Chapter-2
Taimoor had learned early how to keep his emotions in order.
Life demanded it. Responsibilities waited for no one, and dreams required discipline. He carried himself with quiet control, the kind that came from knowing hesitation could cost too much. People often mistook his calm for distance, but it was simply how he survived—by thinking before feeling.
When he met Gul, he didn’t expect anything to change.
She wasn’t loud or demanding. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself. Yet there was something about her presence that slowed him down. She listened the way people rarely did—fully, without interrupting, without preparing a reply. Around her, silence felt natural, not awkward.
Their conversations stayed simple. Small topics. Everyday thoughts. Nothing personal enough to be risky. And still, Taimoor found himself remembering her expressions, the way her eyes softened when she smiled, the patience in her voice.
He told himself it was comfort. Familiarity. Nothing more.
But comfort had a way of settling deep.
On his busiest days, when his mind was crowded with plans and pressure, Gul’s calm stayed with him. He caught himself wanting to talk to her, wanting to share moments he usually kept to himself. That realization unsettled him.
Attachment was dangerous. It asked for time he wasn’t sure he could give. It demanded honesty he wasn’t prepared for.
Yet, when he thought of Gul, he didn’t feel fear first.
He felt ease.
And that was what troubled him most—because ease had the power to turn into something permanent, if he wasn’t careful.
He wondered, briefly, if she felt it too.
Then he pushed the thought aside, unaware that something fragile had already begun to grow between them.