Sunshine fml × Sad male lead
Bekhatar kud para aatish e namrood main Ishq
Aqal hai mehv e Tamasha e lab e baam abhi
The word Ishq is made up of three letters, "Ain, sheen and qaaf" and these three letters stand for three stages of love.
Ain: Ain is...
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They grieved for the next few weeks, and the investigation continued in full force. There was just one suspect, someone who had the motive to kill Usama. And that was Murtasim.
The manager and staffs had reported about the fight that happened a night beforeUsama's death, where Murtasim was threatening Usama that he would kill him if he didn't stay away from his wife. It was a murder. Anybody could be the suspect. Murtasim needed an alibi his wife couldn't be considered an alibi, but thankfully the staff incharge had seen him exiting the room after the shot was fired, but that didn't clear his name, he was still a suspect, what if he had hired a hitman to kill his brother?
He had dual motives, one was obviously his wife and second was inheritance. After Usama all would be his, the two weeks went by and another where Murtasim couldn't grieve for his dead brother.
"Did you kill your brother?"
He was calm and collected, and glanced at his lawyer who shook his head signaling to keep his mouth shut. Murtasim was tired, their questions were making it seem like he was the one who murdered them.
"Mr Khan, did you hate your brother?"
Murtasim's eyes darkened as he glanced at the detective, the exhaustion etched into his face evident. His lawyer's presence was a reminder to remain silent, yet the weight of the question hung heavily in the room.
"Hate?" Murtasim finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "You think I hated him?"
The detective leaned forward, scrutinizing Murtasim's every move. "We know about the fight, Mr. Khan. Your threats were heard by several people. It's not a stretch to think you might have acted on them." Murtasim clenched his fists, his frustration barely contained.
"Yes, we fought. We argued. But hate? Usama was my brother. Do you even understand what that means?"
The detective didn't waver. "Family ties can be complicated. You had reasons to want him gone. Your wife, the inheritance—"
Murtasim's lawyer cut in. "My client has already stated he won't answer any more questions without substantial evidence. This interrogation is bordering on harassment."
The detective sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. But understand this, Mr. Khan. We're watching you. If there's anything—anything at all that ties you to this murder, we'll find it."
Murtasim stood, his lawyer following suit. "I loved my brother," he said quietly. "I loved him. I didn't kill him. I grew up with him and now he is dead. I missed his funeral because of your questions."
The tears fell from his eyes as he paused, trying to compose himself. The room fell silent.
"I missed saying goodbye," Murtasim continued, his voice breaking. "I couldn't even mourn properly because you all brought me in for questioning on the day of his funeral. I would never harm him, no matter how much we fought. Do you know how it feels when you can't say a proper goodbye to your loved one?"
