I am on a freakin roll 😆
Again, this stars Sultan and Noora and has no connection to the main fanfiction. Enjoy this as a separate piece.
At one or two places you're gonna be like "how did she do it?"
Remember Noora is inot business too, in fact she's been international before Sultan, so she has them magic powers 😆
I'll proofread in the morning, so ignore any errors 😆
Enjoy!
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We’ll Be Together, Come Whatever
Summary: When Sultan returns to his motherland after 4 years in order to reconcile with his daughter, he is in for a shock. As he starts to blame himself, his lady love decides to tell him who he really is.
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Sultan
Nothing much seemed to have changed compared to the last time I was here. The weather, the roads, the people…everything seemed static. As the car moved towards my house, seeing certain locations hit me with nostalgia…and pain.
The mall: where I had taken Nageen for shopping.
The Marriott: where I had got married to Narmeen.
The beach: where I went to dates with Nageen.
The bus stop: where I first saw Nageen and…the scandal.
‘Sultan?’ The soft melodious voice snapped me out of my reverie. A hand covered mine. ‘Is it getting too bad?’
I turned to face the source of my solace, the love of my life, ‘Yeah.’
She stroked the back of my hand, causing me to relax the fist I had not realised I had made, ‘Its okay, baby. I’m here with you.’
‘It’s too hard,’ I choked out. Tears had begun pricking the corner of my eyes.
‘Hey,’ she coaxed me. ‘We’re in this together. Every step of the way.’
I smiled at her, the woman who had entered my life six months ago and changed it completely. Noora, the light of my existence.
After the tragic death of my wife, Narmeen and my BiJaan, I had moved to the UK in order to expand my business and try to physically get away from my source of pain. When I had found out four years ago that Nageen was no longer in Pakistan and the fact that Narmeen was paying my right hand to gain intel on me, I lost my temper like never before.
Durranis were known to have inherited anger, along with money and politics. I was no less. My anger had caused me to physically hurt Narmeen, which led to her passing away, but not before giving birth to our girl, Rameen. On the other hand, Chachajaan, unable to take the grief, tried to shoot me, but ended up killing his mother.
That night, I did not just lose Narmeen, BiJaan and Rameen, I lost my will to live. The family disowned me and I was shunned from seeing my daughter. Heartbroken, I moved to across continents.
I tried to numb the pain using alcohol and vaping, but it did not work. I took up huge amounts of workload and responsibility, more than I was supposed to, however somehow the sinking feeling always returned. Finally, I attempted to physically eliminate the pain. The endless line of women entering and leaving my bed was frivolous and did nothing to soothe my agony.
Years passed. Nothing changed.
Until one night, six months ago.
While spending my usual weekend at Cirque Le Soir and looking out for a conquest to fill my weekend, my eyes fell on her.
Clad in a rose gold sequin dress with barely there straps and 6-inch heels, Noora Khan was everything a man could dream of. And when she spotted me staring at her, she bought a bottle of champagne upto me, instead of letting me chase her.
The way she danced was hypnotic, the way her eyes beckoned me to join her was magnetic, the way she swayed her hips and put her arms around me was mesmeric. And finally, when she whispered in my ear, her contralto husky voice caressing my soul, ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I knew I was whipped.
She was just like me.
We spent an entire weekend of passion in The Dorchester, hardly leaving the sheets. She never asked me who I was or what I did for a living. Instead our post-sex conversations included hobbies, travel destinations and 90s Bollywood. In fact, we watched ‘Hum Aapke Hai Koun’ with our Noora’s commentary and even danced on Pehla Pehla Pyaar Hai.
Alas, the magic weekend came to an end. When I woke up from my afternoon nap on Sunday, she was gone. The hotel said she had paid the bill. The only souvenir I found was a little note saying “Thank you for the great weekend. You are amazing. x”
For the entire week, I contemplated whether to try find her, or let it remain as the best weekend sex I had ever had. But again, she made the decision for me. On the following Friday, when everyone had left the office, security informed me I had a guest, someone who had rocked my world recently.
The minute she entered my office, smirking playfully, I had her flat on my table. With another weekend on our side, I finally asked her out. Needless to say, she said yes with no hesitation.
And a couple of months in, I was off unnecessary drinking and excess vaping. Not to forget, I was madly, crazily and head over heels in love with her. And she was with me.
Falling in love was the easy part, but to remain in a relationship was difficult for me. The ghosts of my past always haunted me. My nightmares never truly went away and this scared me because I thought Noora would leave. However, she encouraged me to face them. Thus, it led me to book us a trip to Pakistan, in order to help me find closure once and for all.
Which brings us to today, as my car slowed down in front of Durrani Mansion. The house where I had lost it all and was alienated from my daughter.
‘C’mon baby,’ Noora gestured me to get out of the car.
With shaky legs and heavy sighs, I did as she asked me to. She laced our hands together and we started walking indoors. Every flashback, every bit of deja vu was pure agony. I shook it aside roughly, reprimanding myself mentally to be stronger. And that is when I saw Chachijaan sitting near the pool with Chachajaan, who was confined to a wheelchair. The smile on her face disappeared the minute she saw me, her expression hardened instantly.
‘How dare you come here?’ She said, her voice dangerously thin.
I cleared my throat, ‘I am here to made amends.’
‘Oh really? And will that bring back my daughter?’ She laughed humourlessly. ‘Or your BiJaan?’
Shots of pain hit me in the chest when she said those words. ‘I can’t change what has happened, Chachijaan. But I for sure wish to move forward.’
‘And you’ve done a marvellous job at that,’ she gritted through her teeth as she eyed Noora.
Still, I ignored her viciousness, ‘I want to meet my daughter Chachijaan. There hasn’t been one day I haven’t thought of Rameen.’
‘She doesn’t exist for you,’ Chachijaan retorted coldly. ‘So get out.’
Anger bubbled under my skin, ‘I respect you Chachijaan. And I have always been the son you and Chachajaan wanted. You know Narmeen’s death was an accident.’
‘An accident you caused!’ She yelled at me. ‘You killed her! And now you think you can waltz in here and replace her with this—’
‘I’d weigh my words before speaking, Chachijaan,’ my voice lowered in anger, a warning for her. ‘Say whatever you want to about me. But don’t you dare bring Noora into this.’
‘So she has a name! How lov—’
‘Nani!’
I whipped my head towards where the voice came from. Rameen came running towards us, her red frock and open hair flowing. She quickly stood behind Chachijaan, looking at me curiously.
If I had ever felt a heartbreak before, it was nothing like what I felt at this very minute. The Earth seemed to be spinning rapidly, as if it might explode any minute. My heart beat was thudding in my head and I was forgetting to breathe. My hands shook slightly, them craving to hold my daughter at least once.
‘Nadia! Take Rameen to her room!’
‘No please…please just once let me hold her…Chach—Rameen! Rameen!’
‘Get out of here before I call the police!’ Chachijaan shoved me. ‘You have caused enough damage to this family. If this is about property, then this house will be yours after we die. And Rameen will be taken care of. She doesn’t need a vile father like you who will ruin her life.’
****
The entire week Noora and I spent with lawyers in order to find a way, a loophole, so that I could get my daughter back. But there was something utterly devastating coming up. When I visited the Mansion after 15 days, it was empty.
One caretaker approached me to clear my confusion, ‘Mujadad sahab passed away a week ago. The funeral happened rather quietly. Sharmin madam and Rameen baby have left the country. All the servants have been paid for and asked to leave. Only I am here to take care of the house…’
The rest of the words were a blur when I realised the gravity of the situation. My daughter was once again taken away from me, this time God knows where. There was no way I could find her this time. She was going to become a distant memory, the one whose image I wanted to freeze in my brain forever.
My blood had turned cold, yet it was burning my skin. I felt deprived of oxygen. With whatever energy I could muster, I stumbled into my car, going back home.
I fell into Noora’s arms, hyperventilating. She rocked me back and forth, whispering reassuring words into my ear. But it was as if I was deaf. Nothing mattered anymore. My own flesh and blood had been ripped apart from my world and I would never get to know her now.
Noora
I looked worriedly at Sultan as he stood near the pool, staring into nothing, caping constantly. Till now he had gone through half a bottle of Scotch and one e-cigarette. There was utter fury in his eyes, the kind that scared me. This was the most intoxicated I had seen him.
He moved wordlessly towards the glass, setting his palm on it…and finally the anger turned into agonising pain. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and his body shook harshly. I stood up and went to him, placing my hand on his shoulder.
When he did not push me away, I gently wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his back, hoping he was calm down a little bit. Sultan turned around and pulled me closer, his eyes bloodshot, ‘I’m a terrible person.’
‘No you’re not. You’re human and you made a few mistakes, that’s it.’
‘Few mistakes? No Noora, I am a monster,’ he said brokenly. ‘And I will end up hurting you too.’
I shook my head, ‘Bullocks, Sultan. Don’t do this to yourself. You made a few mistakes, but you never wished ill on anyone.’
‘All of this,’ he ignored me. ‘Is my fault. Narmeen died because of me. BiJaan died trying to save me.’
‘That’s not—’
‘Chachajaan’s health deteriorated because of me. Rameen is not in my life because of my actions. Nageen’s life was ruined because of me.’
‘Sult—’
‘I am an evil person, Noora. And you should leave before I hurt you too. If anything were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.’
I froze at his words, understanding what he was asking of me. Before he could let go of me, I tightened my grip on him, ‘No Sultan Durrani. You’re trying to walk away because of your pain and I won’t let you! Stop blaming yourself for what others did. Narmeen was using your employee and manipulated the situation into marrying you. Nageen was a prejudiced individual, who chose to mess with the wrong person. I don’t advocate what you did to her, but you wanted to apologise and you searched everywhere for her.’
‘And Bijaan? She died for me.’ Sultan wiped his nose at the back of his hand.
‘Sultan, BiJaan’s death was not your fault. She tried to protect you! Your uncle pulled out the gun in sheer anger and he was blaming you for reacting to finally finding the truth! Your entire family was full of manipulators, liars and deceitful individuals. You uncle and aunt were on this because they wanted you to marry Narmeen! Your uncle was only bothered about his dynasty and tried to get you repeatedly into politics against your will. Every action has a reaction, and sorry to say this, but they pushed you way too far. Today, he is not in this world and I don’t wish to speak ill for the deceased…but what good shall I say about him?’
‘But I pushed Narmeen…’
I sighed, ‘Yes you did. And that was an accident, Sultan. You have repented that action for almost half a decade now. Of course what happened with Narmeen was unfortunate…but were her lies justified?’
‘I am bad news Noora.’
‘No you’re not,’ I said indignantly. ‘I don’t care what you say Sultan Durrani. You can try convince me all you want but I have seen the real you. The genuinely beautiful, pure and lonely soul who fulfilled all his duties as a nephew and a son-in-law. Not wanting to marry Narmeen was not a crime. Not wanting to get into politics at that time was not a crime. Falling in love with a middle class girl was not a crime, baby, and you’re being punished way too much for it.’
‘I don’t deserve you…’
‘You deserve the world and much more, my love,’ I kissed his cheeks. ‘You were misunderstood, but not anymore. I love you and you are my home. I know your past and I don’t judge you for any mistakes you made because they were circumstantial and you tried to fix them. You have always tried to be the better man and person and you know what? Nothing you say can change my mind. I know you Sultan Durrani, inside out, and I am madly in love with you. Its not a momentary rush of desire or just the urge for companionship. We’re in this together, baby, and I promise you, I will find a way out.’
That did it. Sultan embraced me tightly, burying his face in my shoulder and burst into hysterical sobs. I returned the hug with equal fervour, trying to help him piece himself back together. Between broken “I love yous” and the need to be close to me, we stumbled into the bedroom.
That night, Sultan showed me what I truly meant to him. The rush of emotions flowing off him overwhelmed me, causing me to shed a few tears, sharing his pain.
Finally he fell asleep, snuggling into my chest, snoring soundly, while I lay on my back, formulating a plan. Very slowly, I grabbed my phone from the side table and unlocked it, texting an old friend.
To: Private Number
Need some help.
From: Private Number
What can I do for you?
To: Private Number
Sharmin and Rameen Durrani flew within the last 15 days from Jinnah International Airport. Find out where they were headed.
My phone pinged 20 minutes later.
From: Private Number
Flew to Toronto. Layover at Doha and Zurich. Landed on the 19th.
To: Private Number
Find out where they are now.
Another ping within 5 minutes
From: Private Number
Had booked an AirBnb for a week, but have now purchased a house. Will send you the address shortly.
I smirked to myself as I kept the phone back on the table, turning to cuddle Sultan. He made a noise at the back of his throat and nestled his face further in my bosom, not waking up.
Sharmin Durrani was a fool if she thought she could play the victim card and escape with my boyfriend’s daughter. She honestly had no idea who she was messing with. I believed in justice, and while Sultan had paid for his sins, he was paying for what others did. That did not fit right with me. I would do anything for a smile to remain on my man’s face, no matter what extreme, as long as we were not criminals.
After all, if he was my deewana, then I was his deewani.
No more pain, betrayals, separation or tears.
Because this was our deewangi— a mutual fire that would burn anyone who tried to hurt either of us.
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