chapter 5
1573 Words
Zulfishan had never felt so alone in a room full of people.
The office buzzed with energy, but every glance thrown her way felt like a silent judgment. Every whisper behind her back made her skin crawl. And the restriction on her access—clearly marked in red whenever she logged in—reminded her every minute that she was under suspicion.
She had never cried in public before, but her eyes burned with the weight of silent accusations.
That evening, she sat in the small corner of the office cafeteria, a place usually filled with laughter and harmless gossip. Now, it felt cold.
Erum quietly approached and slid into the seat across from her.
“No one believes you anymore,” Zulfishan whispered, not looking up.
“I do,” Erum said. “But someone’s working hard to make sure you stay blamed.”
Zulfishan looked at her, a bitter smile on her lips. “Why? What did I do to deserve this?”
Erum hesitated. “That’s what you need to find out. Start with the people who know your passwords. Or access your desk. Or… want you gone.”
Zulfishan blinked. “Why would anyone want me gone?”
But she already knew the answer.
---
That night, she went home and found a white envelope on her windowsill.
There was no stamp, no sender.
Just her name: Zulfishan — written in sharp, slanted handwriting.
Her hands shook as she tore it open.
> “You trust too easily.
The one you think protects you… is hiding more than you know.
Dig quietly. Don’t ask. Watch.
You’re being watched too.”
Her blood ran cold. She ran to the window — but no one was there. The street below was empty except for a stray cat and a flickering lamp post.
Her chest tightened with fear.
Was someone following her?
---
The next morning, she arrived early and sat near the file cabinets, pretending to work. She kept her eyes on her own desk, which she had left unlocked on purpose.
A few minutes before office hours, she saw someone pass by and pause near her table.
She held her breath.
It was Salman.
He glanced around, then walked closer to her desk. Before he could touch anything, a junior staff member called out, “Salman bhai, you coming for the layout meeting?”
He looked startled, turned sharply, and walked away—without noticing her watching him from the shadows.
Zulfishan’s hands clenched.
---
At lunch, Salman came to sit beside her as usual, smiling like nothing was wrong.
“You didn’t wait for me this morning,” he said lightly.
“I needed air,” she replied flatly.
“You’re quiet,” he said, watching her. “Is it because of the office?”
She gave him a small nod, but inside, a storm raged. Why was he near her desk? What was he trying to do?
“Don’t worry,” he added, placing his hand over hers, “I’ll always stand by you.”
She smiled softly… but didn’t believe a word of it.
---
Later that day, Aabi received a second anonymous email.
> “Check the camera near the west hallway on the 4th floor.
You'll find the shadow behind the file leak.”
He immediately called Haider. “Pull the last two weeks’ footage from that hallway,” he ordered.
When the clip came through, Aabi sat frozen as he watched.
A figure in a hoodie slipped into the hallway at 7:16 PM—well after hours. The person picked the lock of the file room and plugged in a USB.
When they turned slightly, the profile was visible for just a second.
Aabi leaned forward.
It was someone from his own team.
But the footage cut off before the identity was confirmed.
He cursed under his breath.
“This goes deeper than we thought,” he muttered.
---
As the week passed, Zulfishan started keeping a journal. Every movement, every strange encounter, every face that looked too curious—she wrote it all down. She felt like she was in the middle of a puzzle, but the pieces were from two different pictures.
Then, another twist arrived.
A new intern joined the office. Her name was Mehreen—young, stylish, overly friendly, and strangely curious about Zulfishan’s case.
Within hours, Mehreen had asked Erum five questions about Zulfishan’s position, her desk, her working hours.
Erum frowned but didn’t say anything.
That evening, Mehreen smiled at Zulfishan and said, “You know, sometimes, the one who saves you is also the one who started the fire.”
Zulfishan stared at her.
“What did you say?”
Mehreen just shrugged, as if she’d said nothing important, and walked away.
---
Now Zulfishan knew for sure: she was in the center of something much bigger.
But who had sent the letters?
Why was Salman sneaking around?
Why had Aabi suddenly gone silent, avoiding her more and more?
And who was Mehreen really?
Someone was weaving a trap…
And Zulfishan was going to break it — or be buried in it.
--------
Zulfishan was never the type to follow people. But ever since Mehreen joined the office, her instincts had started ringing alarms louder than reason.
Too curious.
Too friendly.
Too fast.
That morning, Mehreen had laughed a little too hard at one of Salman’s jokes. Later, she had glanced at Aabi’s locked cabin like she was measuring its security. And when she passed Zulfishan in the hallway, she whispered with a strange smile, “Truth comes to those who dare.”
It was enough.
Zulfishan made up her mind.
She would follow her.
---
At 5:48 PM, most of the office was emptying. Zulfishan stayed back, pretending to rearrange design samples near the glass shelves. Mehreen exited at 6:03, her laptop bag casually slung over her shoulder, her phone pressed to her ear — but she wasn’t talking.
Zulfishan quietly slipped her own bag over her shoulder and trailed behind her, maintaining just enough distance.
Instead of heading toward the metro like she usually did, Mehreen turned toward the older side of the city — a quiet alley near old printing warehouses.
Zulfishan’s heart pounded. She quickened her pace slightly.
Mehreen stopped outside a dull grey building and rang the bell. A man opened the door, spoke briefly, and handed her an envelope.
Zulfishan stepped behind a rusted van and peered through the side mirror.
The man was short, wearing a cap pulled low over his eyes — but the side profile was faintly familiar.
Too familiar.
Zulfishan gasped silently. She’d seen him once — in a photograph on Salman’s phone.
No... it couldn’t be.
She pulled out her phone and took a shaky photo. But just then, Mehreen turned. Zulfishan ducked instinctively, her heart beating out of rhythm.
When she looked back up, Mehreen was gone.
---
That night, Zulfishan couldn’t sleep.
She printed the photo and stared at the man’s face. She was sure she’d seen him before — with Salman. A family wedding picture, maybe? A friend? A cousin?
But why was Mehreen meeting someone linked to Salman, in a deserted part of the city, receiving an envelope?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a message.
From a private number.
> “You’re getting too close.
They know you’re watching.
Be careful who you trust.
Even your shadow can betray you.”
Zulfishan sat frozen.
---
The next morning, Zulfishan reached the office early. She noticed Aabi coming in a few minutes after her, looking tired. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t speak. Just locked himself in his cabin.
But when Zulfishan passed his door, she saw something strange on the corner of his desk — a printout of a CCTV still.
It showed Mehreen… near the file room… at 9:46 PM.
Exactly four nights ago — the night before Zulfishan’s ID had been flagged for unauthorized access.
Why did Aabi have this?
Was he investigating Mehreen too?
Or worse… was Mehreen working with someone inside?
---
During the coffee break, Mehreen approached Zulfishan with her usual confident smile.
“You know, you’re not as invisible as you think,” she said casually.
Zulfishan narrowed her eyes. “And you’re not as innocent.”
Mehreen’s smile didn’t fade. “Some truths are better left buried. People who dig too much… tend to fall in.”
With that, she walked away.
Zulfishan stood still, her fingers trembling around the coffee cup.
This wasn’t a game anymore.
Someone was playing all the pieces — and Mehreen wasn’t just a pawn. She was part of the plan.
---
Later that day, Erum called Zulfishan aside.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Erum whispered, “but Salman was seen near the IT department again. After hours.”
Zulfishan’s breath hitched.
That made it twice in one week.
Salman. Mehreen. Mysterious messages. Anonymous meetings.
Was someone using Mehreen to manipulate the system from the outside while someone else worked from within?
Zulfishan had to act. But not recklessly. Not without proof.
For now, she’d pretend.
Smile.
Nod.
Act clueless.
But she had already made a decision:
Tonight, she would confront Aabi.
She needed to know what he had discovered — and if he was still on her side.
Because the web was tightening fast…
And someone was about to get caught.
---
- Writer
