Chapter 4: The Proposal Plan & Betrayal Unveiled. Pakistani Romance Thriller Web Novel "Sweet Confusion" by Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury

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 drive into Tariq’s palm.

Tariq narrowed his eyes.

"What’s this?"

"Ayesha’s university file... her expulsion letter from Punjab University... from that library incident years ago. Remember?"

Tariq smiled coldly.

"Of course. The stolen book scandal. She kept it quiet — but not quiet enough. Lahore remembers everything."

The man shifted nervously.

"Bhai... this is dangerous. You told me to dig — and I did. But her family... they’re respected people. The Dhaka cousin? He’s no fool. He’ll fight for her."

Tariq’s voice turned low, dangerous.

"Let him. When these papers are ‘accidentally leaked’ to her new in-laws — no one will want her. Not Dhaka. Not Lahore. Not here. And then..."

He paused, smiling thinly.

"She’ll have no one left but me. As it was meant to be."

The man swallowed.

"You said no harm would come... that this was just a warning—"

"And so it is. Unless she fights. Unless that Bangladeshi fool stands in my way. Then... who knows? Accidents happen in Islamabad. A fall from a balcony. A slip under a car. Allah’s will, they’ll say. And I? I will mourn her... deeply."

The man shuddered.

"You are playing with fire, Tariq Bhai. If this goes wrong —"

"—Then it won’t be me who burns. It’ll be them."

A car slowed down at the far corner. Both men stiffened.

Tariq hissed, snatching the packet and tucking it beneath his arm.

"Go. Now. We will speak after Eid. After the Dhaka cousin has left... empty-handed, remember — not a word. Not even to your wife."

"And the money?"

Tariq slipped an envelope from his inner pocket. Thick. Heavy.

"Count it later. Or not at all. Your silence is worth more than rupees. Don’t make me remind you."

The man backed away, eyes wary, then turned and vanished into the dusk like a shadow swallowed by the city.

Tariq stood alone beneath the Peepal tree, smiling faintly as the last line of Magrib Azaan faded into the wind.

"Soon, my beautiful Ayesha... soon you will return, just like before. As it should have been, and no fool from Dhaka will change that."

He straightened his sherwani, took one last glance at the glowing Chowdhury house, and then slipped away into the gathering night.

Evening in Islamabad was serene — the sky was adorned in deep rose and violet as the city embraced tranquility. In his guest room, Neel paced slowly, phone pressed to his ear, his heart thudding softly against his ribs.

At last — her voice came, warm and soft — his Ammi from Dhaka.

"Neel beta? It’s late there. You sound breathless — what happened? Is everything alright?"

Neel drew a deep breath.

"Ammi... I’ve made a decision. A big one. About Ayesha."

A brief pause — as if her heart skipped a beat, sensing the gravity in his voice. "Tell me, son. What decision are you making? Speak clearly."

He smiled faintly, eyes glowing.

"I love her, Ammi. Truly. I want to propose to her tonight... properly. With your blessing. But first — you must know everything. About Tariq. About Lahore. About the threats she hides."

Her breath caught.

"What threats, Neel? What has that snake Tariq done? Tell me — every word."

And Neel told her — slowly, carefully — of the dark letter, the ugly warnings, Tariq’s past violence, and Ayesha’s silent courage.

His mother gasped softly.

"Ya Allah... and this beautiful girl bears such burdens? Alone? And you love her, truly? This is no game, Neel? Not summer love in a stranger’s land?"

"No, Ammi. I’ve never been so sure. I want her to be my wife. My partner. My life. I want your blessing before I ask her. Tonight. After dinner. On the balcony."

Silence stretched... then her voice, warm and certain, filled his ear.

"Take her hand, my son. Bring her home. Let this old heart of mine love a daughter at last. You have my blessing, beta."A thousand times. But be careful, as Tariq won't take this lightly."

Neel smiled, his chest light with joy.

"Thank you, Ammi. You’ve made me strong. You’ll meet her soon — I promise. After this trip... everything will change."

"InshAllah. But guard your heart, my son. And hers. Danger walks quietly in beautiful cities."

The call ended. Neel sat for a moment in the quiet, breath steadying, heart calm. Tonight... tonight he would ask Ayesha to be his forever.

He reached for the small velvet box in his bag — the simple gold ring gleaming inside.

"Soon... Ayesha... soon."

8:00 PM — Chowdhury House, Islamabad

The dinner table was warm, full of laughter, and the scent of spiced chicken and butter naan. Ayesha served quietly, her eyes meeting Neel’s now and then — curious, soft, wondering.

Her mother smiled.

"Ayesha, sit — enough serving. Neel beta — eat more, you’re too thin! In Dhaka, they don’t feed you properly, hmm?"

Neel laughed, heart light, but his eyes never left Ayesha.

Soon... soon.

But just then — a sudden knock at the door.

Mr. Chowdhury frowned.

"Who comes at this hour? Strange... servant, check."

The servant opened the front door.

Gasps.

Tariq stood there — dressed sharply, smug, holding a folded paper in his hand.

"Good evening, Uncle. Auntie. Apologies for the hour... but I thought the family should see this. Important news."

He strolled in boldly, ignoring Neel’s darkening stare.

"Ayesha... my dear... I warned you, didn’t I? That secrets have a way of walking into the light."

He unfolded the paper slowly — holding it high.

"This... dear family... is Ayesha’s expulsion letter. From Punjab University. Dated two years ago. Caught stealing rare books from the library. Suspended — in shame. But hidden from you all. Until now."

A hush.

Ayesha gasped, face drained.

"That’s a lie! A filthy lie! I borrowed that book for a professor — I returned it — I was blamed falsely—!"

Tariq smiled cruelly.

"Proof, my dear. Cold proof. What will your Dhaka prince think now, hmm? Still ready to propose to such... disgrace?"

Neel rose, fists clenched.

"Get out, Tariq. Now. Before I forget this is a family house. Take your poison elsewhere."

Tariq chuckled, waving the paper.

“Truth is truth, Neel bhai. You may love her, but Dhaka society and Lahore society won’t forgive this. Neither the neighbors nor the elders will. Think carefully: Is this the wife you want?”

Ayesha’s father stood, face pale.

"Enough! Leave our house! You bring old dirt like a beggar seeking coins! We stand by our daughter. All of us. Now go!"

Tariq gave a low bow.

"As you wish, Uncle. But the truth... always returns. Sooner or later. Good night."

He left — his laugh echoing down the corridor.

Silence reigned.

Then Neel gently took Ayesha’s trembling hand.

"I don’t care. Not for that paper. Not for Lahore’s gossip. I believe you, Ayesha. I always will. Nothing has changed. My proposal stands... tonight... if you will still have me."

Her eyes filled with tears — but a soft smile broke through.

"You would still want me... after this? After the shame they throw at me?"

Neel lifted her hand to his lips.

"Forever. If you let me."

A small tear traced down her cheek.

Her mother wept softly behind her.

And Ayesha whispered:

"Yes, Neel. Yes... I will."

But outside, on the quiet street, Tariq stood by his car with his phone pressed to his ear.

"It failed tonight. But no matter. Tomorrow... the real game begins."

His shadow vanished into the darkness.

To Be Continued...

Romance Thriller Web Novel "Sweet Confusion" by Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury.

Copyright - Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury.