White Roses Episode 08

 

White Roses as symbol of love 

I__The Slayer of Humanity

My heart is weary of living,

Every breath is a torment.

At around midnight, there was a rush of bikes and cars outside a nightclub in Lahore. Inside, the red light was glowing, and the atmosphere was charged with lust. Men, women, and underage boys and girls were enjoying themselves, dancing and hooting to the loud music playing. Among them, Malikah sat on a couch leaning against the wall, drinking juice. She was wearing a red maxi, and her short hair was styled forward. Sitting next to her was a man in his forties who kept staring at her. She remained seated, sipping her juice, and ignoring him. He stood up and moved closer, sitting beside her. He smiled slightly and traced his finger around Malikah's face. Malikah closed her eyes in restraint and grabbed his hand.

"I like you," the man said.

"I'm not who you think I am," Malikah said, standing up and leaving. The woman Malikah had been waiting for arrived, accompanied by a man. As the woman entered the room, Malikah followed quickly with her bag slung over her shoulder. 

"Search her," the woman said to the man standing with her.

"Yes," he replied, and a cursory search of Malikah was conducted. Finding nothing, she entered the room, and the door closed behind her. The loud music from outside became muffled.

"Fateh said that I should let you know that you're no longer needed. I'm doing that job for him," Malikah said to the woman who was sitting on the couch with her arms spread out.

"That's not your concern," she replied dismissively. "Saju, pour the drink." Then she addressed the man standing beside her. Saju immediately poured the liquor into a glass and handed it to Khushboo.

"He wouldn't have said that," Khushboo said, glaring sharply at Malikah.

The same scene replayed in Malikah's mind.

"What do you want, for her to suffer? You handle this job. Otherwise, if Khushboo does my work, your friend's delicate body will be hurt." At Fateh's last comment, Malikah's eyes widened, and she shivered.

"I'm handling his job," Malikah said in a low voice.

"You'll handle it? Honor your friendship. Let me do this work. We might as well enjoy ourselves with this girl," Khushboo said, and Malikah felt a surge of fear. Her grip on the bag strap tightened, and she felt an urge to run away from there.

"You need to bring her here," Khushboo said, pointing with her finger. Saju laughed.

"She won't come here. She knows this place isn't right," Malikah said, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

"Entertain her, seduce her, do whatever it takes. But..." Khushboo shouted. "But she must come here. At any cost... under any circumstances."

"She'll suffer," Malikah sobbed. "She'll choke. She'll die."

"Let her die," Khushboo said despondently.

"By God's grace, take my place instead. Tell Fateh to use me, but... don't do that to her. She is innocent." Malikah pleaded, sitting at Khushboo's feet and holding them.

"Give me the picture," Khushboo said, extending her hand. Her fingers were adorned with three gold rings, and her wrist was covered with four chunky gold bangles. She was entirely draped in gold.

"I had given it to Fateh," Malikah averted her gaze. Khushboo kicked her, causing Malikah to fall back.

"Get out of my sight." Khushboo stood up and dragged Malikah by her hair, shoving her out of the room. Malikah stood in the middle of the crowd, silently crying. She then went outside. The cold had increased; the weather outside was significantly colder compared to the warmth inside. Malikah wrapped a shawl around herself and got into the car.

"Let's go. Home," she said in a subdued voice to the driver. It was past midnight. When she reached home, she saw her mother was still waiting. She took off her high heels and placed them by the bed. Hajra looked at her with disapproval.

"You should have gone to bed. I told you it would be late," Malikah unzipped her clothes and entered the bathroom.

"How can anyone sleep when their young daughters are out at midnight?" Hajra remarked.

"I did nothing wrong; I had work. I finished it and came back," Malikah's voice came from the bathroom.

"If it was work, why did you need to dress up so nicely?"

"You wouldn't understand." Malikah came out of the bathroom, changed, turned off the light, and went to bed. Both mother and daughter tried to sleep in the dark. Malikah's mind was filled with thoughts, and only the sound of breathing was audible, like the warm breeze of a summer night.

Then it so happened that I had to leave you

It proved that nothing is essential and inherent

The room was enveloped in deep silence. She sat quietly with her head bowed on her knees. Since she had learned that her engagement with Tanveer was in two days, she had become silent. She wanted to refuse, but that refusal was etched on her left cheek.

"Where should I put this?" Sahira entered with the engagement items in her hands. Aneesa looked up at her but said nothing. Sahira held a box with all the items and placed it next to the dressing table.

"My turn doesn’t come first," she kept repeating. Sahira came over and sat beside her.

"It will come eventually. Today or tomorrow. And besides, it’s just an engagement, not a wedding," Sahira said, hugging her affectionately.

"He doesn’t deserve me," tears still lingered in Aneesa’s hazel, transparent eyes. Sahira looked at her in response to her words.

"Yes, it’s like tying a monkey with a fairy," Samaira entered, taking a large bite from an apple and lying down on the bed in front of Aneesa. "Run away," Samaira advised with a smirk.

"What nonsense are you talking? If she get caught, Uncle will beat you," Sahira was surprised by Samaira's comment.

"And if you escape?" Samaira jolted up and faced Aneesa. "'If' you get caught, you will be beaten."

"What do you want?" Samaira asked.

"I? I don’t want to have this engagement. I don’t want it. I don’t want it," she cried while sitting cross-legged.

"Well, okay. For now, have the engagement. Don’t get married. Who knows, a solution might come up in between."

"It wouldn’t have been like this if..." Aneesa started speaking and looked at Sahira. Sahira’s gaze was also fixed on her.

"If Omar had agreed to marry you?" Samaira completed the unfinished sentence.

"Yes." She turned her face away.

"Don't bring Omar into this. Think about it. Think about me. If you don’t get engaged now, Dad will get me married off too," Samaira raised her hand as she spoke.

"You're worried about yourself?" Uncertainty flooded Aneesa's eyes.

"Yes, I am. But I’m worried about you too," Samaira replied quickly.

"You’re just making her more anxious," Sahira said, pulling Samaira away by the arm.

"I just want to tell her that she has no future right now," Samaira’s words made Aneesa look at her strangely. ("Does Samaira really think that about me?") "But I do. If she agrees to this engagement, my future will be secure, and then I’ll help you out," Samaira presented a simple solution that left Aneesa with no escape.

"I can’t even imagine myself with Tanveer. Who knows what he’ll do to me after marriage," she began crying again. "He’ll beat me every day, drag me by my hair, and take out all his frustrations on me. He’ll never understand me. He’s a loser; we’re not a match. He’s failed the matriculation exam three times."

"That’s how marriages are," Samaira stood up.

"Oh, come on, stop crying. There’s still time; maybe he won’t be like that. People can change," Sahira hugged her.

"Yes! I have an idea," Samaira exclaimed again. Sahira and Aneesa looked at her hopefully. "Run away the day before the wedding night. Or on the wedding day! How about that?" Samaira jumped up with excitement. "That’s how it happens in movies too. It’ll be so much fun. A movie in real life! Ahaha!"

Sahira took off her shoe and threw it at Samaira, but she quickly ran out of the room.

"Please save me," she looked at Sahira with hope in her eyes.

"I would have saved you if you had told me earlier that you wanted to marry Omar. Everyone knew, except me. If you had told me earlier, I might have been able to convince him, but..." Sahira fell silent.

Now, everything had to be left behind. The heart had to be convinced. What she had wanted was not hers, was not in her destiny. Now a seal was about to be stamped, forever and ever.

You too have turned from a gem to a stone,  

And who knows what we might become tomorrow

The darkness loomed over the Sikandar Palace. The night outside was cold, and within the palace, one room was faintly illuminated by a dim yellow light. The small bulb cast a gentle glow in the room. It was the last part of the night. Behram's eyes opened. He turned over and sat up straight, switched on the side lamp, and glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past three. He got up to drink water, but sleep had vanished completely. After taking a few sips, he sat there for a while, holding the glass in his hand. His mind started drawing maps, as if a film was playing. He had a habit of turning off screen time from ten at night to six in the morning. A book lay beside his pillow, the one he had fallen asleep reading. 

After placing the glass back, he leaned towards the drawer and opened it. He picked up a small box. Opening the box, he found a locket inside. It was incredibly beautiful yet deadly. He took the locket in his hand, from which a ruby was hanging. He smiled faintly. The bright red ruby gleamed before his eyes. For a moment, he imagined a beloved face and then, clutching the ruby in his fist, he closed his eyes. Then he carefully placed it back in the box and returned it to the drawer.

He removed the blanket from himself and entered the washroom. After changing clothes, he came out wearing a jogging shirt and trousers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he put on his joggers, then donned his jacket and stepped outside, eventually exiting the palace. The cold was bone-chilling. He opened the main gate. The road was deserted. He started running, slowly at first, then suddenly picked up speed. After a short distance, he bent down on his knees, catching his breath. Breathing heavily, he looked around. Everything was desolate, with only the sounds of animals howling in the distance.

"Junaid will come, and I'll start writing his fate." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The owl perched on a tree turned its eyes, and the wolves howled in unison. A strange spell seemed to descend, and with it, a sense of fear began to spread in the darkness. Amidst all of this, he lifted his face toward the sky and screamed. He screamed so loudly that it broke the silence around him. 

He opened his arms wide and looked up at the sky. A single drop of water fell on his face. Then more drops began to fall, and the dew started to settle.

In the valleys, watching for centuries, 

you came and smiled for a moment, and I kept searching  

After the break of dawn, the house was bustling with activity. Preparations for both an engagement and a wedding were underway. A light fog lingered outside. Naheed was in the kitchen, preparing food, with Kashmala assisting her. The children were sitting in a room, playing. Nearby, Aneesa was lying under a quilt, scrolling through a screen and munching on peanuts. However, the phone wasn't hers; it belonged to Sania.

The Whatsapp chat was open. It was clear from the words that Shahzaib and Sania were having an affair.

"Astaghfirullah," Aneesa muttered while reading the chat. There were three other single beds in the room. One had Samaira sitting on it, and after leaving space for Kashmala, Mahenoor was on the fourth bed, looking through Aneesa’s engagement items.

In the adjacent room, Omar and Anam were staying. They would all be there until Junaid's wedding. Farhana was sitting in another room with Mashal. Kashmala entered and placed two cups of tea in front of them. Farhana gave Kashmala a sharp look.

"Where is your husband?" she asked, picking up the cup of tea.

"He's outside; he'll be back shortly," she replied, turning to leave, but Farhana stopped her.

"And your mother-in-law?"

"She'll arrive with Khizar by 3 PM," Kashmala said and quickly left the room. She went to her bed and lay down, placing Rania beside her.

"What happened to you?" Aneesa asked, glancing away from her screen.

"If it were just one thing, I'd tell you," she replied in exasperation, and all three of them looked at her curiously. "Farhana Aunty has made my life miserable. If I do something, it's a problem; if I don't, it's a problem." Then she adjusted the blanket over Rania.

"What happened?" Mahenoor asked, turning towards her.

"They still haven't gotten over their habit of taunting," Kashmala said, raising her hand. "And if I say something, they'll get offended and leave."

"Forget about it," Aneesa waved her hand dismissively. Her face was buried in the quilt, with her eyes peeking out.

"You go get ready," Mahenoor said, looking at her.

"There's still time; the engagement is at four. And it's cold; I'm not going anywhere," Aneesa said, putting her phone under her pillow and snuggling deeper into the quilt.

"Get her up, or Mom will scold us. We were supposed to get her ready," Mahenoor stood up and hovered over Aneesa, pulling the quilt off her. She forcibly dragged her by the arm and pushed her towards the bathroom. Aneesa shivered from the cold.

"Take a shower first, then we'll all help you get ready," Mahenoor said, and then sat down with Kashmala to chat.

Samaira was lying under a blanket. She had made a spot beside her pillow where she had placed a bag. Kneeling, she was reading a piece of paper placed on her knees.

"Dear Samaira, I hope you are well. I thought we could talk in person, but perhaps that is not possible now. I don't know how you will react, but what can I do? I have fallen in love with you."

"Please don't be upset. I will never force you to marry me. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. I want to meet you, just once. In that meeting, I want to convince you... of my love, to assure you of my dedication. If life ever gives me the chance, I will strive to win you over."

The letter ended, and a heart was drawn at the bottom with the letter "S" written inside it. Samaira glanced at the letter with disgust, raised her eyebrows, and expressed her annoyance. She folded the letter layer by layer and then tore it into pieces, shredding it into many small fragments.

"Rubbish," she muttered, getting up to throw the torn pieces into the dustbin before lying back down.

Shayan and Uzair were sitting by the study table, playing a game.

"Up and down and round and round," they both chanted in unison.

Aneesa came out after her shower, wearing her engagement outfit, which was multicolored with a long frock that reached her ankles.

"Look, she didn't even wash her face with soap," Samaira immediately pointed out. Kashmala and Mahnoor glared at her.

"Do my hair first; I'll wash my face afterward," Aneesa said as she stood in front of the mirror.

The day was progressing, and it was already noon. Mahenoor was combing Aneesa's hair while Kashmala was putting bangles on her wrists. Samaira was hurriedly preparing herself.

"Blush a little, you're the bride," Mahenoor advised her.

"Go wash your face; I'll be right back," Mahenoor said as she left the room. She had to get Shayan ready as well.

Aneesa stood in front of the bathroom sink and began washing her face. Kashmala and Mahenoor were busy with their own preparations, while Samaira, now ready, sat on the bed.

"Breaking news... A husband killed his wife in the name of honor. According to sources, the wife had an illicit relationship with another man." She was reading news. 

Samaira's voice reached Aneesa's ears.

Aneesa paused, her soap-covered face reflecting in the mirror.

"In the name of honor?" Aneesa, standing by the sink, asked Samaira.

"Yes."

"The husband could have just left his wife instead of killing her. Was murder really necessary? He could have divorced her," Aneesa thought to herself. "The wife could have killed him too. She could have fought back," she suddenly exclaimed.

"How would she have done that?" Samaira stood by the bathroom door. "You should try killing someone in the name of honor someday," she added, shaking her foot as she spoke.

Aneesa splashed water on her face.

"Maybe he was having an affair too?" Aneesa began splashing more water on her face. "And even if he wasn't, I'd involve him in something or the other," she said, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Everything seemed clearer in the clean mirror. Suddenly, she wondered why she hadn't thought of this earlier.

"Are you asking or telling?" Samaira was confused.

Just then, Sahira entered the room, placed some gajray on the table, and left. Aneesa came out of the bathroom and put the bracelets on her wrists, her gaze fixed on Samaira.

"I was really hurt when you told me that I have no future," Aneesa said, steering the conversation in a different direction.

"Oh, I only said that to cheer you up because you were sad... I was just trying to make you laugh," Samaira wrapped her arms around her.

Aneesa ignored her and started applying lipstick.

"Samaira, have you ever thought that I..." Aneesa stopped mid-sentence, sitting down in front of the mirror and looking at herself. She touched the necklace wrapped around her neck. "Could I ever become a rebel?"

"No, you? And a rebel? You can't even kill a fly," Samaira laughed, but Aneeda remained serious.

"When Junaid's wedding is over... I'll be so happy. Just two more days... and then... Madiha will be in our house. My friend... with me. Wow." She got up and started spinning around, talking about things that seemed to make no sense.

This engagement was something she had to go through with, no matter what. If she wanted to rid herself of the thorn named Tanveer, this engagement was essential.

She was twirling around like a madwoman, sometimes hugging Samaira. She was laughing joyfully, and the air was filled with the scent of happiness.

Receiving the signal of a new season

That jasmine-scented garden will bloom

The room was filled with the warmth of the heater and a soft light. Waking up from sleep, he got up. Rubbing his eyes, he left the warm bed and rushed to the bathroom. Qasim opened the door and went inside. He started tidying up the room, carefully cleaning every corner. When Behram came out after his shower, he saw the room was clean and everything was in its place. He applied gel to his hair, fastened his cufflinks, and sprayed perfume on both sides of his neck. He put on his watch and picked up his coat before stepping outside.

At the breakfast table, as usual, only Sultana Begum was sitting. Behram was being awaited. They both started eating. 

“Where is Amar?” Behram asked while eating his omelette with a fork.

“It’s winter vacations. She must be sleeping,” Sultana said, lifting her glass of juice to her lips. “Fateh has arrived.”

Behram paused his eating. “When?” He pushed his plate forward and placed his fork on it.

“He arrived last night. I didn’t know either. It was a surprise,” she said with a smile.

“Does Uncle Ibrahim know?”

“He will find out. But for now, he’ll stay here in Lahore. With 'me’,” she said, smiling.

“Okay. I have to go; I’m getting late,” he said, standing up.

“Have breakfast properly,” Sultana called after him, but he left saying, “I’m getting late.”

From behind, Malikah handed him his bag and laptop.

“Do you also have winter vacations?” he asked Malikah, who was matching her pace with his as they walked quickly.

Yes. She continued walking until they reached the car. “And then there will be exams in mid-January,” Malikah said, even before Behram could ask.

“Do you have something to say?” Behram turned towards her.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice thoughtful.

“Make it quick; I don’t have time. I’m getting late,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Okay, I’ll tell you later,” she said, somewhat embarrassed, and went inside the house. Behram watched her and then got into the car.

“Drive to the office,” he told the driver once he was seated in the car.

Malikah went to the study room where Ibrahim and Niaz Sikandar used to sit. She started cleaning the cabinets. Dusting off the books, she placed a chair and began cleaning the top of the cabinet. Her gaze fell on a dusty envelope that Ibrahim had likely placed high up to keep it out of sight. Malikah took the envelope down and moved towards the door, closing the glass door behind her. She adjusted the curtain so that no one could see inside.

Sitting on the chair, she opened the envelope. Inside were some photographs and money. There was also a USB. She flipped through the photos, her eyes widening in shock. Her hands began to tremble. In the photos, Niaz Sikandar was seen aiming a gun at someone. In another picture, the same man was lying on the ground, motionless and covered in blood, with visible wounds. It was Malikah’s father. Ibrahim Sikandar was also standing nearby. She put the photos back in the envelope and held the USB, unsure of what to do. She slipped the USB into the sleeve of her sweater and started looking at the money.

Wrapped in fog, a scene began to draw her in. She sat as if spellbound, allowing herself to be caught in the enchantment. Trying to take a deep breath, she placed her hand on her chest. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Uncle, please help me," she was saying to Niaz Sikandar as she sat before him. They were both standing in the palace’s lawn. It was the morning after Malikah had returned from the club. The morning sunlight felt pleasant on the body, though a hint of cold lingered in the air.

"What happened, dear? You can talk to me openly," Niaz Sikandar said, sipping his coffee with one leg crossed over the other.

"Uncle, Fateh has involved me in some tasks. He wants me to hand over my friend to him. He and his friends will use her. I don’t want my friend to be used by his associates," she pleaded.

"Hmm." He stood up and gestured for Malikah to follow him.

They went into the living room. Niaz closed the door behind them.

"So, what do you want from me?" He gave Malikah a deep look. A lump formed in her throat.

"Can you save her?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes. I can do anything. Sit down." Niaz Sikandar guided her to the sofa by her shoulders. Malikah felt uneasy, her heart racing. "But you will have to do something for me." Malikah watched as his hands moved around her face. "Tell me... will you do it?"

A knock came at the door. Malikah was jolted back to the present. She stood up in panic, the envelope and money falling to the floor.

"Who is it inside?" came Ibrahim's voice from outside.

"He's here? How did he get here? In Lahore?" Malikah wondered as she picked up the money. She quickly stuffed everything back into the envelope, threw it on the top shelf of the cabinet, and composed herself before unlocking the door.

"You? What are you doing? And why was the door closed?" Ibrahim entered and started asking questions one after another.

"I didn’t lock it; it must have happened by itself. I was just here to clean," she said, blinking rapidly.

Ibrahim looked around the room. Everything was in its place. His gaze landed on the USB lying next to the chair. He picked it up and glanced at the cabinet.

"Is this here? It must have fallen by mistake," he muttered, turning away.

"Oh no." Malikah cursed herself. The USB must have fallen from her sleeve when she was picking up the money. She hadn’t even noticed.

"Leave," Ibrahim told her and closed the glass door. However, Malikah could still see him. He was examining the same cabinet where the dusty envelope was placed.

Malikah’s heart sank. Childhood memories surfaced. She had only one picture of her father, and now, finding several photos with him dead filled her with an overwhelming sadness. The garden seemed desolate, and the birds had all flown away.

Then it so happened that our paths no longer aligned

He was proud, and I was proud too

It was evening. There were charpoys set up outside in the veranda, and a sofa was placed there as well, on which Aneesa had been sitting for a while. After the engagement ceremony, Aneesa was now sitting in front of the dressing table in her room, twirling the ring around her finger. Her dupatta was draped over her head, flowing down to the floor behind her. She smiled slightly, then took off the ring and placed it on the dressing table in front of her. Petals from the gajras were still falling. Kashmala entered the room and started spreading a bed on the floor.

"Why is this?" Aneesa asked, turning around.

"Junaid and Shahroz will sleep here tonight. There are some other guests staying over. Don’t come outside," Kashmala replied quickly, finishing her work and leaving the room.

Aneesa got up and went to perform ablution. When she returned, she saw that Junaid was sitting in the room. She picked up the white dupatta and started wrapping it around herself. The pinned dupatta was still on her head. She put on the second dupatta and began to pray. Junaid kept watching her.

Khizar and Batool also entered the room where Junaid was sitting.

"Sit," Khizar said courteously to Batool. She sat down at the corner of the bed. Aneesa finished her prayer and started supplicating.

Junaid and Khizar were talking in low voices. Aneesa adjusted her frock and stood up. She removed the white dupatta and stepped outside.

"Remove these pins." Adjusting the dupatta on her head, she stepped out into the veranda. There were a few scattered guests sitting outside.

"You go, I'll be right there," Mahenoor said and then came over to Aneesa. "Didn't I tell you not to come outside?" she said angrily, leading her back into the room.

"Why?" Aneesa freed her arm.

"People might cast an evil eye," Mahenoor replied, gritting her teeth. "I don't know when you'll learn."

"And this?" Mahnoor's gaze fell on the ring sitting on the table. "Is this how you leave things lying around?" She picked up the ring, placed it in its box, and put it in the cupboard.

Aneesa made a face and sat on the bed.

"Take off this dupatta of mine. I'm getting a headache," she said, feeling frustrated.

"You could've just told me, I would have done it," Junaid, overhearing, said as he got up and stood next to her. "Why did you even pin it?" Junaid asked her.

"I don't know. They said it's to fix the dupatta, but it's pulling my hair." She playfully punched Junaid. Junaid, smiling, gently started removing the pins.

"There's just one left, it's caught in the dupatta," he said, freeing the dupatta from her hair and removing the last pin.

Khizar's eyes were fixed on the two of them.

"Where's Anam?" Omar entered the room. Aneesa, holding the dupatta, was busy removing the pin with Junaid. She didn't pay attention to him.

"I don't know," Junaid answered casually. Omar stood there for a moment, then came closer to the two.

"You looked very beautiful today," Omar complimented her.

"Thank you," she replied without looking up. Once the pin was removed from the dupatta, she turned towards the cupboard.

"Why don't you talk to me?" Omar asked her directly in front of Junaid. Batool also started looking at Aneesa.

"I have pride now," she replied softly.

"Pride? In you?" Omar laughed. She sat on the bed and started using her phone. She smiled at the screen, perhaps at a message.

"I'm talking to you," Omar said as he sat down beside her.

"But I don't want to talk to you. Junaid, tell him to leave," she said.

"Omar... please," Junaid stepped forward. Omar looked at her with sadness and pain. Her lips still had lipstick on, and her nose was red from the cold. Her hair was loose, wrapped around her body. He walked out.

"Are you guys sleeping here?" Aneesa asked the three of them.

"Yes," Khizar pointed out.

"I didn't know you could get angry too," Khizar laughed.

"Oh, not yet," Junaid chuckled.

"Your wife is very beautiful," Aneesa remarked, looking at Batool.

"(Less than you)," Khizar smiled in response.

"Tonight we'll play games. We'll all be together. It'll be so much fun," Aneesa said, smiling at them.

"Yes. I brought a gift for you too," Junaid said enthusiastically.

"Then give it to me, quickly!" She got excited upon hearing about the gift.

Junaid opened the drawer and took out two long boxes wrapped in a packet.

"Are both of these for me?" she asked joyfully.

"No, one is for you. The other one was for Batool." Batool looked at Junaid in surprise. It was the first time someone from outside had thought of her.

She opened it and found a gold chain inside, with pearls hanging from it. Aneesa wore it around her neck and looked at herself in the mirror.

"I'm so happy," she said, admiring herself from different angles. Everything seemed complete, like a princess. But there was just one thing missing—a prince.

☆☆☆☆☆

Omar was lying in the darkened room. He was replaying all the scenes from today in his mind. In every scene where Aneesa was sitting with Tanveer, he saw himself sitting there. Aneesa coming in, holding Omar's hand, smiling, and then putting the ring on his delicate finger. Aneesa bowing her head and smiling, laughing out loud, looking at Omar with love—everything…

"Have you gone to sleep?" Anam pulled him back from his thoughts. She lay down beside him, applying lotion to her hands. Omar didn’t respond. He was awake.

"Omar? Have you really gone to sleep?" she asked again.

"Yes. What's the matter?" Omar asked with irritation.

"Okay. Go to sleep. I just wanted to ask when we’re going back?"

"I don’t know." He turned to the other side.

"Is there such a coldness, Omar?" Anam tried to turn him towards her by holding his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

"Please let me sleep. I’m not in the mood to argue. We can fight in the morning." He said flatly.

"Am I arguing?" she said with a slight shout.

"Yes. Because you’re insecure about Aneesa," he said bitterly.

"Why? Shouldn’t I be?" She sat up. "You’re my husband, but all your attention is on Aneesa. I despise her." She’s speaking so slowly, savoring every word. "Are you listening?" Anam pulled the blanket off him.

"Don’t start this now. I’m warning you," he turned his face away. Anam’s anger boiled. "If you know that you’re my wife, what’s the insecurity about? Huh? There’s nothing between her and me. Nothing at all. Did you hear that?"

Anam lay back down and wrapped herself in the blanket. There was still suspicion. There was still mistrust. Between them both.

Despite all kinds of destitution

When she came today, my home felt nice

The living room door was open. A news channel was playing on the screen mounted on the wall. The volume was somewhat low. A white cat stood in the middle of the stairs, wagging its tail. Then it descended the stairs, feeling a bit unfamiliar, and entered the living room, leaping onto the sofa.

"Oh God! How did this cat get inside?" Malikah muttered in annoyance when she saw it. The white cat was beautiful and fluffy, with blue eyes. Malikah liked it at first glance, but she knew that if Sultana Begum found out that a cat had entered the house, she would not only get rid of the cat but also throw her out.

"Qasim Uncle!" Malikah called out to Qasim. Qasim came in. "Please take this cat outside," she said, afraid that the cat might scratch her.

"This cat belongs to Fateh," Qasim informed her. Malikah looked at Qasim.

"Fateh? When did he get this cat?" she asked in surprise.

"When he came home last night, the cat was with him," Qasim explained.

"Fateh... is Fateh home?" she asked, stuttering.

"Yes, daughter. He arrived last night when everyone was asleep." Qasim delivered the information and left. Malikah's palms started to sweat. She unbuttoned her sweater and stepped outside. Sitting in the lawn, she kept her gaze fixed on the ground. She took a deep breath and then looked up to see Fateh standing by the window, looking at her. She stared back at him. He was standing on the second floor of the mansion, where Malikah appeared small from that height. Initially, she felt suffocated, but now the mansion seemed appealing. A faint smile began to spread on her lips. She continued to look at the window.

Fateh turned around to look behind him, perhaps someone had entered his room. He stepped away from the window. Malikah wanted to keep looking at him, but she forgot that the place where he was standing was very high up, far beyond her reach. Not only could she not reach it, but she couldn’t even peer into it.

She then returned to the quarters. Hajra was taking clothes out of a trunk. Malikah lay down across the width of the bed and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Amma, do you know Fateh has arrived?" She lay down, propping her head up on her elbow.

"Yes, he came last night. You were asleep," Hajra replied as she took out clothes and then went to the bathroom to bathe.

"You knew, so why didn't you tell me?" Malikah expressed her annoyance but then shook her head dismissively.

"When he comes, a strange, enchanting fragrance spreads throughout the mansion. That scent is reaching here too." She took a deep breath in.

Iftikhar knocked on the door.

"Ibrahim Sahib is calling for you." This message was for Hajra, but Malikah got up and entered the mansion.

She walked to Sultana Begum's bedroom and stopped. She opened the door to find Ibrahim standing there, holding some items in his hand.

"You? I called for Hajra," Ibrahim said, placing the items on the bed.

"Yes, but my mother is unwell," Malikah used her mother's illness as an excuse.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing, just the cold... Tell me what the task is... I’ll do it." She tucked her hair behind her ear and stepped forward.

"I brought something for you," Ibrahim said, presenting the shopping bags on the bed in front of her.

(‘Kafarah... Kafarah... Kafarah’) Malikah didn’t reach out to take them.

"I thought you might need these," Ibrahim smiled.

(I needed it when I was six, when my father was killed. If he were here today, I wouldn’t be here.) It all came back to her.

"Take them," Ibrahim urged.

"No, Uncle, I don’t need them." This was the first time. Before this, Ibrahim often sent her necessities through her mother, and they were never refused or returned. But now, with her sudden refusal, he was taken aback.

"What happened?"

Just then, Fateh entered from behind. Ibrahim raised his eyebrows as soon as he saw him.

"Where is Mom?" Fateh asked Ibrahim.

"Can't you see your father standing right in front of you?" Ibrahim replied bitterly.

"People who have fallen out of the heart, even if they sit on a throne made of diamonds, are still invisible," Fateh said as he rolled up his sleeves and turned towards Malikah.

"Take this," Fateh pointed to the shopping bags, and Malikah picked them up and walked out with heavy steps. Fateh, walking briskly behind her, also stepped out and passed by her. Malikah was heading towards Fateh’s room. She entered the room and shut the door. He was sitting on the sofa, putting on his shoes.

"Come in, Malikah. Did you need something?" He looked up at her once and then bent back down.

Malikah stood still, holding the shopping bags in her hand like a statue. Fateh stood up, picked up his mobile from the center table, and put it in his pocket. Then he put on his jacket and patted it down.

"Car keys," he muttered, looking around. He was about to leave. It was such a simple thing, yet tears welled up in Malikah’s eyes. The shopping bags slipped from her hands. She quickly took a few steps forward and threw her arms around Fateh, clinging to him, and started crying loudly like a child. Fateh stood still, shocked.

"What happened?" He patted her hair. She kept crying, sobbing uncontrollably. Malikah’s grip on his jacket tightened. She wanted this closeness. She tried to speak, but the knot of tears around her throat tightened.

"Tell me, what happened? Did Dad say something?" he asked, holding her close, but there was no answer. How could she complain about everything?

"Please don’t go outside," she barely managed to say.

Fateh gently separated her from himself, sat her down on the sofa, and handed her a glass of water. He then grabbed the tissue box from the bedside table and offered her a tissue.

"Here, wipe your nose and eyes." He laughed. "Was that all? You could have just told me, and I would have stayed. No need to cry."

Malikah wiped her tears with the tissue. She smiled at him, but then the tears started falling again.

"Okay, I'm staying here. But don’t cry, or else I’ll leave." He was sitting across from her at the table, holding her hand. She quieted down.

"Anything else?" Fateh asked, looking into her eyes. Malikah shook her head.

"When you're home, everything feels good. After you leave… this mansion doesn’t feel right," she said in a trembling voice.

"Really? Is that why you agree to do all my work?"

"Yes. I’ll do everything now. Just don’t go anywhere," Malikah said, leaning forward to rest her head on his shoulder.

"When?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Tomorrow." She closed her eyes.

"I’m here; I’m not going anywhere." He smiled too and stood up, picking up the shopping bags and handing them to Malikah. She took the bags and left. 

Fateh started searching for the car key again. He patted down the pocket of his pants and found the key there. He sat on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, and started making a call. "The plan is tomorrow night, everyone has to come..." he was saying to someone. And much more. In detail.

We'll never break anyone's heart's hope,

The memory of enduring cruelty will remain

Junaid parked the car in front of Mahenoor's house. Samaira, Aneesa, and Mahenoor were with him. From the other direction, another car pulled up in front. It was Kabeer, who had come on leave. Junaid opened the main gate and drove the car inside. Both cars entered the porch one after the other.

The five of them entered the house together. As soon as Junaid came in, he headed towards his room. Samaira and Aneesa also went to their room. Mahenoor stood with Kabeer in front of the lounge.

"Is Shayan there?" Kabeer asked, holding her close.

"Yes... he's with Kashmala." They walked to their room and closed the door.

Samaira went to the kitchen, filled four glasses of water, and placed them on a tray. She took one glass for herself and drank it while standing there.

Aneesa was sitting in her room, talking to Malikah on the phone. Samaira gave her a glass of water and left.

"I’ll see... I’m not sure if Mahenoor will allow it," Aneesa was saying.

"The rest of the classmates will be there too. It's a lot of fun," Malikah was trying to convince her to come to the nightclub. Fateh was sitting in front of her, listening to their conversation on the speakerphone.

"I don't know, I've never been to parties," she said, sipping her water.

"That's exactly why I'm saying it. If you don’t go to parties, how will you experience a new world? Parties have their own world." She used the word "parties" instead of "nightclub," for the sake of decency.

"But who has parties at night?" Aneesa pleaded; she didn't want to go out at night.

Malikah bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

"Now?" She signaled to Fateh.

"Tell her that everyone will be there, and you’ll be there too," Fateh whispered.

"Aneesa, I’ll be there too, and so will everyone else," Malikah repeated Fateh's words. "Please, you must come. It will be so much fun."

"Okay, I’ll try," Aneesa said, placing the glass on the table and walking out of the room.

"No trying. She 'will' come," Fateh whispered in Malikah's ear again.

"You're coming, or I'll be upset, and this friendship will be over," Malikah used her last resort.

"Okay, please, don’t do that. I’ll come. Happy now?" she laughed, and a smile spread on the other side too.

"Alright, I’ll hang up now. See you tonight at the party," Malikah ended the call.

"Now promise me, you will not harm him," Malikah quickly looked at Fateh. Fateh placed his hand on hers.  

"Promise." He smiled immediately.  

Two hours later

Aneesa stepped out, all dressed up. Samaira gave her a sharp look.

"Did you get ready to go shopping?" Samaira asked, eyeing her from head to toe.

"No, I’m going to a party. My friends will be there too," she turned a singular "friend" into multiple "friends."

"But we came for shopping, didn't we?" Samaira reminded her.

"Yeah, you go with Mahenoor and Kabeer Bhai. My friend should be here to pick me up any minute," she quickly stepped outside.

Standing outside the house, she waited for Malikah. A car pulled up in front of her. Malikah was sitting in the back seat. Aneesa opened the car door and sat next to her. Malikah looked at her, noticing she was wearing a long orange frock with a chiffon dupatta covering her head. Malikah herself was wearing a T-shirt and jeans with a jacket over it. Both of them had their hair down.

"What’s this?" Malikah pointed to her hand.

"It might be cold on the way back,... so I thought I’d bring a shawl," she said with an innocent smile.

"Oh, and you don't use lipstick?" Malikah asked, examining every feature of her face, which had no traces of makeup, yet she still looked captivating.

"No, I don’t use it," she replied, sitting up straight.

A short while later, the car stopped outside the club. It was in inner Lahore, and there was a crowd outside.

"Get out," Malikah said, smiling as she got out of the car and gestured for her to do the same. She stepped out, wrapping the shawl around herself.

"Aneesa, leave the shawl in the car," Malikah said, taking the shawl and bag from her hand and placing it back in the car. Aneesa began looking around, observing the people surrounding her. Laughter echoed in the air, and there was a crowd everywhere. Red lights were shining from inside the club. Malikah adjusted her shirt and took Aneesa's hand, leading her forward. A slight breeze caused Aneesa's chiffon dupatta to slip from her head.

"Malikah... something doesn't feel right. Let’s go back," Aneesa tried to pull her hand away.

"Nothing will happen. I'm here, right?" Malikah reassured her as they both entered the club. The first step led to hell, and then the second one. Aneesa adjusted her dupatta on her head. Inside, the loud music was deafening.

"What do we do now?" Aneesa asked loudly, her voice barely audible over the music.

"You sit on the sofa; I'll get some juice," Malikah said, seating her on a sofa against the wall, then disappearing into the crowd.

In front of her, boys and girls were standing and dancing. Aneesa sat there, unaware of what was about to happen to her. Malikah was nowhere to be seen when suddenly, some boys came and sat next to her.

"Want some juice?" one of them asked, spreading his arm around her.

"Move away," she said, her eyes wide with fear as she looked at them. Something felt terribly wrong. Where was Malikah?

"Drink it. Come on, drink." One of the boys forcibly pressed the glass against her lips, but she pushed his hand away and stood up. All the alcohol spilled on the boy. She quickly moved away and stood in a corner. She tried to cover her face with her dupatta. Her heart was pounding so fast that it felt like it might burst out of her chest at any moment. She looked around for Malikah, but she was nowhere to be seen. In front of her, she saw a familiar woman—it was Khushboo. The same boy was with her who had met her outside the Islamic Book Center. From there, she stood and watched the unfamiliar faces around her.

Malikah was sitting with Fateh, drinking juice. He was on the sofa, drinking alcohol. His friends were sitting beside him.

"Take her to the room; I'll come in a little while," he said. Then he saw Khushboo approaching him. He stood up, hugged her, and sat back down.

"You go," Fateh told Malikah to leave.

Aneesa was still standing there, desperately looking for Malikah. Suddenly, someone put a hand on her shoulder. She turned around in fear and saw that it was Malikah.

"Where did you go?" Aneesa instinctively hugged her. Malikah could feel how fast her heart was beating. She was also trembling. For a moment, she thought about stopping, but then...

"Come on, let's go to the room," she said with a smile, leading her upstairs to a room in the club.

"You sit here, I'll go get my friend," Malikah said as she was about to leave again.

"No," Aneesa said, holding her hand.

"No one comes here. In closed rooms, no one comes, and no one knows what’s happening inside," Malikah said in a bewitching voice.

"What do you mean?" Aneesa looked at her with teary eyes.

"It means there will be three of us, and I'll be back soon." Malikah pulled her hand away and left the room.

Standing at the exit door of the club, she sent a text message: "Second floor... Room number seven." Her eyes were fixed on room number seven on the second floor as she waited for someone to go inside.

Aneesa, pacing inside the room, eventually came to the door. She tried to open it, but it was locked. The more she turned the handle, the more frightened she became.

"What has happened to me?" She began to realize the situation, but it was too late. "My purse... my shawl... everything is in the car..." She stepped back in panic.

"Just save me this once. Just this once," she started crying. Her dupatta fell to the floor. She quickly picked it up, wrapped it around her head, and sank to the ground next to the bed.

"I swear, I'll never come back. It was a mistake," she whispered, her heart crying out, "Really? No, no, it’s a sin. Just save me this once. Oh Allah, I beg You, as my Lord, please save me." She bowed her head to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. She felt like her life was about to end.

"What have you done, Malikah? You were my true friend. Please save me!"

She screamed upwards, "Ahhhhhhh!" But who was there to hear her? Suddenly, she saw what she had forgotten when she came here—God.

She got up, tears streaming down her face, and looked around the room. She shattered the dressing mirror and picked up a shard of glass. In her despair, she saw only one way out—suicide. She raised her wrist, placing the glass against it. Her mind began to go numb. She walked around holding a piece of glass. Shahzeb was standing outside the bathroom door.

"You?" He was startled.

"Shahzeb? (It means there might be more vagabonds too)" she thought. Shahzeb started approaching her.

"Stop." Aneesa held the glass forward.

"How foolish you are. Do you think Tanveer will marry you? He’ll use you and throw you away. Into the trash bin." Shahzeb laughed loudly and pointed to the trash bin in the corner of the room.

"I said stop coming closer." Seeing Shahzeb’s advancing steps, she yelled and backed up against the wall.

"Make a deal with me. Tanveer is here too. And everyone else. I won’t tell anyone anything. This secret will remain buried in this room." He moved closer. Aneesa ran the glass over his neck. He felt the warm blood flowing from his neck down to his stomach. She had made a deep cut. Throwing the glass away, she stared at her hands. Shahzeb fell to the ground.

"I didn’t kill him." The floor started turning red with blood. 

Gasping for breath she rushed to the window. It was a sliding window, and when she opened it, she saw nothing but darkness below. A few faint lights flickered far below. If she fell, she would die. But her only hope now was to escape from the second floor.

She grabbed the bedsheet and tied one end tightly to her dupatta.

On the other side, Fateh, along with his friends, got up and started climbing the stairs. Malikah saw him ascending the stairs, and her heart began to scream. Today, she wanted to fall at Fateh's feet. She watched him with tearful eyes until he reached the door of the room. He was now unlocking the door with the key. Four boys stood leaning against the wall. He turned the handle, and the door opened. Malikah quickly closed her eyes in agony and walked out crying.

At that same moment, Aneesa was descending, using her dupatta as a rope. When she saw that the distance between her and the ground was short enough, she closed her eyes and jumped. She stood up and yanked her dupatta free. On the third try, the dupatta detached from the bedsheet and was now in her hands. She began to cry and kept running.

Fateh looked around the room and noticed the bedsheet tied to the window. He clenched his fists in frustration and sat on the floor, crying out. The broken glass began to pierce his knees.His four friends were sitting on the floor with Shahzeb's body. The blood was still fresh.

"Malikaaaa!" he screamed. "She ran away. That devilish girl ran away."

Aneesa, wrapping her dupatta around herself, was standing on the street, trying to hail an auto. She covered her mouth with her dupatta. The night was cold and dark. She didn’t even have her phone, nor a shawl to protect herself from the cold. A taxi appeared and stopped in front of her.

"Where do you want to go?" The taxi was being driven by a woman. As soon as Aneesa saw her, she started crying again.

"I want to go home. Please take me home," she said through her tears.

"Where is your home?" the woman asked with a laugh. Aneesa quickly got into the taxi.

"Half an hour away from Ravi," she responded.

"What kind of address is that?" The woman was surprised. Nevertheless, she drove the taxi out of the city. She figured out that Aneesa’s home must be somewhere at the outskirts of the city.

"I don’t know the streets of Lahore," Aneesa said as she calmed down. "I only remember Ravi."

"Do you remember the house number?" The woman looked at Aneesa through the rearview mirror. Aneesa was sitting with her face covered by the dupatta, her eyes red from crying.

“Yes, my brother’s,” she said in a voice so soft that even she could barely hear herself.

“Okay, call him and tell him to come and pick you up. I’ll drop you near Ravi,” the woman said, handing her the phone. In that moment, the woman seemed like an angel to Aneesa.

“But what will I tell my brother? That I went to sell myself in the market? Or that my body was almost sold?” she thought as she dialed the number. The phone started ringing on the other end.

“Hello.” Junaid's voice echoed in her ears. She covered her mouth and began to cry.

“Hello? Who is this? Aneesa?” Junaid asked again.

“Bhai,” she sobbed.

“Where are you? Why weren’t you answering? I’ve been calling for so long. Mahenoor and Samaira waited for you and then left for shopping with Kabeer.” Junaid began to recount his story from the other side.

“Junaid, I... I got lost. Please find me,” she lied once again, her lips trembling.

“Where are you? I’m coming,” Junaid said, his voice filled with worry.

“We’re heading towards Ravi,” the woman informed him. “You should come too. You’ll find your sister there.”

“Okay, okay.” Junaid hurriedly ran out and got into his car. The biting cold was at its peak.

What should have taken half an hour, Junaid covered in twenty minutes, arriving at the banks of Ravi. After waiting for a while, a car finally pulled up. Aneesa opened the door and ran towards Junaid, hugging him tightly.

“Brother...”

"What happened?" Junaid asked as he looked at her. Her appearance was disheveled—tangled hair, a confused expression, and empty hands.

The cold wind bit at them before moving on, leaving a chill. Junaid wrapped his jacket around her and helped her into the car.

"Thanks for taking care of my sister," Junaid said, handing money to the woman in the taxi before getting back into his car.

"What happened? Tell me," Junaid asked as he drove the car toward their home. Aneesa looked at Junaid, then felt her lips start to move.

A cry will have trembled in the stone

A spark will have shivered in the flower

The cold morning wrapped in chill began with the call to prayer. Aneesa opened her eyes, wrapped in a blanket. She started staring at the ceiling of the room. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep. On the bed next to her, Samaira was lying asleep. Beyond her were Kashmala, Batool, and then Mahenoor. The sweet sound of the Fajr call to prayer could be clearly heard in the distance. Junaid was standing on the prayer mat with his hands folded, offering prayer. To his left stood Khizar.

She got up and went to the bathroom to perform ablution. She rolled up her sleeves. Then she remembered, today was Junaid's nikah. What happened last night? Would he be alive, or would he be dead by now? The news of Shahzeb's murder must have reached his family by now. Perhaps the body would have arrived by now. Shahzeb's house was close to theirs, but she hadn't heard any sounds of mourning yet.

"Maybe father will conduct Junaid's nikah simply." She thought as she performed ablution, letting water flow over her elbows.

"The police must be investigating. No one must have seen me. I wasn't even there." She came out and raised her index finger, reciting the Kalima.

"Ash-hadu an la ilaha ill-Allahu wahdahu la sharika lahu, wa ash hadu anna Muhammadan 'abduhu wa Rasuluhu"

"Will Allah forgive me? I only defended myself. Surely, I have the right to defend myself. Why would I put my life at risk? And why should I let someone else destroy my life? Shahzeb had the same choice... He could have fought me, protected himself... and maybe even survived. But he wasn't smart enough, so he didn't. I did it for my survival."

She spread out the prayer mat, placed both hands on her chest, and began to pray.

Khizar and Junaid had finished their prayers and were leaving. Aneesa continued to pray, standing in the bowing position. Tears fell between her feet. She was sobbing.

"I am a murderer... of all humanity." She began to cry. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound of her sobs. She was crying while in the prostration position.

"Aneesa..." Junaid lifted her by the shoulder. "Come on, go to sleep. Get some rest." Junaid supported her as he led her to the bed and took out some medicine from the drawer. He placed a tablet in her mouth, and she drank water.

"Bhai, you won’t tell anyone, will you? If Father finds out, he'll throw me out of the house. The police will arrest me. I'm scared of going to jail." She was speaking in a low voice. Her voice grew even fainter as drowsiness overtook her due to the medicine, and she fell asleep while talking.

Junaid kept patting her head and then got up and left the room.

When she woke up again, she saw that everything had changed. It was 1:30 PM. There was a strange chaos in the house. Her heart trembled. Mahenoor, Samaira, and Kashmala were sitting around her.

"What’s happening?" she asked as she sat up.

"Shahzeb is dead," Kashmala informed her.

"And Junaid's wedding? Won’t it happen?" Aneesa asked worriedly.

"No, the nikah will be held simply in the evening. Only family members will be present," Mahenoor smiled faintly.

"So, will we get ready?" She asked the three of them, sitting there sadly.

"Yes," Kashmala replied in a tired tone.

"Where did you go last night?" Mahenoor finally asked, holding back.

The scene from last night flashed before her eyes.

"Mahenoor, please... this isn't the time. She’s mentally disturbed," Kashmala interrupted.

"I killed Shahzeb. I slit his throat with a sharp piece of glass," Aneesa confessed, her eyes welling up with tears as she spoke.

“Please,” Kashmala hugged her. “Don’t say anything. If anyone asks, you have to say you were in Mianwali. At the time this happened, you were in Mianwali... and we will all be your witnesses.” Kashmala covered for her.

Is it easy to hide a sin? Does the guilt inside ever leave you? Can the accusations be escaped? Can the grief and sorrow ever end?

“Don’t cry now.” Samaira also stepped forward to comfort her. “We’ll fix everything together.”

“Everything will be fine now.”

Look, the sleepless stars of pain have drowned,

Now the destiny of impatient eyes will shine.

The time for Zuhr prayer was passing. Due to the overcast sky, the passage of time was barely noticeable. After Friday prayers, Shahzeb had been laid to rest. Now, it was time for Junaid's wedding. Junaid sat with Shahroz, his head bowed. He was dressed in a white shalwar kameez with a golden-colored waistcoat on top. Beside them, the marriage officiant was writing something on the marriage contract. On the long sofa in front of them sat Aneesa, Samaira, Kashmala, and Mahenoor. Batool, Khizar, Ayan, and Kabeer were seated on a charpoy placed next to the sofa. Naheed was sitting with  Taiyaba( Madiha's aunt). They were all present at Madiha's house, except for Zakariya.

"Where is the girl's father?" the maulvi asked, looking up.

"The girl is an orphan, her parents have passed away," Madiha's uncle, Mehr, responded.

"Alright, then you come here and sign," the maulvi said, handing over the marriage contract. And then the marriage ceremony began.

"Junaid Khan, son of Zakariya Khan, your marriage is being arranged with Madiha Ali, daughter of Ali Ahmed, with a dowry of ten lakh in current currency. Do you accept this marriage?" the maulvi asked for Junaid's consent.

"I accept," he replied.

And it was repeated three times. 

Then the marriage contract was placed before Junaid. One by one, Junaid signed the documents.

Madiha was sitting inside the room, dressed as a bride. She was wearing a red outfit. Her neck and wrists were adorned with jewelry. Her hair was tied in a bun with a dupatta pinned to it. She had applied deep red lipstick. Anxiously, she was looking towards the door. Sahira was standing beside her. In one corner of the room, two packed bags containing her belongings were lying.

Taiyaba and Mehr Ali entered the room. Mehr Ali placed the marriage contract in front of her and handed her a pen. Madiha bent down and started signing. The pages were turned, and she continued signing.

"Now try not to come to this house. There's nothing left here for you," Taiyaba said bitterly. Madiha sat there, saddened. Sahira sensed the bitterness in her tone but said nothing, thinking she had no right to speak.

Mehr Ali took the marriage contract and stepped outside.

“It’s good that this burden is finally lifted,” Taiyaba said to Mehr as she stood outside.

“Yes, it’s a relief. Madiha was like a curse. It's good she’s leaving. Otherwise, if something had gone wrong in the future, what would people have said?” Both husband and wife expressed their gratitude and went outside. Everyone raised their hands in prayer.

Aneesa, Samaira, and Batool went to Madiha, brought her outside, and seated her next to Junaid. Madiha sat there with a somber expression on her face.

“I’ll take a picture, so everyone stand behind,” Aneesa said as she got up and picked up the camera.

Everyone arranged themselves and stood behind. A few people sat down.

“Smile…” Aneesa gestured to Madiha, who then smiled, and Aneesa captured everyone’s smiling faces in the picture.

Setting the camera on the stand, she adjusted the timer and sat down next to Junaid’s knee. Another smiling photo was captured.

As the Asr prayer time approached, they brought Madiha to their home. They took her to Junaid’s room and seated her on the bed. New furniture had been set up in the room. Everything was new. Samaira dragged the two bags into the room and placed them next to the wardrobe.

Aneesa leaned on her elbow in front of Madiha, watching her and talking. Madiha blushed and smiled shyly. Kashmala brought food on a tray.

“Move aside, let her eat,” Kashmala said, placing the food in front of Madiha and sitting down to feed her.

“No, I’ll eat by myself,” Madiha said shyly, taking a bite from Kashmala’s hand.

“Take off your nose ring. You can put it back on later,” Samaira, who was leaning against the wall, said as she observed Madiha.

"Sahira was right; these sisters were incredibly caring", Madiha thought to herself as she ate. Aneesa, sitting behind Madiha, peeked over her shoulder to look at Kashmala and then quickly hid.

"Go to the room. We’ll come in a little while," Mahenoor said as she entered the room, asking Aneesa to leave. "You’re always hanging around with the elders." Aneesa silently got up and left. Outside, in the veranda, Junaid was sitting, talking to someone on the phone. Seeing Aneesa, he stood up and walked over to her.

"Listen... when someone asks where you were last night, you have to say Mianwali, and stick to it," Junaid said softly. Aneesa nodded in agreement. "Now go." He gave a slight smile and headed towards his room.

She went to her room and lay down, lost in thought.

"The police are investigating," Kashmala said in a tired tone, sitting down next to her.

"Will my name come up in all this?" Aneesa sat up, grabbing Kashmala’s arm.

"Of course not. And even if it does, I’ll protect you. I have plenty of ways," Kashmala exhaled a cold breath into the air.

"Really? Is that possible?" Aneesa asked, surprised.

"Yes, everything is possible," Kashmala replied with a smile. "Junaid and I will set everything right. Till that, you have to behave normally."

Aneesa smiled back, looking at Kashmala with hope.

There is no end to wealth here,

Though a thousand robbers lie in wait.

The nightclub was now deserted. Outside, police sirens wailed. Inside, room number seven still had bloodstains on the floor, though they had dried up. Shards of glass were scattered everywhere. Forensic lab personnel were collecting samples of the blood and glass. Behram stood in the same room, giving instructions to a police officer. He was leading the case. A line had been drawn on the floor to mark where the blood had spread, and a "Do Not Cross" tape was in place. Behram continued to survey the room. There was a camera in the corner. He had already come to the window several times and looked down. The bed sheet was still hanging out of the window, ending just as the first floor began.

“If someone jumped from here, they would have definitely broken a bone,” he thought, observing the hanging sheet and the considerable distance to the ground. He turned back and stood by the dressing table, looking at the window from there.

"Sir..." a police officer entered the room. "Sir, here’s the CCTV footage." He handed Behram a tablet. Behram began playing the video.

"You can go," Behram said as he sat on the bed and started watching the footage. The forensic team finished their work and stood up.

"Sir, I'll send you the report."

"Okay," Behram nodded. The three men left the room. At that moment, Furqan entered and stood beside Behram to watch the footage with him.

He watched everything from the beginning—who was coming in, who was leaving... everything. The footage from the bar played. Boys and girls were coming up to the bar counter and taking several glasses of alcohol. In between, a girl appeared on the screen. She gestured for two drinks. The bartender handed her two glasses. She turned around.

Behram rewound the footage and paused it on the girl. He zoomed in. Was that Malikah? Or were his eyes deceiving him?

Behram looked up at Furqan.

"That was Malikah, right? Sultana Begum's maid?" Furqan's words pained Behram, but he continued to play the footage.

Next, he turned on the footage from Room 7. For a long time, nothing happened, but then a boy entered the room. Bahram glanced at the timestamp on the footage.

09:38 p.m.

The boy, unbuttoning his shirt, walked into the washroom. It was Shahzeb. After that, there was no movement for a while. Then, a woman entered five minutes later.

09:44 p.m.

She was an older woman, draped in a long sari. After entering the room, she sprayed something and then left.

09:53 p.m.

Then, two girls entered the room. One was wearing an orange frock, and the other had a jacket over a t-shirt. They stood at the door, talking. Behram zoomed in on their faces. He could hardly believe his eyes. The girl in orange seemed to be pleading with the other one. The girl in the jacket said something and then left the room, closing the door behind her. Now the girl in orange was alone, nervously pacing the room, clutching her chest. She suddenly rushed to the door and started turning the handle frantically.

"Maybe it's locked," Furqan muttered.

"It's not just locked; it was locked on purpose," Behram kept his eyes fixed on the footage. "Just keep watching."

Out of fear, she fell to the floor, crying and prostrating. She screamed and cried, then shattered the dressing mirror and picked up a shard of glass.

"Is she going to commit suicide? The lab found two blood samples. Could the second one be hers? But where's her body?" Furqan started getting confused.

10:11 p.m.

The washroom door opened, and she turned around. She walked toward him. They seemed to know each other. There was a conversation between them, but it was heated. The boy advanced toward her, while the girl, pressing the glass shard against her, backed against the wall, trying to keep him from approaching.

Furqan watched the footage, continuously tapping his foot and fidgeting with his fingers, tense and anxious about what would happen next.

10:14 p.m.

Suddenly, the girl slashed the glass shard across the boy’s neck. Furqan’s mouth dropped open in shock.

"I thought the killer would be a man, but it turned out to be the girl," Furqan remarked, almost impressed.

The boy clutched his neck, collapsing slowly to the floor. The girl, completely ignoring his suffering, quickly grabbed the bedsheet, unconcerned that he was writhing in pain. Gradually, his body stilled as life slipped away from him.

Behram watched as she began tying her dupatta and the bedsheet together, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Often, behind a beautiful and innocent face lies a dangerous and terrifying criminal," Behram said as he stood up and walked out.

"So, what will we do now? How will we catch her?" Furqan asked, walking alongside him.

"Make sure the rest of the club’s footage is erased, but keep this one with me. And don’t mention this footage to anyone yet," Behram ordered as he walked ahead. Furqan, with no choice but to comply, followed the orders.

Furqan went to the control room to carry out the instructions.

You are not a reality, you are a longing

The wealth that comes in dreams

Junaid entered the room, closed the door, and stepped inside. It was freezing cold outside, but the warmth from the heater inside was comforting. The room was filled with a beautiful fragrance that felt like a dream come true. Madiha, dressed as a bride, was sitting on the bed adorned in her bridal attire. Junaid smiled as he looked at her. He took off his waistcoat, placed it on the corner of the bed, and sat down in front of her. She sat with her head lowered, her eyes fixed on her hands.

"Assalam Alaikum," Junaid leaned forward. She was smiling nervously, biting her lip.

"Wa alaykum Assalam," she replied shyly, still looking a bit confused.

"How are you?" Junaid asked next.

"Fine," she responded with a single word.

"Masha'Allah," Junaid said, kissing her forehead. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes," she nodded, still sitting with her head down.

Junaid gently lifted her chin, recited Surah An-Nas, and blew it over her face.

"Madiha..." Junaid lovingly called her name. Madiha looked up at him briefly and then lowered her gaze again. Junaid took out a box from the drawer, opened it, and showed it to Madiha. It contained a diamond bracelet. Junaid adorned her wrist with the bracelet and then kissed her wrist.

"Will you change, or will you sleep like this?" Junaid asked her.

"I will," she replied. As Junaid watched her, his eyes roamed over her face. He still couldn't believe that Madiha was now his wife. He was extremely happy. She sat there, anxiously twisting her hands together.

"Enough," Junaid said, taking both her hands in his, which were very cold. "Are you feeling cold?" he asked, rubbing her icy hands.

"Umm, yes."

"Alright, you change, then we’ll go to sleep." He stood up. Madiha got down from the bed, put on her shoes, and walked over to her bag, which was beside the wardrobe, and began taking out her clothes.

"I don’t know why you're still feeling cold, even though the heater is on," Junaid said as he reached out to check the heater in the room. Warm air was coming out; the heater was on. He then stood next to Madiha.

"We'll set these in the wardrobe in the morning," Junaid said, pointing to her clothes, and moved to stand by the dressing table behind her.

Madiha began removing her jewelry. Junaid kept smiling as he watched her in the mirror. After removing her nose ring and headpiece, she started taking off her bangles, and then she took off her dupatta and spread it across her chest. She removed the necklace from her neck and placed it on the table. As she removed the pins from her hair, her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. She picked up her clothes and went into the washroom.

When she came out after changing, Junaid was lying on the bed. She looked captivating even in simple attire.

"May you always stay protected from the evil eye," Junaid chuckled. Madiha came and lay down on the other side of the bed. They turned towards each other. Junaid adjusted the blanket over both of them.

He placed his cold hand on Madiha’s cheek, moved closer, and kissed her.

"I love you," he said, leaning back. "My life feels complete today." He was looking into her eyes as he spoke. "Do you think it was easy to have you? I waited for you." Junaid tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear with his fingers and kissed her lips.

"I waited too," Madiha replied. "Nothing comes without waiting. And when it does, it's wrapped in fragrance, incredibly beautiful—just like 'you'." She kissed his hand. "Now we'll always be together. We'll have a beautiful daughter. We will be complete." She spoke with a smile, her eyes moist.

"A daughter?" Junaid asked lovingly. "We'll do everything you've dreamed of."

"Yes. And our daughter, who will be our reflection, the most beautiful of all." She continued, her voice filled with love. "And I'll choose her name."

"You'll choose the name? Which one?"

"I won't tell you now. I'll write it in a letter. You can read it yourself." Junaid laughed at her words.

"We don't even have a daughter yet, who will you write a letter to?"

"When she grows up, she’ll read my letter. I'll write it and keep it safe, then give it to her later. Junaid, is it possible that we'll have a daughter?"

"Yes, why not? She'll be just like you—beautiful and innocent," Junaid said, touching her face. "But not shy." And then Madiha laughed.

"I'm not shy, Junaid," she said, blushing.

"Oh really? So, my eyes could be deceiving me?" Junaid said teasingly. At this, Madiha rested her head on his chest and lay down. She was blushing. Junaid smiled and held her close.

"The relationship is so beautiful, and this feeling... I'm loving this feeling," Madiha heard Junaid's words.

Seeing my face turn into yours in the mirror,

Mocks me like the magic of the night.

He came home at ten o'clock on that cold night. Getting out of the car, he headed straight for his room. The house servant, Iftikhar, was still awake.

"Send Malikah to my room," he said to Iftikhar, who was about to go to bed.

"At this hour? Is everything alright, sir?" Iftikhar asked nervously.

"Yes, everything is fine," he replied as he climbed the stairs to his room. He was still wearing the same suit from the morning. He changed and sat down on the sofa. Malikah also entered the room.

"You called, Behram?" she said, standing behind the sofa in the room. Behram, with his head in his hands, had been waiting for her.

"Come and stand in front of me," Behram said in a tired tone, asking her to come forward. She took slow steps and stood in front of him. Behram looked up at her.

"I'm going to ask you something, and you have to tell me the truth. If you lie, there will be no one worse than me," Behram warned her, looking into her eyes.

"What is it, Behram?" Malikah asked softly. She was standing there, wrapped in a shawl, her hair loose.

"Did you go to the club?" Behram asked.

And then Malikah's heart began to race. She just stood there, looking at Behram.

"Did you go to the club?" Behram asked again, raising his voice and standing up. Malikah's body trembled. The sound was muffled in the soundproof room.

"I... I didn't want to go," she began to explain.

"Did you go to the club? Yes or no? Answer me, yes or no?" he roared.

"Y... Yes. Yes," Malikah said, closing her eyes in fear, her voice trembling.

"Now tell me, why did you go?" Behram sat down again and asked another question.

"I had work there, that's why."

"I hate lies. If you lie to me again, no one will ever find your body," Behram said, pulling a pistol from his belt and placing it on the table in front of him.

"I took Aneesa there, then I came back. I don't know where she went missing," she began to cry.

"She went missing? Where?" Behram asked in surprise.

"I don't know."

"Was she a little baby drinking milk that she just went missing?" Behram asked angrily.

"Behram, believe me, I'm telling the truth," Malikah pleaded.

"Where did she go missing? Room number seven?" Behram's words left Malikah speechless. She felt as if she had been stripped naked in a crowded market.

"Behram, you..."

"Yes, I know," he interrupted, standing up and delivering a powerful slap across Malikah's face. She stumbled and fell onto the single sofa.

"Get lost," he growled. Malikah got up, crying, and left the room.

Behram closed his eyes in pain. He picked up the tablet and walked towards the cupboard. He opened the safe, entered the code, and placed the tablet inside.

He picked up a hand cream from the dressing table, rubbed it on his hands, and looked at his face in the mirror. Another reflection appeared beside his own—it was Samaira's. He reached out and touched Samaira's reflection. The reflection smiled.

"Now, the real fun begins," he smiled at it. "When you’re here with me... Burhan will be out. And Junaid... I'll personally send him to hell." He laughed. "We’ll be a family... Samaira and I... everything will go according to plan."

He lay down on the bed, looking around the room with empty eyes. In the dim light, he could see everything clearly. He turned over and, covering himself with the blanket, fell into a peaceful sleep.

Who knows why the fast wind is lost in thought  

After driving the slumbering birds from the trees

The sun, wrapped in fog, appeared reddish in the sky. Dust was scattered everywhere. Smog had engulfed the surroundings. Junaid was getting ready, standing in the room. As he opened the door, Aneesa and Samaira came inside. Samaira was holding a tray with breakfast.

"Where is Madiha?" Aneesa asked, noticing that she wasn't in the room.

"She’s taking a shower," Junaid smiled and wrinkled his nose. He seemed to be catching a cold.

"Oh brother, it seems you've caught a chill," Samaira said, stirring a herbal remedy into the tea, and handed the cup to Junaid.

"Thank you," Junaid said, taking the cup of tea and sitting on the sofa. "How are you feeling now?" Junaid asked, smiling at Aneesa.

"I'm fine."

"Bhai, when you come back from your honeymoon, make sure to bring me a gift," Aneesa said, sitting next to Junaid.

"Oh, you're always hungry for things," Samaira laughed. "Let them go safely first."

"It's okay. Definitely. She’s my cute little sister after all. Don’t scold her," Junaid affectionately pinched her cheek. Junaid's phone, lying on the bedside table, vibrated. Samaira brought the phone to him. He got up and went outside to take the call.

"Hello," Junaid put the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Captain." Behram spoke from the other end. He, too, had just woken up somewhere. Dressed in a suit, he was sitting in a room, sipping coffee. "How are you? I heard you got married and didn't even invite me. I thought I'd congratulate you."

"Get to the point," Junaid stood leaning against the veranda pillar.

"Well… my message must have reached you through Colonel Maisoor," Behram stretched his arms on the sofa and began speaking.

"Yes, and you must have received the response by now. I'm not one to back down," Junaid replied firmly.

"Alright, Junaid... What's your sister's name...," Behram pressed on his weak spot. "S... S... There's an 'S' in her name, isn't there...?" He said, as if trying to remember.

"Shut up! Why are you bringing my sister into this? Did I ever go after your family?" Junaid snapped angrily.

"Be careful, Junaid... You've got a wife now too. Take good care of her," Behram said with a devilish grin.

"You are so despicable... I knew it," Junaid said, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't hang up, Junaid..." Behram quickly interjected, sensing Junaid might end the call. "I have some news for you. Your father will be giving you a gift this evening. It will be from me. Say hello to your wife and send my love to your sister." He ended the call.

Junaid kicked a piece of gravel lying in front of him, punched the pillar, and took a deep breath.

A little while later, he came back inside. Madiha was sitting with Aneesa, having breakfast. They were chatting and laughing together.

"Bhai, have breakfast," she stood up, smiled, and left the room. Junaid sat down with Madiha and began eating breakfast.

"What's wrong? Why do you look so down?" Madiha leaned in to get a better look at his face.

"Nothing, just feeling a bit cold, that's all," he replied with a slight smile and started eating his omelette.

Aneesa entered the kitchen where Kashmala and Samaira were making breakfast. Aneesa poured herself a cup of tea and went back to the room where Mahenoor and Batool were sitting.

"Mom was saying we should send tea and food to Shahzeb's house. Did Dad send it already?" Mahenoor asked.

Aneesa gave Mahenoor a strange look and sat down on the bed. Mahenoor gestured with her eyes, so Aneesa got up.

"I'll go ask," she said, lifting the cup in her hand and stepping outside into the veranda.

"Are you feeling hot that you've come out to sit in the veranda?" Khizar asked, peeking through the mesh window before opening it.

"Mahenoor scolds me..." Aneesa replied, standing by the window. She was wrapped in a shawl, and her hair was tied in a ponytail. She took a sip of her tea. "Do you want some tea?" Aneesa offered, extending the cup toward him.

"Your leftover tea?" He laughed, took the cup, and brought it to his lips. "It's really sweet."

"Khizar bhai... Stop teasing me," she said, leaning against the wall, continuing to talk to him.

"Now that your friend is with you, you must be happy, right?"

"Beyond happy," she responded joyfully.

Meanwhile, Junaid was standing by the wardrobe, looking for something.

"Should I put these clothes in the wardrobe?" Madiha asked, pushing the bag forward.

"No... maybe they won't be needed," he said softly.

"Why?" Madiha asked, looking at him in surprise.

"The flight is the night after tomorrow... and if there's any packing left, I'll handle it," he said in a cold tone.

"What are you looking for? Should I help?" Madiha asked, placing her hand on his arm.

"No, it's okay. I'll do it," he declined. He was still rummaging through the top of the wardrobe, searching for something.

"So what should I do? You're already busy," Madiha laughed and sat down on the sofa.

Junaid pulled out an envelope, closed the wardrobe, and sat beside her on the sofa. He placed the envelope on the table, rested his head on Madiha's shoulder, and sighed with relief.

"This is the time for us... you and me... After this, I'll be busy. Who knows when we'll get to spend time together," Junaid said as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her shoulder. "Don't be sad. Right now, all my time is yours." Madiha held his arms in front of her, sitting quietly.

"And after that?" Madiha lifted her eyes to look at Junaid.

"Forever yours," he replied, hugging Madiha and kissing her hair. 

Kashmala knocked and entered the room. The two quickly straightened up. Kashmala picked up the tray.

"Do you need anything?" she asked, glancing at Madiha.

"No."

"Okay." Kashmala left the room, and Naheed entered and started chatting with them.

Everyone was in their own rooms. Outside, the cold continued to intensify as the fog thickened, making the cold even more severe. Time passed by unnoticed.

Kashmala was getting ready to leave for her home with Ayan. Mahenoor had left for Lahore in the afternoon, and Samaira had gone with her.

Zakariya entered the house in the evening, heading straight for Junaid's room.

"Where's Junaid?" Zakariya asked Madiha, while Aneesa stood nearby.

"I don't know... Maybe he's in Aunt Naheed's room," Madiha replied with a polite smile. Without responding, Zakariya turned and went to his room, where Junaid was lying with his head in Naheed's lap.

"Here," Zakariya handed some documents to Junaid.

"Father, what is this?" Junaid asked, taking the papers and looking at his mother. As he read the documents, his expressions changed with each line.

"Dad..." he said in disbelief.

"Now leave," Zakariya said coldly as he lay down.

"What is it?" Naheed asked worriedly. Junaid didn't know how to explain it to his mother. He looked at his father with regret.

"I've been disinherited," he said, smiling sadly, and returned to his room, leaving behind the sounds of Naheed's concerned voice.

He entered the room and started packing his bag.

"Madiha... you should pack your things too. We have to leave," he said, taking the bag down from the wardrobe and placing it on the bed to pack his belongings.

"Is everything okay? Junaid... what happened?"

"Where are we going?" Aneesa also asked. Just then, Naheed entered the room.

"Your father is being emotional, don't do this." Naheed said, taking the hanger from his hand.

"If not for me, at least consider Madiha. She's a new bride, how will she wander around?" He continued packing, muttering to himself. "It's okay. If one door closes, a hundred others open. This land is vast, like God's mercy. We'll find refuge," he kept saying.

"Mom, what's going on?" Aneesa stood by Naheed's shoulder.

"Your brother has been disowned by your father," Naheed said, crying.

"What? How could Dad do that?" Kashmala entered the room. She had heard everything Naheed said. "And where will you both go? Especially in this cold, in the middle of the night?" Kashmala looked at Madiha and Junaid with wide eyes.

"We'll find a place," he replied. The clock read nine fourteen, and the bus would arrive at nine thirty.

"But where will you go?" Naheed tried to stop him.

"For now, we'll stay at Mahenoor's house," Junaid said, picking up the luggage and taking it out of the room. "Then we'll see..." He returned to get Madiha's bag.

"We'll drop you off; we're headed there too. I'll tell Ayan," Kashmala said as she turned to leave.

"Okay," Junaid agreed. Naheed was still trying to persuade him, crying all the while.

Kashmala went to call Ayan.

"And what about me?" Aneesa asked, her face full of worry. "I want to go with all of you too. What will I do here?"

"Be quiet," Naheed scolded her angrily.

"You take care of Mom," Junaid said, gently tapping her cheek.

"Go inside," Naheed ordered sternly, and Aneesa stomped her feet as she walked inside.

"Do come to visit us in Lahore. I’m not going far," Junaid reassured his mother.

A short while later, the car started, and they sat inside. Junaid looked at Naheed's tearful face as she stood there in the cold. His heart wanted to turn back, but betraying one's homeland was also a sin. The homeland was a great responsibility that had been entrusted to him. And then they left, never to return.

Whoever we bring close to us, drifts away  

Whoever you touch, becomes yours  

Sultana Begum was sitting in the lounge watching a fashion show. On the same day, Jahan Ara had also come over. The clothes being showcased in the fashion show were from Jahan Ara's studio. She was sitting with an air of pride, her neck held high, watching the models on the screen.

"This outfit is my favorite," said Jahan Ara, pointing towards the clothes worn by a girl doing the runway walk.

"It's very exquisite," Sultana Begum praised. "All your designs are simply remarkable."

"Yes, that's true," Jahan Ara smiled arrogantly.

Malikah entered with the tea trolley and began to serve them.

"Malikah... how are you? It's been a long time since I've seen you," Jahan Ara smiled.

"I'm fine," Malikah replied, pouring a cup of tea.

"I got her admitted to a university and even provided a scholarship," Sultana Begum mentioned, somewhat boasting.

"Impressive," Jahan Ara said, taking the cup from Malikah's hand.

Malikah then started making tea for Sultana Begum. She didn’t take sugar; like her temperament, she herself was quite bland.

"Don't forget to do that task for me," Jahan Ara placed her hand on Sultana's arm.

"You could have said this to Behram as well; he could have done it too," Sultana agreed but also suggested another option.

"Yes, but I don't want Behram's heart to turn against his father, and for him to find out that his father is having an affair with some girl," Jahan Ara said, and Malikah almost dropped the tray in shock.

"Careful, dear," Jahang Ara suddenly called out. "Such a sweet girl. Mashallah." She got busy drinking her tea. Malikah got up and went to the quarters where her mother was lying down. The room was still dark.

"This place is so cramped, isn't it, Amma? And there are so many mosquitoes," she began complaining about life to her mother.

"One shouldn't complain about life like this; life gets upset," her mother admonished.

"I was just telling the truth."

"You've never said this before. We've always slept here. What's the matter, Malikah?" Hajra noticed the change in her behavior.

"I don't know... maybe I'm just realizing it now." She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Even she didn't know why she was saying all this. Then silence fell over the room.

"Amma... how did Abba die?" Malikah asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know... some cruel person shot him," Hajra could only say that much.

"Didn't they catch that cruel person?" Malikah asked, cracking her knuckles, feeling restless.

"No. Now go to sleep." Hajra didn't want to reopen old wounds.

"Didn't you even try to find him?"

"Go to sleep, Malikah, go to sleep." Hajra was tired of her questions. Her heart felt heavy.

"Then Abba must have been in pain? Who did he think of in his last moments?" Tears flowed down her face, but there was no tremor in her voice. "If he had a son, he would have found the killer. Didn't you ever miss having a son?"

"Malikah, let me sleep. I have to wake up early for work," Hajra replied, exhausted.

"We could have ruled the palace too. Who turned us into servants? Even now, we can still do it. I can truly become a queen," Malikah said.

"Just taking the name 'Malikah doesn't make one a queen," Hajra replied, clearing her throat.

"Anything is possible. Everything is in our hands. If life ever gives me a chance, I won't say no." She lay there silently, talking to herself. Her mother had already fallen asleep.

"Now, it will be my turn. I will make anyone mine that I choose. If the world didn't care, then I won't care either." A sob escaped her lips.

☆☆☆☆☆

At dawn, Behram was jogging with Fateh. They were both running slowly together, dressed in jogging suits, ignoring the cold as they ran along the roadside.

"Have you spoken to Malikah?" Behram asked.

"Yes, but not much," Fateh replied, keeping his focus ahead.

"What were you doing at the club? I saw the footage," Behram asked, his breath heavy.

"The same thing everyone else goes there to do," Fateh responded in a casual manner.

"And that girl... what did you need from her? Why did you call her?" 

"Her father is involved with Khushboo. I was going to tell her about her father's deeds, show her the reality, and have a few other words with her."

"Alright, but you could have called her to a restaurant. Why choose such a place?"

"So she could see what the world is really like." He laughed.

"Oh," Behram shook his head and laughed. "Can I say something? Don’t take it the wrong way." Behram spoke cautiously.

"The wrong way? From you? Come on, man. We’re friends first, cousins later." Fateh winked. A car passed by on the road.

"You should marry her."

"What?" He laughed out loud. "Marry her? To a killer? She’s not a good girl." He kept running.

"Maybe not now, but sometime later..." Behram turned his head towards him.

"Not now, not tomorrow, not ever... To me, she's guilty. Even if she were the last girl on earth, I wouldn't marry her."

Behram stopped to catch his breath, bending down with his hands on his knees. He looked up at Fateh.

"By the way, my stamina is pretty strong. In everything," Fateh stopped and looked back at him. "You can place a bet on that."

"You’ll find out once you’re in the system. My restraint is remarkable. I’m a good defense officer and fairly intelligent," Behram laughed in response.

"Let’s see who reaches the palace first," Fateh said and immediately started running.

As he ran, he reached the palace gate. He looked back with a victorious glance and slowed down. Spreading his arms wide, he turned around only to see Behram standing inside the palace, smiling. Behram raised his eyebrows confidently.

"I play with my mind," he said proudly, stepping out from behind the barred gate.

"But I’m not used to shortcuts," Fateh replied in the same tone.

They both laughed as they entered the palace. The scene faded as they continued walking inside. They walked along the stone pathway between the green lawns. Fateh playfully ruffled Behram's hair. Someone was standing far away, watching them, crying silently.

If I were to find you, fate would bow down.

It wasn't like this; I had only wished it to be so

It was two in the morning when they all reached Lahore. As soon as they stepped out of the car, the cold wrapped around their bodies like a blanket. It was the last ten days of December. Fog, fog wrapped in more fog, icy winds, and dew... Clouds covered the sky, but there was no sign of rain.

As soon as Ayan drove the car inside, Kabeer closed the gate and came inside with them.

"Is everything alright?" Kabeer asked while following them.

"Yes, everything is fine," Kashmala nodded.

"Mahenoor got tense when she heard the news. She's still sitting worried," Kabeer said as he carried some of their luggage.

"There's nothing to worry about," Junaid smiled reassuringly.

After that, Kabeer went to his room. Mahenoor was pacing anxiously in the room.

"You're up again. I told you to rest," he said as he closed the door and approached her.

"What happened? Was everything alright?" she asked, standing in front of him, looking concerned.

"Yes, you're worrying for no reason," Kabeer said as he took her hand, led her to the bed, and adjusted the comforter around her.

"Kabeer..." she held his hand. "I feel like something is wrong, my heart is uneasy." Kabeer sat down beside her. "It feels like... something bad is about to happen."

"No, Mahenoor, please... just go to sleep. I don't want anything to affect our unborn child. Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine." Kabeer patted her head and lay down beside her. Shayan was lying next to them as well.

"I don't know why, but I still feel strange."

"It's common to feel like this in your condition. Think positive. Come on, take your medicine." He took out a tablet from the drawer and handed it to her. Mahenoor swallowed the pill with water and lay back down.

"Now go to sleep. Think good thoughts. I'm here with you." Mahenoor smiled and nodded in agreement.

☆☆☆☆☆

Junaid sat up, leaning against the headboard of the bed. Madiha had already fallen asleep. The room was engulfed in semi-darkness. Sleep had long deserted his eyes. He sat there, lost in deep thought, one leg shaking, arms crossed over his chest.

"Go to sleep," Madiha said, turning to look at him. "Get some rest."

"You know, Madiha..." he began in a sorrowful tone, "I always thought that once I became independent, I would build my own home. But so soon... I never thought I would have to see this day."

"Junaid, please... things will work out," Madiha said, taking his arm as he leaned down and lay beside her.

"If it were possible to see beyond the sky, people would know that God is watching every moment. There would be no room left for sin. If people could witness His majesty, even the thought of sin would vanish from their minds."

"Junaid... why are you talking like this?" A wave of fear rose in Madiha's heart. "This is just the start... everything will slowly get better. And I have savings... you'll have savings. We'll manage somehow." Madiha rested her head on his shoulder, and Junaid kissed her hair.

"I'm not so shameless that I would take my wife's savings," he laughed.

"Everything of mine is yours, Junaid. Since when did 'yours' and 'mine' become separate?" she looked at him with eyes full of reproach.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, gazing at her with love.

"Can’t I even look at you now?" Her face was flooded with a sadness that seemed centuries old.

"Look... look... zoom in and look at my face," he laughed. "Look as much as you want." And he laughed again.

Tears welled up in Madiha's eyes. She placed her hands over her face and cried. She could see the pain behind Junaid's laughter. She couldn't stop herself from crying, no matter how hard she tried. Junaid wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close as he gently stroked her shoulder.

There must have been many travelers before me,

At least they could have cleared the stones from the path

In the office, everyone was sitting in their respective cubicles, working. Furqan was sitting in the room where Khawar would occasionally sit. After Khawar left, Furqan took over his work as well. Today, as usual, he was sitting in the office, reviewing transaction details.

His nerves were tense, and his face showed deep frustration.

"This is wrong too," he muttered while correcting the budget file.

He picked up the calculator in front of him and summed up the entire budget. There was some mistake in the calculations.

He picked up the phone and dialed Khawar's number. At that time, Khawar was sitting in a restaurant with Sarah. He answered the call.

"Hello, sir..." Furqan spoke with restraint.

"Yes, Furqan, what's up?"

"Sir, there seems to be a problem with the budget that was allotted to you. I can't figure it out."

"What problem?" Khawar's question from the other side made Furqan wish Khawar was in front of him so he could throw him to the ground.

"Sir, the bill that Behram Sir passed shows a higher amount, but the bill itself shows less. Where is the rest of the money? I can't understand." He carefully chose his words.

"Are you trying to say that I took the money?" Khawar responded angrily, causing Sarah to look at him with fearful eyes.

("Yeah, of course, you're the one who pocketed it!") "No, sir, that's not what I meant. I was just asking."

"Who are you to question me?"

"Sir... I have to answer to Behram Sir, and you..." Before Furqan could finish his sentence, Khawar hung up the call.

"Let's go," Khawar said, standing up and leading Sarah out of the restaurant.

He had brought Sarah out to calm her down after thoroughly berating her earlier. And now, the frustration from the budget issue needed to be taken out on Sarah as well.

"This is driving me crazy," he muttered, grabbing his phone and angrily throwing it onto the dashboard while driving. Sarah sat quietly, rubbing her hands together, terrified, in the seat next to him.

Meanwhile, Furqan prepared the budget report and brought it to Behram, placing it on the table in front of him.

"Sir, there are some mistakes... Please take a look." He pulled up a chair and sat in front of Behram. Behram began reviewing the report.

"Why is the budget down?" He circled a spot on the white paper with a red marker and smiled professionally.

"Yes, sir, there definitely are."

"So, who will fix it?" Behram's words, though wrapped in sweetness, were laced with poison. He smiled instantly.

"Yes, sir, I will fix it," Furqan bowed his head.

"And there's another mistake here in the calculations." Behram circled another spot. "What happened, Furqan? Don't you know math? Hmm?" he said in a soft voice.

"Sir, Khawar used the budget."

"Hmm, so the manipulation has started, hasn't it?" he said, almost enjoying the situation. "How much was the budget?"

"Five lakh and sixty thousand," Furqan replied promptly.

"And here, we're barely seeing four lakh, but the full amount has been spent. Anyway, it's not your fault... There were many before you." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

"Yes, sir..." Furqan smiled slightly, gathering the pages from the table. He put all the pages back into the file, glanced at Bahram, who had his hands clasped behind his head, eyes closed.

"Sir, Mr. Niaz was asking about the case... the one involving that boy from Mianwali... the murder." He spoke in a low voice.

"What’s there to happen... It was suicide," Behram said calmly, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

"So, it’s over?" Furqan asked in surprise.

"Yes. When we suggested a post-mortem, the family refused, saying it would disrespect the body. And they wanted a police investigation? Well, the investigation was done. I handled the case my way. And what did you do with the footage?" Behram leaned forward as he asked.

"Yes, sir... The footage was destroyed... but..." Furqan hesitated. "That boy’s father is the son of Niaz Sahib’s friend... so there’s pressure from their side."

"So what should I do?" Behram responded bitterly.

"Okay, sir," Furqan fell silent.

"Anything else? Any new information? Any movement from Junaid?" Behram asked, picking up his phone and turning on the screen.

"No, sir... He left for his honeymoon last night... He’s gone for a week. You can relax for a week now."

"Hmm." Behram smiled.

Furqan, holding the file, walked out. Behram, rocking in his chair, continued looking at his phone.

We’ll have to maintain relations with the people of the world,  

Not every breath has to be devoted to worship

The house was wrapped in cold and lay deserted. Naheed was sitting in the room with Sahira, eating. It had been four days since Junaid had left home. Aneesa, rubbing her eyes, had just woken up and come outside.

"Are you looking at the time? It's 10 o'clock," Naheed scolded.

"So what? Let the clock run according to my schedule now," she replied, frowning, as she sat on the bed and started tearing off a piece of bread.

"Look at how her tongue runs," Naheed said, glancing at Sahira.

"Mom... let it go, just eat," Sahira signaled Aneesa to stay quiet. Aneesa twisted the roti and dipped it into the tea to eat.

"Mom, when Dad comes, tell him to drop me off in Lahore," Aneesa said, soaking a morsel of roti in tea and putting it in her mouth.

"Why? Aren’t your holidays still going on?" Naheed asked softly.

"Yes, Mom... the exams are coming up, and the books are there. I needed to prepare," Aneesa stammered, explaining.

"Last night, you were sitting with a pile of books. What was that about?" Naheed tried to catch her in a lie.

"Yeah... those were only some of the books," she lied quickly and fluently.

"Alright, I'll tell him. In fact, I’ll come along with you," she said decisively.

"To Farhana's house?" It didn't occur to her what her sister-in-law felt when she casually mentioned her mother like that. "I mean... Aunt's house?" Aneesa quickly corrected herself.

"Yes..." Naheed said as she picked up the dishes.

"How do you know?" Sahira asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Well... Dad doesn't stay at Mahenoor's house... He stays at Aunt's house," she said as she started to get up.

"Will you go... to Shahzeb's house? For condolences?" Naheed asked Sahira. Aneesa paused for a moment.

"No. I don't feel like going anywhere, and then there's Doha... she needs me. Last time she was so difficult, crying non-stop," Sahira declined when Naheed suggested going. Naheed then looked at Aneesa.

"Mom, me? I'm not coming either," Aneesa declined in advance. "And if you ask me, you shouldn't go either... it's a one-time thing... who goes over and over like that?" she said, raising her hand dismissively, and went back to her room.

She couldn't focus on anything. Sitting on the bed, she stared out the window. Samaira's call came.

"Hmm? What’s up?" Samaira asked from the other end.

"Yeah, I talked to Mom. She’ll tell Dad," Aneesa said, tracing patterns on the bedsheet with her finger.

"Yes, the sooner you get out of there, the better, my dear. And don’t worry about things here," Samaira said, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder while folding clothes to put away in the closet.

"And what about the investigation?" Aneesa asked, biting her lip.

"I don't know. You'll have to ask Kashmala about that," Samaira said, glancing at her phone as another call came in. It was her 'Sir'. "Alright, Aneesa... I'll talk to you later. There's another call coming in. It's very important." She hung up quickly.

"Aneesa..." Naheed called out. She slouched her shoulders and walked out. Tanveer was standing outside. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Look, dear, who’s here," Naheed said affectionately. Aneesa forced a grim smile and stood beside Naheed.

“Sit down, dear,” Naheed brought him into the room where the sofas were. “You two talk… I’ll be back,” Naheed said as she started to leave.

“Mom… where are you going? Stay here with us,” Aneesa grabbed her hand, but Naheed gently pulled her hand away. Aneesa sat on the sofa opposite him.

“How are you?” Tanveer got up and sat beside her. She moved a little away, maintaining some distance.

“Did you also keep this much distance with Omar?” he said, and his words felt like a stab to Aneesa’s heart.

“If you already know that I had an admirer, then why are you marrying me?” Aneesa looked at him with piercing eyes.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Who’s marrying you? You’re just a tissue paper… something to be used and discarded. Trash…” he said with hatred.

“Watch your tongue, Tanveer…” Aneesa warned, raising her finger. “If I lose my temper, you won’t be here.”

“Are you threatening me?” he suddenly turned serious.

“Yes.” She locked eyes with him, fearlessly responding. He moved closer and clenched her jaw. She whimpered, and Tanveer shoved her away.

“What is this insolence? Don’t forget, this is my house,” she said, suppressing her voice.

“Oh… your house? Then let’s go to my house… to my room,” he said, running his hand across his neck. Before Aneesa could respond, Naheed entered the room. She placed a tray of tea and biscuits in front of Tanveer.

“What were you two talking about?” Naheed asked, sitting on the sofa across from them.

“Just talking about his sister,” Aneesa quickly replied. Tanveer clenched his jaw.

“What do you do these days, dear?” Naheed asked with a smile.

“Loafing around,” Aneesa muttered with a slight smile.

"I go to university," he said while munching on a biscuit. Aneesa reached out and grabbed two biscuits. When Naheed gestured for her to stop, she took two more and walked out. Naheed stayed behind, chatting with him.

Aneesa went to her room and closed the door behind her.

"What kind of person have I been tied to?" she murmured, leaning against the closed door and sliding down to sit on the floor. "Mahenoor and Kashmala both found good husbands. So why are my matches like this?"

"This guy is going to drive me crazy," she thought in anguish.

"Death isn’t easy. And a murderer…? Some people remind you of your sins just by looking at them. Tanveer is one of those people. Even if I die, this sin won’t leave me. So why? Why should I destroy myself? Why is a woman born to be so helpless?"

She began to feel distressed. There was no one to understand her, nor anyone to be understood... no one was near.

This is a city of enchantment, nothing can be said,

The person beside you—are they an angel or a curse?

Samaira was walking through the corridor. She was dressed in the green hospital uniform, stained with blood. She had just finished a surgery. Upon entering the room, she stood still. Dr. Yasmin also entered the room at that moment.

"How was the experience?"

"My hands were trembling," Samaira smiled faintly. "I’ve never dealt with complex cases before."

Crying sounds could be heard from outside.

"Why is he crying?" Samaira asked Yasmin.

"Oh, forget about it... Something got into his eye, that’s all... And when we called the doctor, she said she’d come at her convenience. The patient can go to hell for all she cares," Yasmin said dismissively, waving her hands.

"That's not right." Samaira picked up her clothes and went to the washroom. When she came out, she was dressed in her own clothes. She put on her abaya and went outside, where a boy was crying. Samaira knelt beside him, turned on the torch, and looked into his eye.

A piece of straw was lodged in his eye. Samaira gently lifted his eyelid with her thumb and carefully removed the straw. He screamed suddenly.

"That’s it… It’s done," she said, standing up. "Apply an ice cube, it will get better in a little while." His eye was red. Someone was watching her from a distance.

Samaira stood up and returned to the room. She was just about to sit down when there was a knock on the door. Behram was standing there, smiling.

"Sir... I mean, Behram... You?" she smiled politely. "Please, come in." She gestured for him to sit as she herself took a seat.

"How are you? Any problems? Any requests?" He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"No, no. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. If you're free, shall we go out?" he asked, rubbing his thumb against his fingers.

"Now?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?" Behram raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

"No, there's no problem. But..."

"But what?"

"But I don't feel comfortable meeting like this..."

"Why? Don’t you enjoy spending time with me?" he asked, a hint of complaint in his voice.

"No, it's not that," she bit her lip, lost in thought for a moment. Then she picked up her bag and stood up. "Alright, let’s go..." she said, and he smiled.

They both got into the car. Behram stopped the car in front of a shop.

"Why did you stop here?" Samaira was surprised and looked around. There were shops everywhere.

"I have something to take, I'll be back in two minutes." He got out of the car and entered a shop. Samaira's eyes were fixed on him as he took something wrapped in brown paper from the shopkeeper. In between, he glanced towards the car, but due to the tinted windows, he couldn't see Samaira watching him. Samaira looked around the car. She opened the dashboard and found a gun inside. She quickly closed the dashboard when she saw Behram coming back. As he got into the car, he placed the brown paper package at his feet.

"Shall we go for some coffee?" he smiled and started the car, making a U-turn.

"Hmm," she replied softly.

"So, how’s everyone at home?" he asked casually.

"By God's grace, everyone is fine," she smiled.

"Good. If you ever need anything, just call me... I'll be there right on time, hmm?"

"Thanks... but I don't think I'll ever need your help," she replied cautiously.

"Why is that?" He gave her a sharp look before turning his gaze back to the road.

"I don't know..." Samaira didn't think it necessary to respond further.

"Okay," he smiled faintly. Then there was silence. The car stopped in front of a coffee shop. Behram ordered two coffees and sat down with her at a table where sofas were placed.

"That day, you came to see me at the office?" Behram suddenly remembered her visit to his office.

"Yes... maybe..." she tried to recall. She remembered thinking that Behram might have been upset.

"Was it something important? You didn’t even say anything, just left."

"Were you upset?"

The waiter brought the coffee and placed it in front of them.

"Me? Not at all... How could I be upset with you?" he said in a strange tone. Samaira averted her gaze. "Anyway... forget it... I have something for you." Behram pulled out a long box from inside his suit, which contained a ruby.

"What?" she smiled and leaned back, placing her hands in her lap. Behram opened the box and placed it in front of her. Samaira looked at the deep red gemstone.

"What’s this for?" She looked at Behram with questioning eyes.

"I want to marry you," he said without hesitation, smiling as he sipped his coffee.

The world around her seemed to freeze. Everything became still. All she could see was Behram smiling, sipping his coffee. He was wearing a navy-blue suit, his hair neatly set with gel, deep black eyes, and a light stubble. It all happened so quickly that she didn't quite register it. Behram stood up and sat beside her. The ruby sparkled in front of her. He was waiting for her response. Samaira felt a chill spreading through her body.

"I love you, and I want you to be a part of my life. I want to make a relationship with you. I want to marry you," he said in an enchanting voice.

"Behram, are you proposing to me?" she asked, smiling in surprise.

"Yes, I am," he nodded, taking her hand in his. 

"Will you marry me? I will cherish you as I cherish this ruby."

Samaira laughed softly.

"Behram, you..."

"I can't bear to hear a 'no,'" he said firmly.

"I'll think about it and let you know," Samaira gently pulled her hand away from his grip.

"But keep this ruby. Wear it—it will look beautiful around your neck." Behram placed the ruby in her palm. Then, he pushed the coffee mug towards her, and Samaira picked it up, taking a sip.

"Are you happy?" Behram moved a little distance away and spread his arm over the back of the sofa behind Samaira.

"For what?" She turned to look at Behram.

"When we get married." Behram said, thinking far ahead. Samaira placed her coffee mug on the table.

"Behram... I don't think you should be thinking about all this... I mean... the thoughts you have about Kashmala... and then personally, I don't even know much about you." She was saying with a saddened face. "I'm scared, Behram... like... what if this path is wrong... what if my whole life gets ruined?" She was sitting with her head down.

"With me?" Behram asked, peering at her face.

"I don't know... I want my life partner to support me. What I've seen in life... the couples I've seen... I don't want it to be like that." She was scratching the table with her nail.

"I've always helped you; have I ever harmed you? I had many opportunities, I could have misused you if I wanted... I could have taken revenge for Kashmala from you." Samaira looked up at him. There was love reflected in her eyes. "But I didn't do that. I respect you." He said, placing his hand on his heart.

("I... the one who considered you my savior,") Samaira looked straight ahead.

"Whenever you say, I'll send my family to your house... for a proposal." He raised his hand as he spoke and then sat up straight, resting his elbows on the table.

Samaira looked at the watch strapped to his wrist. It was 2:30 PM.

"Behram... could you drop me at the hospital? It's getting late," she said while placing the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

"Sure." He paid the bill and headed to the car. He started the engine.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you..." he said politely. The ruby was still in Samaira’s hand. She sat silently, looking at the box she was holding.

Then it so happened that the strength to sin was no more

Many people like me became saints

Junaid was standing in Faisal Mosque, performing the Isha prayer. With his hands folded over his stomach, he was reciting Surah Al-Fatiha. Outside, Madiha was sitting with another woman. Two children, around five or six years old, were with them. The mosque was carpeted in red. Someone quietly came and stood beside Junaid. Junaid was in the position of Ruku (bowing) when the person next to him fell into prostration. How strange is the path of sin... it brings a person down to the ground. He was crying, his forehead touching the ground in prostration. There were only a few people in the mosque. He got up and began to rub the spot where he had prostrated. Junaid finished his prayer and looked at him. It was the same person he had met once in Lahore. The young man appeared humble. Junaid raised his hands in supplication.

After reciting the Darood Sharif, he prayed from gratitude to seeking refuge. He closed his eyes and let peace settle deep within him. The person beside him sat silently, his hands resting in his lap. Junaid got up to leave.

"Won't you stay tonight?" The man called out, and Junaid sat back down.

"Again? You still haven’t reached your destination?" Junaid asked with a smile.

"I never even walked that path," he shook his head. He shook his head.

"What’s your name?" Junaid asked, sitting in the Tashahhud position, his hands resting on his knees.

"Sultan Muhammad Fateh," he looked up at Junaid.

"Do you know who he was? And do you know who you are?"

"I want the same peace that’s on your face right now," his gaze lingered on Junaid's face.

“What do you do?” Junaid asked with a smile.

“I will do a lot. I’ve got degrees from top universities in New York. But I haven't found peace. Not before… not now.” He sat with regret in his eyes. “My family is wealthy... I lack nothing. And yet, I feel like something is missing.” He spoke in a lost manner.

“Where did you search for it?”

“Everywhere... in mosques, temples, churches, clubs, parties... even in women.” He laughed at himself. “Isn't that strange?”

“And within yourself? Did you search within your own soul? You forgot to search within yourself, Sultan Muhammad Fateh.”

Junaid’s words made him freeze for a moment.

“Then who are those dervishes who say they have found God? Why don’t we ordinary people find Him? Neither are our prayers answered… nor do we find light… nor do we find peace.”

“We ordinary people find God too. Our prayers are answered; they build our path to the afterlife. And when we say we haven’t found the light… do you know why we don’t find it? Because our hearts are stained. Where there is filth, how can light pass through? Peace lies in the light.”

“Peace lies in the light, Fateh.” He heard Samaira’s voice echoing around him.

“So how do I cleanse my heart? It’s stained. I’ve committed many sins. I am a fornicator, an alcoholic, and I even commit major sins daily. Will it be easy for Allah to forgive me? My eyes are filled with the filth of sin... my heart desires sin... will it be easy to erase it? The lust will remain.” A warm tear rolled down his cheek. “Every night I go to a woman to indulge in pleasures... then how... how will He let me come close to Him?” Junaid listened to him. He fell silent.

"And you know... I'm not afraid during the day. I make promises for every sin. I plan everything. But when I return after committing the sin at night... that's when I feel it. That's when the darkness scares me. And even now, I'm feeling it."

"What sin have you just committed?" Junaid asked, sitting down on his heels.

"Hmph." He laughed mockingly and shook his head. "Can you even bear to hear it?"

"If you have the courage to tell, I have the courage to listen."

"I came back from a party... I just spent an hour with a woman before coming here." When he spoke, a strange expression came over his face—fear after committing a sin... unease... dread... and so much more. "You haven't told me... how did you get all this?" he asked Junaid.

"I asked for it."

"Does He give it if you ask? Does He give it so easily? There must be something special about you... What is it? Tell me too. Otherwise, one day, I will die in anguish," he said, blinking as he held back his tears.

"Just do one thing... just one... when you commit a sin, remember this: if Allah were to take your soul in that very state of sin... by God," and at that moment, both their hearts trembled, "what will you do? You won't be able to atone, nor will you receive forgiveness. Consider this life wasted, and on top of that, you'll face the agony of death." Junaid placed his hand over his. "And when you pray, pay attention to what you ask Allah for... what you seek... doesn't He give it to you?" Junaid stood up with the support of the ground.

When he saw Madiha approaching him, he smiled.

"How long will you be here?" Fateh also stood up.

"I don't know. But I need to leave now... my wife is waiting for me." He bowed his head and smiled. 

"You... you're married?" Fateh was taken aback for a moment.

"Yes. The Nikah happened last Friday," Junaid said softly as he walked away. Fateh saw him standing with a woman, who was his wife, dressed in an abaya. Junaid, with his hand on her shoulder, was heading out. Fateh, barefoot on the carpet, was lost in his thoughts.

Is life really just a fleeting moment? So unfaithful... with no guarantee. Who knows when the thread of life will snap?

A man was making special preparations to clean the mosque for the day. In the distance, someone was reciting the Quran. To listen closely, he went and sat beside him and began to recite the Quran in his heart.

☆☆☆☆☆

Junaid opened the hotel room door and walked inside. Madiha was with him. She placed her bag on the sofa and came towards Junaid. She removed her abaya, wrapped a shawl around herself, and let her hair down.

"Junaid, will you write first, or should I?" She handed a blank sheet of paper to Junaid and sat on the bed. Junaid, who had been lying down with his eyes closed, sat up.

"You write first... I'll get an idea of how to write the letter." Junaid placed the paper in front of both of them. They sat cross-legged.

"This way, you'll cheat, Junaid," she said, feigning annoyance.

"No, I promise. I'll write my own thoughts," he laughed.

"If that's the case..." She got up and brought another sheet of paper. "You write yours, and I'll write mine," and she placed the paper in front of Junaid. He smiled as he took the paper.

"A daughter?" Junaid asked to confirm.

"Yes, Junaid, a daughter. A daughter." Madiha held his shoulders and then squeezed his cheeks.

"Okay." He laughed and leaned over the paper. "But what about the name?" Junaid looked into her eyes.

"Yes... I forgot. The name is... Yathrib," she said, her eyes filled with love. Junaid took her hand and kissed it.

"To dear daughter... Yathrib," Junaid began to write.

"You. The most beautiful gift of my life, one that I received from my wife... a complete blessing from my Lord bestowed upon me. And I, your lucky father. My dear daughter, who is as beautiful and delicate as a flower—I wish for Allah to preserve your beauty. May He shape your destiny with grace. May He illuminate your heart with light. May He protect you from all harm and whisperings of the devil.

Your Baba... Junaid Khan."

"That's it?" Junaid smiled at Madiha after finishing the letter. Madiha nodded in agreement. "Now it's your turn," Junaid said, handing the pen to her.

"To my beautiful Yathrib...

Meeting you will bring me immense joy. I want to see you in front of me. I want to feel you. I want to see you grow and succeed in life. You know... Junaid made a promise to me yesterday. When you are born, we will perform Hajj together. We will spend that moment together. Our difficulties will vanish. We will live in the paradise on earth together. May Allah make you a flower of Jannah. We will meet soon.

Your Mama... Madiha Ali." 

Madiha let the pen drop onto the paper. Junaid gently brushed her hair back from her face. They both smiled with shining eyes. Junaid cupped her face in his hands.

"You are the greatest joy in my life. I never imagined that life could be this delightful. I am living every moment to the fullest. I am doing everything I never did before. I am complete because of you. You are the only precious part left in my life."

Madiha smiled shyly.

"Go to sleep. You have to go to the FIA in the morning," Madiha said as she slid back a bit. They both leaned against the headboard of the bed. Junaid placed the letters on the side table and then sat close to Madiha.

"When you're with me, it feels like I have everything. No worries... no tasks come to mind," Junaid said, gently stroking her fingers with his thumb. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Junaid looked at her, noticing her blushing silence. She shook her head, laughing shyly, and Junaid lay down beside her. 

Outside, a cool breeze was blowing, and light rain was falling. The sky was intermittently lit by flashes of lightning as dark clouds gathered above.

It is here that my cowardly enemy has been defeated

Against me alone, your army turned out to be no match.

It was Friday, the last day of December. The cold was at its peak. It was eight o'clock. Junaid, dressed in a buttoned shirt and a coat, was having breakfast. Madiha was still lying in bed, awake.

"When will you be back?" Madiha asked while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

"I'll be back by ten," Junaid replied as he quickly drank his juice and kissed Madiha on the forehead. "Make sure to lock the door," he added as he grabbed some papers and a file and headed out. Madiha closed the door and went to get ready.

At exactly a quarter to nine, he stopped his car outside the agency's head office, got out, and went inside.

People were busy working all around. He sat down on a sofa placed to one side and kept glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Who are you, and whom do you want to meet?" a man named Mir Sadiq, who had stopped in front of Junaid, asked.

"I'm Junaid Khan. I need to meet Irfan Siddiqui. Is he here?" Junaid asked, pausing for a moment. Mir Sadiq squinted at him.

"Why do you want to meet him?" (Only those who had a complaint to file against a high-ranking officer could meet him.) Mir Sadiq gave him a suspicious look. "Show me what you have. I'm his secretary," he lied and took the file from Junaid's hand.

"I'm here for Behram Sikandar..." Junaid paused for a moment. He didn't feel it was right to trust him. Mir Sadiq had already opened the file and glanced at the first page. Junaid quickly took the file back from him.

"Just tell me, is Irfan Siddiqui here or not?" Junaid asked seriously.

"No, sir, he isn't in the office right now. If you give me the file, I'll make sure it reaches him," Mir Sadiq said, and Junaid felt a sense of danger around him.

"No. I'll hand it over to him myself," Junaid said, standing up. "When will he be here?"

"Come on Monday. The office will be closed in the morning; it's closed on Saturdays and Sundays," Mir Sadiq replied.

"Okay," Junaid said and quickly walked out. As he left, Mir Sadiq took out his phone and dialed a number. When the call was answered on the other side, he spoke.

"Someone named Junaid came to the FIA office. He has all the evidence against Behram. Now it's up to you guys to decide what to do. My job ends here."

On the other side, Furqan was shocked to hear this. He went straight to Behram's office, but Behram wasn't there. The office was deserted, so he had to make a call.

"Sir... Junaid has reached the FIA office with a complaint against you," he informed in a panic as he stepped out of the office.

"What? And what are your men doing? Didn't you say he was on his honeymoon?" Behram was driving at that moment, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"What should we do now, sir?"

"Get to Islamabad. Under no circumstances should he get away. I'm coming too." Behram ended the call. Both of them now had to reach Islamabad.

☆☆☆☆☆

Junaid knocked on the door. Madiha was ironing Junaid's shirt at that time. She came over and opened the door.

"You came back so soon," Madiha said as she closed the door and brought a glass of water to Junaid. He sat down on the sofa, took the glass from her, and began drinking. He looked at her from head to toe. She was wearing a shirt and jeans with a coat that reached down to her knees. Her hair was loose.

"Start packing. We're going back to Lahore today," Junaid said as he placed the empty glass on the table.

"Okay," she agreed without any questions and started packing their bags. Junaid leaned his head against the back of the sofa.

"Time flew by so quickly here. It feels like we stayed just for a day," she said while packing the bags.

"Yeah, but we did spend quality time," he smiled slightly and went to change. When he came out, he was wearing a black T-shirt with a jacket over it.

"I'll finish the rest of the packing," Junaid said, taking the bag from her hands. "Make sure we haven't left anything behind."

"No," Madiha replied, glancing around the room. "Oh, wait." She picked up some letters from the side table and put them in Junaid's jacket pocket.

"Are we going to surprise the family by arriving early?" Madiha asked excitedly.

"No, I'll inform them before we leave. We'll reach by tomorrow morning," he replied with a smile.

"That late?"

"Yeah. We'll take it slow so that I can have some more time with you," he said.

"Okay," she agreed. They both came out with their bags. Junaid paid the bill at the reception and settled some other dues.

Junaid loaded the luggage into the car, and they set off. The car was now on the road. Junaid was on the phone, telling something to Kashmala, while Madiha kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

After driving a bit, Junaid stopped the car at a shop.

"What are we doing here?" Madiha asked, looking around.

"Aneesa mentioned something, just picking that up. You stay here, I'll be right back," Junaid replied as he got out of the car and walked into the shop.

Inside, there were some wooden items on display. Junaid picked up a carved piece of wood with the name "Yathrib" on it, paid the shopkeeper, and returned to the car.

"Ah, now I need to get a laptop," he said, taking a deep breath. Madiha smiled slightly. Outside, light raindrops were falling, and the sky was a deep blue. After a short drive, they stopped in front of a computer and mobile shop. Junaid opened the glass door and went inside. Madiha watched him from the car.

The shopkeeper was showing him different laptops, but Junaid shook his head in disapproval. He pointed to a different one and had the laptop unboxed to inspect it. He laughed at something the shopkeeper said.

"Yes, this one is fine," Junaid said, smiling, and handed over the payment.

He then sat down at a table and took out the wooden piece with "Yathrib" written on it from his jacket. Using some adhesive, he carefully attached it to the top corner of the laptop.

"Hello, Junaid..." A voice called out, and Fateh approached him. He was holding an iPad in his hand.

"Oh, Fateh... you?" Junaid responded with a smile.

"What are you up to?" Fateh asked, sitting beside him and glancing at the laptop on Junaid's lap. Nothing, rather a lot came to mind. The model was familiar to Fateh—it was the same one he had, with the name "Yathrib" adorning the top right corner.

"I came to buy a laptop. Got it, so I'm heading out now," Junaid said as he started packing the laptop. "We'll meet again." He hugged Fateh and then walked out of the shop.

After getting into the car, he placed the laptop on the back seat and started driving.

"Who was that?" Madiha asked, referring to the guy Junaid had hugged before leaving.

"That was Fateh... I met him at the mosque. Saw him again today, so we caught up briefly," Junaid explained casually, shaking his head slightly. The rain outside had started to fall more heavily. They were on the road now, and the car was moving slowly. The vehicles beside them zoomed past with a whoosh. Madiha leaned her head against the window and drifted off to sleep. Junaid continued driving steadily.

☆☆☆☆☆

Aneesa was setting up the room for Junaid and Madiha with Samaira's help. All of Madiha's new furniture had now been shifted to Mahenoor's house. Aneesa climbed onto the bed to hang a picture of Junaid and Madiha from their wedding, where they were smiling at each other.

"Aneesa, Mahenoor is calling you," Samaira said as she arranged items on the dressing table.

"I'm not going. I've already told her once: Dad's affair is a fact, and that's that. I don't want to keep thinking about it and destroy my mental peace. I don't want to think about him," Aneesa repeated the same thing she'd been saying all morning as she adjusted the angle of the picture.

"Maybe she wants to talk about something else," Samaira replied, absorbed in her task.

"No, it'll be the same thing. I know it," Aneesa said, shaking her head.

These days, because of Mahenoor's poor health, Kashmala was also there. When Kashmala informed them that Junaid was arriving, Samaira and Aneesa had gone into a frenzy decorating the room for him. Kashmala was in the kitchen, cooking. Mahenoor was supervising the new maid as she cleaned the house, and Naheed was in her room, performing the Asr prayer as the time for it was about to end.

☆☆☆☆☆

The evening darkness had deepened. The car's headlights illuminated the road ahead as Junaid continued to drive slowly. They had just left the outskirts of Islamabad. Madiha had her arm linked with his, resting her head on his shoulder. The entire road was deserted. Junaid pulled the car to the side, gently released her arm, and reached for a white prayer mat from the back seat, adorned with a golden dome—a gift from Aneesa.

He spread the prayer mat beside the car and stood to pray, raising his hands to his ears to begin his prayer.

"Allahu Akbar..."

In the distance, a car appeared. Madiha, feeling uneasy, waited anxiously for him to finish his prayer. Sitting in the car, she felt claustrophobic, so she rolled down the windows. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

A car stopped ahead of them. Furqan was inside, his phone connected via Bluetooth, talking to Behram.

"He's praying. Should I take him out?" Furqan asked, seeking permission.

"No. Wait. Let him finish his prayer," Behram replied. He was parked far from the their vehicles.

"Okay, sir," Furqan responded and continued to monitor Junaid's every move. Junaid was in sujood when Madiha stepped out of the car and stood beside him.

"Sir..." Furqan alerted Behram. The call between them remained unbroken, not for a moment. "There's a girl with him too."

"Yeah, probably his wife," Behram speculated.

"So, should I leave her alive?" Furqan asked, watching the two closely.

"If we leave her alive, she'll tell everyone everything. I didn't anticipate Junaid would be traveling with his wife," Behram spoke through gritted teeth. A sense of regret washed over him as he realized that an innocent person would now be killed. The weight of the situation settled heavily on him.

"Okay, sir," Furqan replied, raising his pistol. He moved the car a bit closer. Junaid was almost done with his prayer. Madiha stood leaning against the car. As Junaid finished his prayer and bent down to pick up the prayer mat, Furqan extended his hand out of the car window, aimed the pistol between Junaid's shoulder and chest, and pulled the trigger. A hot bullet pierced through Junaid’s chest. He collapsed onto the prayer mat. Madiha screamed in horror.

"Junaid!" she cried, rushing to his side and cradling his head in her lap. Junaid groaned in pain.

Madiha looked up and saw a man standing over them. Her eyes widened with fear. She clung to Junaid, holding him close as the white prayer mat turned crimson with his blood.

Behram could hear everything from the other end of the line.

Furqan grabbed Madiha by her hair, pulling her away and forcing her to stand at arm’s length. 

"Leave my wife!" Junaid roared, attempting to get up, but he collapsed back onto the prayer mat. Madiha struggled desperately, scratching at Furqan’s hand, trying to break free from his grip. Furqan violently slammed her head against the back of the car three times with all his strength.

Then, he fired another shot, this time hitting Junaid in the stomach.

"Now tell him everything, Junaid..." Behram said, closing his eyes in resignation.

"Behram Sikandar is a corrupt officer. We handle black money transactions and drugs dealings. His father has killed everyone who has tried to take action against them. You were given a chance... but you...," Furqan shook his head in regret. "And your sister... don't worry about her... Behram had her footage deleted. But he's going to marry Samaira. You must be wondering how your sisters got caught up with us. She comes to meet Behram on her own... Samaira Noor." He spoke seriously, revealing everything Behram had instructed him to. "We're telling you all this so that you can die in peace. You were absolutely right about us. A compromise could have been made, but you chose death. Weren't you afraid of death?"

Junaid struggled to breathe. He could hear everything, but he couldn't speak. The cold air brushed against his body.

"If I were afraid of death, you would have seen fear in my eyes. If I were afraid of death, I wouldn't have taken on this case. Everyone who gets a chance in this country... they plunder it." This was the voice within him, the one he could hear. "Behram's actions would come to light. He would pay for it all."

"And your wife..." Furqan still had Madiha's hair clenched in his fist. "She's going to die for no fault of her own."

"No, leave Junaid alone. Junaid..." she cried, tears streaming down her face. Furqan fired another shot... this time, the hot bullet pierced Junaid's heart. He convulsed, and then another shot followed. Tears rolled down his face as blood flowed like a river.

"Junaid!" Madiha screamed as she fell to the ground, clutching Junaid's lifeless body in her arms.

"Junaid... Junaid... wake up, Junaid," she called out softly, her voice trembling with love and desperation. She turned to Furqan, tears streaming down her face. "Please save him... I won't tell anyone anything. Just save Junaid." Madiha looked down at her bloodstained hands, her voice breaking. "Everyone at home must be waiting for us. Please, let us go."

Furqan grabbed her by the neck and lifted her to her feet.

"Enough, Furqan. I can't bear this any longer," Behram sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry." Furqan's voice was cold as he fired three shots into her abdomen one after other. Madiha's body froze in pain, her trembling hands losing their grip as she collapsed beside Junaid's feet.

"We spent quality time together... the letter... our daughter... hahaha," her lively laughter. Those living moments, their voices, began to choke her. Memories of their happy moments together swirled in her mind. "We will perform Hajj... we'll have a daughter... our daughter... our paradise..." Her hand clutched her abdomen as she lay there, envisioning herself and Junaid sitting at the Kaaba, a little girl holding white roses, smiling at them. And then, her eyes closed forever.

There were still three bullets left in the G36. Furqan fired two more shots into Junaid's heart, ensuring he was gone. The last day of December saw the sky roar with thunder, dark clouds gathering like a shroud. Cold raindrops began to fall on their faces. Furqan adjusted Madiha's coat, lifting her to lay her down properly. 

Furqan picked up the blood-soaked prayer mat from beneath Junaid and laid it straight. 

"Get everything from the car," Behram directed as he moved the vehicle forward.

Furqan washed his hands with a bottle of water. The rain was about to start. He got into Junaid's car and began to gather everything. By then, Behram had also arrived. He took items from Furqan's hands and began placing them in his own car.

The file... the laptop and Junaid's mobile and pistol. (Madiha didn't use a mobile phone, they were unaware of this fact.) 

"Check everything... if you find anything, let me know," Behram said, pointing towards Junaid's body. Furqan checked Junaid's pants pocket and pulled out a paper—the receipt for the laptop. He then rummaged through the jacket and found two papers, which were letters.

"Also remove this watch... to make it look like a robbery," Behram instructed, kicking Junaid’s feet. Putting on gloves, he approached Madiha. He removed the bracelet from her wrist and reached into her coat's inner pocket. There was a gold chain that Aneesa had given her. His gaze moved to Madiha’s abdomen, riddled with bullets. He checked the other pocket but found nothing. He carefully buttoned the front of her coat, where her shirt had torn from the gunshot and blood was gushing out like a fountain. There was also a chain around her neck, which Behram removed. He then looked at her face, noting her peaceful expression. She seemed to have died contentedly. Behram, feeling a pang of anguish, stood up, looked up at the sky, and wiped his eyes. He picked up the prayer mat and held it in his hand.

"Take the bodies to the morgue. Inform the family by a local number and tell them that they were killed in a robbery. Also, mention that the bodies were moved to the morgue by a passerby. Okay?" Behram instructed Furqan while leaving. 

Behram gathered the items and got into the car, placing the things on the seat beside him. As soon as Behram left, the last rain of December began to fall.

༒︎༒︎༒︎༒︎༒︎