His name was Zayaan. A boy—yes, just a boy. At 21, he had no family, no siblings, and his parents had died years ago. Now, he lived in Islamabad with his uncle. A cruel man, the kind of guardian no child deserved.
Zayaan wasn't bad, but life had forced him to build a shield around himself. A wall so high, no one could ever climb it. Behind that wall, hidden from the world, lived a soft-hearted boy who once cried for love but had long forgotten how to.
To the world, Zayaan had proved himself as a rude, arrogant, and cold person. But who knew the truth? No one—not because they couldn't, but because no one ever cared to look deeper. No one had the time, and Zayaan never allowed anyone to come close.
At university, there was only one person besides his childhood friend who saw him differently Sir Bashar, his professor. A man Zayaan respected. Still, Raim, his childhood friend, remained the only person who truly knew him. Raim came from a joint family, surrounded by love and laughter, and somehow became Zayaan's only emotional support. The only person who saw the soft side Zayaan kept hidden from the world.
But there was one unanswered question that haunted Zayaan every night—how did his family die? His uncle never spoke about it. All he had left was a small locket, once his mother's, discovered hidden in a cupboard. Every other trace of his family had been erased by his uncle, as if they had never existed.
CHAPTER 1
The cinema:
One day, Zayaan was at the cinema with his friend. As always, the locket stayed safely in his right pocket. The movie ended around 9 PM. When Zayaan stepped outside, a strange emptiness struck him—his right pocket was empty. The locket was gone.
Panic washed over him. He tried to rush back inside, but the staff blocked his way. He requested, then pleaded, and eventually begged just for one chance to go back and look for it. His hands shivered, his body trembled, but they didn't let him in.
Desperation took over. When they refused again, Zayaan lost control—he harshly punched one of the managers and began shouting madly. Security called the police, and within minutes, Zayaan found himself locked inside a jail cell, broken and helpless.
That night was a nightmare. The police tortured him before calling his uncle. His uncle came, paid the fine, and dragged Zayaan home. Zayaan's body ached from the beatings, but the cruelty didn't stop there. His uncle slapped him across the face—again and again—shouting furiously.
When Zayaan managed to explain, his uncle snapped, "I don't know what's wrong with you! It was just a locket, you should have let it go!"
Tears burned in Zayaan's eyes as he shouted back, "Then why? Why don't you just tell me how my family died? Why, uncle? Don't I even have the right to know that? That locket… it was the last thing connected to my mother!"
His uncle's face twisted in rage. He grabbed Zayaan's collar, pulling him close, and snarled, "Just shut up! Yes, you have no right to ask me anything!" and with a rough push, sent Zayaan crashing to the floor.
Zayaan lay there for a moment, then stumbled to his feet and ran to his room. He fell onto his bed and, without knowing, drifted into a painful sleep that lasted the whole day.
Night fell. His phone rang. It was Sir Bashar, his professor, calling to guide him with exams approaching fast. Zayaan struggled to get up; his body throbbed with pain. Still, knowing the importance of his exams, he pushed himself.
Sir Bashar lived alone—his wife and children stayed abroad. When Zayaan explained everything, his professor consoled him gently, offering both medicine and comfort. "Dear, I understand your feelings," Sir Bashar said softly, "but you are not alone. I promise you, I'm always here for you."
After a few hours of studying, Zayaan returned home in the morning. His uncle stood waiting at the door.
"Where were you?" the uncle asked coldly.
"That's none of your business. I'm not a kid anymore," Zayaan replied rudely, his voice sharp, his heart heavier than ever.
CHAPTER 2:
The trip
A few weeks later, Zayaan's exams finally ended, but the uneasiness in his heart remained. The loss of the locket still haunted him. His friends had been planning a trip, and after some convincing, Zayaan agreed to join them.
Weeks passed, and they finally reached a northern area, a quiet and beautiful place, far from the chaos of the city. They booked a hotel room, just the three of them together.
That night, Zayaan couldn't sleep. His heart felt heavy, his mind restless, stuck on the memories of the lost locket. Hoping to clear his head, he stepped out of the hotel for a walk, wandering aimlessly in the cool night air. Lost in his painful thoughts, he didn't notice a car approaching.
In a flash, everything went black. He had dashed into a car and passed out.
Three hours later, Zayaan opened his eyes in a nearby hospital. His head pounded slightly, but his gaze shifted to a girl standing near him, paying his hospital bills. She walked up to him, her tone soft, "How are you feeling now?"
"Better," Zayaan replied quietly.
He quickly called his friends, and soon they arrived, taking him back to the hotel. Exhausted, Zayaan lay down but felt something strange pressing against his side. Reaching into his pocket, his fingers brushed against something familiar.
His heartbeat quickened. He pulled out the small item—it was his mother's locket.
Shocked and overwhelmed, he jumped off the bed and hugged his friend tightly. His eyes widened with wonder. Where had it come from? Who had returned it to him?
His thoughts immediately turned to the girl at the hospital. Could it be her?
The next day, determined to find answers, Zayaan set out in search of her. He asked the hospital staff, the locals, anyone who might have seen her. But despite all his efforts, there was no sign of her—no name, no clue, no luck.
CHAPTER 3:
The welcome party
Days passed, and Zayaan returned home, but his mind couldn't escape the mystery surrounding the locket. The unanswered questions lingered, silently eating at him. Soon, a new semester began, and juniors got admitted. Their welcome party was scheduled for the weekend.
Zayaan and his only friend, Raim, had decided not to attend the event. However, Professor Bashar convinced them otherwise, so reluctantly, they agreed to go.
The day of the party arrived. Zayaan dressed in his classic black suit. His hair, messy as always, still managed to suit him effortlessly. He sprayed his favorite perfume, strapped on his expensive watch, wore his finest pair of shoes, and carefully tucked the precious locket into his pocket.
He was already late by the time he reached the party. Everyone else had gathered, music played in the background, and students mingled. As he scanned the room, his gaze stopped—at the corner stood a girl, tall and graceful, long hair flowing, heavenly eyes gleaming under the lights. She wore a beautiful pink frock.
It was her.
The girl from the hospital.
Zayaan's heartbeat quickened. He felt nervous—talking to girls was not his thing. The party went on, but his focus stayed fixed. Finally, when everyone began to leave, Zayaan gathered some courage and walked toward her.
"Your name?" he asked, his voice calm but his heart racing.
"Zaynah," she replied softly, her voice as beautiful as her appearance.
He looked directly into her eyes & asked about the locket.
"Zayaan," she interrupted gently, "the night you were hit by my car, I called the ambulance. You were unconscious… but while we waited, a man appeared. He was with you. Before you woke up, he left. He was sitting close to you."
Zayaan's eyes narrowed. "Who was he?"
Zaynah sighed. "I don't know. He didn't tell me his name. He looked tall, like you… maybe around 50 or a bit older. That's all I know."
Zayaan stood still for a few moments, absorbing her words. His lips pressed together, and after a brief silence, he whispered, "Thank you."
Without another word, he turned around, opened his car door, and drove off, his thoughts swirling like a storm.
Midway, he stopped at a quiet café and called Professor Bashar. They sat across each other, steaming cups in front of them.
"I'm leaving the university," said Professor Bashar suddenly.
Zayaan's eyes widened in shock. "But why… why so suddenly?"
"I might explain later," the professor replied, his tone unreadable.
Already burdened, Zayaan felt a fresh wave of unease wash over him. He drove back home, silent the entire way.
Inside his room, Zayaan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring into his own eyes. His reflection stared back, but the questions inside him grew louder. He splashed water on his face, trying to calm his racing thoughts, changed his clothes, and lay on his bed. Sleep refused to come.
Eventually, he gave in and took sleeping pills. Their effect was so strong that he missed his class the next day.
Evening fell by the time he woke up, head heavy, body sluggish. He dragged himself to the kitchen in search of food, only to find his uncle standing there, a cup of tea in hand.
"What's wrong with you, Zayaan? Who told you to skip university today?" his uncle's voice was sharp, accusing.
"It wasn't on purpose. I just… couldn't wake up," Zayaan replied, trying to keep his voice even.
"Seriously?" his uncle snapped, anger rising. "Are you still a child? You need someone to wake you every day? Look at yourself!"
Zayaan clenched his jaw. He closed the fridge door harder than necessary, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. His uncle didn't stop scolding. The frustration inside Zayaan boiled over. He threw the glass down near his uncle's feet. It shattered on the floor, echoing through the house.
For a moment, there was silence.
Zayaan grabbed his car keys and stormed out. Driving fast, hands gripping the wheel, thoughts clouding his mind, his eyes caught something on the roadside—
Zaynah, struggling with her damaged car.
CHAPTER 4:
The damaged car:
On his way, Zayaan spotted Zaynah by the roadside, struggling with her damaged car. Without hesitation, he stepped out, called a nearby mechanic, and arranged for her car to be towed. While waiting, he asked, "Do you want me to drop you home?"
Zaynah nodded with a grateful smile. On the way, Zayaan learned that she lived in a flat with her mother.
Curiosity got the better of him. "What were you doing in the northern area that day?" he asked.
Zaynah smiled softly. "Actually, it was my first time here in Pakistan. I was born in America and lived there all my life. I just wanted to explore."
Zayaan hesitated for a moment before asking, "If you don't mind… why did you and your mother come back to Pakistan?"
Zaynah's expression changed slightly. "I don't know… it was just Mama's decision," she replied calmly, looking out of the window.
When they reached her flat, Zayaan told her, "You'll get your car back by tomorrow morning."
Zaynah thanked him with a polite smile and went inside.
Zayaan, feeling restless, didn't want to go back home. He called his friend Raim instead. Raim hopped into the passenger seat, and after a few minutes, he suddenly burst into laughter.
"Bro… why do you have girly stuff in your car?" Raim teased, holding up a pink hair clip.
Zayaan glanced at it, smiled calmly, and said, "That belongs to Zaynah. It must have fallen from her hair when she got out."
Raim wiggled his eyebrows. "What was she doing in your car, huh?"
Zayaan briefly explained what had happened, and Raim just grinned the whole time.
Afterward, both of them headed to eat since Zayaan hadn't eaten anything since morning. They had a good meal, shared some laughs, and finally went home.
—
Two weeks passed.
Zayaan, Zaynah, and Raim were sitting in the university library one afternoon when another girl approached their table. She had a cheerful smile and a friendly vibe. "Mind if I sit with you guys?" she asked politely.
They nodded, and she sat down. "I'm Aizel," she introduced herself, "I'm from a middle-class family. Well… I heard there's going to be a university trip to Lahore soon, so I thought… it'd be fun to join you guys. Maybe we can be friends."
"Of course!" Raim said immediately, grinning. "I think you'll be really good company."
Zayaan and Zaynah also welcomed her warmly, cracking some funny jokes to make her feel comfortable.
And just like that, a new friendship quietly formed…
CHAPTER 5
The tour:
The university trip to Lahore was filled with excitement. Zayaan, Zaynah, Raim, and Aizel checked into a hotel where a peaceful park lay just across the street. That evening, Zaynah and Aizel strolled through the park. The air was cool, birds chirped in the distance, and children's laughter filled the space. Zaynah admired some roses nearby, inhaling their fresh scent, while Aizel watched the children play.
Suddenly, Raim showed up, a mischievous smile on his face. "Guess what… it's Zayaan's birthday tonight," he whispered. The three of them instantly started planning a surprise for midnight.
At exactly 12 AM, Zaynah and Aizel were ready, balloons and cake set up at the birthday spot. Raim arrived shortly after, leading Zayaan in, blindfolded. As soon as the cloth came off his eyes, everyone clapped and sang the birthday song. Zayaan was completely surprised and for a while, they all laughed, took pictures, and enjoyed the moment.
But the happiness was short-lived. Zaynah's phone rang. It was a call from the hospital.
Her hands trembled as she answered. Her face turned pale. Her mother's condition had worsened. She was critical.
Zayaan quickly stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Calm down… we'll get there," he said gently. Without wasting time, he called the university management to arrange early transportation back.
The four friends quickly left Lahore, returning to the station where a car was waiting. They rushed straight to the hospital.
Moments later, the doctor approached Zayaan, his face grim. "She's no more," the doctor said quietly.
Zaynah's legs gave out beneath her. Zayaan caught her before she could fall, lifting her gently and taking her to the car.
The next day, after the funeral, Aizel stayed by Zaynah's side, comforting her through the heavy silence of grief.
A few days later, while Zaynah was asleep, Aizel whispered into her phone, "Mama, Zaynah's going back to America… I'll stay with her a few more days and then return."
Suddenly, Zaynah jolted awake from a nightmare. Her face was pale with fear—she had seen her mother in her dream. Aizel immediately rushed to her, holding her hand and comforting her through the panic.
Shortly after, Zaynah packed her things and left for America, deciding to continue her studies there. Time passed, and all three—Zayaan, Raim, and Aizel—fell into a heavy, distant silence that lasted for months.
CHAPTER 6
The guests:
Months passed, and life had only grown more unsettling. One evening, Sir Basher showed up at Zayaan's doorstep, requesting to meet him. Zayaan, already wary, refused to let him inside. Sir Basher's next question left him puzzled: "Is your uncle home?" Zayaan replied his uncle was out of town.
Confused, Zayaan immediately called Raim and Aizel to join him at home. They all gathered in the living room, trying to make sense of Sir Basher's visit. Shortly after, Raim needed to use the washroom, and Zayaan accompanied him upstairs. Moments later, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the house.
Rushing downstairs, they found Aizel lying lifeless on the floor. Beside her stood Zayaan's uncle with a pistol, and shockingly, Sir Basher sat calmly in a chair.
Something inside Zayaan snapped. Rage consumed him as he grabbed his uncle by the collar, delivering heavy slaps before throwing him to the floor. His voice broke as he yelled, "You are behind everything! You… you are responsible for my family's death! What's wrong with you?!"
The police arrived quickly, arresting his uncle. Sir Basher surprisingly helped Zayaan and Raim arrange Aizel's funeral. It was a dark time—Aizel's death shattered their small circle of friends. Zayaan's home turned eerily quiet, his mind spiraled with guilt and anger. Nights passed without sleep. One day, while driving recklessly, Zayaan tried ending it all by crashing his car. But Sir Basher's timely call stopped him.
Sir Basher invited him home, calmed him down, and gave him medicines for anxiety. Zayaan fell into a deep sleep. But during the night, faint voices stirred him. He overheard Sir Basher on a phone call, "Kill him as soon as possible, I don't want Iqbal Asghar (Zayan's uncle) alive anymore."
Zayaan's heavy eyelids tried to open but the medicines were too strong. He remained paralyzed until midday. When he finally mustered strength, he confronted Sir Basher who was busy packing.
"Where are you going?" Zayaan asked suspiciously.
Sir Basher casually replied, "Oh, you're awake! I'm leaving for Lahore… got some work."
Zayaan's heart raced. His instincts told him something was off. Mustering courage, he questioned Sir Basher about the phone call.
Sir Basher simply shrugged. "Don't you want him dead? He's a terrible man," he said with a cold smile.
Confused and emotionally exhausted, Zayaan called Zaynah in America. She too was struggling after the loss of her mother and Aizel.
"I'm coming back to Pakistan," she said firmly, "I need to see you and Raim."
A week later, the three of them sat together, trying to piece things together. Talk shifted to Aizel's murder, and Raim pulled out a photo of Zayaan's uncle.
Zaynah's face turned pale. "It's… it's the same man," she stammered.
Raim blinked in shock. "Who? What do you mean?"
Zaynah explained, "Zayaan… the day you were hit by my car outside the hospital… I saw this man… your uncle. He put back your locket, kissed your forehead, answered a phone call, and left."
Zayaan's mind spun in circles. His jaw clenched. "Are you crazy? What are you saying?" his voice cracked between anger and confusion.
Nothing made sense anymore.
CHAPTER 7
The Court:
The day had arrived—a crucial day when the court was to decide whether Iqbal Asghar, Zayaan's uncle, would face execution or spend the rest of his life behind bars. Zayaan desperately wanted Sir Basher, his professor, to be present as the key witness, but the professor was nowhere to be found. The courtroom murmured restlessly, judges and officials waiting for Sir Basher to arrive. Hours passed—he didn't come.
Eventually, the court summoned Zayaan, asking him to personally bring Sir Basher to testify. Before leaving, Zayaan's uncle requested one last conversation. Reluctantly, the court permitted it.
Inside the small room, Iqbal's weak, tortured frame sat across Zayaan.
"Why did you take back my locket?" Zayaan asked coldly.
With a faint, broken voice, Iqbal replied, "Because I knew… how precious it was to you… later that night I went to the cinema, paid my way inside… found it… and placed it back in your pocket. I never wanted you to lose it."
Zayaan's eyes narrowed, his voice cracked. "Why did you kill Aizel then… why?"
Iqbal held his gaze, eyes tired but determined. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke:
"That day… when Basher came to our house… I wasn't supposed to be there. My plan was canceled halfway… I returned home… and there he was… in our living room."
His voice trembled, remembering, "I shouted at him… 'You! What are you doing here near my nephew?! He's innocent! He knows nothing!' I told him… you killed his parents, his siblings… I saved Zayaan that day… you would have killed him too… and now you come back for him."
Zayaan's heart pounded against his chest.
Iqbal continued, "Aizel was there… standing behind… she heard it all. She knew the truth… Basher panicked… she yelled 'You murderer!'… and Basher… he shot her. I pulled my pistol in shock… but by the time you came… he had hidden his gun… you thought it was me."
Zayaan's throat went dry. He staggered backward, his mind replaying every moment, every misunderstanding. The only man he trusted—Sir Basher—was the actual murderer. Iqbal was the only one who protected him all along.
Iqbal coughed, whispering, "Basher wanted me dead… because I was the last person who knew the truth…"
Zayaan couldn't take it anymore. He left the room, mind swirling with rage, confusion, and guilt. Outside, he found Raim and poured his heart out, telling him everything.
Without wasting a second, they began searching for Basher Momin, but news came fast—Sir Basher had fled Pakistan.
He had vanished, escaping justice.
Everything Zayaan knew… was a lie.
CHAPTER 8
Zaynah's backstory:
Zaynah was sitting alone on the rooftop, lost in thoughts about her father, Yawar Malik's death. She eventually got up, searching through old photographs. Just then, Zayaan and Raim called her downstairs for lunch, hoping to help her feel better. Zaynah took one photo with her and went to meet them.
Zayaan casually took the photo from her hand but was immediately shocked—it showed Yawar Malik standing right next to Hussain Asghar, Zayaan's father.
"So they were friends," Raim remarked, the realization sinking in.
A heavy silence fell over them.
Zayaan finally asked, "Tell me… anything you know about your father?"
Zaynah nodded slowly, "Mama always mentioned some enemies… names of people who might have been behind his sudden death… and one of those names was… Basher Momin."
"What?" Zayaan jumped up, stunned.
It all made sense now. Zayaan told Zaynah everything—about Aizel's murder, his own family's death, the lies, and the deception.
Everything was finally revealed: Professor Basher Momin was behind it all.
CHAPTER 9
The revenge:
Zayaan, Zaynah, and Raim went to court to get Iqbal (Zayaan's uncle) released. After revealing the truth, they found out Iqbal had been tortured so much that his existing illness worsened, and he had to be shifted to the hospital immediately.
Fueled by rage, Zayaan shouted, "Basher, I won't let you live!" He soon learned that Basher Momin was hiding somewhere in Lahore. Without hesitation, Zayaan left his friends with his uncle and went hunting for Basher with a pistol in his hand.
After intense searching, Zayaan found Basher in a random flat, broke down the door, pinned him to the ground, and pointed the pistol at his head. "Tell me everything or I'll shoot!" he demanded.
Basher had no choice left. He confessed—
When Zayaan was born, he had an elder sister and brother. His father, Hussain Asghar, and Yawar Malik (Zaynah's father) were business partners. Basher Momin, a rival businessman and professor, killed both Hussain Asghar and Yawar Malik. Zayaan's mother, siblings, and other family members were also murdered. Zayaan, just 3 years old, was saved by his uncle Iqbal, while Zaynah's mother fled abroad with Zaynah, still an infant.
Zayaan realized with horror that he had wrongfully blamed his uncle—the only person who had saved and protected him. Meanwhile, Basher had tried to get close to Zayaan all these years to manipulate and eventually kill him.
Overwhelmed with anger, Zayaan hit Basher's head against the wall multiple times until Basher appeared dead. Terrified, Zayaan called Raim in panic and fled back to Islamabad.
Later, Zayaan reunited with his uncle, broke down in tears, and hugged him tightly. He confessed to Raim and Zaynah, "I killed him." Everyone was shocked, but Zayaan, despite the fear of imprisonment, felt peace—because at least he had taken revenge.
CHAPTER 10
The final chapter:
Zaynah was at the airport, ready to leave for America, when she spotted Bashar Momin alive. She immediately called Zayaan and Raim, confronted Bashar, and the police were brought in. Bashar was arrested, having faked his death earlier to avoid being taken to the police. Justice was finally served.
Zayaan convinced Zaynah to stay in Pakistan and complete her studies.
Life became peaceful—Zayaan, Zaynah, and Raim all graduated after five years. Raim left for a job abroad, while Zayaan and Zaynah got settled in their careers.
One day, over coffee, Zaynah nervously confessed her feelings to Zayaan and asked if he would marry her. Zayaan jokingly replied "Not at all why would I," but quickly revealed he was joking and agreed happily. They informed Zayaan's uncle, who agreed immediately.
Three months later, their wedding was celebrated joyfully. Although Raim initially said he couldn't attend because of an exam, he surprised them by showing up at the wedding. Everyone celebrated together. Later, Raim also got married to one of his cousins.
~ Anna Sajjad