Episode - 03 | Zehraan Ali Nawaz

Year 2020

For two years, Ferisha had been living in a world of silent fascination, her heart captivated by a boy she had never spoken to—Zehraan Ali Nawaz. A boy who was not just anyone, but the son of a Nawab, exuding grace and charm that came with his royal lineage. Zehraan was the kind of person who drew attention effortlessly, not just because of his background, but because of his calm demeanor and magnetic smile.

She knew everything about him. His favourite colours—navy blue and olive green, were the ones that matched his poised personality. His go-to coffee order—a cappuccino with a little extra sugar to ease his stress. She even knew his favourite spot in town, the Sunshine Café, where he often sat by the corner window, either buried in a book or lost in his thoughts.

But what fascinated her the most was his dream of becoming a doctor. He had already begun his preparations, his dedication evident in the way he spent hours poring over medical books in the library. She secretly called him “Dr Voice”, “Dr Perfect,” or “Dr Pulse Keeper”, a private nickname that symbolized the inexplicable hold his voice and presence had on her.

Ferisha's admiration wasn’t just his looks or his royal background—it was everything about him. From his voice to his determination, his kind smile, and the way he carried himself with such calm confidence. Yet, she never dared to approach him. She preferred to watch from afar, sitting a few seats away in the library, sneaking glances at him while pretending to read. She would sit on the bleachers, cheering silently as he played basketball, her camera capturing every smile, every laugh, every moment.

Her phone was a gallery of stolen moments—pictures of Zehraan laughing with his friends, tying his shoelaces before a game, sipping coffee in the sunlight. She knew it was borderline obsessive, but she couldn’t help herself. He was like a puzzle she wanted to solve, a story she wanted to read over and over.

One evening, Aariz caught her scrolling through the pictures on her phone, her face glowing with a soft smile.

“Feri,” Aariz said sternly, crossing his arms. “You’ve been doing this for two years now. Don’t you think it’s time to stop?”

She looked up, startled. “What do you mean, AB?”

“I mean this.” He gestured toward her phone. “Your obsession. Do you even know what you’re doing? You have to leave the country in a few months for your studies. Don’t get too attached.”

Ferisha frowned, clutching her phone closer. “I’m not obsessed, AB. I just… admire him. I mean his voice of course. And what if I say I have feelings for him, maybe.”

Aariz sighed, sitting beside her. “I get it. But never settle on maybe things. They are not the real feelings. And most importantly, you can’t build your life around someone who doesn’t even know you exist. You have your dreams, Feri. Don’t lose sight of them.”

She nodded.

His words lingered in her mind, but the thought of letting go of her silent fascination felt impossible. She didn’t want to lose the comfort of watching Zehraan silently, even if she had to leave soon.

That night, as she lay in bed, scrolling through pictures of him one last time, she whispered to herself, “Dr. Pulse Keeper, you have no idea how much you’ve become a part of my world.”

__

A few months later.

Ferisha's board exams were finished, and she scored excellent marks as she was the topper as always.  Now, she stood on the cusp of a new chapter. She was ready to leave for London, where her dream of studying at the prestigious London Business School awaited her. It had always been her ambition to prepare herself for the family business, to walk confidently in the footsteps of those who came before her.

Everything was meticulously arranged. The tickets were booked, the packing completed, and her family stood by, ready to bid her farewell. She was on the brink of embracing her future, yet her thoughts were not entirely free. There was a persistent whisper in the back of her mind—something, or rather someone. Zehraan.

Impulsively, she reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Her finger paused over a name that made her lips curve into a soft smile.

“Dr. Pulse Keeper.” There it was.

She caught her reflection in the mirror, her smile deepening. “I suppose it’s time to say hello to my doctor,” she murmured.

Without hesitation, she dialled his number, sinking into the plush comfort of her queen-sized round bed as the ringing filled the silence. The sound stopped abruptly.

“Hello.”

His voice came through richer, deeper, and more magnetic than she remembered. She closed her eyes, exhaling softly, letting the sound wash over her.

“Has anyone ever told you,” she teased, her tone light yet purposeful, “that you have the most captivating voice, Dr. Pulse Keeper?”

Zehraan paused for a moment on the other end of the line, clearly taken aback by the unexpected compliment.

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Ferisha bit her lip, trying to contain her nervous excitement. “I mean it. Your voice… it’s captivating. It’s like it has its charm.”

Zehraan chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m sorry, but… who is this?”

Her heart raced. This was it—the moment she’d been imagining for two years. She sat up on her bed, clutching the phone tighter. “Someone who’s been silently admiring you for a while now.”

There was a silence on the other end, and for a second, she wondered if he was about to hang up. Instead, he spoke again, his tone more curious than before. “Silently admiring me? That’s…creepy and unexpected at the same time. Well, if you are someone pulling a prank on me, then please get back. It isn't going to work on me?”

“No pranks! No game, Dr. Everyone is as real as your heart beats which is pounding like a wild.” She said with a smirk on her face.

“Oh! I guess you know too much.” His voice sounded like mockery.

“Yes, Doctor, I know you. Zehraan Ali Nawaz, age 21, birthday, 09 November. Your favourite colours are navy blue and olive green. Your go-to coffee order—a cappuccino with extra sugar. Your dream of becoming a doctor. I know it all.”

Zehraan let out a surprised laugh, clearly baffled. “Okay, this is… interesting. But you still haven’t told me your name.”

She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to reveal herself. But then, with a deep breath, she decided it was now or never. “You can call me Your Pretty Admirer.”

There was another pause, this one longer than the last. She could almost picture him frowning, trying to place her name in his memory.

“Or a stalker?” he said sarcastically, “and who knows if you are even pretty or not. Don't be self-obsessed, kid.” he laughed.

She smiled, her confidence returning. “Um! Honestly, I don't mind you calling me a stalker. Because I feel I'm a one. So, know me as your pretty little stalker. But not creepy.”

Zehraan’s voice softened. “How would I know that miss stalker?”

Ferisha took a deep breath, “If I was creepy, you wouldn't be sleeping peacefully for the last 2 years, Future Doctor.”

Zehraan's voice sounded shocked, “2 years.” he chuckled, “So what do you want now?”

Ferisha glanced around her room, her packed suitcases neatly lined up and the plane ticket resting on her bedside table. She took a deep breath, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I just needed to hear your voice,” she said, her tone teasing, “and to warn you—stay away from girls. I’m the jealous type, and my temper’s no joke.”

On the other end of the line, Zehraan chuckled, his laughter warm and amused.

“Keep laughing, Dr. Perfect,” she continued, her voice playful. “Because one mistake and that laugh of yours will be over.”

Zehraan shook his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “God, kids these days.”

Ferisha smirked, twirling a strand of her hair. “Laugh all you want, but I’m serious. Best of luck with your studies. Oh, and I’ll be back for your graduation ceremony—so don’t forget that you’re mine, Dr. Pulse Keeper.”

He sighed dramatically. “I’d love to see you around,” he replied, the teasing tone still lingering in his voice.

She chuckled, reclining back on her bed. “Good. Because you’re going to see me sooner than you think. And don’t forget—no girls!”

Zehraan laughed again, the sound making her grin. “Got it. I’ll make sure to wear a sign that says ‘Stay Away.’ Happy now?”

“Very,” she said smugly. “And don’t even think about forgetting me while I’m gone.”

“Not a chance, Miss Jealous, short-tempered, self-centred stalker,” he replied, his tone softening. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

Ferisha felt her heart flutter at his words, but she quickly masked it with a playful tone. “I’ll miss you, Dr. Perfect. Stay out of trouble until I’m back.”

“Deal,”

As the call ended, she stared at her phone for a moment before placing it back on the table. A mix of emotions swirled inside her—excitement for her new journey and a bittersweet longing for the life she was leaving behind.

She walked to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with determination. “I’ll be back, Dr. Pulse Keeper,” she whispered with a small smile. “And I’ll make sure you stay from everything I hate.”

Soon after, her father, Haider Raees Ahmed, called out loud, “Ferisha! Let’s go, beta. Or you’ll miss your flight,” his voice steady yet urging.

Ferisha glanced one last time at her room. The place she had laughed, dreamed, and spent countless hours thinking about Zehraan. With a sigh, she replied, “Coming, Dad!”

As she opened her door, a group of helpers entered, picking up her luggage. She followed them down the grand staircase, her heart heavy with anticipation and bittersweet emotions.

---

Zehraan’s POV

He leaned back in his chair, the faint glow of his desk lamp illuminating the small, organized mess of his study table. His books lay open, a mug of now-cold coffee pushed to the side. But his thoughts? They were far from his studies now.

“Dr. Pulse Keeper,” he murmured with a chuckle, remembering her words from the call. He shook his head with a small smile on his face.

Her voice had been filled with an odd mix of confidence and playfulness. The way she teased him, warned him about staying away from other girls, and called him hers—it was almost surreal. It wasn’t every day someone declared their possessiveness over him so blatantly.

“Jealous type and short-tempered?” he muttered, smirking. “Kid these days. Extremely self-obsessed.”

He recalled the way she said she’d be at his graduation ceremony like it was an unspoken rule that he belonged to her. It was amusing, almost childish, yet strangely endearing.

“Who even says things like that?” he mused, spinning his pen between his fingers. “She’s such a kid.”

But despite his words, there was something about her energy that lingered in his mind. Her laugh, her playful threats, and the way she casually threw in her confidence—she was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered.

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair again. “Self-obsessed stalker,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. But deep down, he knew something was refreshing about her boldness, something that made him look forward to hearing from her again.

Zehraan reached for his books, forcing himself to focus. Yet, somewhere in the corner of his mind, Ferisha’s voice lingered, making him smile as he dived back into his studies.

___

A month later.

Ferisha's days in London were busy and full of new experiences. The picturesque campus of London Business School, the lively city streets, and her growing circle of friends kept her occupied. Yet, no matter how much she tried to immerse herself in her new life, her mind always wandered back to him.

Zehraan.

His voice, his laugh, his confident demeanour—it all played on repeat in her head. Every now and then, she’d catch herself staring at her phone, hoping for a reason to reach out to him again. But she couldn’t just call him. That would be too bold, even for her.

Then one evening, as she lay on her bed scrolling through her social media, an idea struck her. With a mischievous smile, she created a new Instagram account.

Username: Pretty Stalker.

Bio: You can't get away from me, Dr. Pulse Keeper.

She laughed to herself as she typed the words, feeling a little silly but entirely amused. She searched for his profile, her heart racing when his name popped up. Without hesitating, she sent him a follow request.

“He’s never going to accept this,” she murmured, biting her lip.

But to her surprise, within minutes, the notification popped up : Zehraan Ali Nawaz accepted your follow request.

Her heart skipped a beat. “He actually accepted it!” she exclaimed, clutching her phone tightly. Her excitement was uncontrollable as she rolled on the bed. She couldn't believe that she was drooling over a guy. She scrolled through his posts. Pictures of him studying, hanging out with friends, and even candid shots of him during basketball games. He looked even better than she remembered.

She liked a few posts hesitantly, not wanting to come across as too eager. And then, she saw it— a new story he’d posted of a steaming cup of cappuccino and his book with the caption: Caffeine is life.

Without thinking, she replied, “Don’t forget to add extra sugar to ease your stress, Dr. Pulse Keeper.”

The moment she hit send, she froze. “Oh no, was that too much? Why I'm behaving like this?” she whispered, staring at her phone in panic.

Her phone vibrated almost instantly. It was his reply.

Zehraan: “Well, well. Is this my self-proclaimed stalker? I see you’ve levelled up.”

Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she read his message. She quickly typed back, “Just keeping an eye on my favourite doctor in the making.”

Zehraan: “Favorite, huh? Bold of you, but sadly, you are not my favourite stalker, proclaimed stalker. 😂”

She giggled, biting her lip as she typed, “It's ok to be delusional. I can understand your self-obsession too, but you may look around clearly; I’m your only stalker, Dr. Perfect.”

On the other side of the world, Zehraan leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a grin. This girl—she was impossible. He was taking her as a little girl who just got a crush on someone and behaving like she owned him. She became his entertainment source.

Zehraan: “Okay My Proclaimed stalker. But you are extra delusional than me. So be care full, it's not good for health. And now, leave me alone for sometime. I have to study.”

“Okay Dr. Perfect. Study Hard.”

Ferisha smiled, her heart full. Even though they were miles apart, this small connection was enough to make her feel close to him. For now, it was all she needed.

To Be Continued... 🦋

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