On his drive back, Hasan's phone rang. He pulled over to the side of the road and answered the call from an unknown number.
"Hello, who is this?" he asked, his tone cautious. šµš»
On the other end was a woman's voice. "Who I am isn't important, sir. You're Hasan, correct?"
"Yes, that's me. Why are you calling me?" he inquired, his curiosity now piqued. š£
"Here's the thing, sir. I have something important for you. If you give me $5000, I'll give it to you," she stated bluntly.
"You must be one of those scam artists trying to swindle people. Are you trying to fool me too?" he retorted, his voice rising in dismissive irritation. š”
"Believe it or not, that's your business. But this is important information about your fiancƩe, Anisa," she countered, her voice steady.
His dismissiveness evaporated instantly. "What is it? What are you talking about?" he demanded. šµ
"I can't say over the phone. Let's meet and talk. Wednesday evening at the Coffee CafƩ," she proposed.
"Fine, I'll be there," Hasan agreed, his mind racing. "But if this is a trick, you'll regret it," he added, his voice dropping into a low threat before hanging up. š
He sat in his car, the engine idle. Who is she? What information could she possibly have about Anisa? The questions swirled, a new variable intruding upon his carefully laid plans. A potential threat, or perhaps, an unexpected opportunity.
______________________________________
The Manalo and Singh households were bustling with activity, immersed in the joyful preparations for Kirana and Yusuf's wedding, set for the following Monday in early April. The air in both homes was thick with anticipation, fragrant flowers, and the sound of happy coordination,a world away from the shadowy proposition now looming over Hasan's calculated path. š¹