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Author pov
The Afternoon light spread its golden rays across the small, muddy houses of Multan, touching them one by one with a soft warmth. The narrow streets were beginning to wake up, carrying the peaceful sounds of a new day. Everything looked simple yet beautiful in its own way—far away from the noise and rush of the city. There was a certain peace in the simplicity of those little houses, as if life here moved at its own gentle pace.
And a little away from those modest houses stood a magnificent old palace, known as Nawabs Mahal.
The historic palace rose proudly against the morning sky, its grand architecture carrying the charm of another era. Today, however, the old palace looked even more beautiful than usual. Fresh flowers decorated its entrances and balconies, while strings of warm lights were wrapped around its ancient walls. Colorful fabrics and floral arrangements added a festive touch to the royal surroundings. It was obvious that something special was being celebrated inside.
The entire Nawabs Mahal seemed to be dressed in happiness.
The view slowly moved upward until it reached one of the palace windows, which stood wide open, allowing the soft morning breeze to enter the room. In front of the mirror stood a young girl, quietly looking at her reflection. She was dressed in a simple baby-pink shalwar kameez, the delicate color making her look even softer and more innocent. Her dupatta was perfectly arranged over her head and shoulders, covering her head and chest modestly.
She had a slightly chubby body and a round, chubby face. She wasn't the kind of girl people would immediately call breathtakingly beautiful, but there was something naturally attractive about her—something warm and innocent that made her presence memorable. Especially her eyes. They were bright and shining with happiness, excitement, and countless little hopes for the future.
Today was her day.
Her most beautiful and special day.
She looked at herself in the mirror for a few seconds before a shy smile slowly appeared on her lips. Her fingers nervously played with the edge of her dupatta as butterflies fluttered inside her stomach. Today I'm really getting married… The thought alone made her heart beat faster. To him. Her childhood love. The person she had grown up knowing, the person whose name had somehow always held a special place in her heart.
She lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling shy even though she was completely alone in the room.
Just then, her eyes fell on the phone lying on the dressing table. She picked it up and unlocked the screen, only to notice the first name staring back at her.
Haya.
A soft smile immediately touched her lips.
"My little sister…" she whispered fondly.
She opened the message, and a childish, apologetic text appeared on the screen.
Sorry dii, I can't come with Mom and Dad. You know na, I want to wear superb clothes to wear at my superb sweet dii's wedding, so I will come tomorrow. Promise, pakka promise! And please don't be angry with me. 🥺
She read the message twice, and her smile only grew wider. A tiny laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head.
"Pagal larki…" she murmured affectionately. "Apni sister ki shaadi se zyada kapron ki fikar hai isay."
There was no anger in her voice. Only love.
She really is still a child, she thought with a soft smile. But that's my Haya… meri choti si pagal behen.
She placed the phone against her chest for a moment, her heart feeling strangely full. Even though Haya wasn't there that morning, knowing that her little sister was excited enough to plan her "superb clothes" for the wedding made her smile.
Nothing was going to ruin her mood today.
After all, today was too special.
She was going to marry the boy she had loved since childhood.
Her cheeks immediately warmed at the thought, and she quickly looked away from her own reflection as if the mirror itself had caught her secret.
"Ya Allah…" she whispered shyly, touching her cheek. "Aaj ka din bas khushi khushi guzarna chahiye."
Just then, her mother's voice came from outside the room.
"Beta! Neeche aa jao!"
She immediately straightened herself.
"Ji, Ammi! Aa rahi hoon!"
She quickly locked her phone and placed it inside her small bag. Giving herself one last glance in the mirror, she adjusted her dupatta carefully over her head and shoulders. A nervous yet beautiful smile appeared on her lips.
This is really happening.
Her heart fluttered again.
"Bismillah…" she whispered softly.
Then she opened the door and stepped outside, walking through the grand corridors of Nawabs Mahal to begin the most special morning of her life—completely unaware of how much this day was about to change everything.
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The afternoon in Islamabad was alive with the usual rush of people, bright lights, music, and the endless movement of shoppers. Inside one of the city's biggest malls, Haya walked confidently through the crowd, her phone held casually in one hand while an ice cream cone rested in the other. A happy, proud smile was spread across her face, the kind of smile that clearly said she had accomplished something very important.
And what was that important achievement?
After almost shopping half the mall, she was finally satisfied.
Finally… I think I've bought everything.
She took another bite of her ice cream, looking completely pleased with herself. Her eyes wandered over the shopping bags surrounding her, and a tiny smile appeared again.
Okay… maybe I bought a little too much.
She immediately dismissed the thought.
But what's the point of coming to a mall if you don't shop?
A few steps behind her, however, was her poor brother, Asim.
His face looked completely exhausted, his hair slightly messy, and both of his hands were filled with so many shopping bags that it was becoming difficult for him to carry them all. Every few steps, one bag slipped lower in his fingers, forcing him to adjust everything again.
And behind Asim were his five guards.
Their condition wasn't any better.
Each of them was carrying multiple shopping bags, and judging from their tired faces, they had probably started questioning every decision that had led them to this mall.
Asim stopped for a second and looked down at the bags in his hands.
"Yeh shopping thi ya pura mall khareedna tha?" he muttered under his breath.
One of the guards quietly glanced at her before saying, "Sir, I think princess is still not done."
Asim slowly closed his eyes.
Ya Allah… mujhe sabr de.
Before he could say anything else, a familiar cheerful voice came from ahead.
"Bhai! Walk fast na!"
Asim lifted his head.
There she was.
His princess.
Haya was walking ahead of him as if the entire mall belonged to her. One hand held her phone, the other her half-finished ice cream, while her shopping bags had conveniently become someone else's problem.
Asim stared at her with a completely done expression.
For a moment, he said nothing.
He simply looked at her.
Haya turned around while walking backward and raised her eyebrows. "What?"
Asim's expression remained unchanged.
"Nothing."
"Then walk fast," she complained, turning around again. "You're so slow, bhai."
Asim let out a tired sigh.
"Princess, tumhare bags uthaye hue hain. Thora reham kar lo."
Haya giggled. "Aww, poor bhai."
"Poor bhai?" Asim repeated incredulously. "Poor bhai ke haath dekho."
Haya glanced at his hands and burst out laughing.
"Okay, okay. Sorry."
But the smile on her face made it obvious that she wasn't sorry at all.
Asim shook his head, unable to stop a small smile from appearing.
No matter how much she exhausted him, she was still his little sister.
His princess.
And for her, he could tolerate almost anything.
They continued walking through the crowded mall, Haya happily enjoying her ice cream while Asim and the guards struggled behind her. She was completely lost in her own little world when suddenly she stopped.
Her smile disappeared.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh no…"
Asim immediately noticed.
"What happened?"
Haya looked down at the phone, then at the ice cream and finally toward the direction they had just come from.
"I forgot something."
Asim's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
Haya slowly turned toward him and gave him the most innocent smile she could manage.
"Bhai…"
Asim immediately became suspicious.
"Haya."
She swallowed.
"I think… I forgot my credit card."
His expression changed instantly.
"Where?"
"In the changing room."
There was a brief silence.
Asim stared at her.
Haya gave him a nervous smile.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Tumhara card changing room mein reh gaya?"
She nodded slowly.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Okay… yes."
Asim rubbed his forehead.
Of course. Of course she had forgotten something as always.
Haya quickly stepped closer and said, "I'll just go back and get it. Two minutes. Promise."
Asim looked at her with warning eyes.
"Haya, don't wander around alone."
"I'm not wandering. I'm going back to the same store."
"And you know how crowded this place is."
"I know, bhai."
She gave him another nervous smile before adding softly, "Please? Aap yahan bags car mein rakh dein. Main bas jaa kar card leti hoon aur wapas aa jaungi."
Asim hesitated.
He clearly didn't like the idea.
His eyes moved toward the crowd and then back to his sister.
"Fine," he finally said. "But take care of yourself, okay? And come back quickly."
Haya's face immediately brightened.
"Promise!"
Asim pointed a finger at her. "Aur phone apne paas rakhna."
She held up her phone.
"Already here."
"Good. Aur agar koi problem ho—"
"I'll call you."
Asim nodded. "Exactly."
Haya smiled and stepped backward.
"Okay, bhai. See you in a few minutes."
"Fast."
"Yes, sir!"
She turned around and started walking back toward the store, her dupatta and hair moving lightly with each step.
Asim watched her disappear farther into the crowd.
For some reason, a strange uneasiness settled in his chest.
He couldn't explain it.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was just the usual worry of an overprotective brother.
He shook the thought away and looked down at the mountain of shopping bags in his hands.
"Chalo," he muttered to the guards. "Pehle yeh sab car mein rakhte hain."
Meanwhile, Haya continued walking through the crowded mall, completely unaware of Asim's worried gaze behind her.
She was still smiling.
Still thinking about her forgotten credit card.
Still completely unaware that within only a few minutes, the crowd would swallow her from sight.
And this time…
No one would know exactly where she had gone.
After what felt like an entire lifetime, Asim finally reached the parking area with his five guards following behind him. The poor men looked as exhausted as he felt, their arms aching from carrying bags for what seemed like hours. Asim himself was barely holding on to the remaining shopping bags in his hands.
The moment they reached the car, the driver immediately noticed them and hurried forward.
"Sir," he greeted respectfully before opening the car's trunk.
Asim didn't even bother replying properly. He simply handed the bags over one after another.
"Yeh andar rakho… aur carefully," he muttered, watching the driver struggle to fit everything inside.
One bag.
Then another.
Then another.
And somehow, there were still more.
The driver stared at the mountain of shopping bags and then at Asim.
"Sir… aur bhi hain?"
Asim slowly turned his head toward him.
"Unfortunately."
The driver immediately sighed and continued.
Behind them, the guards were practically collapsing. One guard dropped onto the nearby bench, while another leaned against the car, stretching his shoulders.
"Bhai…" one of them groaned. "Mujhe lagta hai meri jaan nikal gayi hai."
Another guard rubbed his calves. "Sirf sir ki princess hi itni shopping kar sakti hain."
Asim heard that and gave him a tired look.
"Princess ke baare mein kuch mat bolo."
The guard immediately became quiet.
Asim finally handed over the last shopping bag and stepped back from the car. For a moment, he simply stood there.
Then he took a long, deep breath.
"Finally…"
His shoulders dropped slightly as if someone had finally removed a huge weight from them.
He slowly clenched both hands into tight fists and then opened them again. His fingers were stiff from carrying the heavy bags, and the muscles in his hands and forearms felt painfully tense. He repeated the movement several times, trying to relax his cramped muscles.
Never again.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Next time Haya says, 'Bhai, bas thori si shopping karni hai'… I'm not believing her.
A tired laugh almost escaped his lips.
"Thori si shopping…" Asim muttered sarcastically, shaking his head. "Aadha mall khareed liya hai."
One of the guards sitting on the floor immediately chuckled.
"Sir, honestly… I think mam bought more than half."
Asim opened his eyes and looked at him.
"Thank you. That was exactly what I needed to hear."
The guard quickly lowered his head, trying to hide his smile.
By now, another guard had completely given up and sat down on the pavement, stretching his legs in front of him.
"Sir, meri legs toh officially jawab de chuki hain."
The others laughed weakly.
One of them added, "Same. Main ab five minutes tak nahi uth raha."
Asim looked at his guards sitting all over the parking area and shook his head.
"Tum log guards ho ya shopping victims?"
"Both, sir," one of them replied without hesitation.
That finally made Asim laugh.
He ran a hand through his hair and took another deep breath. Despite his exhaustion, there was a small smile on his face.
Haya really is impossible.
He looked back toward the mall entrance.
His smile slowly faded.
She had said she would be back in a few minutes.
His eyes moved toward the entrance again.
"Bas card lekar aa jaye…" he murmured.
There was still a faint uneasiness in his chest, but he tried to ignore it.
She'll be fine. She's probably already on her way.
He checked his phone.
Nothing.
Asim frowned slightly.
"Yeh larki bhi na…" he muttered.
Then he slipped his phone back into his pocket and leaned against the car, waiting for his little sister to return.
He had no idea that those few minutes were about to become much longer than he expected.
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
Haya quickly made her way back toward the changing room, her footsteps becoming faster with every passing second. The thought of keeping Asim waiting was already making her feel guilty.
Please, bas card mil jaye… Asim bhai already mera wait kar rahe honge.
She pushed the curtain aside and stepped inside.
The changing room was quiet, almost completely empty. The sounds of the crowded mall outside had become nothing more than distant murmurs. Haya immediately looked toward the mirror, and there it was—her credit card, lying exactly where she had left it.
Relief washed over her instantly.
"Oh, thank God…" she whispered, picking it up quickly.
She checked it once, almost as if making sure it was really hers, before carefully slipping it into her purse.
Finally. Ab bhai ko aur wait nahi karwana.
A small smile appeared on her lips.
She turned around, adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, and reached for the curtain.
But the moment she was about t stepped outside—
She stopped.
Completely.
A man was standing directly in front of her.
Blocking the exit.
He stood tall, easily towering over most people around him, with a broad, well-built frame hidden beneath an impeccably tailored black shirt. The fabric looked expensive even under the ordinary mall lights, fitting perfectly across his wide shoulders and strong chest. His sleeves were neatly folded to his forearms, revealing muscular arms and prominent veins along his hands.
Everything about him suggested wealth.
From the expensive watch resting against his wrist to the polished shoes beneath him, nothing about his appearance looked careless or cheap.
His face was sharp and striking.
A defined jawline gave his features a naturally intimidating edge, while his straight, prominent nose and perfectly balanced features made him undeniably handsome. His thick black hair was styled neatly, with a few strands falling naturally over his forehead, giving him an effortlessly composed appearance.
He looked like a man who had never needed to raise his voice to make people listen.
Power seemed to follow him without asking.
Yet there was something unsettling about him.
Because behind that expensive appearance and perfectly controlled exterior was a coldness that couldn't be hidden.
But his eyes were what truly caught attention.
Deep black.
Dark.
Unusually intense.
They weren't the kind of eyes that simply looked at someone.
They made a person feel noticed.
His long, dark lashes framed those almost unreadable eyes, while his thick eyebrows added to the sharpness of his expression. His lips were naturally well-shaped, usually resting in a straight, emotionless line.
But there was something wrong with those eyes.
They weren't clear.
They were slightly unfocused, heavy with intoxication.
He was drunk.
The faint smell of alcohol reached Haya even before he stepped close enough to block her path.
That was what made her stomach turn.
Disgusting.
His expensive clothes suddenly meant nothing to her.
His handsome face meant nothing.
His wealth meant nothing.
All she could notice was the alcohol on his breath, the way he struggled slightly to keep his balance, and the uncomfortable confidence with which he continued invading her space despite her repeatedly telling him to move.
Haya's fear had mixed with disgust.
She had never liked the smell of alcohol, and being trapped so close to someone who was clearly intoxicated made every instinct inside her scream to get away.
"Please… move," she had told him.
But he hadn't.
Instead, he had stepped closer.
And that was when Haya stopped seeing him as merely a stranger.
To her, he was just a drunk, disgusting man who had made her feel unsafe.
She certainly didn't care about his deep black beotiful eyes.
All she wanted was distance.
All she wanted was to get away.
For a few seconds, Haya simply stared at him, unable to understand why he was standing there.
Her smile disappeared.
Her fingers instinctively tightened around her purse.
Who is he?
She took one small step backward.
The man took one step forward.
Haya's heartbeat immediately quickened.
Why is he coming closer?
She glanced toward the side, trying to understand whether there was another way around him.
"Excuse me," she said, keeping her voice as calm as she could. "Please, side dein."
He didn't move.
Haya waited for a second.
Nothing.
She tried moving toward the left.
He shifted in the same direction, blocking her again.
Her brows pulled together.
She tried the other side.
Again, he moved with her.
A strange discomfort crawled up her spine.
Her heart began beating harder.
What is he doing?
She looked beyond his shoulder.
"Please move," she said again, this time more firmly.
The man stepped closer.
Haya instinctively stepped backward.
One step.
Then another.
Until her shoulder touched the wall.
Her breath caught.
Her stomach dropped.
I'm trapped.
The realization sent a sharp wave of fear through her entire body.
Her grip around her purse tightened until her knuckles turned pale.
That thought terrified her more than anything.
No idea come to her mind because she was terrified.
What should I do?
Should I scream Or call bhai for help?
Her heartbeat thundered inside her chest.
No… no… no…
Her throat suddenly felt dry.
She swallowed hard.
"Don't come closer," she whispered.
Her voice wasn't as strong as she wanted it to be.
The man ignored her.
He moved closer again.
Haya's breathing became shallow.
Her heart was pounding so violently that she could hear it in her ears.
Haya, don't panic.
Don't cry.
Think.
She tried to control her breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
But her thoughts refused to slow down.
What if he grabs me?
What if I scream and nobody hears me?
What if everyone is too busy to notice?
Her eyes began burning with tears.
She blinked quickly.
No.
she wasn't going to cry.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
She remembered Asim's words from earlier.
"Take care of yourself."
Her chest tightened.
I should have listened.
For a second, guilt mixed with fear.
Why did I come back alone?
Why did I think two minutes would be nothing?
Her mind suddenly reminded her that she couldn't afford to freeze.
No.
She straightened her posture despite the trembling in her legs.
"Move," she said again, louder this time. "Mujhe jaana hai."
The man still didn't move.
Haya's fear turned into desperation.
I need to get out.
She looked toward the open door.
The man noticed.
"Don't even think about running," he warned, in his deep voice becoming colder. "You won't get very far."
Haya's breathing became uneven.
For the first time, his words made one thing painfully clear.
He wasn't going to let her leave willingly.
And that realization sent a fresh wave of terror through her.
Fear was still there—deep, overwhelming, burning through every nerve in her body—but now her instinct to protect herself was stronger.
No.
I'm not going to stand here.
Haya tried to shove him away, panic cutting through the fog of fear that had clouded her thoughts. "Let go!" she gasped, twisting desperately toward the door, her pulse racing as every instinct screamed at her to run. But before she could break free, his hand caught her jaw, forcing her attention back toward him as he leaned closer. Haya's eyes widened in horror. No. A sudden surge of fear and anger shot through her, overpowering the panic for just a moment. Without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.
SMACK!
His head snapped to the other side, and for one heartbeat, the room went completely still.
For a moment after the slap, the man remained completely still. Then he slowly turned his face back toward Haya, his expression hardening. The alcohol had dulled his movements, but there was now a dangerous anger behind his dark eyes.
"So you think you can slap me and just walk away?" he muttered, his voice low and bitter.
Haya's heart pounded.
"Stay away from me," she said, taking a step backward.
He gave a humorless laugh and moved forward again.
"Big attitude, huh?" His gaze lingered on her in a way that made her skin crawl. "You should've thought twice before making me angry."
Haya's fingers curled tightly around her purse.
"Don't come near me."
He ignored her warning.
"You're not going anywhere until I say you are."
Fear flashed across Haya's face.
Ya Allah… I need to get out of here.
Haya stood frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her hand trembling from the force of the slap as she stared at him in disbelief. Then one thought crashed through her mind—Run. And this time, she didn't hesitate.
Then he lunged after her. Haya tore free and stumbled toward the exit, but his hand closed around her wrist. He yanked her back, catching her hair as she fought to pull away. He forced her arms up, trying to pin them above her head, while she strained against his grip, terrified and furious. When his other hand reached toward her chest, she drove her knee up and kicked with all the strength she could summon.
The moment he moved toward her again, Haya stepped forward and delivered a sharp kick to his lower body.
The man immediately doubled over with a cry of pain.
"Ah!"
Haya didn't wait for another second.
She rushed past him, clutching her purse tightly against her chest, and ran out of the changing-room area.
Her legs felt strangely weak.
Her breathing was uneven.
She didn't even realize how quickly she was walking until she nearly bumped into someone.
"Sorry…" she whispered automatically.
Then she kept moving.
Faster.
And faster.
Don't look back.
Just keep walking.
Her hands were trembling.
She could still feel the fear sitting heavily in her chest.
The mall around her was crowded, but instead of making her feel safe, the crowd only made everything more confusing.
People passed beside her without knowing what had just happened.
Someone laughed.
Someone called out to their friend.
A shop employee greeted a customer.
Life continued as if nothing had happened.
But Haya felt as though her entire world had shifted in those few minutes.
She pressed her lips together, trying to control her breathing.
I'm safe.
She repeated it inside her head.
I'm safe now.
But another thought immediately followed.
Am I really?
She glanced over her shoulder.
The man was still back near the changing-room area, bent over in pain.
Haya immediately turned away.
Her heart jumped again.
"Ya Allah…" she whispered under her breath.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"What was that…?"
She quickly blinked them away.
No.
I'm not crying.
Not now.
She held her phone tightly in her hand and looked at the screen.
Her thumb hovered over Asim's name.
For a moment, she wanted to call him.
She desperately wanted to hear his voice.
But then she imagined his reaction.
His worried face.
His anger.
His questions.
Haya, tum akeli kyun gayi thi?
Tumne mujhe call kyun nahi kiya?
Main tumhe akelay jaane hi kyun deta hoon?
Her lips trembled.
"Main nahi bataungi…" she whispered.
But the words didn't sound convincing even to herself.
Because deep down, Haya knew she wasn't okay.
Her fingers were still shaking.
Her breathing still hadn't completely returned to normal.
And every time someone walked too close to her, her body instinctively tensed.
She hugged her purse closer and hurried toward the parking area.
The excitement she had felt only a few minutes ago was completely gone.
The shopping bags.
The ice cream.
Her teasing with Asim.
Her excitement about everything she had bought.
It all felt so distant now.
All she wanted was one thing.
Asim.
Bas Asim bhai ka paas chale jao… phir sab theek ho jayega.
She walked faster.
Almost running now.
But Haya didn't notice something else.
Among the countless people moving through the mall, someone had been watching her.
Someone had noticed the frightened girl rushing through the crowd.
Someone had noticed the direction she was heading.
And while Haya desperately tried to reach the one person she trusted most— Someone else had already started following her.
Haya almost ran into the parking lot, her hurried footsteps echoing faintly against the concrete floor. Her breathing was still uneven, and her heart was beating so hard that she could feel every thud against her ribs. She kept looking over her shoulder, afraid that somehow he might have followed her, until finally her eyes landed on the familiar black car.
Asim.
He was sitting inside the car, waiting for her.
A second car was parked nearby, where the guards were waiting patiently.
The sight of her brother brought an overwhelming wave of relief through her.
Bhai…
For one moment, Haya wanted to run straight to him, open the car door, and tell him everything.
Bhai, mujhe dar lag raha hai.
Wahan ek aadmi tha…
He wouldn't let me leave.
But then she stopped herself.
Her footsteps slowed.
No.
I can't tell him.
She quickly wiped the corner of her eye with her fingers and took a deep breath.
Haya, pull yourself together.
She straightened her shoulders, adjusted her clothes, fixed her hair with trembling fingers, and forced herself to slow down her breathing.
Then she practiced a smile.
A small one.
Normal.
As if nothing had happened.
Bas normal behave karna hai.
Bhai ko kuch pata nahi chalna chahiye.
She took another breath and walked toward the car.
Asim noticed her almost immediately.
He lowered the window.
"There you are," he said, his voice carrying a mixture of relief and mild annoyance. "Itni der kyun laga di?"
Haya stopped beside the car and gave him the brightest smile she could manage.
"Sorry, Bhai."
Asim looked at her for a moment.
"Card mil gaya?"
She nodded quickly.
"Haan."
"Then why were you taking so long?"
Haya gave a small nervous laugh.
"Bas… changing room mein thora sa rush tha."
The lie came out smoothly enough.
At least, she hoped it did.
Asim narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Are you okay?"
Her heart skipped.
For one terrifying second, she thought he knew.
She quickly nodded.
"Of course, Bhai. I'm perfectly fine."
Lie.
The word screamed inside her head.
She wasn't fine.
Her hands were still trembling.
Her chest still felt tight.
And every time she remembered that man's face, a shiver travelled down her spine.
But she smiled anyway.
A fake smile.
The kind of smile people wear when they don't want anyone to see what's happening behind their eyes.
Asim opened the car door.
"Come on. Get in."
Haya nodded.
"Okay."
She quietly climbed inside and settled into the back seat.
The moment the door closed behind her, she finally allowed herself to release the breath she had been holding.
She placed her purse on her lap and clasped both hands around it.
I'm with Bhai now.
I'm safe.
At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
Asim glanced at her through the rear-view mirror.
"You're unusually quiet."
Haya immediately looked up.
"I'm just tired."
"Tired?" He raised an eyebrow. "Ya phir shopping khatam hone ka dukh hai?"
For a second, Haya almost laughed.
"Maybe both."
Asim smiled faintly.
"Drama queen."
Haya gave him another small smile.
"Your drama queen."
"Exactly."
The guards' car started moving behind them as Asim pulled the car out of the parking lot.
Haya leaned her head against the window and watched the mall slowly disappear behind them.
She closed her eyes.
Bas… ab sab khatam.
She had escaped.
She was with her brother now.
She was safe.
Bas… ab sab theek hai. Jo hua, woh yahin khatam ho gaya. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to push the man's face out of her mind.
To Haya, he was nothing more than a drunk, disgusting stranger she had unfortunately crossed paths with. She had no idea that the man she had just slapped, fought, and escaped from was not some ordinary stranger.
She didn't know his name, his influence, or the kind of world he belonged to. She didn't know that one impulsive encounter had quietly placed her in the path of a danger far bigger than she could imagine.
And most importantly, she had no idea that by crossing paths with him, she hadn't only put herself in trouble—she had unknowingly brought the shadow of that trouble closer to her entire family.
While Haya sat peacefully beside the window, believing she was leaving everything behind, somewhere far away, the man she thought she would never see again had already made sure that he wouldn't forget her.
The journey ahead looked completely ordinary to Haya. She thought she was simply going home after a long day of shopping. She didn't know that this journey was taking her toward a story from which there would be no simple way back.
On a highway Behind Asim's car, another black car moved through the busy road, maintaining a careful distance from them. The tinted windows hid the person sitting behind the wheel, but if Haya had looked back, she would have recognized him immediately.
It was the same man.
The man she had slapped.
The man she had escaped from.
But there was nothing drunken or careless about him now.
His hands were firmly wrapped around the steering wheel, his knuckles tense from the pressure. His deep black eyes were red with anger, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle visibly twitched near it. Whatever intoxication had clouded his senses earlier seemed insignificant compared to the rage burning inside him now.
His gaze remained fixed on the car ahead.
On Haya's car.
His phone suddenly began ringing.
Once.
Then again.
The screen lit up beside him, vibrating repeatedly against the console.
He didn't even look at it.
His attention was somewhere else entirely.
His eyes narrowed as he watched Asim's car turn onto another road.
A bitter, humorless smile touched his lips.
"So…" he murmured under his breath, his voice dangerously calm, "you thought you could just walk away?"
The phone continued ringing.
He ignored it.
His foot pressed slightly harder on the accelerator.
The distance between the two cars slowly began to shrink.
Inside the car ahead, Haya remained completely unaware.
She had her eyes closed, believing the nightmare was behind her.
She didn't know the same man she had desperately tried to escape from was now driving only a short distance behind her.
And she certainly didn't know that he wasn't following her because he had forgotten what happened.
He was following her because he hadn't.
Author's Note
Assalamualaikum, everyone! 🤍
Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story. It truly means a lot to me. If you're enjoying the journey of Zaryab and Meher, please don't forget to vote, comment, and share your thoughts. Your support motivates me to write more.
🎯 Target: 100 Votes
Let's reach this milestone together! Thank you for being part of this journey.
With love,
Fiza ali khan❤️