𖥻﹕𝖥𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖮𝗇𝖾𝗌﹒ຯ - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

A few days had passed after the announcement, and admission test results were out. It was finally the day when both Fahmid and Afreen were going to start their new beginnings. Yes, fate played again, and both of their starting days fell on the same day.
The morning sunlight streamed softly through the French windows of the Bilal household, falling like golden silk across the white marbled floors. In the grand living room, the family had gathered—not out of custom, but reverence.
It was not just another morning. It was the day Fahmid would step into his father's shoes... no longer the soldier-in-training, no longer the boy chasing something larger than himself—but the man entrusted with a name, a legacy, a kingdom. Fahmid was dressed in a crisp suit, his posture composed, but his eyes carried the weight of what lay ahead.
His mother came toward him, her eyes glassy with emotions she could not voice. In her hand, she held a small glass of ¹⁵*Zamzam water and a few Ajwa dates. "Come here, son," she said softly. Fahmid stepped forward.
She recited Surah Al-Falaq and Surah An-Naas gently under her breath, her hands raised in supplication. Then she blew over his head, her palms brushing softly over his hair and shoulders—the way she always did before his exams, before every milestone that mattered.
"¹⁶*Bismillahillazi la yadurru ma'asmihi shai'un fil-ardi wala fissama'i wa Huwas-Sami'ul-'Alim." She repeated it thrice, her voice steady but tinged with emotion.
Then she offered him the Zamzam water. "Drink. May Allah keep your tongue truthful and your decisions just."
He obeyed silently. Then she pressed a date into his hand. "For ¹⁷*barakah. You'll need more than ambition, Fahmid. You'll need Allah's mercy." Sabrina reached up to fix his collar, even though it was perfect. She looked at him like only a mother could—as if she could still see the young boy hiding behind the tailored suit.
His father stood at a distance with quiet authority, yet there was the unmistakable glint of softened admiration in his eyes. "You've always been my lion, Fahmid," Hamza spoke with firmness. "But today, you'll wear the world's gaze. Don't let it change the roar of your heart.”
Fahmid gave a small nod, his jaw tense. "I won't."
"You don't need to prove anything today," Hamza said quietly. "Just remember whose son you are. And whose servant you are before that."
"Of course, Baba," he replied, his voice low. "Always."
Meanwhile, Afreen stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the soft silk of her lavender hijab, matching her purple kurti. Her university bag rested on the edge of the bed, neatly packed, but her eyes kept shifting to the small gift box in her hands.
Inside was a silver pen engraved with elegant initials: "F. B." She clutched it to her chest, then exhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves. It was not just her first day at National University of Health and Technology.
It was her Lion-ie's first day too. Fahmid, the new CEO of Bilal Industries, was stepping into his legacy. She would not miss it. Not for the world.
She quickly grabbed her bag and ran downstairs, where she witnessed the scene between Fahmid and his parents. She stood near the stairs, watching silently from a distance, her heart swelling at the sight. She did not move forward—not yet. She just watched. Watched her lion step into his arena.
Before Afreen could wish him luck or give him the gift, Fahmid had already left with his father. She pouted disappointedly, but Sabrina cheered her up and did the same with Afreen as she did with Fahmid before the young girl left the house.
The office building stood like a monument of power and elegance. Fahmid stepped out of the elevator in a charcoal suit that fit him like it was carved from his soul. His expression was unreadable, his posture perfect, and his aura undeniably commanding. Business partners, employees, board members, press, and reporters filled the lobby in muted tones and polished shoes, murmuring congratulations, flashes of cameras, and curiosity.
Afreen arrived half an hour later; her presence contrasted the sea of black suits and cold ambition. Yet, her eyes searched for only one man. Then she saw him introducing himself, promising his sheer leadership and cooperation, and answering questions here and there. His face was full of determination and sincerity.
Afreen could not help but feel her chest swell up with pride; her eyes shone with respect and love. He spotted her. Their eyes met, and for a flicker of a moment, a storm of memories raged behind his calm gaze — late-night study sessions, secret laughter in stairwells, her voice whispering encouragement through every chapter of his journey.
Soon, the crowd was clearing out, and Fahmid was heading to his current cabin before he was truly prepared for the CEO cabin. Afreen approached as he entered his cabin, the box trembling slightly in her hand.
She gulped before speaking. “I just… I wanted to be here,” she said softly. “For your first day. I didn't want you to walk in alone. You never let me start anything alone, so how could I—”
“Afreen,” he cut her off, tone flat but controlled. “You have your own first day, don’t you?”
She blinked, hurt flashing behind her smile. “Yes. I’ll be leaving in a bit. I just—”
“There’s no need,” he said coolly. “You don’t need to follow me around. I have responsibilities now. I don’t have time for… this.”
This. He did not even name it. Her lips parted slightly, the air leaving her lungs. “I see…” She whispered. “Sorry for disturbing your morning, Mr. Bilal.” She placed the gift box on the table beside him and turned before he could see the shimmer in her eyes.
Fahmid watched her walk out the glass doors. And the moment they shut behind her, his hand reached for the silver box.
Afreen stood alone near the main gate of the campus, her hijab's loose ends fluttering slightly in the breeze. New faces passed her by—some excited, some nervous. Everyone seemed to have someone with them. A friend. A parent. A sibling. Their laughter and chatter filled the courtyard, like it was the beginning of something magical.
She glanced at the gate again, a hopeful glimmer still refusing to die in her chest. He always showed up before. First day of O & A' Levels. He was there. First biology quiz. He had waited with snacks. First failure. He said nothing. Just sat beside her. His silence had meant more than a thousand words.
But that day… There was no tall frame waiting by the gates. No teasing smirk. No ‘Your Lion-ie is on patrol duty.’ Just silence. She exhaled and hugged her bag a little closer, then stepped inside.
Inside the Admin Block, the corridor was quiet except for the occasional clack of heels and the buzz of orientation prep. She followed the signs until she reached the administrative office.
“Excuse me?” She said, her voice polite but unsure.
A woman behind the desk looked up, adjusting her dress. “Yes, dear?”
“I’m a first-year student. Radiology and Imaging. I wanted to get my class schedule and… orientation room,” Afreen said softly, her voice laced with the polite hesitation of someone trying to find her place in a new world.
The woman offered a small, welcoming smile and flipped through a register. “Afreen Hadid?” She asked, glancing up from the thick pages.
Afreen nodded, clutching the strap of her bag. “Here,” the woman said, handing her a manila folder with practiced ease. “Your class routine, ID form, and room allocations are inside. Orientation will be held in Lecture Hall C in twenty minutes. First floor, left wing. You’ll meet your department head and batchmates there.”
“Thank you so much,” Afreen replied, her fingers curling gently around the folder as she gave a grateful smile.
“Congratulations. You’ve made it in. That’s the first battle won,” the woman added, her tone warm and encouraging as she returned to her register.
Afreen’s lips curved into a soft smile, though her heart still weighed heavy.
She made her way through whitewashed corridors until she reached the hall. A few students were already seated, some chatting animatedly, others scrolling through their phones. She found an empty seat in the middle row and sank into it, placing her bag quietly on the desk. More students trickled in.
A young professor entered after a while and clapped his hands lightly. “Alright everyone, before we begin orientation, let’s go around and introduce ourselves. Name, where you’re from, and one reason why you chose Radiology and Imaging.”
One by one, names filled the air. Dreams of becoming doctors, of working in diagnostic labs, of helping people in remote areas.
“I’m Shaon. From **Kashpur. I love technology, and I want to work in diagnostic imaging.”
“Farhana. **Sitakganj. I’ve always wanted to work in healthcare, but with machines!”
“My name is Arif. My brother’s a radiologist, so it runs in the family.”
Then came her turn. Afreen stood, smoothing down her long kurti. She spoke, her voice calm but clear, "Afreen Hadid,” she said softly. Her voice was calm but a little distant.
“From Shanganj. I chose Radiology and Imaging because… I want to be someone who catches things early—someone who can help others without always being at the front lines but still change the course of pain. Someone who gives reassurance through silence. Who sees what others can’t.”
Her eyes softened for just a second. “And because sometimes, the most life-saving things happen in the quietest rooms.”
A pause. The professor nodded appreciatively. “That’s quite thoughtful.” She smiled at the professor slightly before going back to her seat. There was a hush after she sat down. A respectful, thoughtful kind of hush—the kind that follows something real.
Orientation began soon after—discussions on course structure, labs, machine training modules, and rotations. Afreen took notes diligently, but her heart… Her heart still wandered back to the gate. Back to the absence of the tall figure who once stood by her side like a silent soldier.
But even in that ache, there was pride. Because both of them were starting something new—separately, for that time. But stronger.
A few hours later, on the rooftop of the Admin building. A tall figure in a tailored suit was standing, analyzing everything with his sharp eyes. “Are you sure that’s the building she’ll be attending classes in?” Fahmid asked, his voice calm and low, almost too casual. His hands rested in his pockets, sunglasses shielding his gaze as he stood like a statue against the rooftop railing.
“Yes, sir,” the security officer replied with a respectful nod. “Radiology and Imaging’s main department is here. Most of the first-year classes are scheduled in the new west wing.”
Fahmid gave a small nod in return. From where he stood, he had a clear view of the campus grounds—the cafeteria to the right, the student garden ahead, and the main academic buildings rising tall with fresh paint and banners welcoming the new batch.
Then he spotted her. Afreen. She sat on a bench beneath a neem tree, her hijab's loose ends gently rippling in the soft breeze. A folder of documents rested on her lap, her eyes quietly scanning her routine. Her posture was poised—always the disciplined one—but there was a droop to her shoulders she could not mask.
A loneliness in the way her gaze kept returning to the gate, almost as if she were still hoping…. Fahmid’s jaw clenched, and he exhaled slowly through his nose. She looked too small amidst the crowd. Too alone. “She’ll be fine,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s tougher than she thinks.”
But as he said it, his fingers absently reached into the inner pocket of his coat and wrapped around something. A pen. Her pen—the one she had left on his cabin's table that morning with unshed tears and visible sadness in her eyes that had made his heart ache in the worst ways. He did not reply to her then. He had not said much at all.
But he still carried the pen. He still stood there and was still watching. Because even if he did not walk beside her like before, even if he pretended she did not matter—his every move betrayed him.
He had already checked that the CCTV cameras on her usual paths were functional. He had confirmed that the security guards on campus had her name on priority for emergencies. And he had already spoken to the Dean’s secretary in passing, casually mentioning a ‘first-year student named Afreen Hadid’ and asking them to ‘keep an eye if she ever looked out of sorts.’
As he turned to leave, he gave the campus one last glance. “Walk steady, my Bunny,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent. “I’m not beside you… but I’ve never stopped being behind you.” Then, without another word, he disappeared down the staircase, leaving behind the warmth of the sun and a thousand unspoken promises stitched into the air.