Haider enjoyed the steam train ride; it was his first-time experience. The ride through the mountains, gardens, trees was very pleasant and surprisingly comforting. He loves greenery and nature, so the ride was even more enjoyable to him. Most of the time, he spends glancing out of the window, with his arm resting on the sill of the open window, and the rest of the time went by reading a book that he had brought from the train station.

Haider got down Dehradun railway station and looked around. He touched his throat and brought bottled water from the vendor. Also, he inquired from him the best way to get to Mussoorie. After talking with him, he exited the station. There was a line of taxi waiting for passengers. Haider approached the first taxi, he doesn't bargain. He sat in the back seat as the driver stuffed his luggage in the back bonnet.

Haider felt drowsy as the taxi sped away. But he tried to keep his eyes open and concentrate on the road. On the way, he kept glancing at the driver from the corner of his eyes. One hour later, they reached the Mussoorie. Then, Haider gave the address that Dr. Geiti had given him. The hill station had pleasant weather with gentle breeze fanning his face, calming his nerves. Now, he realized why Dr. Geiti asked him to visit the hill station. They have spent a total of seven days in therapy and he admits that it was helpful. She had a very motherly aura around her, maybe that is how she managed to coax him out of his shell, also her warm presence gave him assurance.

He was jolted from his thoughts when the driver abruptly stopped the taxi and Haider was thrust forward. He frowned and before he could reprimand the driver, he was informed that they had arrived at their destination. He nodded feeling embarrassed. Avoiding eye contact, he paid the driver and stepped down.

Haider looked up at an ancestral mansion, which looked like a 19th, 18th-century building. His gaze fell on the nameplate on one of the bricked pillars of the gate; Noori Mahal. He looked back at the building. It looked like from the colonial era and so, he doubted the name.

He adjusted the collar of his white turtleneck Tee and ran a palm over his hair adjusting his wavy curls.

Through the gate, he walked into a well-mowed garden. The grasses sketched as far as the eye can see. There were shrubs, bushes, lush tall trees. Haider looked around, there was complete silence and not a soul visible in-sight. He was slightly creeped out. Pushing up the long sleeve of his Tee, he glanced at the watch. It was three in the afternoon. Perhaps, everyone was resting. He looked up at the building and let out a breath.

Haider clenched on the handle of his luggage and walked confidently through the stoned pavement. He climbed the three steps and stopped in front of a life-size long wooden double door. There was a string attached to a large bell. He hesitated and then pulled on the string. The bell chimed and he felt dummy for doing that. Within fifteen minutes, just as he was about to walk away the double door opened. He blinked at the tall and muscular, suited security guards. They had guns and looked menacing.

'Yes?' One of them growled.

Haider removed his sunglasses and introduced himself, - 'Dr. Geiti has given me the address and suggested Miss. Amaal Jaffery's name.'

The guards mellowed down and asked him to follow them. As he walked in one of the guards shut the door.

Haider was let through the long, high ceiling hallway which had a trail of chandeliers hanging above. There were large windows on either side of the corridor. They stopped at the gold-painted double door. One of the guards knocked at the door.

'Come in.' A female's voice floated from inside. The voice was muffled, and Haider couldn't make out if the voice was familiar. The guards opened the door and gestured Haider to walk into the grand room.

The room was bright with the light from a large window on the right side of the ceiling. The interior was contemporary with glass showcases, having certificates and trophy in them. There were couches of white leather, L shaped in one corner with a beautiful carved wooden coffee table that had a white top. In the center of the room, there was a long glass table and a woman sat beside it. Facing her back was a large painting of a few kids and old people posing happily in front of the building.

Haider looked at the woman. She seemed to be in her mid-forties but looked quite attractive.

Her waist-length caramel brown wavy hair placed on her shoulder and rest on her back. A golden crepe dupatta resting on her other shoulder. She worked on her PC and was about to pick up a file when her gaze landed on him.

'Yes?' She enquired pushing back her thin-rimmed glasses.

Haider cleared his throat, - 'I am Haider Minhas Zaidi.' The woman smiled a little.

'I know you, Mr. Zaidi.' She removed her glasses and stood up. Haider noted that she was dressed professionally in slim-fitting peach knee-length Kurtha and white cigarette pants.

'Why are you here? Can we help you, sir?' She said politely.

Haider shook his head, - 'Actually,' – he was reluctant in admitting he had gone to meet a psychiatrist, - 'Um.' – he licked his lips, - 'Dr. Geiti suggested to me. Actually, with the work stress, I needed a change—she said this.' He added in hurry, - 'and suggested I, um, do some community service here for a few months.' He clumsily wiped the sweat off his forehead.

'Great.' The woman walked towards him, she forwarded him her hand, - 'I am Noori Ashraf, I own this place.'

Haider took her hand and they gently shook hands.

'You have so generously donated to our institution. It will be our good fortune if we could help you out. Come, I will get you into a room.' She said. She gestured him to follow her. Haider quietly followed her, tagging his luggage with him. On the way, she offered to take the luggage, but he refused, and she didn't argue.

They passed by many large wooden doors, then climbed upstairs. Noori stopped by the door to the sharp right of the stairways and cleared her throat, then knocked at the door.

'Come in.' A cheerful voice responded. Noori twisted the golden round knob and entered the room.

'Welcome, Mr. Haider.' She said.

He walked in and inwardly gasped looking wide-eyed at the room. The room was a total mess with the bedsheets of the bunker bed half lying on the bed and more of it was crumpled on the floor. There was a chair with huge piles of clothes. The light was shown from the life-size French window that opened into a balcony. Leaning against the bunker bed was a young woman with a video game controller in her hand, her eyes glued to the fifty-five-inch TV that had a violent gun game playing in low volume.

Looking at the messed-up room, triggered Haider's OCD. He tried to look away from the mess.

He concentrated on the woman who sat with her legs folded. She was dressed in a loose long sleeve grey top, black track pants, and was bare feet.

'Amaal!' Noori called and the young woman paused her game.

'What is it, Phoup—' She stopped speaking as her gaze fell on Haider, who awkwardly shifted in his place.

'Ya Allah! Haider, Haider Minhas Zaidi in my bedroom.' She spoke enthusiastically whilst gaping at him.

Oh, no! not her- Haider inwardly cringed.

Amaal hurriedly stood up and almost toppled with all the wires of the video game. Haider watched her with a stab of pain in his heart- he will have to share a room with her. 

So, my lovelies! How was the first Chapter? Can we safely say "Bechara Haider" *evil laughter*

Guys, please drop your thoughts in the comments and buckle up for the amazing ride *lots of love* *hugs and kisses* And please, do share the story so more people can join our fun journey.

PS: *Fun Fact* There is going to be a special guest in this book *winks* Guess, who?