Hirz-e-Jaan

Ulfat 5

Author's POV

Mehrunnisa, back in her room, couldn't help the thoughts spiraling in her head. How did this happen? Her with the person who was the reason she had to leave her house? Even the thought was repulsing.

On top of that, the stories she had heard of him did nothing to ease her worries. The whispers of his ruthlessness reached even the city. It was nothing short of terrifying. The worst part was that Haider had heard her openly cursing him. Her anxiety of being his next victim was through the ceiling.

Her chest heaved and her knee bounced with overwhelming thoughts. Her mother burst into the room, putting her thoughts to a halt. "Ammi? Kia howa? Wo chala gaya?" (Mom? What happened? Did he leave?)

Her mom sat on her bed, clearly shaking. "Mere liye paani lao Mehr." Mehrunnisa left right away to get water, leaving Amina alone in the room. (Get me a glass of water Mehr)

Amina had no idea how to deal with this situation. She couldn't convince Mehrunnisa and she couldn't deny Haider either. She didn't understand what she could do, "Ya mere rab, meri madad kar" (Oh my Lord, help me)

Mehrunnisa came back with a glass of water and sat by her mother. "Ammi kia kaha usne? Usne sab sun liya kia?" (Mom what did he say? Did he hear everything?)

Amina looked up to her daughter, not having the heart to tell her that Haider wanted her. She just sadly smiled and reassured Mehrunnisa, "Kuch nahi howa. Ap fikr mat karo." (Nothing happened. Don't you worry.)

Mehrunnisa, albeit unconvinced, didn't push further. She knew it's better to leave it alone.

_____________________________

The great doors of the grand hall swung open with a heavy echo.

Haider stepped inside.

The space was vast, drenched in muted gold light from the chandeliers above. Guards straightened at once, conversations dying the moment his boots touched the marble floor. His presence alone shifted the air to firm, commanding, unquestionable.

He walked forward without pause, his expression calm, unreadable.

But inside, something twisted.

"Mein us jallad se kabhi shaadi nahi karoon gi." (I would never marry that ruthless man)

Her words returned uninvited, sharp as a wound that refused to close.

For the first time in a long while, Haider felt the ache settle deep in his chest, not anger, not rage but something heavier. Something dangerously close to hurt.

He ascended the steps to the throne and sat, resting his elbows lightly on the armrests. From the outside, he looked every inch the Chaudhary: composed, untouchable. But his fingers curled slowly into his palm.

Jallad. (Ruthless)

He let out a chuckle, eyes lowering briefly.

So this was how she saw him.

Not the boy who once stood guard beneath the neem tree.
Not the one who had waited eight years in silence.
But the man power had carved him into.

His jaw tightened.

"Agr wo mere se darti he" he thought, "to usne mere baare men suna hoga in aath saalon mein" (If she is afraid of me... then she has heard of me in the past 8 years)

That realization steadied him.

Haider leaned back against the throne, his gaze lifting to the vast emptiness of the hall. His voice broke the silence low, controlled, meant only for himself.