Let Me Redeem [Completed]

By the Fountain

Mirha had, after a continuously busy day, finally submitted the application form, the required documents and fees and photographs and financial information and whatnot, and then called her uncle to inform him about it with a slightly lighter heart.

Her uncle, in all his helplessness and innocence, pronounced all the prayers and well wishes he could come up with in a single breath. Thanking the Mighty Lord and the government in every sentence he spoke, he told them how lucky they were to have such bounties of God to be showered upon them.

Mirha, though, still wasn't completely unburdened. She just wasn't doing enough, wasn't giving her studies her best effort, and wasn't paying her uncle's hard work any worthy recompense.

Her Australian professor of English - of Pakistani descent but lived in Australia half his life - Sir Shaam Azhar Mohammad, nicknamed Sam, had time and again reminded her, with an unsympathetic tone and stony expression that she had done very poorly in her previous semester and that his honest advice would be to transfer to the department of an easier subject or sit at home entirely.

She had been unable to sleep that night, falling into depression. Eveytime she thought of the professor's words, her lungs would feel constricted with humiliation and self pity. Everyone here was of a similar sort of temperament. Harsh, unsympathetic and painfully direct.

She had gone back to him later, and pleaded for help, putting aside all traces of dignity and pride. He had mercifully given her names of two students in third year, whom she could ask for assistance and notes, if they agreed.

Even though she had already been going around after several seniors, juniors and her own batchmates for just that purpose, it didn't do her much good. Still, it had been better than nothing.

She often wondered, had she not done that and relied only on her own ability to comprehend the lectures and textbooks, she would probably have fared worse. Failed perhaps.The mere thought brought tears to her eyes and a rush of immense disappointment in herself.

To be very honest, it wasn't her fault that her grades in English weren't that admirable, it was the professor himself whose thick and twisted accent made it incredibly difficult for a village girl like her to understand his speech.

Mirha had gone to the mentioned seniors for notes, one of which straight away refused. She had known from others in her class, that Ma'az Rahman was the only student who had scored a hundred percent in English in every semester and created a record in the history of the University.

She had seen his picture on a soft board outside the department Dean's office, and was sure it must be plastered in several other places as well. This popularity was bound to have instilled some cockiness and attitude in the guy, so she was seriously dreading going up to him. But go she must, if she wanted to pass the subject.

Once she had reached the staircase one of the students had directed her to, she had instantly recognized Ma'az Rahman among the group. She hadn't been ready for him yet, she had come for the other senior, but pushing back her shoulders, she had decided to get it over with. She had feigned surprise when the person told her he was the one, and stated her purpose with her heart in her throat with nervousness.

She had unexpectedly spotted that suave looking boy who had helped her with the scholarship application sitting with Ma'az.

The presence of the helpful dude had somewhat calmed her, but couldn't help curb the unexpected humiliation she'd had to face. Even though she had desperately wanted to run away, she had stood her ground and forcefully kept herself resolute.

Another surprise, for this place was in no way short of those, came when she found out the helpful dude was the same person she had come looking for in the first place. The other senior recommended to her.

Thankfully, mercifully, Hadi Maher hadn't refused her, and so here she stood, waiting, by a fountain beside the cafeteria. If Hadi declined to meet her terms today, all her effort and the humiliation she had had to bear would have been for nothing. It would just double her embarrassment.

Swallowing with a sense of foreboding churning in her stomach, Mirha brought up her hands to fuss self-consciously over her scarf, then smoothed them down her loose, flowy top just as she caught sight of Hadi. he stood a few yards away with a group of his friends, though she noticed they weren't the same from yesterday.

She walked up to him, paused a few steps away from him, his back at her, waiting for him to finish. But one of the friends eyed her, giving Hadi a pointed look, who arched his body and his eyes skirted hers. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Mirha averted her gaze and didn't see the annoyance that had crossed Hadi's face.

"Fine. I'll get to you after the freshman welcome party. Though I hope it doesn't come to that. I won't be looking forward to seeing you guys again." She heard him say to one of the other boys who let out a sheepish laugh.

"Yeah. We kinda hope so too." The boy grinned and extended his hand.

Hadi took it and gave it a firm shake, he offered him a curt smile and turned to Mirha.

She looked up against the burning sun and shielded her squinting eyes with her hand. "You told me to come-"

"Right." Cutting her off, he walked towards the fountain. Mirha trudged behind him and halted when they had reached. "Sit. " He said, jerking his chin at the bench by the edge of it. Once she had settled down, he jumped up to sit at the lip of the fountain bowl, putting his feet on the bench a little way from her.

"You told me to come-"

Hadi gave a dismissive nod. "To know if I've changed my mind about the money, yes." He said, "What did I put as my final charges?"

"You said 50k. " Wringing her fingers on her lap, Mirha looked up at him nervously.

"And how much did you bargain?"

"5000." Feeling guilty for some reason, she came out too timid and meek for her liking.

Hadi arched an eyebrow. "How's that fair?"

Mirha dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry I can't give you that much. You know I applied for a scholarship . . . and you helped me with that. I'd be really grateful if you helped me with this too." She pleaded as a final effort, ready to face the refusal.

"The scholarship? " Hadi raised his eyebrows. "Right," he huffed, amused, "that was you."

Wondering what was funny, Mirha shifted his gaze back at him. "Please."

He pulled a straight face and stared her down. Incredibly uncomfortable, Mirha shifted slightly, feeling his lingering gaze travel down her body.

"Fine."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. They're all piled up in my locker, the notes, I'll send them to you in an hour."

Her hand went up to her chest and she exhaled, immensely relieved and heart twisting with gratitude. "Thank you." She breathed and extended her hand she was clutching the Rs. 5000 bill in.

Hadi looked from between her hand to her face. "Keep it." He said coolly.

"What?" Mirha asked, confused.

"I was playing with you. I don't need the money. Though I have a condition."

"Yes?" She said, eyes wide and glinting with gratitude.

"Don't hand them to anybody else. In fact, don't even tell anyone I gave them to you. If the word spreads, every freshman and sophomore would end up asking me for them too. I don't want a headache."

With an energetic nod, she readily agreed. "I promise."

"Good."

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