“Hey, what if we write a novel together and sell it at the festival?” Zara was one to proposed this.

Ayesha paused, considering the idea. “We’ve only got a month. And how would we even get it published?”

“I didn’t mean a whole book. What about a booklet?” Zara’s enthusiasm didn’t waver.

“A booklet? That’s actually doable,”

Zara shifted gears, curious. “And what about your novel-in-progress?"

“I’ve kind of stalled with the characters.”

“You were slow even then. I had a feeling it might never see the light of day.” Zara couldn't be more direct in giving response.

Ayesha frowned, taken aback. “Why are you so blunt?”

“I’m just a mirror,”

“Well, I'd shatter that mirror into a million pieces,” Ayesha replied sharply.

“And in every shard, you’d find more truths about yourself. I can’t lie. You used to write two pages a day when you already knew what happens next. Wasn’t it something like ‘steady wins the race’?” Zara recalled.

“Yeah, but that philosophy led to procrastination,” Ayesha admitted. “I let the routine become a cage rather than a guide.”

“Don’t worry. Maybe next time, you’ll approach it differently when you start writing again. Creativity has no limits; it ebbs and flows like the wind. You can never truly own it, but you can always welcome it when it arrives.”

As Ayesha looked out the window, she was caught by her thoughts. Initially, she had been full of enthusiasm for her novel, certain of how the story would unfold and eager to complete it. She had started with a slow but deliberate pace, believing it was the right approach. But what began as a well-intentioned plan turned into procrastination. Days turned into weeks, and she barely touched her manuscript. Occasionally, she would open her laptop and write a few pages, only to set it aside for long periods before returning. Her novel, once a vibrant deal, had become an afterthought, overshadowed by her own hesitation and inaction. Now, faced with a stalled plot and tangled characters, she felt as though she was navigating a foggy abyss. She only remembered it whenever Zara remind her, she had only told her about this and had promised Zara to let her read it first after its completion. Zara’s words resonated deeply. It was true that the reflection in the mirror might not always be flattering, but it was an opportunity to confront and understand her own limitations. Perhaps it was time to embrace the disarray, to allow the process of creation to be both challenging and enlightening.

Ayesha took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of resolve. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I need to accept the chaos and find inspiration in the struggle itself.”

“That’s the spirit. It’s about learning to rise each time, you know, resetting, that what we call it. ”

As they continued their conversation, Ayesha realized that the path to her novel’s completion might be winding and uncertain, but she was ready to face it with a fresh perspective for the time being.

“Maybe,” Ayesha sighed. “So, about the booklet...”

“What booklet? Oh, that was just an idea. You think about it. I’ll jot down some notes,” Zara said, opening her notepad. “And on top of that should be 'Mughlai Chat'!” Zara blurted out, barely able to contain her laughter.

"You're going to kill us with your jokes someday. Remember that meme you sent yesterday? You've got that knack for cracking yourself up."

“Hey, I'm my own best audience. Can't help it” her laughter took on a slightly strange tone.

Meanwhile, in the classroom, the professor announced, "The deadline for submitting your groups is Monday. You have three days to think. Make groups of three. By Wednesday, share your ideas with me to avoid duplications in stalls."

"A group of three?" Zara and Ayesha exchanged a glance and echoed simultaneously.

Moments later, they found themselves standing at the teacher's desk. "Sir, could we form a pair instead of a group of three? Ayesha and I prefer to submit our names separately,"

The professor peered at them over his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. "The rules apply to everyone, and three students per group is the requirement for your class size."

"Sir, we've been discussing this for a while and don't see the need for a third member. Just the two of us can handle it," Zara insisted.

The professor sighed, clearly unmoved. "Kindly form a group of three, find another student, and give me the names by Monday. No 'ifs' or 'buts'."

Ayesha asked , "Could you suggest someone to join us? Finding a third member will be a challenge."

At that moment, Abdul Hadi entered the classroom. "May I come in?"

All three turned to look at him, considering their options.

“Why do we always have to rope him in?” Ayesha sighed after the class.

“Maybe that's just your destiny calling for you”

“Your destiny? Why not ours? You are too included.” Ayesha got annoyed whenever Zara teased her.

“I'm not into love triangles, and he's not my cup of coffee.” Zara said with a smirk, teasing Ayesha. But she noticed Ayesha was really not into it, “Why so serious, Ayesha? You're taking my jokes a tad too personally”

“Talk more nonsense, Zara, and my patience will run out faster than ever for my threshold for blood boiling has increased after hearing these jokes.” Ayesha warned, cutting her off.

“Alright, alright, let's move on from the comedy hour” she adopted a more serious tone considering her annoyance. “Well, why don't we just bring him into our group?”

“But what if he's already teamed up or has his own plans?” Ayesha was hesitant.

“Don't worry, leave it to me. I'll ask him, and you just come along, no big deal if he says no, we can’t just assume.” Zara assured her confidently.

“I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“I'll handle it. Don't worry, we'll either make this group legendary or crash and burn”

“I hope it's the former” Ayesha murmured, half to herself. “What if it turns out to be a disaster?”

“I've never been part of a disastrous group, so trust me on this,” Zara said. “Now my turn for the questions round, why do we always complicate things?” Zara groaned, looking at Ayesha with a mix of amusement and frustration.

“Maybe complication is our middle name” Ayesha replied.

"Yours, definitely, I am good, not taking, oops”

After a while, at one of the university corridors, it could be seen that Abdul Hadi was interrupted by his two class fellows.

“Abdul Hadi, have you sorted out your team? Fatima and I need a third member. Want to join us?” Fareeha's voice was hopeful, almost eager.

“No, thanks. Already in a group.” Abdul Hadi replied simply, started to move away as if wanted a escape as soon as possible.

“Wait, who did you team up with?” Fareeha intercepted with curiosity lighting up her eyes.

“Zara and Ayesha,”

Fareeha was momentarily stunned. “Okay...” she muttered.

As soon as he walked away, Fareeha turned to Fatima, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Seriously? Zara and Ayesha? How did that happen?”

“My inner instincts are telling me that he has a thing for Zara.”

She had just bluffed, she knew how much Fareeha talked about Abdul Hadi daily. It was obvious that She liked him. For Fatima, it was her personal entertainment moment.

“You think so?” Fareeha tried to sound casual, but there was a hint of unease in her voice.

“Yes. Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Whatever” Fareeha huffed, but her voice was lacking conviction. Although Fareeha didn’t say another word, Fatima could sense the jealousy simmering in her eyes.

In a flashback, as soon as Abdul Hadi entered the class, he saw Zara and Ayesha standing near Professor Sher Shah, who called him over immediately.

“Abdul Hadi, have you made your group?” Professor inquired.

“No sir, not yet.”

“Okay, well and good. These two classmates of yours are searching for a third member. You shall join them.”

Although Abdul Hadi had already decided not to participate in any of the activities, planning to get a sick leave and avoid joining the group. The marks meant nothing to him; he had already planned to secure his grades through tests and exams. But something changed when he saw Ayesha standing there that he didn’t know why. There was something about her that set her apart from the rest of the class. Their last encounter made her feel more familiar to him, and his subconscious was encouraging him to be part of the group. Needing some time to think, he told Professor that he would consider it. When Fareeha later offered him a spot in her group, he instinctively said that he had already made a group with Zara and Ayesha. For Ayesha, he had started to have a soft corner and to him, Zara seemed like a very talkative girl. Wherever he saw her, she was always chatting away. He didn't yet realize that her straightforwardness would soon become a reason for his growing dislike. Thus he opted to be a part of the group. Despite his reluctance, there was a new feeling stirring inside him. It was unfamiliar and confusing, but one thing was certain—it wasn't love. Not yet, at least.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Hey, what happened with that proposal?” Zara asked starting her favourite and concerned topic again.

“I have no idea. No one’s mentioned it to me since then,”

“So, what do you think?” Zara pressed, her eyes were twinkling with intrigue.

“I’m ready for whatever happens,”

“Sounds like you’re interested too,”

“Well, you could say that. To be honest, doctors are always decent, and since he lived abroad, I think he’d have a broad mind,”

“You think? You know doctors can be difficult to handle. Always working, constantly at the hospital, no social life... are you okay with that? Have you thought about it?” Zara asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I like it that way. All I want is a decent person who understands me,” Ayesha responded.

“His mind will always be divided,” Zara pointed out.

“Are you against this proposal?”

“Yes… No, I mean, no,” Zara stammered.

“Yes?” Ayesha pressed, narrowing her eyes.

“No, really, no,” Zara insisted. Although she was known for being straightforward, she felt unusually conflicted. She had decided to tell Ayesha her situation, but she couldn’t find the right moment or words.

“Well, I think this proposal is just perfect, and my parents probably won’t have a reason to say no.”

“I just hope you get what you deserve.” Zara said sincerely.

Sher Chachu was bustling around the kitchen, humming a lively tune as he worked. Abdul Hadi wandered in, his mission clear: to quench his thirst and maybe, just maybe, snag a sneak peek at what was cooking.

"Guess what’s on the menu?"

“Chicken Biryani?” Abdul Hadi guessed, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Bingo! Chicken biryani with raita. And to make it a truly happy meal, I’ll whip up some sheer khurma too,” Sher Chachu announced, clearly pleased with himself.

“You know you’re diabetic; you can’t have the sweet stuff. You can only make it for me,”

“You’ve got no shame, boy. How many times have I told you to join me while I cook? But no, you never do. All you do is show up for the food,” Sher Chachu scolded, waving a wooden spoon in the air.

“Chachu, I can’t do womanly jobs,” Abdul Hadi protested, leaning against the counter, trying to look nonchalant.

“Am I a woman to you?” Sher Chachu shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but you can do anything. I can never be like you; I can’t do all these things,” Abdul Hadi replied.

“What will happen when I’m gone? You don’t know how to cook. You won’t get married, so there won’t be a wife to take care of you,”

“Stop blackmailing me. You know I’m not the kind of person who falls for emotional manipulation,” Abdul Hadi retorted, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“As if you’ve done a master’s in anthropology,” Sher Chachu muttered under his breath.

“I don’t know about humans, but I know you very well,” Abdul Hadi said with simplicity.

“So, now I’m not human to you?” Sher Chachu shot back, feigning offense.

Abdul Hadi responded with his usual tactic: a non-mischievous, silent smile.

“Alright, come on, taste this and tell me how it is,” Sher Chachu said, holding out a spoonful of biryani.

Abdul Hadi tasted it and his face lit up. “It’s just perfect.” He quickly grabbed a plate from the rack and started to heap it with biryani.

“We’ll eat together. The raita isn’t ready yet, and neither is the sheer khurma. You can’t have it all now,” Sher Chachu protested, trying to snatch the plate back.

Hadi, laughing, fought for the spoon and managed to fill his plate. “Who says no? I’m just having my first plate because I’m very hungry and can’t wait. By the time you finish the side dishes, I’ll be ready for another round.” He grabbed a smaller spoon and hurried out of the kitchen with his plate.

Sher Chachu could only watch as Abdul Hadi made his hasty exit, “That boy will be the death of me,” he murmured, smiling to himself. He had noticed a change in Abdul Hadi’s behavior. For the first time in years, Abdul Hadi seemed a bit more lively, his mood noticeably lighter. It was a rare sight—seeing him like this, even just for a day. No matter what the reason, he was glad to witness this rare glimpse of cheerfulness in Abdul Hadi.

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“Not yet, Ami. I’ll let you all know when I do,” Zara replied, trying to keep her frustration in check. The constant badgering had clearly begun to grate on Zara's nerves.

“Why are you taking so long? Just tell her,” her mother insisted.

“Ami, it’s not as easy as it seems. Even though she’s my friend, I want to be very careful. I don’t want to risk spoiling our friendship,” Zara tried to explain concerns for delaying and being hesitant.

“You’ve been friends for years. Even if she says no, it shouldn’t affect your friendship,”

“I might not take it seriously, but what if she does?” her anxiety was palpable.

“You know her best. You can guess how she’ll react,”

“Actually, you’re right. She’s very understanding. I don’t know why I’ve been thinking otherwise,”

“Because you’re Zara,” her mother said with a knowing smile.

“What do you mean by that?” Zara asked, pretending to be offended.

“Enough of this. Go fold your clothes,” her mother ordered, ending the conversation.

“Oh, Ami, I have a headache. I’m not feeling well. Can you please check my temperature?” Zara whined, hoping to evade the chore.

“Why does your temperature always rise whenever I ask you to do a chore?” her mother asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Why do you ask me to do chores when you know it’ll raise my temperature?” Zara retorted cheekily.

Her mother pretended to reach for her chappal (Slippers) , “Alright, alright, I’m going!” Zara laughed and ran outside to avoiding the chore and any real scolding.

“I’m not sure about it, but if you think this is feasible for all of us, then you should send your parents to meet mine. You know it’s not entirely my decision,” Ayesha said, her thoughtfully.

“Thank you so much, Ayesha. You’ve really unburdened me,” Zara sighed, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

Zara finally mustered the courage to ask Ayesha, and Ayesha’s simple, supportive answer made Zara feel light. She had been worrying over her response, but Ayesha made everything seem so easy. All this happened during break time at cafeteria.

“Really? How long have you been thinking about this?” Ayesha asked with curiosity.

“Since before that proposal from the doctor came. But when you told me about it, I felt so hopeless. My brother urged me to tell you anyway, but I wasn’t sure,” Zara confessed.

“I can’t believe this. You’re usually so straightforward, and you took so much time over this. And by the way, that proposal has been rejected,” Ayesha revealed, much to Zara’s surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Zara asked, her eyes widened.

“I only found out yesterday,”

“So, why? What was the reason?”

“His mother,”

“Excuse me, his mother? What about her?” Zara's confusion deepened.

“My mother said his mother has a different nature, and I wouldn’t be able to live with her,” Ayesha explained.

“What do you mean? You were supposed to marry him, not his mother. I mean, no offense, but that doesn’t seem like a valid reason to reject him,” Zara said, incredulous. “I’ve seen my mother get along well with yours. But rejecting someone because your mother thinks you won’t get along with his mother? That doesn’t make sense to me.”

“It’s okay, really. My mother always told me that when a woman gets married, she should consider her compatibility with her mother-in-law. If you get along with her, it makes everything easier for everyone. There’s no need for the husband to choose sides. It’s about harmony among the women of the house. But Waleed’s mother has a different nature, and my mother sensed that. To be honest, she seemed a bit rude. My mother told me yesterday that they had already declined the proposal,” Ayesha explained with a calm and rational voice.

“That’s interesting, but still a bit odd. Couldn’t you have asked for a separate home?” Zara suggested with brow furrowing.

“Why would I do that? I want to be part of a family, not create distance. It was never an option for me,”

“So, you’re saying the boy was perfect, but he was still rejected?” Zara asked, trying to understand.

“You can say that. But pairs are made in heaven. This wasn’t the only reason; my parents must have considered other aspects too. Summing it all up, they refused,”

“Well, that sounds good to my ears,” Zara said, visibly relieved.

“That’s why I noticed you weren’t too thrilled when I first mentioned it,”

“Look, I was happy for you, but my family presented me with a situation involving you. I was really in a dilemma. Maybe if they hadn’t asked for this favor, I would have been happier than anyone, but I still was maybe, I am, you know what, I am the one more excited on your this jorney, I mean I am so so excited that I don't have words, how can I explain this to you.” Zara got emotional more than excited.

“I Know" Ayesha smiled and gave a comforting hug to her, "And about this, don’t worry. Everything happens for a reason. We’ll figure it out together,” Ayesha reassured her.

Just as Zara was finishing her sentence, she saw Abdul Hadi approaching. Ayesha raised her eyebrows, noticing Zara’s sudden change in demeanor. Ayesha was about to turn around when Abdul Hadi arrived at their table.

"Assalam o Alaikum," Abdul Hadi greeted.

"Walekum Assalam," they replied in unison.

They were sitting in cafeteria when Abdul Hadi joined them and Ayesha politely asked her to have a seat.

"I wanted to know if you still need a third member," he asked, getting straight to the point, fetching the seat.

"Yes, we were about to ask if you wanted to join us," Zara responded..

"Here I am. Tell me what I have to do," Abdul Hadi said

"We haven’t settled on anything yet. We're still brainstorming ideas," .

"Okay, let me know whenever you need me,"

"Yeah, sure. Leave your number, and we’ll contact you," Zara instructed.

Abdul Hadi gave Zara his contact number while Ayesha saved it in her phone as well.

"We’ll text you," Zara said with her curt tone.

"Sure," Abdul Hadi replied, standing and turning to leave. But Zara called out.

"Hey, wait."

"Yes?" He stopped and turned back, raising an eyebrow.

"Have you thought of any ideas?"

"No, I don’t have any ideas. You choose one and tell me my role," Abdul Hadi said flatly.

"We’re working as a team, aren’t we? Don’t you think we should choose an idea together?" Zara pressed with frustration creeping into her voice.

"I’m not great at coming up with ideas," Abdul Hadi admitted, his simplicity unintentionally provoked Zara.

"What do you mean? So you’re going to do nothing then?" Zara’s temper flared, frustration creeped into her voice. Ayesha, sensed the brewing storm, intervened. "Zara!" she exclaimed, trying to calm her down. "He didn’t say that. He just meant we can choose the idea and he’ll help make it happen."

"At least say you'll try to contribute," Zara snapped, her frustration growing as she noticed Ayesha continued to take his side.

"Yes, I can. But I honestly don’t have any ideas right now,"

"Okay, Abdul Hadi, we’ll text you about the meetings ahead," Ayesha said, trying to defuse the tension.

"Thank you," Abdul Hadi said, and without another glance at Zara, walked away.

Zara fumed, "Look at him, trying to act smart. You said he was decent. Is this what a decent person does? Joining the group for marks and taking credit for doing nothing. I can’t tolerate him, Ayesha. I just can’t."

"What happened, Zara? We can’t control his contribution," Ayesha said, trying to soothe her.

"He should take responsibility. I’m not going to burn the midnight oil for him," Zara declared.

"You won’t have to,"

"He’ll ruin my mood, I just know it," Zara continued, her anger unabated.

"You never do that to anyone, Zara. You always let people decide their roles. Just let him do what he can,"

"I can’t let him be my boss. Did you notice his attitude?"

"Okay, I agree, he has an attitude problem but—" Ayesha began.

“Attitude problem but what? I don’t think this team will work out. He was arguing with me at our first meeting. He’s such a Mr. Rude. If you still want to work with him, I’ll make sure he regrets it. I’ll make his life a living hell.” Zara vowed.

Ayesha knew Zara well enough to realize that there was no reasoning with her now. When Zara lost her temper, she became unstoppable. Although Zara was usually composed and calm, this trait of hers was formidable. Ayesha sighed, recognizing that she had a challenging task ahead to keep the team.

“So, have you talked with the girls?” Sher Chachu asked as Abdul Hadi poured himself a glass of water.

“Yes, I just met them.” Abdul Hadi replied casually, taking a sip.

“And?”

“And honestly, I'm not sure what they're planning for the stall.”

“They didn’t give you any idea?” Sher Chachu inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really. Zara seemed a bit assertive, pushing for ideas right away”

“Assertive, huh? Well, that’s how these things start. You should engage more with them," Sher Chachu advised.

“Maybe”

“But Zara, she’s quite outspoken, isn’t she?” Sher uncle probed further.

“Yeah, she is.” Abdul Hadi replied with reservation in his voice.

“I’ve seen her in class. She’s smart, but she can be intense sometimes"

“Yeah, exactly, and what about the marks, though? Are you really going to add those marks to our exams?” he changed the subject, looking genuinely curious.

Sher uncle did not even hesitated for a moment before replying, “I’m not sure yet. I might decide later.”

“You made a promise to the class. You should stick to it”

“I know, but things can change”

“You should think about it carefully. Reputation matters.” Abdul Hadi tried to put some realization.

“Oh boy, I will, don’t you worry.”.

“So, what have you all decided?” Qadeer Baloch asked his only daughter, Ayesha, as they sat around the dining table.

“We're still thinking. Also, this other classmate hasn’t added any input, he is new, so we’re worried it might not work out well,” Ayesha replied, a crease of worry on her forehead. She was juggling two major concerns: how the group would collaborate and the fact that she hadn't come up with any new ideas to present to Zara the next day that she has asked to come up with via text in the WhatsApp group created by her for the future discussions.

“Don’t worry. You’re all adults. When you sit together and discuss, you’ll figure it out. Sharing ideas and strategies will help you find a way,” Abdul Qadeer reassured her.

“I just hope we can work harmoniously. I have a bad feeling about this,”

“You’re overthinking it, my dear. Worrying is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do but it gets you nowhere.”

Ayesha could only let out a cold sigh.