the once crore Deal

Chapter 3

The One Crore Deal - Chapter 3

​"Going to keep her with you?" Roohi's voice pierced the quiet air as she stared at Asfand in disbelief.

​"No, I told you, I’m not keeping her. I don't need this useless tension," Asfand replied defensively, running a hand through his hair.

​"Then why did you bring her back after throwing her out?" Roohi raised an eyebrow, pinning him with a knowing look.

​"I don't know!" Asfand snapped, frustration flaring up. "Roohi, I come to you to share, not to be interrogated. If you don't like it, say so; I won't come back."

​"Asfand, when did I say—"

​"Your attitude says it all. You're judging me." He glared at her, grabbing his car keys in a sudden fit of rage. "I've had enough."

​"Asfi, wait—!" Roohi called out, rushing after him, but he was already gone.

​Outside, a bitter cold wave swept through the city, accompanied by a relentless drizzle. Ignoring the freezing weather, Asfand drove down to the deserted sea beach. He stepped out, lit a cigarette, and stared blankly into the churning, angry waves.

​Yet, the sea couldn't wash away her image. That pale, innocent, bruised face kept haunting him, pulling at his soul with an invisible, magnetic thread.

​Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

​"Is this Asfand Yar Wali?" a shaky, anxious voice asked on the other line.

​"Yes. Speak."

​"I have a job for you. Urgent."

​Asfand checked his watch—8:00 PM. "Give me the location."

​Minutes later, standing under the dim streetlights, the client handed him a photograph of a prominent city businessman. "He's my uncle, but just on paper. I want him gone with a single bullet. Make sure he doesn't take another breath."

​Asfand studied the man's cold, greedy face. "Family turning on family... this world never ceases to amaze me," he muttered with a dark smile, tossing his business card to the boy. "Done. Send the details."

​Keen on avoiding the flat for a while, Asfand drove around the city aimlessly, finally returning well past midnight at 1:00 AM.

​When he unlocked the door and flicked on the lights, he froze. Zartash was sitting upright on the lounge sofa, wide awake, her hollow eyes locked onto him. She had improvised a makeshift bandage on her wounded hand with a clean piece of cloth.

​"Di... did you eat?" he asked awkwardly, trying to break her intense gaze.

​"No," she whispered softly.

​"Why?"

​"The kitchen... it was empty," she replied with innocent vulnerability, making him instantly remember that he hadn't stocked any groceries.

​"Ah, right. Sorry, I forgot," Asfand muttered, hastily pulling out his phone to order food. For the first time in his ruthless life, the legendary Asfand Yar Wali was stumbling over his words. "Food's on the way. Sit tight."

​Noticing her shivering, he grabbed the medical box. "The weather's freezing, and your condition is still bad." Kneeling before her, his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird as he unwrapped the dirty bandage from her head. A subtle, natural fragrance emanated from her, intoxicating his senses.

​As he finished redressing the wound and started to stand, her small hand shot out, catching his wrist.

​"Your hand is bleeding," she whispered, her eyes full of genuine worry.

​"It's nothing."

​"Let me." Without waiting for permission, she carefully unwrapped the stained handkerchief from his injured knuckles. The glass cuts from earlier had worsened. "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked softly while cleaning the wound.

​"No. Cruel men don't feel pain," Asfand replied with a self-deprecating smirk.

​"Is that a compliment or an insult?" she asked, looking right into his eyes.

​"Take it however you like."

​As she gently dabbed the antiseptic, a stray lock of hair fell across her face. Without thinking, Asfand's hand moved on its own to tuck the silky strands behind her ear—right as the doorbell rang loudly, shattering the spell.

​"Food's here," Asfand cleared his throat, handing her the delivery bag. "Need help?"

​"No, I've got it."

​He had ordered pasta. Though he didn't know her preferences, she ate with a quiet hunger, as if she hadn't touched food in days.

​"Want more?" he asked softly, watching her.

​"No... what will you eat?" she hesitated.

​"I ate outside. Finish it."

​After quietly cleaning up, she brought him a steaming mug of tea. "Here."

​Asfand looked up, sipping the brew. "What's your name?"

​"Zartash," she whispered.

​"I'm Asfand."

​"The tea... is it okay?" she asked shyly.

​"It's the best I've had in a long time," he smiled genuinely. Then, changing her tone, she looked down and said, "Please... tell me about some shelter home (Darul Aman). I'll go there. I refuse to be a burden on you."

​Asfand's expression darkened. He set the mug down firmly. "You can stay here as long as you want. No one is kicking you out."

​Before she could argue, she retreated quietly to her room. Just then, his phone rang.

​"I heard about the hit, Asfand," the client's voice hissed angrily. "You crossed a line—"

​"I have plenty of enemies, one more won't hurt," Asfand interrupted coldly. "And listen to me carefully: if so much as a scratch appears on Zartash, I will wipe out your entire generation." He hung up instantly.

​Looking toward her door, he called out, "I'll be out late. Don't open the door for anyone. I have my own key."

​The next day, Asfand took Roohi to the mall, buying clothes and essentials for Zartash. For the first time, Roohi saw a genuine, glowing happiness in Asfand's eyes.

​Later that afternoon, executing the contract hit, Asfand tracked his target near a crowded plaza. Waiting for the precise window, he fired a single, flawless shot through the window. The man dropped instantly. Job done, Asfand slipped away smoothly.

​Driving back ten minutes later, mind racing, disaster struck.

​BAM!

​Another vehicle violently slammed into the rear of his car.

​Asfand slammed the brakes and stormed out, ready to murder whoever was driving. A young girl had collided with his bumper and was lying unconscious a few feet away, miraculously uninjured from the impact.

​"Unbelievable... another nuisance," Asfand muttered, rubbing his temples in sheer annoyance. But with no choice, he scooped her up and drove back to his flat.

​The moment he unlocked the door, Zartash was standing right there in the lounge, her eyes flashing with sudden, sharp possessiveness.

​"Who is she?" Zartash asked, her voice tight with a strange, undeniable spark of jealousy.

​"I don't know, her car crashed into mine—" Asfand started, gently laying the unconscious girl on the sofa.

​"Oh! So now whoever crashes into your car, you bring them home to live?" Zartash snapped defensively, crossing her arms.

​Asfand stared at her in utter shock, a wide, victorious smile threatening to break across his lips. Is she... jealous?

​Though the situation was chaotic, a warm thrill rushed through his veins. He had a feeling his quiet, dangerous life was never going to be the same again.

​(To Be Continued...)