I've Got My Eyes On You

Last Chapter- Filled Voids

Hello for the last time my lovelies. I am very thankful to all of you whoever takes time out and reads this and has been reading this. I really feel grateful to all of you. This Chapter is dedicated to My noor. It's her Birthday week and she's been really kind to me and to this fic since December 2023. Happy birthday noor! This one's for you. I love you and thankyou for being with me throughout this journey.
_____________________

Don't forget to check the header and leave your precious feedback one last time. I've got my eyes on you ends today! Have a fun read. No chappals!

_____________________________________________________

He had been feeling anxious already. Malik Mukhtar sat quietly in his dimly lit room, the heavy silence of the night a stark contrast to the thoughts swirling in his mind. He had not heard from akram in days and he wanted him to return to him leaving all the grudges which may be life threatening but Akram wasn’t the one to listen. The faintest sound from outside stirred him—a muffled commotion, something unsettling. He narrowed his eyes and instinctively reached for his glasses, placing them on the table beside him with a measured calmness. The air felt thick with tension as he rose from his chair and made his way to the door, each step echoing in the silence. When he stepped outside, the scene that greeted him was chaos. His men, normally alert and disciplined, were scattered in confusion, their faces grim with the weight of the news they carried.

“Malik sahib,” one of his men stepped forward, his voice hesitant, almost trembling, “Akram sahab-”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, each one slicing through the stillness. Malik's heart clenched, but he held his ground. His lips thinned, a cold dread sinking into his bones. His men parted as a body was brought before him, covered but unmistakably lifeless. Malik Mukhtar turned his head towards the entrance. His eyes stuck to the body covered with the white cloth

Akram.

The cloth covering Akram’s face, drenched in blood, was slowly peeled back by one of the men. In that moment, the world seemed to stop. Akram’s familiar features, now pale and cold in death, were revealed, and the realization hit Malik like a sledgehammer to the chest. His eyes widened, brimming with disbelief as he fixated on the still, lifeless form of his nephew—the boy he had raised, the young man he had warned, who now lay motionless before him.

Malik staggered, the strength drained from his legs, his knees threatening to buckle beneath the weight of the grief crashing down on him. His breathing turned shallow, his heart struggling to keep pace with the overwhelming flood of emotions that surged through him. Slowly, with trembling hands, Malik knelt beside Akram’s body, his fingers gently brushing against his cold, blood-stained face. “Kitna samjhaya tha...,” Malik whispered, his voice barely a breath, cracking under the strain of his sorrow. His hand shook as he touched Akram’s cold hand, the finality of death sinking into his very bones. His hands trembled

Tears, unbidden and raw, began to leak from Malik’s old eyes, trailing down the deeply etched lines of his face, lines hardened by decades of violence, power, and control. And yet, here he was, vulnerable, exposed, kneeling before the shattered remnants of the only family he had left. The memories of Akram’s youth flashed before his eyes—his laughter, his rebellious nature, his pride. “Kitna samjhaya tha,” Malik repeated, his voice breaking, as if trying to bargain with fate, but the stillness of Akram’s body reminded him that nothing could change what had already been done.

Akram’s lifeless face stared back at him, the same nephew he had groomed in the dark ways of revenge and violence. It was as if time had cruelly twisted back on itself, delivering him a blow far worse than any he had dealt to his enemies. The day that had brought him so much pride—the day they had shattered the Shahnawaz family eighteen years ago—returned like a vengeful ghost. It was the same day Maryam had been killed, her life snuffed out in the bloodlust that he had celebrated. Malik’s eyes, now wide and brimming with horror, darted between the broken body of Akram and the memories of that cursed day, realizing too late that this was the true price of his sins.