She kept tossing and turning on her large bed with her favourite baby pink bed sheet on, one of her pillows tucked comfortably under her head while the other rested in between her arms as she tossed it around along with her. She couldn't sleep today and that did not come out as a surprise to her.
She turned and laid herself straight on the bed, staring up at her ceiling counting the glow-in-the-dark stars she had up there. They always made her feel sleepy and relaxed but today even they had no effect on her mind. How would they? A lone tear drop made its way towards the side of her face, as she kept looking towards the ceiling.
She had seen the look of pride on her best friend, Noor's face today, outside their college, when her brother zoomed past them riding his Aston Martin, parking it in the no-parking zone and had stood in front of them, shielding them from the boys who had been earlier passing some nasty comments. She had looked on with envious eyes as Noor's brother had punched those boys straight in their faces, probably dislocating their jaws and then had smashed their heads with each other's without saying a single word, the look of anger, protectiveness enough to say the world.
She had seen how Noor's face has glowed as her brother made the boys apologize to them before making them run for their lives. And what stabbed her straight in her heart was when she saw Noor run over to her brother, engulfing him in a hug as he rubbed her back, and ruffled her hair affectionately.
Her brother had driven them back home but throughout the ride, she had remained quiet. She just looked out the window, avoiding meeting Noor's eyes for she knew her best friend would be able to look right through her. And she couldn't have let her know. Not ever.
Only she knew how much she missed her bhaijaan. How much she wanted him to be there with her, to protect her and chase away all the bad boys for her like Noor's brother did for her. Only she knew how much she longed to see her brother's face again every single day. How much it pained her to see other girls with their elder brothers when she was forced to stay away from her own.
She wiped her tear with the back of her hand and sat up straight on the bed, reaching towards her bedside table. She carefully opened the lower drawer and pulled out her favourite black coloured diary which had flowery patterns all across it and a pink ribbon tied on the cover page, which was given to her Noor. She closed the drawer carefully, comfortably settling herself on her bed again, her legs folded.
She turned on her bedside lamp, making the soft yellow light fall on the black diary she was now clutching tightly. She opened the diary to the last page, tracing her hand gently across the picture that had been glued there.
'Bhaijaan, please come back', she said the picture like every other night she would, her voice cracking.
She looked at her brother's eyes that were staring back at her, the small smile playing on his lips. She smiled looking at it, her eyes welling up with tears.
She turned the page and another picture of him greeted her. This time, he was not looking at the camera. This picture had her brother shaking hands with some foreign minister. She always adored how well dressed his brother always was, and loved that proud smile of his when he shook hands with some minister or even the president.
She turned the page and traced her hand on it, to stick back the corner of the pictures that had been dangling due to the glue wearing off. This page had around fifty small sized pictures of her brother. In some he was looking into the camera, in some he was being followed around by cameras, in some he sat with the VIP lot and in the others he simply sat with the television anchors.
'You're awesome, bhaijaan', she said smiling sadly.
Closing her diary and placing it back in the drawer, she once again laid down on her bed. There was only one thing she wished for. To meet her brother, to take a photograph of him herself. So before sleep when it refused to serve her, she could cherish that one moment looking at the photograph she herself clicked. Not the ones she had fished from various newspapers and magazines.
'It wasn't my fault, Bhaijaan', she spoke softly into her pillow. 'It wasn't my fault. Please come back'
**
Ayaan opened his apartment door with a click and escorted a very uncertain and frightened Zoya inside. He lived just two floors below Asad Ahmed Khan's apartment. He had wanted it this way so Ayaan could serve him whenever he wanted, even in the middle of the night if his boss needed a file or any other sort of assistance he couldn't wait for till the morning.
Zoya looked around the much smaller apartment. It was small but it was beautiful. Not luxurious like the earlier one, but decent enough for her liking. She was so grateful of not having to go back to that cell anymore. The minute she had been told she was free from that horrifying place, she had gone into a long, thankful Sajda, thanking Allah Almighty who had found a way to free her.
Who had given her a new life, away from the cruel world she had seen so up close. Ayaan had told her that it was Asad Ahmed Khan who had freed her from there, but this did not help the disliking she had for him subside.
A shiver ran down her spine as a flashback of some hours ago hit her. She quickly busied herself examining her new temporary house. She noticed the kitchen, so neat and so equipped. The lounge had a large LCD screen hanging on the wall. She noticed the soft lights in the room which she instantly liked.
But she did not want to live with a man she barely knew under the same roof. Yes he was a nice man from what she had observed, a decent, sympathizing man but how could she live here with him?
Ayaan saw the same worried expression on her face for the umpteenth time that day. He knew what she was thinking.
'Listen, you just have to stay here till you find yourself a nice home, then you can move out', he told her gently.
'But how can I? I mean I don't even know you properly', she replied, her eyes on the floor.
'I'm Ayaan, and i work for Asad Ahmed Khan, in the Dilshaad Industrial Company and I love pizza's, pastas and I am a total sucker for football', Ayaan said all in a single breath, tossing his blazer on the couch, before heading towards the kitchen. 'There, you know me a little more now'.
Zoya smiled, weakly. He was a good natured man and there was no denying that.
Zoya watched as he expertly started chopping cucumbers and placing them in the larger bowl.
'I will start looking for a job soon, and then I will move out', Zoya said not knowing how else to get rid of the awkwardness in the air.
'Make yourself at home', was all Ayaan replied, smiling at her. 'The one on the right is my room, you can choose any of the other two'.
'Hungry?', he asked her.
'No, thankyou', she replied.
He saw as she smiled at him, making her way to the room next to his. She was an injured soul and it would take her time to recover. He wanted to know more about her, just out of curiosity. He just hoped nothing bad happened to her again or else he would be responsible.
Only he knew why he was in the kitchen this late. After what happened today, he knew for sure sleep sill not be on his side. He had alot on his mind. Him running away from his sister's responsibility but a responsibility of another girl being forced to him. It was better he busied himself in the kitchen, he thought.
**
Zoya entered what would be her bedroom from now on till she found a new house for herself. It was nothing like the one she had back at home, but she was not complaining. Anything was worth being grateful to after that dark, smelly cell she had been living in or rather dying in since some time.
She walked further in. The room was nowhere as amazing as the one she had earlier woken up in, but this too had the same fluffy bed covers, and the clock hanging on the wall. She was glad to the dark painted room for she was not sure if she would be able to adjust to a fully lighted room just now.
She looked at the clock. Very little of the night was left now and Zoya felt it a wiser decission to explore the room later, but to sleeo just now. She took a quick bath, thanking the waters of erasing the man's touch from her body. She had no cother clothes than the ones she was wearing, the torn kurti, and her jeans so she just wore those before slipping into the bed. She covered herslef with the duvet, closing her eyes.
But sleep evaded her. Her mind kept replaying that scream. That scream she had heard just as they had stepped the foot outside Asad Ahmed Khan's apartment. She heard him scream 'Ammi'. She had earlier also heard him call out to his mother. It disturbed her and she didn't know why. The pain that scream held mirrored the pain in her heart. The anguish mirrored her owns. The depth of that scream was exactly the depth in hers. Although she disliked him heavily, she had no idea why she felt herself sympathise with him.
She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Two floors above a monster must be lying on his bed, screaming and calling out to his mother, she thought. But why? One moment he was the man on his knees calling out to his mother, pain evident in his features. Then the same man evolved into a monster nearing her to ravish her. A man in control, a man who looked like he ruled the world. Then again that scream. The vulnerable scream.
Zoya tossed herself to the other side and forced her eyes shut, knowing very well sleep would not be on her service today. But then it had been a long time she had slept peacefully, without anything to worry about.
**
Asad clutched onto the woolen sweater as he lay in his bed, under his duvet. Not once did he bother to change into his pajamas, he didn't care. He closed his eyes, he had to sleep. He had to go to the graveyard tomorrow like every year. He needed sleep.
As soon he closed his eye, honey-brown orbs full of fear, anger, pain stared back at him. He quickly opened them again, turning onto his other side, the sweater still between his arms. He once again tried, and the same image greeted him. The eyes full of fear. Because of him.
Why did he feel so bad? He yelled and shouted at the women in his office, and he saw many of such fearful eyes. Why did her's bother him?
Because you tried forcing yourself on her, the voice in his head replied him. You did what your father did to your mother.
He blinked away the tears in his eyes as the flashback that haunted him since years hit him once again.
An eight year old Asad sat on the bench outside the operation theatre, holding his father's hand, unable to cry anymore for he lacked the energy.
'Abbu, why is Ammi in there? When will she come out?', Asad asked for the umpteenth time.
Rashid had just pulled him into a side hug, and rubbed his arm to console a very impatient Asad.
'Soon, beta'.
They waited some more before the red light on top of the operation theatre went out. Asad saw his father standing up suddenly, alarmed, his hands joined together, tears rolling down his face. Asad too stood up, scared.
He saw a man wearing a white coart come out, wearing the most undecipherable expressions ever. Asad saw his father running to him, and he followed.
'Doctor, sab th-theek tou hai na?', he saw his father beg.
Asad saw how the man in the white coart shook his head placing his hand on his father's shoulder.
'I'm sorry. We could only save the baby. We're extremely sorry for your wife, we did everything we could'.
And that was when Asad's life had come to a standstill from then till now.
'I will neve forgive you Rashid Ahmed Khan, never!', Asad hissed into the sweater.
He closed his eyes once again and the honey-brown orbs greeted him again. This time he noted they held the same pain his heart held. The image in his head of that girl replayed in his head and he noticed the same fear his heart helt, the same loneliness his eyes held. Was there more to her fear than what she thought? Was she scared for something else too?
He didn't know why the girl's fear effected her so much, but he couldn't deny it did. And it did bad. It was almost like he was seeing a mirror with a crack in it when he thought of her. He couldn't explain the crack but it was there.
Why didn't he like the thought of her being afraid of him? Wasn't that what he wanted? Everyone to be afraid of him?
**
He looked at the photo on his bedside table, lying on his side, like he did everyday. His eyes then moved to the other photo next to it like it did everyday.
'I'm sorry Dilshaad, I'm so sorry', he cried into his pillow as he traced his hand on the picture.
He missed that genuine smile. Missed those long, silky brown hair he loved the smell of. He missed her laughter. He missed her. He missed her terribly. And today he missed her the most.
He looked onto the photo next to it and smiled sadly as the flashback from many years ago hit him like a strong wave.
As soon the doctors uttered those words, his world came crashing down. He fell on his knees, crying at his fate. Crying for the woman he had loved. Crying for what he had done. He was a murderer. The guilt would kill him forever.
He looked at his son standing next to him looking at him, tears rolling down his face.
Rashid held onto Asad by his upper arms gently and crashed him into his chest and cried harder. Rubbing his son's back, he cried for everything he had lost. A wife and a mother to the child in his arms.
'Your Ammi is dead, beta', he cried pulling Asad into him even tightly. 'She's dead and she will never come back!'
Not feeling any movement from his son's body, no crying no nothing pained him. He pushed him away to have a look at him and he saw his emotionless face, his eyes looking at him but anyone could tell his mind was was elsewhere. It broke Rashid's heart to see his son standing motionless, the streams of tears now drying and no fresh tears forming in his eyes.
That was when Rashid realised, he had lost his son. He had lost Asad and he had lost him forever.
'I'm sorry, Asad. Beta I'm so sorry!', Rashid cried looking at his son's photo, clicked years ago, as he stared back at him, smiling to him, his arms in the air, showing his tongue off.
Rashid knew he would not be able to sleep. Not today. Not for a minute. But he laid there, crying and remembering the two people he loved the most who were not with him today.
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