Mere Piya

Karachi. Winter night. 2026..

The city was alive.

Neon boards flickered, Cars horns echoes, 30 passed 11, it proved that the city hasn't slept yet its still on the go.

But on the top floor of Sheikh Towers, silence ruled.

A single lamp glowed inside a massive penthouse studio.

And in the center of it stood a man.

Thirty-five.
Tailored black suit.
Controlled breathing.
Eyes that had forgotten how to feel.

A man stood

In front of him stood a six-foot canvas.

Half complete.

A woman's face stared back at him.

Not entirely finished.

One side alive with delicate brush strokes luminous skin, soft lashes, a hazel eye filled with something that looked dangerously close to hope.

The other side... blank.

Unpainted.

Unfinished.

Below the portrait, carved into the wooden frame:

Inayat Sheikh
1999 - 2019

He lifted his hand slowly.

His fingers hovered over the painted cheek.

"Tumhe pata hai..." he whispered.

His voice was low. Rough. Like it wasn't used often.

"Main ne kabhi kisi ke liye rukna nahi seekha."

He traced the outline of her eye with his thumb.

"But tumhari tasveer... ab tak poori nahi kar paaya."

Outside, thunder rolled faintly.

Inside, his jaw tightened.

"I hate love! But how can i forget you" he muttered.

His reflection in the glass window looked distant.

Cold.

Untouched.

He had built an empire in six years.

Sheikh Enterprises had become a name people feared in boardrooms.

He destroyed contracts. He acquired land. He bought loyalties.

He never believed in emotions.

Because love was weakness.

She left him, but before leaving him made him strongly weak......

"Yaad, ati hain tumhari, har pal, har roz, har din, har lamhe.....Kaise bhulo tumhe, mere piya jo ho......"