The Mystery Files - Chapter 60: Unwilling Spotlight

The next day at the firm began almost as usual.

Almost.

Ali and Omer managed to find a brief private moment together on the operations floor.

Omer glanced around before lowering his voice.

“What’s with Sajjad? He was late yesterday, and he’ll be late again today. He’s never been like that before. But two days… back to back?”

Ali's expression remained thoughtful.

“I've been wondering the same thing.”

He glanced around, making sure the people nearby were occupied with their work.

“Now, something important…”

He hesitated.

Then he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Yesterday, Noor Ain confirmed something.”

Omer's eyes widened.

“What exactly?”

“That Mr. Haider has been a family friend of hers for years.”

Omer's expression changed, but he said nothing.

“He’s been close to her father for as long as she can remember,” Ali added.

Omer slowly raised an eyebrow.

“There must be something about that chieftain…”

He paused, choosing his words.

“…something that made a serious, studious technology aspirant remain close to a man who had originally come to develop an association with his twin brother.”

For a while, the hum of the servers and the clicking of keyboards were the only sounds echoing across the operations floor.

Ali nodded slowly.

“And not merely remain close.”

His gaze drifted briefly across the operations floor.

“To sustain that association for so long.”

“You know, Omer…”

Ali's sea-green eyes carried a strange glint.

“October 1985…”

Omer's expression changed immediately.

“What about October ’85?”

Ali's shoulders tensed slightly.

“That was probably the year…”

He paused, searching for the right words.

“…when something might have happened.”

Omer watched him carefully.

“Something connected to all this?”

Ali nodded slowly.

“Perhaps.”

His gaze drifted towards the rows of monitors.

“Something that could at least partially untangle the mysteries that seem to surround us.”

Omer remained silent.

Ali exhaled slowly.

“If we're right…”

He looked back at him.

“…October 1985 might tell us where some of this began.”

“But…” Omer's eyes carried a trace of uncertainty.

“Who exactly is going to tell us what might have happened in October ’85?”

“Perhaps your father?” Omer suggested.

Ali shook his head.

“He wasn't in the port city that year.”

He paused.

“And mind you, Omer…”

His voice became more deliberate.

“We're talking about October 1985.”

Omer remained silent.

“Minus Iftikhar Siddiqui…”

Ali looked at him.

“…minus Farooq Haider.”

A brief silence followed.

“So we're left with only three names.”

“Tariq Malik…”

He paused.

“Raza Haider…”

“And Khizar Shahzaman.”

Omer looked puzzled.

“Then…”

He hesitated.

“Do you think Tariq Malik might help us get a lead?...I mean…"

He didn't complete the sentence.

Ali understood what he meant.

He gave a slight shrug.

“You know what Noor Ain said yesterday?”

The mention of Noor Ain made Omer flinch.

“This Noor Ain, man…” he muttered. “Now what else did she say?”

Ali looked at him for a moment before quoting her exact words.

“A frail mind may fail in the present… but it can sometimes remember the past more clearly.”

Omer's eyebrow rose.

“So…”

He studied Ali's face.

“Do you think her words were referring to Tariq Malik?”

“Yes,” Ali replied.

“But how?”

Omer's voice carried a tinge of surprise.

Ali's reply came quickly.

“Abdul Ahad was talking about Tariq Malik when she said that.”

Omer paused.

“So… does she, by any chance, know Tariq Malik? I mean, on a personal level? Not just as Abdul Ahad's grandfather?”

“No.” Ali shook his head. “Not on a personal level.”

“But there was something in her voice… or something inexplicable about her when she said that.”

Omer stiffened.

“And we both know…”

Ali looked into Omer's dark eyes.

His expression grew thoughtful.

“…when she says something… it may carry more than its face value.”

For a moment, Omer said nothing.

The steady rhythm of the operations floor continued around them.

Yet neither man seemed to be listening to it anymore.

The sound of approaching footsteps made Ali glance over his shoulder.

One of the peons was walking towards them.

Ali immediately changed his expression.

“We'll talk later.”

Omer nodded.

The peon stopped before them and greeted them respectfully.

“Mr. Haider would like to see Omer Sir in his suite.”

Ali noticed Omer's shoulders stiffen.

He inhaled slowly.

“Okay. I'll be there.”

He dismissed the peon with a small gesture.

Ali watched Omer's eyebrows knit together, a pulse visibly throbbing along his handsome features.

“Chill, man.”

Ali couldn't suppress a smile.

“Maybe it's not those lunatics. The boss might have summoned you for something else.”

Omer sighed.

“That something else might also not be very welcoming.”

Ali nudged him lightly.

“Now, before another summons comes, I suggest you get it over with. The sooner, the better.”

Omer ascended two floors in the elevator, his pulse slightly quickened.

Control yourself, Omer. You need to act sane.

But how would I ? he asked himself, staring at his reflection in the flawless glass panel beside him.

Think rationally.

It's not your father's firm…

And this isn't your father's summons.

You, above all, are a worker here.

He frowned at his reflection.

What if Mr. Haider gives me a memo?

He almost smiled at the thought.

And if he does, it wouldn't exactly be a surprise.

His expression hardened.

And what if he presses me again to let those fake PR people from overseas continue treating me as an object of interest?

The illuminated floor indicator changed.

The elevator decelerated.

The doors parted.

Omer stepped out.

He straightened his shoulders, composed his expression, and walked towards the executive suite.

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Omer saw Mr. Haider standing near the floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the city skyline.

The heavy glass door clicked shut behind him.

Omer decided to remain where he was, motionless, for as long as he could.

Perhaps if I stand quietly enough, Mr. Haider may remain occupied and eventually forget that I am here.

Then came Mr. Haider’s deep baritone.

“Mr. Omer... how long are you planning to stand there like a carved statue?”

Omer sighed inwardly.

This man is impossible.

Mr. Haider turned and looked directly at him.

Omer forced a professional smile.

Mr. Haider walked towards his high-backed chair and sat down, adjusting one of his gold cufflinks with deliberate calm.

“So, Mr. Omer...”

He gestured towards the visitor’s chair.

“I have begun to suspect that a few of my executives have suddenly turned hostile towards my furniture.”

Omer understood what he meant.

He took a measured step towards the chair and sat down, already anticipating a reprimand, disappointment, or worse, a memo or show-cause notice.

When is he going to give me the letter?

Omer wanted this uncomfortable ordeal to end.

“Yesterday... your behaviour was rather... unusual.”

Mr. Haider said it as casually as though he were commenting on something entirely mundane.

Omer swallowed.

Mr. Haider waited.

Omer offered no explanation.

After a moment, he continued.

“You were chosen as the face of Haideron Tech.”

He paused.

“And you were aware of it.”

Omer remained silent.

“Yesterday, our overseas PR representatives were merely assessing you.”

Mr. Haider’s gaze remained steady.

“But you perhaps took it personally.”

Omer still said nothing.

So when is he going to give me that letter?

Mr. Haider leaned back slightly.

“Agatha Carlton and Mac Zavian... well, I would say they are thoroughly professional. They never took your behaviour personally.”

His eyes remained on Omer.

“But you...”

He paused.

“Do you have an explanation?”

Omer shifted slightly in his chair.

He drew a deep breath.

“No, sir... I don't.”

Mr. Haider’s eyebrow rose slightly.

Omer continued before he could say anything.

“It’s just that I don't like anyone violating my personal space.”

He paused.

“Whatever happened... happened right here, in this executive suite.”

His eyes met Mr. Haider’s.

“And you were there.”

A brief silence followed.

“You witnessed everything yourself, sir. So I don't think any explanation or clarification is needed.”

Mr. Haider did not speak for a while.

Then he asked quietly,

“You do not regret your behaviour?”

Omer shook his head.

“I do not.”

The answer came without hesitation.

“I was sitting there patiently amid those unblinking stares... those uninhibited comments... those discussions about my physique, my hair, my height...”

He paused.

“You saw that too, sir.”

Mr. Haider remained silent.

Omer drew a slow breath.

“I tolerated it.”

His voice remained controlled, but the irritation beneath it was unmistakable.

“I kept sitting there because I understood that they were doing their job. I knew I had been selected for the campaign, and I was willing to cooperate.”

He looked directly at Mr. Haider.

“But then it happened.”

A muscle along his chiselled cheekbone twitched.

“And I could no longer force myself to continue behaving as though everything was perfectly normal.”

He paused.

“Whatever you may call my usual behaviour, sir... that situation had already gone beyond what I was willing to tolerate.”

Mr. Haider studied him.

Omer leaned back slightly.

“I may have reacted more strongly than I normally would.”

A brief pause.

“But I don't regret stopping him.”

Mr. Haider’s fingers rested against the arm of his chair.

“You pushed him.”

“I pushed his hand away.”

“You stood over him.”

“He was touching my face.”

“You spoke rather sharply to Ms. Carlton.”

Omer’s expression tightened.

“She laughed.”

Mr. Haider’s eyebrow rose.

“That offended you?”

“It wasn't the laughter itself.”

Omer paused.

“It was the fact that she was laughing at a situation I found humiliating.”

Mr. Haider regarded him silently.

Omer continued.

“I am an executive of this company, sir. Not a mannequin.”

A faint flicker of amusement appeared in Mr. Haider’s eyes.

“Very well.”

He adjusted his cufflink again.

“Let us establish one thing first.”

Omer waited.

“I do not consider your reaction entirely unjustified.”

Omer’s expression changed slightly.

That was not what he had expected to hear.

“But,” Mr. Haider continued, “I do consider it unusual.”

Omer lowered his eyes.

“I know.”

“Yesterday, you came remarkably close to physically throwing one of our overseas executives out of my office.”

“I didn't throw him out.”

A faint smile returned to Mr. Haider’s lips.

“You merely appeared to be considering it.”

Omer remained silent.

Mr. Haider leaned back.

“Perhaps that is what surprised me.”

Omer looked up.

“You weren't angry about the campaign.”

He paused.

“You were angry because someone crossed a boundary.”

Omer nodded once.

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Haider regarded him for another moment.

“Your boundaries have been noted.”

Omer blinked.

Mr. Haider continued calmly.

“Mr. Zavian and Ms. Carlton are experienced PR executives. They understood your boundaries themselves... before I had to explain them.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“And I found that rather helpful.”

Omer stared at him, still trying to understand what he meant.

Mr. Haider folded his hands.

“Instead of me having to explain to them what you would or would not tolerate...”

His gaze remained steady.

“...you demonstrated it yourself.”

For a moment, Omer remained completely still.

He wasn't sure whether he had just been defended, analyzed—or quietly studied.

Mr. Haider watched his expression.

Then a faint amusement returned to his eyes.

“Mr. Omer... why do I suddenly feel that you are under a frozen spell?”

Omer finally blinked.

Mr. Haider's smile widened slightly.

“Rest assured. I have never been famous for casting spells.”

Omer finally emerged from his momentary trance.

He straightened slightly in his chair.

“Sir... then what exactly did you mean by saying that my boundaries have been noted?”

Mr. Haider's expression became composed again.

“Exactly what I said.”

He paused.

“Your boundaries will have to be taken into consideration.”

Omer waited.

Mr. Haider leaned back slightly.

“Because despite yesterday's incident, my decision remains unchanged.”

Omer's eyebrows lifted.

“Which decision, sir?”

“You.”

Omer stared at him.

“You are still going to be the face of Haideron Tech.”

For a moment, Omer simply looked at him.

“Sir... despite all of that?”

Mr. Haider gave a small nod.

“Despite all of that.”

Omer was still perplexed.

“I mean... it still has to be me?”

“Yes.”

Omer exhaled.

“Don't you think I already appear better behind screens and monitors than I would in front of cameras?”

Mr. Haider gave him a calm look.

“You will appear good wherever I assign you.”

Omer stared at him.

For a moment, he felt as though he had already used his last arrow—and that one had missed the target too.

So... that's it.

No reprimand.

No show-cause notice.

No letter.

Apparently, he was still the chosen face of Haideron Tech.

Mr. Haider leaned back in his chair.

“Now...”

His expression became slightly more serious.

“Shall we discuss why I actually called you here?”

Omer found himself nodding.

Mr. Haider lightly touched the knot of his tie, his expression thoughtful.

“I have come to the conclusion that you, Ms. Carlton and Mr. Zavian need a few more meetings.”

Omer swallowed.

“I have already made it clear to them that they will need to adapt to you.”

He paused.

“But adaptation cannot work if they are expected to guess what you are comfortable with.”

Mr. Haider leaned back slightly.

“So, this time, I am thinking of letting you have some say in how you see yourself in the promotional campaigns.”

Omer’s shoulders stiffened again.

“Sir... a few more meetings?”

He hesitated.

“Honestly, sir... that is something I don't think I can force myself to endure.”

He lowered his eyes briefly.

“I thought... yesterday’s encounter was a one-time ordeal. I wouldn't have to meet them again.”

Mr. Haider raised an eyebrow.

“Then I would say you were being rather optimistic.”

Omer looked up.

Mr. Haider adjusted one of his gold cufflinks with deliberate calm.

“They will be staying here for a week.”

Omer said nothing.

“And by the time they fly back, I expect at least one billboard advertisement.”

He paused.

“If not a complete promotional video.”

A week?

Apparently, yesterday's encounter had not been the conclusion of anything.

It had merely been the beginning.

Mr. Haider adjusted his cufflink once more.

“After lunch, I have arranged one of those meetings.”

Omer's pulse quickened.

“Here. In my suite.”

Again?

Mr. Haider seemed to read the thought on his face.

“And it won't cost you a month's salary if you appear a little less intimidating to them today.”

Omer blinked.

Mr. Haider continued before he could respond.

“And one more thing.”

He leaned back slightly.

“If they remain within the boundaries you have established, you are not expected to behave like an angry young man.”

Omer almost protested, but Mr. Haider continued.

“I know you well enough to understand that you won't deliberately be difficult.”

Mr. Haider paused for a moment.

“Try to smile.”

A faint amusement touched his eyes.

“Try to loosen up a little.”

He paused.

“And don't take offence at every display of their forwardness. They will need some time to adapt to you as well.”

Omer remained silent.

Apparently, having his boundaries respected did not mean he had been granted permission to spend the entire week glaring at the PR team.86Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuRD0o5FYnc

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