White Roses Episode 09

White Rose as a symbol of love 

A Web of deceit

He parted in such a manner that the whole season changed

One person left the entire city desolate

The room was beautifully decorated. Rose petals were scattered on the bedside table. The table under the LCD mounted on the wall was also covered with rose petals, and candles were burning in glass showpieces on it. Samaira locked the door and turned around, Aneesa was right beside her. It was 3 a.m.

"They must have arrived by now," Aneesa said in a soft, tired voice, and both of them went to their room and lay down. Kashmala was sitting in the lounge, wrapped in a blanket on the sofa. She was so sleepy that her head kept nodding off repeatedly. Ayan was lying on the other sofa next to her, also wrapped in a blanket. Kashmala had no idea when she fell asleep. Suddenly, the ringing of a mobile phone startled her awake. She thought it was a call from Junaid. She checked the time and answered the call. It was half-past three.

"Hello…" Kashmala said, still lost in sleep.

"Two bodies have been transferred to the morgue here. You should come and see," a male voice said on the other side.

"Who?" The sleep vanished in an instant, and she sat up.

"This is Shafiq speaking... Some people have identified one of the bodies as Junaid Khan. You should come." Then he gave her the address. A cold chill ran through Kashmala's body. It felt as if someone was suffocating her.

"Ayan..." she sat down beside Ayan, her voice choked with emotion. "Ayan..." she pulled the blanket off him and called his name.

"What happened, Kashmala? Has Junaid arrived?" He quickly sat up, putting on his slippers.

"Ayan, get the car out... I have something to do right now. We're going to Islamabad," she said, struggling to catch her breath.

"What happened? And Junaid... hasn't he come back yet?" Ayan turned on the side lamp and looked at Kashmala's face.

"Just get the car out... I'll go tell Samaira," she said as she quickly grabbed his arm.

"Tell me what's going on?" he asked worriedly.

"Ayan... someone called. They said that Junaid's body..." That's all she could manage to say. "I'll go inform Samaira."

"Oh God, please protect us..." Ayan said as he headed outside.

Kashmala went over to Samaira.

"Samaira... I'm going to pick up Junaid. His car broke down, so don't worry, we'll be back soon."

"Ohh, I see. That's why I was wondering why Bhai and Bhabhi are so late," Samaira said as she adjusted her blanket and went back to sleep. Kashmala glanced at Anisa, who was fast asleep with her face partially out of the blanket.

Kashmala got into the car with Ayan. Light raindrops were falling outside, and the weather was chilly.

☆☆☆☆☆

In the morning, Samaira was standing in the kitchen with the housemaid Saima, preparing breakfast. Naheed was brewing tea in the kettle. Mahenoor was sitting at the dining table, having breakfast with Kabeer. Shayan was ready for school, sitting nearby. Aneesa was in front of the dressing mirror, wearing her abaya, getting ready to leave for university. The educational institutions had reopened after the winter break.

Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha also arrived in Lahore early in the morning. The rain had stopped, and the clouds were beginning to clear.

Aneesa picked up her bag and came to the breakfast table. 

"I swear, if Junaid Bhai were here, he would've let me take the day off. You cruel people! It wouldn't hurt you to let me enjoy my day today," she said with a laugh, pretending to act dramatically. Samaira placed a paratha and a cup of tea in front of her.

"Eat your breakfast," Mahenoor laughed, shaking her head. "Drama queen."

"Right? I can act, can't I? My movie will be a hit," Aneesa said, waving her hand as she took a sip of tea. Kabeer and Mahenoor smiled at her. "Junaid should come back soon and stop me from going to university. Haa..." she said, letting her head fall forward dramatically.

"Happy New Year!" Omar walked in with a bouquet of flowers, smiling.

"Omar... come, son, have breakfast," Naheed said lovingly. Omar pulled up the chair next to Aneesa and sat beside her. She was now quietly eating her breakfast.

"Where's Kashmala?" Omar asked, noticing she wasn't there.

Just then, the sound of sirens was heard outside. The distant sound of the sirens grew closer.

"Did a vehicle stop near our house?" Kabeer asked curiously, getting up to check outside.

Aneesa, eating her breakfast, thought to herself, "The police don't have the guts to arrest me." She lifted her head proudly. "And even if they do, I won't go to jail. Kashmala will save me."

Kabeer stopped at the door and saw Ayan opening the main gate. Two ambulances were entering the house. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, all the family members began moving towards the entrance.

"What's this?" Aneesa pointed towards the ambulance. "Who's in there?" Khizar was walking towards her. "Who is it?" she asked, her voice strong, demanding answers from the unfamiliar faces.

The door of the ambulance opened. Kashmala stepped out, and then a stretcher was brought out. The body was covered with a white sheet, stained with blood.

"Kabeer, who is this?" Mahnoor asked, clinging to Kabeer's arm. She saw Aneesa moving towards the stretcher. Aneesa removed the white sheet from the body.

Naheed collapsed to the ground, unable to bear the sight. Samaira, crying, sat down beside her.

"Madiha..." Aneesa touched the face. "Madiha..." Her heart refused to accept what her eyes were seeing. "No... Madiha... how?" she began to scream.

Another stretcher was brought beside her. She could see clearly now... the body lying in front of her was her brother's.

"Junaid..." she screamed. Kashmala, Ayan, and Khizar standing around her appeared as though in a haze. Omar stood in front, his hands clasped together.

Naheed was sitting on the ground, crying next to Junaid's stretcher. Samaira was also screaming in despair.

"My friend... my brother... who did this?" Aneesa looked at the bodies in disbelief. Junaid's face was covered in blood... Madiha's neck was bloodied... Every part of their bodies was stained with blood.

"My beautiful relationships... why, Allah?" She looked up at the sky with eyes full of anguish. Then she turned towards Kashmala.

"Junaid was my best brother, Madiha was my best friend... They told me they were coming. Junaid himself told me. But... how...?" Aneesa cried out, her voice breaking. Kashmala pulled her into a tight embrace, tears streaming down her own face. Her dupatta hung loosely around her neck, both ends falling forward, and her hair was disheveled.

"Sir... should we take them for the post-mortem?" An officer stepped forward. Ayan looked at Kashmala, who nodded in agreement. The officers moved forward and began to lift the stretchers into the ambulance.

"What are you doing? Why are you taking them now?" Aneesa stood in front of the stretcher, holding it tightly.

"Ayan," Kashmala called out to him through her sobs.

"Aneesa..." Ayan stepped forward. "Let go... They need to investigate. We'll bring them back," he said gently, trying to pry her hands off the stretcher.

"Will you bring them back to life? No, no... they won't come back..." she cried as the stretcher was taken away from her grasp. Her friend... her brother... two of her dearest relationships were slipping away from her.

How agonizing it is to bury those whom you consider your entire world. No matter how much you give, you cannot bring your loved ones back. Meeting them again seems possible only when you, too, leave this world.

One I am neither the light of anyone's eyes, nor the solace of anyone's heart.  

I am a mere handful of dust, of no use to anyone  

  It was the beginning of the new year. Cars were parked inside and outside the Sikandar Palace. As you opened the lounge door, the sound of people talking could be heard. The sofas in the living room had been moved to one side. In the middle, there was a large rectangular table around which people were seated on chairs. This was a party hosted by Ibrahim Sikandar. Ibrahim Sikandar sat proudly on the royal chair, while on his right side, Sultana Begum was dressed in a red sari. Her hair was loose, a pearl necklace adorned her neck, and she wore a forced smile. On his left, Fateh was sitting, dressed in a suit, smiling as he looked at his mother. A beautiful smile was on his face, yet there was a deep inner pain. Next to him sat Behram Sikandar, with Furqan standing beside him, followed by the rest of the family members and some close friends. Everyone was engaged in lively conversations. Some people were standing.

Behram was texting a number on his mobile. Fateh was continuously staring at Ibrahim, who was holding Behram's promotion letter in his hand. Furqan leaned in as Behram whispered something in his ear. Furqan then went outside.

Fateh got up and stood by the window. Servants were serving food. Tabish came and stood next to Fateh.

"What happened? Not enjoying yourself?" Tabish placed his hand on Fateh's shoulder.

"No, it's not like that." He rubbed his eyes. "Maybe I didn't sleep well last night..."

"Yeah, and you came late too," Tabish said hurriedly.

"Tabish... come here," Sabeen called out to him, and he went over. As soon as he left, Behram came and stood nearby, holding a glass of juice.

"Hey, what's up, bro?" Behram said in a very friendly manner as he took a sip of juice. "You look sad." He held the glass in front of one eye, looking at Fateh through the clear glass.

"Are we friends?"

"Best friends," Behram said, playfully punching him on the chest.

"That girl... who is she? Do you know her?" Fateh asked seriously.

"Hmm, she's Samaira's sister. We met at Zakariya Uncle's nephew's wedding... well, we didn't really meet, just caught a glimpse of each other." He said it casually. "Why, planning to marry her?" he laughed.

"I'm not asking about Samaira... I want to know her connection with Junaid." Fateh stood with his arms crossed.

"Who's Junaid?" Behram pretended as if he had heard the name for the first time.

"So, you don't know Junaid?" Fateh looked him in the eyes.

"No, I don't know him... Can you tell me anything about him?" Behram raised his eyebrows.

"The same Junaid whose laptop I have," he said with complete certainty. "The same Junaid who made his last call to that girl before he died. They talked for exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds. Anything else?" he said with a hint of anger. Behram's smile faded.

"We can discuss this after the party," Behram forced a smile. "Oh, the Malikah... Malikah," he said as he noticed Malikah and, ignoring Fateh, moved towards her.

Malikah was wearing a black sari, with her hair styled to one side. Behram stood next to her.

"What were you saying to Fateh?" Malikah asked with a smile.

"Nothing, just telling the kid that the position I've reached today is the result of hard work day and night," Behram said, swirling his glass, causing the juice inside to spin around the edges. Malikah didn't respond and gave a slight smile.

"You've become quiet, Malikah. Is everything alright?" Behram moved a little closer to her.

"Nothing... just tired," she replied wearily.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for that slap. I shouldn't have done that. I was angry," Behram suddenly remembered raising his hand against Malikah.

"I've already forgotten about that slap. You should forget it too, okay?" Malikah patted his cheek and walked away. Behram found her behavior and this change in her attitude strange.

"Why is she suddenly behaving so maturely?" Behram wondered as he watched her adjusting the pallu of her sari and walking towards the sofa. She was wearing a backless blouse. "Oh well... what do I care," he thought as he sat down next to Ibrahim.

Sultana Begum was engrossed in conversation with Jahan Ara and her circle of friends. On a sofa in one corner, Sabeen was sitting with Tabish, chatting with Taimoor and his wife, Aleena. Sarah was also sitting with them but wasn't saying much; she would just smile faintly whenever something was said.

Fateh was still standing by the window, looking outside. Sultana occasionally glanced at Fateh.

"I don't know... everything is here, yet it feels like something is missing. There's no peace in my heart, and my mind doesn't find rest either."

When the heart and mind are restless, understand that the remembrance of Allah has slipped away, taking peace with it. Because when the One who tells us where peace lies has already informed us, then there's no reason to search for it. Everything is right in front of us, but we blind, deafen, and silence ourselves according to our own rules to make living in this world easier. But is it all just temporary?

I remember the prayer, but not the words of the prayer

My melodies do not have the charm of tunes

A week later.

In the afternoon, the soft winter sunlight was shining in the lawn. It was a Sunday. Ayesha was sitting on the grass with books spread out around her. Aneesa came down the stairs and sat beside her. Her eyelids were slightly swollen, her face pale and weary. She sat a little distance away from Ayesha, who was reading with a hurried smile.

“You should study too; the exams are about to start,” she said gently.

“Hmmm,” Aneesa replied with a sad smile. She had come outside to bask in the sunlight. She moved away and sat far from Ayesha, turning her face towards the wall. She could feel the soft warmth of the sun on her back. Sitting cross-legged with her head down, she silently cried.

Inside, Kashmala was standing with Mahenoor, giving her medicine. With the phone balanced between her shoulder and ear, she was talking to Ayan.

“Yes... Rania is fine,” she paused, listening to the other side. “Yes, the case has been filed. Now, I don't know.” She said slowly, giving Mahenoor water.

“Yes... not yet... you can send Khizar... no, you do your duty... yes, don't worry... I'll take care of everything... okay... me too.” She smiled slightly. “No...” and then laughed softly. “Alright, yes. Goodbye.” She put the glass of water down and sat beside Mahenoor.

"Where is Aneesa?" Mahenoor took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There was something she was trying to internalize.

"She must be outside… soaking in the sun," Kashmala replied as she massaged her feet.

"What was Ayan saying?"

"He was asking about all of you, especially Rania. He said he wanted to come, but I stopped him. Besides, Kabeer is here… Shehroz is here… and Khizar will come too."

"Yes, you did the right thing. It would only trouble him unnecessarily." Her eyes started to sting. "Listen… call Aneesa… she must be crying," she said in a choked voice.

"No, it’s okay. Seeing her will only make you cry more. You’ll make yourself sicker." Kashmala took her hand. "I'll go check on Mom, okay?"

Kashmala went to the next room, where Naheed was sitting and reading the Quran. Kashmala quietly lay down with her head in Naheed's lap.

The Quran was open in front of her on the stand.

"What is He saying?" Kashmala asked while looking at the Quran.

"For now, He’s asking for patience, but soon the days will change, and light will spread."

"Surely." Kashmala closed her eyes.

"Did you contact the police?" Naheed closed the Quran and respectfully placed it on the table.

"Yes, I went to court. They all make excuses. They were saying it was a robbery. After all, everything was stolen too," Kashmala mentioned offhandedly.

"May Allah destroy those oppressors. They killed my innocent children," Naheed spread her dupatta like a begging cloth and cursed them.

"Just pray that everything gets better, and we find the killer," Kashmala rested her head on Naheed's shoulder, seeking comfort.

Outside, Aneesa continued to shed tears in the lawn. After a long time, she got up and went to the room where she was now alone. She had changed her room so she could be by herself, so no one would see her crying. She closed the door and sat down on the floor. In her hand was a picture of Junaid and Madiha.

"I wanted to tell you something... Dad is having an affair. I don't like it at all...," Junaid and Madiha were smiling. "Dad isn't good at all. He hit me. Who should I share my heart with?"

"Who should I give the gift to now that I bought for you?" Aneesa touched Madiha's smiling face with her fingers. "I don't need anything... nothing at all... take everything, just do something to bring Junaid Bhai and Madiha back to me." She lifted her face. "I had so much to tell Junaid, so much to ask him. I wanted to talk to Madiha." She was crying, but the sound was confined to the room.

She could never get over the love of her brother and sister-in-law. Without Junaid, life didn't feel worth living. It felt like her life was beginning to freeze. Now she had to live alone. There was no one left to give advice, to cover up her mistakes, to laugh with her, to teach her the principles of life, to help her move on. He was gone now. Forever, never to return. She sat there empty-handed.

Our bodies are imprisoned, our emotions are chained,

Our thoughts are confined, our speech is censored

 

Samaira was standing in the hospital, sitting in the room with Dr. Yasmin. She was checking reports in her hand while sipping tea. Dr. Yasmin, swaying in her chair, continued to watch her quietly.

"You should have taken a few more days of rest," Dr. Yasmin addressed her, causing her to lift her head from the file.

"No... it's good that I come to the hospital. If I keep myself busy, maybe I'll find some relief from the sorrows," she spoke softly. Her throat was sore, and she had a slight cold due to the weather.

"Does immersing yourself in worldly tasks really bring relief from sorrows?" Yasmin came and sat beside her. "The world itself is a sorrow."

Samaira continued to work, leaning over the file. Then she paused, the pen halting mid-motion. 

"You know, Yasmin, I read the Quran every day. I pray every day that my brother's and bhabhi's killers are caught... The Quran tells me to have patience every day. How long do I have to be patient? Kashmala goes to court every day. Every day, the judge sends her back. Mahenoor... she cries too, she cries a lot. Mother prays every day. And then... Aneesa..." Her voice choked as she tried to continue. Her eyes welled up with tears. "I can't bear to see her crying secretly every day. Everything has changed, Yasmin... everything... The killer took everything away. I wish he had some mercy in his heart. I wish his heart was softer. He could have taken everything, but I wish Allah had saved my brother and bhabhi." She then let out a deep sigh slowly.

"Have patience, Samaira... the rewards of patience are immense," Yasmin leaned forward and held her hand.

Samaira began to trace her finger around the edge of the teacup, her heart once again sinking into pain.

☆☆☆☆☆

As usual, the servant at the Sikandar Mansion was setting up lunch on the table placed outside on the lawn. There were six chairs arranged around the round table, with Fateh and Behram already seated. Sultana Begum and Jahan Ara also joined them. Iftikhar was serving lunch in front of them.

"Call Ibrahim," Sultana Begum said as she took the kettle from his hand and poured tea into a cup, then handed it to Fateh.

Jahan Ara sat with one leg crossed over the other. Her gaze shifted to the corner where Malikah was sitting on the ground, drawing some pattern with her fingers. When Malikah looked up, she saw Jahan Ara watching her. Seeing Ibrahim Sikandar approaching from a distance, Malikah quickly ran inside.

"Here are the forms... You're joining the academy from today," Ibrahim said, placing a paper in front of Fateh.

"Yes, sure," he replied with a smile. Ibrahim looked at him in surprise.

"You're not going to argue?"

"No, I'm not in the mood today," he said as he began to serve himself some salad.

"Well... Behram," he turned towards Bahram. "So far, you've done everything very well. I hope after the promotion, you won't disappoint us." Patting Behram on the shoulder, he smiled. Behram nodded in agreement. Fateh got up and went inside. Behram followed shortly after and entered his room. Fateh was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed. A small lady's handbag was lying on the bed, along with a shawl that Aneesa had left behind last night at the club.

"You forgot your form there," Behram said, placing the form on the dressing table and turning to leave.

"Was it really Junaid who died?" Fateh asked, his head still bowed. Behram stopped. "Did you tell Dad that you're the one who killed him?"

"No, I didn’t tell him," Behram said, crossing his arms and standing in front of him. "And I won’t tell him either. You better not say anything too," he warned Fateh loudly.

"Did you also kill his wife?" Fateh asked, still with his head down. The image of Junaid with his arm around his wife, walking away, flashed before his eyes.

"Yes. If we hadn’t killed her, she would have told everyone the truth," Behram sat down beside him. "What's wrong with you? Why are you so upset about Junaid’s death? Think of it as just an incident, it’s over. He was never really a part of our lives," Behram said, wrapping an arm around Fateh.

"If you had made a relationship with Samaira, you could have had one with him too. He would have been your brother-in-law," Fateh looked into his eyes.

"So what do you want?" Behram asked, sounding almost defeated.

"Admit that this was a murder..."

"No, no, no," Behram interrupted, standing up and laughing. "What do I look like to you?" he asked, pointing to his own face. "If I had to confess, I would have done it long ago when Junaid used to say so. Hmph." He shook his head.

"Fine. Then I’ll go ahead and tell them," Fateh said regretfully.

"You will tell them? Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m human. I am death for all of you. If you speak up, remember, Samaira will join Junaid too. Right now, I control her life. I’ll arrange her death through Bilqis," Behram threatened.

"You’re threatening me with Samaira?" Fateh asked.

"Yes, I am," Bahram replied, locking eyes with him. Fateh looked at him with sorrow. "Fine... for your sake, let’s make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Fateh asked, confused.

"You’ll stay silent that I killed Junaid, and in return, I won’t harm Samaira. She will be safe. Do we have a deal?" Behram proposed.

"But what guarantee do I have that you won’t harm her?" Fateh was now standing right in front of him.

"Guarantee? The guarantee will be Samaira herself," Behram replied.

"How so? You’re not going to marry her," Fateh questioned angrily.

"Who told you that? I will marry her. Marrying her means getting Burhan out of jail," Behram said, raising his hand.

""What connection does Samaira have with Burhan now?" Fateh asked, now even angrier.

Behram took a deep breath and sat down on the sofa. He began explaining his entire plan to Fateh, from the beginning until now. Fateh paced back and forth, then finally sat down on the couch, listening carefully to every point Behram made.

Fateh listened to Behram's plan while continuously shaking his leg. Behram explained his plan in seven minutes.

"So, are we friends now?" Behram asked as he stood up and extended his hand. Fateh took his hand and stood up.

"Yes, but remember what I said too, okay?" Fateh replied.

"Okay," Behram agreed. They both smiled and walked out of the room. Outside, the lawn was empty. They both sat down on the stairs. Malikah was coming out of the quarters with a handbag.

"Where are you going?" Fateh asked as she walked past them.

"I'm going to live in the hostel from today," she replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Why? Is there a problem here?" Fateh asked, surprised. "Did something happen? Are you upset with me?" He stood beside her.

"No. You're very nice. It's just that... my friends are there," she smiled faintly.

"Your friend was that girl... Did you have a fight with her?" he asked.

"No, she's nice too... beautiful, just like you," she smiled, looking at Fateh’s face. "Why would I fight with her? I'm leaving by my own choice." She tightened her grip on the handbag.

"Do you need money? Will you be able to manage the expenses there?" This time Behram asked.

"Don't worry. Thanks for thinking about me," she replied as she began to walk away.

"Which hostel are you staying at? At least tell us the name. If I get a chance, I might come to visit," Behram called out to her.

"The one right next to the university," she said without turning back, and continued walking.

"Did you notice something?" Behram looked at Fateh.

"Yeah, maybe she's changed?" Fateh replied.

"Not maybe, definitely. I think something has happened to her. I'll check on her at her hostel sometime," Behram said thoughtfully. The afternoon was beginning. Pigeons flying high in the sky started to descend. A white cat came running and curled up at Fateh's feet.

The homeland is not in danger; it's the system of wealth that's at risk.  

The one who is truly a robber is being seen as the guide, and he is in danger.

Outside the court, there was a crowd of people. Kashmala drove in and stopped the car. 

"Is Mr. Nasrullah here?" she asked the peon, who was carrying a tray of tea.

"Yes, he’s in his room."

Kashmala walked towards his room and entered after getting permission. He was a 35-year-old man with curly hair, wearing round glasses.

"Ayan told me about you. You might know him?" she said as she sat down.

"Yes, I know him. I also know you. You’re the one who betrayed from your father, right?" he asked while flipping through some pieces of a newspaper. Kashmala felt like cutting his tongue out.

("Doesn’t he know how to speak to a woman?") "Yes, that’s me." She smiled with restraint.

"I'm a straightforward person. Whether it sounds bitter or sweet, I always speak the truth," he said, placing his hand on his heart casually.

("No need to tell, it’s obvious.") "Yes," Kashmala smiled again.

"So, tell me. What’s the issue?"

"On the night of December 31st, my brother and his wife were murdered, right in the middle of the road. We got the news that their bodies had been moved to the morgue. When I arrived there with Ayan, the police were present, but we hadn’t filed a report yet. We brought the bodies home and then sent them for post-mortem. After that, we filed an FIR, and..." She explained everything clearly and firmly, while Nasrullah listened, rocking back and forth in his chair. Kashmala finished her story.

"Where is the post-mortem report?" He placed both hands behind his head and stared at Kashmala.

"Here it is." Kashmala took the report out of her bag and placed it in front of him. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at the file in front of him.

"When the post-mortem was being conducted on both bodies, where were you?" Nasrullah asked, looking at Kashmala.

"Ayan and I were there," Kashmala replied confidently.

"And when the report was being prepared... where were you?"

"The lab representatives were preparing the report, and Ayan and I were standing by the bodies."

"So, you didn’t bother to check whether the report was genuine or fake? Did you look at the report? And how did they kill Junaid and his wife?"

"Junaid was hit by six bullets... one between the shoulder and chest, one in the chest, three in the heart, and one in the stomach. Madiha was shot three times in the stomach." Kashmala explained, pausing between each detail.

"But we can't do anything based on just this report." He said without even looking at the reports. A wave of disappointment washed over Kashmala's face. "By the way, who was leading the case at that time?" Nasrullah placed his glasses on the table and finally looked at the report.

"ASP Salman Majeed. He was with us throughout the entire process."

"What if I say that he betrayed you? Would you believe it?" he asked with a slight smile. In that moment, Kashmala also smiled faintly.

"I know that," Kashmala said, rubbing her face as if she were exhausted. "That’s why the judge was avoiding me."

"Then what are you doing here? You won't find anything here. Go back to where all this happened. Try to find whatever evidence is left there," Nasrullah advised her in a friendly manner.

"There's nothing left... just the empty car, which we’ve parked at home."

"No one’s using the car, right?"

"No. My sister is using it, but we thoroughly checked it before giving it to her. There was nothing in the car that could help trace the killer." Kashmala took a deep breath and leaned back. "Do you see any clues anywhere?" she asked while scratching her head.

"No. The killer played it very well. But don’t withdraw the case. Let the killer find out... he’ll take a step to protect himself," Nasrullah said confidently.

"Hmm." Kashmala picked up her bag from the floor, stood up, gathered the reports, and asked to leave.

As she stepped outside, she remembered Junaid’s last call. She immediately went back inside.

"Mr. Nasrullah... Junaid called me before he left and said he had something to tell me."

Nasrullah looked at her in surprise. "What did he want to tell you?"

"I don’t know," she replied, feeling confused again.

"Did he call anyone else?"

"No, I’m not sure about that," Kashmala said, her shoulders drooping.

"Don’t be stressed. Just make sure you don’t make the mistake of withdrawing the case," Nasrullah reminded her once again. She nodded in agreement and left the room.

An interesting incident happened that a dear friend

Sacrificed me for his own benefit

There were thirty minutes left before the exam started. All the students were cramming last-minute notes. Soft whispers filled the room, and books and notes were being passed around.

Aneesa sat on the seat ahead of Gul-e-Lala, using her pen to draw patterns on the chair and then erasing them. The seat in front of her was empty.

"Why hasn’t Malikah arrived yet?" Masooma checked her watch. "Do you know anything?" she asked, turning to Aneesa. Aneea shook her head with disinterest.

"Aneesa, don’t you have any contact with her?" another girl from the class asked.

"No," she replied flatly, continuing to stare ahead.

"She’s your friend, that’s why I asked," the girl added, trying to justify her question.

"No, she’s not my friend," Anees said seriously, and the girl fell silent. Gul-e-Lala noticed the dryness in Aneesa’s tone.

"The whole class knows she’s our friend, so why did you say that?" Gul-e-Lala leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"My choice. She’s not my friend anymore," Aneesa replied with the same coldness.

Just then, Malikah entered and sat in the seat in front of Aneesa. With her head down, she leaned over her book. She had come back today after the winter break.

"Did something happen between them?" Roshaan, a classmate, asked Gul-e-Lala about Aneesa and Malikah.

"No, nothing," Gul-e-Lala smiled.

The Head of Department, Yasir Naveed, entered the room and told everyone to take their seats. He then distributed the papers and wrote the timings on the board. Just then, Malikah turned around and signaled to Aneesa. Mr. Yasir's back was turned to the class as he wrote the date, subject, and timing on the board. The door was open, and Mr. Amjad entered the room.

"You, stand up," he said, pointing at Malikah. He had noticed her from a distance and now made her stand. "Aren't you ashamed? A teacher is standing right in front of you, and you're cheating," he said angrily. The entire class was now staring at Malikah. Aneesa, indifferent to the situation, continued working on her paper.

"No, sir..." Malikah's heart started racing.

"Don’t lie," he warned her, pointing his finger at her.

"Dear, were you cheating?" Mr. Yasir asked Malikah.

"Tell us," Mr. Amjad said, making Aneesa stand up as well. Aneesa stood up, and Malikah looked at her with hope. All the students in the room silently thanked their stars, thinking that Malikah was saved and their class wouldn't be disgraced. They hoped Mr. Amjad would be proven wrong.

Aneesa looked at Malikah.

"Yes, sir... She signaled for me to show her the paper," Aneesa said confidently.

"Come with me outside," Mr. Amjad said as he took Malikah out of the room. Aneesa sat back down and resumed writing her paper. She no longer cared what the other students were thinking about her. Mr. Yasir continued his duty, and after a short while, another teacher was sent to oversee the exam.

After finishing her paper, Aneesa went outside, picked up her bag, and started walking towards her car.

"Aneesa..." Masooma called out to her. Aneesa stopped. "What did you do?" Masooma asked as she approached, her tone reprimanding. "The whole class's reputation is ruined because a girl from BE27 was caught cheating. Why did you do that?" she asked with regret. "Who knows if she even managed to submit her paper."

"Listen, Masooma, I’m getting late, so I’ll be going now. And I have no idea where Gul-e-Lala is either." Aneesa glanced at the watch on her wrist and left without answering Masooma's question. 

Aneesa went to the Chemistry Department to find Ayesha. There, too, the incident was being talked about. Students were gossiping about her.

"Great friendship you showed. Yes, she submitted her paper. Maybe Aneesa was jealous of her. Poor girl's future is ruined," and many other voices...

Do rumors spread this fast?

Aneesa sat in the car with Ayesha. Gul-e-Lala soon came running over as well.

"How was the paper?" Gul-e-Lala asked as he buckled his seatbelt. Aneesa, sitting in the driver's seat without a seatbelt, replied,

"It was very easy." She smiled slightly.

A heavy silence hung between them as the car drove down University Road. Aneesa could see students laughing at her, but she kept her eyes on the road, ignoring them.

"The whole class is against you now. They were all talking about it. I told you not to do it," Gul-e-Lala said gently.

"I don't care," Aneesa replied, showing her ID to the guard as she drove out of the university.

"Malikah still took her paper, though. She did it under the supervision of three teachers and the principal in his office," Gul-e-Lala informed her.

"Who told you that?" Aneesa briefly glanced at Gul-e-Lala before focusing back on the road.

"You shouldn't care, right?" Gul-e-Lala chuckled softly. Aneesa remained silent.

"The students asked the peon to find out about Malikah. Since her best friend doesn't care, someone had to," Gul-e-Lala teased, hinting at their friendship. Aneesa continued to drive in silence, her mind elsewhere. She stopped the car at the gate of her house, the same spot where Malikah had once parked, convinced that nothing would change. The car entered the driveway, and Gul-e-Lala and Ayesha got out. Aneesa stayed behind, resting her head on the steering wheel for a long time.

If only people stopped seeing things from one side, many misunderstandings could be resolved.

The one who gave this pain will also provide the cure,  

Let the pain in my heart become incurable

Furqan was sitting in the office, making a call from a landline number. Behram was sitting in front of him. Furqan, in a state of constant agitation, said something and placed the receiver on the counter.

“What happened? Did you find anything?” Behram asked as soon as he put down the phone.

“No, sir… He didn't find anything. Salman even checked in the car.” Furqan replied in a worried tone.

“How is it possible that the phone isn’t there? If we don't have it, where could it have gone?” he said, clenching his fists.

“Don't worry, sir… We’ll find out.” Furqan offered some reassuring words.

“How will we find it? Mrs. Kashmala has already filed an FIR, and on top of that, a case has been registered.” He said angrily, standing up. “Fine, let’s reopen the Shahzeb murder case as well. Do this: check Shahzeb's phone records. Besides, his friend was saying that he saw Kashmala’s sister there at the club.”

“Okay, sir.” Furqan nodded.

“We’ll entangle Kashmala in her sister’s case.” Behram smiled oddly, and Furqan laughed too. “And ask Mir Sadiq if Junaid handed anything over to anyone else in the office.”

Furqan nodded obediently. Behram entered his office, took a few sips of water, sat down in the chair, and loosened the knot of his tie. He checked the time on his mobile and then dialed a number. The call was disconnected from the other side. He dialed the number again. The phone rang for quite some time, but the call wasn’t received. He placed the mobile back on the table and leaned back in his chair. Shortly afterward, a call came in.

"Samaira calling..."

His lips curled into a smile. Slowly reaching out towards the mobile, he picked it up and held it to his ear.

"Assalamu Alaikum," Samaira spoke from the other side. She was sitting on her prayer mat, having just finished offering the Zuhr prayer and had remained seated there.

"Walaikum Assalam. How are you, Samaira?" Behram asked as he picked up a pen and began to twirl it in his hand.

"I'm fine," she replied in a soft voice. Her tone was dampened, carrying the weariness of centuries.

"I heard about the death of your brother and bhabhi. I'm very sorry to hear that." He spoke the words draped in a cloak of sympathy.

"Hmm..." A sad voice came from the other side.

"Did you find out who they were?" Behram asked in a suspicious tone.

"No... not yet. But... could you help me?" She spoke with hope in her voice.

"Me? How could I help? And the ASP Salman is handling this case; I have no involvement." He chuckled lightly. This was Samaira's first step toward Behram.

"Behram..." she said, and Behram placed his hand over his heart. "Please... I don't trust him..."

"But you trust me?"

"Yes, I trust you," she said as she traced her fingers over the prayer mat.

"Kashmala won’t agree."

"I’ll convince her."

"How many people will you convince?"

"Everyone. I'll do everything, Behram. You will punish the killer, won't you?" Her eyes welled up with tears. Behram sat there, stunned.

"And if she doesn’t agree?" Behram was certain that Kashmala would never trust him.

"Then I'll support you without telling her, Behram. Behram... hello... are you listening?" She wiped her tears.

"Yes, yes." He returned to the present. "You’ll support me?" he asked, thinking deeply.

"Yes. I’ll try to do everything. I can. Just you..."

"Not just trying. I need your full cooperation," he said seriously.

"Yes, okay."

"Did Junaid call you before he came?" Behram asked inquisitively.

"No… he called Aneesa and Kashmala." Samaira took a deep breath.

"What did he say? Do you know anything?"

"Yes. I don’t know what he talked about with Kashmala, but Aneesa spoke to him in front of me. It wasn’t anything special. He just asked her to tell my brother to come quickly." For a moment, the memory brought back the pain of every wound.

"Ask Kashmala what Junaid said to her. Will you ask?" Behram waited for her reply.

"Yes, I will ask."

"And his wife didn't call you either?" Behram asked after a brief pause.

"Her name was Madiha, and she didn’t use a mobile phone."

A look of surprise spread across Behram's face, his mouth left agape. It dawned on him that the very thing they had been trying to find didn't even exist.

"Oh..." he murmured softly.

"And do you know anything else about the case? I mean something that no one else knows, something only the family might be aware of. Anything about Madiha and Junaid…" He wanted to learn more about Junaid.

"No… but if I find out anything, I’ll let you know."

"Okay." He fell silent. While still on the call, she folded her prayer mat and sat on the bed. She took off her scarf, placed it beside her, and rested her head against the headboard. The room was empty except for her.

"Behram… do you think the killers will be found?" she asked in a choked voice.

"Yes. I'll find them," he replied, sounding slightly annoyed. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. And then… the killers will be severely punished?" Her thoughts seemed stuck on one thing—the killers and their punishment.

"Yes, that's my job."

"Promise me, Behram..." she struggled to breathe. "Promise me, Behram."

"Okay, I promise," he said, trying to keep his composure.

"The killers will go to jail?"

"Yes." He was growing weary of Samaira's questions. "Alright, I’ll call you tonight… I’ve got some work to do. Bye. Take care of yourself."

He ended the call.

Samaira lay there silently. The ruby around her neck gleamed, resting close to her heart. She lay on her side, staring at the ceiling, her hair braided to one side.

We thought it was a wound that would heal,  

Who knew it would seep into the veins of life

It was three in the afternoon. The sun was shining gently. Cars and bikes were parked outside the academy. At that moment, he parked his heavy-duty bike in the parking area and started entering the academy. He still had his helmet on. Just as he was about to take it off, he heard something fall. He turned around to see that his bike had fallen over, and a car was parked next to it. He rushed back to his bike.

"Did something fall?" Aneesa asked Gul-e-Lala, who was sitting beside her.

"Wait, I'll check." Gul-e-Lala got out of the car.

"Yes, you hit the bike." Gul-e-Lala said, placing his hand on his hip.

"Should I leave? No one saw, right? I'll come back in time to pick you up." She was speaking to Gul-e-Lala.

"Get out." He was standing there, watching them through the window, still wearing his helmet. Aneesa was wearing a veil. "Come outside," he repeated. When Aneesa looked at him, she saw anger in his eyes. She felt a sense of fear from those eyes and turned her face away.

"I'm not talking to you." She remained seated inside.

"But this bike is mine. You need to compensate me for my loss," he said angrily.

"The damage is to the bike, not to you."

"And whose bike is it? It's mine, right? So I've suffered the loss. Are you coming out, or should I call the guard?" he said in a threatening tone. "Or else, I’m more than enough to handle you."

Aneesa looked at Gul-e-Lala with a hint of complaint in her eyes, 'Aren’t you going to say anything to him?'

"Look, it was an accident. Why involve others? We can sort out the issue ourselves," Gul-e-Lala said as he walked over and stood next to him.

"Then give me my one lakh." He extended his palm.

"A lakh? I won't even give you a single rupee." Aneeda shook her head defiantly.

"A lakh?" Gul-e-Lala scratched the back of his head. "I only have ten thousand on me right now."

"Do you even have any idea how much that bike costs?" he said seriously. "If you don’t have the money, fine, I'll just damage a part of your car. That should make up for the loss." He moved forward and peeked through the window at Aneesa.

"Get your face away from here. Or else..." She raised a finger to warn him, inching back slightly.

"Or else what?" He unlocked the car and opened the door.

"If you do anything to the car, you won’t get away with it..." she shouted, sensing his intentions. Ignoring her, he reached in, took out the key from the ignition, and was about to step out when Aneesa slapped the back of his neck. Her hand burned, and his neck also stung, but he stood there unfazed.

"Now, wait for me until I get back." He walked into the academy. Aneesa watched him out of the corner of her eye as he left.

"I could’ve handled it... Why did you have to start a fight for no reason?" Gul-e-Lala stepped forward. By then, Aneesa had also gotten out of the car and was standing outside.

"He was asking for a lakh... Just for the bike falling over, a lakh? How?" She walked over to the bike, frustrated.

"How will we get home now?"

"You go and find that loafer wandering around the academy. I’ll stay here with the car," she said, finally giving in.

"Alright, you just sit tight, and I'll go find him. People are watching." Gul-e-Lala noticed the onlookers around them. Aneesa got back into the car, which belonged to Junaid.

Gul-e-Lala entered the academy. Block 17, Batch No. 10. He scanned the students seated there and spotted a boy with a helmet resting on the handle of his chair. Gul-e-Lala walked over and sat in the seat next to him.

"Friends?" Gul-e-Lala extended his hand.

"Best friends." The boy laughed, shook hands with him, and then stood up to give him a hug.

"You're not upset, are you?" Gul-e-Lala asked as they sat down.

"No, I just said that to make her realize her mistake. I don't have any personal grudge against her." The boy laughed and opened his notebook. Gul-e-Lala took the notebook from his hand and read the name written on the first page.

"Impressive. I'm Gul-e-Lala," he said with a smile.

Just then, the teacher entered, and the class began. Throughout the lecture, the name "Lala" stuck in his mind. The name "Lala" written on the screen of the mobile kept echoing in his thoughts.

After the lecture ended, Gul-e-Lala went to take notes. All the students filed out of the class. The boy put on his helmet and walked over to the car. Aneesa was sitting with her head resting on the steering wheel. He could see her through the transparent window. He knocked on the window. Aneesa turned her head. Her eyes showed that she had been crying. He waved the key in front of her. She lowered the window, took the key, and put it in the ignition. He began to inspect the car and quickly recognized it. As he looked at the girl sitting in front of him, a sense of disbelief rose within him. It was as if someone had pricked his heart with a needle.

Was she a virtuous girl, modest and veiled? Or had he made a mistake by crossing a line she shouldn't have? A lifetime of filth, sin, immodesty, fearlessness, and darkness—all of it suddenly came rushing to the forefront. It felt like someone had cursed him to his face. Aneesa slowly drove the car forward. Everything seemed to spin around him, and then darkness took over. He had collapsed onto the car. Aneesa immediately stopped the car and got out.

"Could it be a heart attack because of the bike?" she wondered, shaking his shoulder. People started to gather, but no one stepped forward. Gul-e-Lala pushed through the crowd and came to the front. He helped lift him into the car.

"Are we taking him to the hospital?" Aneesa asked, looking at Gul-e-Lala.

"No, we're taking him to a wedding procession." He replied sarcastically, closing the car door and getting into the front seat. "Head to the hospital," he said as he fastened his seatbelt.

"Yes," she responded, hurriedly starting the car and heading towards the hospital.

"If Mahenoor gets upset, I'll say it was Gul-e-Lala's idea," Aneesa said worriedly.

"He's dying, and you're worried about Mahenoor getting upset? You’re so selfish." He shivered slightly and looked back at the guy lying there. "I don’t know what happened, he was fine in class."

"Maybe he had a heart attack after seeing the bike." She laughed jokingly.

"Don’t say things like that," Gul-e-Lala warned.

"You’re so concerned about him. I say we just push him out of the car while it’s moving," she joked again, laughing.

They stopped the car in front of the hospital.

I wanted to cry a lot after meeting you

The lack of time in the meeting didn't let me cry

He arrived home at eight in the evening. After turning on the room heater, he went into the washroom. When he came out, he was dressed in nightwear. Iftikhar came in with a food tray.

"I'm not hungry. Take it back," he ordered, sitting on the bed with his laptop open. Five minutes later, he received a call from Furqan.

"Sir, I’ve checked the call records. The most calls were made to one number. I've sent you the list and number back via the app. Please check it."

"Okay. Good," he replied and ended the call. He looked at his watch. It was fifteen minutes past nine. He called Samaira again. After the usual greetings, he asked about her well-being.

She was lying alone in her room, talking to Behram on the phone.

"What were you doing? Are you free?"

"Yes, I just got home from the office," he said, placing his laptop on the side table and stretching out on the bed.

"You must be tired then. Rest up," Samaira said, smiling on the other end.

"No, I’m fresh. What about you? What were you doing?"

"I was just free. Lying down and getting ready to sleep."

"So, I disturbed you?" he laughed.

"No, it’s good you called," Samaira said, stifling a yawn.

"Why?"

"Because the whole night is spent crying, and sleep doesn’t come," she lamented.

"You cry?"

"Yes... I miss my brother and bhabhi." Sadness enveloped her again.

"Crying doesn’t bring anyone back," Behram said in a comforting tone. "If only someone could come back, I’d be crying on their shoulder too."

"Who are you talking about?" Samaira asked, confused.

"Not about anyone in particular. Just a general thought," Behram shook his head. "Don’t cry."

"Crying is within our control. We can’t do anything else. It’s the only thing we can do," she said.

"You can do more than just cry."

"Like what?"

"Consider me. Our relationship... When will you talk about it?" Behram shifted his position.

"Not right now... The circumstances aren’t right. But I’ll look into it."

"Yes, hurry up. Once you are mine, all your sorrows will end. These distances will vanish," Behram painted a picture of a new life for her.

"I want to cry with you, Behram... Rest my head on your shoulder." She spoke with a soft voice, filled with longing.

"Yes... I’m waiting for that moment." He smiled. "When you’ll be in front of me, and we’ll be together."

"I’ll talk to my mother. She’ll convince my father." Samaira bit her lip, unaware that her father had already spoken to Behram. Behram smiled at her naivety.

"I like you," Behram brought the mobile close to his lips and whispered.

"Behram..." Samaira found it a bit strange. Behram seemed to be under the influence of some intoxicant, and it appeared to be affecting him. 

"Yes," he repeated in the same tone.

"Not now, please," she said softly.

"When then? Are you scared?" Behram lay down on his stomach, using his arms as a pillow, with the phone in front of him.

"Maybe."

"Scared of what?" He laughed.

"I don’t know," she said, touching the ruby necklace around her neck and staring at the ceiling.

"Will you be scared when we get married?" he laughed again.

"No," she smiled.

"Why?" Behram raised his eyebrows. "For a moment, it felt like you were sitting right in front of me. When I’m right in front of you, you should be shy."

"I won’t be shy then," she said, laughing softly.

Bahram turned to look at the clock on the wall. It was 10:30. He smiled and leaned back towards the phone.

"I like you," he said again.

"Behram..." she asked, growing impatient. "Should I end the call?"

"Not yet. Let’s talk a bit more," he extended the screen time.

The night deepened, the darkness grew, and the night turned darker, enveloping everything, including their hearts. Youthful passion surged.

I live my life in a corner of solitude

Since she has turned away, I have been sitting apart

The smell of medicine made him feel nauseous, so he woke up. He looked around and found himself in the hospital. Gul-e-Lala was sitting on a chair, asleep, with his legs stretched out on the table in front of him. Aneesa was lying on a sofa, covered with a blanket. In the dim light of the room, he could see half of her face. Then Junaid's face came to mind. His heart grew restless, and his pulse quickened. He removed the needle from his hand. He felt cold; there was nothing on him except the hospital's white sheet. The blanket was with Aneesa, who was sleeping.

"Water... water..." he groaned. Aneesa woke up with a start and, pulling up her veil, stood a little distance away from him.

"You're awake? I thought you were done for," she scolded him softly, standing with her hands on her hips.

"Water," he said slowly, his throat dry.

Aneesa turned on the light and poured water from the jug, offering it to him. His hands trembled as he took the glass.

"Wait. I'll give it to you," she said, moving a little closer. "Consider this payback for the slap. Be grateful, and now forget that slap." She said while helping him drink the water.

"I forgot about it long ago," he said after taking a breath.

"Good, because that slap was your fault."

"My fault?" he was startled.

"Yes. Why did you come so close to me?" she said angrily, one eyebrow arched downward. He could see the anger in her brown eyes. For a moment, he felt like laughing but let it go and turned away.

"If your drama is over, give the doctors your home number and address. We need to go home; we have an exam in the morning," she said, making a face.

"What did the doctors say? What happened to me?" He tried to focus and remember.

"I'll call the doctor," she said without further explanation and went outside. When she returned, the doctor was with her. The doctor checked his heartbeat and then his temperature. Gul-e-Lala had also woken up by then.

"Your heartbeat is fast, and you have a fever. Are you feeling cold?" the doctor asked him, but he was looking at Aneesa, who was standing with her back to him.

"Yes, I'm feeling cold," he said with a shiver.

"Where's the blanket?" The doctor looked around the room and then took the blanket from in front of Aneesa, who was calling Kashmala from Gul-e-Lala's phone.

"Yes, this fool has regained consciousness. We're coming. It's become a hassle for me," she was saying irritably. "This is all because of Gul-e-Lala. If he hadn't come to the hospital, I wouldn't have had to stay here."

"I don't want to do this charity work... I'm coming." She yawned. "Who knows who he is or where he's from? If he had died, I would've had to deal with everything." She shook her head and hung up the phone.

"Come on, Lala... let's go home," she said, holding his elbow.

"You're leaving?" He looked at Gul-e-Lala in disbelief.

"If you want, I can stay," Gul-e-Lala said gently.

"Stay," he said. Aneesa shot Gul-e-Lala a look. 

"So how am I supposed to go back alone, Lala?" she asked, her voice on the verge of tears. 

"You stay too," he suggested, looking at her.

"You stay quiet. This is all because of you," she said, trying to keep her composure. "I can't stay here. Let's go home, Lala. We've done enough charity work." She grabbed Gul-e-Lala's arm and led him out. Both of them got into the car. 

"You know I don't like staying with strangers, so why?" she asked in a tired voice as she started the car.

"Alright, I'm sorry," he said apologetically.

"Hmph," she scoffed, shaking her head. "Wasting our time on some stranger. I guess you're well-prepared for the exam," she continued scolding him, while he just listened.

Lying alone in the hospital, he stared at the empty walls. It was only ten at night, but the piece of flesh in his chest was beating rapidly. He felt uneasy. He pulled the blanket up to his neck, trying to absorb the warmth. It felt like a trap tightening around him or a rod piercing straight into his heart. 

"Junaid would have stayed if I asked... he used to hold my hand." He raised his hand and looked at it. 

"Have I really not found peace within myself? Is my God within me? Then why can't I find Him? How do I read my own inner self? My face... my heart... Where do I find peace? I can't seem to find it." He placed his hand on his heart and closed his eyes.

I stay silent just so there isn’t a spectacle

You think I have no complaints against you

After finishing her last exam, she came home. She dropped her bag on the bed and lay down. Covering her face with her hands, she began to cry. She unbuttoned her abaya and sat up. Tears started falling, one by one. She looked at herself in the mirror, and all the accusations began to echo in her mind again.

"Jealousy... Selfish... Betrayer... You stabbed Malikah in the back... You're insecure about Malikah's success... Her name is at the top of the list, and you couldn't handle it... You're a liar..."

She pounded her fist on the dressing table.

"Shall I tell you who Malikah is?" she said, addressing her reflection in the mirror.

"She’s a liar, a cheat, and unfaithful. She betrayed me. She's the traitor. She took my and Lala's place on that list. She used me like a fragile doll. Even then, I said nothing." She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't want her to be defamed. But I already am," she cried. "By staying silent, I became defamed."

There was a knock at the door.

"Aneesa... I'm getting late for the academy. Hurry up and come out," Gul-e-Lala called out.

"Go by yourself," she replied in a trembling voice. "I'm not coming today; I'm not feeling well."

"Okay," he turned away.

"Am I still insecure? My brother died, my friend distanced herself, did anyone care? No. Everyone saw that I testified against Malikah... but did anyone try to find out why I did it?"

She sat back down on the bed and then lay back.

Gul-e-Lala was heading out when Kashmala entered the house with Khizar. Seeing him, she stopped him.

"Aneesa isn’t coming with you today?"

"No, she's not feeling well. I'll take an auto," he replied hurriedly and left.

"I'll go check on her," Kashmala smiled at Khizar and said as she headed to Aneesa's room.

"What happened to you?" Kashmala asked, sitting beside her. Aneesa was lying under a blanket.

"Nothing," she replied indifferently.

"But Gul-e-Lala said you weren’t feeling well." Kashmala touched her forehead with the back of her hand. "Yeah, you do have a fever. Did you take any medicine?"

"I will," she turned her face away.

"Kashmala, Behram is here. He says he needs to talk to Aneesa about the case," Khizar said, entering the room.

"What case?" Aneesa's hands and feet went cold. "The case was over, Kashmala. Is he going to take me to jail?" She grabbed Kashmala's hand.

"No, come outside. Let's see how he plans to take you to jail," Kashmala shook her head and brought her out of the room. In the guest room, two men were sitting: Behram and Furqan. Aneesa felt a bit dizzy, but she managed to compose herself.

"What are you doing here?" Kashmala asked angrily. "And on whose authority are you here?"

"Fine, let's go to the police station. Come on, get up," Behram said, indicating for Aneesa to follow. She shook her head, making a sad face. "See! Only for your sister." He sat back down.

"Okay, ask what you need to ask, but hurry up," Kashmala said impatiently and sat on the sofa.

"You leave. I need to speak with her alone," Behram told Kashmala.

"This is my sister. If you’re going to manipulate her, which I don’t want, then I’m staying here," she retorted. He smiled.

"Sure." He turned to Aneesa. "Do you know Shahzeb?"

"Yes," she replied with a single word.

"Relationship?"

"He is my father's cousin’s son."

"Oh. And as you know, Shahzeb Niazi has been murdered, which happened at a nightclub, where you were also seen. Would you consider it appropriate to tell me what you were doing there?"

"Excuse me... Behram, that’s a lie," Kashmala immediately interjected.

"Let me conduct the investigation. Otherwise, I’ll have your sister behind bars in a moment," Behram said angrily. Kashmala was left fuming. He softened his tone and looked at Aneesa. "Would you consider it appropriate to explain why you went there?" he asked, leaning forward with a smile.

"I was in Mianwali that night; someone must have given you false information," she said, presenting the rehearsed statement to Behram.

"Then what were your phone, bag, and shawl doing at the club?" Behram's question left her momentarily speechless. "Tell me?" Behram asked sweetly, as if she were a six-year-old child.

"My bag is with me, everything is with me."

"Show me." Behram smiled and moved back. "Go get it." She got up and went to the room. Once there, she looked around but found neither the bag, the shawl, nor the phone. She hadn't even bought a new mobile yet to show him. She came back empty-handed.

"What happened? Couldn’t find it?" Behram looked at her empty hands. "Because it’s with me. You left it at the club. I had picked it up from the bed." He was trying to manipulate her.

"Now, tell me why you went there?"

Aneesa took a deep breath, looked around at Kashmala and Khizar, and then collapsed to the floor.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying in the hospital room. Behram was sitting on a chair next to the stretcher, waiting for her to regain consciousness. Farqan was leaning against the wall. Kashmala and Khizar were sitting outside the room; Behram had strictly warned them to stay out.

"How are you feeling?" Behram asked with a smile.

“Send Kashmala in... I don’t want to talk to you. Send Kashmala in,” she demanded, pushing Behram aside as he tried to advance.

“Relax... I’m not doing anything. I’m not doing anything.” Behram raised his hands and moved back, which calmed her down.

“I’m here to help you,” he said as he calmly took a seat back on the chair. “I can save you. If you help me.”

“What kind of help?” she asked, frightened.

“I know you went to the club, and I have your things.” He confidently lied, looking into her eyes.

“You’re lying, liar. I didn’t take the bag and shawl inside; they were with my friend,” she said, speaking the truth in a flow. Her heart started to ache.

Behram smiled at Farqan. Farqan had quietly turned on the recorder on his phone and placed it on the table.

“Whose number is this?” Behram pointed to a number on a list of numbers on a page. Aneesa's throat tightened.

“I don’t know.”

“Most of the calls have been made to this number. And then you... Can I know what conversations you’ve had with them?”

She fell silent.

“Don’t worry, this conversation will remain between us. I won’t tell anyone. I promise...” Behram tried to reassure her.

“I didn’t go there willingly... I don’t know what happens there,” she said through her tears.

“I know you’re a good girl. Tell me, whose number is this?”

“It’s Sania’s number. She was my ‘friend’,” she said.

“Why was Shahzaib calling her? Was there an affair?” Behram asked, fixing his gaze on her.

(Should I tell him about their affair? No, it will damage her reputation, and Allah will punish me. I can’t ruin a girl’s reputation. How?) she thought, tears rolling down her eyes.

“Tell me... maybe your name will be cleared from this case, and you’ll be proven innocent,” Behram tempted her.

“Yes. They had an affair.”

“Then why did he call you?” Behram inquired further.

“I once stole his laptop, and he kept demanding it back. (And he also used to curse me, threatening to strip me of my dignity.)”

“So, where is the laptop now?”

“I destroyed it.”

“Why did you destroy it? What was so important in that laptop?” Behram stood up. Aneesa looked at Farqan. Both were watching her. She averted her gaze.

“My pictures were in it,” she said, avoiding eye contact in haste.

“Nudes?” Farqan asked in surprise.

“No,” Aneesa said with irritation.

“Then why did you steal it?” Farqan was puzzled. “If there was nothing significant, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“It is a big deal for me. He was threatening to Photoshop my pictures,” she said angrily.

Kashmala stood outside, twisting the door handle.

“Behram, your ten minutes are up. Open the door,” Kashmala pounded on the door.

“Open it,” Behram told Farqan.

“In all this, Sania was also involved. Before Shahzaib died, he said Tanveer would use me and then discard me,” she said with regret. Kashmala stepped forward and hugged her.

“Then why didn’t you mention his name when asked? Why were you silent? He was tarnishing your reputation,” Kashmala heard Behram say. Aneesa had no answer. She had been silent then and was still silent now. The reason was the same: she could neither bear the stain of disgrace on herself nor on anyone else.

“Has the investigation concluded? Now go,” Kashmala said angrily, trying to get Behram to leave, but he was still standing there, muttering something against her under his breath.

“Can you tell us what happened between Shahzaib and you that night?” Behram asked, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“Shut up, Behram,” Kashmala turned to him, saying. “Imagine if you replaced Aneesa with Sarah, and think about what Shahzaib must have said.”

“Kashmala… watch your language about my sister,” Behram’s nerves were frayed.

“See! You can’t even imagine,” Kashmala turned back to Aneesa. “He had hurled abuses and was tarnishing her dignity. Anything else?” Kashmala said quietly, taking a deep breath.

Behram picked up the mobile from the table and headed towards the door, slamming it shut behind him as he left.

The terror of silence is increasing,

A flood is about to pass through the settlement

In the room, white sheets were spread on the floor. Qur’anic sections were placed on a table in the center. Women were sitting and reciting the Qur'an. There was a similar arrangement in the outdoor lawn, where men were seated. Today was the fortieth day for Junaid and Madiha's death. Samaira and Aneesa were sitting to the right and left of Naheed. Aneesa was holding the third Juz of the Qur'an, while Samaira was reciting the fifteenth Juz from memory. Naheed was weeping with her head bowed. Mahenoor was sitting in the room with Batool, crying. Among them, Kashmala was observing the guests.

"Young death, what have the children seen?" one woman expressed her condolences to Kashmala.

"Yes, it is Allah's will," Kashmala said with sadness.

"Have you found out who the murderer is?"

"No. Auntie, please pray," Kashmala said while arranging the Qur'anic sections on the table. Outside, Shahroz and Kabeer were watching everything. Khizar had gone outside to fetch Ayan. They both arrived after an hour. After people finished eating, they began to leave. The house was once again filled with silence. The house was completely empty. Kashmala was cleaning. Aneesa was taking the Qur'an inside.

Naheed was crying. Samaira was sitting with her head resting on her mother’s shoulder.

"Today we would have been celebrating Junaid’s happiness," she said wistfully. Kashmala found their crying painful, and she quietly kept herself busy with cleaning.

"Samaira, give food to Mom," Kashmala addressed Samaira. Aneesa had already brought food on a tray.

"Mom, please eat," Aneesa said as she placed the tray in front of Naheed and fed her a piece of food like a child.

"You’ve filed a case in court?" Zakariya entered the room and lashed out at Kashmala.

"Yes," she said, setting the broom on the floor and turning towards her father.

"There will be no case; you will withdraw it," he seemed to command.

"You shouldn’t have any issues since you’ve severed all ties with him" Kashmala said seriously, standing with her eyes downcast. There was still some respect left.

"Ending relationships doesn’t end blood ties," he turned back on his own statement. Everyone came out to hear the commotion.

"You were the one who announced the severance of ties with Junaid in the newspaper. You did that. You had your son's and daughter-in-law's bodies, riddled with bullets. Didn’t you? No? If you had seen it, you wouldn’t speak like this. You wouldn’t be so stone-hearted. Instead of searching for your own son's killers, you are helping them?" Kashmala’s eyes filled with tears. Ayan stood with her.

"Kashmala," Zakariya stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face.

"Uncle, please. This is my wife," Ayan said regretfully and moved Kashmala behind him.

"Let them do. I want to see how far my father can push me," Kashmala stepped forward.

"Kashmala," Naheed cried, telling her to stay away.

"Mom, please… today he have beaten me; tomorrow he will beat Aneesa and Samaira. What kind of wisdom is it to raise a hand against one’s own children?" Kashmala shouted.

“What was missing for you people?” Zakariya looked at Kashmala with regret.

“Dad…” Kashmala grasped her father’s arm. “There was nothing missing. You gave us everything we asked for. You provided for us as much as we wanted. You gave us everything." Everyone was watching Kashmala from the corner of their eyes. "You know, when we were kids, we didn’t know who you were. Through Mom, you managed everything for us, school fees on time, pocket money, money for shopping. You never came into the picture. By the time you did, we were grown up. Dad…” Her voice quivered. “Even then, you gave us everything. Everything. But if something was missing, it was love and trust. We could have lived without love, but trust? You’ve never had it for us.” She stepped back.

Her eyes and nose were red. Ashir held her dupatta and stood with his head raised. His only thought was, ‘Why is Mom crying?’

Zakariya remained silent and left the room.

“Kashmala, who were you trying to convince?” As Zakariya left, Aneesa served a bite of food. Everyone looked at her in surprise.

“Have some shame, you shameless girl,” Naheed scolded her in tears, and she hid behind Samaira. She suddenly realized her mistake.

“Let’s go. Come on,” Ayan said, taking her arm. Kashmala took Rania from Batool’s arms and went to the room. Mahenoor sat there.

“Mom, eat your food,” Aneesa said, putting Naheed back in her seat.

“I won’t eat from you,” Naheed responded angrily.

“Mom, what’s my fault? Why are you angry with me?” She stood up and went to the room. “Everyone takes their anger out on me,” she muttered as she left. Khizar and Batool stayed there.

“Auntie, eat something. You’ll get sick,” Khizar said, offering her a bite. “It wasn’t Aneesa’s fault; what was her fault in this? She must be hurt,” he added. He knew she must have been hurt.

Naheed started eating by herself, eating a little and then putting it aside. Samaira sat with her head bowed in silence. Silence fell over the room once more.

Don’t waste your half-drawn arrows, you’ve already lost pieces of your heart

Gather the stones that remain, your body has already been scarred.

Three days later, Kashmala was packing a bag in her room. Ashir and Rania were asleep. She was folding Ayan’s clothes from the wardrobe and placing them in the bag. Aneesa came in.

“Are you leaving?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Kashmala said, arranging the clothes.

“What will happen to the case?” Aneesa asked with a worried look.

“I withdrew it that very day. Junaid is dead, something was lost, but what’s left, I’m thinking of gathering it up,” she said softly, moving to the wardrobe and then to the bag on the bed.

“What do you mean?”

“I won’t file any case,” she said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Can I say something, Kashmala?” Kashmala stopped and looked at her. Aneesa’s face was serious. “If Junaid were alive today and I had died, what would Junaid have done? He would have said the same thing, that the case wouldn’t bring me back?” Her voice was filled with pain. “Even if Junaid Bhai and Bhabhi can’t come back, we can at least get them justice.” Kashmala stood still. “Should we leave the killers alive so they can kill two more of us tomorrow? Should our blood be cheap? Was Junaid Bhai’s blood cheap? Or was Bhabhi Madihah’s blood cheap? Should their blood be destroyed in a moment? For what?”

At that moment, Kashmala felt as if she were facing not Aneesa but Junaid.

“Have you grown up?” Kashmala looked at her face closely.

“If Allah gave me the chance, I would find the killers.”

“You’re brave. It’s easy to say,” Kashmala said, zipping up the bag.

"In the beginning, it's hard. When we start something, the path eventually opens up, and then an end comes," Aneesa said in a reassuring tone.

"But what if the end isn’t happy?" Kashmala sat on the bed after finishing packing.

"Kashmala, just think positively," Aneesa said, sitting at her feet.

"Bhabhi, the bag?" Khizar came in and asked, looking at Kashmala. Kashmala signaled to him and looked at Aneesa.

"Whose bag is this?" Aneesa asked about the bag, and Khizar stopped.

"It’s Ayan’s," Kashmala said softly.

"So, you’re not leaving?" Aneesa asked with a mix of joy and surprise.

"No. I’m staying here until Mahnoor's ’s delivery."

"Then you lied?" Aneesa stood up angrily and went to her room. Kashmala smiled at Khizar.

"What should we do with her, Bhabhi?" Khizr placed the bag at his feet and sat with his back to Kashmala at the end of the bed.

"If Junaid were here today, instead of going to the room, he would have run to Juned and said, ‘Junaid Bhai, Kashmala is bothering me,’" he said, laughing with tearful eyes. "She had been Juned’s favorite. Juned never showed her anything beyond that. Isn’t it strange, love? He knew my love, but he kept me away from Aneesa. He used to say she needed a brother, and she considered me as one. That’s why she never stopped calling me Khizar Bhai, as if she were a gem.

"She's truly a gem, Khizar," Kashmala said, glancing at Khizar's back.

"I understand her well, Bhabhi," Khizar said, lifting his head and smiling.

"Junaid used to say that if I remained like his brother, she would feel more secure. It would add a relationship to her life. Look... today, I have taken Junaid’s place. Who knew that...", he paused for a moment. "Maybe Junaid had planned far ahead for Aneesa. I want her to come to me, to complain about you. I want her to think of me as Junaid, but she hides herself, she cries in secret, Bhabhi... she wasn't like this before."

"Much has changed with Junaid's passing, Khizar. He took so much with him. Aneesa’s habits... her immature talks... her childish actions... they are all buried with Junaid," she said, a sad smile on her face.

Khizar stood up and picked up the bag.

"Do the children need anything?" Khizar asked, looking at Rania and Ashir.

"No, if they do, I’ll let you know," she said, getting up and heading toward the wardrobe. Khizar carried the bag out of the room. Outside, Batool was standing, wiping her eyes. Khizar noticed her and moved on.

Into what hearts devoid of feeling have the incidents cast us  

Whose eyes lack light, and whose words lack freshness

A small bungalow-style house, which appeared quite ordinary, had been completed a couple of months ago. The house was not large, but the furniture and showpieces inside were quite expensive, which preserved the charm of the home. In the kitchen, a woman was preparing a meal, and the aroma of the food was spreading throughout the house.

"Zeenat...", Malikah called out as she descended the stairs. She was wearing a red backless saree. Her hair was half loose, flowing forward and backward. She wore red bangles on her wrists.

“Yes, Begum Sahiba,” Zeenat peered from the kitchen.

“Is the food ready?” Malikah asked, glancing at the busy servant.

“Yes, Begum Sahiba... just a little while longer.”

“Don’t call me Begum Sahiba. Just say Malikah,” Malikah smiled and moved closer. The doorbell rang. Malikah opened the door.

“How many times have I told you not to open the door? That’s what servants are for,” he said somewhat annoyed as he entered. Malikah took off his coat and draped her arm around him, guiding him inside. He was a tall, forty fifty-year-old man who didn't appear too old, thanks to beauty treatments. Niaz Sikander, he had been residing in Islamabad these days, with Malikah staying with him in the new house.

“I like it,” she smiled, and Niaz Sikander stopped to kiss her hand. 

“It’s your charms that I am enamored with,” he smiled and led her into the room. He lay down on the bed. Malikah removed his shoes and took off his socks, placing them aside. She stood in front of him and smiled.

"Zeenat was setting the table. Come and freshen up," she said softly as she came outside. She saw that Zeenat had already laid the food on the table.

"Should I leave, Begum Sahiba?" Zeenat asked as she finished her work.

“Why 'Begum Sahiba' again?” Malikah said with mild irritation while serving the food.

“Master will be upset if he hears,” Zeenat said, feeling embarrassed.

“Fine, you can go. I’ll wash the dishes myself,” Malikah said.

“Alright.” Zeenat left, and Malikah closed the door and went to the dining table. Niazz was coming downstairs.

“Has Zeenat left?” he asked, looking around.

“Yes. I sent her home. It’s just the dinner dishes; I’ll wash them myself,” she said, placing food on Niaz’s plate.

“Why will you wash them?”

“I used to do it before, it’s no big deal,” she shrugged.

“It was different before. Now you are my wife. Niaz Sikander’s wife,” he said, grabbing Malikah’s wrist.

“Please, let go. It hurts,” she said fearfully.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize,” he said quickly, standing up and moving closer to her. She shrank a bit and sat down.

"You are very beautiful," he said, stroking her face. Malikah's lips were trembling, and her body was shaking. "Relax... take a deep breath," Niaz said, holding her shoulders. Malka, frightened. "Took a deep breath in and out. Feeling okay?"

"Mm-hmm," she replied softly.

"See, I've fixed everything. Now eat," he said, placing a morsel in her mouth and then offering a glass of water. She sat there, holding her breath. Malikah's mobile phone rang on the intercom. Niaz answered and saw Behram’s name on the screen. Malikah, with her back turned, was breathing heavily.

"Why is Behram calling you?" Niaz asked angrily, looking at the phone.

"I... I don’t know," she said quietly.

"Here, talk to him. Put it on speaker," Niaz said, handing her the phone.

Malikah received the call and put it on speaker.

"Hello, Behram..." she said, trying to sound normal.

"Malikah, what am I hearing? Did you cheat on the exam?" Behram’s voice was sharp, and at that moment, Malikah saw her doom reflected in Niaz’s eyes, which were filled with disbelief and anger.

"N-no, Behram. You must be mistaken. Nothing like that happened."

"Malikah, Sultan Auntie told me everything, and Aneesa herself testified against you. You should be at home anyway; your exams are over."

"Behram..." she started to explain.

"I’ll come to your hostel in the morning. Be patient," he threatened, and the call ended.

Malikah put the phone on the table and stood up.

"Is this true?" Niaz’s voice echoed. Malikah lowered her head, and in the next moment, she was on the floor, with Niaz holding a belt.

About half an hour later, she lay with her head resting on the edge of the bed. Niaz sat in front of her, opening the first aid box and applying medicine to her neck.

"That two-bit girl testified against you." His anger was still evident.

"She doesn’t know any better," she said gently.

Niaz brushed the hair from her forehead and applied the ointment. When the medicine stung, she winced.

"Did it hurt?" Niaz’s tone softened immediately.

"Yes," she nodded.

"It won’t happen again. I’m sorry," Niaz said, hugging her. Her back was burning, and she sat there, holding back tears, hugging him.

"I’m sorry... it won’t happen again," she said while hugging Niaz.

Niaz stood up and placed the first aid box on the dressing table.

"Did you talk to Mom today?"

"Yes, I called her in the afternoon." She got up and started picking clothes from the wardrobe.

"Good," Niaz said, standing next to her.

"Will you stay here tonight?" she asked, having nothing else to say.

“Yes, I’ll stay with you tonight. I’ll go to the office in the morning and then come home in the afternoon,” he said with a sigh.

"Jahan Ara will become suspicious," Malikah expressed her concern.

“She has always been suspicious. But my heart is set on you now; what can I do?” Niaz smiled and wrapped his arms around Malikah's waist.

“Change your clothes,” Malikah said, handing him some clothes. She then sat on the bed, managing to free herself. Niaz went to the washroom to change. Malikah looked at the wounds on her wrists and scratched her back.

“I will take away your intoxication, Niaz Sikander. It’s just a matter of time and a human condition. Let me have my time. If you don’t yearn for life, then I am not Malikah.”

She closed her eyes in anguish and lay down. Niaz, after turning off the light, lay down beside her.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there. I do not sleep

Behram stood in the room, examining Madiha and Junaid’s belongings in the wardrobe. He picked up Junaid’s watch, looking at it from different angles, hoping to find something. However, the heavy chain watch fell and the glass shattered. The second hand on the watch came to a halt. Behram placed the watch in a box and laid out the other items on the table before sitting on the sofa.

There were two gold chains and a bracelet that belonged to Madiha. There were also two blood-stained letters. He opened them and began to read. Some of the words were smeared with blood. After reading one or two letters, he placed them aside and opened his laptop. It was a new laptop, and nothing had been stored on it yet. He checked the mobile phone, which was locked. He tried several passwords: Aneesa, Samaira, Yathrib, Madiha, White, Black... and finally, the timer was triggered. After thirty seconds, he tried again. ANEESA... all the alphabets in capital letters, and the screen unlocked. He began checking the contact list. He opened an email—an unread email.

It was a posting email that had been received a day before the murder. The posting was in a border area.

He then navigated back to find a list of several emails. He had sent four emails to Colonel Javed Aleem, none of which had received a response so far.

He got up, dressed in a black kurta and shalwar, and went outside. He took out the car and drove towards the cemetery. On the way, he diverted to a flower market and bought fresh roses. With a bag full of rose petals, he got back into the car.

The phrase on the page came to his eyes: "My dear daughter, who is as beautiful and delicate as a flower."

Behram felt the warmth of tears on his own cheek.

"No revenge... no greed... no complaints or grievances... no bank balance... no worries... no regrets... What did he have? Nothing. He was killed without cause."

"In this country, everyone who got the chance looted it to their heart’s content."

He drove with one hand while the other was placed over his lips. The road appeared through the fog. He cleared his eyes and stopped the car in front of the cemetery. Carrying a bag of roses, he opened the gate and entered the cemetery. Walking among the graves, he reached the graves of Madiha and Junaid. Their grave had a plaque with their names.

Junaid Khan, son of Zakariya Khan  

Date of Birth: July 20, 1977  

Date of Death: December 31, 2003

Madiha Ali, daughter of Ali Hasan (Wife of Junaid Khan)  

Date of Birth: September 12, 1980  

Date of Death: December 31, 2003

He stood between the graves, looking at them in anguish. His heart sank. There were some dried rose petals on the grave.

"We will perform Hajj together."

Madiha’s voice echoed. Behram knelt beside Madiha’s grave, holding it.

"We will live in paradise on earth together. May Allah make you a flower of Jannah. We will meet soon."

"You will be in Jannah, all three of you," he said with a trembling voice. He scattered flowers over Madiha’s grave.

They had moved on in life. Behram was sitting on the ground, realizing he had no idea about their lives. If he had seen it with his own eyes, his life would have been in jeopardy right there.

“I’m sorry, Junaid... I hurt you. Please forgive me. I never thought badly of you, but every time, your sister stood before me.” He bowed his head in shame.

He filled Junaid’s grave with rose petals. The fragrance wafted out. Behram raised his hands for a prayer, reciting Fateha and then, hiding his face in his hands, he cried. It was the second time he felt such sorrow over someone’s death. The first time had been when his mother died. He stood up and began to leave. He walked away, passing among the graves until he reached the gate.

“Give for the sake of Allah, uncle.” A child stood with a begging bowl in front of him. Behram put a thousand-rupee note into the bowl and got into his car. The boy, jumping with joy, moved ahead.

Behram looked at the wall where an inscription was written:

"Look at your deeds; illuminate the grave."

He smiled through his anguish and then left.

Who is the third who walks always beside you?

When I count, there are only you and I together

Aneesa was lying on a charpoy on the roof, soaking up the morning sun. Her eyes were on the sky where pigeons were flying. Samaira was lying on the other charpoy beside her.

"Aneesa, do you remember the time I brought hair clips and ribbons for you in the summer?" Samaira asked, turning her neck to look at her.

"Yes, I remember," Aneesa replied, her gaze fixed on the sky.

"Tell me, what color were the clips?" Samaira thought Aneesa might have forgotten and was just saying she remembered.

"They were purple. One had a rose, and the other had a butterfly. It was a Sunday, and it was Mother’s Day." She remembered everything except the exact date.

"Wow, you remember?" Samaira looked at her in surprise.

"Yes. Ask me something else," Aneesa laughed.

"Can I ask you a piece of advice?" Samaira said, turning to face Aneesa, resting her head on her elbow.

"Hmm," Aneesa said, placing her hands on her stomach and watching the pigeons in the sky.

"If someone came and told you they loved you, what would you do?"

"I would pray not to have that dream again," Aneesa laughed.

"Aneesa... I’m serious," Samaira said with a hint of annoyance.

"Who would love me? Omar is gone to Europe," Aneesa said with a smile.

"Yes, Omar has many people with him."

"Yes, really. But who will love me now?" She shook her head.

"Think about it—if someone loved you, would you say yes?"

"Tell me, I feel like someone has already told you," Aneesa said, looking at Samaira, who lay back down. 

"Who told you?" Samaira remained silent.

"I’m confused," Samaira said, making a face.

"Is it Kashan?" Aneesa speculated.

"No," Samaira said, twirling the edge of her dupatta.

"Then who is it? An admirer?" Aneesa laughed. Samaira glared at her in annoyance, and Aneesa fell silent.

"Do you remember the day of Omar’s wedding, when a man came to me...?"

"Which man?" Aneesa tried to recall.

"The one who made you upset," Samaira said with a smile.

"Yes, yes. The policeman who came to me?" Aneesa recalled the incident from the hospital.

"Did he come to you? When?" Samaira was surprised.

"Yes, he came to the house. Didn’t you know?"

"No, I didn’t know. (Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll ask him myself.)" She shook her head. "Yes, that’s him. Behram Sikander."

"Yes, whoever he is, I find that man repugnant," Aneesa shuddered.

"Why? Why do you find him repugnant?" Samaira questioned, feeling that Aneesa’s reaction was excessive.

"Kashmala also says he is not a good person," Aneesa turned to face Samaira.

"But he seems to be a good person. How can you judge him without meeting him?" 

"Has he said 'I love you' to you?" Aneesa's mind buzzed with the question.

"Yes, he has started to seem good to me."

Anees suddenly sat up. "And you talk to him on the phone until late at night?" She recalled hearing faint voices from Samaira's room the night she had returned from the hospital with Gul-e-Lala . She had ignored it and moved on.

"Yes, but I have never said anything wrong. Neither Behram nor I have." Samaira began to explain.

"He has a criminal mindset," Aneesa said with a questioning look.

"You’ve committed crimes yourself," Samaira pointed out. "If he has never wronged me, how can I think badly of him?" Samaira shrugged.

"So, will you only realize his faults when he wrongs you?" Aneesa asked.

"Will you support me or not?" Samaira asked one last time.

"Okay. I will support you." Aneesa couldn't refuse Samaira. Samaira always stood by her in everything. Samaira smiled affectionately at her. Both of them lay back down and began chatting. Aneesa was now laughing.

I am neither distant from religion, nor apart from faith

I sit at your doorstep, separate from everyone else

It was a cold night outside. Inside the room, with the heater running, Aneesa and Samaira were engaged in their respective tasks. Samaira, lying on the bed with her feet stretched out and covered with a blanket, was eating peanuts and typing on her phone. Aneesa, with the Quran in her lap, was reciting it aloud. Samaira had just finished Dr. Haroon Islam's lecture.

Aneesa read aloud from the Quran, 

"فَأَقِمْ وَجْهَكَ لِلدِّينِ حَنِيفًا" 

(So set your face toward the religion, inclining to truth).

"Read softly," Samaira said, glancing at her.

Aneesa continued loudly, 

"فِطْرَةَ اللَّهِ الَّتِي فَطَرَ النَّاسَ عَلَيْهَا لَا تَبْدِيلَ لِخَلْقِ اللَّهِ ذٰلِكَ الدِّينُ الْقَيِّمُ ۗ وَلٰكِنَّ أَكْثَرَ النَّاسِ لَا يَعْلَمُونَ" 

(The natural disposition of Allah upon which He has created mankind. There is no changing the creation of Allah. That is the correct religion, but most of the people do not know).

"Read in your heart," Samaira said, raising her hand and leaning forward.

Aneesa finished reciting and covered the Quran, placing it back. Samaira lay back down.

"Samaira," Aneesa called as she covered herself with the blanket.

"Hmm," Samaira replied, putting a peanut in her mouth and keeping her eyes on the screen.

"When Allah created everyone with the natural disposition of Islam, why do we still label some as infidels, some as Muslims, and some as Jews?"

“What kind of question is that?” Samaira squinted at her.

“Come on, tell me. You know the answer. You’re a Hafiz.” Aneesa insisted.

“I’m a Hafiz of the Quran, not a scholar. You should ask someone else. I don’t know.” Samaira laughed.

“Who should I ask?” Aneesa turned towards Samaira.

“Hmm. Maybe Dr. Haroon Islam?” Samaira suggested.

“If he finds out I’m not Samaira, what will he think?” Aneesa said sadly.

“You’ll be in an abaya. How would he know? Don’t worry about it.” Samaira focused on her phone.

“You used to discourage deception.” Aneesa looked at Samaira, who had a stern expression.

“Yes. It’s not deception. You just need to go in my place for a few days. He gives lectures, and you need to attend them.” Samaira explained gently.

“But he charges for lectures. You’re getting free appointments because of Junaid Bhai. You should take advantage of them. And who knows, maybe his claims about jinn are true.”

“Aneesa,” Samaira glared at her. “I’m not deceiving him. I’ll be busy for a few days and don’t want to miss any appointments or lectures. That’s why I’m sending you.” She placed her phone on the bedside table, set the peanuts aside, and lay down.

Aneesa continued, her voice tinged with frustration and concern. 

“You used to be so honest. Now you’re becoming deceitful, and it’s not like you at all.”

Samaira, already having turned off the light, ignored Aneesa’s words as she headed for bed. The side lamp was still on, casting a soft glow. 

“Why did you turn off the light when you know I’m afraid of the dark?” Aneesa’s voice held a hint of anger. 

Samaira didn’t respond, and Aneesa continued, “You’re becoming so dirty. I’ll pray to Allah that He doesn’t take away your light. If the light is taken away, darkness grows, and that darkness is more terrifying.”

Aneesa spoke slowly and thoughtfully, “I’ll seek guidance from now on and try to keep it, just like a pearl carefully kept in a shell, like the grains of paradise. The light of guidance attracts more light. I’ll absorb only light, not darkness. I heard in Dr. Haroon Islam’s lecture that ‘we have the light of guidance.’ Is light and guidance the same thing? Or are they different? You should have asked Dr. Haroon. I don’t know why you didn’t. Asking questions leads to answers, and answers lead to more questions. That’s how confusions get resolved one by one.”

“But understanding requires someone like Dr. Haroon Islam,” she added with a smile, her voice trailing off as if Samaira had already fallen asleep.

At the royal court, they stand with their ledgers,

Those who once seemed like men of character.

The last winter rain had started. She was walking briskly on the pavement, holding an umbrella. Her bag was on her shoulder, which she adjusted repeatedly. The light but steady raindrops were making a sound on the umbrella.

"Hey." A car pulled up beside her. She stopped.

"Fateh!" She smiled from behind her veil. Clearly, she was happy to see him.

"Let me give you a lift; it will be my pleasure. I’ll handle it with the owner." He placed his hand over his heart.

"No. I came out on foot to enjoy the weather." She stood upright, holding the umbrella.

"I also want to join you. Stop." Saying this, he parked the car on the side and ran up to her. Matching his pace to hers, he came close.

"Share with me." He tried to force his way under her umbrella. There were people around, but not many. The road was also not crowded due to the cold weather.

"How are you feeling?" Samaira asked, focusing her eyes on the pavement.

"I didn’t know about your sister. Perhaps the disease of love has affected me." He laughed. "Check my heart."

"I’m a gynecologist, not a cardiologist." She laughed involuntarily.

"What can be done! The poor person is helpless."

"Be careful, Fateh, she is quite high-maintenance," Samaira said, glancing at his face and then looking ahead.

"Don’t you go to the madrasa?" Fateh asked her.

"I stopped going a month ago," she replied, taking a breath. "I’ll send Aneesa instead from now on. She will take the lectures and go to the madrasa as well. Besides, she is free; it's her semester break."

"Really?" He was surprised.

"Yes. She’ll handle my duties. We'll see what happens when the semester break is over," she said smoothly, turning away. Fateh turned with her.

"You weren’t like this before," Fateh said, looking into her eyes.

"How wasn’t I?" she laughed. For a moment, she seemed like someone else, not Samaira. She felt a shadow around Samaira.

"Don’t you feel scared?"

"Scared of what?"

"Place your hand on your heart." Fateh stood in front of her, blocking her way.

"What are you doing?" She laughed involuntarily at his action.

"Just hold it properly," she said with a smile, signaling with her eyes.

"Okay." She placed her left hand over her heart, then Fateh took the umbrella from her right hand and put her right hand over her heart.

"You always used to place your right hand on your heart whenever you did this. And you would also close your eyes," he remembered.

Samaira looked at him with a reproachful gaze and closed her eyes. She could feel the ruby under his hand.

"Now recite," Fateh instructed.

"رَبِّ اشْرَحْ لِي صَدْرِي"

"O my Lord, expand my breast for me."

Samaira repeated the words after him.

"وَيَسِّرْ لِيٓ أَمْرِي"

"And make my task easy for me."

She continued to repeat with her eyes closed, hand on her heart. Fateh stood holding the umbrella over them.

"وَاحْلُلْ عُقْدَةً مِّن لِّسَانِي" 

"And untie the knot from my tongue,"

In her mind’s eye, the same page of the Quran with these verses was open before her.

"يَفْقَهُوا قَوْلِي"

"That people may understand (easily) what I say."

"Now open your eyes." Samaira opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. Fateh removed the umbrella, and the raindrops began to fall on her face.

"What did you read?" Fateh started walking.

"It was from the Quran," she said, joining him and smiling.

"Samaira..." He teased her. "I don’t know what you’re up to." He glanced at Samaira, annoyed.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Here, take the umbrella," he handed it to her. "You seem to be drifting away." He turned and began walking briskly.

"Where are you learning all this from?" Samaira called out, and he started laughing.

Samaira watched him as he walked away with the umbrella. She started walking slowly. He continued walking fast, his hair swaying behind him. Occasionally, he would turn around, look at Samaira, and smile. Eventually, he turned a corner and disappeared from view. Samaira quickened her pace and turned the corner, only to see him getting into a car.

She stood under a shelter where three small children were taking refuge from the rain. Her phone, which was hanging from her purse, vibrated. She took it out and checked.

"Hello, Behram..." she said, sitting on a bench under the shelter with the children. The faint sound of their chatter filled the air.

"Where are you?" Behran asked from the other side of the line, driving home.

"I'm outside," she replied softly.

"Want to go for a coffee?" he asked.

"Hmm. I'm standing near a coffee shop," Samaira gave him the address. The coffee shop was across the street and was open.

"Okay, I'll be there. Wait for me," he said with urgency and a smile.

"Okay. Please hurry," she smiled back.

Samaira got up and walked into the coffee shop, where she waited for Behram to arrive.

Dark, brutal spells of countless centuries,

Woven into silk, satin, and brocade.

She was waiting for Behram in the coffee shop. At the table in front of her, two young boys were sitting with a basket of flowers, seemingly there to drink coffee. Samaira gestured to one of the boys.

"Yes, sister, what would you like?" he said as he approached her. He looked around nine or ten years old, and his manner of speaking had a Pashtun touch.

"How much for the flowers?" Samaira asked, patting his head.

"Sister, one flower is ten," he said, standing with his hands clasped on his chest. His hair was tousled on his forehead.

"Give me ten," Samaira said, handing him a hundred rupee note.

"Sister, which color do you want?" he asked, swaying back and forth.

"Whichever one you have," she smiled. He shyly went back to his table and returned with ten white roses, which he handed to Samaira. She took the roses and placed them on the table. The boy blushed and went back.

Soon after, Behram entered. Seeing Samaira, he walked over and pulled out the chair next to her, sitting down beside her.

"Why aren’t you sitting in front?" Samaira asked as she looked at him.

"I'll sit in front then," he said, standing up and sitting across from her.

"No, it's not necessary now," Samaira replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Who gave you these flowers?" Behram asked, pointing to the flowers on the table.

"These are for you," Samaira smiled and handed the flowers to Behran. "Every time you give something, this time I thought I’d give something."

"Thanks. Your first gift," he said, smelling the flowers and placing them down. "Shall we order coffee?" he added, signaling the waiter to bring two coffees.

"Are you busy today?" Behram asked, looking at her.

"No, not particularly busy," she replied, recalling her schedule in her mind.

"Then would you like to go out with me today? The weather is nice, and we can spend some time together," Behram suggested, typing a message to Furqan on his phone.

"Spend time today?" Samaira was surprised. "No, I can't," she laughed.

"Why not? We’ll enjoy ourselves and come back before evening," he tried to persuade her. The waiter placed two mugs of coffee in front of them.

"No, please... What will I tell at home?" Samaira removed her veil and sipped her coffee.

"Just say you're busy, or say there's a meeting," Behram suggested.

"I can’t lie," she took a deep breath.

"Not even for me?" he asked, looking disappointed. Samaira leaned back, closing her eyes.

"Please, Behram... I've lied for you many times already," she said tiredly. "What have you done about Junaid Bhai's case?" She suddenly remembered and leaned forward. Behram placed his phone on the table and took a sip of coffee.

"Yeah, I'll look into it. I'm busy right now," he said, sounding indifferent.

"When will you look into it? It's been a month and a half," she said sadly.

"Kashmala won’t agree. She doesn’t even trust Salman, and I’m just Behram," he said with a bitter smile, shaking his head. "Have you asked Kashmala?"

Samaira bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. Behram laughed.

"Forgot?" he asked. She opened her eyes and looked at him. 

"Actually, when I'm at home, Kashmala isn't there, and when Kashmala is home, I’m not there," she explained.

"Well, it’s okay," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. Then a silence fell. The fresh scent of the flowers on the table filled the air.

"Did you mention me to your family?" Behram asked after a moment of observing her.

"No..." Samaira said, raising her eyebrows. "I mean, yes... I only talked to my younger sister. I'll discuss it with Mom soon." She seemed confused.

"When will you do that?" he asked with a hint of annoyance.

"Very soon," Samaira said to avoid the issue. She was becoming nervous.

"Do you use the gifts I gave you?" Behram asked, glancing at her empty hands.

"Yes," she smiled.

"Where’s that ring then? It’s not visible," he said, his gaze still fixed on her hands. Samaira took out the chain she wore around her neck, revealing the ruby hanging from it. Behram smiled with satisfaction. Samaira’s phone rang; it was a call from Mahenoor. She declined it.

"Thanks..." Behram said, reaching out to hold Samaira’s hand.

"For what?" she asked, pulling her hand back and forcing a smile.

(Once we're married, I'll tell you everything.) "For everything." He said with affection.

Samaira got up, saying she was getting late, and began to leave. She paid the bill at the counter, picked up her umbrella, and stepped outside. Behram followed, holding the glass door open for her. As Samaira crossed to the other side of the street, Behram got into his car and drove away.

The car was now far off. Samaira's ten white roses were lying on the seat next to him. Behram, driving, gathered the flowers into his fist and took in their scent. A little further down the road, he stuck his arm out of the car window and threw the flowers onto the roadside. The white roses were crushed under the wheels of passing cars. In no time, they were smeared with mud.

Every night, that dark burden that crushed the heart,

Every morning, the light pierced like an arrow in the chest

It was evening. Aneesa had gone to pick up Gul-e-Lala from the academy but returned alone; he had decided to stay with others. Right in front were Mahenoor and Kabeer standing.

"Are you guys going somewhere?" Aneesa asked as she noticed Mahenoor, who was wrapped in a shawl with her bag slung over her shoulder.

"Yes. Didn't Gul-e-Lala come with you?" Mahenoor peeked over Aneesa's shoulder maybe he’s coming behind her.

"No, he'll be back by evening. But where are you guys going?"

"We're going to the doctor. No one's home, so you should lock the door," Mahenoor handed her the house keys. "We'll try to be back soon." She started to leave.

"Take me with you." Aneesa turned back.

"No, my dear," said Mahenoor as she walked away.

"Make sure to lock the door," Kabeer's last words echoed.

She locked the door and went to her room. After freshening up, she came out and opened the Quran to where she had left off. She flipped through the pages back and forth. A small slip of paper was placed inside. She picked it up.

"Hutama"

"What is this?" She read it. Samaira had written it. Now, with the Quran closed, she rested her arms on the table, laid her head on her arms, and stared at the Quran.

"Hutama, Hutama, Al-Hutama."

She repeated the word over and over in her mind.

"Allah'dhi..."

No, no... She shook her head.

"Al-Hutama"

کَلَّا لَیُنۡۢبَذَنَّ فِی الۡحُطَمَۃِ ۫﴿ۖ﴾

وَ مَاۤ اَدۡرٰىکَ مَا الۡحُطَمَۃُ ؕ﴿﴾

Suddenly, her tongue loosened, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Back so soon?" she checked the time. They had only left about ten minutes ago. Adjusting her dupatta, she walked out.

"Who is it?" She wanted to make sure before opening the door.

"It's me," a man's voice responded.

"Who’s 'me'?" she asked, slightly irritated.

"Tanveer... your fiancé. Open the door." He had arrived on his bike.

Aneesa was surprised.

"No one’s home. Come back later," she said bitterly, turning away.

"I need to talk to you alone," he said in a louder voice.

"Whatever it is, come back later. Please." She was firm and visibly annoyed.

"Okay."

Aneesa went back inside.

"Am I crazy?," she muttered as she sat on the armrest of the sofa in the lounge, resting her head. She lifted her head, closed her eyes, and rolled her neck in circles. When she opened her eyes, she saw Tanveer’s reflection in the glass vase in front of her. He was walking toward her, and before she knew it, he was inside the lounge.

"What are you doing here?" Aneesa stood up and glared at him with contempt.

"Don't worry, I just came to ask something." He sat down on the sofa and forcefully pulled her down beside him.

"Get out of here!" she yelled at him, her face flushed with anger. "How did you get in? Do you have no shame?"

"No, I don’t. What will you do about it?" he replied shamelessly, twisting her wrist.

"I'm sure Junaid Bhai must have given you a good lesson," she said with bitter laughter. He laughed too.

"Tell me, what were you doing at the club?" He pulled her hair. When Aneesa tried to stand up, Tanveer pushed her back down and leaned over her, yanking at her hair.

"I didn’t go to any club, you're lying!" she cried out in pain. "Let go of me!" She reached out for the vase nearby, but Tanveer twisted her wrist again. The vase fell to the floor with a crash, and she began to cry.

"Is anyone there?" she screamed, hoping someone from the neighborhood might hear her and come to help.

"What are you doing? Back off!" she shouted, using all her strength to push Tanveer away. She kicked him in the chest, causing him to stumble back. Quickly grabbing her dupatta and throwing it over her shoulder, she bolted towards the door. As she hurriedly unlocked the gate and rushed outside, Tanveer chased after her.

Now on the road, Aneesa was running with everything she had, while Tanveer followed closely on his bike. She kept running desperately, but as he got closer, she shoved him again with her shoulder, causing him to fall off the bike. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she ran even faster. Tanveer hurriedly got up and tried to start his bike again.

As Tanveer was about to catch up, another biker passed by, followed by a car that soon pulled over near Aneesa. Tanveer stopped and watched curiously.

"Is that you?" Behram lowered the car window. "In this state?"

Aneesa, gasping for breath, pointed towards Tanveer. Behram glanced in his side mirror and saw the man on the bike.

"Please, get inside," Behram said as he opened the car door and quickly dialed Furqan's number. Tanveer could only stand there and watch as the car sped away.

A few moments later, Behram stopped the car in front of a tall building.

"Where is this? I need to go home," Aneesa said, looking up at the towering structure.

"This is an agency office. Please get out of the car. You'll be given complete protection," Behram said as he got out of the car, and Aneesa followed suit. He led her into his office.

As soon as Nimra saw Behram, she greeted him. He acknowledged her and stepped into the elevator, with Aneesa right behind him. Standing in the elevator, Aneesa kept adjusting her dupatta on her head while casting suspicious glances at Behram, who was busy dialing a number on his phone.

"I don’t know what Mahenoor will do to me. Has she come back yet? And what about Abu? She’ll tell him everything. Ugh." Aneesa’s heart sank with worry.

The elevator stopped on the third floor.

"What's going on?" Behram was talking to someone on the phone. "Hurry up. I'm already here." Aneesa followed him into the office. As he sat down in his chair, he motioned for her to sit on the sofa. He placed a glass of water in front of her.

"Did you tell anyone about me?" she asked nervously.

"No, I just called my assistant. You don’t have to worry," he reassured her with a smile.

"I need to call Kashmala. Do you have her number?" she asked, standing up.

"Why do you need to call her?" Behram looked at her questioningly, thinking to himself, (This girl might ruin everything.)

"Tell her to come and take me away. My family must be looking for me by now. It's almost evening," she said, her face showing signs of distress.

"Just sit for a little while... we'll take you home ourselves," Behram tried to reassure her.

"No, don’t do me any favors. Just call Kashmala," she insisted.

The door opened, and Furqan entered, followed by Tanveer, along with Asfand and Shahmeer. Aneesa took a step back.

"Why are they here?" she asked Behram with disbelief.

"Please, take a seat," Behram gestured to her. Then, turning to the others, he asked sternly, "Where's the fourth one?"

"Sir, he’s headed to Mianwali," Furqan replied as he came to stand beside Behram. Tanveer glared at Aneesa with sharp, piercing eyes.

"So, what were you all doing at the club that night?" Behram’s eyes bore into the three of them as they stood with their heads bowed.

Aneesa's mind went numb. This meant everyone already knew she was involved in the murder.

"Sir, I wasn’t planning to go. They forced me," Shahmeer tried to shift the blame onto Tanveer and Asfand.

"No, sir, he's lying," Asfand defended himself.

"Then why did you kill Shahzaib?" Behram asked, his gaze fixed on Tanveer.

"I did?" Tanveer was stunned. Everyone in the room was taken aback. "I didn’t kill him," he said, stepping back in disbelief.

"You did kill him! I have clear evidence," Behram shouted.

Tanveer suddenly dashed towards the door, trying to open it, but it was locked. Furqan moved forward, but Behram gestured for him to stop. Tanveer, in a panic, ran back and grabbed Aneesa by the throat, trying to strangle her. Behram immediately left his chair and rushed forward. Aneesa fell onto the sofa, struggling and flailing her arms and legs. Behram forcefully pulled Tanveer away.

Furqan called the reception and instructed Nimra to come upstairs immediately.

"I didn't kill him, but I'll kill you!" Tanveer screamed.

Aneesa felt everything around her fading away as she struggled to breathe. Just then, a girl wearing a skirt that reached her knees approached her. She sat beside Aneesa on the sofa, gently laying her down and helping her drink water. Aneesa was gasping for air, finding it hard to breathe.

Meanwhile, Furqan stepped forward and cuffed Tanveer, taking the other two men outside before returning.

"I’ll kill her!" Tanveer kept lunging at Aneesa, but Behram pulled him back and started beating him severely. Nimra and Aneesa watched the scene unfold. Nimra held the glass to Aneesa’s lips, helping her drink. Tanveer, now lying on the floor, was groaning in pain. Behram, brushing off his coat and adjusting his tie, calmly returned to his chair.

"You said you'd take me home. I need to go home," Aneesa said, looking at Behram.

"First, tell me what the fight between Junaid and Tanveer was about," Behram asked, his gaze stern. He was well aware of the confrontation between Junaid and Tanveer that had taken place the day after the incident at the club.

"He insulted me," Tanveer muttered, writhing on the ground.

"Don't lie," Aneesa sat up, her voice sharp. "You were the one who insulted me first! You warned Junaid you would disgrace me in front of the whole world," she shouted.

"So Junaid hit you then?" Behram looked at Tanveer. He nodded in agreement.

"He only punched you, but you—? You went and shot him dead?" Behram scolded him angrily. Tanveer's mouth hung open in shock. "Why did you kill his wife?"

"I didn’t kill him. I didn’t, them." Tanveer began to cry.

"Should I press my foot on your neck? Should I show you what pain feels like?" Aneesa, now in tears, came close to him. Tanveer’s hands were cuffed behind his back. "Or should I stab your heart with a dagger... or give you poison?" she said, her eyes wet with tears, as she sat down beside him. "Swear at me. Go on, insult me," she suddenly demanded, her tone turning serious. "Insult me."

Tanveer looked at her, but he said nothing.

"An insult for an insult, a punch for a punch... honor for honor, and life for life."

"The law will take care of all that. Don’t take the law into your own hands," Behram said as he dialed a number on his phone, swinging back in his chair. She remained seated cross-legged, paying no attention to him.

"Hello... Kashmala, please come to the agency office. I need to discuss something with you." He ended the call.

"Kashmala is on her way. You can go home. We’ll handle everything from here," Behram addressed her, but she sat there as if she hadn’t heard him. "Nimra..." Behram gestured for Nimra to go to her.

"Ma’am," Nimra leaned down and placed a hand on her shoulder. Aneesa turned her head to look at her. Nimra had something hanging around her neck. She was a Christian. Aneesa, in a sudden fit of rage, grabbed the chain and pressed it into Tanveer’s chest. It all happened so quickly that no one could have anticipated it. Behram rushed to pull the chain from her hands. Due to the lack of a sharp edge, it only caused surface pain.

"What is this? Move her away!" Behram's patience snapped. Nimra yanked Aneesa back and slapped her.

"Girl, calm down," she glared at Aneesa angrily. Aneesa retreated, rubbing her hands together, her disheveled hair falling over her face.

The phone on the table started ringing.

"Hello." Behram put the receiver to his ear. "Yes, send her in." He walked over to Aneesa and stood beside her.

"Nimra, you can leave," Behram instructed, and she left the room while he sat down on the sofa. Furqan stood silently by the chair, still as a statue. Kashmala entered the room, stopping in her tracks as soon as she saw the scene. Her eyes filled with anger as she looked at Behram.

"Who brought my sister here?" she demanded, stepping forward and taking Aneesa’s hand.

"She came on her own. I needed to conduct an investigation," Behram replied, crossing one leg over the other and spreading his arms across the back of the sofa. Kashmala glanced down at Tanveer, who was lying on the floor, and then scanned the room.

"You've already done what you wanted to," she said, holding Aneesa's hand as she started to lead her out.

"Take the killer of Junaid with you as well, Miss Kashmala," Behram's words made Kashmala stop in her tracks.

"You...?" The words caught in her throat as Behram gestured towards Tanveer.

"Why?" she laughed bitterly, clearly overwhelmed.

"Were you aware of the fight between Junaid and him?" Behram asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Kashmala stood in shock. "You weren’t, were you?" he continued when she didn’t respond. "You could have just asked your sister," he added with a smirk.

Kashmala looked at Aneesa with disbelief, who had lowered her head.

"You should have told me earlier," Kashmala said with a heavy heart.

"Junaid bhai had forbidden me," Aneesa whispered.

"Whatever the reason... anyway, let it be. We'll all deal with this now," Behram said, taking a seat in the chair.

"Furqan, send him to jail. I think it's time now," Bahram said, hinting at the deception of Kashmala. He started gathering his things.

"Tomorrow’s newspaper will be a gift from me to you," he added with a smile before leaving with Kashmala.

Furqan led Tanveer out. Tanveer, in a dazed state, stumbled along.

"Come... let’s go," Kashmala said, taking Aneesa’s hand and leading her out.

If the bell of desire remains with us

Every breath will have the wings of the phoenix

Junaid and Madiha Murder Case

The newspaper headline clearly stated in big letters:

Justice for Blameless Couple

The identity of the killer of Junaid Khan and Madiha Ali, who were murdered on the night of December 31, has been revealed. The killer, Tanveer Niazi, has been taken into police custody. According to sources, Tanveer murdered Junaid and his wife due to a heated argument and personal enmity. The court has taken over the case.

Sources 

Behram stretched and smiled while reading the morning newspaper. Then he picked up his phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, Kashmala," he said with a smile.

"Yes, I've seen the newspaper," Kashmala sighed deeply. "You must need something."

He laughed heartily. Kashmala was standing on the balcony.

"Focus on the case for now. We’ll meet in court the day after tomorrow." He hung up and went to the wardrobe to pick out clothes before heading to the washroom.

☆☆☆☆☆

Tanveer's father, Liaqat, was sitting with Zakariya, trying to cool down the situation.

"We will give compensation, just save our son," they were pleading. "He did not commit the murder."

"How much enmity could there be that Junaid and our daughter were killed?" Shahroz complained.

"Be quiet, I'm speaking," Zakariya interrupted him. "Junaid also used to curse and he was also beaten by Junaid."

"It was because of your daughter," Liaqat said cautiously. Zakariya was still unaware of the matter involving Aneesa. As soon as he heard about it, he remained calm. "Alright, we will agree to the compensation. I accept." They immediately agreed, possibly valuing honor and wealth. They needed to maintain relations with the community.

"The more you speak, the more you will receive," Liaqat said, moving forward with a dignified tone.

"We will inform the court about everything that happened," Zakariya said as he embraced them and returned home.

"Dad, you have even put a price on your children," Shahroz said, bowing his head in sorrow.

"I haven't put a price; I'm following Islam. You always think I'm wrong. He is my son-in-law," Zakaria said, suddenly angry. Shahroz lifted his head sharply and looked at Zakariya.

"Will you still marry your daughter to him?" Shahroz asked, looking at Zakariya with disappointment. He did not expect this from his father.

"Yes. He is part of the family," Zakariya said, raising his hand.

"A sister’s honor can never tolerate marrying the killer of her brother. Even in death, she would not marry him."

“If she doesn’t marry him, she will see my dead face,” Zakariya declared with finality.

“Are there no other men in the world?” Shahroz asked helplessly.

“Consider it as such,” Zakariya said, and they left. Shahroz looked at Naheed, who was silently sitting on the cot. Sahira stood behind her.

“Mom, please make Father understand,” he pleaded, sitting at her feet.

“What should I explain? If Aneesa hadn’t gotten into a fight with Tanveer, there wouldn’t have been any trouble. If she hadn’t told Junaid, he wouldn’t have been killed,” Naheed placed all the blame on Aneesa.

“Mom, Junaid is dead, but Aneesa is your daughter. At least save her,” Shahroz said in a tearful voice. “It’s not her fault.”

Naheed shook off Shahroz’s hand and turned away.

“Are you leaving her alone?” Shahroz asked, turning his mother’s face towards him.

“She brought this upon herself,” Naheed shook off Shahroz’s hand again. Shahroz sat there, then got up and went to his room.

He closed the door, sat on a chair, and closed his eyes to calm himself. After a moment, he dialed Kashmala’s number. He rarely spoke to Kashmala and felt a moment of hesitation, but forcing himself, he made the call. The phone was answered on the first ring.

"Hello Shahroz, how are you?" she asked, while heading towards the court.

"Hello, I’m fine," he replied softly. "Kashmala, I needed to talk to you about something."

"Yes, go ahead," she said, keeping her eyes on the road, with a tired smile on her face.

"Can we meet? All of us?" Shahroz asked, knowing the likely response.

"Sure, why not. I’ll book a table," Kashmala said cheerfully.

"Okay. Thanks," Shahroz replied, satisfied.

Kashmala parked the car in front of the court. Behram was waiting for her. When she arrived, they both went to Justice Khaleel Bajwa’s office. He was leaning over his desk, cleaning his round glasses with a tissue. He straightened up and put the glasses on his eyes as he saw Kashmala and Behram.

"Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the chairs with a polite smile. Kashmala and Behram sat down on the chairs placed opposite each other.

"Is everything alright?" the Justice asked, looking at Kashmala, who had a weary expression on her face.

"Yes. I came here to discuss something regarding Junaid’s case," Kashmala said.

Behram sat silently, watching her.

"Yes, go ahead," Justice Khaleel said, leaning back in his chair.

"We don't want compensation; we..."

"Who is included in this 'we'?" Justice Khaleel interrupted.

"My one brother and three sisters. We do not want the matter to be settled with compensation," Kashmala said, raising her hand.

"But your father has agreed to compensation. And I believe he has already spoken with Tanveer's lawyer," Justice Khaleel said, removing his glasses and holding one arm of the glasses close to his lips.

"But he did not consult us. We are the heirs of Junaid. Look at this," Kashmala said, taking out a newspaper and placing it in front of him. Justice Khaleel put his glasses back on and looked at the newspaper.

"Hmmm. So what do you want?" 

"Tanveer should be hanged," she said firmly.

"Oh Kashmala... have some fear of God," Justice Khaleel laughed. Kashmala looked at him in astonishment. Behram, sitting beside her with his leg crossed, seemed not to be listening.

"Please, Kashmala, try to be a bit softer," Justice Khaleel chuckled again.

"Why? I’ve said I don’t want compensation. Two members of my family have been murdered by him, and he thinks he can escape by paying compensation? I won’t let that happen," Kashmala's voice grew louder.

"Okay. Then speak to his lawyer. I’m relieved of this matter," Justice Khaleel said, distancing himself from the case. He glanced at Behram and raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, I’ve informed you. If anything goes wrong the day after tomorrow, you will be responsible," Kashmala said, standing up. Behram was still seated. She gave them a stern look before leaving. Once the door closed, Behram turned to Justice Khaleel.

"What do you think will happen now?" Behram asked, leaning an arm on the desk.

"Please order!," Justice Khaleel replied gently.

"Hmmm." Behram started thinking. "Burhan will come out, right?" Behram took out a bundle of cash from his inner pocket and placed it on the desk.

"Hmmm. Take this," Justice Khaleel said, placing a file on the desk. "You’ll need to get Kashmala’s signature." He began to stroke his mustache.

"It will be done," Behram said, putting on his sunglasses, shaking hands, and standing up. He adjusted his coat and walked to the car. The courthouse was crowded. He saw Kashmala still there.

"What is this crafty vixen doing here?" he thought as he moved forward. He took pleasure in seeing Kashmala struggling. It was the first time he saw clear signs of defeat on her face. Kashmala was standing among the men, searching for someone.

"What is this lady still doing here?" Behram asked a man as he walked.

"She’s making a joke of herself. She was asking about some Irfan Siddiqui," the man said, laughing. "Come to the courthouse... She was looking for him."

"Irfan Siddiqui?" Behram was surprised.

"Yes. I don’t know who he is," the man said and moved on. Behram remembered Junaid's call to Kashmala and wondered if Junaid had given any information.

He approached Kashmala, tapping her on the shoulder, which made her turn towards him.

"What are you doing?" Behram asked, indicating that she should move aside.

"I’m looking for Tanveer's lawyer. I needed to tell him that we don’t want compensation," she explained as she walked.

(Crafty vixen.) "You could have just told me, and I would have brought him to you," he said, making Kashmala stop and look at him.

"You said you needed something from me. What is it?" Kashmala asked, examining his serious expression.

"Nothing specific," Behram said, starting to walk again.

"Then please convey my message to Barrister Aitaizaz for me," Kashmala said, walking alongside him.

"Sure. Any other instructions?" Behram asked seriously.

"No, one favor is enough for now," Kashmala said, casting a suspicious glance at him before getting into her car. She knew the journey ahead would be difficult.

In the gathering of friends, I found no peace

My heart is content since I’ve been sitting apart

Walking through the corridor, a large crowd of patients was visible. She, wearing a long black coat that reached her knees and a scarf covering her face with a veil, approached and sat on one of the benches placed in a forward-backward arrangement in front of a room labeled "Dr. Haroon Islam." Many people were waiting for their turn. Due to the cold, she had her hands placed between her knees and was repeatedly scrunching her nose, as if she had the flu. Right behind her sat Fateh, who was sitting with his head down and hands clasped.

"Sultan Muhammad Fateh," a man called out. He got up and went inside. This was his first meeting with Dr. Haroon Islam. The room was warm with a heater. It was a small room with Dr. Haroon seated in a large chair, Islamic books stacked on the table, and a stretcher in one corner. Fateh sat down in front of him. He looked at the doctor but didn't know what to say.

"Yes, son, what seems to be the problem?" The tone was soft and filled with sweetness. Fateh was left stunned, unable to respond.

"What is your name, my son?" the doctor asked.

"What do you do?" Dr. Haroon's gaze was fixed on Fateh, looking into his eyes.

"Come over here." He placed a stool in front of him, and Fateh sat directly in front of him. Dr. Haroon picked up a flashlight from the table and shone it into Fateh’s eyes.

"Your eyes are troubled," he said, smiling with his lips pressed together.

"And the heart?" Fateh placed his hand on his heart.

"Light enters the heart through the eyes; what the eyes see is what the heart absorbs." Dr. Haroon placed the flashlight back on the table and turned to Fateh. "Name and profession?"

"My name is Sultan Muhammad Fateh. I am currently attending the academy. My studies are complete, but I left my MPhil degree in its final stages."

"What degree?" He cleared his throat slightly.

"Political Science and Criminal Law," Fateh said, lifting his face.

"Good. What is your life's motto?"

"I am currently attending the academy. I will join the Civil Service in July."

"Age?" He cut a slip from a pad.

"Twenty-two years." Silence followed.

"Show me your nails," the doctor instructed. Fateh extended the back of his hands. The nails were neatly trimmed and pink. His hands were clean, with a smooth back and long fingers. He then placed his hands on his knees. The doctor checked his heartbeat. It was fast.

"How is your diet?"

"The diet is healthy."

"I'm asking about the diet of the heart," the doctor smiled. Fateh lowered his head, and his eyes filled with tears. Soon, a drop of water rolled down his arm.

"It's okay. I'm here," Dr. Haroon said, taking Fateh's hand and placing it close to his own heart. "Speak whatever you need to; I'm listening." Fateh needed someone who would listen to him. People often left after hearing only half of what was said, leaving the heart’s feelings unsaid. Fateh lifted his face and looked at Dr. Haroon. He smiled, holding Fateh's hand firmly and close to his heart.

"I want to forget my old life forever, but I just can't. I want to forget all the past things, those sins... that desire within me, but still, somewhere inside, my heart takes steps toward sin. Every day I say, 'Just a little today. Just a little.' Then I return. I’m afraid. Guidance doesn’t come to me. If I want to cry in front of someone, I can’t. I can’t tell anyone at home. I cry at night, but no one is there with me. I am tired." He bent down and lay his head in Dr. Haroon’s lap.

"And then?" Dr. Haroon asked, gently patting his back.

"I have so much to say. Time is short. How long will you listen to me? My list of sins is long, my desires, my inner self has gone very far away." Fateh lifted his head from Dr. Haroon’s lap and placed his other hand in Dr. Haroon’s hand.

"It’s a matter of a single glance; a glance can both bring light and take it away." Dr. Haroon smiled gently. "Nothing happens instantly. Take small steps forward and remember. Don’t look back. Keep moving forward. When you move far into the light, hold on to those behind you. This will open more doors to light. Trust in this." He placed his hand on Fateh's head. Closing his eyes in devotion, Dr. Haroon released Fateh’s hand and picked up a pen, writing something on a page.

"Do you read the Quran?" he asked, looking at Fateh.

"I am a Hafiz," Fateh replied, sitting with his hands folded on his chest.

"Ma sha Allah. That makes it easier for you." Dr. Haroon cut the page and handed it to Fateh.

He picked up the receiver, put it to his ear, and said, "Please send Samaira Noor in five minutes. Peace be upon you." He hung up the phone.

Fateh glanced at Dr. Haroon and then opened the page. It was not medicine, but a prayer.

"Is there anything else you would like to say?" Dr. Haroon asked as he observed Fateh sitting there.

"Yes. I also want peace. The kind of peace that you have on your face."

"Certainly." Dr. Haroon sat up straight. "You need to read this" (he pointed to the page Fateh was holding) "before going to bed. Take a page... write down all your bad habits on it... and repeat them while looking at yourself in the mirror. No matter how you see yourself, don't tell me about it. Tell Allah. Understand?" He gently placed his hand on Fateh's cheek.

The door knocked, and a girl wearing a long coat that reached her knees entered. Fateh stood up. His gaze was fixed on the girl’s eyes, and he remained still. She nonchalantly sat down in a chair.