Chapter 11 - Unresolved Questions

•The Unfinished Meeting

The night was thick with silence, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Haider's fingers against the café table. The dim glow of the hanging lights cast soft shadows over Abrish's face, but her eyes held something darker—something that refused to stay buried.

She exhaled, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup as if trying to hold onto something solid. "We never really talked about it, did we?"

Haider's jaw tightened. "What's there to talk about?"

Abrish gave a hollow laugh. "You tell me."

His fingers stilled. The past had always been a closed door, locked and hidden away. Yet, here they were again—standing right outside it.

She set her cup down, her voice quieter now. "Haider, do you even remember who we used to be?"

He flinched. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that. "I remember," he admitted. "But remembering doesn't change anything."

Abrish leaned forward. "Maybe it doesn't. But forgetting doesn't erase it either."

A cold gust of wind blew through the café as if the universe itself was listening. The unfinished meeting had resumed.

• Three Years Ago

University corridors echoed with laughter, hurried footsteps, and the occasional sound of books dropping. Among the crowd, two figures stood out—not because they tried to, but because something about them always demanded attention.

Zayan leaned against a pillar, flipping through his notebook absentmindedly. "You think this class will be as boring as the last one?"

Abrish smirked, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Depends. Are you planning to sleep through it again?"

"I was meditating," he said with a straight face.

She rolled her eyes, but the amusement in them was unmistakable. They had always been like this—bickering, teasing, effortlessly falling into the kind of rhythm only true friends understood.

But there were things neither of them said.

Like how Zayan's heart skipped a beat every time she laughed. Or how Abrish sometimes found herself watching him a little too long, wondering why someone who carried so much darkness still managed to bring her comfort.

They never said those things.

Maybe because some truths were too dangerous to admit.

• The Truth That Refuses to Die

Haider ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the way he avoided her gaze. "What do you want from me, Abrish?"

She inhaled sharply. "I want to know why."

"Why what?" His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

"Why you left," she said, the weight of the words pressing down on both of them. "Why you disappeared when I needed you the most. Why you never gave me a chance to understand."

The café seemed to shrink around them. Haider opened his mouth, then closed it. Some answers were easy. Others… they threatened to tear you apart.

And the one Abrish wanted?

It was the kind that never healed.

• Three Years Ago

The night was heavy with silence, but inside Abrish's apartment, the storm had only begun. She stood motionless, her fingers clenched into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms. The weight of betrayal sat in her chest like a boulder, suffocating, unrelenting.

She had run. From him, from the truth, from the unbearable weight of realization. But no matter how fast she moved, it had caught up with her.

He had betrayed her.

And the worst part?

She had seen it coming.

Somewhere, in the quiet corners of her heart, she had always feared that the world he belonged to would never allow him to truly be hers. But she had been foolish enough to believe. To trust.

She pressed her back against the cold wall of her dimly lit room, sliding down until she sat on the floor. Her vision blurred as she stared at the crumpled photograph in her trembling hands—the last memory of a world she thought was real.

A knock on the door jolted her from her haze.

"Abrish… I know you're in there."

She went rigid.

His voice.

Even now, it had the power to unravel her, to set her world spinning. But she couldn't afford to let him see her like this—broken, shattered, ruined.

"Please, just let me explain," His voice was rough, desperate. "Abrish, open the door."

Her heart ached. Her fingers curled tighter around the photograph.

She had two choices.

Open the door and let him feed her another lie.

Or walk away before he shattered her completely.

The door handle turned slightly.

Her breath hitched.

And then… she stood up.

Her fingers brushed against the lock for the briefest second—hesitation clawing at her—but then she stepped back.

No.

Not this time.

She turned away, walking toward the window. The city stretched beyond, vast and indifferent. Somewhere out there, a new beginning waited for her.

The knocking stopped.

Silence.

And then… footsteps retreating.

A shaky breath left her lips as she whispered to herself, more of a plea than a statement.

"Never again."

• The Mystery They Had Yet to Solve

A sudden vibration broke the moment—Haider's phone buzzing against the wooden table. He picked it up, his expression shifting from frustration to something unreadable.

Abrish watched him carefully. "What is it?"

He hesitated before meeting her gaze. "It's about your family."

Her breath hitched. "What do you mean?"

He pushed the phone toward her, a single message displayed on the screen:

"The past is catching up. You need to see this."

A chill ran down Abrish's spine. The wounds they thought had scarred over?

They were about to be ripped open again.

The old library smelled of dust and forgotten stories. Dim light flickered from an antique chandelier, casting eerie shadows on the towering bookshelves. Haider ran a hand over the worn leather spines, his mind racing. The letter they had found led them here—but to what?

Abrish stood beside him, scanning the dimly lit room with sharp, calculating eyes. There was something about this place, something familiar yet unsettling.

"This can't be a coincidence," she murmured, her fingers brushing against an old book.

Haider turned to her. "You think someone wanted us to find this?"

She exhaled slowly. "Every clue has led us somewhere significant. But the real question is… why now?"

Before Haider could respond, a soft creak echoed through the room. Both of them froze.

Someone was here.

Haider's muscles tensed as he took a step forward, his voice low and controlled. "Who's there?"

Silence.

Then, a whisper.

"Some truths should remain buried."

Abrish's blood ran cold. The voice—it wasn't just distant. It was distorted, almost unnatural.

Haider moved toward the source of the sound, his jaw clenched. "Show yourself."

A flicker of movement—a shadow disappearing behind a tall bookshelf. Without thinking, Haider sprinted after it, his footsteps echoing in the quiet.

"Abrish, stay close," he called over his shoulder.

She didn't need to be told twice.

The chase led them deeper into the library, where the air grew thick with dust and secrecy. The shadowy figure darted through the aisles, always just out of reach, until—

A sudden slam.

The main doors had shut on their own.

Abrish skidded to a stop, her breath uneven. "Okay… officially creepy."

Haider grabbed the edge of a shelf, steadying himself. "This isn't just a game. Someone doesn't want us here."

A single book tumbled from the highest shelf, landing at their feet with a thud.

They exchanged a glance.

Haider bent down, picking it up. The cover was old, the leather cracked. A symbol was etched onto the front—one Haider recognized instantly.

His father's ring bore the same emblem.

His grip tightened. "This… this was never just a mystery."

Abrish touched his arm lightly. "What does it mean?"

Haider swallowed hard. "It means my father knew more than he ever let on."

The weight of the truth settled between them, heavy and suffocating.

Somewhere, in the silence, the whisper returned.

"You're not ready for the truth."

• Three Years Ago 

The university library smelled of old books and fresh ink, a place where silence stretched endlessly. Zayan had never been one for libraries—too quiet, too still, too much space for his own thoughts to creep in. But today, he had no choice.

The professor had assigned a research project, and he needed a partner. Unfortunately, the only person left was the girl who always sat in the front row, scribbling notes as if her life depended on it.

Abrish Pasha.

She wasn't like the others. She didn't fawn over him like some girls did, and she didn't treat him like a nuisance like the professors. She simply existed in her own world—unbothered, unreadable.

Zayan dropped his bag onto the chair beside her with a dramatic sigh. "Lucky me, I get the class genius as my partner."

Abrish didn't even look up. "Lucky me, I get the guy who sleeps through every lecture."

He smirked. "I prefer to call it selective learning."

She finally glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Right. And what exactly have you learned so far?"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if about to reveal a great secret. "That our professor wears the same tie every Wednesday."

A laugh burst out of her before she could stop it. She quickly covered her mouth, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"But entertaining," he pointed out.

"Debatable," she muttered, but there was amusement in her eyes now.

That was the start.

From that day forward, Zayan and Abrish weren't just classmates—they were an equation that made sense, a bond that neither of them had looked for but somehow fit perfectly.

And maybe, just maybe, that's where the problem began.

 • The Breaking Point

The rain poured relentlessly that night, drenching the empty university courtyard. The distant echo of laughter and music from a farewell party inside the main hall contrasted sharply with the tension in the air.

Under the dim glow of the streetlight, Abrish stood still, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold something together—something that was already slipping through her fingers.

Zayan was in front of her, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. His jaw was clenched, hands curled into fists at his sides, as if he were trying to control something—anger, frustration, or maybe regret.

"You don't get to decide this for me, Zayan Khan ," Abrish's voice was firm, but there was something fragile underneath.

"I'm not deciding anything," his voice was hoarse, almost desperate. "I'm just telling you the truth—things aren't what you think they are."

She let out a hollow laugh. "The truth? That's rich, coming from you."

For a moment, he just stared at her, rain dripping from his lashes. "If you walk away now, Abrish… there's no coming back."

A shadow flickered across her face, something unreadable, something close to pain.

She stepped back. "Maybe there never was a way back, Zayan."

The next moment, she was gone, disappearing into the rain, leaving behind only silence—one that would stretch across years, unanswered.

Three Years Ago

"You let them do this?" she whispered.

Zayan's jaw clenched. His heart was screaming at him to fix this, to say something, anything—but all he could do was stand there, frozen.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away.

"You were my best friend, Zayan," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you were different."

The hallway of the college felt frozen in time. In Abrish's trembling hands was an old, leather-bound diary—its pages filled with words that burned her soul.

"You gave this to him, didn't you?" Her voice shook.

Zayan was silent for a moment, as if he knew there was no point in denying it.

"I… I had to," he finally muttered.

"Had to?" Abrish laughed bitterly, but her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "You destroyed me, Zayan."

"It wasn't like that…" Zayan started, but she cut him off.

"You handed over the one thing I trusted you with—to the very person who wanted to ruin me. You betrayed me."

Zayan exhaled deeply, as if carrying the weight of an unbearable burden. "You don't understand, Abrish… I had no choice."

"No choice?" Abrish's voice wavered between anger and heartbreak. "You gave away something that wasn't yours to give. You destroyed my trust."

Zayan closed his eyes briefly, his jaw tightening. "If I hadn't done it, then…" He hesitated, as if on the verge of revealing something crucial, but then pulled back. "Some truths are too dangerous to be uncovered, Abrish. Maybe I made the wrong choice… but at that moment, it felt like the only option."

"The only option?" Abrish almost laughed again, but the pain in her chest was suffocating. No explanation, no justification could undo the damage.

That was the day Abrish heard the sound of her heart breaking. And that was the day she changed forever.

To Be Continued ...