White Roses Episode 07

White Roses as symbol of love 

Spell Over Spell

I stand here, drenched in tears,

The darkness of lifetimes is calling me.

The afternoon was waning. The rapidly moving clouds looked like tufts of cotton in the sky. The cool breeze was mitigating the intensity of the heat. The time for Asr was approaching.

Samaira was sitting on a cot in the veranda with Duha in her lap. As usual, Naheed was in the kitchen with Sahira, preparing food.

“Samaira, are you sitting idle?” Naheed's voice came from the kitchen.

“Yes, mom.”

“Do this then, wash your father's clothes.” Naheed peeked out to look at her.

“Oh God! Mom, I'm not washing them. I don't know how to do household chores. Besides, father won't like it; I can't get the stains out of clothes.” Samaira made a face.

“That’s why I keep telling you to learn the work. If you do the work, it will benefit you. It's just one pair of clothes. Can't you even wash that?”

“Alright.” She placed pillows around Duha so she wouldn't fall, got up, and put on her shoes to go pick up the clothes. She picked up two pairs of her own clothes as well.

She placed the clothes on the ground a little distance from the veranda. She filled two buckets with water, kept them nearby, took a washbasin, and started washing the clothes. She washed her own clothes first.

Naheed and Sahira were busy cooking. The aroma of the food was spreading throughout the house.

“Oh, my delicate back.” Samaaira got up and hung her scarf on the clothesline.

“You’ve only washed one scarf, and this is your condition.” Naheed taunted.

"Exactly. I’m not going to work in someone else's house." Samaira came back and started hanging her other clothes on the line.

"We'll see." Naheed shook her head while busy with her work. Sahira laughed.

Now she soaked Zakariya’s clothes in water but first took out some slips of paper from the pockets and went to put them in the room. She opened them in the room and saw they were movie tickets. She placed them on the dressing table with a frown, then returned and started washing the clothes.

"Wash the cuffs and collars properly; the stains don't come off easily." Naheed's advice could be heard.

"Okay, mom." Samaira turned the shirt inside out and began scrubbing it with detergent. When she opened the fold of the collar, she saw a mark there. A red stain. It didn't take her a second to recognize it as a lipstick mark.

"The stains don't come off." Naheed's voice echoed again. Indeed, how was she supposed to clean this stain? There wasn't any detergent for this kind of mark. She just kept scrubbing, the stain started to fade and then disappeared. She felt disgusted by her father's clothes.

There was the same red mark near the elbow on the sleeve. A strange smell started coming from the water. How many more stains did she have to wash?

"It's good mom didn't have to wash them; otherwise, she would have seen her husband's deeds." She kept thinking as she scrubbed the stains.

Naheed's voices were now lost somewhere in Samaira's thoughts. She finished washing the shirt, wrung it out, and hung it on the line but at a distance from her own clothes.

"Move aside, I'll wash the rest." Sahira smiled and sat down to wash the remaining clothes. Samaira washed her hands and went back to the veranda to sit with Duha.

"Does mom know? How must she feel knowing her husband is unfaithful?" She smiled and kissed Zuha lovingly.

The call for Asr prayer began. She quickly covered her head with her scarf and went to the washroom to perform ablution. When she came out, she saw Zakariya sitting on the cot drinking tea. Shahroz was holding Duha in his lap. She took a deep breath and went to pray.

The things Aneesa had said were now starting to seem true to her. People had indeed taken away her childhood and her father. When her father used to be out late into the night, Aneesa used to say there must be an affair. But at that time, Samaira would deny it. The seed of doubt had always been in Samaira’s heart; it had even sprouted occasionally, but today it had grown into a full tree.

☆☆☆☆☆

It was ten o'clock at night. The moon was peeking through the clouds. Samaira was lying in her room, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was miles away. The constant thoughts of Aneesa and Junaid were bothering her. She missed everyone. Warm tears were flowing from her temples and falling onto the pillow. She was crying quietly, taking suppressed sobs. She was alone in the room. She got up to drink water after a slight cough.

"If we were all together, this wouldn't have happened. There wouldn't have been any sorrow. Oh God! Only one person betrayed me in my life. He broke my heart. My father. Why... how? Have I committed any sin? Please forgive me. I have no sorrow, no concern with anyone. If you are with me, everything will be fine. There will be a ray of hope in my heart." She kept thinking while silently shedding tears. "There must be someone to help me. Show me a miracle too."

The mobile phone on the table vibrated. Her phone was on silent mode. The phone lit up. Samaira wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and picked up the phone. It was Behram calling.

"Hello! Samaira." He was lying in his room in dim light. He had just laid down to sleep after spending the day at the office. Now he was talking to Samaira. "How are you?" He asked, with one arm under his head.

"I'm fine." She replied in a choked voice.

"What were you doing? I hope I didn't disturb you." He smiled.

"No. Not at all. (I already was.)" Samaira turned to her right side.

"Okay. Why aren't you able to sleep tonight?"

"No, I was just about to sleep," she said softly.

"Okay. Is there any problem?"

"No."

"It sounds like it. Have you been crying?" Behram guessed from her voice.

"No. Tell me, how is Sarah?" Samaira suddenly thought of Sarah.

"Sarah is fine. She often mentions you, saying you're very nice."

Samaira smiled slightly.

"Tell her she is very nice herself. Good people are destined to meet good people."

Behram fell silent at Samaira's words. For a moment, he felt he was doing something wrong.

"But that's not always the case," he said softly.

"Maybe. Everyone has their own thoughts." Samaira didn't find it suitable to argue.

"Samaira, you seem mature to me," he laughed.

"And you seem like a child to me," she smiled.

"Really?" He laughed openly. No sound escaped from the soundproof room at this late hour.

"Yes."

"Why do I seem like a child to you?" He wanted to know.

"I don't know. Seeing you reminds me of little kids who are impatient, a bit angry, and..."

"And?"

"And mischievous," Samaira completed the sentence.

"I didn't know you had started to understand me so deeply." Behram removed his arm from under his head and turned to his left.

There was silence on the other end.

"Are you listening?" He now kept the phone to his ear, his arms wrapped around his chest.

"Yes."

"I liked it."

"What did you like?"

"I liked that you tried to understand me, but... you couldn't quite get there." He smiled. On the other side, Samaira just smiled back.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Behram broke the few seconds of silence.

"It's nothing like that."

"So, what are you busy with these days?" He lay back down.

"Nothing much. And you?"

"Me? Talking to you."

"Yes." She smiled a little. "And...?" Samaira wanted to ask something.

"Yes, go ahead."

"I wanted to ask something, but I don't know how you'll take it." She hesitated.

"I won't mind. Trust me and just say what you want to ask, because life doesn't give many opportunities," Behram closed his eyes.

"Your wife... where is she?"

Behram burst into laughter on the other end. He laughed and kept on laughing uncontrollably.

Samaira felt a bit confused. She thought she had asked a wrong question.

"If I were married, do you think I would be calling you?" He kept laughing.

"So, what would you be doing?" Samaira asked.

(In his mind, he thought, "You would be in front of me, and I would be looking at you.") "You would get angry. Leave it. Let's talk about something else."

"Something else? I'm getting sleepy, Behram. You should sleep too."

"Talking to you has taken away all my tiredness." Behram stretched.

"Meaning?"

"It felt good talking to you."

"Bye." She laughed and ended the call. Holding the phone to her lips, she kept smiling. The painful moments from a while ago suddenly turned into immense joy. She closed her eyes, and Behram face appeared in front of her.

She felt something warm falling on her forehead, as if something was dripping from the ceiling. She turned on the lamp, touched her forehead with her fingers, and brought them close to the light to see. Her breathing became rapid. She felt a weakness in her legs. Her lips began to move. Slowly, she lifted her neck and looked at the ceiling. Her soul shivered. She suddenly fell back on the bed and fainted.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself in an unfamiliar place. She was lying lifelessly on the ground. She had no dupatta around her neck. Her hair was loose and scattered. When she got up, she found dried leaves stuck in her disheveled hair. Summoning her courage, she stood up. It felt as though all her strength had left her. There were trees all around. It was a dark night. She was in a dense forest. She was wearing a white dress, stained with dirt and blood. Scattered around were the bones of dead animals. The sounds of ferocious wild animals echoed.

"Behram... Behram..." she started calling out for Behram. But why? Why Behram? Despite herself, the name Behram kept escaping her lips. She leaned against a tree and sat down on the ground, eventually lying down.

She heard the sound of footsteps on the dry leaves. Someone was approaching her. She tried to see but couldn't. She lay face down, exhausted on the ground. The person reached her, lifted her by her shoulders, and placed her head on his lap.

"Behram..." she called out in a faint voice, still in a daze.

"I'm here. Nothing will happen to you. Get up." Behram began to pat her face gently. Samaira grabbed his jacket and hugged him. She recognized him, his voice, the scent of his presence. With half-opened eyes, she looked at Behram and started crying.

"Behram... Behram..." she kept repeating his name like a mantra until she fell asleep. Behram was carrying her in his arms, walking steadily. A bright white light was shining, and she could see Behram's shadow in it. Then, darkness began to envelop everything, a deep black darkness.

In the next moment, Behram laid her on the ground and wrapped his jacket around her. Behram knelt beside her, then got up and stood a distance away. Behind Behram stood a woman who came forward. Samaira tried to see with her half-closed eyes, but she could only see Behram.

"Behram..." she extended her hand towards him. The woman standing with Behram moved forward and started sprinkling water on Samaira's face. Samaira turned her face away. The woman sat down beside her, turned Samaira's face towards her, and grabbed her jaw tightly. Samaira moaned in pain, feeling as if her jaw would break.

"No, Bilqis... leave her." Behram stepped forward.

Bilqis growled and moved away from Samaira with a jerk. Samaira looked at Behram in disbelief as he sat beside her. Her heart began to tremble with fear. Behram knelt down and hugged her. She looked at Bilqis, who had her eyes closed and was reciting something continuously. Samaira's lips also began to move rapidly. Suddenly, Bilqis opened her eyes and looked at Samaira, who was clinging to Behram. She started moving forward. Samaira's grip on Behram's shirt tightened, her lips moved faster, and her eyes widened with fear. Behram sat calmly, holding her close.

Bilqis picked up a stick lying nearby and struck Samaira's head with it twice with full force. The sudden attack left Behram momentarily stunned. He looked at Samaira's lifeless body in his arms and then at Bilqis.

"What have you done?" he roared.

"She was reciting the Quran, you fool," Bilqis glared.

Behram looked at Samaira and laid her down on the ground. He then stepped away.

"There is no disease that cannot be cured, except death. Everything else can be averted. Any spell can be broken. She was breaking the spell. Your months of hard work, your heavy price, everything was about to be reduced to ashes in a moment," Bilqis stood next to Behram. Both were watching Samaira.

"You know what would have happened if she had completed that Surah. Our attack would have backfired on us. I was beginning to forget the incantations. This was necessary, Behram," she shouted, explaining. She was angry. Bilqis turned her head and started reciting the incantations again. She placed her hand on Samaira's heart.

In a loud voice, she repeated something in Arabic over and over again. Moving her hand from Samaira's heart to her forehead, she repeated the same words and then stepped back. Standing next to Behram, she began to smile.

Samaira lay on the ground, unaware of the world around her. Her hair was disheveled, sticking to her face and neck. Behram's jacket lay by her arm. Her shoes were by her bare feet.

The darkness deepened. The black night grew even blacker until the first light of dawn began to break. Samaira tried to open her eyes, attempted to move her body. She turned her neck to the left and saw two figures walking away. One of them was Behram, but she couldn't recognize the other woman. She tried to call out to Behram, but her voice was stifled. The first blue light of dawn began to spread. She shivered suddenly.

The call to prayer was echoing in the distance. Samaira continued staring at the ceiling, her whole body drenched in sweat. A sharp pain started pounding in her head. She felt her scalp aching. Summoning her strength, she got up and walked to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt fear. Trying to remember something only intensified the pain in her head.

"Ahhh," she groaned. Her entire body ached. With great difficulty, she performed ablution and returned to her room.

"Was it a dream?" she thought as she picked up her prayer mat and spread it on the floor. She shook off the thoughts and began to pray. Suddenly, she smelled Behram's scent nearby. The fragrance that surrounded her was Behram's. When she closed her eyes, she saw Behram in those dark moments, holding her close. Her soul trembled. Was Behram really there with her? She could feel his touch, that it was Behram's touch. She had touched Behram, she had sat close to him. Overcome by these thoughts, she fainted and fell onto the prayer mat.

I know that I am just a handful of dust, yet,

What does it take me for, sending me adrift in the wind?

The sound of ambulance sirens echoed through the hospital. The pervasive smell of medicines filled every room. People were coming and going. A faint murmur could be heard. Samaira lay in the ICU on a stretcher, sleeping under the influence of medications. A needle was inserted into her arm. The drip was releasing droplets into her veins. Junaid was sitting nearby on a chair, struggling with sleep. He had been awake for the past two nights. The drip was about to finish. Junaid got up and gently removed the syringe from Samaira's arm.

He looked at Samaira, whose flawless, fair face looked slightly withered. There were two scratches on the left side of her neck, as if a wild animal had clawed her.

Dr. Haroon Islam entered the room. He was around twenty-nine years old and a PhD scholar in mind-body medicine education.

"Has she regained consciousness?" he asked Junaid.

"No, not yet."

"That's alright. Maybe the shock was too great. This happens sometimes in such cases. I've seen many such cases," he said professionally, comforting Junaid, who stood with his hands crossed over his chest.

"Once the patient regains consciousness, the phobia can be overcome. There are two treatments: one physical and the other spiritual. It depends on the nature of the case which method we use. In this case, I see spiritual treatment as effective."

Junaid was startled.

"Do you also think that...?"

"Do you think so?" he asked, shaking his head with a smile. "It's clear. There's a spiritual connection. It will have a profound effect."

"So now?" Junaid looked at Samaira, torn with indecision.

"Have you heard of Quranic therapy? We can resort to that."

Junaid sat back down on the chair. He was exhausted. Only one solution seemed apparent now, and that was the Quran.

"Alright," he said in a quiet, weary voice.

"I told you this so you can mentally prepare yourself. There might be another issue with the patient, but I told you what I felt. And anyway, it's not right to hide it."

Junaid just nodded in agreement.

"Do you want some medicine?" Dr. Haroon stepped forward.

"No."

"You need rest. If you want to rest, go ahead. I'll send a lady doctor. He smiled slightly.

"Okay." Junaid stood up. "I'll go home. Please send the doctor first."

"Okay." Dr. Haroon dialed a number in front of Junaid and made a call.

"Are you free? ... Come to the ICU. ... Okay."

"Dr. Qudsia is coming. Don't worry. She'll take care of Samaira."

"Thanks." Junaid glanced at Samaira, who was peacefully asleep.

The door opened, and Dr. Qudsia entered. Junaid left. A little while later, Dr. Haroon also left.

Outside, a man stood at the reception. He was standing with his head down in the crowd of people, and his way of looking at people seemed suspicious.

He took out his mobile.

"Sir, he just left. Confirmed." With this brief message on his mobile, he exited the hospital.

Fifteen minutes later, a car stopped near the hospital. A man dressed in a three-piece suit got out. He buttoned his coat and picked up two bouquets of flowers from the front seat. Now, he was entering the hospital.

In the ICU, Dr. Qudsia was adjusting the sheet on Samaira. She picked up a cream from the table and started applying it to the wounds on her neck. Just then, the door opened. Dr. Qudsia turned to look. A man was entering. A fragrance reached Samaira's nostrils, and she began to wake up.

"Who?" Dr. Qudsia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Me? ... Her friend." He paused for a moment.

"Oh." She was relieved and smiled slightly.

"How is she?" He moved forward and placed the bouquets on the side table next to Samaira. Samaira tried to open her eyes. The bright white light stung her eyes.

"She’s fine. Hopefully, she will fully recover."

"Behram..." Samaira called out to him.

"You can leave now," Behram said to Dr. Qudsia. She left without saying anything. Behram closed the door.

"I... I’m Behram. I'm here." Behram stood close to her. It was his first time seeing Samaira. She was beautiful, innocent-looking.

Samaira opened her eyes halfway. She could see Behram blurry face.

"What happened? What happened that night?" He began asking questions rapidly. "What happened after that night? The morning? Do you remember that morning?"

Samaira's head throbbed. The whole room seemed to spin around Behram.

"No. I don't remember anything," she managed to say with difficulty.

"Try to remember something. The forest... that woman... me... you... that wolf..."

"No. No. That fragrance..."

"That fragrance? What fragrance?" he demanded.

"Your fragrance." She fell silent after that.

"Do you remember that night? That morning?" He wanted her to recall it quickly.

"What’s the date today?" Samaira asked in confusion. "Where am I?" She looked around.

"Today is the ninth. You're in Lahore."

She was astonished. Two days of her life were missing.

"What happened to you?" Behram now asked softly, confidentially.

"I don't know... Maybe I had a headache or something."

Behram noticed the scratches on her neck.

"And these? What are these marks?" Behram pointed to her neck.

Samaira touched her neck.

"Maybe... maybe I scratched myself while performing ablution?" She looked at her hands and saw her nails were clipped. She began to feel more confused.

She couldn't remember anything. Behram felt relieved. He smiled slightly with one side of his mouth.

"These are for you." Behram picked up the bouquet and handed it to Samaira. Yellow roses.

Samaira smelled them and got absorbed in looking at the flowers.

"Look into my eyes." Behram gazed into her eyes. Their eyes met.

"Now, if anyone asks what happened, tell them you felt dizzy and had a headache. You are fine now. Completely fine. Okay?" He was almost coaching her.

Without blinking, she nodded in agreement.

"How do you like the flowers?" he suddenly smiled.

"They're beautiful."

"These are from Fateh." He handed her the second bouquet.

"His taste in color selection hasn't changed," Samaira shook her head. Behram was smiling.

"I wanted to meet you. But you came here sick," Behram said, causing Samaira to fall silent. It was new to her to be sitting so exposed in front of Behram. He could clearly see the changing expressions on her face.

"Will we meet again?" Behram asked.

She still sat quietly, eyes downcast.

"I have a surprise for you."

"What?" She looked up.

"If I tell you, will it still be a surprise?"

"Oh, right," she laughed softly, and Behram held his breath, watching her. The desire to have her surged within him. He took a step back on this path of love. And then he took two steps forward.

All paths led to love. This chess game was turning into love. But it had to remain a chess game where the queen's checkmate was written by the king. Behram Sikandar was the lone king of this chess game, and the queen was just a handful of dust.

Life has been spent like continuous torment

I do not remember what sin I was punished for

The morning sun began to rise, glowing like a red ember. The first ray of light fell on this part of the earth. Birds could be heard chirping on the tree next to the mud house. Fareeha was filling a bucket with water from the hand pump. Ayesha was still asleep. The bed next to her was empty. Gul-e-Lala was sitting with Gulzar. They were playing a Sudoku game on a Nokia mobile phone. Today was Sunday. Fareeha lifted the water bucket and walked toward the stove. The stove was in the courtyard, made of raw clay. She lit a fire using wood. She put water in a pot and set it to boil. She began making tea.

Shah Jamal had gone to his brother's house early in the morning. He had been summoned there. Gulzar looked at Fareeha, then went back to playing the game.

"Give it to me now," Gul-e-Lala asked for the phone. Gulzar handed it to her and got up to leave.

"Where? Where are you going?" Fareeha asked.

"Abba went to chacha's house. I'm going there too." He quickly explained as he walked out.

Fareeha got busy with her chores. While the tea was boiling, she began sweeping the room. Sakina was feeding the cow in the backyard. Ayesha started waking up. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. She looked around. Everyone was awake. She lay back down and watched the pigeons flying in the sky, as they did every morning, soaring high. Alert and active. But Ayesha felt lethargic today.

The tea started to boil. Fareeha hurriedly came and took the pot off the stove. Her fingers got hot. Blowing on her fingers, she went to wash her hands at the hand pump. Then she filled three cups with tea. She drank one herself and cooled down the other two for Ayesha and Gul-e-Lala. Sakina joined them by then.

Ayeha's hair was tangled, presenting a very strange sight. Gul-e-Lala was smiling quietly.

"Haven't your Abba come yet?" Sakina asked while sipping tea.

"No, Gulzar went there. They should be coming soon," Fareeha said as she started sweeping.

"You guys get up; I'll bring the charpoys inside," she said, lifting Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha. Both clung to Fareeha lazily as they stood up.

Fareeha continued with her work, and the two of them followed her wherever she went.

She placed one charpoy under the shade of a dense tree and sat down. Gul-e-Lala sat on one side and Ayesha on the other. Sakina was in the room. The day was progressing.

"I'm very tired today," Gul-e-Lala said, resting his head on Fareeha's arm.

"Why, have you conquered a fortress?" Fareeha scolded lightly.

"What is a fortress?" he asked drowsily.

This was just the beginning of his questions. Fareeha rolled her eyes and cursed herself for mentioning a fortress in front of Gul-e-Lala.

"Tell me," he said, shaking Fareeha's arm with his eyes closed.

"Bring your books; these are just excuses not to study," Fareeha said, shaking her arm. Gul-e-Lala, who was leaning on her for support, tumbled onto the charpoy.

"I'm really tired. It's Sunday; let's rest for a day," he said, trying to pretend to sleep.

"I want more tea," Ayesha said.

"Why do we get tired from sleeping so much?" Gul-e-Lala asked, looking at Fareeha.

"My dear, neither of you needs tea, but you do need a good beating," Fareeha said, getting up to fetch a stick. By the time she came back, Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha were sitting with their books open, studying. 

Holding back her laughter, she sat down with them and started teaching.

Gulzar entered the house.

"Where's Abba?" Fareeha asked as soon as she saw Gulzar.

"He's still there," Gulzar replied irritably. His eyes were slightly red. Fareeha got up and followed him.

He was trying to catch a chicken.

"Why? What are you doing?" Fareeha asked, startled to see him.

"We're having chicken for dinner tonight," Gulzar said as he ran after the chicken.

"Gul-e-Lala, catch it," he called out. Gul-e-Lala cornered the chicken from the front and grabbed it by the neck. In their home, chicken was only cooked when the local landlord was expected to visit. These visits were always a burden that lasted for several days.

Nevertheless, Gulzar caught and slaughtered the chicken, and Sakina prepared the meat.

"Pray, Fareeha, that we receive good news today," Sakina said as she boiled the chicken meat and began preparing the curry.

"Yes," Fareeha managed to say. She took a deep breath. Her heart was racing. She felt no peace. She went inside and sat down.

Sakina stayed busy with the preparations. There was still no sign of Shah Jamal.

Asr time was approaching. Worries began to mount. Anxiety grew. Shah Jamal moved toward the back part of the house and opened the door to the sitting room.

Shah Kamal entered the sitting room and sat down. They had a lot of discussions. The voices were not clear, but it sounded like an argument. Fareeha became fearful as she sensed the tension. She tried to keep herself busy with work, but her mind kept wandering.

It was evening. Sakina finished cooking and came outside to sit with Fareeha.

Just then, Gul-e-Lala came running in.

"Amma, chacha is going to kill Abba. They are beating him," he cried. Sakina and Fareeha were alarmed.

Gul-e-Lala quickly brought Gulzar to the sitting room. A terrifying scene awaited them. Shah Jamal's hands were tied behind his back, and a police officer was dragging him across the land that was his. On that day, Gul-e-Lala sensed the betrayal of the police. The image that emerged was horrifying. The map depicted corrected the wrong paths. There was neither justice nor humanity.

"Abba, Abba," Gul-e-Lala clung to Gulzar in fear. "Save Abba." Gulzar ran towards his father, but two men grabbed him. He struggled to free himself. Gul-e-Lala, being weak, could only cry. Both sons watched their father die before their eyes.

Shah Jamal was being dragged across the ground as if it were being plowed. The police officer stopped and looked at Shah Jamal. His lifeless body began to feel heavy. His spirit began to depart. The life in his old bones started to fade. The police left him there. They pushed Gulzar onto the same land. He fell, then got up and went to his father, unaware that his father had already gone, very far away.

"Abba, Abba, open your eyes, Abba," he cried, wiping his tears with his sleeve. Gul-e-Lala stood beside him, also crying. When he realized that these closed eyes would never open again, he too began to cry. The realization came late. Everything was ruined. Life's watch became stricter. He looked up at the sky and screamed.

Now, there would be no more rest, only a life of hard work was written in their fate. Gulzar wept, holding his father's lifeless body. He hugged Gul-e-Lala. Gulzar's cries could be heard.

This story didn't end with Shah Jamal's death; it had just begun. Justice and humanity were still pending. The punishment for this news was yet to come, as the one survivor was left to face it alone.

Why would there be complaints of others in the heart when there were hopes,

One's own was still one's own, a stranger was still a stranger.

In Lahore, the evening was tinged with red. The clouds were slowly dissipating. It wasn't completely dark yet. Aneesa was sitting on the chairs in the lounge with Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha. A round table was placed in the middle. Ayesha and Gul-e-Lala had notes in their hands. They were both reading. Aneesa was sitting idly, watching them. Occasionally, she would say something. Samaira appeared and joined them. It was the third day since she had been discharged from the hospital. She looked much better.

"What’s happening?" Samaira asked as she sat down.

"Studying," Gul-e-Lala put the notes forward and smiled.

"And you?" Samaira looked at Aneesa. She turned her face away. Samaira looked at her with regret and shook her head.

"Father called. He asks about you," Samaira informed. Aneesa didn’t react. She looked down at the small grass on the ground.

"Zakaria Uncle? How is he?" Gul-e-Lala asked at the mention of Zakaria.

"Yes. He’s fine." Samaira smiled a little. Gul-e-Lala nodded in affirmation with a smile.

"How do you know?" Aneesa asked, surprised and leaned forward.

"He once helped my brother when he couldn’t find a job," Gul-e-Lala recalled Zakaria’s kindness.

"Oh," Aneesa leaned back in her chair. (I thought she had met him somewhere; thankfully, that’s not the case.) She thought as she ran her finger over the lace on her dupatta.

"We meet him often," Gul-e-Lala dropped a bombshell.

"What?" She leaned forward again. Samaira and Ayesha looked at her. "I mean, where?"

"Our brother often meets Zakariya Uncle. We met him through our Mahenoor," Gul-e-Lala looked towards Samaira.

"He is a very good person," Ayesha looked up from her notes and smiled.

(He might be a good person, but he’s not a good father) "Hmm," Aneesa said softly. (You will find out soon enough and then say, 'I wish I had recognized you earlier. I wish I had known that you are not a good person.') She was constantly shaking one leg, resting it on the other.

Evening was approaching. Ayesha went inside. Samaira also went inside to take a call. Now only Gul-e-Lala and Aneesa were left sitting there. Gul-e-Lala had placed his notes on the table. Aneesa, resting her head on her arm, was staring at him. When Gul-e-Lala noticed, he looked at her questioningly. She snapped back to reality and sat properly in front of him. She leaned forward a bit, looked around, and rested her elbows on the table.

"Can I trust you?"

"What? What kind of question is that?" Gul-e-Lala asked in surprise instead of answering. Aneesa looked at him angrily.

"Yes, yes, you can," he replied quickly.

"Stay away from my father."

"This..."

"I’m telling you this only because I consider you a friend." She leaned back. Gul-e-Lala leaned forward.

"Why me?"

"He might be a good person, no doubt about it. But from what I know, he’s not a good father." She said in a whisper, looking disappointed.

"Can I trust you?" Gul-e-Lala asked, and she was surprised.

"When your own betray you, you shouldn’t trust outsiders. If your own are so dangerous, imagine how dangerous outsiders can be."

He had never thought about it that way.

"That’s a tip." Hee leaned back.

"So, where’s the solution?"

"Every problem’s solution lies hidden within the problem itself, but we tend to look for solutions by setting the problem aside. Isn’t that strange?" He smiled.

"Yes, that’s quite a strange thing to say." At that moment, she found him the best.

"So, what are you thinking?" Gul-e-Lala placed his hand on the pages of his notes.

"I’m thinking why I never thought like that. Why?"

"Now think." Small pieces of clouds were seen running across the sky.

"Hmm." She nodded in confusion.

"And now?" Gul-e-Lala tested her.

"But I considered you a friend... and friends are like family, and family should be kept away from any impending harm." She said softly.

"Yes, very possible." He nodded in agreement.

"But why do you think like this about your father? Why did you feel this way?" Gul-e-Lala asked cautiously, fearing it might upset her.

"I never thought ill of him. I just told you how he is." There’s a hurt in my voice. "Don’t you believe me, Gul Lala?"

He fell silent. What could he say? That the person who helped his brother is bad? Or that he is ungrateful?

The call to prayer (Azaan) began. Aneesa removed the dupatta from around her neck and wrapped it around her head. Her innocent face shone brightly in the white dupatta. Gul-e-Lala watched her in silence. She stood up.

"Shall I keep these in your room?" Aneesa picked up the notes.

"Yes... I’m going to the mosque." Gul-e-Lala also stood up.

They both left, leaving the chairs empty. Aneesa went to the room where Ayesha and Samaira were praying. She joined them and prayed as well.

The house was peaceful and calm. After finishing her prayer, Aneesa went to Mahenoor. Mahenoor was sitting in the room, putting something in a drawer.

"What’s this?" Aneesa quickly asked when she saw it.

"A ring." She took out the box again.

"Who gave it to you?" Aneesa opened the box and tried on the diamond ring. "Wow... it’s beautiful. Will you give it to me?"

"No.Give it back." Mahenoor asked for it back.

"Who gave it to you?"

"Kabeer gave it to me." Mahenoor put the ring back in the box and placed it in the drawer.

"But didn’t you two have a fight?"

Mahenoor, who was bending to put the ring back in the drawer, froze for a moment. Her face lost its color.

"Who told you?"

"Shayan said you two were fighting."

"Yes, Kabeer and I did have a fight." Mahenoor, with her dupatta over her shoulder, began tidying up the scattered items in the room. Kabeer, entering the room, paused at Mahenoor's words.

Who was she telling this to? he wondered as he stood outside the room.

"Then what did Kabeer do?" Aneesa's voice came.

Oh, so Aneesa was asking. He was surprised. He waited for Mahenoor's response.

"Kabeer wants us to attend Omar’s wedding, but I refused."

"You refused? But why?"

"Why? If there was just one reason, I would tell you." Mahenoor said as she adjusted the bedsheet. "Omar’s mother didn’t treat us well. And she didn’t even come to check on Kashmala’s wellbeing. We shouldn’t go."

She was covering for her husband. She was Kabeer’s garment, protecting him. She was fulfilling the duty of an obedient wife. Even if it made her seem guilty, she had to keep Kabeer's honor intact.

Aneesa fell silent. Kabeer turned back, feeling a weight on his heart. He went to the lounge, where Samaira was sitting. He could still hear voices but couldn’t make out the words. After a while, Aneesa came down to the lounge.

When Gul-e-Lala returned from the mosque, Junaid was with him. As soon as Junaid arrived, he lay down on the sofa. Everyone was busy chatting, while Samaira and Gul-e-Lala were watching a show on the LCD. It was a break, so they were talking.

"Do you bother Mahenoor?" Kabeer glared at Aneesa. She, who was laughing at something with Junaid, suddenly fell silent. She looked at Kabeer and stayed quiet.

"Don't bother her." Kabeer got up and went to his room.

Aneesa resumed her conversation with Junaid.

"There’s this guy I asked for water once, and he brought it beautifully arranged on a tray. No one ever gave me such protocol before. Now I ask him for water every day." She started laughing. Her worn-out jokes made Junaid laugh.

"Did you have to meet someone?" Junaid asked.

"No."

"There was an email on your laptop from a girl named Malikah. Who is she?" Junaid, lying on the sofa with his hands folded across his chest, was looking at his phone. Aneesa was sitting on a single sofa beside him.

"Oh, Malikah. I didn’t go to meet her, and I won’t go." She sounded annoyed.

"Why?"

"I just don’t like her. And don’t you reply to her." Aneesa pouted.

"Why would I reply to her? Am I crazy?" Junaid looked at her. "Why are you angry?"

Instead of answering, Aneesa looked at Gul-e-Lala, who was watching the show "Naye Sitare" with Samaira on the LCD.

"She took my place," she said quietly.

"What place?"

"That's all I'm going to say," she said, pouting more and sitting down, annoyed. "She hurt my feelings."

"Alright, alright. Don't get emotional." Junaid sat up and brought her to sit next to him.

"Hold out your hands," he said with a smile. Aneesa extended her hands.

Junaid took jasmine flowers out of his pocket and filled her palms with them. The fragrance spread, and a smile appeared on her face. Junaid took half of the flowers and tucked them into her hair in various places.

"Now these flowers look beautiful," Junaid said, looking at her hair.

Samaira smiled. Without a doubt, Junaid loved Aneesa immensely. Samaira wasn’t jealous. She knew. Aneesa looked at the flowers in her palm. Sometimes she would smell their fragrance, and sometimes she would look at Junaid.

She took the flowers to her room. She took out a box from the closet and locked the flowers inside. The fragrance was also captured. Her hands continued to smell like jasmine for a long time, a scent that delighted her heart.

October 27

Today was the weekend. Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha had gone to their homes. Aneesa was sitting on the bed with her legs dangling, head bowed. Tears were dripping onto the floor. On the adjacent bed, a dress was spread out with a pair of shoes placed beside it. Her long hair was cascading down her back like a waterfall. There was a knock on the door. She didn’t open it. Tears started flowing faster from her eyes. She was staring at her tears falling onto the floor.

"Open the door, Aneesa." Mahenoor was knocking on the door, with Kabeer and Samaira standing beside her. "Otherwise, Dad will come himself to get you."

Today was Omar's wedding. She was sitting with her sorrow.

"Are you threatening her? She’ll get scared this way." Kabeer moved Mahenoor aside and knocked on the door himself. "Child, open the door."

"Kabeer, I’m scared. What if she has committed suicide..." Mahenoor's words remained unfinished. "And we can’t even find the key."

"Nothing like that will happen. She’s not like that." Kabeer kept pounding on the door.

Deaf to all these sounds, she kept crying silently. Omar was getting married. It was a big deal for her. The person around whom her entire life revolved was going to part ways with her forever. Only a few hours were left.

Just then, Junaid climbed in through the window and opened the door. Everyone entered. Even upon their arrival, Aneesa didn’t lift her head to look at them.

"What is this? You’re not ready yet?" Mahenoor scolded. She kept crying. Samaira came and sat beside her. She still didn’t say anything.

"Get up, come on, get ready." Samaira hugged her. She pushed herself away.

"You guys go. I'll come later," she said while crying.

"Okay, okay." Kabeer took Mahenoor with him and left. "Maybe she needs some space."

Junaid was leaning against the wall, watching her. Samaira was still sitting there.

"He will get married." She looked at Samaira and then buried her head in her knees, crying. Samaira and Junaid watched her helplessly. Junaid wished he could buy happiness in exchange for her tears. He stood there quietly, watching her.

Both Samaira and Junaid were ready. They had to convince Aneesa. She was crying her heart out, as if someone had died.

"Junaid." There were tears in Samaira's eyes. Junaid came forward and sat down with Aneesa. At first, he didn't know what to say.

"It's okay. You'll find the best life partner in the world." It was either a reassurance or a prayer. Junaid wiped the corner of his eye.

"Omar is just an ordinary guy. And then there’s Farhana Aunty, you used to argue with her every day. It's good that your life didn't get ruined." He mustered up the courage to smile and kept talking. "Be thankful, you got rid of a quarrelsome mother-in-law."

She had quieted down, but the sadness was still evident on her face.

"He was with me since childhood." She started crying again.

"Since childhood, we've been together too. Does that mean we'll always be together?" Junaid gently wiped her eyes with a tissue from the box on the table.

"Yes, we will always be together. We will be," she replied with certainty.

"But Omar is different. He wasn't yours," Samaira tried to explain. She didn't want to understand.

"I feel like I'm dying without him. My life is leaving me." She looked at Samaira, unable to meet Junaid's eyes.

"People don't die before their time. Life is precious; it can't be wasted on just anyone."

"I thought I could live without him, but it's hard."

"Try." Samaira stood up and handed Aneesa the dress. "Get ready. Let's go."

Aneesa took the dress and went to the bathroom. Junaid went outside. Samaira was doing Aneesa's hair, creating a French braid with her forehead hair and leaving the rest open. She applied pink lip gloss on her lips.

"Did you wash your face?" Samaira asked, looking at her face. She nodded. Now Samaira helped her put on sandals. Both of them came outside.

Junaid started the car and drove towards the wedding hall.

☆☆☆☆☆

It was ten o'clock. Omar was lying face down on the bed, asleep. When Farhana opened the door to his room, she was shocked.

"Oh my God! This boy is still sleeping. Wake up, it's your wedding day!" she said, shaking Omar. Farhana was wearing a saree, deep red lipstick adorned her lips, a gold necklace was around her neck, and she held Omar's wedding outfit and shoes in her hands.

Omar turned over and stretched.

"Mom, let me sleep a little longer," he said irritably and turned to sleep again. Then he remembered something and sat up, leaning against the edge of the bed.

"Okay, I'm coming. You go," he said.

Farhana placed the clothes and shoes on the dressing table.

"Hurry up and get ready," she said as she left the room. Omar looked around the room. He opened the side table where a photo and a perfume bottle were kept. He picked up the photo, smiled, and saw a beautiful face. He looked at the other side of the bed, the place that would be Anam's from today. He kept staring at the picture for a long time with his head bowed. Then he got up, took a shower, and started getting ready. Near the dressing table, there were remnants of extinguished cigarettes; he had been smoking them the previous night.

Mashal entered the room. He was fastening the buttons of his dress.

"Bhai, you're not ready yet?" she said, looking at Omar with annoyance.

"Has she come?" Omar asked sadly.

"No. But the rest, Zakaria Uncle and Aapi, have arrived. Hurry up, let's go." She ran outside.

Omar got ready. They all reached the wedding hall, which was filled with people. Omar sat on the stage with Anam. His demeanor was somewhat detached. Today, all his family members were present.

Samaira, Aneesa, and Junaid were sitting somewhere in the middle among the people. When Naheed saw them, she came over.

"Mahenoor and Kashmala didn't come?"

"No."

"Will they come late?" Naheed asked with a smile.

"They won't come, Mom," Junaid said.

"Why?" she asked bitterly, sitting down with them.

Junaid smiled and said nothing.

"I asked something," Naheed said angrily.

"Mom, they have some issues, they're busy. There are many things more important than a wedding. When people left, they left too," Junaid fell silent. Naheed got up and walked away.

There was a lot of hustle and bustle. Zakaria was smiling and greeting people. Junaid was watching him. They were Niaz Sikandar and Ibrahim Sikandar. Junaid recognized them both and then looked away. He was feeling quite bored.

Sitting on the stage, Omar was calling Mashal for the fourth time. Each time it was the same question. "Has Aneesa come? Where is she?" She was present but not in his sight.

Shehroz brought a man over to Junaid. Junaid warmly embraced him. It was Colonel Javed Aleem. Junaid went with them. Samaira was sitting and chatting with Aneesa.

"Look at Anam's complexion, she doesn't have that glow," Samaira commented. From a distance, they were watching Anam and Omar. Amid the crowd, they were lost to many, but not to one person's eyes.

"Here, there are not just beautiful people but exceedingly beautiful ones." Hearing a voice from behind, Samaira stood up and turned around.

(What is he doing here? If someone sees him?) Samaira adjusted her dupatta and smiled.

"You are beautiful, I knew that, but I didn't realize you would be this beautiful," Behram said, sitting down beside them. "This must be your sister?" Behram guessed, looking at Aneesa.

"Yes," Samaira smiled faintly.

"Who is he?" Aneesa asked Samaira.

"I am Behram. The son of your father's friend. Behram Sikandar," Behram introduced himself.

Before a place could be made in her heart, hatred had already formed.

"Let's go from here, Samaira," Aneesa stood up and took Samaira's hand, leading her away. Behram was left watching.

Farhana was seen coming towards Aneesa. Aneesa was standing by a floral frame, touching the flowers.

"Look, my son is getting married. How does it feel?" Farhana taunted Aneesa, rubbing salt in her wounds. "You got left behind. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"You're still a child, focus on your studies. These weddings are not for you. You can't build a home for anyone." Farhana's words were like a hammer striking her heart.

"And what about your own daughter, who is still unmarried?" Junaid interjected from behind. "If you say another word about my sister, you'll be responsible for the consequences. Stay within your limits." He took Aneesa away from there. When someone later asked why they left, they were told that Aneesa was feeling unwell.

Everyone was still there. Samaira was sitting alone. Behram took the opportunity to sit next to her.

"Your angry sister is nowhere to be seen?"

Samaira looked at him with annoyance. She didn't like his comment.

"Okay, okay, sorry."

"She was unwell and had to leave."

"Hmm." After that, they continued talking. The wedding procession began to leave, and people started heading to their homes. One of the last cool evenings of October was settling in. It was a somber, dusty, and reddish-cold evening.

There was no consciousness, there was unconsciousness, and in unconsciousness, where is consciousness,

What remained remembered was the silence, what was forgotten was the story.

It was four in the evening. Behram was sitting in the café, staring at the chair in front of him. He was waiting for someone to arrive. He was wearing a shirt with a vest over it. Continuously shaking one leg, he kept looking at the time on his wristwatch repeatedly. Next to his leg was a bag, and on the table was a bouquet of yellow roses. The waiter had come to take his order three times, but he refused each time. His eyes now went to the door of the café, where Samaira was entering. She was wearing an abaya, with a hijab on her head but her face uncovered. The long strap of her bag hung from her shoulder down to her waist. She walked over to Behram. Behram stood up and respectfully pulled a chair for Samaira, then sat back down in his own chair.

"You took quite a while to come." Behram looked at her with a reproachful gaze.

"Ummm. Sorry." She apologized, placing both hands on the table in front of her.

"No need." He shook his head. "This is for you." Behram handed her the roses.

"No, please, it's not necessary." Samaira smiled politely.

"It's a gift, and one does not refuse a gift." Behram placed the bouquet on the table and leaned back. Samaira picked it up and smelled the fresh flowers.

"And there's more for you." Behram bent down to pick up the bag and placed it on the table in front of Samaira.

"Behram..." She was feeling confused. Coming here empty-handed now seemed like a mistake. She started to feel guilty.

"Please, don't refuse." Behram opened the bag and took out a ring.

"No." Samaira refused immediately upon seeing the expensive ring.

"Why?" Behram leaned forward.

"Please, I can't take this. It looks too expensive."

"So what? It's still less than the price we've both paid to be here." Behram took Samaira's left hand, which was resting on the table, in his hand. He gently ran his fingers over her hand, feeling its softness for the first time. She wanted to pull her hand away, but Behram tightened his grip.

"Behram, please let go of my hand." She got scared and looked around her.

Without responding to her, Behram slipped the diamond ring onto her finger.

"Now it's become expensive." He smiled, looking at her hand. Samaira kept staring at him.

"Shall we order something?" Behram asked her.

"No. I'm not hungry." Behram could see the sudden change in her facial expression. She was staring at the ground.

Behram crossed his arms and watched her. She looked upset. His eyes were fixed on hers, which kept blinking rapidly, avoiding his gaze. She was turning the ring Behram had put on her finger with her right hand. Behram noticed this. He wanted to hold her hand a bit longer. He sat there, mesmerized.

"Shall we order something?" Samaira asked, feeling his gaze on her face.

"That's what I was saying." Behram signaled the waiter. "Two coffees, please." The waiter left.

"What do you think of me?" Behram asked her after a few minutes of silence. Samaira looked at him, noticing the seriousness in his question.

"What kind of question is that?" She smiled but was also surprised.

"I'm straightforward. How do you find me? Just say what you told me on the phone once again." There was something in his eyes.

"I don't remember... maybe..." Samaira tried to recall. When she remembered, her facial expression changed again. This time, it wasn't anger, sadness, or frustration. Whatever it was, Behram found it beautiful.

The waiter brought the coffee and placed it in front of them. Behram placed a coffee mug in front of Samaira and took a sip from his own.

"You said I'm like a mischievous child, didn't you?" Behram took another sip of his coffee and placed the mug on the table.

"Yes, maybe." (I don't know why I said that) Samaira cursed herself inwardly. Just then, her phone rang. It was a call from Kashmala. She instinctively looked at Behram and answered the call.

After responding with "Yes, no, yes, yes, and okay," she put the phone back in her bag.

"What happened?" Behram placed his hand on Samaira's hand, which was resting on the table. Samaira gently pulled her hand back. (I usually don't tolerate such gestures.) He smiled.

"I'm getting late; I should go." She stood up.

"But we haven't even talked properly yet," he said, trying to control his emotions.

Without responding, she paid for the coffee, covering Behram's cost as well.

"I have some work, so... I have to go." She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, picked up the bouquet, and they both started to leave.

"You'll come to meet again," Behram said, opening the door for her. Samaira walked out first, with Behram following.

"I don't know." She didn't stop and headed towards her car.

Bahram got into his car.

Samaira looked at the bouquet on the seat next to her and then at the diamond ring on her finger, which had many facets, just like Behram. She took off the ring and put it in her bag. She drove towards home, her steps not stopping, moving forward. This wasn't the path she had set out on. She should have known that on these paths, only regret and remorse are found. What she needed to hold on to was slipping away, becoming distant.

Behram sat in his car for a long time with his eyes closed, leaning against the seat. He was hitting the steering wheel with his hand and banging his head against the seat in frustration. His face was filled with intense anger. His phone rang.

"Speak." He snapped at Furqan as soon as he answered the call.

"Sir, Junaid will be at the restaurant tonight at eight. This is our only chance," Furqan informed from the other end.

"Tell me the plan." Behram rubbed his temple with his finger.

"You and I will be there, and we'll create a situation that forces him to leave his spot. As soon as he leaves, we'll erase all our data from his laptop."

Behram cut the call. He then started the car and sped away from there.

There's still a little life left in my conscience

There's still some test left for us

The deepening darkness of the night was growing even darker. The cold November winds were hitting the body. People were coming and going on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. In the midst of this, a car stopped. Two young men stepped out, both dressed in black, wearing long jackets. Junaid was sitting inside the restaurant, sipping tea. A closed laptop was placed on the table in front of him, with his mobile phone beside it. Holding the cup with both hands, he was taking small sips.

"Chotu, come here." Junaid called a young boy who worked in the restaurant. The boy came over.

"Here," Junaid handed him the bill for the tea. The boy took the money and went to the counter. Junaid was looking around at the people. On the table in front of him, a boy and a girl were sitting, holding each other's hands. Junaid smiled slightly at them and then looked away.

"Here is your change," the boy came back and told Junaid, starting to return the money.

"Keep it," Junaid smiled and patted the boy's hair. As the boy turned to leave, his foot got caught on the table. Trying to prevent himself from falling, he grabbed Junaid's arm. The hot tea spilled on Junaid's clothes. Junaid stood up and started brushing off his clothes. The boy was sitting on the floor, rubbing his knee. Junaid reached out and helped him up.

"Sir, the washroom is this way." An older boy came to Junaid and took the young boy by the ear, leading him away. Junaid picked up his phone and laptop and placed them in his car. He returned inside and went to the washroom to clean his clothes.

Outside, the sounds of people could be heard. The two young men approached the car. Their faces were covered with cloths. They calmly opened the car door and took the laptop. They got into their own car. Furqan was driving. Behram opened the laptop. There was something written in English letters on the top, but he ignored it and started the laptop. The window opened. Behram's fingers began moving rapidly over the keyboard. He opened the "My Files" folder and began opening all the files one by one.

"This is just a bunch of subject assignments and notes. What have we brought?" Behram was frustrated. He wanted nothing more than to smash the laptop onto the ground.

"Don't worry, sir. We have everything now. Let's wait until next month. Fateh will come and destroy all the data," Furqan said, taking the laptop from Behram and placing it on the dashboard. The car had stopped in front of Sikandar House.

"That will be too late, Furqan. He'll find out the laptop is missing and come after us. He might have more evidence. He'll ruin my future before it even begins."

"If that happens, we have only one option. We'll destroy him."

"Yes, yes," Behram exclaimed, a solution dawning on him. (How could I forget that there's a journey of death between him and me, one that he has to undertake. But Samaira? What is her fault? I... a murderer...) Many thoughts and images flooded his mind simultaneously. He got out of the car and entered the grand mansion with the laptop. The cold gusts of wind made him feel a bit chilly, but he quickly made his way to his room. He opened the laptop and placed it on the bed.

"Yathrib?" He touched the English letters written in the corner with his fingertips and then closed the laptop.

Meanwhile, Junaid was sitting in his car, frantically searching for his laptop, which belonged to Aneesa.

Had he even brought the laptop from the restaurant? He tried to recall. He was sure he had. But where could it be? Exhausted, he rested his head on the steering wheel. It was already nine o'clock. The crowd around was thinning. The restaurant would soon be closing.

He hurried back into the restaurant and went to the counter.

"Excuse me!" He addressed a waiter there.

"Can you show me the CCTV footage from outside? Something of mine has been stolen," Junaid said softly.

"What was stolen?" the waiter asked.

"My laptop."

"Okay," the waiter said, then proceeded to ignore him and continued with his work.

"Please, just show me," Junaid pleaded.

"You'll have to talk to the manager. We can't help you."

"And where is this manager?" Junaid was now angry. It was just a matter of showing the footage.

"The manager is in Germany."

"God help me," he muttered as he walked out. He started his car and headed home. His main concern was how he would explain this to Aneesa. Should he tell her he lost her laptop or that it was stolen? What would her reaction be? That laptop was so precious to her. Would she cry? And those files? Did Behram have them stolen? Would he gain access to the data? The encrypted files...

A flood of thoughts overwhelmed him. More challenges awaited.

Then it so happened that the begging bowl fell from my hands

I couldn't even walk after taking charity from him

The palace was enveloped in total darkness. He lay on the bed with his eyes closed but still awake. The household staff were awake as well. Malikah was approaching Behram's room. She knocked on the door, entered, and closed the door with her elbows.

"Water." She placed a jug and a glass on Behram's side table.

"I need to tell you something, Malikah," Behram stopped her as she was about to leave. Malikah paused and turned on the light. She sat next to Behram, who was lying down. As soon as she sat down, Behram leaned back against the headboard and sat up. He glanced at Malikah for a moment. Her brown hair was loose, falling forward. Her head was covered with a dupatta. Usually, she draped the dupatta around her neck, but today it was on her head. Seeing Malikah reminded him of Samaira. He smiled slightly.

"What is this?" Behram looked at her head.

"Aneesa wears her dupatta like this, so I copied her," she smiled.

"You know she came to meet me today. Our first meeting," Behram looked into Malikah's eyes. She sat there, wide-eyed with surprise.

"Really? She wasn't like that," Malikah said, shocked.

"She came. I touched her hand," Behram looked at his hand, still able to feel the softness of her touch. "I gifted her a ring, gave her flowers. She accepted them."

"Fateh said she wasn't like that. Why did she come?" Malika asked, distressed.

"Because I made a single phone call to her, just one call. And she came running."

"Will she come again?" Malikah was worried. She didn't want Samaira to meet Behram. She just wanted to keep Samaira away from all this.

"Once we take a step towards sin, knowing it's the wrong path, it becomes difficult to turn back. Even if you want to turn back, it hurts. The sins come before your eyes and cause pain." He fell silent.

"Are you saying this?" Malikah asked in disbelief.

"That's what Samaira said to Fateh. And you," Behram pointed at her with his finger, "you must be meeting Aneesa often, right?"

"Yes, she's become my close friend," Malikah smiled softly.

"What did Fateh say about her the last time?" Behram's question drained the color from Malikah face. She felt like someone was uncovering her secrets.

"If you do it, you'll be rewarded. And if I do it, it's a sin? She's innocent too. What is her fault? You all are using others for your own sake. If I save my brother, will I be doing wrong?"

"I will still marry Samaira, but you? What you are letting happen with Aneesa, do you think she will ever get married?" Behram saw the tears welling up in her eyes.

A noose of tears tightened around Malikah.

"She's Samaira's sister. Fateh should have at least considered that. He's trying to exploit her without any enmity."

He poured water into a glass and brought it to his lips. Malikah, with her head bowed, was crying. Her georgette dupatta had slipped off her head, and her brown hair hung loosely on both sides of her face.

"Have you ever asked her what 'Yathrib' is?" Behram asked, glancing at the laptop on the table beside the dressing. Malikah shook her head while crying.

"Drink the water," Behram offered the remaining water to Malikah. She took the glass but remained seated.

"Behram, I don't want to sin. I even tried to stop Fateh, but he told me that if I listened to him, he would come to Lahore," Malikah said, catching her breath between sobs.

"He'll come and bring love with him? What kind of love? Charity? The bowl he's giving you charity in isn't even yours. You won't be able to keep the charity he's offering," Behram mocked. "I don't care about you or Fateh. Just make sure no one comes between Samaira and me. Remember, if anything goes wrong because of you two, you both will...," he trailed off, warning her.

"Fateh can't see Samaira in pain," Malikah wiped her tears.

"And Aneesa? She's just a child. Don't get in my way, and I won't get in yours. Deal?" Behram proposed.

Malikah stood up from his side and looked at him with regret.

"When will he come?" Behram asked nonchalantly.

She stared at him for a while, seeing the indifference in his eyes.

"At the end of December," she replied angrily.

"I usually don't tolerate such attitude. Speak to me respectfully. You may leave now," he said, showing her the way out with equal anger.

Malikah, seething, opened the door, stepped out, and though she felt like slamming it shut, she closed it gently and left.

Be it a pearl, a glass, a goblet, or a door,

Once broken, it is broken for good.

After returning from university, Aneesa was sitting in her room copying Gul-e-Lala's notes. Ayesha was lying next to her, sleeping.

"I don't understand why Gul-e-Lala wrote it so complexly," she muttered. She got off the bed and went outside.

"Junaid," she called out.

"What happened?" Mahenoor appeared in front of her.

"Where is Junaid Bhai?" Her hair was tied with a hairband, and her dupatta was hanging loosely around her neck.

"Junaid isn't home. If you need something, you can tell me," Mahenoor replied.

"No, I just needed the laptop," Aneesa turned back.

"Aneesa, the laptop is missing," Mahenoor called out. Aneesa stopped.

"What? My laptop?"

"Yes. We don't know if it was stolen or lost. Junaid looked everywhere but couldn't find it," Mahenoor explained with regret. "Junaid himself was worried about how to tell you."

"It's okay," Aneesa smiled. Mahenoor was surprised at her reaction. She thought Aneesa would make a fuss, but she didn't react at all.

"He will buy you a new one, exactly the same," Mahenoor clarified.

"Oh, it's okay. I don't need it anymore anyway."

Was she really changed? Mahenoor wondered for a moment.

"I'll ask Kabeer to get a new one for you," Mahenoor wanted her to insist, but...

"No, it's okay. The laptop is gone, but Junaid Bhai is still here with me," she smiled genuinely. "And it only had my notes, which I can make again."

Mahenoor just kept looking at her. This change was new for her. She couldn't even imagine it. The sound of a car horn was heard outside. Perhaps Junaid had arrived. Mahenoor went back to her room. Aneesa stood there, waiting for Junaid. The door opened, and Junaid came in. Aneesa saw him, smiled, and sat with him in the lounge.

"Mahenoor told me my laptop is missing. It's okay, Bhai. Material things are not more valuable than people." Junaid looked at her, surprised, then smiled.

"I'll get you a new one."

"No problem, Junaid, it's fine."

"Am I dreaming? Have you changed?"

She sat up straight.

"By the way, Omar is coming tonight with Anam," Junaid informed her.

"Why? Is everything okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes. After their wedding, Kabeer and Mahenoor have planned a dinner for them."

"Okay."

"And what will you do? I mean... will you face them?"

"Yes. I'll have to face reality; I can't run away from it," she smiled sadly.

"There's no savior for broken glass, but there is for broken hearts." Aneesa looked up.

"Hmm, good. Move on." Junaid patted her head gently.

Aneesa got up and went to her room to wash her face. Ayesha was awake.

"You wash your face with soap ten times a day. Come out quickly," Ayesha said, seeing her wash her face. Aneesa, standing in front of the sink, turned her soapy face towards her.

"I like the smell of soap. Just because of that. And it's good, right? No bacteria will spread."

"Really? Does bacteria come to your face every two minutes?" Ayesha joked.

"What can I do? Such is my love for water."

Ayesha laughed.

At night, Omar and Anam were seated with them for dinner. Mahenoor had prepared various dishes. Omar was eating rice with a spoon, his eyes fixed on Aneesa. Anam was watching Omar.

"Here, take some more," Mahenoor served kebabs to Anam.

"Get me one too," Aneesa whispered to Junaid. Junaid took a kebab and placed a piece on Aneesa's plate.

"How's married life?" Mahenoor asked Anam with a smile.

"It's good," she replied with a faint smile.

"And Omar, when are you going abroad? Will you take Anam with you?"

"No, no. Anam won't be coming with me," Omar said, causing Anam to look disappointed.

"When are you going?" Junaid asked Omar.

"I'll leave after attending your wedding."

"Alright. If that's the case, I'll get married next month," Junaid laughed.

"To Madiha?" Aneesa asked quietly.

"Hmm. Now be quiet," Junaid whispered back.

"What are you planning next, Aneesa?" Omar asked, addressing her as she was busy eating. Aneesa looked at Omar.

("Never reveal your goals to anyone,") she remembered Junaid's words. "I haven't thought about it yet. Once I complete my studies, then..."

"And when will you visit our home?"

Anam glared at both of them. She felt bad. She knew that before their marriage, Omar was interested in Aneesa. She continued to feel bitter. Aneesa didn't respond.

"If there's any resentment, let me resolve it now," Omar said, not getting a response.

"No," Aneesa stood up. "I'm done." She pushed her plate forward on the table and went to her room.

"I don't want to eat anymore either," Anam also got up and left.

Anam found Aneesa in her room, lying quietly on the bed.

"Hello, Aneesa," Anam said, standing at the door.

"Come in," Aneesa smiled politely and sat up.

"It must hurt you to see Omar with me," Anam smiled sadly.

"No, it doesn't."

"I know he loves you. And he always will. Do you know when I found out he loves you?"

Aneesa looked at her questioningly; Anam's face was full of sadness.

"He didn't come home on our wedding night. I waited for him all night. Farhana Aunty cursed you the whole night, thinking Omar was with you." She smiled in between.

"And you know what? He says if he had married you, he would have taken you abroad with him. And you would have supported him there."

"Me? How could I support him? I don't have any money," Aneesa was surprised.

"There are things other than money. He was talking about that kind of support," Anam looked at her lovingly.

"What’s going on?" Omar came in, looking for Anam. Anam smiled at Omar.

"I was telling Aneesa what gift you gave me on our first night."

Omar looked at Anam angrily.

"I think we should go home now," Omar said, grabbing Anam by the arm.

They both left. Omar was driving, speeding due to his anger. They arrived home.

"You had good taste," Anam said, looking at Omar.

"What was the need to lie to her?" Omar said angrily.

"I kept up appearances in front of you, otherwise, I had already told her before you came that you didn't come home all night," she said angrily.

"Oh, so these are your so-called wifely actions. You can never match her or take her place," they started fighting.

"I feel like breaking that wretch's face," Anam started taking off her earrings.

"If you say one more word about Aneesa, you'll face the consequences," Omar warned her.

"I will say it. She's a real piece of work. She trapped you. And I think you two..."

Before she could finish, Omar turned her around and slapped her hard across the face. She was stunned.

"You raised your hand on me?"

"Yes. And I'll do it again if you utter another word about Aneesa's character. I'll take your breath away," Omar pushed her and walked out.

Whatever happens to everyone on this path, has happened to me,

Sometimes alone in prison, sometimes humiliated in the marketplace.

The evening's fading red hues and increasing darkness carried a certain enchantment. Cool winds on Lahore's streets were continuously refreshing. The pleasant arrival of winter was on its way. The evening call to prayer added to the scenic beauty, creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquility.

Junaid was sitting in his room, rubbing his temple. The increasing pressure and anxiety on his mind were evident. He lay on the sofa with his legs propped up on the table. Mahenoor entered the room, carrying a mug of tea she had brought for Junaid.

"Have some tea; it will relieve your fatigue," Mahenoor said, smiling as she placed the cup on the table. Junaid smiled back faintly.

"What's the matter? Are you worried?" Mahenoor sensed his silence.

"No, I just need some time alone," he said, closing his eyes.

"Alright, I came here to give you the good news that Father has agreed to your marriage," Mahenoor said happily.

("He's agreed but taken away all the rights,") Junaid thought to himself.

"Thank you, it's because of you that Father agreed. When is my wedding?" Junaid asked slowly, his voice tired.

"In the third week of December."

"Okay. December..." he smiled.

"Remember to drink your tea," Mahenoor said as she left. Junaid picked up the mug and started sipping the tea. The mobile phone on the bedside table started ringing. He didn't have the energy to get up and answer it. He continued drinking his tea. It was half past seven. The phone kept ringing for a while. After finishing his tea, he picked up the mobile and saw that he had five missed calls from Khizar. He called Khizar back and, wrapping a shawl around himself, lay down while talking to him.

"How are you, Junaid?"

"I'm fine, just not feeling well today," Junaid replied in a soft voice.

"What happened? Is everything alright?" Khizar, sitting on the sofa in his room, asked. Batool sat on the bed with her head down.

"Yeah, I think I have a fever. How about you? How are you?" Junaid said, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and pressing his forehead with the other.

"I'm good. I wanted to ask about the case for which Colonel Sahib hired you."

"I'm still running around for that."

"So, what happened? Did you find anything?"

"I found some evidence, but it’s all gone now."

"What do you mean?" Khizar didn't understand.

"I had the evidence, but it all got lost," Junaid said, running his hand through his hair.

"Are you tired?" Khizar asked.

"No, it's just... I was so close to knowing everything, and then I lost it all."

"Everything will be fine. Just get some rest and don't think too much," Khizar consoled him. Junaid's voice grew fainter.

Batool stood up and went to the washroom to wash her face. When she came out, she saw Khizar lying on the bed, still talking to Junaid. Khizar gestured to Batool to bring him some water, and she went to fetch it.

"She's always sad, doesn't even talk. I'm the only one who keeps talking," Khizar said sadly, telling Junaid about Batool.

"It's okay, everything will be fine. Does she talk to Kashmala?" Junaid smiled.

"She's attached to Bhabi." Batool entered and placed the jug on the side table next to Khizar. Her dupatta hung loosely over her right shoulder. Khizar watched her as she bent down. Quiet by nature, she sat on the other side of the bed.

"Sometimes bring Aneesa and Mahnoor to meet her. Aneesa is really eager to see your bride."

"Really? Is that so?" Khizar's gaze was fixed on Batool, who was adjusting her blanket as she lay down. "I’ll have to ask Batool about it," he added, making Batool look at him, seemingly taken aback for a moment.

"How is she?" Khizar asked about Aneesa.

"She's fine, still up to her innocent mischiefs now and then."

"Doesn't she miss me?"

Batool listened intently to Khizar's words, her mind filled with various thoughts.

"She does, but she's busy with university work, which is good," Junaid laughed.

They talked for a long time. When Khizar was ready to sleep, he drank a glass of water.

"Should I give you some water?" he asked Batool.

"No," she replied softly.

"Should I turn off the light?"

"Up to you."

"I'll turn it off." Khizar got up and turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

"You must be thinking where you've ended up," she suddenly spoke, catching Khizar off guard.

"You came to mourn my father's death, and I was forcibly tied to you," she said in a faint whisper, her voice starting to break.

"You deserved someone pure, and me? Was I worthy of that?" In the darkness, Batool turned to face Khizar, her warm tears falling from her temples onto the pillow.

"Some things can't be expressed, some feelings can't be shown. Some things are heard, and some feelings are felt. I've heard you in your silence. I've felt you every moment." Khizar tried to bring her hand close to his lips, but she pulled it away.

"Aren't you disgusted by me? Have you never felt hatred for my existence?" Batool barely managed to breathe. "Have you never felt fear?"

Khizar propped himself up on his elbow and turned on the lamp on his side table. In the dim light, Batool's face came into view, her eyes wet, her face slightly red.

"Do you even know what I've been going through? Who told you that I hate you? And why would I be disgusted? What fear? Now that we're bound by this relationship, let's fulfill it."

"Are you happy?" A tear rolled down from Batool's eye, sliding off her nose onto the pillow.

"If I'm with you, then I'm happy. Now sleep, I have to wake up early." Khizar turned off the lamp, turned to the other side, and pretended to sleep.

"You sleep too," he said after a brief silence. He could hear her sobs. "We have to wake up early."

"Will you be able to fulfill this relationship?" she asked.

"What have I been doing so far?" Khizar asked back.

"I'm scared. If I lose you too... I can't move on. Why? Even if I try."

"It takes time for things to settle. Everything will be fine."

"Does everything get fixed just by saying it?" Only she could feel the tears flowing in the darkness.

"I don't know, Batool. Don't think too much. The present is beautiful, isn't it?" he consoled her.

The dark memories of the past merged and surfaced together. The present was right there too. The night passed in its darkness, and the light spread, because light always follows darkness.

I am a guest for a moment, O people of the gathering

I am the lamp of dawn, I am about to extinguish

As the shadows of the setting sun began to spread, Aneesa stood by the balcony, looking down at the children playing in the street below. Occasionally, a car or a motorbike would pass by. A little distance away, there was a cup placed on a table. A guitar rested beside her leg. She picked up the guitar and strummed the strings, trying to create a tune. The sound resonated, making her smile softly as she sat down on the floor.

Wherever I may be,  

Wherever I stay,  

Your memory is with me.

Whether I tell someone or not,  

This is what my heart says.

Outwardly, a whole world walks with me,  

But silently, in this heart, loneliness grows.

Only this memory remains,  

Your memory is with me,  

Your memory...

Clapping came from behind. Omar stood there with Zakariya. Aneesa quickly stood up, the guitar falling from her hands.

"Is this what you call studying?" Zakariya said sarcastically, glaring at Aneesa with anger.

"What will happen now?" she thought, glancing at Omar.

"Where did this come from?" Zakariya pointed to the guitar on the floor. 

"Dad..." Fear choked her voice. Time seemed to freeze.

"Pick up the guitar and come downstairs," Zakariya commanded and began descending the stairs. Omar stood there, looking at Aneesa. Her eyes held one question, "How did they find out?"

"Come on. Pick up the guitar," Imar said gently.

With trembling hands, she picked up the guitar and followed Imar downstairs, where Mahenoor stood facing Zakariya. Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha were in their respective rooms, and Kabeer was on duty. Her eyes searched for one person—Junaid. But he wasn’t there either. As she slowly descended the stairs, Zakariya stepped forward, grabbed her arm, and pushed her. She fell at Mahenoor's feet. Imar helped her up. Zakariya snatched the guitar and ripped out the strings. Then, he didn't stop, smashing the guitar on the ground repeatedly.

"Uncle, please stop," Omar pleaded. Aneesa stood hiding behind Mahenoor.

"Mahenoor..." she began to cry in fear.

Zakariya, having let go of the guitar, turned on Aneesa, slapping her repeatedly. Omar and Mahenoor tried to intervene.

"These are the things going on behind my back?" he shouted, hitting Aneesa.

"Uncle, please," Omar said, pulling Aneesa behind him. "What has gotten into you?"

"Tell her to stay out of my sight from now on," Zakariya said, collapsing onto the sofa. Crying, Aneesa ran away.

"This is all your fault," Zakariya said, looking at Mahenoor. "You have encouraged her."

"Me?" Mahenoor looked at her father in disbelief.

"Yes, you. If she continues with these actions, I will marry her off." He stood up and left. At the door, he saw Junaid coming in with Samaira, who had transferred to Lahore. Because of her, Behram had also transferred to Lahore just two weeks ago.

Seeing Junaid and Samaira, Zakariya's nerves tensed. They smiled, but Zakariya, without smiling or speaking to them, walked away. They felt strange.

Omar sat beside Mahenoor, who was crying.

"It's okay. Just ignore it, thinking that they are your elders, and they have the right to scold," Omar kept consoling her. "And Aneesa... how will we handle her? She must be crying too."

"What happened? What's going on?" Junaid asked, moving forward as he saw Mahenoor crying. "Why are you crying? What happened?" Samaira also moved forward.

"Uncle came and broke Aneesa's guitar," Imar explained.

"Oh," Junaid's eyebrows furrowed. "Where is Aneesa?"

"She went to her room upstairs," Omar pointed upwards.

"You look after Mahenoor; I'll go to Aneesa," Junaid told Samaira and headed towards Aneesa.

Climbing the stairs, he reached the room on the left where Aneesa was by the window, painting on a canvas. The door was open. Junaid could clearly see her back. Her hair was tangled, possibly because someone had pulled it. His heart ached seeing the disarray up of hair close. Entering the room, he quietly closed the door.

"I don't want to face anyone in this condition. Please leave," she said, coloring without looking at Junaid.

"But you might need me," Junaid said, running his fingers through her tangled hair. He glanced at the canvas where she was painting a flame.

"It's beautiful," Junaid remarked with admiration.

"It's even more beautiful," Aneesa replied, moving the canvas to reveal another one on the stand. It depicted a bird soaring in the open sky, flying on its own path.

"Yes, this bird is like you—free," Junaid smiled and looked at her. There was a red mark on her cheek, probably from a burn.

"It’s not like me yet. This bird is free, while I am imprisoned. I will tear this apart and make a new bird that will be exactly like me."

"No, you're not imprisoned; you’re free."

"Really?" Her voice softened. She wanted to say something more. "Leave me alone. I don't want to talk to anyone." She felt a burning sensation in her eyes.

"It’s okay. Don’t cry. Crying doesn’t help. Be strong. Be an iron lady," Junaid wiped her tears.

She laughed through her tears.

(“My wings are clipped. Why can’t anyone see that?”) Her heart ached.

"We're here, and as long as I'm here, no one can bring you down," Junaid reassured her.

"But even when you were here, Father beat me a lot and broke my guitar," she shook her head.

"No worries. It's just the way it is. You go on, I'll ask Omar to put some medicine on your cheek," Junaid said, bending down to kiss her head with affection.

"I don't want to go. Anywhere."

"A bruise will form on your cheek. Stop being stubborn, Aneesa," Junaid pleaded, extending his hand. She stood up and came outside with him. They were both coming down the stairs. Omar and Samaira were still sitting in the lounge.

"After this, I'll take you on a long drive," Junaid said, smiling at Aneesa. She said nothing.

"Omar, apply some medicine to her cheek, otherwise a mark will form. There should be some benefit to you being a dermatologist," Junaid said, smiling at Omar.

"Yes, sure, come here," Omar called Aneesa over.

"Does it hurt?" Omar asked, looking at the mark.

(No, the pain gives relief,) she thought and nodded in agreement.

"You can just give me the medicine, I'll apply it myself." She moved a bit away from Omar.

"It's okay, I'll apply it. It's no issue for me."

"But it is for me," she said firmly.

"I'll apply it," Samaira said gently.

"Yes, Samaira will apply it. Just tell us the name of the medicine, and Junaid will bring it," Aneesa said irritably.

"Okay, I'll text Junaid," Omar said, disappointed. Aneesa's behavior left him feeling hurt. He smiled faintly and stepped back.

"Apply some ice," Omar suggested.

"Yes, come on, I'll apply it," Samaira said, taking her with her.

Now only Omar and Junaid were left sitting there, and they started talking.

Love is also a game of fate,  

Will we turn to dust or become alchemy?

Three days later, Aneesa was standing in the room getting ready. Samaira was combing her hair, and Ayesha was standing by the bed putting on her abaya. Aneesa opened Samaira's bag to find a pin and began rummaging through it.

"I can't find my pin. You must have taken it," she said irritably while looking through the bag.

"I don't have it. What would I need it for?" Samaira finished doing her hair and began setting her hijab in front of the mirror.

"What is this?" Aneesa exclaimed in surprise.

"Whatever it is, take it," Samaira dismissed her words lightly and walked out. Ayesha had also left a few moments later.

Aneesa picked up a small box and sat on the bed. When she opened it, a white diamond sparkled inside.

"A ring. Is it real or fake?" She couldn't tell. "Samaira had said to take it. Whatever it is, I should take it. So, is it mine from today? No, no... but I don't wear rings." She shivered and put the ring back in the bag.

Samaira's mobile phone, lying on the bed, started ringing. Aneesa looked around and then picked up the phone.

"Sir?" She read the name. Now she was in a dilemma about whether to answer the call or not. Maybe it was an important call from the hospital.

She decided to answer the call.

"How are you, Samaira Ji?" The familiarity on the other end surprised her, and she didn't respond. The door opened, and Samaira came in, putting the bag on her shoulder and picking up some essential items.

"Your sir is on the phone," Aneesa informed her, taking the phone away from her ear.

"What?" Samaira quickly snatched the phone from Aneesa's hand.

"Hello?"

"It's Behram..."

"Yes, sir, I'm coming," she cut the call quickly before he could finish his sentence.

"Who was it?" Aneesa asked, eyeing Samaira suspiciously.

"It was a call from the hospital," Samaira lied easily. The whole truth had slipped away from the Samaira she once knew.

"Alright," Aneesa said and walked outside, where Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha were waiting for her.

Samaira came out five minutes after they had left. On her way to the hospital, she tried calling Behram, but he didn't answer. Was he busy? Samaira turned the car towards Behram's office.

"Is he upset?" She kept thinking, starting to worry. The disease of love was taking hold.

She parked the car in front of the office around nine. She went inside and approached the receptionist.

"Is Behram sir in?" Samaira asked the girl sitting there, whose name was Nimra.

"Do you have an appointment?" Nimra asked Samaira.

(Do I need an appointment?) Samaira thought. "No, but he knows me. Just tell him my name."

"Your name?"

"Samaira," she said in one word.

"Ma'am, please also tell me your last name."

"Samaira Noor."

"Okay," Nimra said, picking up the receiver and putting it to her ear.

"Sir, there's a girl named Samaira Noor here to see you. She wants to meet with you... Okay, sir."

The receptionist put the receiver down.

"Okay, you can go. Take a left from here... there's an elevator ahead, third floor... right hand."

"Okay," Samaira said as she walked away. She entered the elevator and pressed the required button. Reaching the third floor, she took a deep breath and turned to the right. She knocked on the door.

"Yes," came a male voice from inside.

She entered and saw Khawar sitting right in front of her. Seeing him, she was startled, her steps frozen at the door. Khawar also recognized her.

"Did they say right or left?" Samaira thought for a moment and then, taking small steps, she started to back out of the room.

"Stop," Khawar said angrily, making her tremble. "You... what are you doing here?"

As she moved forward, the door automatically locked behind her.

"I... I came for work," she said fearfully.

"What work?" He asked arrogantly, rocking in his chair.

"If it's not with you, why should I tell you?" She found Khawar's interrogation unpleasant.

"Standing in my office, you're threatening me?" He got up and walked around the table to stand in front of her. She stepped back with each step he took forward.

"If I want, I can ruin you right here, and no one would know," he got closer to her.

"Stay away from me," Samaira warned, pointing her finger at him. "I'm not Sarah, who will stay quiet. Coward." Her piercing gaze conveyed a lot. She pushed Khawar away to distance herself and moved towards the door but then stopped. She turned on her heels and looked at Khawar, then at the stool with a rare statue placed on it. She calmly raised her hand and knocked the statue to the floor.

"What have you done? That was worth two and a half lakhs!" he shouted, moving forward, but she had already exited the room.

Behram was walking towards her and stopped when he saw her. Khawar followed her out of the room.

"I was just about to ask for you. You here... with Khawar?" Behram looked at both of them.

"I accidentally went into that room," Samaira explained, gesturing.

"Come," Behram indicated towards his office room, but she declined.

"I'm running late. Sorry."

"But..."

Before Behram could say anything, she ignored him and left. Khawar also turned away. Behram clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Loosening the knot of his tie, he returned to his office room.

Whenever our gaze lifted, it lifted towards the sky,

Neither you nor I spoke to the estranged heavens.

The classroom was full of noise. Everyone was busy chatting. Aneesa was sitting next to Gul-e-Lala, and Malikah and Masooma were also sitting nearby.

"Shall we go outside?" Gul-e-Lala asked Aneesa.

"No, let's stay here," Aneesa said in a pleading tone. "And you stay here too, don't go outside," she added, grabbing his arm.

"Aneesa, since you joined, you've always stayed in the classroom. Let's go out and have some fun. Come on!" Masooma said, making a face. Gul-e-Lala smiled at her. Aneesa looked into Gul-e-Lala's eyes and then squeezed them shut, lowering her head in thought.

"Let's go to the canteen," Aneesa stood up. The four of them walked outside, where the rest of the students were gathered. Malikah, carrying her bag, walked on Aneesa's right side, with Gul-e-Lala on the other side. They continued chatting as they walked.

"They have nothing to do, always hanging around outside. When do they even study?" Aneesa remarked, watching the groups of boys and girls.

"Oh, forget it, what do we care," Masooma said quickly.

"Do you want to eat ice cream?" Malikah asked the three of them.

"Yes, but I'm not paying," Aneesa quickly replied.

"And I've left my bag inside," Gul-e-Lala also made an excuse.

"No problem, I'll pay," Malikah smiled and went to the canteen to get the ice cream. The canteen was quite crowded. Gul-e-Lala, Aneesa, and Masooma stood to the side.

"Now that winter is coming, I wonder if we'll even be able to get ice cream," Masooma was saying to Gul-e-Lala, while Aneesa was watching Malikah standing in the crowd. From where she stood, she could also see Asfand and Tanveer, who were watching Malikah. They had come to get some notes copied, and their notes were lying on the nearby bench.

Aneesa quietly walked over to the canteen and picked up their notes.

"Come on, Malika, hurry up!" she called out to Malikah, who quickly came over, holding four ice cream cones.

"What's that in your hand?" Masooma asked Aneesa while taking the ice cream from Malikah.

"These are notes," Aneesa replied briefly.

"Which subject's notes? Share them with us too," Masooma said.

"They're science notes. I'm going to make paper boats out of them," Aneesa said, laughing.

"Oh no, don't make boats. Sell them instead," Masooma suggested.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. You two go ahead; we'll catch up," Aneesa said, sending Gul-e-Lala and Malikah back while she set off in search of a buyer. But before that, she finished eating the ice cream in her hand and then, with satisfaction, began stopping each student to ask if they needed science notes.

"Wait a minute..." Aneesa paused to think. "Why don't I just sell Tanveer's notes back to him? Yeah, why didn't I think of that earlier?" she grinned mischievously.

"Come on, I've found a buyer," Aneesa said, pulling Masooma along with her. But first, they decided to make some minor and major changes to the notes. They stood off to the side as Aneesa began scribbling on the notes, crossing out some words and sentences and adding new ones.

"Hey, who's the buyer? We'll split the money fifty-fifty," Masooma said, making it clear from the start.

"Sure, but I'll take an extra hundred. After all, it's me we're talking about—how could I let my hard work go unrewarded?" Aneesa replied.

Eventually, the two approached Tanveer.

"Hello, brother," Aneesa said with a smile.

"Where did the sun rise from today? What am I seeing? Have you really come to me, or am I dreaming?" Tanveer pinched himself to check.

"Pick up a brick and hit yourself on the head; then you'll know it's real," Aneesa retorted sarcastically.

"I won't beat around the bush; these are notes," Aneesa waved the notes in front of him. "I made them. The class topper. If you study these, you'll definitely top the exams."

Masooma couldn't help but be impressed by Aneesa's confidence as she delivered her pitch.

"Yeah, I need them. I lost mine," Tanveer said nonchalantly. "Thanks for thinking of me," he added, reaching out for the notes.

"I'm Aneesa; I don't do anything without a reason. Remember that. Pay up," Aneesa extended her palm.

"How much?" Tanveer asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, barely two hundred for these notes," Masooma chimed in, making a face.

"Not too much... just around a thousand," Aneesa stated casually.

Masooma's eyes widened in surprise. She quickly turned her face away, trying to hide her laughter. She hadn't expected Aneesa to pull that off.

"What? Are you out of your mind? I could buy two new books with that money," Tanveer exclaimed.

"Fine, go buy the books then," Aneesa snapped. "This money isn't just for the notes; it's for my hard work too. I spent days and nights putting these together. Do you even realize that?" She tried to intimidate Tanveer, her tone suddenly turning harsh.

"If you want the notes, pay up. If not, I’ll find another buyer," she said, turning to leave, but Tanveer stopped her.

"Alright, here," he said, handing over a crisp thousand-rupee note to Aneesa. "But you guarantee these questions will be on the exam, right?"

"Yes, absolutely. I guarantee it," Aneesa said confidently, taking the money and walking away.

Now it was time to split the money evenly. The thousand-rupee note had to be divided into four parts. Gul-e-Lala and Malikah were also supposed to get their share.

"Okay, whatever I give you, you take. Agreed?" Aneesa raised her hand, and the three nodded.

"Here you go—two hundred for Gul-e-Lala, two hundred for you, Masooma, and two hundred for Malikah," Aneesa handed out the shares.

"What’s this?" Masooma asked in a flat tone, looking at her. "You get four hundred, and we get two hundred each? Why?"

"Whose idea was it? Mine. Who sold the notes? I did. So who deserves the bigger share? Me," Aneesa defended herself, supporting her own argument. Gul-e-Lala smiled at her cleverness.

"And when Tanveer finds out, who will get into trouble? You," Masooma laughed and put the two hundred rupees into her bag.

"You're so adventurous," Malikah smiled at her. "I enjoy hanging out with you." Aneesa laughed wholeheartedly at her comment.

Now just have to make sure he doesn’t find out.

Wrap the shroud around your head, let not my killers think,

That the pride and dignity of love was forgotten in death.

The sky was filled with scattered clouds. When you look up at the sky, the deep blue stretches before you, as if it’s about to rain. The streets of Lahore were packed with traffic. The noise of car horns could be heard all around. Amidst this, the red signal was glowing. The cars were at a standstill. Behram was sitting in the car, trying to open some files on his laptop, perhaps to find something incriminating against him and erase those proofs forever. But he wasn’t finding anything. The driver started the car.

"If the signal is red, don’t stop. I’m getting late; there’s a meeting today," Behram said sternly to the driver. The driver just nodded in agreement. Then, Behram dialed Furqan’s number on his mobile and said:

"Junaid is with someone else too. Find out who and let me know. Quickly." He gave Furqan an order and hung up the phone. The car stopped in front of the office. He entered the office. The receptionist greeted him.

"Where is Khawar?" Behram asked hurriedly as soon as he arrived.

"Sir has left for Islamabad," Nimra replied with a smile.

"Okay. And did Ibrahim Sir come by?"

"Yes, sir. He’s probably waiting for you in your office."

Behram took the elevator to his office, where Ibrahim was sitting with his leg crossed, seemingly waiting for Behram.

"Assalamu Alaikum, Uncle. How are you?" Behram took off his coat, hung it on the stand, and took his seat.

"Walaikum Assalam. I’m fine, how are you? What’s going on? I’ve been hearing complaints about you lately," Ibrahim said to Behram, stroking his chin.

"Sorry? I don’t understand."

"If you want a name in this field, then do what your father says."

"Oh, so you've come here on his orders," Behram raised an eyebrow.

"Listen, son... he will never wish anything bad for you."

"Alright, then tell him to stop meddling in my affairs, and I'll stay out of his. He gives approvals for illegal activities in my name. And me? Do you know Junaid Khan has found evidence against me? He’s going to get me dismissed." He suddenly burst out in anger.

"Don't worry about that. As long as Zakariya is our friend, his children can't harm us in any way."

"Oh wow, what a reassurance. He's already done it. And…"

Just then, Furqan's call came in. Behram left his sentence unfinished and attended the call.

"Sir, you were right. Junaid isn't acting against you on his own; he's following orders from above." Furqan's words made Behram's nerves tighten. Who had the audacity to go against him?

"Who is it?" A fire ignited within Behram.

"Colonel Javed Aleem and Colonel Maisoor... do you know them?" Furqan didn't know them, but Behram did.

"Yes, I know them. Alright... keep me informed if you get any more information." He hung up the phone.

"Junaid's supporters are your friends, Colonel Javed Aleem and Colonel Maisoor..." Behram looked at Ibrahim with questioning eyes.

"Now, whatever happens, Junaid must not reach me." Behram leaned back in his chair. He knew that everything would be fine now, and if it wasn’t, he could fix it himself.

"Don't worry." Ibrahim got up and left.

Behram went back to his routine work.

It was 10 a.m. Ibrahim Sikandar was sitting with Colonel Maisoor at his home. Cups of tea were placed on the table.

"So, it's settled then. You will remove that boy from the case," Ibrahim said as he took a sip of tea.

"What will I tell him?" Colonel Maisoor asked.

"That's your problem. Say whatever you want. Just tell him that everything is fine and he needs to step back."

"He's already made progress. He has gathered substantial evidence. He won’t back down."

"Think about it... You will be given any amount you desire, along with the plot next to your property, which is worth millions in the market. And I know you're keen to acquire it. Your generations will live in luxury," Ibrahim said, continuing to drink his tea.

Colonel Maisoor began to salivate at the thought. The mention of millions made his heart greedy. He started nodding in agreement, slowly becoming convinced by Ibrahim's words. He began to think about his own benefit. The people who were supposed to protect the country were now conspiring to loot it together. When the guardians themselves start plundering the garden, what remains?

"But what if he doesn’t agree?" Colonel Maisoor expressed his concern.

"Leave the rest to us. Don't think too much," Ibrahim said as he placed his cup back on the table.

"I'll be going now. I hope the job gets done," he smiled, extended his hand for a handshake, and then left.

So, holding the treasures of the soul, we returned with a heavy heart,

Who could we sell them to, for there was no trust in the city?

Junaid was sitting in the agency office. Colonel Javed had called him in for a conversation. Colonel Maisoor was also present. Junaid and Colonel Maisoor were seated on the chairs in front of the table, their faces serious. The three of them had gathered to discuss the issue. They had to convince Junaid to withdraw the action against Behram. A heater was running in the room.

"Step back, Junaid, nothing will be left," Colonel Javed Aleem said to Junaid in a worried tone.

"When? Now? Now that I have all the evidence?" Junaid retorted.

"This case has nothing to do with Behram. You will be killed," Maisoor tried to explain.

"Tell me one thing truthfully. I swear by it," Junaid turned seriously towards Colonel Maisoor. "How much money are you getting?"

Mysore was enraged by this question from Junaid.

"Have you gone mad? What nonsense are you talking about? We are trying to save you."

"Don't save me. You were the ones who made me promise that I would sacrifice my life to save the country. Today, looters are plundering. So, should I let them loot? I'm sorry, but I can't close my eyes like you people. I'm saying this right here in this office. You've sold out, but I'm not for sale. Did you hear that? Junaid Khan is not for sale."

"Junaid, please, the situation is not the same as before. They can do anything. They will bring you close to death, and no one will even know," Colonel Javed leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

"I accept death, but I won't sell my conscience. Even if I back down today, my conscience won't be at peace tomorrow. I'd rather die."

"Get a grip on yourself. Do you even realize what they can do? You have no idea," Colonel Maisoor pressed, trying to make Junaid see reason.

"What has happened to you? Weren't you with us before? So..." Junaid began to suspect Colonel Maisoor. He felt that Maisoor's intentions had been corrupted, and corrupted intentions meant selling one's conscience. Now, Junaid didn't want to back down.

"You still have to settle in life, Junaid. Tomorrow you'll have children; think about your future," Maisoor brought up Junaid's future.

"Don't worry about that. Who has seen tomorrow? What matters is the present, this moment, this instant." Junaid stood up. "Give me that file that I had emailed to you."

"Well... I lost it," Maisoor lied.

"No problem. You're lying, and I know it. I won't force you. Just remember this: those who support the guilty are guilty themselves. This stain won't wash off." Taking one final look at both of them, he walked out.

"Now what?" Colonel Maisoor looked at Javed Aleem with concern.

"Let him do whatever he wants," Javed replied indifferently and began reading the newspaper in front of him.

Colonel Maisoor's mind kept returning to the plot and the benefits Ibrahim had offered. He was fixated on the assets he needed to live a comfortable life at any cost.

Sitting in the car, Junaid kept thinking about what could have happened that made both of them consider dropping the case, especially now when they were so close to uncovering Behram's dark deeds.

There was no one left here whom he could trust. He had to take his next step with extreme caution. He was alone in this crowd. This journey was not one to be wasted. He had to dedicate his life to something greater, something that was difficult but not impossible.

What is this time

What is it that continuously passes

Mianwali 

It was lightly drizzling outside. All the family members were together in the same room. The cold was intensifying outside, and a severe wave of cold was ongoing. A kettle of tea was placed on the table in the middle. Zakariya was sitting on a charpoy with Naveed. Aneesa was sitting between Junaid and Samaira, whispering and chatting. Naheed was in the kitchen with Farhana and Aima, supervising the work. Omar was engrossed in conversation with Shahroz while drinking tea. Sahira was sitting with Mahenoor and Anam, talking about Doha. 

"So it's decided then, we will arrange Junaid's marriage with Mehr Ali's niece. She comes from a good family," Zakariya said in a low voice to Naveed.

"Yes, that would be good. And what about Samaira?" 

"Should we arrange Samaira's marriage as well?" Zakariya said thoughtfully, glancing at Samaira, who was laughing at something Aneesa had said. "Let's not rush Samaira's marriage right now. I have a friend with a son; I can finalize that later. For now, I’m thinking we should just focus on Junaid's marriage. It’s a bit distant." Who knows what might be going through their minds. "Let’s get Aneesa engaged first. He... Our boy... Liaqat Niazi's son... what's his name?" Zakariya tried to remember. "Yes, Tanveer... he's a good boy. Matches like this don’t come around often. And they’re close by."

"Will Aneesa agree? You should ask her," Naveed said with a smile.

"No need to ask her. She will be happy with my decision," Zakariya said proudly and began drinking tea. "She won’t go against my wishes."

Both of them looked at Aneesa, who was conversing confidentially with Junaid and Samaira.

Mahenoor got up and picked up the empty tea mug from in front of Zakariya.

"Would you like some more tea?" Mahenoor asked Naveed and Zakariya.

"No, no, that's enough," Naveed replied with a smile.

Mahenoor collected the dishes and began placing them in the kitchen.

Aima took the dishes from Mahenoor's hands. Mahenoor returned and sat down beside Sahira.

"I think dad is discussing your marriage," Aneesa whispered to Junaid, covering her mouth with her hand.

"How do you know?" Junaid chuckled softly.

"I just know. I wish they would also settle Samaira's matter," Aneesa smiled faintly.

"Be quiet! Who knows about Samaira, but they will definitely marry you off to someone," Junaid teased her.

"God forbid!" Aneesa immediately put her hand over her heart. "My turn will come last."

"But I want to see both of you as brides. How about all three of us get married on the same day?" Junaid smiled, looking at both of them.

"Yeah, but you have to find the boys first," Samaira said as the three of them laughed.

"Shall we go outside?" Aneesa asked Junaid. All the other family members were busy with their own conversations.

"Now?" Junaid looked at the time on his watch. It was 4 o'clock, and a cold wind was blowing outside.

"Yeah, let's go to the barrage. It'll be fun. But I can't stand that guy who always says, 'Move away, this place is not allowed for standing,'" Aneesa pouted.

"It's cold outside, and the wind is blowing. If Mom finds out, she'll break our legs," Samaira tried to discourage them.

"Junaid... I really want to go. Who knows when I'll get another chance. You'll be getting married soon," Aneesa grabbed Junaid's arm.

"Alright, I'll come up with an excuse. You quietly go to the gate; I'll meet you there," Junaid whispered.

Aneesa got up and went to stand by the gate outside.

Junaid started pacing around the room and then went into the kitchen.

"Samaira, are you coming?" he called out to her from the doorway. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised.

"Where are you going?" Zakariya was the first to ask.

"Father... Aneesa's friend's mother is very ill, and Samaira needed to pick up some documents from the hospital. Isn't that right, Samaira?" Junaid signaled to Samaira.

"Yes, I had to go. I forgot," Samaira said, getting up and heading outside.

"And who gave Aneesa permission to go? Where is she? She’s not going anywhere," Zakariya asked Junaid.

"Father, she's already in the car. She'll be back soon, just ten minutes," Junaid said seriously, and Zakariya fell silent.

Now the three of them were standing at Jinnah Barrage. As always, Aneesa stood between them. The sound of the water and the strong, cold wind filled the air. Samaira, wrapped in her shawl, stood there shivering. Aneesa opened her arms wide and closed her eyes. When Samaira playfully slapped her, Aneesa involuntarily opened her eyes.

"What if someone comes?" Samaira asked angrily.

"No one will come. I gave that guy some money," Junaid said, his hands in his pant pockets.

"You stay here. We’ll be back," Aneesa said, grabbing Junaid's hand and leading him down the steps closer to the water.

"Sit down." They both sat down by the water's edge.

"How much fun this is! There's no one to stop us," Aneesa said as her lips trembled from the cold, but she didn't care.

"When your wife comes, promise me you'll still bring me here," Aneesa extended her hand.

"I promise," Junaid said, shaking her hand, and then sat with his head resting against hers.

"Junaid, you're the only one who listens to everything I say. Otherwise, Shahroz... he makes a hundred excuses first, then taunts me, humiliates me, and still doesn't do what I ask," she said sadly.

"It's nothing. In fact, it's good. You should become independent. It's not good to rely on others for every little thing," Junaid replied.

"Hmm," she nodded in agreement. There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the water and the thoughts swirling inside them both.

"How deep do you think this water is?" Aneesa broke the silence.

"I've never gone in," Junaid laughed.

"Never go in," Aneesa warned. Junaid looked at her with a surprised smile. Strands of her hair danced in the wind.

"If I look at the water too long, I start to feel dizzy," she said, standing up and moving a little distance away. Junaid remained seated.

"We'll go home late, Junaid. I'm in no hurry. When I go home, I always feel a certain emptiness," she said softly.

Could Junaid refuse her request? He smiled and nodded in agreement.

Samaira stood alone, watching the water from above. She turned back and walked towards where Aneesa and Junaid had gone. When she saw them, she stopped. From a distance, she observed them. Aneesa was holding Junaid's arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Both of them had their backs turned to Samaira.

Samaira glanced at the watch strapped to her wrist. It was six o'clock. Time was passing, but she hadn't realized it. Like every other moment, this one too would pass. Darkness was approaching. But she couldn't muster the courage to go back and instead returned to stand by the railing. The fast flow of the water began to slow down. The waves started to calm, but somewhere else, a noise was growing. She looked up at the sky and felt as if the whole world was familiar. But when she looked down at the ground beneath her feet, it felt like nothing truly belonged to her. Even her own existence felt foreign. She smiled softly, lost in the sight of the river's waves.

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