“There’s no need to check the CCTV,” he said, raising his voice. “Come out!”

Her heart skipped a beat. Even though he wasn’t speaking directly to her, the command shook her deeply.

“I’m commanding you to come out from behind the curtains. Don’t make me repeat myself,” his tone carried no hint of playfulness.

Everyone in the room turned their eyes toward the direction Chief Owais was staring at. To their shock, the curtains shifted slightly.

“Whoever it is, his body will tell him he made the mistake of entering this room,” the big guy muttered.

The Prime Minister’s gaze was fixed, waiting to see who dared to sneak in.

“Will you come out, or do we shoot you with a bullet?” Boss Man barked thunderously.

She almost wet herself. Sweat poured down her back. Her body trembled uncontrollably. Though she had done nothing wrong, fear gripped her heart. If they caught her inside the room, suspicion would surely fall on her—perhaps only because she had loosened her brother’s jalabiya buttons. They might assume she had some other intention.

“Servant of Allah, come out willingly before we lose our patience,” the big guy called again. But there was only silence; no movement from behind the curtain.

Chief Owais moved quickly toward the curtain, folding his sleeves as he stretched out his hand to seize the intruder. But Boss Man’s voice stopped him.

“Sir, it’s Unaisah.”

Chief froze, turning toward Boss. Every eye in the room snapped to Boss in shock—how did he know?

“My instinct tells me it’s her. She’s the only one who would dare enter here, just to check on her brother.” He raised his voice. “Unaisah, come out.”

Slowly, all eyes settled on the curtain.

She pulled it aside, emerging with her gray eyes darting nervously. Unable to meet their gazes, she lowered her head, fidgeting with her fingers.

“You little daredevil. If Chief had gotten his hands around your neck, you’d be in the emergency room right now,” the big guy teased. The room filled with laughter.

The Prime Minister leaned forward. “If I understand correctly, this is the girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Boss Man replied. “My daughter.”

Sheikh Imam smiled warmly. “Tabarakallah, ahsanul khaliqin. Come, my daughter, greet us.” He extended his hand toward her.

She glanced sideways at Chief, but the mask covering his face revealed only his beautiful eyes. She blinked rapidly, then turned to Sheikh Imam, placing her hand in his.

“Unaisah, right?”

She nodded.

“Why stay silent when you hear us speaking? It’s not as if you committed a crime—coming to check on your brother is natural.”

Still, she said nothing, shrinking into herself as though accused of something grave.

“Come here, my daughter-in-law,” the Prime Minister called softly.

Her heart pounded violently. She snapped her eyes toward him, only for her chest to tighten and her lips to part in shock. The realization struck her hard, and everyone understood the reason for her panic.

She looked desperately at Boss Man, then at Salsabeel, who stood smiling.

“Didn’t you hear him? Go and greet him,” Salsabeel urged.

She approached the Prime Minister timidly. “Good morning,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He smiled gently, placing his palm on her head.

“You haven’t had breakfast, have you? Or did you forget the time? I hear you saying good morning when the day is already far gone.” His words were full of care.

Shyly she replied, “I forgot.”

“Alright, my daughter-in-law. I hope you’re well?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m glad to finally meet you. And you?”

She nodded. “Me too.”

“Unaisah,” Boss Man called. She turned toward him.

“This is the Prime Minister, Chief Owais’s uncle. He’s the one who called Sheikh Imam here to check on your brother’s health.”

She quickly turned back to the Prime Minister. Tears welled in her eyes, her voice shaking.

“Thank you… May Allah reward you with paradise. Just as you’ve made us happy, may Allah make you happy too. I promise, in every prayer I make, I’ll remember you.”

The Prime Minister’s heart swelled. He smiled deeply, touched. “Thank you, my daughter-in-law.”

Turning to Sheikh Imam, she continued with teary eyes, “Baba, thank you. May Allah bless you with His greatest bounty.” She showered him with prayers. Sheikh Imam stroked her hair tenderly.

“Thank you, my daughter. You have wisdom and understanding. Your parents raised you well. May Allah bless you and your siblings.”

Her tears spilled freely now, though she tried to hide them.

“Unaisah, you should also thank our Chief,” Boss Man reminded her, pointing toward him.

She turned reluctantly. Chief stood tall, arms folded across his broad chest. She lifted her foot to approach, but the big guy stopped her gently.

He leaned close and whispered in her ear.

“You don’t need to thank him. He doesn’t like it. But be kind to him. If you allow me, I’ll guide you.”

Softly, she replied, “Okay.”

“Good girl,” he whispered before straightening again. No one else had heard their exchange.

“Unaisah,” Boss said, “go to your room and pray. Lunch will be brought to you soon.”

“Toh,” she responded and hurried out.

The moment she left, Danish stirred on the bed, breathing deeply. His fingers and toes twitched. Everyone realized he was finally waking from his coma. Joy lit up the Prime Minister’s face.

“He’s awake. We should bring him food immediately,” Salsabeel said.

“But what kind of food can he handle?” the big guy asked.

“Liquid meals will be easier for him to swallow,” Prime Minister answered.

“I’ll get it,” the big guy replied, rushing out.

Just then, Chief’s phone rang. He checked the screen and answered. “It’s Dad Lateef,” he informed them.

The Prime Minister nodded. “If you need to prepare before we leave, go ahead. By the time you return, I’ll be done feeding him, and we can head out.”

“Okay,” Chief said, leaving the room.

…

[Conversation continues with Sheikh Imam excusing himself, Big Guy returning with food, Salsabeel leaving, until only the Prime Minister, Boss Man, and Danish remain.]

Boss prepared the milk, pouring it carefully into Danish’s mouth. At first, he resisted, but eventually swallowed. Relief spread across the Prime Minister’s face. “Good. Now give him some yogurt.”

Patiently, Boss fed him until he finished. “That’s enough for now, we shouldn’t overfill him,” Prime Minister advised, watching Danish with deep affection.

Boss set the tray aside, then hesitated. Something weighed on him. Finally, gathering courage, he spoke quietly. “Yallabai…”

The Prime Minister turned to him. “I’m listening. Why stop halfway? Speak freely, I’m only human.”

Boss swallowed nervously. “Forgive me if I’m wrong… but I heard people say you’ve never had a son, only daughters. Is that true?”

Silence filled the room. The Prime Minister stared at Danish for a long moment, his expression clouding.

“I’m sorry, sir, if my question hurts you,” Boss quickly added.

But Hateem finally spoke, his voice low, carrying deep sorrow.

“You’ve touched the deepest wound in my heart. I lost something I’ll never forget… a son I loved more than my life.” His voice trembled, his eyes glistening.

Boss’s chest tightened with guilt. “I shouldn’t have asked… forgive me.”

“It’s alright,” the Prime Minister said with a broken smile. “It was long ago. His name was Omair bin Hateem Obinna. That’s the name I had chosen for him. But Allah didn’t will it.”

Boss repeated softly, “Omair bin Hateem Obinna… a beautiful name. May Allah grant you something even better than what you lost. I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

“Thank you,” Hateem whispered, wiping his tears.

Boss lowered his head again, marveling at how such a powerful man could be so humble, so down-to-earth.

“Honestly, sir… since I was born, I’ve never seen a leader as humble as you. Talking to you right now… it feels like a dream.”

The Prime Minister smiled faintly. “People often say that. But I see myself as nothing more than Allah’s servant, like everyone else. No matter my title, when I stand among the poor, I forget who I am. When I’m among the rich, I feel their equal. Right now, sitting with you, I see you as my friend.”

Boss’s eyes widened, overwhelmed.

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