter fainted in the middle of the road. I need to get to her fast, stop annoying me. Continue with your damn work." With that he storms out of my office, speaking to someone.