The next morning, the apartment felt strangely peaceful. The air was still, and for once, there was no buzz from the intercom or suspicious shadows outside the windows.
Zulfishan sat curled on the sofa, wrapped in a shawl. She had hardly slept, but at least the fear in her chest wasn’t quite as sharp as before. The police had taken the delivery man and his two partners into custody. The question now was—who had sent them?
Aabi came in with two cups of tea, placing one in front of her. “Drink this. You look like you haven’t closed your eyes all night.”
She managed a tired smile. “Neither have you.”
“True,” he admitted, sitting beside her. “But at least it’s over.”
---
Just then, his phone buzzed. He checked the screen—Inspector Hammad.
Aabi answered immediately. “Yes, Inspector?”
Th
