Chapter 51: Unspoken Tensions

She had been so nervous while sitting next to him that whatever he was explaining to her

went out of her mind. And now she sat in front of the laptop screen, not able to understand

what to do. The work he had given her was non-theoretical and a bit technical. You needed

to understand it first in order to carry out what you would be doing.

On and on, her hands would fix her hair, then she would move her fingers on her forehead,

trying to recall what he had been saying. But the only picture that came to her mind was his

grey eyes. Out of fear, she wasn't even looking up. Almost fifteen minutes had passed, and

she had done nothing.

She was constantly tapping her foot against the floor and rubbing her hands together out of

impatience and nervousness. She felt like sitting in some exam hall and the deadly

invigilator was sitting just in front of her, and all the while, she just had to act like she knew

what she had been doing. Just like now.

All the while, Sheharzaad had been passing him the impression that her brain, body, and

soul were actually invested in the work she had been given. Whenever a certain feeling

would overcome her that a pair of eyes were gawking at her, instantly she would begin to

type something as if too busy even to look up. Or make a pensive face as if thinking hard

about something.

He was awfully quiet, but his presence alone was nerve-wracking. Neither could she find it

in herself to ask him about her doubts. That was a big no. The only thing that was brewing

in her heart was to somehow run away from here. And the first thing she so wanted to do

was to treat her tongue because it was hurting. She needed to apply some gel or something

on it that would alleviate the burning sensation.

"Show me what you've done," he suddenly said, which had her eyes bulging out as she

looked up at him and found his eyes on his laptop screen.

Tongue-tied, she couldn't muster up any answer.

He glanced up at her for a second before moving his eyes back to whatever task he was

doing while she hoped he could understand her predicament by the look on her face.

"I'm working on it."

"Show me what you've done." This time around, he closed the lid of his laptop and subjected

her to his full attention. She panicked.

"I'm working..."

"Bring it," he ordered, flicking his fingers.

She didn't want to embarrass herself by showing her work to him. If he came to know that

she had done this much in whole twenty minutes, then he wouldn't spare her.

And she wanted to be spared.

"Please... sir, I'm working. I'll... I'll show you when I'm done."

He frowned. "You're not gonna listen to me?"

"No, no. I will," came her abrupt response with her heart skipping a beat.

"Then?" He cocked his brow.

"Please, I'm still working. I'll show you when I'm done."

His eyes narrowed. "You're one stubborn piece, Sheharzaad, aren't you?" He stood up from

his chair and was about to move towards her when the door burst open, making his eyes

snap at the door and his hand instinctively moving towards the gun he had in his holster.

But it came as a surprise to him as he relaxed upon finding who was standing there.

"Dua?"

"Assalam alaikum," Dua, his sister, approached him and gave him a small hug.

"Did you come alone?" he asked, as soon as she detached. Dua knew how protective her

brother was of her.

"No, Haseeb and Alizeh came too."

"Alizeh?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, she had been insisting on meeting you."

On cue, Haseeb appeared at the door, holding five-year-old Alizeh in his arms.

"Jhooti Dua!" Haseeb bashed at her as soon as he entered the room, not looking left or right

while taking deep, long breaths.

(Dua, you liar!)

"Mujhe itna bhagaya. Ab tumhare jhansay mein main aanay se raha! Tum kitni tez ho, yaar!

Mere masoom aadmi ka koi khayal hi nahi," he whined.

(You made me run like a mad dog. Now I'll never believe you! You're so cunning and have

no care for this innocent man.)

"It's intelligence, not cunningness, Haseeb."

Haseeb was about to answer when his eyes fell on Shehryaar and his expressions faltered,

and a goofy smile appeared on his lips. "Hehe, sorry, Shehryaar bhai. Aapko dekha nahi."

(I didn't see you.)

"Yaar bhai! Yaar bhai!" the five-year-old, Alizeh giggled, trying to get off of Haseeb's arms

and wanting to go to his arms. Haseeb put her down on the floor and she began to rush

towards her dear 'yaar bhai.'

Alizeh still couldn't grasp his name, so she used to call him 'yaar' instead of 'Shehryaar.'

He squatted down on his knee as Alizeh rushed towards him, throwing her little arms

around and engulfed him in a hug.

A small smile spread on his lips.

Sheharzaad wondered who all they were, to whom his highness, the mighty, cold, barbarian

CEO Mr. Shehryaar Haider Syed was meeting warmly.

She never saw him smile like that. More likely, they were his family. She was surprised, he

even had a family.

As everyone was standing up, she stood up too because it seemed a bit inappropriate to her

and greeted Dua and Haseeb with a smile when a pair of grey eyes glanced at her for a

second.

"Taya abu (uncle) misses you a lot," Alizeh said as soon as she was in his arms. "And me

too," she stretched her arms to show how much she missed him.

"I will come to the haveli soon."

"You are lying. You always say that but you don't," she complained and held his ear. "Mama

does this to me when I lie."

Sheharzaad's eyes jutted out. That girl was literally holding his ear! Her mouth hung open.