Hirz-e-Jaan

Ulfat 3

Author's POV

~Time skip 8 years~

The grand hall of the Chaudharys stood tall and heavy with silence. The chandeliers above gave off a soft golden glow, while thick curtains blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving the room in a tense half-light.

On both sides of the long hall, men were seated in rows, whispering to one another. Some wondered why they had been called. Others guessed that a case was about to be judged. At the far end, the great throne waited, empty, its emptiness making the whole room feel unsettled.

On the right side of the throne stood a young man in his early twenties. His shoulders were broad, and a goofy smile rested on his lips, as if he was the only one not weighed down by the tension. His eyes, however, were sharp and quick, noticing more than he let on.

On the other side stood a much younger boy, still in his late teens. He stood straight with his arms folded, his face hard and serious. His eyes carried a cold determination that made him look far older than his years. Side by side, the two were complete opposites, one lighthearted and easy, the other strict and firm.

The whispers filled the room, until—

The heavy doors creaked open and slammed back against the walls. The sound echoed across the hall, cutting off every voice in an instant.

A man walked in.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark sherwani with a turban, symbolising his status. His steps were firm, steady, and carried the weight of someone who knew he belonged here. His face was calm but strong, his eyes sharp and full of command. Just by looking at him, people lowered their gaze.

Behind him followed guards and advisors, moving in line, their silence only adding to the man's presence.

As he walked down the center of the hall, the goofy smile of the young man by the throne faded, and the serious boy stiffened even more, ready for whatever was about to happen.

The man gave a pointed look to the younger boy who just lowered his gaze.

The man reached the throne and turned to face everyone. He sat down, filling the empty seat as if it had been waiting only for him. The air grew heavier, and all eyes locked on him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and strong.

"Shuru karein" (Let's begin)

Everyone took a seat and waited for the case to unfold. The words rolled across the hall like thunder. The men who had been whispering now sat in silence, waiting to see what judgment was about to be made.

Two men were brought forward by the guards. One was older, in his fifties, with a thick mustache and a nervous sweat covering his forehead. His hands were tied, and he kept shifting his feet, unable to look anyone in the eye.

The other was a humble farmer, his clothes simple, his hands rough from years of work. Beside him stood his daughter, her face hidden behind a dupatta, trembling, but her father's hand rested firmly on her shoulder. He stood tall, despite the weight of shame and anger pressing on him.

The hall went silent.

The man's trusted advisor, Zorawar, stepped forward and announced,
"Yeh aadmi, Kareem, pe ilzaam hai ke isne is larki ko kheton mein pareshan kiya. Larki ghar ja rahi thi jab isne raasta roka. Uske walid ne khud dekha aur baat aaj yahan lai gayi he." (This man, Kareem, is accused of harassing this girl in the fields. The girl was heading home when he stopped her. Her father witnessed everything and the case was presented in front of you.)