Undying Affinity Read online

  SARA NAVEED

  Undying Affinity

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Follow Penguin

  Copyright

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  UNDYING AFFINITY

  Sara Naveed is the author of Our Story Ends Here. Originally from Pakistan, she spent her adolescent years in Sharjah, UAE. She has a master’s degree in banking and finance, and works as a content head at a software firm. She lives with her family in Lahore.

  You can follow Sara on Twitter (@SaraNaveed) and Instagram (@sara_naveed) or get in touch with her through her Facebook page (www.facebook.com/saranaveedwriter).

  And, when you want something, all the universe

  conspires in helping you to achieve it

  —Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

  A Message from Fawad Khan

  Your undying support and affection makes me feel important. Something that many die for. I’ve done little in life to deserve this, but you’ve been too gracious and kind. May I and many others learn from people like you, to appreciate others with, if not such an extent of wholesomeness, just a nod or a smile. It’s the least we can do to strive in the direction of positivity.

  I am humbled and honoured to be the subject of your writing. I wish you the best and all the success with your future endeavours.

  —Fawad Khan, actor

  Prologue

  Present

  Washington DC, US

  It was 6 a.m. when his phone started to buzz. He was sleeping on the couch next to the single bed in his daughter’s room.

  Still groggy, he almost decided to ignore it, but the buzzing was insistent, demanding.

  He checked his cell phone, squinting his eyes against the light. He seemed unsurprised to see the name of the caller. It was his father, Muraad Hussain, calling from Pakistan.

  There was a ten-hour time difference between Washington DC and Lahore, so it was 4 p.m. back in Lahore, he surmised.

  ‘Hello?’ he answered, his voice hoarse.

  ‘Ahmar,’ Muraad whispered.

  ‘Dad . . . how are you?’ He pushed the duvet aside, sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘No, son. I’m afraid not,’ Muraad answered.

  Ahmar stood up, a worried frown creased his features.

  ‘Zia Munawwar is no more,’ Muraad declared.

  A long and disturbing silence ensued. Hearing Zia Munawwar’s name, a chill swept down his spine. A blurred vision of her face came across his eyes.

  ‘How . . . how did this . . . what happened?’ Ahmar tried to gather his wits.

  ‘He died of a heart attack. I want you to come to Pakistan immediately. The funeral is scheduled for tomorrow evening so you have enough time. There was something Mr Zia wanted to confess to you,’ Muraad said.

  Ahmar was traumatized for a minute, shocked.

  ‘But Dad . . .’ his voice trailed off.

  ‘Ahmar,’ Muraad interrupted him, ‘Mrs Zia is very worried because she hasn’t come yet.’

  ‘What? Where is she?’ Ahmar asked, surprised.

  ‘Nobody knows. You have to come here. Zia wanted to talk to you but god did not give him enough time. He has left a message for you. Son, come back and resolve everything. I think it’s time.’

  Ahmar hung up abruptly, without answering. He was not sure what he was going to do. In Lahore, Muraad put down the receiver with satisfaction, unfazed by his son’s behaviour. He knew he would do the right thing.

  As Ahmar got up from the couch, his phone fell on the floor. The sound woke up the little girl lying on the bed.

  ‘What happened, Papa? Why were you sleeping on the couch?’ she whispered.

  ‘Nothing, my love. I was tired. Just go back to sleep, okay? There’s still time before school. I’ll wake you up at 8 a.m.’ He stroked her hair. She sighed and went back to sleep.

  On his way to the university, where he worked, Ahmar called his agent to book a round-trip ticket to Lahore. Then he called his sister, Samira, who also lived in Washington. Ahmar wanted to drop his daughter at her place.

  ‘You don’t have to go, Ahmar. You’ve already suffered a lot,’ Samira said.

  ‘I have to. I want to know what is still left for me. Zia Munawwar wanted to say something to me,’ he said.

  ‘But he’s no more,’ Samira said.

  ‘Yes, but he has left a message.’

  Samira sighed heavily.

  ‘Please take care of my daughter. I’ll be back soon,’ he said, hanging up the phone.

  A Few Years Ago

  Lahore, Pakistan

  Summer had set in early that year, and mornings were already hot and humid. Zarish was in a hurry as it was her first day at the university, and she didn’t want to be late. But by the time she got ready and left, Canal Road was already choked. The sidewalks were teeming with beggars, pedestrians and people hurrying to work. Sometimes, she wished the city was not so crowded. Lahore was culturally rich and was known for its Victorian and religious architecture, but rapid urbanization had spoilt it. She was glad she lived in a posh suburb, D.H.A. She had two brothers, Zohaib and Zahaan, and was the youngest of the three. Zohaib lived in Canada with his wife and two children. Zahaan lived with them and took care of the real estate business with their father, Zia Munawwar. Zarish’s mother, Zarina, wanted to get her second son married, but Zahaan was not ready for such a commitment.

  She sat in her car, lost in thought, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She regretted wearing her new dark pink khadi kurta.

  ‘What is wrong with the AC, Sikander?’ she asked the driver.

  Sikander shook his head and remained quiet.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not working. I have to get it repaired,’ he said in a low, embarrassed voice.

  ‘What? Did you know that it was not working before I got into the car?’ she asked.

  He did not respond.

  ‘I am asking something, dammit! Answer me!’ she screamed.

  ‘Yes, Madam,’ he answered.

  ‘God, damn you!’ she mumbled furiously.

  She dialled a number, but no one answered.

  ‘Why is he not taking my call?’ she said loudly.

  The car slowed down at a traffic signal, and she rolled down the window to get some fresh air.

  Right then, her phone rang, breaking her reverie.

  ‘Haroon, where the hell are you? Why didn’t you answer my call earlier?’ she asked.

  ‘Ok, now tell me, which question should I answer first?’ he asked, giggling.

  ‘Shut up. I am serious. When are you reaching the university?’

  ‘I am on my way. Can’t you wait . . . you stubborn woman?’

  ‘Ugh. I don’t want to listen to your crap. See you at the university!’

  Sometimes Haroon crossed the line with his silly jokes, but he was also loving and caring. Zarish and Haroon had been best friends since fifth standard. Their families had grown fond of each other too. They were always together; they had attended the sam
e school and then the same college. After graduation, Haroon didn’t want to continue studying. However, Zarish had changed his mind. She had forced him to apply for his master’s degree at the university. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that they could not live without each other. They shared every secret. She could never lie to him, and he could never lie to her. He was her sole male friend. He was the only person with whom she felt comfortable. She could express joy with him, cry along with him, and fight with him. Their friends and family members believed they were more than just friends. However, they always rubbished it as rumours. Haroon secretly loved her but never told her. However, Zarish had no such feelings.

  After reaching the university, she tried Haroon’s number again. He was always late.

  ‘What’s wrong now?’ he answered.

  ‘I have reached. Where are you?’

  ‘I said I’m on my way.’

  ‘Everyone is here, Haroon!’

  Suddenly, someone grabbed her shoulder from behind. She turned around to find Haroon grinning at her.

  ‘Woah! Why didn’t you tell me you were here?’ she said and pummelled him with her fists.

  ‘You know I love teasing you,’ he said, gently stroking her nose with his thumb.

  ‘Can we go now, please?’ she asked.

  He nodded joyfully.

  On their way to the seminar hall, she looked at Haroon. He was extremely good-looking, with caramel brown hair and light brown eyes. ‘The girls will go bananas over him,’ she thought.

  Her friends always teased her about their relationship. They often wondered how she could not fall in love with someone as perfect as Haroon. Zarish didn’t know either. She had never fallen in love. For her, love only existed in movies and books.

  Half the seats were already taken when Zarish and Haroon entered the seminar room. They somehow managed to find two chairs, and settled down.

  The dean of the university, Faris Ahmed, stepped on to the stage. One by one, he introduced the faculty members. In the end, one more person was requested to come to the stage—Muraad Hussain—the trustee of the university. With exceptional experience in the education sector, he had devoted himself to the betterment of the institute. He was deeply respected by everyone, teachers and students alike. He had a great sense of humour, and his speech had the audience in stitches.

  Haroon was not interested in listening to the speech. He held Zarish’s hand and led her out of the room.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Haroon? This orientation ceremony is really important for us.’

  Haroon rolled his eyes, showing disinterest.

  ‘Fine . . . not for us. But at least for me!’

  ‘No, I don’t think this speech is important.’ He held her arm tightly. ‘Let’s go! I’m hungry!’

  ‘Fine, let’s go!’ Zarish said irritably.

  Haroon gave her a crooked smile as they walked towards the cafeteria.

  The rest of the day was uneventful. Zarish got back home in the evening. She took off her heels as soon as she entered her room. She was just getting ready to sleep when her mother came in.

  ‘How was your first day at the university?’ her mother asked.

  ‘It was okay. A bit tiring,’ Zarish answered and yawned.

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’

  ‘No, I’m not hungry. I just want to get some sleep,’ Zarish said.

  ‘Okay, I’ll let you rest then.’ She kissed her forehead, put the quilt over her and switched off the light.

  Right then, Zarish’s cell phone vibrated. It was her friend Ameena.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey Zarish, Ameena here. What’s up?’

  ‘Oh, hi. Nothing much. What’s up with you?’

  ‘I have planned something for tomorrow. Do you want to join us?’ Ameena asked.

  ‘Umm, yeah sure. I’m in. When and where? And who else is going?’

  ‘Our entire girl clan. We are planning to watch a movie and get some dinner.’

  ‘Okay, I’m in,’ Zarish said excitedly. ‘It will be really nice to see you guys.’

  The next day, Zarish woke up to the smell of halwa puri. By the time she reached the dining room, the family was already at the breakfast table.

  ‘So, what have you planned for today?’ her father asked.

  ‘Well,’ she answered, taking a bite of the puri. ‘I’m going out with my friends.’

  ‘When you say your friends, you mean . . .’ Zahaan asked.

  ‘No, not Haroon. I’m going out with my school friends,’ Zarish interrupted her brother.

  ‘Hmm. Interesting,’ Zahaan said and took a sip of his coffee.

  ‘Be careful, beta. Stay safe. Our city is not politically stable,’ her father said.

  He was right. A lot had happened in 2013. Genocides and suicide bombings had become common occurrences across the country. However, unlike the other cities, Lahore was considered safe.

  Zarish’s parents had always been very protective towards her; her brothers treated her like a kid too. They took care of all her needs and bought her whatever she wished for, irrespective of the cost. Zarish loved being cosseted by her family. She was a spendthrift and could not imagine living frugally or marrying someone who didn’t earn well.

  Hers was a liberal family. Her father never imposed religion on his wife or daughter. He did not force them to wear a burka. In fact, they were free to dress as they liked. They had the freedom to live life on their own terms. Zarish could wear whatever she wanted. There were no restrictions.

  Even though her family offered prayers occasionally, fasted in the holy month of Ramadan, paid zakat, had performed hajj once when she was little, they did not follow the rules of Islam very strictly. For Zia Munawwar and his sons, offering the Friday prayer was enough to be called good Muslims.

  For the evening, she picked out a stylish orange top and wore it with her favourite denims. Zarish had a strikingly beautiful face, with big, round, almond-coloured eyes and full, luscious lips. She left her straight, long hair open and put on some light make-up.

  Her friends, Ameena, Fatima, Saniya and Tooba, came to pick her up. She had been eagerly waiting for them. All her friends came from rich families and loved spending money.

  At the restaurant, the girls ordered ice-cream shakes after their dinner.

  ‘Hey, I think that guy is staring at me,’ Fatima said.

  ‘Who?’ Zarish asked and turned her head to catch a glimpse of the person.

  ‘The guy in the white shirt. He’s sitting on your left,’ Fatima said.

  All the girls turned to check him out. He was a bit bulky and not very good-looking.

  ‘Eww. I don’t like him; he looks like a chimp,’ Zarish said and made a face.

  ‘Oh, c’mon, Zarru. He’s hot,’ Ameena said.

  ‘First, he’s not hot. Second, I’m afraid he is not even looking at you,’ Zarish said sarcastically as she sipped her ice-cream milkshake.

  ‘How can you say that?’ Ameena asked.

  ‘Because he is checking me out,’ she replied with a wink.

  ‘Oh yes. Zarish, the most beautiful girl on the planet,’ Ameena declared, making air quotes with her hands.

  ‘Of course. I am the prettiest girl, and I know it,’ Zarish said and shrugged nonchalantly.

  ‘You are obsessed with yourself, Zarish,’ Saniya joined in.

  Tooba giggled.

  ‘Why not? I know I’m beautiful and I’m proud of it. There is not a single man on this planet who can deny it. I can get anyone to woo me.’

  ‘Really?’ Saniya asked.

  Zarish nodded triumphantly.

  ‘Fine. Then let’s find out how good you are at getting a man,’ Saniya said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Zarish asked as a small frown creased her forehead.

  ‘You have to prove what you said right now,’ Saniya said. ‘You have to make a man fall in love with you.’

  ‘What?’ Zarish said, shock writ large on her face.

  ‘Wai
t,’ Saniya said. The girls exchanged confused glances. After scanning the entire restaurant, Saniya finally found a person. She asked Zarish to go and talk to the man who was sitting across from their table with his friends and convince him that he was in love with her.

  ‘What?’ Zarish’s mouth dropped open. ‘Are you crazy? I don’t even know him.’

  ‘Oh c’mon, Zarish. It shouldn’t be difficult for you. Let’s see if he falls for you. It’s a dare now,’ Saniya said.

  ‘You can do it,’ Fatima said encouragingly.

  ‘Wow. This is getting exciting,’ Tooba said, rubbing her hands together.

  ‘No way. It’s not fair!’ Zarish shook her head.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Saniya said, ‘when will you understand that life is not fair?’ She winked at Fatima and everyone started laughing.

  Zarish felt pressured. It became ‘a do or die’ situation.

  ‘We don’t have time Zarish, hurry up,’ Fatima said.

  ‘Or just say you give up. Just say you don’t have it in you,’ Ameena said and smiled wickedly.

  Zarish wasn’t a loser. After all, she had said that she could get any man to fall for her.

  ‘Get a life, girls! I don’t need to prove myself. You all know how it was in school. Boys used to fantasize about me!’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Fatima replied with sarcasm.

  ‘And Miss Saniya,’ Zarish turned towards her, ‘don’t forget that your ex-boyfriend left you because he was in love with me.’

  Saniya swore under her breath and the girls became quiet.

  ‘So, girls, better get over this crap. I’m going to get some fresh bean salad for myself,’ Zarish said and got up.

  She reverted her gaze to the table where the person in question was sitting with his friends. Wearing a dark blue polo T-shirt, he looked quite boyish. He seemed absorbed in a serious conversation.

  ‘Hey, look at that girl. She is pretty, and seems like she is staring at you,’ one of his friends commented.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

  Again, Zarish found herself looking at him. The whole situation was unnerving.