The Pieces Of My Heart [Completed]

Chapter 8

"Please leave her alone. Let her be."

Irsa said in a strict tone.

"I just want to talk to her at least once. She is my daughter."

"You left her alone for others to look after. She is now in a home, with a family. She is happy. Why do you want to ruin it?"

"I have lung cancer Irsa, I don't have long, and I just want to ask for her forgiveness. Maybe God will ease my death this way. I was wrong. I was wrong all along. I failed her. Please tell her to speak to me once."

Irsa was stood still trying to comprehend what he had just said. Maybe as a father he deserves a chance and as a daughter, Dania deserved it too. She didn't respond to him. She didn't know what to say. But in a faint attempt, she uttered:

"I will try."

Before Akram could say anything further, Azlan walked over followed by Kunwar to where Irsa and Akram are stood.

"Why did Dania leave like this, Irsa?"

He asked in confusion and worry.

Akram greeted Azlan who was even more confused at how he knew Irsa.

"How do you know Irsa?"

"Actually, I am Dania's..."

"Azlan, Dania wasn't feeling well so she left, don't worry." Irsa had to interrupt. She couldn't let Akram say it out loud so simply. He had no right to say this anymore. Dania didn't give it to him.

"Oh. I hope she feels better soon."

Azlan wasn't convinced with Irsa's response because he had clearly seen Dania cry as she left. But with her interrupting Akram, He had anticipated that something was seriously wrong, but he didn't want to make it any more complicated at the moment.

Behraam had just called Azlan's name and he went over to speak to him while Irsa pleaded to Akram, so he leaves.

"Just leave for now. Azlan doesn't need to know about Dania's personal life. Stop creating problems for her, will you?"

Akram just walked away without giving away anything, without responding but there was a disappointing and defeated look on his face.

-----

She had to travel back using the taxi, she had sent the driver back home when he dropped her at the venue. She paid the driver and took weak and slow steps towards the entrance door.

ABK FILMS.

She didn't go home. She came to his office. The huge, wide, empire like building from where Pakistan's recent highest grossing films were produced. Usually writers or directors enter this door. Some with hope and some with fear and anxiety on whether the ruler of this empire would let them in and work with them. But tonight, a woman was stood there. She is his client. His business client. She is no ordinary person. She is the co-owner of Fashion House of Muraad's, and that is why she is collaborating with him. But tonight, the woman stood in his office premises was not Dania Ali Muraad but just Dania.