Rain had returned in the morning, tapping gently against Aabi’s apartment windows. Zulfishan sat at the kitchen counter, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee she hadn’t even tasted. Her eyes were fixed on nothing.
Mawra was still asleep in the guest room. Raheel had gone back to check the docks. Aabi kept pacing the room, his mind clearly running ahead of his steps.
“He won’t attack again right away,” Aabi said finally, stopping near the window.
Zulfishan glanced at him. “Why not?”
“Because he knows you’re expecting it now,” Aabi said. “He’ll change his approach. He’ll go slower… make you doubt every move.”
She didn’t reply, but deep down, she knew he was right.
---
At exactly 10:17 a.m., Aabi’s phone rang. No caller ID. He answered and put it on speaker.
Haris’s voice came smooth
