The world is a lie – 6

The scene cuts.

​Noor thought to himself, 'It's already afternoon. Let me try calling him now.'

​Meanwhile, across town, Johnny and Sabbir were sitting inside a local eatery, having their afternoon meal. Suddenly, Johnny's phone began to ring. Johnny picked up the call and answered in a cold voice, "Hello, who is this?"

​Noor replied calmly, "It's me, Noor."

​Johnny was completely taken aback. "How on earth did you get my number?"

​Noor chuckled over the phone, "Oh, your friend gave it to me."

​Sitting right across the table, Sabbir heard every single word clearly. He immediately tried to hide his face and smirked, knowing exactly what he had done. Johnny glared sharply at Sabbir, thinking to himself, 'So, you're the one who blabbered, huh?'

​Ignoring Sabbir for a moment, Johnny focused back on the call. Noor spoke up, "Let's meet again."

​"No," Johnny replied firmly. "Don't even try."

​Noor continued, "Alright, but listen to me. I like you. You fight incredibly well. I just want us to form a team together."

​Hearing this, Johnny abruptly stood up from his chair and walked out of the eatery. Sabbir felt a bit awkward left behind, so he quickly paid the bill for both of their meals and rushed out after Johnny.

​Once outside, Johnny spoke into the phone with a heavy voice, "Do you have any idea how much hardship it takes to build a team? To form a team, you need a powerful reason—a reason for which you are willing to fight against the entire world. Do you even have a reason like that?"

​Noor's voice turned remarkably calm and quiet. "Yes, I have my reason."

​Hearing the sheer seriousness in Noor's tone, Johnny paused. "What reason?"

​Noor said softly, "Then listen..."

​The scene abruptly cuts here, shifting focus toward Noor's family.

Noor looked at his father and asked, "What are you doing, Father?"

​His father smiled, adjusting his clothes. "I'm getting ready. Today is a very special person's birthday, so I'm going out to buy something."

​Noor raised an eyebrow. "For Mom, right?"

​His father looked surprised. "How on earth did you know that? Well, of course you'd know—she is your mother, after all."

​Noor replied, "Yes. A few days ago, when I took photocopies of your National ID cards for my Class 10 admission, I happened to see her birth date there." Noor paused for a moment before asking, "By the way, Father... who do you love more? Me, or Mom?"

​His father laughed softly. "Ah, so that's what you want to know?"

​Noor smiled, "Yes, tell me, Father."

​His father grabbed his wallet and said, "Alright, come along with me today. Let me tell you some strange, unspoken truths about human nature."

​Noor's eyes lit up. "Are they like ghost stories or riddles?"

​"Yes, if that's what you want to hear," his father replied.

​"Then I am definitely coming. Today is going to be fun!" Noor said. "Should we walk, or take a rickshaw?"

​"Let's walk," Noor suggested.

​His father sighed softly, a wave of nostalgia hitting him. "I used to say the exact same thing when I was with my own father. Walking allowed me to talk to him about so many things. Yet, I could never stand in front of him for too long. He had a strict rule: 'Never speak blindly. Always bring proof before you talk.' That is exactly why I became a journalist. I only want to make people hear the absolute truth."

​Noor asked, "But Father, what exactly is the truth?"

​His father looked down the road thoughtfully. "In my opinion, the truth is something that everyone already knows and understands deep down. It's what they secretly think about. Everyone knows everything, but nobody shows it in front of others. Because there is a saying, Noor—people love the truth, but they absolutely hate the person who speaks it."

​Noor processed the words. "Does that mean we shouldn't speak the truth?"

​"We should," his father replied firmly. "If we don't speak the truth to people, what answer will we give after death? That is why we must always speak the truth, and everyone deserves to know it. Do you understand?"

​Noor nodded slowly. "So, we should only speak the truth when we have solid proof."

​But internally, Noor thought to himself, 'I should change the topic now, otherwise this conversation will get too heavy and lose its mystery.' Aloud, he said, "Yes, exactly. But Father, you were about to tell me something else. First, tell me... who is my grandfather? And why did we leave them to live here? We don't even go to visit grandfather's house."

​His father took a deep breath. "Since I just said everyone deserves to know the truth, and you are old enough now, you should know this story. Listen..."

​He began recounting the past. "A long time ago, I fell deeply in love with a girl. With great difficulty, I gathered the courage to confess my feelings to her. But she didn't say a word. She just walked away from there. So, I decided to do some investigative digging on her background—which wasn't too hard for me since I was working as a TV reporter back then."

​His father continued, "Through a contact, I found out that she used to have a close friend who was in a relationship with a very wealthy guy. After a while, that rich guy used her friend, impregnated her, and brutally abandoned her. Deastated, the friend committed suicide. Ever since that tragedy, the girl stopped talking to anyone. After learning this, I decided that instead of pressuring her directly, I should talk to my own father first."

​Noor interrupted softly, "That girl... was Mom, right?"

​"Yes, she was," his father nodded, his eyes softening. "Because of her silence, I went to my father and told him that I liked a girl. My father instantly assumed I must have chosen a girl from a massive, wealthy family—something that would lift our family status even higher. He happily said, 'Alright, bring the girl home.' My mother was ecstatic as well. So, I went back to your mother and told her that I wanted to marry her. But she flatly refused, saying, 'First, you must go and meet my father at the orphanage.'"

​Noor listened intently as his father revealed, "Your mother was an orphan girl, left at that ashram by a stranger years ago. When I went there to speak with the authorities, they told me a tragic story. They said a girl from their ashram had recently passed away under bad circumstances. Because of that, they had made a strict, mandatory rule: if any girl was to leave the ashram for marriage, the groom had to say 'Qubool' (I accept) three times right there before he could take her away."

​His father sighed, "I tried explaining my family background and my parents' status, but they refused to budge. Left with no choice, I handed over all my IDs and credentials. In a sudden rush of youthful impulse, I stood right there in front of her and said 'Qubool' three times. I figured since my parents were already onboard, doing the ritual early wouldn't cause any harm, and we could just throw a small ceremony once we got back home. But later, when I finally brought your mother to our house, I had to lay out the whole truth to my parents..."