CHAPTER TWELVE
"I think we need to look at that lot deed, Mr. Khan," Zoya suggests.
Asad nods and leads her out of his room. He takes her hand, helping her keep her balance as they climb the stairs. Dilshad is in her room with her cell phone to her ear.
"Rohan, please call me back," she pleads. "I'm worried about you. I just want to know you're safe."
"Ammi, please hang up the phone," Asad demands, his voice tight with his urgency.
Dilshad turns to look at him. "Not now, Asad."
Asad opens his mouth to speak but Dilshad holds up her hand, fire in her eyes.
"Asad, you had no right to disrespect Rohan like that," she scolds. "You should speak to him like a reasonable adult if you have a problem with him."
"Ammi, listen to what he's done," Asad demands.
"It doesn't matter what he's done!" Dilshad lashes out. "He's our guest and he deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. If you couldn't discuss it with him, you should have come to me."
"Ammi, but you must listen to us." He crosses to her side
Dilshad turns her back on him. He takes the phone from her hand and disconnects the call.
"Asad!" Dilshad gasps. "Yeh kya badtameezi hai? How can you behave like this?"
"I'm sorry, Ammi, but you need to listen to me," Asad insists. "Rohan Saxena is up to no good and Ms. Farooqui nearly died because him!"
His voice breaks at the end, the remembered horror straining his voice. Zoya puts her good hand on his arm.
"Mr. Khan, no!" she pleads but the damage has already been done.
Dilshad turns her shocked gaze from Asad to Zoya then back to Asad. "What?"
Najma comes to the door. "What's wrong?"
Dilshad ignores her to focus on Asad. "What did Rohan do and how did Zoya nearly die because of it?"
Najma gasps. She and Zoya share horrified looks. They both turn to look at Asad. Zoya's eyes widen and she pleads silently with him. He shakes his head slowly.
"Show her, Ms. Farooqui," he orders.
"Mr. Khan, please..." Zoya begins.
"Zoya," Dilshad interrupts, her voice firm and serious. "Show me."
Again Zoya and Najma look at each other. Zoya bites into her lower lip but Najma nods to her mother. She crosses to Zoya's side.
"Zoya, you'll have to raise your arm." Najma's voice is soft and apologetic.
Zoya looks at Asad who also nods reassuringly. She sighs in defeat and holds up her arm. It shakes visibly. Gingerly, Najma unbuttons the sleeve and pulls up the puffy material. Dilshad gasps when she sees the thick bandage covering Zoya's lower arm.
"Zoya, why do you have this big bandage? At breakfast you said you hurt your arm again but you were fine. This is not fine! Why did you downplay your injury? What happened?" Dilshad presses closer.
Zoya doesn't look at her and instead turns to Asad again. He puts his hand under hers to support it while Najma gently unwinds the gauze to uncover the ugly row of stitches.
"Ya Allah!" Dilshad shrieks and covers her mouth with her hands. "Zoya, what happened to you?" she demands, her eyes filling with tears.
Zoya starts to cry, too. "I'm sorry, Phupee. I was only trying to protect you."
Dilshad pulls Zoya close, careful of her wounded arm. "Zoya, this is serious! How did this happen?"
Zoya shakes her head, overcome by sobs. Dilshad looks from Asad to Najma and back to Asad.
"What happened?" she demands. "Why is my bechaari Zoya in this condition?"
"Ammi," Asad begins.
Dilshad glares at him, Zoya still held close to her heart.
"Asad Ahmed Khan, don't you dare say woh bechaari nahi ha," Dilshad snarls, the fierce lioness protecting her cub. "I won't hear it!"
Asad shakes his head. "I wasn't going to say that." He swallows heavily. "I'm trying to tell you what happened."
Asad narrates the week's events with Najma chiming in to explain about their trip to the stadium and bringing Ayaan in to help. Zoya remains silent, tears streaming down her cheeks. As they explain, Dilshad pales, her face becoming starker and more ashen with every detail. She falls onto her bed, Zoya still in her arms. Their tears flow faster than she can manage. She wipes her face and Zoya's with her dupatta. By the time they finish their story, Najma is also openly weeping and Asad is choking back his own tears.
For a moment, no one speaks, their labored breathing more poignant in the heavy silence. Najma breaks the spell by dropping down on Dilshad's other side. She hugs her and Zoya.
"I'm so sorry, Ammi," she sobs. "We were trying to protect you. We never dreamt it would become this dangerous."
Dilshad releases one arm from Zoya to hold Najma close. She hugs both girls fiercely, shaking visibly. She tries several times before she overcomes her shock to form words.
"My girls," she cries. "I thanked Allah that my girls were so loving and supportive, but this is too much. It's too much!" She releases them and gets up from the bed. "And you!" She turns to Asad. "You really didn't know what they were doing?"
"No, not until this morning." Asad crosses his arms behind his back, his spine rigid. He holds himself tall and straight but his red, watery eyes, pressed lips and fast breathing give away the pain and guilt dulling his eyes.
Dilshad turns back to the girls again. Najma shifts closer to Zoya, her eyes downcast. Zoya remains silent.
"You didn't think to talk to me about this?" Dilshad demands. "You both took it upon yourselves to protect me without ever asking me if I was having trouble."
"Phupee, we were trying to save you from pain." Zoya finally speaks up. "We knew you liked Rohan and had worked so hard for the orphanage. We didn't want you to be hurt in any way."
"So you hid things from me and put yourself in mortal danger?" Dilshad demands. "Do I seem so weak to you that you thought I couldn't handle the truth?"
"No!" Zoya's eyes widen.
Both she and Najma shake their heads.
"That's not why, Ammi," Najma protests. "We just didn't want to burden you."
"Ya Allah." Dilshad covers her face with visibly shaking hands. "Some mothers weep because their children are cruel and selfish. My girls raise my blood pressure because they are too kind and too selfless."
Najma springs up from the bed to rush to Dilshad's side. Asad reaches her first and wraps his arm around his mother. Zoya gets up, too, but the pain killers and emotional turmoil make her reactions slow and sluggish. Asad helps his mother sit on her bed while Najma brings her blood pressure medicine.
"I'll get water," Zoya offers and turns for the door.
"Zoya, sit down!" Dilshad orders, her voice sharp and angry. "Najma will bring water."
Zoya stops in her tracks. She turns slowly and meets Najma's eyes. Najma swallows hard and hurries out of the room. Zoya sits down on the bed beside Dilshad, her eyes again downcast, unable to meet Dilshad's gaze.
"Asad, bring me fresh bandages and ointment," Dilshad orders.
"Ammi, you should rest," Asad soothes.
"Asad Ahmed Khan, do as I say." Dilshad's normally soft voice is hard with command.
Asad blinks at the harsh order but walks out without a word, leaving Zoya alone with Dilshad. Zoya keeps her head down but her nose is red and her shoulders shake with silent sobs. Dilshad touches her chin to raise her head. Zoya can't meet Dilshad's gaze, her dark, fearful eyes swimming with tears.
"Zoya, look at me." Dilshad's eyes are calm and warm, despite being wet with tears. "I want you to listen to me very, very carefully."
Zoya takes a deep, shuddery breath. She bites into her lower lip but her chin still trembles uncontrollably as she gathers the courage to look into Dilshad's eyes. Dilshad watches her for a few seconds, making sure she has Zoya's full attention.
"I love you, Zoya," she declares simply.
Zoya's face crumples but she's unable to speak. Her tears come faster.
"Your place is right here." Dilshad touches her heart. "Beside Najma and Asad. Do you know that?"
Zoya blinks rapidly, trying to clear her eyes, but the tears keep coming.
"Zoya, I love you as much as I love Najma and Asad," Dilshad continues, her voice softening but still clear and determined. "You are as precious to me as they are."
Zoya closes her eyes, her mouth dropping open with silent sobs.
"Look at me, Zoya,' Dilshad orders gently.
Zoya forces her eyes open. They are blood-shot and red-rimmed.
"I will always love you, Zoya," Dilshad vows. "Nothing you say or do will ever decrease or take away my love."
Zoya begins to cry openly.
"Do you believe me, Zoya?" Dilshad asks.
Zoya nods, crying too much to form words.
"You never need to earn my love or fear losing it." Dilshad cups Zoya's face in her hands and wipes away her tears. "A mother doesn't love her children because of what they do. She loves them for who they are. Asad is my strength, Najma is my pride and you, my darling, are my light. All of our lives are brighter because of you. You are my child, Zoya, and you will always be mine, no matter what."
Zoya throws her good arm around Dilshad's neck and weeps into her shoulder. Dilshad holds her close and smoothes down her braid, rocking her gently. A content maternal smile graces her lovely face as her wipes away her tears.
Dilshad looks over to the doorway, where Asad and Najma watch, their cheeks wet with their own tears. Najma wipes her face with her dupatta but Asad doesn't even seem to be aware that he's crying, his entire being focused on the love being shared by two of the most important women in his life. Dilshad nods and they come in.
"Here's water for you, Ammi." Najma holds out the glass. "I'll get your medicine."
"My blood pressure is fine." Dilshad takes the glass and brings it close to Zoya's mouth. "Asad, please bring me a wet towel."
Zoya tries to hold the glass but she is shaking too much, weakened from the emotional and physical overload. Asad goes into the washroom while Najma and Dilshad help Zoya drink. When Asad returns with the towel, his face is clear and composed. Dilshad wipes up Zoya's face then picks up the bandage and ointment.
"Now, what do we have to do?" she asks as she carefully tends to Zoya's arm.
Asad watches them for a few seconds before he speaks. "We need to see the deed for that lot, if you still have it."
Dilshad nods to her cupboard. "Yes, it's in the bottom drawer."
Asad opens the drawer and pulls out the thick file. He starts flipping through the pages. A photograph falls out and Najma bends to retrieve it. She looks at the image and her body freezes.
"What is it, Najma?" Dilshad glances up from where she is gently winding clean gauze around Zoya's arm.
Najma holds it up for her to see. "It fell out of the file."
The picture is a black-and-white shot, the edges worn from constant touching, the surface rippled and distorted from countless tear drops. It shows a younger Dilshad beaming down at the baby sleeping in her arms. A younger Rashid sits beside her, staring at her with loving pride. He holds two little boys in his lap, delighted smiles on their faces as they also gaze at the baby.
Dilshad breathes in sharply and takes the picture. She caresses the rippled surface and smiles sadly. "This is from when you were born."
"Ammi, please don't cry for him." Asad's voice is harsh and controlled. "He isn't worth any more of your tears."
"These aren't my tears on this picture, Asad," Dilshad says. "It was in the folder. These are your Abbu's tears."
"He's not my Abbu," Asad snarls.
Dilshad shakes her head but doesn't reply. She puts the picture down and returns to dressing Zoya's injured arm. Zoya opens her mouth to speak but stops as she sees Najma pick up the photo.
"Does everything in that folder belong to us, Bhaijaan?" she asks, studying the image.
"Najma, we don't need anything from Mr. Rashid Ahmed Khan." Asad continues to flip pages. "Everything he does causes us pain, including this."
Najma watches him. "How often did he buy property, Bhaijaan?"
Asad stops searching and looks at her with concern. "Tamatar, why does it matter?"
"I've always wondered how a man could go about his whole life without ever thinking of his children." Najma's voice is low and brittle. "This file proves he thought of us sometimes. I want to know how often."
Asad reaches for her. "Tamatar, don't do this to yourself. A few pieces of paper cannot make up for all he's done."
"I know," Najma agrees. "But, please, tell me."
Asad sighs but flips to the last page. "The oldest property is from ten years ago, on my birthday."
"And the newest property?" Najma probes.
Asad turns back to the front. "The day before your eighteenth birthday."
Najma comes closer and gazes at the file. "So every year, on our birthdays, he bought us a property."
"Najma, don't do this to yourself," Asad pleads.
"I won't." Najma assures him. "But is that true, Bhaijaan? Did he buy these properties on our birthdays?"
"Yes." Dilshad rises to join them. "Once he could afford it, your Abbu bought properties each year for you. It was his way of providing for your future."
"It doesn't change anything," Asad insists, his voice strained and harsh. "This is nothing compared to what he's taken from us."
"Asad, please." Dilshad reaches out to touch his shoulder.
Asad turns his back on her, flipping through pages furiously. Zoya comes up to wrap her good arm around Dilshad in support. Najma stares at the old photo for a long time before she hands it to Dilshad.
"At least he thought about us sometimes," Najma says sadly.
"Najma, don't think like that," Dilshad pleads, drawing her close. "Your Abbu has--"
"I found it," Asad interrupts. "The deed is here."
He takes out his cell phone and makes a call. Zoya, Dilshad and Najma huddle together, silently giving each other support as Asad paces. After a moment, he disconnects the call.
"The lot is clear," he announces. "The taxes are current and there are no liens against the property. NAAS Properties has a clean title to the lot."
"So all it would take for Rohan to buy the property is the deed itself, Mr. Khan?" Zoya clarifies.
She's calm now, her face composed and wiped clean of tears. Her reactions are still slow from the pain killers but focusing on the case has given Zoya back her spark. She smiles with her usual zest and brightness. Dilshad's face is still troubled.
"But why didn't Rohan just ask for the deed?" she wonders. "I would have given it to him if he'd just asked. He's done so much for the orphanage. This would have been nothing in return."
"There's something very important on that lot," Zoya explains. "Maybe he was afraid you'd refuse or whatever he's hiding is so big that he couldn't risk you asking questions."
"The lot is the key to all this," Asad points out. "I'm going there to see what this is all about."
"I'm going with you!" Zoya insists.
"So am I," Najma chimes in.
"As am I," Dilshad adds.
Asad stops at the door. "There's no reason for all of you to go. It's just a dirty, vacant lot in a run-down part of town."
"All the lots on that lane look the same. I can help identify it once we get there," Zoya reminds him.
"You're not leaving me behind," Najma protests. "I'm a part of this, too!"
Dilshad doesn't plead. She calmly picks up her purse and holds up her phone. "Are you going to drive us, Asad? Or should I call for my car?"
Asad looks from Zoya's eager face to Najma's stubborn pout to Dilshad's determined expression. He sighs, his mouth thinning into a disapproving frown.
"I'll drive." He shakes his head in ungracious defeat. "At least I'll be in control of something."
***
A short time later, Asad pulls his SUV to the side of the road. The factories along the street are closed but small shops and vendor stands are still open. Their merchandise is dusty and sparse, faded in the hot afternoon sun, manned by tired old men who only watch them with bored disinterest. Asad gets out first and looks around while the ladies alight. He beeps the car locked as Zoya leads them to the lane.
"I'm sorry to make everyone walk." She looks back over her shoulder as she leads them to the dirt path to the lot. "Mr. Khan's big car won't fit down this little road."
"Careful!" Asad reaches out to steady Zoya as they walk down the narrow lane.
"Sorry." She takes his hand. "The pain killers make my mind fuzzy."
Asad scowls and moves closer to her. His face is tight and strained but his hold is gentle and careful.
"What would someone as famous and important as Rohan Saxena want from such a dirty, forgotten area?" Najma watches the ground as she carefully moves along the rutted dirt path. "There is nothing here but old, broken-down factories."
"This is a back way for the factories around here," Zoya explains, holding tightly to Asad's hand to keep her balance as they progress down to the lot.
"Don't forget that Rohan wasn't born to wealth and privilege," Dilshad reminds them. "Many of the children at the orphanage are from areas like this. The old factories are shut down so the people who live here can't afford to feed their children. They send their children away in hopes they'll have a better life than they would living on the streets."
Despite her elegant clothes and regal bearing, Dilshad doesn't look out of place in the bleak surroundings. Unlike Asad, Zoya and Najma, she doesn't watch her step. She moves with grace and confidence, her pace smooth and measured, her footing sure and even. Her serenity and calmness are testimony to her unconditional acceptance and unprejudiced view of the world around her.
"The children here would have been forced to sell drugs or themselves if they didn't have resources like the orphanage to turn to," she finishes sadly.
Najma moves closer to Dilshad. "Is Rohan from this area, Ammi?"
"I don't know. He never spoke about it." Dilshad looks around with knowing eyes. "If he isn't from here, he's from a place like here."
Najma and Zoya look at each other with wide, stricken eyes. Asad ignores their exchange to focus on the path ahead of him. Suddenly he stops.
"What is it, Mr--" Zoya begins but Asad covers her mouth with his hand.
He nods to the motorbike half-hidden in the shrubbery. "Someone's here."
Zoya releases his hand and steps back, freeing her mouth, too. "It's the same bike that was parked at our house when we came home from picking up Najma." She keeps her voice low. "The headlight is shattered. I noticed it because it reminded me of the shattered SUV window but didn't think much of it."
"That explains how Rohan got around so easily," Najma says, pointing to the helmet lying beside the bike. "Once he was out of sight of his fans, he just put on a helmet and blended in with every other guy on a bike."
"No one knows to look for him so they don't see him," Zoya concludes. "My guess is his agent hid the bike for Rohan to get around after he snuck out of the cricket club."
The two exchange satisfied smiles, pleased with themselves for solving another piece of the puzzle. Asad scowls at them.
"You two may think you're so smart but you took dangerous and unnecessary risks," he scolds quietly. "Next time you try to be so clever remember how much your actions nearly cost us."
He looks pointedly at Zoya's arm. Immediately the girls' smiles fade and Zoya tucks her injured arm close to her body.
Asad nods curtly. "Okay. We're here. Rohan's here. Let's find out what this is all about."
A rat scuttles out of a garbage pile and stares at them with his beady eyes. Zoya shudders and Najma hides behind Asad. He jumps forward and waves his hands at the rodent. The rat twitches its whiskers and disappears back into the garbage. Zoya shudders again and Najma presses her head against Asad's arm.
"How do people live like this?" she whispers.
"Some people's lives are very, very difficult, Najma. That's why it's so important to help those in need." Dilshad looks around, unperturbed by the filth and poverty. "If this is Rohan's bike, where is Rohan?" Her voice is soft and concerned.
They stop at the entrance to the small lot. It's even dirtier and more run-down in daylight than it was at night. Piles of garbage litter the area and the small shack, with its missing walls and crumbling roof, sags sadly. There are holes everywhere. The ground has been dug up and piles of hard, packed dirt add to the litter and decay.
Suddenly Dilshad looks around, her eyes wide and anxious. "Rohan! I hear you. Where are you?" She hurries into the little lot, unmindful of the muck dirtying her expensive sandals.
"Ammi!" Asad reaches out for her.
Dilshad ignores his outstretched hand to hurry around behind the crumbling shack. Asad, Zoya and Najma race after her. They stumble to a stop at what they see.
Rohan is on his hands and knees beside one of the freshly dug holes. He's crying so hard his whole body shakes with the force of his sobs. Moisture pours out of his eyes, his nose and his mouth, soiling the already filthy ground. But he barely makes a sound other than desperate gasps, as if the pain inside of him is so great it has paralyzed his vocal cords.
"Rohan!"
Dilshad tries to go to him but Asad holds her arm, keeping her with them. Rohan looks up and twitches, much like the sad little rat. But, unlike the rat, Rohan doesn't have a garbage pile to hide in. He scuttles back until he hits the wall, his body still shaking with desperate sobs.
"Rohan, what happened?" Dilshad calls out.
She struggles but Asad doesn't release her. Rohan cowers against the wall, curling in a ball, his face hidden under his arms and his body shuddering with misery.
"Go away!" he sobs. "Please, Dilshad-ji, please go away."
"No, I won't!" Dilshad insists. "Asad, let me go. Rohan, what's wrong?"
"Please, Dilshad-ji, please," Rohan sobs. "I don't want you to see me like this."
Najma slides close to Zoya. Asad continues to hold Dilshad while looking at Rohan with a mixture of disgust and dislike. Dilshad twists her arm.
"Asad, let me go," she orders. "I have to help Rohan."
"You can't help him, Ammi," Asad says harshly. "Look at him. He's a pathetic, sniveling coward who can't even face you after what he's done."
"And what has he done, Asad?" Dilshad turns on her son. "What terrible crime has he committed to deserve your contempt? And who are you to stand in judgment of him?"
"He lied to you, Ammi," Asad reminds her. "He came into our home to steal from you!"
"I'm sorry, Dilshad-ji," Rohan whimpers, still curled tightly. "I'm so sorry."
"For which he deserves my anger and for which he owes me an explanation," Dilshad points out. "He's done nothing to you!"
"What about what Ms. Farooqui and Najma went through?" Asad's voice rises with his frustration. "He's responsible for that!"
"No, he's not!" Dilshad's voice sharpens, too. "He didn't hurt Zoya and he didn't put up that billboard."
"Why are you defending him?" Asad demands.
"Because he needs it!" Dilshad answers. "You can't condemn him for crimes he didn't commit!"
"Aah, but what about the crimes he did commit?" An oily voice says from behind them. "He can certainly be condemned - and jailed - for those."
Everyone except Rohan turns to look at the speaker. Rohan remains curled in a ball, lost in his misery. Asad releases Dilshad to grab Zoya and Najma, tugging them behind him.
"Who are you?" he demands.
"That's Arun Sharma, Bhaijaan," Najma explains. "He's Rohan's agent."
More men fill in behind Arun, filling the small space.
"That's Lucky, the property dealer," Zoya adds. "His son, Sunny, is the one in the jacket. The other men are probably the men who were here last night." She holds her injured arm close to her body as though afraid they'll hurt her again.
"From last night?"Asad growls, his hands curl into fists as he glares at the men. "Are you sure?"
"No, I'm not sure." Zoya glances down at his fists and swallows nervously. "It was dark and everything happened so fast."
Asad continues to stare at them, banked fury burning in his eyes. The men stay back, looking to Lucky for direction. Lucky nods to Arun who smiles and crosses to meet Asad and Dilshad.
"May I assume this lovely lady is the one and only Mrs. Dilshad Ahmed Khan?" Arun asks in his smooth, greasy voice. "Aah, Rohan, I can see why you practically worship the ground she walks on. She is most elegant, gracious and refined."
Rohan shudders and flinches as though Arun's words are a thousand hard lashes against his skin. Asad steps forward, blocking Arun's view of Dilshad.
"How dare you speak about my mother!" he snarls.
Arun sniffs. "And you must be the son, Asad Ahmed Khan."
"Asad Ahmed Khan," Lucky repeats. His eyes widen and shifts back. "The Asad Ahmed Khan?"
"Yes, I am." Asad doesn't spare him a glance, his focus still on Arun. "And this fool just insulted my mother. That is a very, very stupid thing to do."
"Arun, you should get away from him," Lucky advises. "He has a lot of influence in this town. You don't want to mess with him."
"Really?" Arun looks at Asad with more interest. "Why? What's so special about him?"
"I don't allow anyone to get away with hurting my family." Asad's voice is now equally quiet and calm. "Ever."
"But I didn't hurt your family," Arun says. "In fact, I just complimented your mother. I hear she's an exceptional woman. Rohan talks about her like she's an angel sent down by God himself."
"She is." Asad takes another step forward and raises his fists in a fighter's stance, bloodlust darkening in his eyes.
Arun looks at Asad's darkening expression and retreats a few steps. "Walk away, Asad Ahmed Khan. You don't want to be part of this mess."
"But I already am. I own this lot." Asad points out.
Arun looks past him to glare at Rohan. "You stupid fool! I sent you to do one, just one thing, and you screwed it up! Can't you do anything right? You're completely worthless!"
Rohan shudders but says nothing in his own defense.
"Stop it!" Dilshad orders. "How dare you speak to him that way?"
"You don't know him the way I do!" Arun snaps. "I've been cleaning up after him for five years. I've dragged him out of bars and strip clubs all over the world. He'd be so drunk out of his mind that he nearly died from alcohol poisoning a dozen times! He's a loser and he'll never be anything but a loser."
"That's not true!" Dilshad's voice rings out, so clear and sure, it echoes in the tiny, filth-strewn lot. "Rohan is a good person. He doesn't drink anymore. For the past three years, he's been clean and getting healthier and stronger every day."
"And you think that's because of you?" Arun demands. "That you say one kind word to him and all his sins are erased? It doesn't work like that. Get out of my way!"
He reaches out to push Dilshad aside. Dilshad gasps and leans away from him.
"Dilshad-ji!"
Rohan uncurls and leaps forward, ready to protect Dilshad even though he was unwilling to defend himself. He needn't have bothered. Asad is already there, his fist hitting Arun's jaw with a resounding thud before Rohan is even at Dilshad's side. Zoya and Najma both shriek and jump even further behind Asad. Arun spins in a full circle and staggers back from the force of the blow, clutching his damaged jaw.
"I...I'll sue you!" Arun threatens, his voice thick and slurred. "You assaulted me."
"Try it," Asad taunts, fists still ready. "You'll learn how much influence I really have."
Rohan shakes his head, suddenly animated. His skin's defeated pallor has been replaced by a furious flush. His pale blues eyes are alight from the fire raging within him.
"Don't you touch Dilshad-ji," Rohan screams, moving in front of Dilshad. "Do whatever you want to me but don't you ever touch her."
"Poor, poor Rohan." Arun taunts. "Nobody loves you. She doesn't love you, either. She tolerates you, uses you, just like the rest of us. Why would she want a mongrel like you? Look at her elegant clothes, her beautiful children, her perfect life. Why would she want you when she already has her own family?" His voice rises to a harsh shriek. "An orphan can never replace real family. No one wants you!"
Zoya sucks in her breath and stumbles back, even though the barb wasn't intended for her. Najma follows after her and hugs her tight. Asad keeps a wary eye on the men while Rohan faces off with Arun.
"It doesn't matter!" he screams. "It doesn't matter if Dilshad-ji doesn't care about me. Nothing gives you the right to touch her!"
"Rohan, it's alright," Dilshad soothes. "His words are just that, only words. They can only harm you if you let them. You're better than what he says. Don't let him get to you."
"Aww, how sweet," Arun croons. "She's trying to build you up. That won't last. Your mommy figure will be as repulsed by you as the rest of us when she finds out what a disgusting, depraved, miserable excuse for a human being you really are."
"No," Rohan pleads, shaking his head. "Please, don't do this, Arun. Don't tell her."
Arun's mouth curves into an evil smile. "You think you can still keep it a secret? Okay then, walk away from her. Forget about this town, that miserable orphanage and those damned brats. All the time you waste on caring for them takes away from your potential earnings."
"No, please, Arun," Rohan begs. "Don't take this away from me. It's all I have. It's the only reason I can get up in the mornings."
"Don't you get it, you stupid fool?" Arun berates him. "You don't have this anymore. You screwed it up, not me! Even if I can somehow save your ass, as usual, you can never come back here. Why are you always causing me such trouble?"
Arun slaps Rohan on the side of his head, the impact so jarring Rohan jerks in reaction. But he doesn't try to defend himself or push Arun away. He just curls his hands close to his chest and shuts his eyes, as if waiting for the next blow.
"Rohan!" Dilshad puts her hand on his shoulder and tries to pull him back.
Arun turns to her but Asad is there. He hits Arun with so much force the agent stumbles back into Lucky, knocking them both to the ground.
"Don't touch my mother!" Asad roars.
"Don't touch my father!" Sunny yells back and launches himself at Asad.
Sunny is no match for Asad who pushes him back with one hard shove. Unfortunately, he shoves Sunny into Lucky's men, who advance on him. Lucky picks himself up and dusts off his shirt.
"I've heard a lot about your reputation, Asad Ahmed Khan, but I never heard how stupid you were," he taunts. "You may be able to fight one man but I have ten men. They will teach you a lesson you'll never forget."
"Asad!" Dilshad reaches for her son.
Asad avoids her hands, his attention on the men. "Ammi, stay back."
"Asad, you can't fight them all," Dilshad cries. "He has ten men!"
"And I have ten bullets." Rohan suddenly whips out a pistol.
Everyone stops, including Arun who is still on the ground. Dilshad puts her hands to her mouth. Asad grabs her and shoves her behind his back. He looks over to Zoya and Najma, who are backing even further away.
"Put that away, you fool!" Arun orders. "You're as stupid with a gun as you are with everything else. With my luck, you'll only end up shooting yourself and leave me with a mountain of medical bills!"
Rohan points the gun at Arun. "Or maybe I should just shoot you. After all, you would never expect better from me."
The blood drains from Arun's face and his mouth drops open. His eyes bulge and he gasps for air like a fish without water. He sputters several times before he can speak.
"Rohan, you don't want to do this," Arun puts his hands up in a conciliatory gesture, his oily tone turning desperate. "You're emotional right now and you're not thinking."
Rohan's hand holding the gun shakes. "According to you, I never think. I'm a fool and a loser. You say no one will tolerate me except you. So who should lose with me but you?"
Asad backs away, keeping Dilshad safely behind him. He looks at Zoya and Najma again. The girls continue to back up while trying to avoid the holes in the ground.
"Rohan, I can still salvage this," Arun soothes. "You just need to leave Bhopal. I can clean all this up when you're gone."
"I don't want to leave Bhopal!" Rohan screams. "People here like me, they want me! For three days I had a place, I had a home." His voice breaks over the word. "I'd rather die here than continue to live in my hell."
Suddenly he turns the gun away from Arun and shoves it under his own chin.
"Rohan!" Dilshad screams and tries to dart around Asad.
"No, Ammi!" Asad catches her waist and pulls her back to him.
"Rohan, don't do this!" Arun orders, backing away from Rohan on his hands and knees.
"Asad, let me go!" Dilshad struggles to free herself. "Rohan needs me!"
Rohan looks at her. "I'm so sorry, Dilshad-ji. I tried so hard to make you proud. I thought if you found worth in me, I could be worthy. But it's not that simple, is it?"
"Rohan, what have you done?" Dilshad cries. "What is so horrible that you allow this miserable man to abuse you? What is so terrible that you'd rather die than face it?"
Zoya and Najma continue to back away, their arms wrapped around each other. Suddenly Najma loses her balance. Zoya throws her weight forward to keep Najma from stepping into the hole, wincing as the movement pulls on her wounded arm. She looks down to make sure Najma is clear of the obstacle and freezes at what she sees.
"Allah miya," she gasps.
She looks back at Rohan, whose whole body has begun to convulse.
"Rohan," she speaks quietly but her voice trembles. "There's a skeleton buried here. Do you know about it?"
Rohan's face crumples and he falls to his knees, the gun weaving dangerously under his chin. "Yes. It's Rohit. I killed him," he sobs, his voice so anguished it sounds as if the confession is torn out of his soul. "I killed my own brother!"
CID
Current Affairs
Hindi TV Shows
46