CHOSEN BY AR-REHMAN

"Sometimes, the most meaningful connections aren't loud—they begin in silence, built slowly through sincerity and the spaces between spoken words."

_________________________________________---------------------------

-------------------------------

----------------------------------

The sky above campus was draped in soft grey that morning. A light drizzle misted over the glass windows as students hurried in with coats, backpacks, and steaming coffee cups.

Fatima walked through the sleek corridor of the business wing, her ID lanyard brushing her chest as she held her books tight. Everything about the university was a blend of modern vision and multicultural ambition — a place where ideas floated in multiple languages, where futures were shaped in glass-panelled seminar halls.

She didn't particularly like economics that day. But she sat through the lecture, nodding, scribbling, underlining, all while trying not to notice the growing sense of restlessness inside.

Her phone buzzed.

Lily: "Don't forget the seminar at 2. You're on the volunteer list again 😌"

Fatima smiled faintly. Somehow, she always ended up helping with these events. Not because she wanted attention — far from it. But she liked the organization, the order, the rhythm of behind-the-scenes work.

And maybe, just maybe… a part of her had stopped minding that Ehsan might be there.

By 2 PM, the hall was buzzing.

The banner read:

"Innovating Futures: Career Leadership and Global Markets – with Ehsan Khalid"

He didn't just walk onto the stage. He arrived, like someone who knew what he was doing — crisp navy suit, sleeves buttoned, a gold pen clipped to his inner coat pocket.

He wasn't a professor. Not even an alumni.

He was the son of the college's founder — but unlike what privilege might have done to someone else, Ehsan had earned his presence.

Workshops. Global internships. Entrepreneurial incubators. Real world experience.

Fatima watched quietly from the side of the hall as he spoke.

"So many students graduate with a degree," Ehsan said, pacing the stage, "but not all graduate with a direction. And I'm not here to give you one. I'm here to help you build yours."

The way he spoke — confident, clear, and never condescending — made people listen. There was no charm for show. No shallow smiles. He respected the space he stood in.

And somehow… that earned hers too.

Later, after the session ended, Fatima found herself sorting out feedback forms near the exit.

"Fatima," a voice said behind her.

She turned.

Ehsan. Again. Clipboard in hand. Brows relaxed.

"You were managing the logistics?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Just collecting the forms now."

He glanced down at the scattered papers, then back at her.

"You're efficient," he said. "I noticed that last time too."

She blinked, unsure how to respond. "Thank you… I try."

He hesitated. "Actually, I was wondering… would you be interested in assisting with one of our entrepreneurship programs this term? It's extracurricular, of course. Voluntary."

Fatima tilted her head slightly. "Me? I'm still just a first-year."

"Exactly," he replied. "You have time to learn. And it's better to start early — with people who take things seriously."

It wasn't flattery. It wasn't favoritism. It felt like something different.

Trust.

She hesitated. "I'll… think about it."

He nodded. "Take your time. I'll send the details to the volunteer coordinator."

She gave a soft smile. "Okay."

Then, as he turned to leave, she asked quietly, "Why me, though?"

Ehsan paused.

"…Because you don't seem to speak to be heard. You speak to be understood."

And with that, he walked away.

That night, Fatima sat at her desk, eyes flicking between her economics textbook and the note she had scribbled down earlier:

> "Some words find you. Not through noise, but through sincerity."

Lily barged into the room ten minutes later, tossing her bag on the bed. "Okay, now spill."

Fatima raised an eyebrow. "Spill what?"

"You and Ehsan. Something happened again, didn't it?"

Fatima laughed. "No, Lily. He just asked if I'd assist with a program."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Why do you always act like it's not something?"

"Because it isn't," Fatima said. "He's just professional. That's all."

Lily folded her arms. "And what do you feel?"

That question lingered longer than Fatima expected.

She looked away. "I feel… nothing. It's not even been a month since I got here. I don't want complications."

Lily sighed. "But sometimes, it's not about wanting. Sometimes, stories start without asking."

Fatima nodded slowly, her heart suddenly quiet.

Later that night, in a different part of the city, Ehsan stood by his window, staring out at the skyline. He held his tasbeeh loosely, the cool beads rolling between his fingers.

She wasn't like the others he'd seen passing through halls and forums.

She wasn't trying to impress.

She wasn't trying to be seen.

And yet… he noticed her.

He didn't know why.

But he knew this much:

If something was written — if anything — he would only ever move through it with integrity. And if not, he'd protect that distance with the same.

No lines crossed.

No intentions hidden.

Just respect. And restraint.

As always.

End of Chapter 5

_________________________________________