When Anan's brother commits a deadly mistake, she didn't knew, she had become the unwitting compensation for his kill. Later upon finding out. She became torn between loyalty and justice. The person who helped her escape, however, hold secrets of hi...
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Edited.
The darkness enveloped the city, it's familiar shroud suffocating. Tonight, it felt oppressive, as if something lurked in every shadow of the Moscow city, waiting to strike.
The usually bustling Krymsky bridge, stood deserted, it's lights struggling to pierce the thick fog. A lone car passed, it's headlights casting spooky silhouettes.
The wind blew, elevating the chill, numbing fingers and toes. A figure stood at the bridge's railing, her hand grasping the baluster for balance.
Her hand looked pale, stiff and frozen in a permanent grasp. Another hidden in her pocket. The red thick jacket she was wearing, rustle as the wind howled, when she put her left foot out in the air.
Her hair danced wildly, kissing her cheeks and forehead. Framing her face. Her eyes were fixed on the frosty river flowing below. The hand in the warmth of her pocket clasped in a fist as her decision solidified.
She didn't want to live anymore, or she simply couldn't. And She was pretty sure, if she died she would affect no one, maybe her brother, but soon he'll get back in life forgetting her, just like everyone does with the dead.
However her heart was too tired right now. So, tired that she didn't want to think about anything or anyone anymore. Because in the last one month she had done nothing but that.
She was once full of life too, but now she has nothing but dread. If she lives in the future, she knew she would be alive but actually dead inside.
She pull out her hand from her jacket's pocket, putting it on her abdomen, she sighed, a misty plume of breath fog escaped her mouth and disappeared in the chilly wind.
She didn't knew, how long she has been in this position, as she let go of the cold cemented baluster, she couldn't feel her numb hand, when she tried to clenched it. But she felt the wind, harshly hitting her face when she jumped.
The first thing that hit her was that the water was biting cold. And that it hurt, her body, mind and heart everything hurt badly. However, her final thought wasn't that, it was of him, the one who caused her torment, when she heard someone shouting her name. She thought of him, while losing her consciousness in the dark abyss around her.
...
As evening fell, the setting sun casted a warm glow on the horizon, drawing fringes of light rays and shadows on the majestic Yousafzai Haveli, which stood proudly among the mountains of, Swat Valley.
In the vast garden of the Haveli, a flurry of activity took place as preparations reached their final stages for the grand function that would take place that very night. People bustled about, setting the stage, decorating it with vibrant marigolds, arranging fairy lights on high walls of the Haveli, and draping bright yellow and white decorative fabrics on tables and chairs.
