The Wrong Wedding

Act-32

"Bhaabi—even with the video evidence, do you think it will be enough to stop Harris bhai? We all knew that Harris bhai had something against Rayyan bhai—but to this extent?! Man, he needs help—" Ahmed shook his head besides me; his hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road ahead.

Ahmed was a year younger than Haniya and still in business school. He was their cousin from Mom's side of the family and had no blood relation with Rayyan per se. Yet, he agreed to help me with this, alongwith Haniya. I didn't want to ask her for this—to go against her own brother to help me and Rayyan. But she agreed with Ahmed, that someone needed to stop him, now or never.

"No. But the right evidence in the right hands is all that we need." I returned without looking up. Finally, there was only one thing left to do. I knew how I could put this video to best use.

"Hello? Daddy?" I whimpered, even though my eyes were far from teary. I saw Ahmed turn to me slowly, with a stunned look on his face.

I knew now, what Uncle Zia had planned. He thought he could get rid of Rayyan by using my name to blackmail him. He knew where to hit him, somehow and Rayyan had fallen right into his trap. I had no doubt that everything would've gone according to his plans without my parents ever finding anything about it. Or, even if they did find it out later, it may have very well been too late for it. But whatever it was, Uncle Zia knew what Dad could do to him if he ever knew how they had used me in this way. There was no way that he could afford to spoil his business relationship with Dad, over anything. That's mainly why he had arranged mine and Rayyan's marriage as a last resort, afterall.

Everything was going smoothly until he, pulled that stunt.

I knew what my Dad's response was going to be and the only thing that was slightly different from my imagination was the height of Dad's rage.

"HOW DARE HE—!! How dare he think to accuse MY daughter—!!" Dad bellowed and I had to pull the phone away from my ear. I had told him everything from start to finish, leaving out the part about the pictures, which Rayyan didn't want anyone to find out.

I wasn't crying, only pretending to. I was too angry to cry and even if I could've, Dad's swearing and anger had quite frankly frightened me, beyond measure.

"—and you're okay? Did they do anything to you?" I could sense a hint of tremor in his voice. It wasn't anger—but fear; for his child's safety.

More than a decade ago, I was accused of a crime I never committed. Everyone ridiculed me, looked at me like a person without any respect or honour. My entire life had become a free show for their amusement and leisure. Just one lie had turned my life into a living hell. With just one word, instantly all my truths had converted into lies. I was innocent but treated like a criminal—and lived like a criminal.

But today I was finally liberated of all those accusations. Over there, Rayyan was lying in the hospital bed, hanging between life and death, only because he was trying to protect my honour. And here, Dad was ready to fight against the whole world to protect me and my life. Only a year ago, I was so close to running away and turning that false allegation into a reality. If Allah didn't put a stop to my plans then—and didn't help Rayyan to hinder that person's schemes, now—I would have really turned into the dishonourable person they had accused me to be.

The realisation felt like a lump of tears blocking my windpipe, which I had to gulp down before nodding and reassuring him of my safety.

"Okay—you just stay with Rayyan. Take care of yourself and him. Don't worry about anything. Nothing will happen to Rayyan. I will take care of everything." I silently nodded, even though he could obviously not see me.