I'm sure you've heard a lot about unrequited love, but what if I say there exists an unwilling love, hidden somewhere between the echoes of silence and the whispers of the heart's secrets? A love that fights to stay buried, yet yearns to be discover...
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"He did what?!" Zaki’s eyes widened in disbelief.
"He murdered someone," Shavez repeated. He knew Zaki had heard Zumar clearly, that the outburst wasn’t a question but sheer shock.
"I didn’t know he was capable of killing—did he really?" Zaki’s voice trembled as he turned to Zumar, searching her face. She gave a silent nod.
Zaki’s chest heaved. "How are you sitting there so calmly, Shavez? You let your son fall into the hands of a murderer—how can you be so calm?"
They were gathered in the lounge of Haider’s Cottage—Yusra, Zumar, Amaan, Shavez—everyone were seated except Zaki, who paced the floor, his hand pressed to his forehead as if trying to steady his thoughts.
"You knew, didn’t you?" he asked suddenly, catching the faint hint in Shavez’s composure.
"No," Shavez answered quickly. "But I suspected. After looking at Daniyal’s state we should know..."
Zaki’s rage spiked. "You suspected? And you still said nothing? You let Shazal walk straight into whatever madness that man had planned. I thought he shot daniyal to prove his point not aiming to murder him. How could you—"
"Baba," Yusra’s voice cut through. "Shazal is safe. At least for now. And don’t forget—he is Adnan’s own blood. He won’t harm him."
Zaki whirled on her, his voice breaking with anger. "How can you be so sure? Why are all of you so calm about this"
Yusra’s lips parted, but nothing came. How could she show upfront that this entire situation was maddening? It was breaking the circuits in her brain—the marriage she hadn’t dreamt this way, Shazal leaving with Adnan, Daniyal bleeding on a hospital bed, the fractured phone call that kept her clinging to a thread, and the last wound of all… Mehjabeen.
One thing’s desire. Another is reality.
And between them stood her, torn open, suspended in a place where neither belonged to her.
Desires did not leave easily. They lingered like smoke, suffocating, sweet, impossible to grasp. Dreams had a way of planting themselves so deep in one’s veins that cutting them out felt like bleeding to death.
But reality—harsh, unbending reality—stood in front of her, cold and unrelenting, demanding that she bow to it.
It was so difficult, she didn’t even have words anymore. Words—her oldest companions—betrayed her. All that remained was the pounding in her chest and the ache in her bones, whispering the truth she didn’t want to face.
That wanting and having were worlds apart.
And she was stranded in between.
She gulped down but before she could answer, Shavez finally stirred. His deep breath filled the silence, heavy as stone.
