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   Chapter 2

And You became my Dawn By lailamehtaab Characters: 6830

Updated: 2017-12-05 12:07

Edited by AdibahRafhanah

Sandal“s POV:

All the way to my house, I kept thinking about Mr.Ibrar“s offer, but I didn“t manage to come to a decision. I sigh and rang the doorbell of my new home. Soon, the door was opened by Hareem.

"Assalam o Allaikum, Bajjo (big sister)." She said and stepped aside, giving me space to come inside the house.

"Walaikum Assalam! How are you? And why aren“t you resting?"

"I am fine, bajjo. Don“t worry about me. Besides, I can“t rest all day." She said, walking towards the living room and sat beside Ami (mother).

I enter the living room behind her and wrapped my arms around Ami.

"Assalam o Allaikum, Ami."

"Walaikum Assalam, Ami“s daughter. How was your interview?" Ami asked, trying to be her usual self, which she failed.

"It was great, Ami. I“ll tell you the details during dinner, okay?"

She nodded in response.

"Where is Areeba?"

"She is in the kitchen preparing for dinner."

"I“ll go help her." I kissed her cheek and walk towards the kitchen. I have to discuss this with her. She is the only one now who can give me advice.

Mr. Ibrar“s POV:

Sandal mailed me her response to the job offer this morning. She accepted it. Now the only thing remains is to talk to my troublesome nephew, Ahmed Wali. For this, I am planning to do things differently. I went to his house for dinner, knowing he would never say “no in front of his mother, who happens to be my sister. And like me, she also hates his Barbie Doll type secretaries.

I told his mother about the whole deal and she liked my idea more than I thought she would. We all know he hates middle-class people. He thinks they would do anything for money, even if it comes to selling themselves. Both my sister and I think it can be a good chance for him to change his views.

"Ahmed, I have appointed a new secretary for you. She“ll be starting tomorrow."

Ahmed opened his mouth to say something, but Zohma, his younger sister said before him, "Thank God you got rid of that Truck Art girl! I hope the new one is better than her."

"Truck Art girl?" I asked, raising my brows and Ahmed rolled his eyes.

"Yeah! That“s the nickname Zohma appi and I decided for her. Didn“t you see her dressing and the colour of her dresses? We never understood the makeup of hers too. Its like she applies the whole cosmetic shop on her face!" Said Muskan, my youngest niece, agreeing with her elder sister.

"Muskan, it wasn“t like that." Ahmed said in a bored tone. He continues, "What is her qualification, Mamo (Mother“s brother)?"

"She has done Bachelors in Management Science." I answered.

"In what?" He asked again, raising his eyebrows.

"Bachelors in Management Science. Its another term for Bachelors in Information Science. This field has many names and it“s a postgraduate course." Muskan answered his question.

"How do you know?" Ahmed asked Muskan.

"I know more things than you think, brother of mine. I am the genius of this family after all." She said with a smug look on her face and points to her nose in the air.

Zohma shook her head and say, "You just have a very good memory. I was the one who told you this information."

"Jealous....! Hmph!" Muskan mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear and we all smiled at her tone.

"Mamo, this doesn“t make sense. Why would you appoint an IT person or whatever for a secretary position?" Ahmed asked me

in a serious tone.

"I have been in this field longer than you were born, Ahmed. Trust my decision." I said, closing this topic for further discussion.

Ahmed opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He kept looking at me with a suspicious look. I ignored him and joined in the conversation of Truck Art with my nieces.


Ahmed“s POV:

"I still don“t get it. Why can“t I hire my own employees?" I asked Mamo, looking at the sea outside the glass wall.

"Its simple; to prevent our office of Truck Arts." He answered in a monotonous voice.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"You know it very well, Ahmed."

Yes, I know what he meant. He and my family never liked my choices of female employees because they are........ different? Yeah, that“s right, they are different ...... in a way.

“Truck Art“

Muskan“s voice echoes in my head and made me smile.

She is so different from me and Zohma, we both don“t talk as much as her and she doesn“t know how to keep her mouth shut. Zohma is not a quiet person too, but she knows what to say and when to say. She got even more mature after her engagement. This year after her MA exams, she will get married. It“s amazing how fast time flies. It feels as though it was just yesterday when we settled in Karachi.

I shut my eyes tight, to stop myself from remembering things further. I sighed in relief when I heard a knock on the door.

"Come in." Mamo said and I turn towards the door.

A girl came in wearing a black scarf and dupatta with a Maroon coloured long shirt and blue skinny jeans.

"Assalam o Allaikum." She said in a low voice.

"Wallaikum Assalam, Sandal. Have a seat."

She nodded and took a seat in front of Mamo“s desk.

I looked at Mamo in surprise, then back at her. What did Mamo see in her? It“s hard to see her face as it is covered with her scarf and glasses and I am sure she will look like a robot with that blank face of hers.

I know it“s rude to stare, but I couldn“t help myself. I“ve never seen a girl like her before. She“s wearing only a wristwatch on her left hand and a silver ring on her right hand“s index finger. The only makeup on her face was lip gloss.

Is she normal? She doesn“t look older than Zohma. She is a total freak. Why did Mamo choose her??

"Sandal, this is your boss and CEO of the company, Ahmed Wali." He said to that girl. She looked up at me once, before dropping her gaze and nodded in acknowledgment.

"And Ahmed, she is Sandal Khaleel, your assistant from now on." He said to me, giving me a meaningful glare.

Means the topic is closed for further discussion.

He knows very well that I would never refuse anything if he was serious about it. I can“t do that, he is my father figure after my dad“s death, always supporting me and my family. He also took care of dad“s business with his work when I was little. He never forces me to do anything, always supporting me even if it were a fight with boys in college. This is the first time he is asking me to do something. I can“t say “No“ to this, I don“t want to say “No“.

I look down at the floor for a moment before looking at Mamo. I nodded him in agreement and look back at the girl. She was staring at something on the desk.

I know what to do with you, Miss Sandal Khalil.


Truck Art: A form of painting usually done on trucks in Pakistan with bright colours.

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