The air inside Second Cup Café was thick with coffee and chatter, but at one corner, the atmosphere was different — heavier, more commanding. Rajab Butt, a towering 6’3 burly figure with a beard and muscular frame, stood with his best friend Haider and Haider’s younger brother Dogar. Dressed in a fitted shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, watch glinting, Rajab carried himself with the easy arrogance of a man who owned whatever space he occupied.

He wasn’t here for coffee. He was here because Dogar had told him she might show up. The second Rajab had heard about YN, he hadn’t been able to shake the thought of her — curves, mind, and the way she wasn’t like the rest.

And then, the door opened. She walked in — YN Khan. Hourglass figure, chubby cheeks, glossy hair brushing her waist, dressed simply yet commanding eyes without even trying. Dogar almost fumbled his cup, Haider shot him a smirk, but Rajab? He didn’t move. Just watched, silent for a moment, before stepping forward.

His voice came deep, calm, with that mix of arrogance and easygoing confidence he wore like cologne.

Rajab Butt (looking straight at her, a slow grin tugging his beard): “Tumhi ho… jis ladki ki baat Dogar ne ki thi. Samajh nahi aa raha… tum itni simple lag kar bhi is crowd mein sabse zyada alag kaise khadi ho.”

He took another step, his presence filling the space between them.

Rajab Butt (chuckling, shaking his head slightly): “Main Rajab Butt. Naam suna hoga… aur agar nahi suna, toh sunna chahiye tha.”

Haider (from behind, muttering to Dogar with a smirk): “Bas, ab dekhna… phas gaya ya phasa liya.”