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Chapter 4: The Proposal Plan & Betrayal Unveiled. The Magrib Azaan echoed softly across Islamabad’s peaceful lanes. In the Chowdhury household, the family was preparing for prayer — slippers slipping off quietly, heads bowed, prayer mats spread across the marble floor. But Tariq was not there. He stood under the tall shadow of a Peepal tree at the quiet end of the street, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his dark sherwani, eyes flicking left and right. A low voice behind him broke the silence. "Punctual as ever, Tariq Bhai. Or should I say... desperate?" Tariq turned sharply. "You’re late. I told you Magrib Salah would clear the street. I don’t have time for your swagger. Did you bring it?" The figure emerged from the darkness—a thin, bearded man with a nervous demeanor, clutching a brown packet tightly under his arm. "As you asked... all the papers. Original copies. Lahore court decisions... gossip reports... and this." He slipped a small USB d...

Chapter 3: Truths, Letters & Pasta The morning light filtered softly through the sitting room window. It was quiet except for the gentle rustle of newspapers and the occasional clink of teacups. Neel stood near the doorway, glancing toward Ayesha’s father, Mr. Chowdhury, who sat absorbed in the editorial page. He cleared his throat softly. "Uncle... may I speak with you? Privately?" Mr. Chowdhury looked up over his glasses, folding the paper slowly. "Of course, beta. Come... sit. You seem troubled. Something on your mind?" Neel sat carefully across from him, fingers lacing nervously. He hesitated. "It’s... about Ayesha. And Tariq. About what happened in Lahore." A long silence. Mr. Chowdhury sighed deeply, setting his paper aside. "So... the past rises again. I wondered how long it would stay buried. What did Tariq tell you, Neel?" Neel’s eyes were steady. "He implied Ayesha left him because she could not accept... certain things that ...