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Markhor
…in search of the unseen
Abdul Samad Khan
Daastan PVT LTD
House # A-41, Madni Street, Lala Rukh, Wah Cantt, Punjab 47040
Text copyright © Abdul Samad Khan Book cover copyright © Abdul Jabbar Shah
Formatted & Illustrated by Maliha Zafar
The moral rights of the writer and illustrator have been asserted. All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN 978-969-696-621-0
Printed and bound in Pakistan by Pixel Printing Solutions
Acknowledgements
I am immensely grateful to Daastan and its CEO, Syed Ommer Amer, who has been instrumental in the publication of this work. Additional thanks go to the incredibly talented members of the Daastan team－ Miss Shafaq and Miss Haiqa from the editorial board, as well as Miss Maliha Zafar, who lent her ingenuity to the final layout of this book.
Furthermore, I want to extend my acknowledgement to Shakira binte Shakir and Jamshaid Razaq for keenly reviewing the book under the Youth Impact lenses. They impressively infused the values of Youth Impact, patriotism, and Iqbaliat into the writings.
Finally, I am eternally thankful to Mr. Saad Tariq Siddiqi, the President of Youth Impact and a living legend who has mentored and inspired three generations of outdoor enthusiasts, adventurers and soul searchers. Sir, you are the greatest inspiration for hundreds and thousands of young people who love you and follow you on their path of finding their own Markhor.
I dedicate this writing to every single Markhor, who joined in this journey and, inspired with the Markhor spirit, is now driving social change around themselves; a change that sparks in the freezing cold nights on top of mountains and spreads everywhere.
Contents
The East - Enlightenment or Escape?
Different Paths, One Destination
Preface
Markhor has always been there, but it was only in 2013 when it was characterized in its existing form, where team Youth Impact decided to launch Pakistan’s premium wilderness-based youth leadership conference named Markhor. Since then, Markhor has touched thousands of young lives, transformed hundreds of souls and is actively shaping the future of our world by channelizing young energy.
Being a dreamer, I have always had Markhor in my conscious and subconscious thoughts. I am someone who experiences and lives the Markhor spirit every single day. And that’s exactly how the interesting script of this book was revealed to me. Just a week before the Markhor conference, I got on the bed after an exhausting day, overwhelmed by the preparations to launch Markhor. At midnight, I observed that my brain gets activated and radiates a thought which I instantly capture on my bedside notebook. Those notes, in the form of this book’s outline, are still with me and always bring a smile to my face.
That is how the story of this book was gifted to me. And today, I am feeling grateful for being able to bring it to all the young people of the world, to inspire their lives with a greater sense of meaning and purpose which they can direct to the process of discovering themselves. With this, I hope they learn the importance of resilience, adaptability, resourcefulness and most importantly, the essence of the survival instinct to be a Markhor.
This adventure-filled, fictional journey of young souls will take you through the entire journey of Markhor; a journey that hundreds of youth have taken in the past, up in the magnificent
Himalayas. It’s now your time to enthuse yourself with the Markhor spirit.
On your marks. Get set. Markhor!
Abdul Samad Khan
September 11, 2021
Markhor
…in search of the unseen
I
The First Infatuation
9t پ˜ا ˛=iا لs˛eا اے ں9ç sz¸gi szsz9bڈ
,˛e ں9ç ل¿=e ,ç پ˜ا ،¸es˛e sç9s ,ç پ˜ا
[O Iqbal! I am in constant search for myself; I am the traveler as well as the destination]
一Bang e Dara
Splashing water on his face was not enough to get rid of the awe that Deniz was in. Living in a village at the foot of the Kackar Mountains, he had never imagined that something akin to cattle could ever leave such an impact on him even though he was brought up in a place where life was dependent on livestock.
Yet, there he was, thinking about that majestic creature again and again. A distant relative of the goat, its spiraling horns, its strong build, and that luscious fur.
“Markhor,” he murmured the name of the royalty among mountain goats.
Crossing the stone bridge, he trudged down to the tea farms to help his father with the harvest.
“Deniz, go away, you will ruin your new shirt here.”
Deniz’s father never wanted him to work there with him. He always came up with an excuse to send him away from the field.
“Can I just stand here on the side, baba?”
Deniz was not willing to leave yet. Father nodded in agreement as he continued to gather leaves.
Meanwhile, Deniz had a flashback of when his teacher had shown a picture in their class. It depicted a mountain goat, standing gracefully in a setting much like the one he was in right now. It seemed to be staring right into his soul.
“Baba, why can’t a Markhor live here?” Deniz questioned unprecedentedly.
“ne?” (A what?)
A giggle escaped his father’s mouth as he thought his son had made up the word.
“Nothing,” he replied with a perplexed look on his face which was not unfamiliar to those who were close to him.
Before he could be questioned any further, Deniz ran away. He felt stupid, asking a question he was so uncertain about.
“Deniz wait! Tell me about it.” His father tried making amends, but instead, he witnessed Deniz run away with embarrassment.
At the dinner table that night, Deniz was silent when his father joined him.
“So what did you learn today, young man?”
Sensing tension in the air, his mother asked Deniz about his studies. Before the ten-year-old could say anything, his father jumped in on the conversation.
“Deniz learned about a Markhor today, didn’t you Deniz?”
Deniz was still finding the words to respond when his father added,
“It’s a mountain goat, the national animal of... I guess Pakistan. It is very strong and powerful, like my boy here, you know.”
Father looked at Deniz with a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye.
Deniz didn't know how his father knew all that, but it didn’t really matter. This conversation was all that he wanted that day.
II
Past meets Future
ی¸z ہs z ˛sا دے لzc ,t ,˛,z ¿cg
s˛zد ,t تs=Zoe ˛gcz ˛ç ,çر ×µc
[A call to you is sent by the world of possibilities, Just a glance of yours may transform it]
一Zarb-e-Kaleem
“Chris. Wait, where is that Turk?”
“His name is Deniz,” Chris replied, annoyed at Hafsa’s inquiry. Hafsa continued without paying any heed.
“We had to meet up for a discussion. You know how big this project is. Tell me he is!”
Chris stopped outside the University library and pointed towards Deniz who was sitting alone in a corner, immersed in his laptop.
“Oh, there you are!” Hafsa exclaimed as she walked towards the sofa beside Deniz’s chair. Chris followed her.
“Shhh. It’s a library.” Chris tried his luck again to try and teach Hafsa some socially acceptable behaviors.
“Oh sorry.” Hafsa had the talent of detaching meanings from words with her indifferent tone. She picked up Deniz’s bag, tapped his shoulder, pointed towards the gate, and stormed out.
“Huff!” Chris was reluctant to leave the comfort of the library. With dismay, he stood up to leave.
He whispered, “come on Deniz, the ‘scarf head’ awaits.” He didn’t really like Hafsa’s quirkiness, but the professor grouped them together and so he decided to deal with it in a manner he knew best as ‘passive aggressive’.
Meanwhile, Deniz was lost in thought, not responding to anything.
“Hello?” Chris went a little louder this time as he shook Deniz’s shoulder, trying to bring him back to the world.
“Oh hey, Chris. I was just looking for details on the list of animals Prof. Andrew had provided,” Deniz explained himself.
“This, my friend, is a talent I need to learn from you. I mean how can someone tune out of their existence while still being in the present? Wow.” Chris added sarcastically. Deniz gave an uncomfortable laugh as he tried to find his bag.
“She took it,” Chris revealed. “Who?” Deniz asked.
“I did. Why do you carry such a raggedy old bag anyway?” Hafsa inquired as she rushed back towards them, tired of waiting outside.
“My mom made it for me,” Deniz said softly.
“Let’s go, guys, please, I have already reserved the meeting room which was supposed to be reserved by this man over here,” ignoring Deniz, Hafsa pointed at Chris accusingly.
“It is available for half an hour and we are already 10 minutes late.” She added as she started to walk backwards, facing them both.
“I am sorry. It was my fault, let’s go.” Deniz took responsibility for the delay and started walking ahead with Hafsa and Chris.
“I was collecting some data for the endangered wildlife project,” Deniz added.
“Oh great, at least one of you is being productive here,” Hafsa said, taunting Chris again.
“Come on, I already told you the reason. I had to take a friend of mine to the campus’s infirmary as he was having a migraine attack.” Chris tried explaining himself again.
“So, here we are ladies.” Hafsa rolled her eyes in reply and opened the door to a small meeting room. With a big, fake smile, she welcomed them both in. Deniz and Chris knew no other words could soothe her unless they were about the project.
“Okay, so what have you got so far Deniz?” Chris extended his hand to grab Deniz’s laptop as they settled in cozy chairs in the carpeted room.
“Umm, it is not much. I have details about the first five of the 20 animals on the list.”
“And?” Chris demanded further insight as he scrolled down the open word document on Deniz’s laptop.
“Umm. I didn’t like….”
“The polar bear seems interesting,” Chris cut Deniz halfway.
“Oh sorry, you were saying something?” realizing his interruption, Chris asked.
“It was nothing, let me see that again please.” Deniz held back his views and asked for his laptop back to revisit details on the polar bears. Meanwhile, Hafsa was immersed in her cellphone, taking no part in the ongoing conversation.
“Look Hafsa, Chris is suggesting we work on polar bears,” said Deniz pointedly, demanding her attention.
Hafsa looked up from her mobile phone and said in an indifferent tone,
“Polar bears? No way! No one can survive at the poles in the summer, let alone the winter.”
Hafsa had voiced the concern Deniz was shying away from.
“Okay, so you tell us which endangered animal we should pick.” Chris threw the ball in Hafsa’s court.
“I know exactly which animal it should be. The white rhinoceros. They are in a sanctuary in Africa, easily accessible and there is a catchy background story about them as well. It would be easy to make an interesting project out of it,” She added after a pause.
“Well, aren’t they the ones who only have one couple left?” Chris asked
“Exactly, those love birds, or shall I say love rhinos,” Hafsa chuckled as she had revamped the phrase.
“So if there are only two left and they are already in a sanctuary, why is there a need to feature them? The saved don’t need saving. Our project is supposed to be around a topic which is not getting its due attention.” Chris provided a valid argument. Before Hafsa could muster up a response, he diverted the conversation towards Deniz.
“Don’t you agree bro?” Chris asked.
Deniz was preoccupied with his laptop, his eyes wide open. He was stunned by the sight. It was an image. An image that had resurfaced from the depth of his memory lane. Snow-capped mountains in the background, a steep precipice, and there it stood; the four-legged majesty: the Markhor.
“Give me your laptop. You can’t work with this thing distracting you.” Hafsa snatched the laptop from Deniz before he could resist the attack, breaking the spell he was in.
“Oh, what’s that?” Chris had got a glimpse of the screen.
“Give it back!” Deniz yelled furiously as he grabbed the laptop back from Hafsa.
“Relax dude, I was just trying to help you decide…” Hafsa tried to pacify him. “It is not like it was a love letter or something.” She laughed. “Be quiet, please,” Chris intervened upon seeing the seriousness on Deniz’s face.
“Fine!” This was Hafsa’s typical response to anyone who told her to back off. Everyone was silent for a while.
“It is a Markhor,” Deniz said in his Turkish accent, breaking the awkward silence.
“You mean a Markhor?” Hafsa corrected him.
“Oh, it is our national animal… I mean my country’s,” she continued.
“I forgot you were from Pakistan,” Deniz replied in astonishment.
“I am. I am a proud Pakistani,” Hafsa replied with an even bigger smile this time.
“I wonder what there is to be proud of,” Chris said under his breath with a slight smirk.
“What did you say?” Hafsa asked in a menacing tone.
“Nothing, I was just wondering if this could be our featured animal or not,” Chris said, attempting to cover his taunting remark.
Deniz looked at him with the delight of a child receiving the exact birthday present he had wished for.
“This is not a bad idea. The weather is not that bad in Pakistan, Markhors are not given much international attention and I have people there who can help us around as well.” Hafsa listed all the pros she could, but she was subconsciously trying to persuade her teammates so she could go back to her homeland once again.
“You can?” Deniz asked, excited.
“Yes sir, just say the word, I can Whatsapp my genie right away,” Hafsa replied.
They both turned towards Chris for an answer. Meanwhile, Chris couldn’t believe what was happening. He had just floated a balloon of an idea in the air as a distraction and they were actually considering flying it across the ocean.
“I don’t know much about it,” Chris said with uncertainty.
“Let’s research then,” Deniz started opening up tabs on his search engine one after the other.
“There is a place that is declared a sanctuary for them in Chit-rel, Gol National Park, it says. Is this in Pakistan?”
“Yes, it’s Chitral, in the North of Pakistan. Hey look, it also says that in the winters the Markhor descends the mountains to survive the harsh weather. This means we can access them easily I suppose,” Hafsa noted, reading the information over Deniz’s shoulder.
“I think this is it. We should go with this,” Hafsa declared.
“Markhor it is then. What do you say, Chris?” Deniz urged. Chris was still skeptical.
“Speak up Chris, we don’t have much time. It is almost time for our next lecture,” Hafsa pressed.
Before he could say anything, a well-dressed lady with big glasses entered the room and politely announced, “The next batch is waiting. Can you please vacate the syndicate?”
They saw students behind her waiting for their turn and so, they gathered their stuff and exited the room. As they passed the hallway, Hafsa began questing Chris again.
“So should we submit our choice and request a grant? Because you know it is a first-come, first-served basis here at the university. If we don’t hurry, somebody else will get a bigger slice of the cake, if you know what I mean…” she continued, hoping to persuade the remaining members of the group.
“Okay,” Chris replied in a harsh tone. “Okay?” Deniz asked in disbelief.
“Yes, okay, the Markhor it is, but please make her stop talking,” Chris responded more calmly this time as he looked at Hafsa.
Deniz smiled back at him as they entered their classroom for the next lecture.
III
The East - Enlightenment or Escape?
gZçد sqe ، gZçد zıe ، gZçد ,˛eز ، gZz˜
ا ل9gt gZçد ذرا 9t رج9s ˛:9ç ˛z¸gcا ˛s ق¸÷e
[Open your eyes and look at the earth, the sky and the horizon
And look at the sun rising from the East]
一Bal-e-Jibril
It was a crisp Sunday morning. Chris could hear chattering downstairs. The alarm rang on his phone.
‘Today is a new day to make things better’ the screen read.
With a scoff, he snoozed it and nestled beneath the covers once more.
These words never meant anything to him or made any sort of improvement in his morning ritual. He cloaked himself from the morning sun that shone brightly outside his window, thinking of all the reasons to stay in bed for the rest of the day. He always felt drained of his energy.
“What is life for you, Chris?” His father once asked as his son lay on a hospital bed after a failed suicide attempt.
“Insipid,” Chris said and turned the other way. He recalled this conversation daily and wondered what would have happened if he would have succeeded in his attempt. He was called ungrateful by some and weak by others after this.
“Why are you so desperate to die? We all will eventually, can’t you just wait till then?” His older brother asked desperately time and time again so Chris might be able to move on in life.
“I guess I can.” This was all Chris said. Deep down, he knew that it was never about why he wanted to die. The question always was: why should he live?
“Chris, we are waiting for you!” His mother called, followed by some muffled discussion. He knew what was to come. He jumped out of bed and into the bathroom in a flash. Footsteps approached the door.
“Chris, are you there?” His father came to check on him. Seeing the bed empty, he got a little worried.
“Are you inside, buddy?” He knocked on the bathroom door in concern.
Chris turned on the faucet without saying anything and sat quietly beside the bathtub, hoping his father might leave.
“Are you okay, Chris?” The silence augmented his concern. Angrily, Chris came out of the bathroom.
“For God’s sake dad, I am not cutting my wrist inside, I am not going to do that again.”
“Promise me.” His father’s eyes welled up.
“Ugh, God!” Chris’s anger peaked as he walked downstairs to the dining area.
“I am leaving next month for Pakistan,” Chris announced in anger as if this were the ultimate revenge for his overly concerned parents.
“Was this the only time you had to make jokes?” His brother chuckled as he buttered some bread.
“I am serious; I am going to Pakistan for a project related to endangered species”.
Everyone stared at him in disbelief now, dumbfounded. The silence only broke when his mother crossed the kitchen counter with a kettle in her hand.
“Dear, please eat something with us today, we will discuss this later,” she said calmly.
Chris was surprised to hear this nonchalant statement coming from his mother’s mouth who was often, if not always, highly emotional. At least therapy is working for her, Chris thought to himself.
Perplexed, he didn’t know what to say to this and sat at the table silently avoiding eye contact with everyone. His father, who had stood frozen on the staircase listening in on the conversation, now joined them. He shook his head at the senseless argument his son was making.
“Please stop playing with the cutlery and have something. You haven’t had breakfast with us in a while.” Chris’s mother passed some bread to him as she attempted to avoid the mention of any traveling plans again.
“I can’t. I just can’t. Why? Why are you going to Pakistan?” His father burst out, unable to maintain his composure.
“For the project, I told you,” Chris answered.
“Oh dear God, Bert, let my baby have some food in peace,” his mother held Humberto’s hand and added.
“I am not your baby anymore mom, and don’t pretend that you don’t want to ask the same things dad is asking.” Something snapped inside Chris. He pushed the chair away and stood up from the table.
“How dare you talk to her like that?” Humberto, who was already angry, now raised his voice to match Chris’s frequency.
“And this doesn’t look like a project, rather just another suicide attempt. I mean Pakistan! Why on earth would you choose a country full of terrorists?” His father continued.
“Maybe it is! But whatever it is, I am doing this.” Chris yelled as he marched towards the stairs and went inside his room again, shutting the door hard.
“Christian? Christian! Why do you always have to upset him? You always do this. This anger of yours will kill my son someday!” Infuriated, his mother started yelling at Bert.
“Mom, did you not hear what he just said? Pakistan, out of all the places in the world, your dear son chose Pakistan. He will die there, if not by terrorism then maybe because of some plague,” Chris’s brother stated, being his father’s advocate as always.
“He just presented an idea! We could have made him understand but this angry person here just does not have any control over his tongue.” His mother sat in a chair crying and blaming her husband once again.
“Dad is not wrong here, mom,” Chris’s brother Mathew reasoned.
“No, your mother is right, son. I am the cause of his troubles. I am the cause of all your troubles.” Bert couldn’t bear the hatred his wife was brewing against him at breakfast. Their marriage was at rock bottom yet they tried making an effort to keep it afloat.
“I can’t let my son take his own life!” He thundered, slamming the door behind him as he left the house in anguish.
Christian could hear them all debating this, but he was distracted by his own emotions, so much so that this matter seemed unworthy of his attention. Up till now, he was confused, not sure whether he should go to Pakistan or not. But after all this, it seemed like an escape from his bleak reality. This just made the decision more and more tempting.
“Are you awake?” Chris heard someone ask, followed by a knock. He tried to regain his senses after a long slumber. It was almost nighttime.
“You weren’t answering your phone so, we thought…” “Maybe it is a bad idea, maybe we should leave,” Chris
heard Deniz whispering this to someone as he got closer to
the door.
“No, we need him to give us the information, tonight is the last date,” Hafsa insisted.
“Chris, open the door. I know you don’t like me but please let me visit my country at least once on somebody else’s budget,” Hafsa shouted at the closed door, seconds before Chris opened it.
“Relax, woman,” Chris invited them inside his room with a fake smile.
“How are you, buddy? Your mom said you are not well but permitted us to come up here,” Deniz explained.
“I am fine now, just tired.” Chris didn’t know what else to say.
“Nice place!” Hafsa exclaimed as she went through the picture frames and bookshelves in his room.
“Thanks,” Chris replied casually as he tried finding the documents they needed.
“So, did you get everyone on board?” Deniz asked as he could sense a disturbance in the air.
“It is complicated, but I am going, don’t worry,” Chris smiled as he summarized the situation in as few words as possible. Hafsa turned and looked at him as if she wanted a bit more insight into the matter.
“Hello, kids. Chris, I have snacks for your friends.” Chris’s mother entered the room with a tray in her hand.
“So you are the ones Chris is planning the project with?” She brought the issue up regardless of the social convention of small talk first, which was generally her forte.
“Yes Ma’am, we are,” Deniz replied.
“And before you say anything, it is not me forcing him to go. I mean I do want to go to my country but this is after a mutual consensus.” Hafsa proactively tried deflecting the blame before its arrival. This is what she had learned from living in California.
“Oh, your country. You are from Pakistan, right?” Chris’s mother eyed Hafsa from top to bottom as she restructured her thoughts.
“Yes ma’am, and it is the most remarkable place. Well, except the pollution which has actually motivated me to come here, but the northern areas are a beauty. I mean it is a place you must visit at least once in a lifetime.” Hafsa didn’t know what she was saying but she sure was desperate to convince his mother.
“Certainly it must be,” Chris’s mother who came inside with an agenda now withheld her thoughts.
“But can’t it be any other place?” she couldn’t resist asking.
“No mom, no other place, Pakistan it is,” Chris replied furiously as he took the tray away from her and gestured for her to leave.
“Do you even know where Pakistan is? Huh, children? Bert suddenly appeared at the entrance of the room, addressing them all.
“You think that world is as comfortable as your homes here? You guys can’t even take a little scolding from your parents! How do you suppose those extremists will treat you there?” Bert continued, enraged.
“Oh stop it, Bert! I am sorry young lady. He is just upset to see his son leave.” sensing Hafsa’s discomfort, Chris’s mother tried to moderate the situation. Hafsa was furious. She wanted to retaliate, but before she could open her mouth Deniz intervened.
“EAST!” he said, “Pakistan is a country in the Eastern world, just above the Arabian sea.” Silence took over after that.
IV
The Awkward Flight
¸eی ¸geت ا;=˛:˜ روزssر ¿uاsjن اsZeر st ¿u¸eار ¸eا دل ، ¸eی رزم ssہ s˛zت
تs˛i st ,˛ãç ، ¸Z÷› ˛t ں9zsos
[My aspirations, my nature mirrors the times It’s the pastureland for thought gazelles
My heart serves as a battlefield of life, Where legions of doubt war with a firm belief]
一Bal-e-Jibril
“Baba, I hope you get my message when you wake up. I will be leaving for the airport in an hour. We will land in Islamabad. I have heard it is the second most beautiful capital in the world, but I know nothing can beat the beauty of my home. Pray that my journey provides me with everything I need.” Deniz writes, “Also, thank you.”
The second message was something he had always wanted to say to his father for all his efforts, his trust in Deniz, and his determination to provide Deniz with a life he never had. Deniz sent these two messages as he prepared to leave for the university.
Hafsa was already waiting for Deniz and Chris at the administration office. They had to pick tickets and permission letters, along with some other documents they might need for the trip from their university. Deniz left his dorm and walked towards the campus. Outside the Admin block stood Chris, along with his entire family. As Deniz walked towards them, he noticed that there was still some tension between Chris and his family. His father took out bags from the car’s trunk while his mother was crying while telling him something.
“I don’t know why you have to go there. Please, return to us safely. You know we are here for you if you are having second thoughts about it.” Chris’s mother said, still passively trying to convince him not to go.
“Relax mom, it will be fine… stop embarrassing me here please.” Chris was agitated as always.
“Oh dear, I don’t even know if they have proper houses to live in! Oh, and be cautious of the insects and wild animals. Where is that friend of yours who is from Pakistan? I want to ask her what her country is like. She seems decent enough.” His mother tried to locate Hafsa over Chris’s shoulder.
“That girl with the scarf? Yeah, she is the one you can trust. Chris can have the flight of his life, just like the passengers in that 9/11 aircraft did.” Bert said sarcastically as he put down Chris’s bag, not expecting anyone else to hear what he had just said. When he looked up, he saw Hafsa standing right in front of him along with Deniz. They had been on their way to the office.
“Let’s go, guys, we are getting late.” Chris pretended not to sense the awkwardness in the air and carried on. His family bid them goodbye and left while Mathew stayed to drop them off at the Airport.
“Okay, so you have a connecting flight. First, you will land at Doha airport. From there, after two hours, another flight will take you to Islamabad airport in Pakistan and then you will take a jet to Chitral. This is your destination of choice as told by your faculty. You will have to buy tickets to Chitral yourself from the money transferred to your accounts for the trip.” The admin officer said, explaining the plan. “Ma’am what about other things we need like rooms, a guide, etc.,” asked Chris, concerned with such an elusive action plan.
“This is all the university can facilitate you youngsters with. At least this is what I have been told,” she replied.
“Honestly, I would be concerned if I were you.” She was staring only at Chris as she added this. Unable to decipher the meaning behind her words, Chris turned back to leave.
“Hey,” Chris said to Hafsa as they moved outside. Hafsa who had been silent till now smiled in return.
“Come on children, let me take you to your destination,” Mathew said, breaking the ice with a pleasant statement as he welcomed them in his car. Deniz looked at Hafsa as they both sat in the backseat.
“You good?” Deniz asked. He felt a different vibe coming from her today.
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