Today Derrick had brought her on a date—
and the place was the same where they had gone on their very first date.
After the accident, the weakness she had felt had almost healed.
The plaster was still on her leg, but she didn't care.
"By the way… that day you did cross the line with me…"
Hiding a mischievous smile on her lips, she looked at him.
He was staring at her with those devouring eyes.
She knew well that he had deliberately mentioned it only to annoy her.
"Yes, I really did cross the line. I shouldn't have spilled wine on you…
I should've poured acid on your brain instead…"
She chewed every word with a burnt, bitter tone—
and he enjoyed it thoroughly.
His hearty laughter echoed through the restaurant.
Olivia gave him a smoldering look.
He was laughing as if she had just praised him.
"So it's proved, Miss Olivia loves me so much that she keeps thinking about me all the time…"
Suppressing another laugh with difficulty, he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
She groaned and stood up to leave,
but Derrick caught her hand and stopped her, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her—
his green eyes still glinting playfully.
"You give up too easily, you know…"
He let go of her hand, leaned back against the chair, and kept watching her.
"Give up? And me, Olivia? That's impossible."
Sitting back down across from him, she replied with a challenging tone.
"Oh, so that's how it is?"
He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table, looking straight at her.
"Yes. That's exactly how it is,"
she answered, equally confident, meeting his gaze.
From afar, they looked like the perfect romantic couple—
but only they knew the reality of their banter.
"Alright then… if today, even for a single moment, your heart skips a beat for me,
you'll honestly accept my proposal.
Do you agree?"
He challenged her seriously, staring right into her eyes.
For a fleeting moment, her heart really did skip at his words—
but only for a moment.
She quickly returned to her usual confidence.
"Agreed. Because I'm certain that will never happen."
Looking back into his eyes, she accepted the challenge.
"Why are you always so mean to me?"
He asked in mock annoyance, pulling out his phone at the same time.
"Oh please… have you ever looked at yourself? You're not good at all."
Her careless tone was sharp.
"That's even better! Neither am I good, nor are you.
Which means we'd make a perfect pair."
Busy sending messages to John, Derrick didn't make the mistake of silencing his tongue.
Olivia chose not to reply, instead pulling out her own phone and engrossing herself in it.
The order had already been placed—well, Derrick had placed it.
But it looked like it was for eight people, not two.
Naturally, it was going to take time.
A little while later, when the food finally arrived,
John stormed into the restaurant with a deep frown on his forehead.
Behind him, Emma followed.
The moment John spotted Derrick, he strode straight toward him,
glared at him—
while Derrick's mouth and hands were busy with food.
After all, it was a very "serious task."
"What's the problem? Why do you keep bothering me?
Do you know I had to leave such an important meeting to come here?"
John was furious.
Seeing him like that made Olivia and Emma nervous.
But the one John was angry at—Derrick—calmly put down a piece of chicken on his plate and finally looked at him.
"You came on your own—good thing.
Otherwise, if I'd gone there, those people would've had to leave their meeting."
With that, he returned to his food.
There was only one thing that could make Derrick serious—
and that was food.
Still glaring at him, John signaled the waiter to bring two more chairs.
When the chairs came, he sat down.
Now, he attended his meeting via video call—
because it truly was very important.
"Derrick, are you insane?"
Emma stared at him as if his brain had really gone bad.
After the meal, when they were leaving,
Derrick noticed a car that wasn't properly locked.
And of course—he jumped into it and drove off.
The poor owner ran behind in panic,
but Derrick was in full mischief mode.
Only after a lot of trouble,
they managed to calm the owner down by giving him money.
"Yes, I am… so what?"
Derrick replied cheekily, looking around with enjoyment.
It was evening.
Streetlights were on.
Snow had been cleared from the road, leaving space for cars to pass.
The four of them left the car in the parking lot and went for a walk.
"Then you should just go to a mental asylum!"
Emma folded her hands in exasperation.
At that, a strange coldness flickered in John's blue eyes—
something only Derrick noticed.
"I'll be back,"
John said, striding ahead with long steps.
Derrick signaled Olivia to follow him.
"What happened?"
Emma asked Derrick worriedly, watching John move away.
"Emma… how much do you actually know about John?"
Derrick shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at her.
Startled by the question, she hesitated—
but then steadied herself.
"I believe he's a murderer."
She answered with confidence.
Her words made Derrick fall silent for a moment.
"How can you say that about someone without knowing the truth?"
He was angry but kept his temper.
"Han told me everything… that…"
She began, but Derrick cut her off.
"…that John killed his own mother, his sister, and Rocky.
Isn't that what you were told?"
He completed her sentence bitterly.
"Yes. So isn't it true?"
She folded her arms and glared at him.
"If he had really killed his mother, why wasn't he jailed?
Alright, maybe not then—
but what about when he supposedly killed his sister?"
Her tongue faltered here.
Derrick stared at her angrily, then finally spoke.
Today, he had to tell her everything—
because John never would.
And Derrick knew that John's heart beat for this very girl…
the one who misunderstood him so badly.
Taking a deep breath, he began—
.....
Derrick tells John's truth
Jafar had married John's mother for wealth.
But she had loved him truly.
She even accepted Islam, believing him blindly, following everything he said.
Her heart broke when she discovered Jafar had already been married,
with a wife back in Pakistan and even a son from her.
After the death of his parents, Jafar had brought that son here—
and they moved into the same house.
At that time, John was four years old,
while Maryam was still a baby.
Every day there were fights at home—instigated by Shazia Begum.
Eventually, Jafar divorced John's mother at her demand.
She was shattered.
Jafar and Shazia left with Hanan.
The children were disturbed, so one day she took them out for fresh air.
While buying them ice cream, John saw a man hold a knife to his mother's back.
In trying to save her, John pushed her—
but instead, an accident happened.
And so he broke a second time.
His father, who had vanished, returned—
but grew more negligent with each passing day.
They told John his mother had died.
Worse, they smeared her reputation with lies.
Later, someone poisoned Rocky.
Unable to bear his suffering,
John strangled him to end his pain.
Rocky had been his mother's memory—
her fragrance.
After that, all he had left was his sister.
But his stepmother sent him to boarding school,
and even separated him from Maryam.
When he returned to meet her,
someone locked him inside a store.
All he heard was Maryam's scream.
And when he came out, she was gone.
He was sent back to boarding.
They searched for Maryam, but she was never found.
From then, John grew silent.
One day, he even tried to end his own life.
Looking at his past record,
they sent him to a mental hospital.
For three months he lived among the insane—
though he himself was sane.
If not for one kind soul, he would have gone mad for real.
Jafar didn't care for him.
He only wanted John alive because all the property was in his name—
left to him by his mother.
Later, another truth came out.
His mother was alive—
but in a coma.
Jafar knew.
He had taken her thumbprints,
and transferred some properties into his own name.
When she survived, he tried again to have her killed.
But the doctor he bribed told John everything instead.
At sixteen, John took Derrick's help,
and they shifted her to a safe place.
Recently, she regained consciousness,
but her condition still prevents her from being brought forward.
Jafar then played another game—
he sent a woman disguised as John's mother to trick him into signing over his wealth.
Even now, a man comes to John's office claiming to be her friend.
If John didn't already know the truth, he would've fallen into their trap.
---
Emma shivered.
"What are you, John…? What a painful past…"
Even Derrick grew quiet,
reliving his friend's suffering.
---
When Emma and Derrick reached John,
he was leaning on the railing, staring at the sea.
But Olivia wasn't there.
"She went to take a call,"
he replied flatly, his eyes fixed on the water.
Sensing something wrong, Derrick signaled Emma to stay put
and went after Olivia.
Emma twisted her fingers nervously,
thinking of something to say.
John could tell she wanted to speak,
but he didn't even glance at her.
"Oh my God… Emma, is that really you?"
Two boys walked past, and one stopped, stunned at seeing her.
Emma looked at him, trying to recognize him.
John's attention instantly shifted to her as well.
"Who…?" she finally asked.
"It's me, Sam! We were school friends!"
Realization dawned, and Emma hugged him in excitement.
John turned his head and saw them.
Seeing Emma in another man's arms—
already burning inside, he exploded.
In a flash, he pulled her away from Sam
and punched him hard in the face.
"She is mine!"
Before he could land another blow, Emma grabbed his arm.
"Sam, go!"
The boy, wiping blood from his nose, quickly disappeared.
He had recognized John—
and thought it wiser to escape.
As soon as he left,
John removed Emma's hand from his arm
and instead gripped both her wrists tightly, pulling her close.
So close that his hot breath brushed her face.
His icy blue eyes burned into hers.
"What were you thinking… hugging him like that?"
His cold voice sent shivers down her spine.
"He's just my friend…"
She somehow managed to force the words out.
John dragged her to the railing and leaned her over it.
"Do you see this? Right now I feel like throwing you down there,
just to erase his touch from you."
Emma swallowed hard, staring at the raging sea below.
The icy water crashed violently, its depth unfathomable.
Her fear of heights made her vision darken.
Her struggling body went limp.
When John finally straightened her,
she had already fainted.
And he—he felt no regret.
Had she not fainted,
he might truly have thrown her into the sea today.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the car,
then called Derrick.
Derrick told him to leave them and hung up.
Meanwhile, Olivia—
already injured and trembling—
had been dragged into a narrow alley by a few thugs.
Using the fog as cover, they tried to abduct her.
But John, injured himself, quickly turned on a police siren.
Hearing it, the men panicked,
left Olivia, and fled.
Derrick hurried over, picked up her fallen coat,
and draped it over her shoulders.
When she looked up and saw him,
she immediately threw her arms around him.
Derrick, who had planned to spend the day beautifully,
could only sigh deeply at how strangely it had ended.
---.....
Anyway, when Rukhsar Begum was about to leave, she had told everything that had happened in the past three years. And Hoor was thankful that she had exercised patience that day.
Except for the very first day, she always slept beside Diyan.
Love is so deep that every moment I wish to see you…
Respect is so great that at your sight, I lower my gaze…
(Mumtahina Mannat)
Even now, she was in the kitchen baking cookies at Diyan's request. She wore a blue printed suit with a hijab, while her dupatta was placed on the chair. Meanwhile, little Diyan was sitting on the floor doing full justice to a chocolate bar. Once his hands and mouth were smeared with chocolate, he seemed quite content.
"Mama… Diyan… dirty now…" With his tiny chocolate-covered hands, he tugged at her shirt to draw her attention.
"Oh! Where did this little chocolatey boy come from?" Hoor lifted him into her arms, rubbing her cheek against his, making him burst into laughter. That's all he wanted—that she give him her full attention.
After placing the cookie tray in the oven, she carried him outside.
"I want chocolate…" Diyan said while still in her arms, unaware that he was already under someone's intense gaze.
"But… Diyan already ate it all…" She placed a hand on her stomach, pretending to be troubled. His little forehead furrowed in worry.
"Then I'll just eat Diyan instead!" Hoor pretended to nibble his cheek, and in seconds the boy blushed red, making her fall for him all over again.
She bathed him, changed his clothes, and came downstairs again to take out the cookies before changing her own clothes, since Diyan had already soaked hers.
"Diyan, play with this while I come back…" She handed him a toy car and seated him on the sofa before hurrying back to the chicken on the stove.
"Baba!" Diyan, who had been playing with his car, suddenly saw Aahil and ran toward him excitedly.
Aahil had just returned after three days away for work. He had already noticed Hoor earlier when she was pampering Diyan upstairs. After they went inside, he too went to change, and now he came down wearing a white shalwar kameez.
Meanwhile, Hoor had just pulled the hot tray out of the oven. The moment she heard Diyan calling "Baba," her heart skipped a beat. Distracted for a moment, she accidentally set her hand on the hot tray.
"Ahhh!" She screamed in pain as tears welled in her eyes from the burning sensation.
Hearing her cry, Aahil rushed inside carrying Diyan. Seeing her in tears alarmed him. He stepped closer, but little Diyan, sitting in his arms, anxiously cupped her face with his tiny hands.
"Mama… Mama, don't cry…" But Hoor's tears only flowed faster. Who knew whether the pain came more from the burn—or from the cold indifference of the man who, ever since their marriage, had treated her so harshly.
"Hoor, are you okay?" This time Aahil asked directly, genuinely disturbed by her tears.
At his question, Hoor looked at him through her teary eyes. He could clearly read what was written in them: You're only asking out of formality… are you really concerned?
---
No complaints against you…
I will listen to all your stories…
Even if you have grievances against me, my love, those too are precious…
Ask your questions, I will answer… leaving you speechless…
No regrets, no sorrows left behind…
No talk of forgetting anymore…
You will never be able to erase me…
I am the only one worthy of your love…
You are my life, my love, my everything…
Who else is mine besides you?
If I don't complain to you, who else shall I complain to?
You will never be able to forget me…
No matter how much you pray to…
They both stared silently into each other's eyes. One pair reflected exhaustion, the other carried sleepless sorrow.
It was Diyan who broke the silence.
"Baba… Mama… is crying…" He couldn't bear to see his mother cry any longer and began crying along with her.
When Hoor reached to take him from Aahil's arms, Aahil noticed her reddened palm. Instead of handing Diyan over, he shifted him to one arm and, holding Hoor with the other, brought them both into the lounge.
"Sakeena Bua!" he called loudly for the housemaid, who appeared a few moments later. He ordered her to bring the first aid box.
Turning back, he saw that Diyan was already sitting in Hoor's lap, showering kisses alternately on her cheeks. She, smiling through her tears, looked at him with motherly affection, her face glowing with maternal love.
Aahil didn't understand this woman. Despite everything he had done to her, she still stood by him. She had every chance to leave but never did. Since learning the truth, he himself hadn't had the courage to face this extraordinary woman.
Before leaving, Rukhsar Begum had already told him that Hoor had no part in demanding divorce.
And the last thorn was removed by Ahmed at the airport:
"Brother, because of all the chaos earlier, I couldn't tell you something important. The day Api had her accident, the man who helped her accidentally kept her phone in his car. He's an acquaintance of mine. The next morning, he told me he had received a call from an unknown number—your number. When I checked, it really was yours. I just wanted to clear this misunderstanding so you wouldn't think wrongly of Api. Her character is spotless."
With lowered eyes, he had unknowingly removed the thorn from his sister's life—a thorn that, had she known, would have destroyed her completely.
"This isn't him, right?" Aahil had shown a photo of the man, and Ahmed's confirmation untangled the entire knot. After that, Aahil began hiding from Hoor instead, consumed with guilt for having thought so poorly of her. He was only grateful that he had never voiced his suspicions to her.
He took her burned hand, red and swollen, and after applying ointment, glanced at her. But she ignored him completely, talking instead to Diyan, who was anxiously staring at her palm.
"My baby, I'm perfectly fine. Look, nothing happened to me. See, I'm smiling!" She forced a smile to reassure him.
Diyan finally stopped crying, convinced. Hoor, helpless, glanced at Aahil for the first time during all this. Fear lingered in her eyes—afraid of what he might think of her.
Aahil took Diyan from her arms and whispered something in his ear. The boy shook his head while sobbing. Aahil nodded back as if saying, I understand. Then he carried Diyan to his room.
When he returned, Hoor was gone. He saw her travel bag on the sofa. Frowning, he followed the sounds coming from the kitchen—where she was washing dishes.
Her carelessness only fueled his anger further. He stormed toward her, grabbed her wrist harshly, startling her.
Seeing Diyan asleep on his shoulder, she realized she had no way to escape. He dragged her to their room.
"Don't move from here—or I'll break your legs." He pushed her onto the sofa in a cold voice before leaving again.
She could hear him scolding the servants. Curling into the sofa, eyes shut tight, she prayed silently as tears streamed down. Her mind replayed the night he had abandoned her on the road after seeing her with Fahad.
Aahil had laid Diyan in his room, then returned to berate the servants. They wanted to explain that they always tried to stop Hoor from working, but she never listened.
When he came back with the ointment, he saw her sitting with her head bowed, tears falling. His own harshness struck him. But what could he do? Her neglect of herself drove him mad.
"Give me your hand." He sat beside her, speaking coldly. She instantly obeyed.
He gently applied the ointment again, which had washed off while she was doing dishes. After finishing, he didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he raised it to his lips and kissed it softly.
Startled, Hoor opened her eyes. Their gazes met. Gone was the harshness that had always frightened her. In its place was regret.
"Do you realize now… your wounds, your tears… they hurt me. That's why you're punishing me with them, aren't you?" He wiped her tears with his fingers, his tone defeated, staring into her wide, astonished eyes.
She couldn't understand this sudden change.
"Will you forgive me?" he asked with childlike longing.
Her mind recalled his past behavior. Tears flowed again as she shook her head.
Aahil pulled her into his arms. Her tears soaked his shirt.
"Hoor, the neglect of my loved ones broke me. And broken souls—while bleeding themselves—end up wounding others too. But enough… I'm tired now. Tired of proving my innocence. I just want to rest." He rested his chin on her head, speaking his heart.
Hoor stayed silent, listening, letting him release the poison within him.
"You know… you were the only one. The only one I never justified myself to—and you never asked for justification either. You stood by me when I had lost to everyone else. Even when I betrayed your trust…"
Quickly, she raised her head, placing a finger on his lips to stop him from saying more.
He smiled faintly at the gesture.
"Why are you so good?" he asked helplessly, moving her finger away.
"Because I…" She paused, gazed at him, and smiled softly.
"Because I am Mrs. Aahil."
And Aahil… he could only stare at this woman's greatness. After all he had done, she forgave him without a single complaint.
"No… wrong. You are not Mrs. Aahil." Suddenly, he stood up, startling her. She thought he had withdrawn again, and her heart panicked.
Before she could move, he grabbed her arms and pulled her close, locking eyes with her.
"You are not Mrs. Aahil… You are Aahil's very soul."
Her eyes widened, and a tear slipped down her cheek. He didn't let it go to waste, kissing it away.
"Mmm, not bad…" He leaned back slightly, gazing at her intently. Her face flushed crimson in seconds.
"No more crying, okay?" He tilted her chin upward, his gaze intense.
Her face burned red to the tips of her ears.
"This won't do, jaan-e-Aahil…" Unable to bear his gaze, she buried her face in his chest. He laughed out loud, and a shy smile crept onto her lips too.
---
To be continue