Sayonee (Re-writing)

S e v e n

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Laila
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I slowly opened my eyes, blinking against the dim light above me. My head felt heavy, as if someone had stuffed clouds inside it. For a few seconds everything looked blurry—shadows moving around me, hushed voices, someone sitting beside me.

Ammi.

I relaxed instantly.

Her fingers were running softly through my hair, worry etched across her face. Danish Bhai stood near the window with his arms crossed tightly against his chest while Khala and Khaloo sat on the couch nearby. The room felt suffocatingly silent.

"What happened?" I whispered, my throat dry.

"You fainted," Danish Bhai replied immediately, almost too quickly.

Fainted.

Right.

The gunshots.

My chest tightened at the memory.

I pushed myself up slightly against the pillows. "Who was firing outside the office?"

The room went still.

Danish Bhai exchanged a look with Khaloo before speaking carefully. "No one was firing at us, Laila. Some boys nearby were messing around. That's all."

"That's not true."

My own voice surprised me.

Everyone looked at me.

"I heard it clearly," I continued quietly. "And Bhai Jaan looked scared too."

Ammi sighed softly, rubbing her forehead. "Beta..."

Before she could continue, Khaloo spoke.

"I told Danish this would happen."

His voice was calm, but it carried enough authority to silence everyone.

"You cannot enter politics and expect enemies not to form." He leaned back against the couch, eyes fixed on Danish Bhai. "People threaten first. Then they act."

A cold feeling settled in my stomach.

"Which is exactly why," he continued, "we need to start thinking ahead."

I already knew where this conversation was going.

My fingers curled tightly around the bedsheet.

"Alaya's engagement was finalized quickly for a reason," Khaloo said. "Strong families protect each other. That is how this world works."

I looked toward Alaya instinctively.

Her eyes were lowered.

Something inside me cracked.

So it was true.

This wasn't just about love or timing or destiny.

It was strategy.

Security.

Protection.

My throat burned.

"And now," Khaloo continued, looking directly at Danish Bhai, "you need to think seriously about Laila too."

The words hit me harder than the panic attack had.

For a moment nobody spoke.

Not Ammi.

Not Danish Bhai.

Not even Khala.

As if the decision about my life was already floating somewhere above our heads waiting to happen.