The Same Traveller

2025

The weather today was breathtakingly beautiful, but to him, as always, it felt absolutely miserable. At this moment, his forehead was creased with what seemed like more than a hundred frown lines. Scowling, he glanced through the rearview mirror at the people sitting in the back seat his very own family.

His eyes fell first upon his sister-in-law, who was engrossed in telling a story to her five-year-old son, Aahil. Then, his gaze shifted to his mother, who looked exceptionally radiant and happy today. Finally, his eyes rested on his father, who sat alone in the very last empty seat of the car, seemingly lost in the passing scenery outside.

“What beautiful weather we have today...!” It was the voice of his elder brother, sitting in the passenger seat beside him. Huzaifa turned his neck slightly to look at him. Today, everyone was traveling from Lahore to Sheikhupura to see a potential bride for him. Yet, Mr. Huzaifa seemed intensely miserable at this moment. The reason...? He did not want to get married right now or perhaps, he did not want to get married at all.

“I don’t think it’s anything special...!” he retorted bitterly, earning a sharp, angry glare from Mrs. Malik.

“Of course, why would you like it? You just want to die a bachelor...!” she said, her voice now filled with a mix of resentment and anger. At his mother’s words, Huzaifa let out a cold sigh.

“Who knows when this boy will finally get over the ghost of that unfaithful girl...!” It was impossible to silence Mrs. Malik now.

“That’s enough, Ammi... he will get annoyed...!” This was Saba Bhabhi, speaking up in support of her favorite brother-in-law.

“Why should my words annoy him, Saba? He is annoyed all the time anyway...!” She seemed ready to unleash a whole new list of grievances. “Just look at him right now see how his forehead is creased? There are so many wrinkles that I can’t even count them...!” At her words, Saba looked through the rearview mirror at Huzaifa sitting in the driving seat, whose lips were twisting into a sarcastic smirk as if thanking his sister-in-law. The poor woman felt a wave of slight embarrassment.

“If you refuse the proposal this time, Huzaifa Malik, you will see my dead face...!” She was right in the middle of emotionally blackmailing him, but her esteemed husband felt it was his absolute duty to make an entry at the worst possible moment.

“But my dear, you said the exact same thing for the last proposal too...!” Hearing his father’s voice, a suppressed smile tugged at Huzaifa’s lips. The rest of the family burst into laughter right along with him everyone except the man’s own wife. Alas, a single sharp glare from his lady wife completely deflated him, silencing him instantly. He knew all too well that if he uttered another word now, he would be martyred right here in the middle of the journey.

“I am telling you, I am absolutely serious this time! It is not easy to find a proposal from such a lovely girl,” she started up all over again. “God bless Fariha... it was on her phone that I saw the pictures of her friend, Sabiha...!”

Fariha Hussain lived in the house right next door to the Malik residence and visited them quite often. The mere mention of Sabiha’s name left a bitter taste in Huzaifa’s mouth. How on earth was he supposed to refuse to marry this girl? The problem was that this alliance came through their neighbors’ connections, and it was Huzaifa’s own mother who had actively sought it out. This particular nightmare named Sabiha had caught her fancy a bit too much. Ever since she laid eyes on those pictures on Fariha’s phone, she had made Huzaifa’s life a living hell. Mrs. Malik had even forwarded the pictures to him... but without so much as glancing at them, he had deleted the entire folder.

Huzaifa was their youngest, most spoiled son, and an incredibly high-maintenance one at that. His anger was always on a hair-trigger, and ever since that girl had betrayed him, he had become significantly more irritable. No one knew who she was, where she lived, or what the whole story even was. All they knew was that Huzaifa had liked some girl, but she turned out to be unfaithful end of story.

At first, it was hard for the family to process that Huzaifa could even like a girl, considering he was painfully shy and kept strictly to himself. He rarely spoke to anyone, and he had only one friend, Ayan Mahboob. Even that friendship wasn’t Huzaifa’s doing; it was all thanks to Ayan, who was a genuinely warm and affable guy. Ayan was the only person who knew the full story, but he had tightly held his tongue too. It had been two years since that girl walked out of Huzaifa’s life, yet he still rejected every single marriage proposal that came his way, leaving Mrs. Malik thoroughly frustrated.

A heavy silence had settled over the car when Mrs. Malik spoke up once more. “Huzaifa Malik...! Don’t you dare sit there brooding with a long face when we arrive...!” At her words, Huzaifa rolled his eyes and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. Whenever she was genuinely upset with him, she always addressed him by his full name.

It was a Sunday, so the crowds on the road were much denser than on ordinary weekdays. Leaving the city limits of Lahore behind, the car finally hit the motorway. It was midday, but the sunlight lacked that harsh glare that stings the eyes. The sun hung in the sky, scattering a soft, golden glow, while a strange, gentle warmth seemed to dissolve into the air. The black Toyota Fortuner was tearing down the road. A journey that should have taken an hour or an hour and a half was now going to be wrapped up in barely thirty minutes. Yet, his mind was racing even faster than the Fortuner sprinting along the highway. How on earth was he going to escape this marriage proposal...?

None of the previous proposals had come through people they actually knew, and most importantly, this was the very first time Mrs. Malik herself had initiated the match. Mr. Hussain was an excellent neighbor, and this alliance belonged to his beloved daughter’s best friend. He was speaking of the very girl Huzaifa’s own mother adored, a girl she might have even made Huzaifa’s bride except everyone knew Ayan liked her. And Huzaifa...? He had only ever seen Fariha as a sister.

The hustle and bustle of Lahore had faded into the background, and Sheikhupura was still some distance away. The vehicle moved forward at a steady pace, as if carrying time itself along. The scenery outside was serene... yet inside the car, the state of each heart whispered a completely different story. Who knew what today would bring...?

This was the Khan House, and at this moment, it was in a state of absolute chaos. Somewhere, a servant was running past, while elsewhere, Mrs. Khan was scolding her husband even more than the maids mostly because he had managed to stain his brand-new suit right after getting dressed. A mouth-watering, provocative aroma was wafting from the kitchen, and out in the yard, a gardener was busy sprucing up the lawn.

And her...?

She was casually wandering all over the house with some sort of face mask smeared across her face. They were coming to see her today, so naturally, the preparations had to be in full swing. They had called just twenty-five minutes ago to say they had hit the road, which meant they still had about half an hour before arrival. After all, the usual travel time from Lahore to Sheikhupura was an hour. Little did anyone’s angels know, however, that Mr. Huzaifa was practically flying his Fortuner down the highway.

“Sabiha...!” Wandering on the terrace, she peeked back into the room upon hearing her mother’s voice, who was standing at the doorway, calling out to her.

“Yes, Ammi...!” she replied, remaining right at the threshold of the terrace as she looked at her mother.

“That dirty water I gave you... did you throw it away...?” Today was the only day her mother had actually assigned her a single task. In fact, when did she ever do any housework anyway...? Her only real hobby was cooking, and even that was strictly whenever she felt like it which happened maybe once in a blue moon. But whenever the mood did strike her, the entire household ended up treated to a massive feast.

Her eyes drifted to a corner of the terrace, where the bucket of dirty water still sat in its exact spot, standing as a silent testament to her disobedience. When she looked back up, her mother was still staring at her with eyes that demanded an answer. This water belonged to the miniature greenhouse setup she had installed on her terrace a tiny kingdom of plants and climbing vines. Queen Sabiha had dismissed the maid from her room earlier today, claiming the woman was disturbing her sleep. So now, performing this chore had fallen squarely on her own shoulders.

“Yes, Ammi... I threw it away...!” Her heart kept telling her that the moment her mother left the room, she would rush over and dump the water. But Mrs. Khan, having wrapped up all her chores today, seemed determined to set up camp right here in her room. Sabiha stood there for a few moments, silently watching her mother, who had now comfortably settled down on the bed.

“Goodness... go get ready now...! Or do you plan on keeping this face mask on the entire time...?” she scolded, looking at Sabiha who was still lingering on the terrace. Before Sabiha could offer an excuse, the voices of the servants started echoing from downstairs. It sounded like someone had arrived.

“What is going on with them...? Let me go check... and Sabiha, you get dressed this very minute so you aren’t caught off guard when they arrive don’t come crying to me later if you get a scolding!” The words had barely left her mother’s mouth as she exited the room when Sabiha darted like an arrow toward the bucket of dirty water sitting on the terrace. She scooped it up and turned around, intending to dump it safely in the bathroom, but fate clearly had other plans. It was Mrs. Khan again coming towards her room...!

Hearing her mother’s footsteps heading back toward the room, panic took over. With no time to think, Sabiha tipped the bucket and hurled the water straight down from the terrace. Little did the innocent soul know, however, that right downstairs Mr. Huzaifa Malik stood who is "the high-maintenance emperor of his own kingdom" double-checking the house address at that exact second.

And the poor guy, already nursing a thoroughly rotten mood, had just stepped out of the car to check the address. Turning around with a rare smile, he had literally just uttered the words, “Yes, this is the right address...!” It was perhaps the very first time he had smiled all day, but the ruthless Sabiha simply couldn’t bear to let his happiness last. The entire family was looking right at him as he turned to speak to them when someone drenched him with water. And dirty water, at that...! Tsk, tsk, tsk.

The faint smile that had just graced his lips froze completely. What a welcome... brilliant! While Huzaifa stood there paralyzed, his family members were left with their jaws dropping open in sheer disbelief. What was the poor guy’s fault anyway...? Only that in this tiny world, he always walked around scowling with a creased forehead.

Up above, Sabiha stood with her mouth wide open, the very picture of absolute shock. Trying to rein in his exploding temper, Huzaifa attempted to look up, but his eyes failed to catch a glimpse of his attacker’s face. The reason? Some mask-like entity had slipped straight down and landed right over his eyes. Infuriated, he ripped the mask off, flung it to the ground, and glared upward. The girl, who had been peering down with the bucket still in her hands, sensed the imminent danger. Before he could lock eyes with her, she dropped the bucket down too. Now, the bucket flew down to plant a solid kiss right on Mr. Huzaifa’s face. He was utterly unprepared for this sudden secondary assault, and a faint groan escaped his lips as his hand flew up to clutch his head. After surviving such a ruthless onslaught, holding his aching forehead was the absolute least he could do. Seeing this brutal tyranny unleashed upon their sole soldier, the residents of the Malik House finally came charging out of the car.

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Khan rushed out onto the terrace to join her daughter. Sabiha, who was standing there with both hands pressed over her mouth, froze in terror at the sight of her mother, who was glaring at her as if she might swallow her whole. Before the crowd downstairs could look up and spot her, Mrs. Khan dragged her forcefully back inside the room not forgetting to land a solid smack across her back as she did.

“What on earth am I supposed to do with you, Sabiha? Is there a single thing you can manage to do right...?!” Sabiha just stood there silently, puckering her face into a tearful, whimpering expression. It wasn’t like she intentionally caused these disasters; she had absolutely no idea how they just seemed to happen all on their own.

They were all seated in the guest room now, wrapped in a heavy silence the kind of silence that carries far more weight than words ever could. Every few minutes, a maid would enter, delicately placing one refreshment after another onto the beautiful glass table before slipping away on quiet, tiptoes. The guest room itself was exquisitely beautiful spacious, bright, and meticulously arranged. Elegant paintings with gilded gold frames adorned the light cream walls, displaying intricate calligraphy in one spot and a serene landscape in another. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling cast a soft, warm amber glow, enveloping the room in a gentle luminescence.

A deep-toned Persian carpet covered the floor, its intricate motifs lending an air of dignity to the atmosphere. The couches were upholstered in plush velvet fabrics of deep navy and charcoal gray, with cushions arranged in such perfect order as if they had been carefully preserved just for special guests. In a corner of the room, a tall planter stood with a leafy green plant quietly asserting its presence. Whenever the curtains on the windows swayed slightly in the gentle breeze, the outdoor sunlight would peek into the room. A subtle fragrance of attar perhaps oud or lavender hung in the air, making the environment feel even more sophisticated and formal. Everything was entirely in its right place, beautifully manicured, and dignified... yet the silence sitting in this decorated room was the most prominent feature of all. It felt as though even the walls were waiting to see who would utter the next line.

Amidst everyone, he sat there too... tight-lipped, but completely restless on the inside. He had already taken off his black jacket, which by now had grown heavy and soaked through. The hosts of Khan House were deeply mortified by what had transpired outside. Mrs. Khan was repeatedly offering explanations, insisting it was undoubtedly the mistake of a clumsy new maid who was entirely unaware of the etiquettes of hosting guests. However, Huzaifa was clever enough to know that this was no maid. After all, what kind of maid wanders around with a face mask smeared on her face right before the arrival of guests...?

He had handed his jacket over to a servant before heading off to freshen up. Now that he was back, he sat composedly on the sofa. His black hair was still slightly damp, as if the moisture from the water had darkened its deep tone even further. A few unruly strands clung to his forehead, and he hadn’t even bothered to brush them away.

It was the month of March. There was a pleasant chill in the air, but not the kind of piercing cold that bites. Thank goodness it wasn’t January or February, otherwise the effect of the wet clothes would have been far more obvious. Right now, he was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and black trousers simple yet dignified. He had already neatly rolled his shirt sleeves up to his wrists, and his collar was perfectly straight. His serious eyes and balanced demeanor made him look all the more handsome.

On the outside, he appeared perfectly calm... but his heart was restless. Who knew why...?

“This fragrance...! What is it...?” Saba asked, looking over at Mrs. Khan, who was currently busy evaluating Huzaifa. Meeting Saba’s gaze, Mrs. Khan smiled and spoke in a gentle, warm tone, “It’s lavender... Sabiha absolutely adores it...!” Hearing this, Huzaifa looked up at her in surprise. Curiously enough, she(the girl he loved) loved lavender too.

“You arrived quite early... otherwise, it usually takes a good hour to travel from Lahore to Sheikhupura...!” Suhail Khan remarked, turning his gaze toward Abrar Malik, who was seated right beside him.

“Well, what can I say, Khan Sahib... Huzaifa’s driving is excellent, which is why we made it so quickly...!” A faint hint of pride laced his father’s tone. At this, Suhail Khan cast an appreciative look toward Huzaifa, who chose to respond with nothing more than a polite nod.

“Oh come on, Abbu, it’s not Huzaifa’s talent at all... it’s the magic of his Fortuner...!” Zayan Malik chimed in with a laugh, instantly dissolving the serious atmosphere of the room into playful banter. The formal silence that had enveloped the room just moments ago gave way to muffled chuckles. Even a smile graced Mrs. Khan’s lips. Huzaifa shot a fleeting glance at his brother, as if subtly telling him what a grand way that was to give a compliment...

“Well, young man, it seems you have quite a passion for cars...” Suhail Khan asked, fixing his gaze on Huzaifa. Huzaifa, who had been staring down at his boots, raised his eyes to look at his future father-in-law. His face carried that same solemn expression, his eyes hinting at a slight reluctance... or perhaps, simple indifference.

“Yes, Uncle...!” A brief reply, spoken in a low voice. No detailed display of interest, no expression of enthusiasm. Just a single word enough to keep the conversation going, but entirely inadequate to reveal the true state of his heart. Within moments, the brief playfulness in the air receded, blending back into a formal solemnity. Everyone sat in their respective places in silence when a soft sound echoed near the door, and she walked in.

The shade of light blue seemed custom-made just for her. She wore a neatly tailored shirt that fell perfectly just a bit above her feet. A silky veil rested lightly upon her head. She was a girl of a golden-wheat complexion, capable of effortlessly outshining every beautiful face in the room and perhaps, she was doing just that. Everyone’s eyes were fixed upon her except Huzaifa’s, yet he could clearly hear the gentle chiming of her bangles. She was undoubtedly fixing the flow of her drifting dubatta. The fragrance of lavender in the room grew richer and more deeply infused than before. Huzaifa felt a strange sensation; he recognized this fragrance all too well. His heart began to beat in a peculiar pattern, its rhythm shifting entirely, and he did not like this one bit.

This was not right. He was seated on a single-seater sofa, and Sabiha had been given a spot to sit directly across from him. Huzaifa’s face was still turned downward. But this aroma... this intimately familiar scent was making him incredibly restless. Finally, he slowly raised his eyes to look ahead, and he froze instantly. It was as if time itself had ground to a halt. It felt as though the blood circulating through his veins had stopped for a split second. The very life seemed to be draining from his body. Was this girl staggeringly beautiful, or did it just appear that way to him...? He could hear the thumping of his own heartbeat ringing clearly in his ears.

But her name was Abiha, wasn’t it...? Then who was Sabiha...? His head began to spin, and he just stared at her in utter disbelief. What someone was asking Sabiha, or how she laughed as she replied, made absolutely no sense to him anymore. What on earth was happening here...? Was this some kind of a joke...? This girl had made a fool out of him, and now she was sitting here so comfortably, laughing away. This was the exact same betrayer.

The sheer intensity with which Huzaifa’s eyes were locked onto her did not escape Zayan’s notice. He immediately intervened before anyone else could catch on to this extraordinary tension because Huzaifa was staring at her like a madman.

“Huzaifa, do you want to ask Sabiha anything...?” Hearing his brother’s voice, he jolted back to reality. Everyone’s attention was now directed toward him, except for that ruthless girl. She kept her gaze demurely lowered. Huzaifa looked first at his brother and then at the destroyer of his soul sitting right across from him. What a breathtakingly beautiful assassin she was... that was the only thought he could muster.

“No, Bhai... I don’t have anything to ask her...!” His deep, heavy voice sent a ripple through the silent room. The girl who had been sitting with her eyes cast down looked up at him in a thousandth of a second the moment she heard his voice. Due to the sharp movement of her head, the traditional jhumka earrings she wore swayed back and forth like pendulums. He was watching her with an intense, penetrating gaze. And then, their eyes collided. Sabiha’s eyes held nothing but shock boundless, overwhelming shock...!

Huzaifa...! So, was this the very same Huzaifa who had betrayed her? Stunned, Sabiha sat staring at the darkest chapter of her life sitting right across from her. The exact same dark chapter that had abandoned her... and how difficult it had been for her to gather the pieces of her broken self afterward. And look at him today sitting right here, having come to ask for her hand in marriage.

“Well, we had already taken a liking to the girl... please tell us, Did you like Huzaifa...?” This question came from Mrs. Malik. Her tone was polite, yet the underlying anxiety of a mother was clearly visible in her eyes.

At this, she, who was still desperately trying to gather her scattered emotions, suddenly felt as though drawing a single breath had become an arduous test. She slowly intertwined her fingers, her hand instinctively gripping the edge of her veil, while her parents were busy singing praises of Huzaifa. They expressed that they genuinely liked the boy, though they would naturally prefer to speak with their daughter in private before giving a final answer. There was elegance in their tone and dignity in their words. Everything was highly appropriate, highly traditional.

Amidst all of this, Sabiha could still feel his unyielding gaze boring into her. She was trying to converse with Saba, while he sat directly across from her with one leg crossed over the other, leisurely resting his clenched fist against his lips as he evaluated her. Sabiha subtly tried to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, as if attempting to steady herself. Her intention was to steal a quick glance to see if he was still staring at her or not. But he already knew this habit of hers all too well. The moment her eyelashes fluttered upward, she found him waiting for her gaze. The formal chatter resumed in the room, but between the two of them, a silent dialogue was underway incomplete and bitter... This little movement of hers brought a fleeting, mocking smirk to Huzaifa’s face, leaving Sabiha inwardly cursing herself.

“I genuinely liked those people...!” Mrs. Khan remarked to her husband, her tone filled with satisfaction. Before leaving, Mr. Malik and his wife had made it explicitly clear that they absolutely adored Sabiha and would eagerly await their final response.

“Yes, even when we visited their home back then... they seemed highly cultured and refined,” Mr. Khan replied to his wife. It was the gentle hour of twilight. The fading evening light filtered through the lounge windows, casting a soft golden hue upon the curtains. The three of them sat around the tea table. On the surface, the atmosphere was perfectly serene, but there was one heart in that room where peace was nowhere to be found. First of all, it was incredibly hard to digest the fact that this Huzaifa... was the exact same Huzaifa she had met two years ago on the Orange Line train in Lahore. The very man who had betrayed her. And today... that same person had walked into her home with a marriage proposal.

“Ammi, don’t you think you all are rushing into this a bit too fast...?” She seemed consumed by her own thoughts. She spoke while tracing her finger along the rim of her teacup. Her voice carried a faint gravity, and perhaps a suppressed restlessness that she couldn’t quite articulate into words. Mrs. Khan looked at her in surprise, and Suhail Khan seemed equally taken aback.

“No, beta, I don’t think so...!” it was Suhail Khan who spoke to his daughter. “When we visited their home, we did a thorough background check...” He had placed his cup down on the table now. “Huzaifa is a good boy...” The mere mention of his name turned Sabiha’s heart sour, making her sweet tea taste utterly tasteless.

“And he has his own well-established family business...!” Mrs. Khan chimed in, having taken an extraordinary liking to this alliance. “Besides, you were the one who asked to be given some time after graduation...!” She paused to read her daughter’s expressions. “We gave you your time, and we invited this proposal only after securing your own consent...!” She placed her hand over her daughter’s, her grip warm and gentle.

“If there is someone else you like, just tell us beta...!” Suhail Khan expressed his concern.

“No, Abbu...! There is nothing like that...!” she blurted out instantly, perhaps a little too quickly. “I have no issue with this proposal...!” She suddenly forced a bright smile onto her face and spoke.

“If you all like this match, then I like it too...!” She reassured them with a smile. Mrs. Khan practically beamed with pure joy, and a satisfied smile graced Suhail Khan’s lips as well. But Sabiha...? She quietly picked up her cup to take the final sip of her tea, which had gone cold by now. It felt as though she were swallowing a heavy, bitter verdict. Evening was dissolving into the night. The birds had returned to their nests, and the reign of silence was beginning to grow deeper.

“Yes, yes... this is such wonderful news...!” Mrs. Malik’s voice brimmed with pure joy. She was talking on the phone with her family gathered tightly around her, looking as though a historic verdict was about to be delivered. Every single eye was fixed on her face except for those of the emperor of that high-maintenance kingdom. He sat a little further away, completely convinced that the answer would be a flat refusal. After all, that was the only reason he had reluctantly agreed with a half-hearted “yes” to his mother’s nagging; he was certain the matter would end right there on its own. Little did he know what an unpredictable game destiny was playing with him.

He remained seated right there while Mrs. Malik conversed on the phone. On the surface, he was busy scrolling through his mobile screen, pretending to be completely indifferent. Yet, the reality was quite the opposite. Putting the full power of his hearing to use, he could catch snippets of the conversation. His heart was secretly wishing for them to say yes to the marriage proposal, but what about this massive, two-marla high tower of ego...? What was to happen to that?

“So, can we consider the match settled then...?” Mrs. Malik asked, concealing her growing smile as she looked around at everyone and gestured with her eyes to keep their voices down. Huzaifa who had been putting on a stellar performance of using his phone now skewed his eyes along with his ears to spy on her. After a few moments, Mrs. Malik hung up the phone and looked back at her family, holding her gaze for a while. Everyone’s eyes were filled with restless anticipation. By now, even he had gotten up and moved closer to the group.

“They said yes...!” As her enthusiastic voice echoed, the entire room erupted in celebration. Zayan lunged forward to wrap him in a tight hug, while Saba laughingly pinched his cheeks. But he, on the other hand, felt as though he had been plunged into an ocean of sheer disbelief. It felt as if someone had suddenly pulled the ground out from right under his feet. His mother kissed his forehead while his father gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Voices, congratulations, and laughter whirled all around him. And then, a few moments later, a faint, subtle smirk brushed past his lips for some inexplicable reason. So, she was finally back in his life...! What was going to happen next...? He had no idea...! But he felt certain about one thing: he was going to teach her a lesson, or so he thought.