The house was unusually quiet that evening. Outside, the sky was painted with soft shades of orange, fading into deep blue. Inside, however, there was a weight in the air that neither Aabi nor Zulfishan could completely ignore.
Zulfi sat on the edge of the sofa, holding her phone in her hands, staring at the anonymous message she had received earlier that week. It wasn’t Raheel. He denied it firmly. That truth brought some relief, but it also opened a bigger, more unsettling question — if not him, then who?
Aabi walked in from the study, loosening the top button of his shirt. His eyes immediately went to her.
“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” he said softly, settling beside her.
She gave a small nod. “I can’t help it. Whoever sent this… they know things about me. About us.
