Chapter 01_"Not a Fairytale"

"An Ordinary Girl and A Modest Prince"

It was one of the brightest sunrises of late summer. The clock read 9:30 a.m., and the humidity in the air was higher than usual. The midnight downpour had left the morning breeze fresh and pleasant, but he was far from feeling refreshed. The cause of his discontent was a destination he was dreading.

Life had always been a whirlwind of excitement for him. He had everything anyone could dream of: good looks, an athletic build, studies at a foreign university, and a renowned, wealthy family background. He had always received whatever he desired, but recently, life seemed to be slipping from his grasp.

He had intended to complete his business degree at Cambridge University, where he was already enrolled. However, fate had other plans, forcing him to return to his home country.

Unexpectedly, his father was diagnosed with cancer in its early stages, though the doctors were optimistic about his chances of recovery. Catching cancer early can significantly improve the outcome, especially if treatment starts promptly. Despite the positive prognosis, his father had grown despondent and wanted all his children close.

Salaar reluctantly agreed, but deep inside, he still longed to complete his degree at Cambridge. It took a great deal of effort for him to accept this change. Nevertheless, for his father's sake, he relinquished his dream and returned to his homeland.

Today marked his first day at the new university to which he had been transferred. Little did he know that fate had other plans.

As his car approached the university's entrance, the heavy plantation and lush greenery surrounding the campus were lost on him, his mind clouded by negativity. He glanced around absently, slowing his car at the entrance.

Seeing the approaching luxury vehicle, the guard quickly left his post to open the gate. Salaar asked the guard about the parking area and followed the directions given. It took him a few minutes to find a suitable spot. Just as he was about to park, someone sped into the space he had selected—on a bike.

He slammed on the brakes, momentarily stunned. The first thought that crossed his mind was, "Is this person out of their mind? How can someone be so reckless?"

He quickly got out of the car.

"Hey, what are you doing? Are you blind? Can't you see this huge car?" he demanded. A wave of anger surged over him as he frowned at the biker.

What happened next was beyond his imagination. The biker was a girl. She removed her helmet, shot him a deadly glare, gripping the helmet tightly in her right hand.

The girl, appearing to be in her early twenties, with a high ponytail and a mix-and-match combination of clothes, walked forward and stood confidently right in front of him.

"Listen, mister," she spat in a loud voice. "Before parking your gigantic car" She spread her arms to illustrate the size..."you should check if the spot is vacant or reserved. This spot is reserved for my royal highness." She patted the bike seat as if it were her beloved pet.

"Listen... I can't see any reservation plate or anyone's name here. So how can it be reserved?" Salaar furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes at the girl, if she could even be considered feminine.

She swung her ponytail again and continued, "Before you, I never had to give anyone a reservation reminder. For the past two years, His Royal Highness, His Majesty Rajah, the prince, has been parked here every day. Six hours a day, six days a week. And no one on this campus has had the guts to touch it. Understand?"

Salaar gazed at the overly confident girl, speechless at her audacity to talk to him like that. No one had ever dared to speak to him this way, let alone challenge him.

"By the way, are you a fresher? I haven’t seen you around before." She finally put some pressure on her memory and realized his face was unfamiliar. She usually knew the whereabouts of almost every student on campus.

The extremely handsome guy standing in front of her had so much written on his face ... exasperation, disapproval, and stunned disbelief. Any other girl in her place might have melted under his intense aura and unmatched charisma. But she wasn’t like other girls. She was immune to such things, barely affected by those kinds of feelings.

"Don’t mind me, but you seem a bit too old to be a fresher," she chuckled, her sarcasm leaving Salaar stunned by her unshakable confidence.

"SALAAR!" Someone called his name, making both of them shift their gaze in unison.

A boy with pleasant facial features, about the same age as Salaar, was hurrying toward them. By the time he reached them, he was almost out of breath. "Sorry, sorry, I'm late. The principal called me to his office," he exclaimed apologetically and warmly hugged Salaar.

"Welcome, brother. I hope you arrived safely." Salaar rolled his eyes at his relaxed tone. "I was calling you, but you didn't pick up," Salaar uttered, his tone slightly gloomy.

"I had my phone on silent during the lecture, so I missed your call," the boy explained with a sheepish grin, scratching his head.

This was Fahad, Salaar’s cousin. His father, Colonel Mujtaba Dilawar, was the brother-in-law of Salaar’s mother, making their mothers sisters.

Unlike Salaar, Fahad had a completely different personality. He was highly expressive and couldn’t keep things to himself. Known for his impulsiveness, Fahad often made hasty decisions, which frequently led to significant losses.

Fahad was a student at the same university and had persuaded Salaar to join him there.

"The guard told me everything. Please forgive me for the inconvenience caused," Fahad continued, addressing both Salaar and Zarmeena.

"First, let me introduce you two," Fahad said, turning to Salaar. "Salaar, this is Zarmeena, a third-year BS Mathematics student. And Zarmeena, this is my cousin Salaar. He's a final-year MS Business student, recently transferred here from Cambridge University, England."

Zarmeena, who had been in an aggressive mood just moments earlier, suddenly softened her tone. "Cambridge University?" she almost choked on her words, her eyes widening in amusement.

"My God, no wonder! I was curious about who had the guts to take a mid-session admission at our university. After all, our university has quite a reputation in the city," she said proudly.

Throughout the conversation, Salaar had spoken only a few words, remaining mostly quiet. He took note of this and observed her closely. She was dressed in a light purple qameez paired with faded jeans, and her dupatta was wrapped around her neck like a muffler.

Despite wearing worn-out sneakers, she carried herself with unshakable confidence ... like someone who couldn’t care less what the world thought of her."

Before leaving, she exclaimed, "Bro, I apologize, but as I mentioned earlier, I can't afford to give any trouble to my 'Rajah.' The side area is vacant; you can park your car there." She pointed towards the space.

She was about to leave when she suddenly turned back to Salaar. "If you need anything, you can come to me. Fahad knows me well ... I can fix anything and solve any problem. Till then, ta-ta!" She waved her hand and walked away.

Salaar couldn't shake the feeling that there was something unusual about that girl. She appeared to be an ordinary girl with ordinary looks, yet there was something extraordinary in the way she carried herself.

Salaar returned from university still pondering. He strained himself but couldn't get Zarmeena out of his mind. It wasn't that he was the flirtatious type; in fact, throughout his life, he'd met many girls, and though he was attracted to a few, none had ever left such a lasting impression on him.

"Salaar, my son, you're back," a frail familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. An eighty-year-old woman with a wrinkled face and a sweet smile looked at him affectionately.

"Dado (grandmother)," he exclaimed, immediately rising to his feet.

"Why did you trouble yourself? You should have called me instead. I would have come to your room." He gently held her hands and helped her sit on the sofa.

"Never mind," she replied politely. "At my age, it's good to move around a little." She leaned back on the sofa and exclaimed, "How was your first day at university?" Again, her image played on the screen of his mind, but he forced her out of his thoughts.

"It wasn't great. As expected, Fahad didn't pick up my call, and I got into a bit of trouble," Salaar explained the whole story to Dado, but to his surprise, Dado instantly got anxious.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed with an alarming tone. "What happened? Are you fine now? Did Fahad reach you?"

"Relax, Dado, I'm fine. I found Fahad soon afterward, and he was the one who guided me around the campus," Salaar reassured her.

"I told Faizan not to disturb the child... only a few months are left in your studies. But Faizan is Faizan... prefers molding children's lives according to his choice," Dado said furiously.

"It's alright, Dado. I understand his position. He's worried about his health deteriorating, and he's right ... in times of trouble, a family should stand together. Please, keep yourself calm and don't worry about me. I'll manage," Salaar declared thoughtfully.

"God bless you, son. I was so stressed about how you would handle all this, but you've grown into a mature man. You've learned how to handle things and given peace to my restless mind," Dado sighed with relief.

Salaar curved his lips into a beautiful smile, thinking of Dado always treating him like a kid.

Salaar carefully escorted Dado to her room. On the way back to his room, he pledged to flush out all the distractions from his mind, but still, sleep eluded him that night.

The next day, Salaar hurried up the stairs of his department. Even though the sun wasn't particularly harsh, he still wasn't used to the summer heat here. His fair face flushed from the heat, but he ignored it and quickened his pace to avoid being late for class. He hadn't managed to attend any classes the previous day, but today, he was determined not to miss any.

"Hi," he heard Fahad's voice behind him. Salaar stopped for a moment, tilted his head, and gazed at Fahad, who was only a few steps behind him. Salaar nodded in response and continued ascending the stairs.

"Brother, why are you in such a rush?" Fahad demanded, keeping pace with him.

"I'm late for my class," Salaar replied without slowing down.

"Bro, take a breath. There are still fifteen minutes left until class. The schedule changed due to the new semester," Fahad revealed, making Salaar stop immediately.

"Oh, Fahad, you should have told me. Why keep a phone if you don't use it?" Salaar snapped.

"Sorry, bro, but please don't tell Dado about this. Last night, she scolded me for not taking proper care of you," Fahad said.

"Okay, okay, don't worry, I won't tell her," Salaar reassured him. "I'm not so fragile that I need you to take care of me."

"Fragile?" Fahad repeated and started giggling. "Look at you! You can't even tolerate the temperature here." His giggles turned into uproarious laughter.

"Bro, I'm telling you, you should carry a portable air conditioner with you, or else you won't be able to control your changing facial tones." Salaar also started beaming.

Salaar entered the classroom and noticed that his classmates seemed a bit astonished by his entry; a few were even pointing at him. Ignoring their gestures, he secured an empty seat in the second row.

As he sat down, he heard the murmuring and chuckling of the girls sitting behind him.

One of them whispered, "Oh my God, he's too good to be a celebrity."

The other added, "Can you pinch me, please? He's too handsome to be real."

Salaar was used to such remarks, so they didn't faze him.

The sound of a chair being pulled caught his attention. A dark-skinned, slim, and tall boy with jet-black hair, who appeared to be about Salaar's age, seated himself beside him. With a warm smile, the boy extended his hand for a handshake.

"Hello! I'm Jawad. Welcome to our class," the boy said.

Salaar took his hand in greeting and smiled back. "I'm Salaar," he casually introduced himself.

"I know you. You're Fahad's cousin," Jawad uttered with a grin.

"You know Fahad?" Salaar demanded.

"Actually, we got acquainted during sports sessions. We're both on the volleyball team," Jawad revealed, which made Salaar let out a little sigh.

They were about to continue their conversation, but their attention shifted as the teacher entered the room.