Kay

Most days, Uzair wasn't entirely sure when his life had stopped being his and had become theirs.

Nobody had sat him down and announced it, and he certainly hadn't experienced the sort of life-changing revelation novels seemed so fond of. Somewhere between Ulfat bhabhi insisting his wife needed copies of all the house keys,Rehman bhai developing the alarming habit of asking her where his medicines were instead of the woman he had actually married, and Faizal concluding that scraped knees, broken toys and minor tragedies all belonged under her jurisdiction despite possessing two perfectly competent parents, and even Naeem had somehow started complaining to her whenever Faizal cheated at board games.

It had happened so gradually that he couldn't have pointed to the exact moment if somebody had asked. One day she had been his wife in the formal sense, a person sharing his room and his surname, and then somewhere along the way she had become woven into the ordinary rhythm of the house so completely that imagining things without her required considerably more effort than he cared to admit.

Which, he suspected, was exactly how families worked.

This morning, for example, he was sitting at the dining table pretending to watch football highlights while she stood in the kitchen committing unspeakable crimes against tea.

"Bas kar do," he called out. "Chai bana rahi ho ya sharbat?"

Without even turning around, she added another spoon. "Tumhari zindagi mein mithaas ki kami hai."

"Meri kidney ki koi dushmani hai tumse?"

"Allah ne do di hain."

"Mujhe dono pasand hain."

She laughed, and despite himself Uzair lowered his phone to look at her properly.

There were things he'd left behind without much ceremony. School had been one of them, and probably a few dreams too. Football, however, had survived. Chai had survived. Kulfi had survived. And for reasons that Allah alone could explain, he had apparently never managed to stop looking at the girl he'd first seen wearing yellow.

Years later, that same girl was sitting across from him complaining about the pale yellow dupatta draped over her shoulders. He knew the choice had been accidental because she'd spent the last ten minutes objecting to it.

"Yeh rang mujhe suit nahi karta."

Uzair had nearly choked on his tea. "Ye kaisi bakwas baatein kar rahi ho subah subah?"

"Arey bakwas nahi, sachi bol rahi hu."

"Jhoot."

"Acha ji?"

"Bilkul."

"Tumhe sab pata hai?"

He had merely shrugged.

She didn't know. Had never known, in fact, that the first time he'd seen her she had been wearing yellow. The first kulfi they'd shared after a particularly disastrous attempt at spending time together had come wrapped in yellow paper. The first gift she'd bought him had arrived in yellow packaging because she'd forgotten his favourite colour and guessed.

For some reason, most of the memories he liked keeping seemed to circle back there.

The only exception had been the nikkah. For weeks afterwards he had complained to Rehman bhai that red was overrated, and Rehman had laughed so hard that Ulfat bhabhi threatened to confiscate his cigar.

"Pagal ho gaya hai tu", Rehman would mutter everytime with a smirk.

Perhaps. But Lyari had exposed him to stranger things than madness. He had witnessed people putting pineapple on pizza and had somehow survived watching his wife attempt to understand football, which was exactly what Naeem was trying to inflict upon her now.

"Chachi, offside samjhaun?"

"Nahi."

"Magar—"

"Naeem beta, main tumhare Abbu ka business samajh sakti hoon, main tumhari Ammi ki biryani ka secret samajh sakti hoon aur main tumhare chachu ko samajhne ki koshish bhi karti hoon. Football ka zyada sabr Allah ne mujhe nahi diya."

The sound that escaped Uzair's nose into his tea was suspiciously close to a laugh, and Faizal, who considered exposing people one of his sacred duties, immediately pointed at him.

"Dekha! Chachu has rahe hain."

"Iss mein dekhne wali kya baat hai?"

"Kal bhi hase thay."

"Main roz hasta hoon."

"Jhoot."

Uzair looked personally offended. "Tu zyada bolne laga hai."

Faizal grinned shamelessly. "Chachi ke saath rehta hoon."

That explained far more than Uzair cared to admit.

"Isko sambhalo," he informed her.

She looked up from the peas she was shelling. "Mera kya qasoor hai?"

"Yeh tumhari sohbat ka asar hai."

Faizal gasped dramatically. "Chachu!"

"Maine sach bola."

"Chachi!"

She placed a hand over her heart. "Beta, tumhare chachu bohat sangin ilzaam laga rahe hain. Mujhe lagta hai ab humein kisi achhe lawyer ki zarurat padegi."

"Mujhe Naeem bhai chahiye."

Naeem straightened immediately.

"Main mehenga lawyer hoon."

"Aaj homework kiya hai?" Uzair asked mildly.

The transformation was immediate.

"Yeh personal hamla hai."

Even she burst out laughing at that, and when Uzair glanced in her direction, she caught the small smile that appeared before he remembered himself and tried to hide it.

Unfortunately for him, Faizal noticed.

"Dekha! Phir hanse."

"Allah ke liye mujhe chai peene do."

"Phir maan lo."

"Kya?"

"Ke aap haste ho."

Uzair sighed. "Galti meri hai."

Faizal blinked. "Kya?"

"Tumhari chachi se nikkah ki. Ab poora ghar zyada bolta hai."

She immediately threw a cushion at him.

Years of football and a deeply irritating talent for catching anything thrown in his direction , unfortunately, had made him impossible to ambush, and he caught it one-handed without even looking up from his tea, which only caused everyone else to laugh harder.

By afternoon the haveli had settled into its usual rhythm. Rehman bhai had gone to the shop, Ulfat bhabhi was arguing with the vegetable seller over the phone as though the poor man had personally ruined her life, Naeem was pretending to study, Faizal was definitely not studying, Uzair was just sitting and watching his wife,who had somehow managed to turn a science project into a family emergency.

"Uzair."

"Hm."

"Thermocol khatam ho gaya."

"Toh?"

"Toh Faizal ka model kaise banega?"

"Faizal ka project hai."

"Faizal mera beta hai."

Faizal beamed immediately. "Dekha?"

Uzair looked up from the papers in his hand. "Tere maa-baap zinda hai."

Faizal thought about it. "Do baap ho sakte hain?"

"Bilkul nahi."

"Do maa?"

Uzair’s answer was interrupted by his wife who clutched her chest dramatically. "Ek asli maa aur ek favourite maa."

"Main sun rahi hoon."

Ulfat bhabhi's voice came from the kitchen and everyone froze. A second later she appeared in the doorway with the expression of a woman who had just discovered a conspiracy.

"Favourite maa?"

Faizal, who had clearly inherited survival instincts from absolutely nobody, pointed towards his chachi without hesitation. "Chachi ne bola."

"Jhoota!"

"Kasam se."

"Acha?" Ulfat bhabhi demanded. "Toh main kya hoon?"

Nobody got the chance to answer because Rehman bhai chose that exact moment to walk in and announce, with all the dignity of a man who had no idea what disaster he had interrupted,

"Mujhe bhook lagi hai."

After twenty years of marriage, Ulfat bhabhi still loved him enough to feed him before murdering everyone else,and the matter might have ended there if Uzair's phone hadn't rung. He glanced at the screen, frowned slightly, and accepted the call.

"Haan."

Nobody thought much of it at first. Hamza called people the way people breathed, and most of those calls involved unnecessary levels of urgency over things that turned out to be entirely survivable. Rehman bhai was already removing his shoes.

"Utha le. Warna yahan aa jayega."

Something in Uzair's expression changed as he listened. Not enough for most people to notice, but enough for his wife, who had become alarmingly good at distinguishing between his ordinary hm and his worried hm.

"Haan, aa raha hoon."

He disconnected and reached for his keys.

"Kya hua?" Ulfat bhabhi asked.

"Kuch nahi."

His wife immediately frowned. "Abhi?"

"Hm."

"Khana?"

"Baad mein."

"Uzair."

"Hm."

"Baad mein kab?"

He was already putting on his shoes. "Pata nahi."

Rehman bhai looked up. "Hamza hai?"

"Hm."

"Phir Allah hafiz. Wapas aa jana."

"Hm."

His wife watched him leave and shook her head. "Tum dono ek jaise ho."

"Haan," Rehman bhai agreed cheerfully. "Bas Hamza zyada bolta hai."

Nobody worried. Hamza and Uzair disappearing unexpectedly had become so normal that the family had stopped asking questions years ago. Ulfat bhabhi returned to the kitchen, Rehman bhai finally got his lunch, Naeem resumed pretending to study and Faizal completed approximately half of his science project before deciding the remaining half was a problem for future generations.

By evening, however, she had stopped finding the situation amusing. Dinner time came and went, Rehman bhai returned from the shop, old songs drifted from somebody's television and Ulfat bhabhi had started arguing with Naeem about homework, but Uzair still hadn't come home.

By the time Uzair returned home, dinner had long since gone cold. It was close to ten by the time he finally pushed open the door to their room.

The cut near his eyebrow had dried into a thin dark line and there was a bruise forming around his wrist that would almost certainly be worse by morning, but neither injury seemed particularly noteworthy. He had lived in Lyari long enough to know the difference between something serious and something that would simply hurt for a few days.

His wife, however, had very different standards when it came to these things.

Ulfat bhabhi had reheated dinner twice before eventually giving up and declaring that if Uzair wanted to starve then that was his own problem. Rehman bhai had gone to bed an hour ago, confident that his younger brother would handle things and remain safe, and the boys had been sent upstairs after producing increasingly ridiculous theories regarding their missing chachu, including one involving a secret football match and another involving a kidnapping that somehow ended with free biryani.

His wife had remained awake.

She was sitting cross-legged on the bed with one of Naeem's mathematics notebooks open in front of her and a huge cup of tea balanced beside her elbow. Judging by the amount of sugar she had added, the tea was probably violating several medical guidelines.

Uzair placed his keys on the table and tried to sound as though the last few hours had been perfectly ordinary.

"Khana kha liya?"

"Haan."

The answer came so quickly that he almost smiled despite himself.

"Nahi khaya."

"Kha liya."

He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, studying the unusually huge cup of tea beside her that had enough sugar to concern several doctors.

"Wahi baat phir se."

That finally earned him a look. "Kya phir se?"

"Mujhe bewaqoof samajhna."

"Tumhare liye woh kaam waise bhi zyada mushkil nahi hai."

Normally, that would've earned a response. Today, he merely rubbed a tired hand over his face.

"Kaam tha."

"Haan."

"Hamza ka phone aaya tha."

"Haan."

"Thodi tension wali baat thi."

"Haan."

Every answer arrived in exactly the same soft voice. There was no anger in it. No sarcasm either. For reasons he couldn't properly explain, that worried him far more than if she had started shouting the moment he'd entered the room. At least when she argued, he knew where he stood. This strange calm felt unfamiliar, and unfamiliar things had never sat comfortably with him.

She stirred her tea slowly before speaking again, "Tumhein pata hai tumhari problem kya hai?"

"Kya?"

"Tum sab kuch khud uthane lagte ho."

"Main aa gaya na."

"Aur agar na aate?"

The response was so quiet that it took him a second to understand what she'd actually said. His head lifted immediately.

"Aisi baatein mat karo."

"Aisi baatein?" she repeated, looking at him properly now. "Uzair, aadmi ghar se nikle aur phir ghanton tak koi khabar na ho toh biwi pareshaan hoti hai."

"Tumhein mujh par bharosa nahi hai?"

That question made something soften in her expression. There was no annoyance there, only the same tired worry that had been sitting behind her eyes ever since the hospital.

"Bharosa tum par hai."

She paused briefly before adding in a quieter voice, "Duniya par nahi."

Outside, somebody's television had apparently decided the entire mohalla needed to enjoy old film songs together, and somewhere in the courtyard a child was crying with the dedication of a man protesting a great injustice. Neither of them paid attention.

"Tum hamesha aise hi karte ho."

"Kaise?"

"Sab kuch khud sehne wale."

"Har baat batani zaroori nahi hoti."

"Har baat chhupani bhi zaroori nahi hoti."

"Main theek hoon."

"Yahi toh problem hai."

"Kya?"

She pointed her spoon at him. "Yeh jo tumhari aadat hai na. Jahan tumhein lagta hai ke mushkil aaye toh tum akele sambhal loge aur baaki sab ko bacha loge."

"Main bas—"

"Main jaanti hoon." Her voice softened immediately. "Bohot pehle se jaanti hoon."

Something in the way she said it pulled his thoughts unexpectedly backwards. Back to narrow lanes and stolen conversations. Back to a girl who used to flirt with shameless confidence while he stood there wondering how any human being could talk so much without stopping for breath. Back then, he'd honestly assumed she would eventually get tired of him.

Instead she'd somehow made herself at home in every part of his life.

And now she sat across from him with worry in her eyes, as though his silence frightened her more than anything else as she asked,

"Aur agar mujhe dar lage toh?"

"Tumhein darr kis baat ka hai?"

"Tumhara."

The answer came immediately.

"Tumhara kaam. Tumhari zidd. Aur yeh aadat ke sab kuch khud seh loge."

He frowned slightly. "Main sambhal leta hoon."

"Haan." She smiled faintly. "Wahi toh masla hai."

"Masla?"

"Tum sambhal lete ho. Phir kuch nahi bolte. Phir thak jaate ho. Phir aur chup ho jaate ho. Aur baaki sab ko lagta hai sab theek hai."

"Sab theek hi hota hai."

"Nahi." The word came gently. "Sab theek nahi hota, Uzair. Bas tum kisi ko pata nahi chalne dete."

He did not answer immediately. The problem with being married to her was that she had developed the deeply irritating habit of saying things quietly instead of dramatically, and somehow those quiet observations managed to unsettle him in ways no weapon or fight ever could. 

She lowered her eyes towards her tea before speaking again. "Mujhe tumhari bahaduri se problem nahi hai."

"Phir?"

"Mujhe tumhari aadat se problem hai."

"Kis aadat se?"

"Yeh wali." She pointed her spoon towards him. "Jahan tumhein lagta hai ke agar tum toot gaye toh duniya ruk jayegi."

Something dangerously close to amusement flickered across his face. "Main itna khaas hoon?"

"Tum apne dimag mein toh ho."

"Accha."

"Haan."

"Tumhara khayal hai main apne aap ko bohot badi cheez samajhta hoon?"

"Mera khayal hai tum khud ko insaan samajhne se zyada zimmedari samajhte ho."

His expression changed slightly. "Ab yeh kya naya masla hai?"

"Masla naya nahi hai."

"Phir?"

"Bas tum sunte nahi ho."

"Tum sunane ka mauqa bhi kahan chhodti ho?"

She stared at him. "Acha. Ab meri ghalti hai."

"Maine yeh nahi kaha."

"Keh diya."

"Maine bas—"

"Nahi, Uzair. Tum bas kuch nahi karte. Tum bas sab kuch khud seh lete ho, khud faislay karte ho, khud pareshan hote ho aur phir umeed karte ho ke baaki sab muskura kar maan lein ke sab theek hai."

"Sab ko har baat batana zaroori nahi hota."

"Biwi ko bhi nahi?"

He sighed. "Tum baat ko ghalat taraf le ja rahi ho."

"Nahi. Tum baat ko kahin le hi nahi jaate. Yahi toh problem hai."

"Tumhein har baat ka drama banana zaroori lagta hai."

Her head lifted immediately. "Drama?"

"Haan."

The word had barely left his mouth before he knew he had chosen badly.

"Accha. Toh ab fikr karna drama ho gaya?"

"Mera woh matlab nahi tha."

"Tumhara matlab mujhe samajh aa gaya."

"Nahi samjha."

"Samajh aa gaya."

"Tum jaan boojh kar—"

"Main?"

She laughed once, though there was very little humour in it.

"Main jaan boojh kar kar rahi hoon? Uzair, tum ghanton gayab rahe. Phone tak nahi kiya. Ghar aaye ho toh mujhe samjha rahe ho ke main zyada soch rahi hoon."

"Main aa gaya na."

"Haan. Aur agar na aate?"

"Aisi baatein mat karo."

"Aur tum aisi harkatein mat karo."

She lowered her gaze back to the notebook, pretending to concentrate on whatever mathematical disaster Naeem had left behind for her to solve. Uzair knew she was no longer reading it properly. She knew he had stopped paying attention to the newspaper ten minutes ago.

Outside, the old film song finally ended. Somewhere downstairs a door shut. A motorcycle passed through the lane before disappearing into the distance and slowly the neighbourhood began settling into the familiar rhythm of late night Lyari.

Eventually she closed Naeem's mathematics notebook and pushed it aside. The tea had gone cold somewhere in the middle of their argument, but neither of them mentioned it.

"I'll switch off the light," she said quietly.

"Haan."

That was all.

There was no apology and no attempt to continue the conversation. A few moments later the lamp clicked off and darkness settled over the room. She lay down first and turned towards the wall while Uzair remained sitting for several seconds before eventually lying down beside her.

Their bed was not particularly large, and over the months they had somehow developed the habit of occupying it as though personal space was a matter of opinion rather than necessity. Tonight, however, there was a small gap between them. It wasn't large enough to matter, but it was large enough for both of them to notice, which somehow made it infinitely more irritating.

Uzair lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, stubbornly trying to convince himself that he was no longer thinking about the conversation. Unfortunately, years of being in love with her had taught him far too much about the woman sleeping beside him, and after several minutes he realised from the rhythm of her breathing that she wasn't asleep either.

The discovery should not have brought him any comfort. But for some reason, it did.

Time passed slowly. At one point he was almost certain she shifted slightly before going still again, and he found himself wondering whether she had remembered she was supposed to remain annoyed. The thought nearly made him smile. Nearly.

Across the bed she let out a quiet sigh, the sort people made when they were tired rather than angry, and something about the sound made him open his eyes again. He could apologise. The words themselves were not difficult. The problem was that he had spent most of his life carrying things quietly, and he wasn't entirely sure how to explain habits that had existed long before she had.

Perhaps she was thinking something similar because she did not turn around and he did not reach for her. The disagreement remained exactly where they had left it, accompanied by the concern and affection that neither of them had managed to get rid of despite their best efforts.

Sometime after midnight exhaustion finally overpowered stubbornness. There was still no peace between them and certainly no resolution, but sleep eventually found two people lying on opposite sides of the same bed, equally annoyed with one another and equally incapable of stopping themselves from worrying anyway.

Phir se.

Breakfast the next morning was awkward, which would've been manageable if Faizal had inherited even a single ounce of discretion from his father. Unfortunately, Allah had blessed the child with many qualities, and restraint was not among them.

Halfway through breakfast, he looked from one side of the table to the other and announced with the enthusiasm of somebody discovering state secrets, "Chachu ne phir se kuch kiya?"

Naeem immediately lowered his head and focused very hard on his paratha. "Faizu, chup kar."

"Nahi, sach bol raha hoon."

Rehman sighed. "Beta, shaadi ke baad aadmi kuch na kuch karta hi rehta hai."

Ulfat bhabhi nodded solemnly.

"Aur uski biwi sirf sabr karti rehti hai."

Then she looked at both of them properly, first at Uzair and then at his wife, before looking back again with the expression of a woman whose twenty years of marriage had bestowed upon her many talents.

"Na."

Rehman bhai continued eating.

"Kya na?"

"Kuch hua hai."

"Kaise pata?"

"Bees saal ki shaadi hui hai meri."

Nobody argued with that, and Faizal immediately straightened in his chair.

"Chachu aur chachi ne fight ki hai?"

"Nahi." "No."

Both answers arrived together, which caused the entire table to fall silent for exactly one second before Naeem pointed triumphantly.

"Dekha?"

Faizal's eyes widened. "Dono ne alag zubaan mein bola."

"Pakki wali fight hai."

Uzair closed his eyes briefly. "Allah."

"Humne jhagda nahi kiya."

"Haan," Faizal agreed seriously. "Isi liye subah se aap dono ek dusre ko dekh bhi nahi rahe."

Unfortunately, the child had chosen honesty today. Across the table his wife suddenly found her tea extremely fascinating, which Uzair considered a personal betrayal.

"Faizu."

"Haan chachu?"

"Khamosh."

"Main sach bol raha hoon."

"Naeem."

"Haan?"

"Isko le ja."

"Main kyun?" Naeem protested immediately. "Main bhi dekh raha hoon."

That was enough to make Rehman bhai laugh. "Bachon ko rehne do. Tumhari shakal dekh ke hi pata chal raha hai."

"Bhai."

"Kya bhai? Aankhen hain meri."

Ulfat bhabhi clicked her tongue. "Kal raat se baat nahi hui?"

"Hui thi." "Nahi hui thi."

This time even Rehman bhai stopped eating. Faizal slapped the table triumphantly while Naeem nodded with all the wisdom granted by being older by exactly two years.

"Maine bola tha."

"Mujhe pehle hi pata tha." Ulfat bhabhi placed a hand over her forehead.

"Bhabhi."

"Nahi, mujhe kuch nahi kehna."

Like every other time she uttered those words, they were immediately followed by her saying quite a lot.

"Main pehle hi keh rahi thi. Shaadi mein do cheezein zaroori hain. Baat karna aur khana khana."

Rehman bhai nodded sagely. "Teesri cheez bhi."

Everyone turned to him and asked simultaneously.

"Kya?"

He shrugged. "Biwi ki baat maan lena."

"Beshak," Ulfat looked proud of her husband.

Uzair nearly choked. "Bhai."

"Kya bhai? Tajurba bol raha hai."

"Abbu toh roz daant khate hain," Faizal informed the table cheerfully.

"Faizal."

"Haan?"

"Khamosh."

"Main sach bol raha hoon."

"Har sach bolna zaroori nahi hota," Naeem informed him with the dignity of somebody older by exactly two years and therefore infinitely wiser.

"Magar Ammi kehti hain jhoot nahi bolna."

"Allah mera sabr."

By then even Rehman bhai had given up pretending to be sensible and burst out laughing again, while Ulfat bhabhi shook her head at both children as though Allah had personally assigned them to test her patience. Faizal, meanwhile, looked deeply offended that nobody appreciated his commitment to honesty, and Naeem had already begun explaining why speaking every truth was not, in fact, a personality trait.

Just a minute later, nobody knew where the conversation had gone anymore.and somehow the conversation had drifted away from the original problem and settled on the theory that the argument had probably involved tea, because apparently every major crisis in this household revolved around tea.

"Chachi ne zyada cheeni daali hogi", Faizal theorised.

"Nahi," Naeem corrected immediately. "Chachu ne kam karne ko bola hoga."

Faizal gasped. "Phir toh galti Chachu ki hai."

"Bilkul."

"Arrey!"

The protest escaped Uzair before he could stop it, and at exactly that moment a tiny sound slipped out of her. It wasn't proper laughter, merely a small snort she failed to suppress, but after spending almost twenty-four hours deliberately avoiding each other's eyes, both of them betrayed themselves at the exact same moment.

His head turned instinctively and she looked up, and neither of them smiled or apologised or attempted to say any of the things they probably should have said. After an entire evening of irritation and wounded pride, that one glance somehow managed to carry everything they had failed to put into words. The annoyance was still there and so was the stubbornness, but beneath both sat something much older and considerably more difficult to get rid of. 

Naturally, Ulfat bhabhi noticed.

"Wah."

Rehman bhai looked up from his plate with the expression of a man who had already understood the situation and had decided it was none of his business.

"Wah."

"Bhabhi..."

"Nahi, mujhe kuch nahi kehna."

Which was, once again, a complete lie. So by the time breakfast ended, the entire family was in a significantly better mood than before..

The boys, having already abandoned the subject of their uncle and aunt's disagreement, somehow resumed fighting over a cricket bat with enough passion to suggest national honour was involved, and the tension that had followed Uzair and his wife to bed the previous night had begun to loosen around the edges, not because either of them had won or surrendered, but because in this family even private disagreements came with spectators, commentary and entirely too much unsolicited advice.

Later that night, while Rehman bhai and Ulfat bhabhi conducted their daily disagreement over whose turn it was to lock the gate and Naeem threatened murder because Faizal had hidden his charger in a place known only to Allah and irresponsible younger brothers, Uzair found her standing alone on the balcony.

He walked over quietly and stopped beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed lightly, and for a few moments neither of them spoke. The sounds of Lyari drifted upward from below, familiar enough that they had long ago stopped noticing them, and perhaps that was why his apology came without much thought.

"I'm sorry."

She turned immediately. "You don't have to say sorry."

"Haan," he admitted softly. "Lekin kehna tha."

She studied him for a moment before sighing. "Mujhe pata hai tum jaan bujh kar nahi karte. Mujhe yeh bhi pata hai ke tum baat karne mein bohat bure ho."

"Shukriya."

"Yeh tareef nahi thi."

"Haan."

The smile that appeared on her face was small, but after spending the entire day stubbornly avoiding each other, it felt strangely precious.

"You know," she said after a moment, "hum dono yeh phir se karenge."

"Kya?"

"Yahi. Galat samajhna."

He couldn't even argue with that because she wasn't wrong. Life had a strange habit of bringing them back to the same places again and again. Fear returned. Arguments returned. Old habits returned. Yet somehow they always found themselves here too, standing side by side despite everything, with their family creating chaos somewhere inside the haveli and the streets of Lyari stretched out beneath them.

His hand found hers almost absentmindedly, and when her fingers closed around his, Uzair found himself smiling faintly. Perhaps that was what mattered in the end. Not that they never argued, and not even that they always understood each other immediately, but that somehow, no matter how many times life brought them back to old fears and old mistakes, it always seemed to bring them back to each other as well.

Chapter 8- Ghatiya Birthday and Welcome Home

3-4 Weeks after the half revenge and 1 week after the PTM @ 2 pm 

Bada Bazar, Lyari, Pakistan

Today was a rare day. Today the Sher-E-Baloch roamed the Bada Bazar market with his 10 year old son Faizal. The boy had just managed to blow his father way. He passed 4th standard with 95 percent thanks to Rehanna’s help in tutoring him. He was now promoted to 5th standard. But Rehman did not know that the boy had passed when he went to his son's PTM. He expected the usual.

—--------------------------

When Rehman had gone to his sons PTM he had expected the usual. He expected the teachers to complain in the most civil and flatterting manner posible. Trying their level best not to piss off the bastard king of Lyari who always traveled with an armed convoy. 

The usual would be,“Rehman Sahab apka beta Faizal…..bohot nayab kism ke shaksiyat hain…. Hehehe kaafi creative” would mumble the GK and SST teachers who wanted to actually tell him that his son was a difficult bastard who made every day a new hell in class. From thumb tacks on the teachers seat to superglue on the duster. 

The english teacher with the flashy sharara that was slightly too low cut and thick black glasses who clearly had a thing for Rehman would polietly say “Rehman sahab….aapka beta Faizal shayad science side ke liye banna hua hai” as she twirled her hair and occasionally bit her lip at him. Her polite way of saying that Faizal was a unique type of gawar in english and probably dyslexic. But that was okay because atleast his dad was hot. 

Rehman would always make an excuse to run away from her the first chance he got… Before she could ask what he was doing later or made any offer to do something later. But if she had asked WHO he was doing later he would have answered that with barely any hesitation. He would puff his chest in pride and say that he would be DOING his Vakeel Sahiba and she should be damn greatful that she wasn't here right now and focus more on teaching his son english. Mentally Rehman would set a note to ask Rehanna to leave a lipstick kiss on his collar, her signature dusty rose or marroon berry shade, just where only the women would notice and then realize he wasn't interested in anyone else AT ALL. 

He had expected the same thing this time. Giving Faizal a jhantack rapta across his face in advance to the PTM knowing full well that he would hear nothing good about his son. “Iss bar paas to hojaega na?” Rehman would ask. “ Dekhiye abbu…… maine toh poori mehenat ki hai ab sab khuda ke kabil haaton me hai” Faizal would respond casually. And Rehman would sigh pinching his nose bridge knowing that this probably means he would have to bribe the schoolboard to make Faizal pass. In these moments he would remember his older son Naieem, he never gave Rehman so much academic related stress. He missed Naieem, who lived with his mother Ulfat in Lahore ever since the divorce.

—------------------------------

Rehman would always write letters and send gifts monthly or weekly to always let Naieem know that his father hadn't forgotten about him. That his father loved him. Rehman would try calling daily just so he could hear his sons voice. But Naieem never responded. Not a singe letter was replied too, not a single gift was thanked, not a single call returned. Naieem only talked to his father when forced by Ulfat. 

Ulfat would tell him “Beta apne abbu se Eid pe to baat karle?” she would say patting Naieem’s hand gently “Mujhe pata hai tu abhi bhi gussa hai…lekin unka bhi koi zurm nahi hai…Dosh haalaton ko do…apne abbu ko nahi. Pehele mujhe bhi gussa ata tha. Ki unhone Faizal ko mujhse door kiya….Lekin dosh mera bhi hai ki maine itne saalon se Faizal se baat bhi nahi ki, ek khat bhi nahi likha, ek tofa bhi nahi diya, ab itni der ho gaiy hai ki ab Faizal ke liye uski ammi nahi rahi” Ulfat would end tearily cursing herself for her mistake. 

Naieem would sigh before he rang his father for very tight and cordial Eid greetings. Only to please his mother. But Rehman cherished it. You could hear the fatherly pride in his voice when he spoke to Naieem. It made Naieem's stomach churn with a strange nausea of not deserving that pride. 

Ulfat regretted it. She regretted she never spoke to Faizal, she regretted she never wrote a letter, she regretted never sending a gift. 5 long years. Five long years Ulfat was silent for her younger son. She doesn't even have a decent explanation as to why she pretended like her younger son didnt exist. Thats what kills her the most. The fact that she dosent even know why she did it. Maybe its because she was mad at Rehman. Maybe its because when the separation was happening Faizal ran to his father instead of her. Maybe its because Faizal looked like the spitting image of her ex husband. 

But these maybies weren't reason enough to estrange yourself from your 5 year old son. And now it was too late. She left Faizal when he was 5 and now the boy was 10. How does she make up for 5 years of absence? So she doesn't, because she doesn't know how and maybe she never will. And she doesn't blame Faizal for hating her. She doesn't blame the boy one bit. Because she deserves it.

—-------------------------------------------

Back in the present the father son duo walked in together, one with an annoyed expression and the other with a bright red cheek and a watery eyes that he would hide as soon as he saw any girl from his class. Immediatly taking a deep sniff and hiding his tears. 

Faizal would run a hand through his hair and turn on that signature Baloch family charm. As the girls of 4A walked by him (according to Faizal, 4A was the section with the prettiest girls) he would give them a grin and a cocky salam that would make them blush and giggle amongst themselves. 

Rehman would cross his arms and raise an eyeberow at his son’s very genetic antics. On one hand he is proud that his son was a charmer like him but on the other hand this reaction explains why Faizal’s reportcard was a disappointment each time. Rehman would then promptly deliver a smack to the back of his neck pushing Faizal forward towards the school while the boy whined in embarrassment. “Abbu please ladkion ke samne nahi” he would plead as he walked. “Chup chaap agge chal” Rehman would grumble in his attempt to hide his smile.   

As they walked towards the classrooms Rehman would light a cigarette and walk in with his signature saunter. He would take a drag and give his classic one handed no look salam to any greetings sent his way. Always in his crisp Balochi Pathani suits with a tailored jacket that billowed in the breeze. His shoes also classic, black leather punjabi mojari juttis. He looked as dangerous as the devil and twice as handsome. One of his unruly hair strands falling over his face. The teachers would pause in the hallway, their knees suddenly loosing all structural integrity. The mothers of other children would shoot him coy looks that boredered on them practically mentally undressing him in public. Rehman would pretend not to notice. The husbands of those mothers would glare at their wives and shove them with their elbows. 

The older girls, the ones in 11th and 12th. Would grab each other for support as their faces turned bright red when they saw him aproach down the hall. They would greet him meekly “S-salam Rehman sahab”

Now the thing about Rehman is that he was always kind to kids. Something that Rehanna always smiled at when she saw it and Rehman had ingrained this into his being. So he would transfer his cigarette to his other hand being considerate of the smoke and he would bow his head with a propper salam “Assalamwailikum bachhiyon…mann lagake padhna” he would smile at them, his voice husky from the ciggarete. 

As he walked by they got a whiff of his cologne oudh, sandalwood, gunpowder. As soon as he turned the corner one girl would lean against the wall slowly sliding down it, another would faint, two more would go weak in the knees, while one just froze and whispred “Yah allah..” into the void as an agressive blush would form on their faces. All of them immediately going into vivid daydreams of him. How could they tell him that their ‘mann’ had imagined them doing some of the most romantic things with a man 20-25 years older than them. Their mann was no longer in padhahi and had promptly short circuited. 

—-----------------------------------------------

So this time when Rehman walked into Faizal’s classroom he had expected the same. The same carefully wrapped complaints. The same dismal looking reportcard. He most definitely hadn't planned to be surprised. 

Faizal’s teachers themselves stood in shock when Rehman had walked in. They all took turns inspecting the sheet of paper, holding it up to the sunny window as if convinced it was fake. Convinced it was forgery. But they all had their mouths hung open when they realized that it was infact real. Faizal Baloch had topped 4th grade with 95 percent. Faizal Baloch himself couldn't believe it. 

The boys face went through so many emotions in one go. Confusion. Disbelief. Joy. and then finally smugness. Faizal looked at his father with the smuggest look in the universe a look that said “Dekha abbu mai itna bhi nikaama nahi hun” And Rehman shot back a look that said “Haan voh to hai….lekin ye sirf chauthi ka report card hai dasvi me karke dikha phir manu mai” Faizal made a tsk noise with his teeth before he spoke with his eyes  “Abbu yaar….kabhi khush nahi rehte aap” Rehman responded with a single eyebrow raise that told Faizal to promptly shut the fuck up. The boy then shut his mouth hiding his grin that might get him slapped again. 

The teachers meanwhile still crowded around one side of the teachers desk. Staring at that sheet of paper like it was telling them that the true meaning of life was indeed the number 42. Looks of disbelief…..and surprisingly even disappointment. The HRT spoke first “Faizal..beta 95 percent…K-Kaise?” the woman spoke in disbelief as she set the piece of paper down and took off her glasses. Faizal shrugged “Aap sabko lagata hai ki mai duffer hun lekin ye sach nahi hai.. Mai bohot smart hun. Bas dhanke teachers ki der thi” he hums leaning back in his chair. The teachers broke out in a smile before the english teacher began “Aree wah Rehman sahab aapke bete ki pehchan badhiya hai! Hume uske badhiya marks ka karan bol raha hai!” 

Before Rehman could respond Faizal cut in again “Aree nahi madam galat fehmi nahi rakhiye….mai aap sab ko dhanke teachers nahi bol raha tha.” All of the teaches faces fell dramatically. Uzair who had been standing at the back of the classroom just observing now snorted into his fist trying not to break out in laughter at his nephew's response. The HRT now held a tight smile on her face, her words too honey sweet to be genuine “Toh phir aapka kya matlab hai beta” Now even Rehman was curious, he turned to Faizal and gestured for his son to explain. 

Faizal grinned widely and proudly before he responded “Yeh sab Rehanna Aunty ka kamal hai! Woh duniya ki best teacher hai!” The teachers froze. Rehman froze. The teachers began first, more specifically the english teacher whos voice now dripped with jealousy at the mention of another woman who was this close to Faizal. Meaning she was close to Rehman. “Hehe…..Faizal beta ye Rehanna aunty kaun hai?” the english teacher would say through gritted teeth. Faizal would beam “Arre madam! Rehanna aunty Abbu ki vakeel hai! Lekin woh itni achhi hai, itni pyari hai, aur itni smart hai ki woh mujhe sikhati bhi hain! Aap sab se 4th class ka syllabus khatam nahi ho raha aur woh mujhe abhi se 5th class ka sikha rahi hain!” 

Rehman would smile into his fist to hide it. Even he didn't know that Rehanna helped his son so much. He thought she occasionally helped him with maths but it turns out that she had been teaching him everything. The thought brought a beautiful warm feeling in his chest. He could practically see it. Rehanna smiling and laughing with Faizal as she playfully reprimands him while she teaches him. The bond almost like a mother and son. Faizal wasn't feeling the loss of a mother anymore. Whether the boy realized it or not. But Rehman realized it and he was ever grateful for it. He would be forever in debt to Rehanna for this. Rehman shook himself out of his day dream as he noticed the teachers all looking at him.

Rehman Dakait was smiling into his fist. And that freaked the shit out of all the teachers, because nobody had ever seen Rehman smiling. Ever. So Rehman cleared his throat and fixed his posture “Ji humari Vakeel Sahiba sach me kaafi kabil hain.” he said politely trying not to look too smug. The english teacher’s eye twitched violently as she heard Rehman refer to his lawyer as Vakeel Sahiba. SAHIBA. “Hehehe…..Vakeel sahiba?” she questions weakly. 

Now Rehman smiles properly leaning in a bit more. Further scaring the shit out of the teachers. “Ji haan. HUMARI vakeel sahiba. Aur angrezi ki madam aapse kuch kehna tha-” The english teacher leans in expectantly “Aap mere bete ki teacher ho, aur voh bhi itne saalon se. Aur ab aap iski 5th me bhi teacher ban’ne wale ho… To phir ab kya formality Rehman Sahab ki… Aap mujhe Rehman bhai bulaiye” Rehman smiles. The english teacher looks like she was just told her entire family died in a nuclear bomb incident. 

Rehman gets up takes the marksheet from the desk and motions for Faizal and Uzair to follow him out of the classroom. Leaving all the teachers shell shocked. The HRT madam slapped a hand on her mouth so a laugh wouldn't escape her as she comforted the english teacher who looked like she was on the verge of tears. The of the teachers tsked sympathetically at the woman on the verge of tears.

—--------------------------

Outside of the school Faizal grinned at his dad “Abbu…” he began cheekily. Rehman sighed knowing now that a demand was comming his way “Bol beta”. Faizal smiled “Andar jaane se pehele aapne mujhpe shak kiya….mujhe mara…aur meri izzat halal kardi voh sundar ladkiyon ke samne…Lekin mai 95 percent se pass hua hun.” He hinted for Rehman to finish the sentence. 

Rehman put his hands on his hips “Toh kya sadak pe nachun main? Ki mera beta chauthi class se paachvi class me aagaya?” Uzair snorted in laughter again, collapsing against a wall. It was clear the way he was laughing, Uzair was imagining it. He was imagining Rehman dancing on the street in joy. *SATACK*

A slap landed on Uzair’s face “ARRE BHAI-” the 6’3 man stumbled. “Zyada hass mat chutiye” grumbled Rehman before he looked at his son “seedhe seedhe bol kya chahiye tujhe Faizal” The boy grinned at his dad before he wrapped his arms around his father. Rehman stumbled back now very suspicious of his sons intentions. 

“ABBU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MUJHE EK PROFFESIONAL CRICKET KIT DILWADO!!! EK ENGLISH WILLOW KA BAT KE SATH……AUR EK NAYI GEAR WALI CYCLE BHI DILADO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE” The 10 year old begged as he hugged his father. Rehman first peeled Faizal off of him and laughed dangerously. Uzair mouthed at Faizal from behind his brother’s back ‘Tu to gaya beta’ with a laugh before he walked to the car. 

“....abbu please” asked Faizal now meekly. Giving Rehman big puppy eyes. “Chauthi paas karne ke liye tujhe ek english willow cricket set chahiye aur ek gear wali cycle?” he begins as he lights a cigarette “Jab tu dasvi paas karega to phir haveli hi maang lega?” he ends un amusedly. Faizal's face falls in disappointment, he now believes that his father won't get him anything. 

Rehman exhales a puff and melts slightly at his son's disappointed face, he sighs as he begins “Chal sunday ko market chalenge….tujhe cricket set hi dilwaunga bas. Lena hai to lo warna kuch mat lo” he ends in classic desi dad fashion. Faizal gasps in happiness “THANK YOU ABBU!” he bounces and runs to the car to tell his Uzair chachu the great news. 

—----------------------------------------------

Sunday after the PTM @ 2 pm 

Bada Bazar, Lyari, Pakistan

Thats how Rehman Dakait ended up in the Bada Bazar of Lyari walking through the market streets with his armed convoy and his very excited son. Rehman had to grab Faizal by the hand so he wouldn't run off into random shops. 

They had a mission and that was it. Rehman will not be going anywhere else other than the sports shop. And the mission was sucsessful. They had secured the professional cricket kit that Faizal had wanted. Uzair carried the kit bag while Faizal refused to let go of the bat. It had practically become an extension of his arm as he swung it around happily. 

Rehman was zoned out staring at the carts and shops as he walked. His mind wasn't here. His mind wasnt listening to the excited blabbering of his son anymore. It was deep in thought. Deep in through of Rehanna. He could almost see her floating around the market with them. They would walk side by side in Rehman's daydream.

—-------------

He could imagine it clearly. One of Rehman's hands would hold Faizal to make sure he wouldn't run into a toy shop and the other hand would hold Rehanna’s hand in a weak attempt to make sure she didn't run into a book shop. But he would never hold tight enough to stop her. He would never stop her from buying something. Ever. 

His son would get a glare and she would get his wallet. Was it a bit wrong? Yes it was but he also knew that she would cave to Faizal and buy him what he wanted. So the chain of events would end with Rehman having an empty bank account and a happy lover and lawyer and a happy son. And that was okay with him. 

Rehman knew in his mind, that the moment she saw a book shop she would break into a sprint. Dragging Rehman and by extension Faizal with her into the book shop as she would ooh and ahh at the books. Faizal would whine at her for being a boring nerd, Rheman would go to glare at him. Before he would say something Rehanna would stick her tongue out to Faizal childishly and say “kabhi padhliya karo ya iss saal phir fail hona hai beta?” and then Faizal would whine to Rehman saying she is being mean and Rehman would bite back a grin. 

If not dragging him to a book shop she would probably drag him to a jewelry stall. Where she would sort through earrings and bangles. He can imagine clearly, that she would hold up 2 pairs of jhumki’s and ask him to choose what looks better on her. He would say with a smile  “Meri jaan duniya ka sabkuch aap pe achha lagta hai kyun ki apne usko apni khoobsorati se tarasha hai” and maybe she would blush, maybe she would tsk at him “Aap bhi na”. She would look so adorable, and in that moment Rehman knew that he would buy the entire stall for her while she would protest with a laugh. And for that laugh he would buy the whole market. God knows he has enough money. 

After that in Rehman’s day dream maybe they would go to Alaam Juice center where the old juice shop owner would immediately fawn over his proclaimed niece. She would order a mosambi ka juice as always and he would order a ganne ka juice. They would sit at a table. Not speaking. Just enjoying the moment. Their feet brushing under the table as they drink their juices. Her dusty rose painted lips pursing around the plastic straw as she sips. Her eyes meeting his over the edge of the glass. She would look so beautiful, her hair falling about her face, her eyes dancing with a cute giddyness. He would wink at her and she would fluster slightly, bitting the inside of her cheek as she would look away. Tucking her hair behind her ear as she bounced her leg slightly to distract herself from him.

She was an enigma in that way. She could flirt and allude to the most eyebrow-raising actions without even letting a fluster creep up her neck. But the moment it came to this sort of sweet and innocent flirting. She was a gonner, a flushed mess for him. Like a school girl and her first crush. And my god Rehman loved it more than life itself. He loved that only he was able to do that. Only he was able to turn the great lawyer extraordinaire Rehanna Randhawa into a giggling blushing girl in love instead the woman of titanium she always is. 

—---------------

“Abbu! Apko pata hai-” Rehman didn't register his son pulling at his arm. Still lost in a daydream of her. He could practically smell her perfume wafting around him. “ABBU!” yelled Faizal now stoping dead still in the market yanking at his fathers arm almost violently now. “Kaun bhencho-Kya…….Kya hua Faizal?” sighed Rehman shaking out of his lovely daydream.

Rehman looked left and right trying to figure out where on earth they were after he had zoned out of reality. He found himself standing outside of a Gold and Silver jeweler’s shop. He found Faizal tugging at his arm and pointing to something in the shop. But Rehman couldn't register it Faizal was pointing to a pair of payals in the window. 

“Abbu apko yaad hai jab sirf mai aur Rehanna aunty ek din akele market aye the?” Faizal starts. Rehman nods, remembering when about 2 weeks ago Rehanna had asked him if she could take Faizal for a day out. And of course he had said yes, he said yes enthusiastically. Faizal continues “Haan toh humne thodi der ghumne ke baad ye dukan dekhi aur Rehanna aunty ne bola chalo andar chalte hain aise hi. Aap ab mere sath andar chaliye apko kuch dikhana hai!” 

Rehman looked at Uzair, taking Faizal’s new bat from his hands and giving it to Uzair. “Ek kaam kar, tu ghar ja aur phir baadme dock ke kaam se ja woh bandookon ki shipment sahi se dekh. Mai baadme Faizal ko leke ata hun, tu Donga ko gadi leke bhejde” Rehman instructs and Uzair nods “Ji bhai” before he takes Faizal's new kit and heads to the car so he can go home. 

When Rehman enters the jewelry shop all the employees at the counter go still knowing exactly who this was. Rehman Dakait. They all swallowed hard at the visual of seeing such a dangerous man in their shop. The owner sitting by the cash register began sweating bullets. He thought he was a gonner. He thought he was gonna have to give away his jewels for free to survive. “Salam Rehman Sahab, aapki kya khidmat karsakta hun?” the owner asks nervously. Rehman nods in recognition of the greeting. He then nudges Faizal to go on. 

“Salam uncle! Aapko yaad hai ki mai aur ek sundar si mohtarma do hafte pehele aye the? Aur unka dil 2-3 cheezon pe agaya tha lekin unhone khareeda nahi?” Begins Faizal now looking at the shop owner. The owner’s face dawns in realization “Achha haaan! Aree salam beta aap kaise ho?....aur woh sundar si mohtarma kaisi hai?” Rehman’s mouth twiches at that. It twitches into a frown at this man siting in front of him remembering his pretty lawyer. HIS pretty lawyer. Faizal continues “Hum sab theek hain… aap woh saaman nikal sakte hain? Woh payalen jo unko pasand ayi thi?” 

Wait a second…. Why was she looking at payal? Rehman wonders. But before he can think too much, the shop’s employees get to work immediately. Pulling out 4-5 heavy boxes and laying it on the counter top. Flicking them open one by one as they motion for Rehman and Faizal to take a seat. When they do, one employe goes to Rehman asking him if he would like some tea or coffee, Rehman waves them off as he watches the spectacle before him. “Faizal ye sab kya hai?” 

Faizal leans toward his dad “Abbu aap dekho to sahi! Mai batata hun abhi.” So Rehman does as he is asked. He looks at all the beautiful and ornate silver, platinum gold, and white gold payals laid before him. Some engraved with traditional peacock designs some more dainty, some encrusted with emeralds and rubies. Some Pakistani style, some Kashmiri style, and some Punjabi style. He had to admire her taste. Beautiful and varied just like her. 

After Rehman looks at them entirely he looks at Faizal again expectantly. Faizal sighs as if frustrated with his father “Aapko ye sab dekh ke kuch samajh me aa raha hai?” Rehman shakes his head no. “Aapko yaad hai ki kuch mahine pehle Aunty apke birthday pe naachi thi?” Rehman nods. As if he could ever forget that amazing night, he almost felt himself slip way to the emory of her twirling at his party. (chapter 6b)

Then Faizal's voice brought him back to reality “Toh phir unhone mujhe baadme bataya ki unko dance ka shaunk hai. Kathak ka shauk hai…Kathak me khungru wali payal pehente hain….aur agar aapko yaad ho… Unka birthday kuch dino me ane wala hai….shayad unko ek gift dena chaihiye apko?” Faizal speaks extremely slowly. As if trying to help his father make the neuron connections.

Finally the old windows operating system in Rehman’s mind reboots and the neurons connect. Its visible when it does because he sits up and starts looking at the payal laid out in front of him with much more focus. He can’t believe that her birthday slipped out of his mind. Her birthday as in 15 days and it slipped out of his mind.

“Faizal..” Rehman murmurs stroking his chin now deep in thought “agar vakeel sahiba ko uss din itni hi pasand ayi ye payal to phir unhone khareedi kyun nahi?” His mind had finally returned to him and he was now thinking critically. He was asking the right questions, because Rehanna had a certain habit. 

The habit of buying whatever she likes because she has to money to do so. Because Rehman paid her a lot of money for a city like Lyari. 4 lakhs a month. 48 lakhs a year. Not including the bonuses she took and deserved because of how much profit she was helping him make. 50 lakhs a year total. And most of it she took under the table to not get taxed.  

Her rent and utilites were paid by a scheme in the Lawyers Commission of Pakistan (or so he was told but the reality was that R&AW paid her rent and utilities). Her food cost wasn't too high because she practically had most of her meals at the haveli anyways. She didn't buy too many clothes. She only splurged occasionally. So by all means she should have had the means to buy the payals for herself. So why didn't she?

Faizal answered his question promptly by gesturing for the owner of the shop for a design book. He flipped open to a certain page and slid the book to his father. The page had the most beautiful platinum gold (white gold) payals. The design was so unique Rehman couldn't place where it was from. He read the title and it answered his question. It was an indian design, inspired from white lotus fields near south indian temples. And even the name of the design made sense for her “Hindustani kamal e jannat” or “The Indian lotus from the heavens”. That is who she was, she was a beautiful Indian lotus descended from the heavens into his life.

The payal had many small marquis cut diamonds clustered into the shape of a lotus flower. Each surrounded by emeralds the the size of raisins for leaves. It had dainty yet numerous ghungru’s made of platinum gold, that looked like they would make a heavenly sound with each step. The design is both indulgent yet elegant and oh so royal. Something most people would fail to pull off. But on her? The designer would have retired right then and there knowing that his life's work was complete by her wearing this design.

He could imagine it on her. And it fit so well that he forgot what her ankles would look like without them. Faizal’s finger then pointed to the price at the bottom of the page which also answered his query as to why she did not buy it. 10 lakhs. Rehman’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. She was right when she spoke in her new office that day.. She definitely didn't like cheap things. “Rehman sahab ye itna nayab peice hai ki pure Pakistan me sirf humari dukan pe milega. Iske jo heere aur zamrd (emerald) ke patthar hai woh kaafi mushkil se hum Afghanistan se nikalte hain. Aur iske karigar India ke hain” explained the owner.

This… this needed to be on her feet immediately or it would be a crime against humanity thought Rehman. “Aapko pata hai woh mujhe bata rahi thi… unko zamrd (emerald) bohot zyada pasand hai” Faizal mused out loud. Faizal didn't need to convince Rehman. In fact someone needed to stop him now. He felt a phantom itch to reach for his checkbook. 

Rehman leaned back in his chair again. “Isko final kariye. Mai aam taur pe bolta ki 10 lakh bohot zyada hai.. Lekin jiskeliye mai khareed raha hun….. unkeliye 10 crore bhi bohot kam hai” The shop keeper grinned wide. “Cash ya check Rehman Sahab?” Within seconds Rehman had written out the check and signed it with his usual flair as he handed it to the owner of the shop. “Aapka order 10 din me mai khud aapki haveli pauchadunga” the owner salamed both Rehman and Faizal as they walked out. Rehman’s pocket 10 lakhs lighter but his heart a hundred times more full. 

They walked out of the shop and crossed the street to where Donga was waiting with a car to take them home. Rehman grabbed his son's hand to help him cross the street safely. An unconscious fatherly instinct. Which was made more apparent by the fact that he kept Faizal away from incoming traffic, opting to be directly in front of the flow of traffic, sheltering his son with his own body as they crossed. Faizal suddenly speaks “Itna time lag gaya aapko Rehanna aunty ka birthday yaad karne me?” refering to how it took Rehman practically three business days to realize why he was looking at payals and why Faizal was making him look at payals. 

Rehman sighs as they reach the opposite end of the street. Donga rushes out of the car to open the doors for both of them. While they wait Rehman lights a cigarette. Holding it in the hand furthest from Faizal and along with the direction of the wind so the smoke wouldn't go to Faizal. “ Haan beta mai buddha hone laga hun” he sighs exhaling a plume of smoke looking wistfully at the bustling market. Why would he admit that he was getting old? Because he didn't want to admit to Faizal that he was too busy daydreaming about her. Rehman knew his child was incapable of keeping his mouth shut. He would yap the news to the entire gang and to Rehanna. 

The issue with this was that obviously he didn't want the gang to know because the truth was that this relationship between him and Rehanna was till new. And it still had no name. It wasn't just entirely physical but it wasnt fully emotional yet either. Did he love Rehanna with every single atom, proton, and electron in his body? Yes. But did he ever explicitly tell Rehanna that the loves her?.....no. 

It has been openly implied since day one yes but never verbalized. And now that he really thinks about it. She hadn't said those three magical words either…… But here Rehman stood with the bill of 10 lakh rupee diamond, emerald, and platinum gold payals in his hand. If this doesn’t scream I love you then Rehman doesn’t know what does, because the truth is he doesn't know how to say those words. 

Faizal hums, completely unrelated to his fathers dilemma. “Chalo kisine to bola…accha hua ki apne khud bola ki aap buddhe ho” Rehman Dakait whips his head to his son. His ears can't believe it. Was his son openly calling him old? He better not be because there was a brand new english willow bat just begging to be broken in waiting at home. “kya bola tumne Faizal?” he asks almost too calmly

Faizal’s eyes go wide. The realization dawns on the boy who winces and bites his tongue. By then thankfully his Donga chachu opens the door to the rear seat and Faizal dives for cover while yelling apologies behind him to his father. “SORRY ABBU MERA WOH MATLAB NAHI THA!”

Rehman climbs into the front passenger seat and glares at Faizal through the rear view mirror “Beta tu ghar chal…..phir tere saare matlab nikalta hun mai” The boy swallows hard under his fathers glare. Donga bites back a grin as he starts the car.

—-------

Authors note: Please start listening to Piya ke Bazar by SEVASHI for this part. And this segment is the summary of the 3-4 weeks post half revenge/ true events mixed in with Rehman’s love sick fantasies/imaginary events. 

Mai nikla apna basta leke tanha pyaar mei 

Koi ghayal sadma aashiq jaise ho baraat mei 

Kahi atka bhatka sadko pe mai tumse milgaya 

Tere dil ke kaarobaar se mai khud hi lutt gaya  

The bill crackled softly between Rehman’s fingers as Donga pulled the car out into the chaos of Lyari traffic. The market outside the tinted windows blurred into streaks of color and movement, men yelling over fruit carts, scooters weaving through impossible gaps, women bargaining over fabric beneath faded awnings, but Rehman barely registered any of it. His head rested against the leather seat, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the streets as if his soul had been left standing back inside that jewelry shop. 

The check receipt sat in his hands like evidence of a crime. Ten lakhs. Ten fucking lakhs spent on a pair of payals without a second thought. Rehman rubbed his thumb slowly over the inked numbers again and again, almost disbelieving they were real. Not because the money hurt him. Money had stopped meaning anything to him years ago. No, what disturbed him was something far worse. 

The fact that if somebody told him those payals cost twenty lakhs instead, he still would have signed the check. If they had said fifty. A crore. He would have done it smiling. 

Rehanna had looted him in the most terrifying way possible. Not at gunpoint. Not through manipulation. Not through fear. She had simply smiled at him one too many times and now the Sher-E-Baloch sat in his own car feeling like some wounded lovesick idiot drifting through the wreckage of himself. 

Somewhere along the way between her laughter and her kajal smudged eyes, Rehman Baloch Dakait had become a man willingly robbed blind by the business of one woman’s coy smile. 

Jo kaajal tum lagati ho 

Payal jo chankati ho 

Subhah mere kamre mei saari mei jo aati ho

Jaan, tumko maine kaise paa liya 

Mai deewana 

The thought of those payals on her feet poisoned his mind beautifully. Suddenly he was no longer in the car. No longer in Lyari. His imagination dragged him somewhere far softer. Somewhere dangerously domestic. 

IMAGINARY EVENT- 

Morning sunlight spilled golden through long curtains as he lay half awake in bed, one arm tucked beneath his head while waiting for his chai. The haveli was unusually quiet. Peaceful. He had just begun reaching toward the bedside bell to call one of the maids as he usually would. Because he was a bachelor. No wife to bring him his tea…. that's when his ears caught it. Chan…chan…chan. 

Soft silver bells approaching down the hallway. His entire body stilled. The sound grew closer and closer until Rehanna appeared in the doorway carrying a steaming cup of chai carefully between her hands. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, damp strands sticking to her neck from a recent shower while the pale blue cotton saree clung slightly to her still-wet skin. The thin fabric looked cool and soft against her body, simple in a way that made her even more beautiful. Her waist flashed briefly when she adjusted the loose pallu over her shoulder, the edge of her tattoo peeking out teasingly against her skin. 

Kajal lined her eyes dark and deep, making them look impossibly large as they softened upon finding him awake. And there they were. The payals. His payals. Wrapped around her delicate ankles, chiming gently against the marble floor with every step toward him. Rehman stared shamelessly, mouth slightly parted, completely transfixed by the sight of her moving through his room like she had always belonged there. 

Like she was born to exist in his mornings. She smiled sleepily as she handed him the tea before leaning down to press a small absentminded kiss against his cheek. Then she turned to leave. Rehman’s senses snapped back violently. He set the tea aside so quickly some spilled over the saucer before he caught her wrist and spun her back into him. She gasped softly, one hand flying to his chest as he wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. The wet scent of shampoo, sandalwood soap, and chai surrounded him while the bells on her ankles trembled from the sudden movement. “Kahan jaa rahi hain aap?” he murmured against her lips before kissing her properly this time, slow and deep and full of every filthy little domestic fantasy that had begun haunting him day and night.

Tum aise jo sharmaati ho 

Dil se jo bulaati ho 

Chaand si badan mei 

Angdaayi jo lagati ho 

Seeney mei chupaake jo shaam ko sulaati ho 

Komal si aadao mei chalke balkhaati ho 

Wo mere khwab se parey 

Aur dil mei rakhe 

TRUE EVENT- 

Late afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through the tall windows of her office while Rehman sat sunk into the small lounge sofa near the corner smoking quietly with a newspaper spread open in his hands. The room smelled like fresh paper, cigarette smoke, old wood, and her perfume. Mostly her perfume. It was a beautiful suffocation.

She had been working for hours without pause, blue light glasses slipping slightly down her nose every few minutes while files and legal documents consumed her desk entirely. Her hair sat piled into a messy bun now barely surviving the day, strands escaping everywhere around her face in soft curls that made her look less like the terrifying lawyer of Lyari and more like an exhausted university girl trying to survive exam season.

Rehman barely read a single line of the newspaper. Every few seconds his eyes lifted above the page to look at her instead. The way her brows furrowed when concentrating. The way she chewed the inside of her cheek while reading difficult paperwork. The tiny sleepy sighs she made unknowingly. God she looked adorable. 

Eventually she stood up with a long yawn, stretching her arms high above her head while arching her back slightly. The sunlight caught her just right then, wrapping her in warm amber light so beautiful that Rehman forgot how to breathe for a moment. Behind her the giant empty bookshelves of her office still stood mostly barren. He remembered getting them installed himself knowing she would need space eventually. 

At the time the length of time the shelves had been empty unsettled him. They made the office look temporary. Untouched. Like she hadn’t fully accepted it as hers yet. And that was because of his bastard father Babu Dakait, Arshad Pappu, and Lulli Dakait and what they did to her. She didnt even had the time to appreciate her gift properly before they ruined her week. (7a and 7b reference)

But today she walked toward a cardboard box resting beside the desk and opened it with a pleased hum. He had pondered why she had shown up to the haveli with a box today. And now he would get his answer. She bent down reaching into it to gather something. Rehman lowered his paper slowly as realization dawned. Books. Armful after armful of books. Law books, novels, poetry collections, journals. She began organizing them meticulously across the shelves in whatever strange system only made sense to her. 

Then came the little decorations. Tiny trinkets. Framed pictures. A photo of Hamza and her mid argument while both laughed so hard the picture blurred. Another of Faizal covered in mud while she chased him around the garden beside Raja and Sultan. One that Rehman himself had taken without her noticing, faizal must have given it to her. A picture that Faizal drew of her, or the young boy’s best attempt anyways. His chest tightened painfully watching her place pieces of herself into the room. 

Watching her reclaim it. Reclaim the gift he gave her before monsters tried to poison it for her. She rearranged things three different times until satisfied, stepping back finally with both hands on her hips and triumph glowing across her face. “Dekhiye Rehman! Kaisa dikh raha hai?” she asked brightly. 

Rehman folded the newspaper slowly before standing and walking toward her. Without a word he slipped both arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. She shivered against him. The touch electric for both of them because of one reason. Ever since what had happened to her (7A and B reference) they hadn't been intimate. 

—-------------------------- (lil side track)----------------------

Some touches here, some kissing there, some cuddling here, some very close calls to sex there. Maybe some over the clothes action, maybe just some hands and mouths. But no propper sex. Why? Because Rehman wasn't gonna let it happen. He always stopped everything before things escalated. Letting her have pleasure and deriving his own pleasure from her happiness. When she whined about him stopping he would always say the same thing. Not yet, its too soon my love, nothing propper until you have coped enough. He was making a boundary for her health, a boundary she didnt even realize she needed. He would always hold her against him after she had had her pleasure, simply enjoying her company, playing with her hair, talking about everything and nothing. The smile never left her face. And he noticed it.  

—-------------------------- (back to it)--------------------

“Meri jaan…” he murmured softly beside her ear, “…is kamre mein ek bala ki khoobsurat farishta khadi hui hai…aur woh jo cheez chhu de…woh sab khoobsurat ho jaata hai.” Her entire face flushed pink instantly. He felt her giggle vibrate softly against his chest before she turned her head just enough to kiss him sweetly. And Rehman thought then that maybe heaven was not a place after death. Maybe it was simply this. Her laughter echoing inside his home.

Mujhe gandey ishaare 

Har raat mei hi karey 

Mujhe ishq pilade 

Ye sharab na chadhey 

Tera geela badan harr saans mei jaley 

TRUE EVENT- 

The evening breeze curled around them on the balcony outside his office while the city glowed below in distant orange lights. They stood shoulder to shoulder smoking quietly after she had agreed to stay for a while or a “sirf thodi der aur.” She had come to say goodbye for the day, but she agreed to stay just a bit longer for him.

Conversations with her never stayed normal for long. One minute they discussed politics and the next they debated whether ghosts existed or why chai tasted different during rainstorms. Rehman leaned lazily against the railing watching her talk with animated hands while smoke curled from between her lips. Then she frowned suddenly at her cigarette. “Yeh jal kyun nahi rahi theek se?” she muttered irritatedly before ashing it over the balcony. She reached into her pocket for another cigarette only to freeze upon finding the box empty. “Tch. Khatam ho gayi.” 

Rehman watched her annoyance for exactly two seconds before something reckless overtook him entirely. Without thinking he took a drag from his own cigarette, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her hard against him. Her surprised inhale vanished straight into his mouth as he kissed her deeply while exhaling smoke between their lips. 

She melted into him instantly with a soft startled sound, arching against his chest as his free hand slid around her waist. Rehman backed her toward the balcony wall until her spine touched the cool stone, trapping her there while the kiss deepened hungrily. His cigarette slipped forgotten from his fingers somewhere onto the floor below as both hands moved to her waist now, palms burning against the warmth beneath her white chiffon top. 

Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his black kurta while a low groan escaped her throat straight into his mouth, nearly destroying what little sanity he had left. She pulled him against her harder, her body flush against his. They kissed messy and breathless and greedy, mouths bruising together while the city disappeared around them completely. By the time they finally pulled apart both were panting softly, foreheads pressed together while her berry colored lipstick sat ruined across his mouth. Her lips stayed parted. Her breath shaky.

Rehman looked down at her flushed face with unbearable smugness. “Pakka jaana hai abhi?” he asked huskily. She bit her lip immediately at the question, eyes flickering away shyly before whispering a soft “Goodnight jaan” and escaping from under his arms. Yet even while walking away she looked back over her shoulder once. And there he stood exactly where she left him, cigarette abandoned, watching her with an amused look that promised he was nowhere near done with her.

Aur, mai bhi khela aag se kaafi 

Pyaar jata kasar na koi baaki 

Aur pehle se maafi agar ho gustakhi 

TRUE EVENT- 

At around eleven thirty one fatefull night Rehman had been fully prepared to sleep. He was already lying in bed speaking to her over the phone while half exhausted from the day. Had they spent the entire day together? Yes but he could never have enough of her. Then she sighed softly through the speaker, wistful and absentminded. “Kaash aap mere saath hote abhi…” And suddenly something inside him short circuited completely. Rehman sat upright before even realizing it. The call ended. He got dressed. Grabbed his motorcycle keys. The next thing he consciously registered was standing behind her apartment building staring up toward the second floor balcony like a lunatic. 

The front gates were locked tight and the aunties monitoring the building’s CCTV cameras would absolutely start World War Three if they saw him entering at midnight. So naturally there was only one logical option. Climb the fucking building. Rehman scaled the pipes upward silently while muttering curses beneath his breath, boots slipping twice before he finally hauled himself onto her kitchen balcony. 

Inside meanwhile Rehanna sat completely unaware on her couch wearing her pajamas with a green face mask smeared across her skin while peacefully reading a book. Rehman tapped rhythmically against the balcony glass. She jumped violently before walking toward the door cautiously. The moment she opened it and saw a dark figure standing there she screamed loud enough to wake half of Karachi. “SHHHH SHHHH meri jaan mai hoon!” Rehman hissed urgently while grabbing her hands. She clutched her chest breathing hard before staring at him in utter disbelief. 

Once inside, he immediately pointed toward her face in shock. “Yeh kya laga rakha hai?” Her eyes lit up mischievously. “Ek minute!” she chirped before running into the kitchen. Rehman sat down confused only for her to return holding more of the terrifying green paste and a fuzzy headband. 

She climbed directly into his lap making his entire brain shut off instantly. For one glorious second he thought his suffering had finally been rewarded. The thought he was about to get very lucky. A smug smile plastered on his face as his hands instantly went to her waist to hold her against him.

Then she pulled the headband onto him. “Jaan nahi…” he protested immediately as she approached with the paste. “Ye hara keechad mai nahi laga raha.” he continued protrsting making Rehanna tsk at him. “Main iske liye pipe chadhke nahi aaya tha.” He dodged her hands repeatedly until she finally caught his jaw and smeared the cold mask across his cheek triumphantly. “Shhhhh Rehman…ye aapko sundar bana dega.” 

Rehman sat there pouting with crossed arms while she hummed happily applying the face mask across his face like he was some misbehaving child. A murderous gangster, the one who struck fear in every heart in Karachi, maybe even Pakistan, now had a green pore cleansing clay mask on his face. He muttered under his breath that the badshah of Lyari can not be wearing this green keechad. Then she tilted her head innocently adjusting herself in his lap. Her hips rolling slightly against him as she adjusted her position better. He shut his eyes momentarily releasing a long and low breath as if trying to control himself. She could feel him steadily hardening beneath her but she ignored it on purpose.

She hummed absentmindedly as she slowly applied the facemask to his face “Waise…aapko kya laga tha kya hoga jab aap aoge?...... Aap kya karne aaye ho pipe chadhke?” Rehanna knew exactly what he came for and was torturing him on purpose. Rehman sighed dramatically. “Jo main karne ke khwab se aaya tha usmein ye hara keechad nahi tha.” he shifted uncomfortably. His salwar now too tight for comfort as she sat in his lap. She burst into laughter before gasping theatrically. “Kyun? Aise mai sundar nahi lagti?” she stared at him looking like a very pretty cousin of shrek with the green mask on her face. 

Rehman looked at her with full seriousness. “Nahi. Bilkul bhi nahi.” Silence. Then betrayal flashed across her face instantly. “KYA?” She smacked his chest hard before climbing off his lap furiously and stomping away. “Jaan?-” asked a shocked Rehman who had whiplash from her mood change and his own lust hazed mind. 

The rest of the night was spent with Rehman following her around the apartment apologizing endlessly while she ignored him with wounded dignity. And honestly? He loved every second of it.

Piya ke bazaar mei 

Mai bikk gaya mai bikk gaya mai bikk gaya 

Jo kaajal tum lagati ho 

Payal jo chankati ho 

Subhah mere kamre mei saari mei jo aati ho 

IMAGINARY EVENT-

Donga driving straight into a pothole shook him out of his daydreams. “Andha hai kya?” he grumbled. “Sorry bhai” apologized Donga. Faizal had fallen asleep in the back seat. Rehman lay his head against the seat again. Another image overtook his mind then. 

That same morning vision of her in the damp blue saree except now absolute chaos erupted around the haveli. Faizal sprinted through the hallway screaming while dodging her attempts to make him drink a glass of milk before school. “FAIZAL BAS EK GLASS!” she yelled while chasing him barefoot across the marble floors, silver payals chiming wildly with every hurried step. 

Her towel had long since loosened from her hair while she laughed breathlessly trying to catch the little menace weaving between furniture. Rehman sat watching from the dining table with his chai completely forgotten, utterly ruined by the sight in front of him. She looked like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there. Like she was born to run through his home scolding his son while sunlight caught against silver bells around her ankles. 

Then Uzair entered laughing loudly at the scene. “Ruko bhabhi! Main madat karta hoon!” he said as he cornered Faizal and grabbed him for Rehanna. And that word hit Rehman like a bullet directly through the chest. Bhabhi. Meaning…… brothers wife. 

His mind accepted it so naturally that it terrified him. He hadn’t even asked her what they were. Hadn’t confessed love properly. Hadn’t defined anything between them. Yet somewhere deep inside himself Rehman had already married her entirely. 

And while this wasnt his reality he would live it fully in his daydream.

Aise jo sharmaati ho 

Dil se jo bulaati ho 

Chaand si badan mei 

Angdaayi jo lagati ho

And maybe that was why every little thing about her haunted him now. Her eyes most of all. Those impossible eyes lined in kajal that could slice a man apart one second and soften the next. He remembered the exact way they looked while she explained legal strategies passionately, dark pupils shining sharp and intelligent beneath courtroom fury. 

He remembered those same eyes turning glassy with laughter when Hamza annoyed her beyond reason. Her hair haunted him too. Especially when loose. Especially when she absentmindedly ran her fingers through it while reading. Once she had fallen asleep on his office couch while waiting for him to finish a meeting and he had spent nearly twenty minutes simply staring at strands of her hair spilling over the cushion like black silk.

 Then there was her smile. God. That fucking smile. Sometimes it appeared slowly and soft, sleepy and affectionate just for him. Other times it arrived sharp and victorious whenever she won an argument. He loved both equally. Her laugh destroyed him completely because she never laughed halfway. She laughed with her whole body, shoulders shaking, head thrown back, hands grabbing onto whoever stood closest. 

Even her insults had become precious to him. “Aap bilkul besharam hogaye hain.” “Aapko tameez naam ki cheez nahi.” “Khuda kasam Rehman aap impossible ho.” Every false irritated mutter from her mouth sounded like affection to him now. He loved the curve of her neck when she tilted her head while listening carefully. Loved the softness at her waist beneath his hands. Loved the stubborn little crease between her brows whenever concentrating. Loved the way she pretended to be fearless while still inching closer to him when she saw a chhipkali in the dining room. 

Rehman Dakait had survived bullets, gang wars, bloodshed, betrayal. But this woman? This woman smiled at him once and turned him into a man who noticed the exact shade of lipstick she wore depending on her mood. And that was perhaps the most dangerous thing that had ever happened to him. She was the most dangerous thing that happened to him. 

—----------

The morning of Rehanna Randhawa’s Birthday, August 23 @ 1am

Rehanna Randhawa’s apartment, Lyari, Pakistan

Authors note: Author ji is a narcissist so she is using her own birthday…if you have an issue….go cry about it.

The begining of Rehanna Randhawa’s birthday was supposed to be soft. Rehman had planned for softness tonight. A concept so foreign to him that even thinking about it earlier that evening had made Uzair stare at him like he was possessed. Because Rehman was smiling to himself as he smoked a cigarette. Because Rehman Dakait was smiling like a madman.

He was supposed to have called her at exactly midnight just to hear the sleepy smile in her voice when she answered. He was supposed to show up outside her apartment with flowers stuffed awkwardly into one arm and gifts hidden badly behind his back because subtlety was never his strength. He was supposed to spend the first moments of her turning twenty six showering her with affection until she got flustered and rolled her eyes at him. 

That was what tonight was supposed to be. 

Instead Rehman stood in his office with murder sitting behind his eyes. The room felt suffocating. Thick with cigarette smoke, rage, and the kind of silence that comes before bloodshed. Rehman leaned both palms against his desk, head slightly bowed while fury rolled off him in violent waves. Uzair chain smoked near the window, pacing so aggressively it looked like he wanted to claw through the walls. Hamza stood stiff near the bookshelf like a soldier awaiting orders, jaw clenched so hard the muscle ticked visibly beneath his skin. Donga sat unusually silent on the sofa, elbows on his knees while Siyahi flexed and unflexed his fists repeatedly. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared. Not when Rehman looked like this. Not when everybody in the room knew exactly what kind of monster he became when it involved her. The raid still fresh in everyones mind even though it was weeks ago. They saw how violent he became. 

The informant stood trembling in the middle of the office, sweat soaking through his kurta despite the cool night air. Half an hour ago the man had burst through the haveli gates practically collapsing onto the marble floors while begging the guards to let him see Rehman immediately. 

At first Rehman had been annoyed beyond belief at the interruption. He had been downstairs in the living room preparing to leave for Rehanna’s apartment, flowers already waiting in the car outside. He sat in his armchair then, one ankle resting over his knee while irritation shadowed his features. “Bol,” he had grunted impatiently. The man nearly choked on his own breath. “R-Rehman bhai… Rehman bhai… khatra hai!” 

Uzair misunderstood instantly. One second the informant stood shaking. The next Uzair had him lifted off the ground by his collar. “Kya bola be? Bhai ko dhamkaayega? Majal kaise hui teri???” roared uzair. The poor man nearly started crying right there. “UZAIR.” Rehman’s voice had cut through the room like a blade. Uzair dropped him immediately. The informant stumbled back gasping before blurting out the words that turned the entire haveli ice cold. 

“Rehman bhai… Randhawa madam… aapki vakeel ko khatra hai!” Everything changed after that. Rehman felt something inside him snap so violently he almost heard it. His scowl darkened into something genuinely terrifying while Hamza immediately straightened beside him, all traces of calm vanishing. The boys around the room shifted dangerously. “Seedha bol saale,” Rehman growled lowly, every syllable vibrating with restrained violence. 

The man swallowed hard enough for everybody to hear it. “R-Rehman bhai… babu dakait… Arshad Pappu… aur Luli Dakait ka ek plan hai aaj raat…” The names alone detonated something ugly in the room. Uzair cursed viciously under his breath. Hamza’s hand immediately moved toward the gun tucked into his waistband. Donga sat up straighter. Siyahi cracked his knuckles hard enough to echo. Rehman himself went frighteningly still. With only a flick of his fingers he signaled the man to continue because if he opened his own mouth right now he genuinely might kill somebody.

 “B-bhai… unka plan hai ki aaj raat woh unke ghar jaye, Randhawa madam ke ghar jaye, aur unko uthale wahan se.” The room erupted instantly. Everybody stood at once. Everybody except Rehman. He remained seated perfectly still while rage consumed him so completely it almost looked calm. But beneath that stillness was something volcanic. Something lethal. 

How dare they. How fucking dare they. How dare his bastard father and those animals even think about touching her again. Then reality struck him with brutal clarity. They knew where she lived. She was compromised. Yes she had a gun. Yes she knew how to fight. Yes she would absolutely stab somebody if cornered. But she was still vulnerable. And worst of all Rehman did not know if this warning came early enough. 

He shot to his feet so suddenly the informant flinched backward. “Gaadi nikalo.” Everything after that happened at terrifying speed. As the men rushed outside, Rehman stopped only long enough to call one of the maids. “Vakeel sahiba ke liye unke office ke bagal ka mehman kamra sahi kijiye.” The maid blinked in surprise before hurrying away immediately. 

Across from Rehman’s own office, library, and bedroom lay another mirrored set of rooms. Empty until now. Not anymore. Rehman had already made the decision before anybody else caught up to it. She was not staying alone another night. 

--------------------------------------

Within minutes the haveli gates burst open as an armed convoy thundered into the sleeping streets of Lyari. Nearly thirty armed men filled the vehicles while Rehman himself drove the lead car with both hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to whiten his knuckles. The shawl around his shoulders fluttered violently through the open window as the convoy tore through the roads toward the Hindu colony. Nobody spoke during the drive. Nobody needed to. The moment they arrived the quiet street outside her apartment building flooded with headlights and armed men. Doors slammed open one after another. 

Rehman was already moving before the car fully stopped. “UZAIR YAHAN REH AUR PEHERE DARI KAR!” Uzair nodded immediately while barking orders to the others outside. Rehman turned mid stride toward Hamza. “HAMZA MERE SATH CHAL.” The two of them burst through the iron gate and sprinted up the stairs. Their footsteps echoed violently through the sleeping building while Rehman’s pulse thundered in his ears. Every horrible possibility played through his mind at once. Every nightmare. Every image of reaching too late. By the time they reached her apartment door Rehman’s chest felt ready to explode. 

He gestured sharply toward the lock. Hamza understood immediately. One clean elbow strike snapped the doorknob loose with minimal noise and the door creaked inward slowly. The apartment was dark. Silent. Messy in that familiar lived in way that belonged entirely to her. Books stacked unevenly on the coffee table. A shawl tossed carelessly over the sofa. An empty coffee mug abandoned near the kitchen sink. Nothing yet assured him she was safe. 

Hamza drew his gun while both men cleared the apartment room by room. Kitchen. Bathroom. Study nook. Nothing. Then they reached her bedroom. The tension in the air became unbearable. Rehman pushed open the door slowly and his eyes flew immediately toward the bed. And for the first time all night he breathed. So did Hamza. 

There she was. Sprawled diagonally across the mattress like she had personally declared war against proper sleeping positions. One leg kicked free from the blankets for temperature control while the rest of her body remained wrapped tightly like a burrito beneath the comforter. Her mouth hung slightly open as soft snores escaped her lips while her hair exploded wildly across the pillow in every direction imaginable. One arm hugged a pillow possessively against her chest like it was an actual person. Safe. She was safe. 

Rehman stood frozen in the doorway simply staring at her while relief crashed through him so powerfully it nearly weakened his knees. His breathing slowly returned to normal as the violent storm inside him eased just slightly. God she looked adorable. A tiny unwilling smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as jealousy stabbed him over the damn pillow she clutched so lovingly. He wished he was the pillow. 

Hamza meanwhile crept quietly toward the bed with surprising confidence. Rehman narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Hamza leaned closer toward her sleeping form and whispered gently, “Pssst… didi… DIDI… coffee piyoge?” Rehman blinked in confusion. Hamza held up a finger confidently. “Rukiye zara, ye definitely kaam karega.” Hamza whispered to Rehman. He knew his sister well. Hamza knew that Rehanna was a fiend for anything coffee. 

Rehanna stirred slightly without even opening her eyes. She frowned half asleep and shook her head weakly. “Nooo…” Then immediately collapsed face first back into the pillow, snoring softly again. Hamza looked absurdly pleased with himself that he had gotten her very slightly awake. Rehman stared at him for a long moment before pointing toward the door. “Nikal.” he said flatly. Hamza pouted visibly. “Bhai par—” “Nikal.” said Rehman less flatly now. Still pouting, Hamza shuffled toward the door before slipping outside and quietly shutting it behind him. 

The room finally fell silent again. Rehman approached the bed slowly this time. Carefully. Like she was something precious. Because she was. He climbed onto the mattress beside her, supporting himself on his knees before settling carefully near her sleeping form. For a few moments he simply watched her. 

His fingers moved gently into her messy hair, stroking through the tangled strands while he allowed himself this small moment of peace after the terror of the last hour. The second his hand touched her, her body shifted instinctively toward him. Rehman felt warmth explode through his chest. Even asleep she recognized him. Even asleep she moved closer instead of away. Like some unconscious part of her already knew he was safe. 

“Meri jaan…” he whispered softly. “Uth jao.” She whined immediately. “Noooo…” Turning away dramatically, she buried herself deeper into the blankets like a stubborn child refusing school. 

Rehman huffed a quiet laugh beneath his breath before leaning closer again. His hand ghosted softly along her waist beneath the comforter. “Ya qalbi… utho,” he murmured beside her ear, warm breath brushing against her neck while the faint scent of her lingering perfume mixed with sleep surrounded him. 

Her eyes flew open instantly. Before Rehman could even react her hand disappeared beneath the pillow and reemerged gripping a massive butcher knife. Then suddenly she was on top of him. The maneuver happened so fast it genuinely startled him. One second she was half asleep. The next she straddled his waist with the knife pressed directly against his throat. 

Moonlight spilled across her silk clad body from the bedroom window, illuminating the navy blue silk slip she slept in. The hem barely brushed mid thigh while delicate black lace trimmed the neckline and edges. Thin spaghetti straps hung dangerously loose after the sudden movement, exposing warm skin and the elegant line of her collarbone while her messy hair tumbled wildly around her face. Rehman’s eyes widened slightly. Ya allah. She looked breathtaking. Dangerous. Sleepy. Beautiful. Sadly now was not the time to stare.

 “JAAN! JAAN! Mai hoon!” he said quickly, hands instinctively raising. “Dekho mai hoon!” She squinted suspiciously at him for several seconds before recognition slowly replaced the violence in her expression. “Aap yahan kya kar rahe ho?” she asks in shock. “Pehle chaku hataiye,” Rehman muttered carefully. She glanced down as if only just remembering the knife existed before pulling it away with a sheepish little “Oh.” 

—-------------------

A few minutes later the bedside lamp glowed softly beside them while she sat cross legged on the mattress listening silently to everything he explained. Her slip riding up a bit in her new position. Rehman spoke calmly despite the rage still simmering beneath his skin while she processed the situation slowly, sleep fading fully from her eyes. The second he finished speaking she sat quietly for a few moments. 

Then suddenly climbed directly into his lap. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck while her chin rested against his shoulder, bodies pressed close together. Rehman immediately held her tighter. After a moment he glanced toward the knife still laying nearby. “Aap takiye ke neeche chaku kyun rakhti hain?” he asked quietly. Part of him feared he already knew the answer. Did she keep it because of that day? That day at the market where babu, ardhad, and lulli had harassed her? Was she afraid now? She pulled back slightly, fingers absentmindedly tracing along the blade’s edge. “Hmmm… aisa kuch nahi hai… mai toh hamesha rakhti hun.” Rehman nodded slowly though something painful still twisted inside his chest. 

Then suddenly her expression shifted. Fear crept in. Real fear. As she woke up more properly “Rehman…” she whispered unevenly. “Agar unko pata chal gaya hai ki mai kaha rehti hun… ab kya hoga??” The anxiety in her voice hit him harder than any bullet ever could. Instantly he pulled her back into his arms, one hand stroking gently through her hair while the silk of her slip slid softly against his kurta. “Shhh meri jaan…” he murmured firmly against her forehead. “Kuch nahi hoga. Main aapko kabhi kuch hone nahi dunga.” 

He tilted her face upward gently. “Abhi aap hamare saath chaliye…” A kiss pressed softly against her forehead. “Haveli chaliye…” Then another against her lips. “Ghar chaliye.” Something softened in her eyes at that word. Ghar. She nodded quietly. 

As she stood from the bed adjusting the short slip instinctively, Rehman immediately removed the shawl from his shoulders and stepped toward her. Without a word he draped it carefully around her body so she felt covered enough to leave the room comfortably. Then together they stepped out into the apartment. Every gangster immediately turned toward them. Hamza reached her first. “DIDI!” He wrapped her into a crushing bear hug so suddenly she nearly stumbled backward while everybody else visibly relaxed for the first time all night at the sight of her unharmed.

—---------------

They all stood there in the middle of her apartment in a strange suffocating silence that smelled like cigarette smoke, cold night air, and adrenaline. Nobody knew what to say anymore because the fear had already been spoken out loud and now it sat there between them all like a living thing.

The yellow light of her living room lamp washed over everyone in a tired haze. Hamza stood beside the sofa still glaring at the front door as if expecting Babu Dakait himself to walk through it. Donga leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, unusually quiet for once, his expression hard and unreadable. Uzair had finally stopped pacing but only because he had nearly finished an entire pack of cigarettes in under twenty minutes. Which earned him a chastising from Rehanna for his health. The ashtray on her coffee table looked like a battlefield graveyard. 

And Siyahi was absolutely fighting for his fucking life. The poor man disappeared into the kitchen just to drink water because he genuinely could not handle this anymore. He stood there gripping the edge of the sink while cold water ran over his fingers, trying desperately to think about literally anything other than Rehanna standing in that apartment wrapped in Rehman’s shawl with her bare legs peeking out beneath it. Ya Allah. Her legs. Her fucking beautiful legs. They would haunt him until the grave. He squeezed his eyes shut hard enough to see stars behind them.

Think of literally anything else. Guns. Violence. Tax fraud. The Pakistani economy. Cricket scores. Anything. But the moment he walked back into the living room and accidentally caught another glimpse of her sleepy silk clad form beneath the shawl he immediately looked away again so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He retreated to the darkest corner of the room like a traumatized Victorian man protecting his modesty, aggressive blush burning across his face while he prayed nobody noticed him malfunctioning. 

A few minutes later more men entered through the broken apartment door carrying stacks of large flat boxes, rolls of bubble wrap, tape guns, packing paper, ropes, markers, all the things needed to dismantle a life quickly. They stopped respectfully the moment they saw her and lowered their heads. “Salam Vakeel Sahiba.” She nodded silently in response. And just like that everybody understood. It was time to pack up her life. Nobody needed instructions after that. The apartment erupted into movement almost immediately. Men spread across every room with military efficiency. Tape ripped through the silence. Cardboard boxes unfolded. Bubble wrap crackled beneath rough hands. 

Someone began carefully wrapping framed photographs while another group moved toward the bookshelves like they were preparing for war. Rehanna herself tried to stand and help but the moment Rehman saw her lifting even a single book his entire expression darkened. “Nahi aap baithiye… yeh sab dekh lenge.” His voice left absolutely no room for argument as he pointed toward the sofa. “Lekin Dakait Sahab—” His eyes flashed at her immediately. Not anger. Never anger. It was worse than anger. It was that sharp terrifying kind of concern people only develop when someone becomes precious enough to scare them. The kind that says if you push yourself right now I will personally fight God over it.

She stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes softly and sitting back down with an irritated huff. Rehman immediately turned away again and resumed organizing the men with frightening precision. He made sure her belongings were packed carefully, neatly, respectfully. Three men handled her bookshelves with the caution of museum archivists, gently stacking her novels and law books into labeled boxes. Three more worked through her kitchen wrapping plates and glasses individually while trying not to break anything expensive. Another group carefully packed her strange little decorative trinkets and framed photographs from around the apartment. Outside the apartment four armed men stood guard in the hallway with guns slung across their shoulders. Nobody was taking chances tonight. 

While the chaos unfolded around them Rehanna quietly grabbed Hamza’s wrist and tugged him aside toward the corridor near her bedroom. “Dhyan se sun,” she whispered low enough that only he could hear. “Meri almari me kuch R&AW ka saman hai. Jaake usko nikal aur apne ghar me chupa de…… mai baadme lungi.” Hamza’s face immediately lost all traces of softness. He nodded once. “Samajh gaya.” And disappeared down the hallway without another word. 

Meanwhile Rehanna sat in the middle of her own apartment looking almost detached from reality as gangsters wrapped up her existence around her like professional movers and packers. She leaned back against the sofa cushions and lit a cigarette with tired fingers, inhaling deeply as if nicotine alone was holding her nervous system together. She leaned forward to tap the ash into the ashtray sitting on her coffee table. But before the ash could even fall two men suddenly swooped in and lifted the entire table away. Her hand froze midair. “K-kya bhenchod….” The men immediately panicked. “Sorry baji—sorry—” And hurried away carrying the table while she stared at them in utter disbelief, cigarette still suspended between her fingers. 

A loud crashing sound echoed from somewhere near the kitchen. She shut her eyes immediately and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hai bhagwan…” Someone had dropped one of her ceramic teapots. The headache blooming behind her eyes grew sharper. In her head she cursed Babu Dakait, Arshad Pappu, and Lulli Dakait all over again. Every single one of them. Because even when they weren’t physically here anymore they were still uprooting her life piece by piece. She took another drag from her cigarette and glanced absently toward the clock hanging above the television. 

1:00 AM. Her birthday. Twenty six years old. Nobody had wished her. Not a single person. Not even Rehman. And for some reason that hurt far more than she wanted to admit. She sat there wrapped in Rehman’s shawl while his men packed her apartment into boxes and the realization sat heavily inside her chest. He knew birthdays mattered to her. He knew. She had spent his birthday teasing him about his own birthday, forcing celebration into his stubborn miserable life. And now he had forgotten hers entirely. 

Her jaw tightened slightly as she stared ahead in silence. Across the apartment Rehman remained distracted organizing the operation. Twenty minutes earlier he had already sent Uzair and another team to track down Babu Dakait, Arshad, and Lulli. His attention was divided between protecting her and planning murder. So he didn’t notice the hurt sitting quietly on her face. 

After a while she finally stood up and wandered toward the large living room window overlooking the mandir outside. She slid open the glass panel and leaned lightly against the iron grill while smoking. The humid night air brushed against her bare legs beneath the shawl. Behind her one of the men packing her books picked up a novel curiously and tilted it at different angles trying to read the English title. She sighed instantly without even turning around. “Mat kar lala…..mat kar.” The poor man jumped slightly before nodding obediently and shoving the book into the box. 

A moment later two other men attempted to carry a large piece of furniture through the living room and nearly smashed the corner directly into her skull. She recoiled backward violently. “OYE teri ammi ne tujhe palne me rakh kar hamesha hamesha ke liye chhor diya kya?” The man froze in terror. Then she pointed furiously at the second man maneuvering the furniture. “Saale saaf saaf dikh raha hai ki teri ammi ne tereko har subha paach badam aur do akhrot haldi wale doodh ke sath nahi pilaya…..mandh buddhi!” The entire apartment went silent for two seconds. Then Hamza burst into muffled laughter from the hallway. Rehman pressed his fist against his mouth trying to hide the twitch of amusement threatening his face while the two men looked personally victimized. 

Still muttering under her breath she stalked toward the kitchen with her cigarette. By the time nearly everything was packed the entire apartment echoed emptily. The walls looked stripped bare. Her shelves stood hollow. Men groaned dramatically while hauling box after box downstairs. “Bhenchod kitni kitabain hain inki…” “Meri kamar toot gayi…” “Ye lawyer hain ya library…” The complaints continued all the way down the staircase. Eventually there was nothing left except the essentials. Rehman finally approached her quietly. “Chalein?” 

She looked around her apartment one last time. Where it all began. Where she killed who she used to be and gave birth to Rehanna. The little place that had held her grief. Her healing. Her loneliness. Her laughter. Her nightmares. Her survival. Then she nodded once. 

Outside the convoy still crowded the quiet Hindu Colony street. Men loaded the last few boxes into waiting vehicles while Donga stood beside the car holding the rear door open respectfully. Rehman guided her toward it with one hand resting lightly against her back. Still fully professional. She slipped into the backseat silently, his shawl still wrapped tightly around her shoulders for warmth and modesty both. A moment later Rehman climbed in beside her while Donga took the wheel. The convoy finally began moving through Lyari’s sleeping streets. 

Rehanna sat beside him staring silently out the window at the city passing by under dim orange streetlights. Closed shops. Wandering stray dogs. Flickering signs. A city half asleep and half dangerous. Her expression remained unreadable. And in the silence of the backseat Rehman slowly let his hand move across the leather seat between them until his fingers found hers. Then without saying a single word he intertwined their hands together. And he held onto her for the entire ride home.

—---------------- 

August 23rd same day, Baloch Haveli @ 2:30 am 

Lyari, Pakistan

When the convoy finally rolled through the gates of Baloch Haveli the entire mansion glowed softly against the deep blue darkness of Lyari’s sleeping night. The fountains in the courtyard still ran quietly, the water reflecting pale gold from the lanterns lining the pathway. Rehanna stepped out of the car slowly, still wrapped tightly in Rehman’s shawl, exhaustion pulling at every inch of her body. The wind whipping against her bare legs making her shiver. And yet the moment she looked toward the entrance of the haveli her chest tightened painfully. The entire household staff stood waiting for her. Every maid. Every servant still awake at two thirty in the morning. 

Salma Bi stood at the very front holding a silver thali in her wrinkled hands. A small diya flickered softly in the center of it, its warm flame dancing against the old woman’s weathered face. And Rehanna immediately understood. Salma Bi had listened. She had listened all those weeks ago when Rehanna absentmindedly explained Indian birthday traditions over chai and coffee in the kitchen. She had listened when Rehanna spoke about aarti plates and welcoming rituals and birthdays back home in India. She had remembered. Rehman gently motioned for Rehanna to walk ahead of him and she did so slowly, almost uncertainly, the shawl slipping slightly from one shoulder as she approached the entrance steps. 

Behind her followed Rehman and behind him followed the endless trail of her life packed into boxes. Salma Bi smiled warmly the moment Rehanna reached her. Then the old woman lifted the thali and slowly circled it in front of her exactly like an Indian aarti while quietly whispering Islamic duas beneath her breath. The words were different. The love was the same. The prayer was the same. Safety. Happiness. Protection. Home. And suddenly Rehanna felt her throat tighten so painfully she nearly cried right there at the haveli entrance. “Khush raho beti,” Salma Bi whispered softly as she lowered the tray. Rehanna blinked rapidly before nodding with a trembling smile. “Shukriya Salma Bi…” The old maid immediately fussed over her like a mother, touching her cheek affectionately before ushering her inside. 

The haveli felt strangely warm tonight. Alive. Safe. They brought her first to the dining room where Salma Bi absolutely refused to let her sleep hungry. Even when she porotested weakly that she wasnt hungry. Salma bi was having none of it Rehanna was too exhausted to argue as she sat down beside Rehman at the massive dining table while bowls of warm sweet sevaiyan were placed before them. 

Around them the men continued dragging box after box upstairs, loudly complaining the entire time. “Ya Allah meri reedh ki haddi…” “Vakeel Sahiba ne library kholni hai kya…” “Kitabein kam hain ya eent?” Their whining echoed through the haveli while maids hurried upstairs behind them to immediately begin unpacking her belongings into the new rooms. Her new rooms. The spare room and library beside her own office. The room set directly across from Rehman’s own library, office, and bedroom. 

Rehanna quietly ate her sevaiyan without looking at him once. Because she was still upset. A petty upset. A childish upset. The kind of upset she didn’t even want to have because tonight had been terrifying and horrible and emotional and yet still… still a small aching part of her remained wounded. Nobody had wished her. Not even him. 

Beside her Rehman mistook her silence for exhaustion. His hand disappeared beneath the dining table and rested against her silk covered thigh gently, his thumb rubbing soft circles there comfortingly while he spoke distractedly with Donga about security outside. But Rehanna still refused to look at him. 

Eventually one of the maids returned downstairs and announced softly that her rooms were ready. Rehman immediately stood. “Aap sab ab ghar ja sakthe hain” he ordered the household quietly. “Aage mai dekhlunga.” One by one the staff finally dispersed. The gang members left too. Hamza hugged Rehanna once more before retreating to his own home. Donga nodded respectfully before disappearing toward the garage to check the cars before he left. Uzair wandered off toward his wing of the haveli yawning dramatically yelling a goodnight pointed to everyone and no one in particular. 

And Siyahi… Poor Siyahi made the grave mistake of looking at Rehanna one final time before leaving. The navy blue silk slip beneath the shawl caught the warm chandelier light for half a second, her bare legs bathing in the warm light, and the man nearly fucking collapsed spiritually on the spot. He feels like he is about to die. Siyahi immediately turned around and fled to his home without another word.

Rehman led Rehanna quietly up the grand staircase toward the second floor. The haveli had gone mostly silent now except for the distant hum of ceiling fans and the faint clinking sounds of maids still unpacking somewhere down the hall. Finally they stopped outside a carved wooden door. Rehman opened it for her. And Rehanna froze. The room was perfect. Painfully perfect. It felt familiar and new all at once. Like somebody had reached inside her mind and built a room out of all the small comforts she never verbalized aloud. 

The hardwood furniture matched her office perfectly. Pale blue curtains framed the tall balcony doors where moonlight spilled across the floor. A canopy bed stood in the center draped with airy white linen curtains and layered with deep blue ikat print bedding. The bedside lamps carried tiny mirrorwork details that matched the décor of her office exactly. It felt like her apartment. And yet softer. Safer. Bigger. Home-like. She hated how well Rehman knew her. “Har bar…har bar perfect… god damn it” she muttered under her breath so rehman wouldn't hear.

Slowly she walked inside and sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her softly as she finally slipped his shawl from her shoulders. Now only the navy blue silk slip remained, the black lace trim resting delicately against her skin while moonlight from the balcony painted silver against her bare legs. Rehman stood there quietly watching her reaction. Watching her. Watching how she was finally in his house. How she would always be within reach. How she would always be with him.

And when she looked up at him her eyes softened slightly. She leaned back against the pillows and motioned silently for him to come sit beside her. He obeyed. “Mera khayal rakhne ke liye shukriya,” she murmured softly while absently playing with the hemline of her slip between her fingers. She exposed more of her milky legs to him as she fiddled with the lace. But despite the genuine gratitude something still lingered beneath her voice.

A tiny unhappiness. A bratty little hurt she herself probably knew was irrational. Rehman frowned slightly. Ofcourse he had caught it. Then suddenly realization hit him like a fucking truck. Oh. Oh shit. Her birthday. He forgot to wish her. Because of the chaos. Because of the rage. Because of the fear. But he forgot. And now he felt like the world’s biggest idiot. Immediately he leaned closer until barely inches remained between their faces.

 His voice softened completely. “Happy birthday meri jaan… maaf kardo ki humne itna time laga diya… lekin phir bhi humne sabse pehla birthday wish diya hai aapko…” His words brushed against her lips before his mouth finally met hers to further cement his apology. 

The kiss was slow. Gentle. Apologetic. His large hands rested warmly against her bare thighs while one of her hands slid into his hair, like it was her fingers natural resting place. Their mouths moved together softly at first before the kiss deepened little by little, exhaustion and relief and affection all melting together in the quiet darkness of the room. When they finally pulled apart she smiled for real this time. “Thank you Rehman…” The knot inside her chest loosened instantly. He hummed softly against her forehead. “Badhiya birthday?” She laughed dryly and shook her head immediately a pout on her face again “Ghatiya birthday.” That made him laugh properly. Then suddenly he reached toward the bedside drawer and pulled out a long velvet box. 

Rehanna blinked in confusion “Yeh kya hai?”. Slowly Rehman opened it. And the entire room seemed to catch light. The payals rested inside like something royal. Platinum gold gleamed beneath the moonlight spilling through the balcony doors. Marquis cut diamonds clustered into blooming lotus flowers while emeralds curved around them like delicate leaves. Tiny ghungroos shimmered beneath them waiting to sing with every step. Rehanna’s entire face changed instantly. Her eyes widened so dramatically it almost made him grin. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Rehman…” Her voice came out barely above a whisper. 

Carefully he lifted the payals from the box and placed them into her hands. The tiny bells chimed softly between them while diamonds scattered fractured moonlight across her fingers. For a moment she simply stared. Completely enchanted. Completely in love. Then unexpectedly she handed them back to him. Rehman blinked. “Aapko pasand nahi aya?” he asked immediately, genuine worry flickering across his face. 

Without answering she slowly pointed toward the floor in front of her bed. And waited. Understanding dawned across his expression instantly. A slow dangerous smirk appeared on his face as he obeyed. Rehman lowered himself onto the floor before her, kneeling between her legs while the payals rested carefully in his hands. Then she lifted one bare foot and placed it softly against his shoulder. Her heel resting on his heart. The action hit him like a gunshot. “Jo laye…” she murmured lazily while leaning back against the pillows, eyes gleaming mischievously. “Voh hi pehnaye.” The tension in the room turned almost unbearable. 

Rehman’s fingers slid slowly around her ankle as if handling something sacred. His large rough hand contrasted obscenely against her soft skin. He stared up at her while carefully fastening the payal around her ankle, the tiny bells trembling with every movement. Then before securing the clasp he turned his head slightly and pressed a slow lingering kiss against the inside of her ankle right on top of the lock. Rehanna inhaled sharply. The reaction alone nearly destroyed him. 

His eyes never left hers as he used his teeth to gently fasten the clasp into place, the cool platinum resting beautifully against her skin now. His head dipped as he clasped the lock, his hair falling over his forehead as he watched her like a hawk. The ghungroos chimed softly when she shifted slightly against the bedspread. Heat bloomed across her skin, her neck flushed as she watched him.  

And suddenly Rehman understood why kings lost wars over women. Because kneeling before her like this didn’t feel humiliating. It felt natural. Like worship. Like surrender. Like he would happily spend the rest of his life at her feet if she asked. When he finished the first payal he kissed her ankle once more before lifting her other foot carefully onto his shoulder. 

This time her breathing already sounded uneven. Neither of them looked away. Not once. The room had gone completely silent except for the faint jingling of the payals and their breathing. His fingers traced slowly along her calf before settling at her ankle again while he secured the second payal in place. Her toes curled slightly against the fabric of his kurta at the feeling of his mouth brushing her skin again. 

And God. The look on her face. Half shy and pleased. Half intoxicated by love and lust. And completely his. By the time he finished fastening the second payal the air between them burned so heavily it almost felt difficult to breathe. Rehman remained kneeling there for a moment longer, both her ankles resting lightly against him while the diamonds glittered beneath the moonlight. 

Then finally he looked up at her fully. And the sight nearly killed him. Because she looked like she had been adorned for him. Like every ghungroo now belonged to him. Like every future sound of those payals would become something that haunted him for the rest of his fucking life. 

From his position on his knees he can see her shaky breathing, dilated pupils, her blushing cheeks. The slight tremor in her body, the moonlight bathing her, bathing the payals, bathing the diamonds making them refract light across her skin. 

He knows her reaction very well. He knows her body better than she does in some ways. He can practically smell it. How a drought hardened animal can smell water in the air. He could smell the sweet scent of her, her arousal. He had a sneaking suspiscion now. A suspicion that she was completely bare under that slinky little slip. And now he had to find out or he might die. 

He kept her feet on his shoulders as he rose from the floor slowly, his hands sliding beneath her calves to steady her as he pushed himself upright. The movement forced her further back against the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight with a soft creak while the navy silk of her slip rode dangerously high against her thighs. The slip riding up exposing all of her legs to him. No panties. Fucking hell. No panties. Her breasts bouncing behind the thin silk fabric as she lands on her back. Nipples already pebbling through the thin fabric and the night air. 

Moonlight spilled through the balcony curtains behind her, painting silver over her skin, over the black lace trim hugging the edge of the fabric, over the platinum gold payals now wrapped around her ankles like something divine and dangerous all at once. Rehman’s breath caught slightly at the sight of her. Not because he had never seen her before. God knew he had memorized every inch of her existence already. But tonight felt different. Tonight those payals sat on her feet because of him. Tonight she wore his gift. Tonight she was here to stay in his haveli. Tonight his name existed somewhere in the sound of those tiny bells. But the sound never came. His brows furrowed immediately. Because she was keeping perfectly still. 

The ghungroo rested against his chest in complete silence while her legs slowly slid lower from his shoulders to his pectorals as she leaned fully back against the pillows. Her feet stayed planted against him without the slightest movement, not even enough to create a tiny chime. And then he saw it. That grin. That infuriating, beautiful, smug little grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was doing it on purpose.

Rehman stared at her for a long moment before he exhaled a disbelieving laugh through his nose, his palms dragging slowly up her legs again, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his rough hands. Feeling her bare skin shiver against his palms “Acha…” he murmured lowly. “Toh yeh baat hai?” Her smile widened innocently as if she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. The woman had the audacity to blink at him sweetly while actively torturing him. 

Rehman climbed onto the bed by his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he caged her beneath him slowly. Her legs remained draped against his chest, deliberately motionless, the bells silent despite how desperately he wanted to hear them. His kurta brushed against her bare skin as he leaned over her, one hand settling beside her head while the other slowly slid along her thigh, thumb tracing absent patterns against her skin. Making her lashes flutter. “Ek baar aap sunayengi bhi nahi jaan?” he murmured, voice rough and heavy with lust, his gaze fixed entirely on her face now. Her lashes fluttered again at his tone. 

Then she smirked. Actually smirked. And before he could speak again, she slowly lifted the foot resting against his chest and tapped it once over his heart. Tap. Chan. The tiny bells sang softly into the room. Rehman’s entire body went still. 

Her grin became more wicked at the reaction on his face before she tapped again. Tap. Chan. His jaw clenched. The sound was delicate. Pretty. Feminine. But something about hearing those bells directly over his heartbeat felt catastrophic to his sanity. Like she had wrapped chains around his ribs and was pulling tighter with every tiny sound. 

She tapped again. Tap. Chan. And Rehman felt something inside him snap clean in half. “Rehanna…” he warned softly, dangerously softly. She only tilted her head against the pillow, now on her elbows to watch him better, her eyes glittering with amusement as she tapped once more against his chest. Tap. Chan. That was it. Rehman surged forward instantly. 

She gasped as her legs parted on instinct around his waist, the bells finally erupting into a chaotic chorus as he crashed his mouth against hers hard enough to steal the breath from both of them. The kiss was immediate heat, immediate desperation, weeks and weeks of restraint on Rehman's part burning alive all at once. 

His hand slid into her hair while the other gripped her thigh firmly, dragging her closer against him until there wasn’t an inch of space left between their bodies. The payals rang again now. Every tiny movement of her legs sent the bells singing into the dark room, filling the air with sharp silver music that only seemed to drive him more insane. 

She made a muffled sound into his mouth when he kissed her deeper, her fingers instantly tangling into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp in a way that made him groan against her lips. The sound vibrated straight through her chest. “Bohot shauq hai aapko hume tang karne ka?” he muttered breathlessly against her mouth before kissing her again without waiting for an answer.

She laughed softly into the kiss, the sound warm and dizzy and entirely too pleased with herself. “Aapka reaction dekhne layak tha…” she whispered. “Jaan,” he breathed against her lips, forehead pressing briefly against hers while his hands tightened arround her silk clad waist, “aapko bilkul andaza nahi hai aap mere sath kya kar rahi hain.” But judging by the victorious smile spreading across her flushed face, she absolutely did.  

—--------

He was about to wipe that smile clean off her face. Rehman's hands wandered over her slip, his palms gliding against the silk as he felt up her body. Gropping her hips and kneading her breast through the fabric. Feeling her flushed body heat make the cool fabric warm. His other hand rested on her bare thigh, moving agonizingly slowly. Tracing absent patterns on the muscle as he worked his way up her leg. Squeezing and massaging the flesh as he got closer and closer to here she dripped in need. 

Rehanna sighed, her eyes shutting in pleasure as she felt his hands on her body. He was being so gentle, so reverent with his touch it was suspicious. Weeks….it had been weeks since he had fucked her and her body sure felt it. He had been giving her pleasure, yes. But nothing ever matched when she had all of him. Her body craved it. Her body craved him. 

His left hand rested on her right breast through the silk fabric. His palms kneaded her until Rehanna was arching into his touch with little gasps. His fingers brushed over her sensitive and peaked nipples through the fabric, his lips kissed own her jaw, down her neck. His fingers rolled the sensitive bud through the fabric. The feeling of the silk and the pressure of his fingers on her nipple made her arch into his touch with a broken gasp. 

He continued trailing wet and messy kisses down her neck. The neckline of the slip gave him a nice plot of land to work on her chest. He littered it with kisses, bites and hickeys. The patch of exposed skin turning red with a flush and his handiwork. All while he massaged her thigh, his calloused palms brushing against her sensitive inner thighs as he ran his hands all around where she need them the most. Running his palm up to her dripping cunt and then without touching it at all working his way down again. A constant tease. He groaned dirty praise into her neck. “Mashallah….kitni haseen ho tum meri jaan…..meri jaan… sirf meri” the possesion husked his voice, he licked at the junction of her throat and jaw. His hand on her thigh squeezing the flesh in a pulsing motion that mirrored her own desperat cunt. 

“R-rehman…aisa mat karo” she gasped when he teased her the 5th time around. His heavy paw like hand on her breast, his other hand skimming along the edge of her dripping cunt but pulling away just as quick. She could feel her wetness drip out of her, her cheeks burned at the thought. Rehman picked his head up, momentarily stoping the assault of his lips on her neck. “Kyun rukun mai?...huh?” he questioned darkly his hand that was on her breast now resting on the bed so he could prop himself up and watch her flushed face. 

“Maine rukne ko nahi kaha… maine bola aisa mat karo…kuch to karo! Aise chidao mat please” she clarified, her hands tangling in the collar of his kurta. The desperation was so evident in her voice. Rehman smirked “kuch karun?” she nodded desperately. He smiled wickedly before his head dipped down. Before she could comprehend his hot wet mouth had descended on her breast. His tongue soaked the silk fabric making it suction to her skin as he mouthed at the covered mound. His tongue flicked her hardened peak through the fabric until it stood out clearly. 

He bit down on her nipple through the fabric. Making Rehanna hiss as she tangled her fingers in his hair. He didnt let go, his teeth still clamped gently he began pulling at the nipple rhythmically. A low groan pulled from her chest as she felt the sparks travel from her breast to ther clit. The hand at her thigh now began shoving up the fabric of the slip so it would pool at her waist. His large hand wrenched her thighs open further than the already were. His thumb rubbing gentle circles on the flesh that was at the junction of her weeping cunt and thigh. She moaned, her hips bucking slightly to chase the pleasure he was holding just a few centimeters away. 

His mouth pulled off her now wet silk covered breast. The fabric vacumed around the breast. He blew cold air on the area, the wetness in the fabric acting as a conductor super cooling her flushed skin. A stark change in temperature that made her gasp and grab at his kurta. “Rehman please aur mat chidao mereko” she whined against his lips when she dragged him down by the collar for a kiss. 

He hummed against her lips. Kissing her back as his thumb continued tracing the junction of skin between her thigh and her weeping cunt. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, asking her to open her mouth for him. She didn't realise or didn't oblige, whatever the case she kept kissing against his lips. Rehman retracted the hand that traced the sensitive patch of skin. And before she could whine or protest he re-positioned his hand. His middle and ring fingers sticking out slightly differently than the rest of his fingers. And with no warning he shoved his two fingers into her. Before she could moan, his fingers curled against her g-spot instantly. Taping hard against her gummy walls. Excellent muscle memory on Rehman’s part, making her mouth hang open ins a silent scream as her cunt clenched at the sudden intrusion. Perfect thought Rehman with a smug grin. 

Her lips remained parted or rather her mouth continued to hang open as Rehman pistoned his fingers in at out of her. No gentle build up just a hard punishing pace that his fingers set. Hitting her g-spot every damn time like she was a target practice bullseye. “Ah- AH….. oh….oh  Rehman” she scrambled. It was so good that her body was confused. It was so good her breathing grew labored as she screwed her eyes shut. 

Her hands fumbling for grip against the cotton sheets her body trying to catch up with his pace, her cunt failing to keep up with his fingers. It was so good that it almost didnt even feel pleasurable anymore. The strangest sensation, a paradox on its own. So good that it didn't even feel good. Her cunt desperately tried to catch up and it clenched off sync to his pistoning. “Shh shhh bas bas meri jaan” he grinned. She dint understand why he was grinning. Her brow furrowed.

His lips found hers again, his tongue pushing into her mouth with ease now. Exactly what he wanted in the first palace. Now that he had it, now that he kissed her deeply, he slowed his pace to a stop. Giving her a moment of respite. And as he kissed her she realized what he had done, why he was grinning a second ago. The glorious bastard had used her own biology against her. He was so experienced in her body that Rehman new how to manipulate one aspect to trigger another. That was so unbelievably hot. 

She moaned against his mouth, her cunt clenching on his stationary fingers. Rehmans thumb gently circled her puffy and screaming for attention clit. The dual feeling of being full with his fingers and the stimulation of her clit sent sparks around her body. Slowly he began pumping his fingers in and out of her. Swirling his fingers in figure eights inside of her, hitting her g-spot every other thrust. A beautiful pattern that had her into a melted puddle in seconds. Panting against his mouth as she caught her breath. She could feel his smug smile, it was infuriating. 

Her hips stuttered as she reverse thrust against his fingers, chasing pleasure. Her new payals chiming as she planted her feet flat on the bed, hips lifting and fucking back against his fingers in a desperation for pleasure. Chan, chan, chan, each chime was her meeting the thrust of his fingers. He groaned into her neck, the rhythmic squelching sound of her wet cunt as he fucked her and the sound of the payals. Making a combination so beautiful it was deadly. Rehman might die. “Oh- meri jaan..” moaned Rehman at the sight. He was impossibly hard through this entire ordeal, the fact just now catching up to him. 

His fingers sped up their pace, fucking into her with more reason now. Her hips fell against the bed again. One hand pistoned into her cunt, the other pressed agaisnt her lower abdomen. The pressure making the pleasure delirious. Her gasps and moans increasing in frequency, her legs quivering. Her hands grabbed on to his bicep, hugging it close as she choked on a moan. Her nails digging into the clothed muscle, leaving crescent shaped marks through the fabric. The pain grounded Rehman. She meweld and keeaned into his arm. Her legs shook so much her payals chimed faintly. He pressed numerous kisses to her forehead as he fucked his fingers into her. 

Whispering numerous praises against her forehead, he pistoned his fingers into her at the original pace he began at. A silent scream ripped from her throat as she threw her head back against the pillows. Her hands leaving his bicep and tangling in her own hair as the pleasure became blinding. Now that they were in the rhythm, his original demonically fast pace was now the pinnacle of pleasure. She writhed on the sheets. He maintained the pace of his fingers, ignoring how they cramped. 

Her legs clamped shut. It was too much, too god damn much. She moaned desperately. “Jaan kholo.” Rehman demanded grufly, with her legs shut he wasnt able to shove his fingers into her. She turned her head and keeand into the pillows. She was lost in the pleasure. Absolutely useless. But her body recognized that the pleasure had slowed she whined to him “Rehman please” and thats when he knew he would have to handle it. Rehman grunted in effort and used the hand that was holding pressure at her abdomen to wrench her thighs apart. Her payals chimed with the rough movement. His ears locked on to the sound desperately. 

He shoved his fingers back into her desperate cunt. A scream ripped from her throat as he pulled back up to the demonicly amazing pace. His fingers curling into a come here motion and hitting against her g-spot every god damn time. Her breathing went uneven, she began whispering his name into the night as she felt herself get closer to the edge, her plump lips parted as she panted, her throat stretched as her head lolled uselssly in pleasure. Her hands gripping the sheets. “Rehman…rehman… rehman..REHMAN” each chant geting louder and louder. She was close, practically over the edge.

“Bas meri jaan..” he grunted in effort, his fingers cramping and burning. “Teen…” he began the count down. Her cue. “Do…” it took her a herculean effort not to cum right on the spot. Her eyes screwed shut. Her core tightneing and the pleasure pulling at her navel. His fingers somehow sped up even more. How it was possible she didnt know “GAHh- please” she choked on a moan or a sob she wasn't sure anymore. He kissed her forehead again, resting his own against hers. “Ek..” he murmured. The hand that held open her thighs now going to rub hard circles on her clit. 

Her back arched as she moaned. Her cunt spasming around his fingers as she gushed with wetness. Stars burst behind her eyes, her whole body tensed but her legs shook. Payals shaking in the dark moonlit room. The metallic sound slicing through their groans. He kept going, his fingers slowing down a fraction so as to not overwhelm her but just as persistent. He fucked her through her orgasm.

As she came back to earth she realized one tragic thing. Rehman wasnt stopping, infact he was speeding up again. Before she could slam her legs shut Rehman was already there pinning them open again. He wanted one more from her, he didnt care that his hand was burning so much he feared it might fall off. “Rehman.. Please nahi…rukjao thodi der” she choked on a sob of overstimulation. She just needed a minute to catch her breath. 

He leaned down “ek aur ya qalbi… muje ek aur dedo” he murmured against her lips. Fingers still not stoping, still not slowing. “Nahi hopayega!” she exclaimed, her body overstimulated already. Her breathing so irregular she was gasping for breath. His fingers still not stopping, but he did slow down considerably. He kissed her forehead “shhh.. Ya qalbi.. Meri awaz suno” her gasping and writhing calmed slightly. 

“Gehri sans lo meri jaan. Aur bas mehssos karo….sirf mai aur aap aur ye chandni raat” he whispered in her ear. His eyes motioning for her to look out at the bright full moon in the balcony. She took shaky breaths, calming herself down for him. Her eyes locking on to the moon. Once she was calm enough Rehman felt it. He grinned like a wolf, and began pistoning his fingers again.

A scream of surprise died in her throat. She couldnt think. She could breath, her body was as taugh as a wire. “Kitna achha kar rahi ho tum mereliye jaan..” he moaned into her neck as she clenched particularly hard around his fingers. He could imagine it was his cock. Speaking of which, was now painfully hard in his clothes. It twitched with each of her breathy cries. He was aching he was desperate now. He curled his fingers just right one more time and she came hard, moaning into his mouth desperately as he gently and slowly moved her through it. 

AUTHORS NOTE: Plz listen to Aankh Ladjave from badshah for this part

Shuru! 

Jo akh lad jaave 

Saari raat neend na aave 

Mainu bada tadpaave 

Dil chain kahin na paave paave paave 

Rehman lay her gently against the pillows, pulling his fingers out of her. He kissed her fore head, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. She whined at the loss of his fingers. She could feel her cum dripping out of her. He cooed at her to comfort her “bas meri jaan bas do minute do merko” he pulled away and pulled the two fingers that were in her moments ago into his own mouth. He moaned shamelessly at the taste. Her face flushed as she watched him shameleslsy enjoy her taste from his fingers. 

He stood up front he bed and began discarding his own clothes. His fingers at his collar, unbuttoning it as he watches her with pure hunger in his eyes. She sat there. Her hair a mess, her lips swollen and parted, her face flushed, eyes dilated, neck littered with blooming red marks, chest heaving, thighs shaking. Yet she looked at him like she was still hungry. Despite begging him to stop a few minutes ago…she was still hungry. The silk slip was a mess. The bottom of it shoved up to her hips. The fabric strained around her chest. Her breasts threatened to spill out of the cups. The straps so loose they were barely on her shoulders. She shifted slightly under his burning gaze. The payals clinked. 

Fucking ruined…Fucking beautiful. He began by pulling off his kurta in one fell swoop, tossing it to the ground. Then his salwar. His fingers fumbled with the drawstring he cursed in frustration. “Rukiye,” she said softly. Shifting onto her knees, gasping in the after shocks of her orgasms. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. She leaned forward taking the strings os his salwar from him. Carefully undoing the knot under his burning stare. He was loosing it. Burning internally.  Once she was done she leaned back and motioned for him to continue. Like she had unpaused a show. 

He arched an eyebrow at her. She shrugged with a loopy smile. He smirked and then he continued undressing. The shalwar hit the floor and his boxers followed soon after. His cock stood at attention, hard and leaking. She bit her lip slightly as she watched him pump his cock. Once. twice. Thrice. Rehman walked to her and took her chin in his hand, the other hand still on his cock. “Asie apne hoton ko na chabaiye…” he murmured freeing her lip from her teeth using his thumb. “...Ye humara kaam hai” he whispred before he crashed his lips to hers. Biting her lip as he promised he would. 

His hands picked at the delicate spaghetti straps of the slip. Sliding them off her shoulders. The fabric slipping off her body with painfull ease as Rehman bared every inch of her in the moonlight. “Mashallah….har baar aisa lagta hai ki pehli bar dekh raha hun” he groans in aprecation as he lays her back on the bed. His eyes running to his favorite thing on her body.. Her tattoos. The one that wrapped arround her whole body, the leaves and vines that drove him absolutely bat shit insane everytime he saw it. His lips began tracing each vine. Kissing each leaf, biting each flower. She shivered benrath him. Her nails dragging along his back gently. 

Jo akh lad jaave 

Saari raat neend na aave 

Mainu bada tadpaave 

Dil chain kahin na paave paave paave 

Distracted by his kisses she dosnt realize how he man handles her into position. A gasp escaped Rehanna’s  lips, a mix of shock and thrill that sent a shiver through her body. A mating press. He had her in a mating press, her remind reeled. Her legs were thrown over his shoulers her payal chiming by his ears. He looked like he had gone insane. Like each ghungroo was his kryptonite. Her payal chimed softly as her feet dangled over his broad shoulders, the delicate metal contrasting with the raw power of his muscular frame pressing down on her. 

She was fully exposed now, her thighs splayed wide in the mating press her slick cunt glistening under the dim bedroom light, already dripping with anticipation from their earlier activites. His thick veined cock stood rigid against her entrance, the swollen head leaking a bead of precum that trickled down his shaft. He growled low in his throat, his voice rough with dominance, "Jaan-e-amn ye payal ki chanak sun’ne ke liye me taras gaya hun" His hands gripped her hips firmly, fingers digging into her soft flesh, positioning her even more precisely so that every inch of him could plunge into her waiting cunt.

Khan khan khan khan choodi (DOES IT SAY CHOODI …..YES BUT IMAGINE PAYAL)

Teri khan khan khan khan khanke re 

Khan khan khan khan khanke 

Slowly, deliberately, Rehman began to push forward, the head of his cock stretching her tight entrance inch by agonizing inch. Rehanna’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she felt the burning stretch, her inner walls clenching around him in reflexive resistance before relaxing to the inevitable, to the overwhelming fullness. 

The wet, squelching sound of her pussy taking him filled the room, echoing off the walls like a lewd symphony, punctuated by the faint jingle of her payal brushing against his ears. "Oh fuck.." she moaned, her voice a husky blend of strain and pleasure, her nails raking down his back as she arched beneath him. 

He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over her face. The scent of their arousal hung heavy in the air, driving him to grind deeper, rotating his hips to hit that sweet spot inside her that made her toes curl against his shoulders. As he sank fully into her, his cock buried to the hilt, Rehanna’s body trembled with the intensity of being completely impaled, her cunt gripping him like a vice, pulsing with every throb of his shaft. 

Rehman held still for a moment, savoring the way her warmth enveloped him, his dominant nature reveling in the control he had over her pliant form. "Birthday aapka hai lekin gift mear hai yeh…dekho kaise tum mereko le rahi ho" he rasped, his words dripping with lusty affection as he pulled back slightly, only to slam back in with a deliberate, forceful rhythm that made her breasts bounce wildly. 

Vekh vekh ke chehra 

Mera dil yeh dhak dhak dhadke re 

Dil yeh dhak dhak dhadke 

The sound of their bodies colliding—wet slaps of skin on skin—mingled with her sharp gasps and his deep grunts, creating a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of their hearts. She could feel every ridge and vein of his dick dragging against her sensitive walls, the angle of the mating press forcing him to grind against her G-spot with each thrust, sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to her core. Her payal chimed incessantly now, a erotic backdrop to the raw fucking, as sweat slicked their bodies, making his broad chest glide against her nipples, which were hard and aching for more.

Tarsaave tere bin yeh reh na paave

Maahi jo tu na aave aave aave 

Jo akh lad jaave 

Saari raat neend na aave 

Mainu bada tadpaave

With each of Rehman’s thrusts she feels herself loose herself in pleasure. Her head lolling back onto the pillows as she tries to get her bearings. Every time she gets close to gathering her focus he pushes in so hard that all she can do is release a broken moan. Much to Rehman's pleasure, he loved this. He loved when he gave her so much pleasure she lost herself in it. Her hands clawed at his shoulders. Her nails digging in to the fles as she left long red scratches on his back. One hand fell from his shoulders and wrapped around him from the side, to the middle of his back. Her hand reached again. Her brain had given her one instruction. A heart. She took the nail of her index finger and began scratching the shape into his back inbetween his thrusts.

He hissed in pleasure leaning down to kiss her as he slowed wown his sthrusts for hust a few seconds. Snapping his hips into her deepr and harder. Like wanted to feel every single inch of him. Like he wanted her walls to memorise every vein on his cock as it impaled her. He was so lost he didn't realize what shape she was drawing into his back. He was lost int he leisure and the pain. The sting of her nails the warmth of her wals. He moaned against her neck. 

Leti meri jaan hai teri ek look 

Baaki shaaki gaane ke jaise koi hook 

Dekh ke chanda vi gaya tujhe chhup 

Baat meri sun baby bilkul chup 

Leti meri jaan hai teri ek look 

Baaki shaaki gaane ke jaise koi hook 

Her pussy clenched around him in response, tighter than ever, the slick heat drawing him in deeper, as if begging for the release only he could give, and with that, Rehanna’s control shattered completely. Her moans escalated into unrestrained shouts, each one louder than the last, echoing through the stifling air of the room as Rehman’s cock plunged into her depths with unrelenting force. 

The way his thick shaft dragged along her swollen walls, hitting that perfect spot deep inside, sent shockwaves of ecstasy ripping through her body, making her voice rise in pitch, a raw, primal scream that blended with the wet, squishing sounds of her cunt swallowing him whole. She arched her back even more, her breasts heaving with every gasping breath, the hard peaks of her nipples scraping against his sweat-slicked chest as he drove into her, his hips grinding in a merciless rhythm that pushed her closer to the edge.

Dekh ke chanda vi gaya tujhe chhup 

Baat meri sun baby bilkul chup 

Rehman felt the vibrations of her cries against his skin, the sound piercing the haze of their passion, and he knew they couldn't risk waking up the haveli. Everyone was on alert tonight after so much change. So with a low, possessive growl, he slid one hand up from her hip, his calloused palm pressing firmly over her mouth to muffle her screams, his fingers across her lips in a seal. Her hot breath puffed against his skin, her teeth grazing his palm as she tried to vocalize her pleasure, but the pressure only heightened the intensity, turning her muffled whimpers into desperate, vibrating hums that he could feel thrumming through his arm. 

He didn't stop thrusting. instead, Rehman picked up the pace just a fraction, his cock sliding in and out with long, deliberate strokes that stretched her to her limits, the head of his cock bumping against her cervix in a way that made her eyes roll back. A dark chuckle rumbled from Rehman’s throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear, the sound low and teasing, laced with that familiar edge that always made her melt. "Shhh meri jaan… puri haveli ko aaj raat humare baare me sara sach batana hai kya?" he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down her spine, even as his hips continued their punishing rhythm.

He could feel her pussy clenching even tighter around him in response to his words, her body betraying her with fresh waves of slickness that coated his shaft, making every withdrawal and re-entry even more obscenely wet. The tease in his tone was affectionate yet crude, a reminder of how much he loved pushing her buttons, his free hand sliding down to grip her thigh, pulling her leg higher over his shoulder to change the angle, forcing his cock to grind against her G-spot with brutal precision.

Her anklets jingled softly with every jolt of his body against hers, the delicate sound a stark contrast to the vulgar symphony of their fucking, and he couldn't help but grin against her ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe as he whispered, " blikul aise hi….ekdam beqaboo mereliye haina? Apne aap ko aap smhal nahi paati haina? Mai jaanta hu jaan…" He emphasized his words with a series of hard, slow thrusts, pulling almost all the way out until just the swollen head of his cock stretched her entrance, then slamming back in with a force that made her whole body shudder, her muffled cries turning into urgent, needy whines beneath his hand. The heat between them built, sweat dripping from his brow onto her flushed skin, the salty tang mixing with the musky scent of her arousal, creating an intoxicating fog that enveloped them both.

Main baawli hoon teri 

Tu jaan hai na meri 

Bas pyaar hi hai maanga 

Kis baat ki hai deri 

Baawli hoon teri 

Tu jaan hai na meri 

Bas pyaar hi hai maanga 

Kis bata ki hai deri 

Yet he held back, teasing her further with slower, more deliberate strokes, his hand still firm over her mouth, every inch of her body alive with the vulgar, exquisite torment he inflicted. Beneath his palm, Rehanna’s lips moved frantically, her words muffled and desperate, forming incoherent pleas that vibrated against his skin like electric shocks. "Pl-please Rehman…aur nahi ruka jayega please" she begged from behind his hand, her voice a garbled whisper of raw need, her eyes pleading. The pressure of his fingers against her lips only fueled her desperation, making her buck her hips upward to meet his thrusts, her pussy clenching around his thick cock in rhythmic spasms that begged for release, the slick walls gripping him so tightly it felt like she was trying to milk every drop from him before he was ready.

Aaja chal tu mere saath yaara chal tu 

Yeh raat kabhi na aave aave aave 

Jo akh lad jaave 

Saari raat neend na aave 

Mainu bada tadpaave 

Dil chain kahin na paave paave paave 

Sensing her unraveling, Rehman leaned down slowly, his broad chest pressing against her sweat-slicked skin as he lowered his mouth to her breasts, capturing one hardened nipple between his lips with a hungry suck that drew a fresh, muffled whimper from her throat. He swirled his tongue around the pebbled peak, the taste of her salty skin mixing with the faint tang of their shared sweat, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh just enough to make her arch harder beneath him, her payals jingling in protest against his shoulders. As he sucked harder, his palm shifted subtly, his fingers prying her lips open.

Slipping two fingers past her teeth and into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. She responded instantly, her tongue swirling around them with eager, instinctive sucks, drawing them in deep as if they were another part of him to devour, the suction making a lewd, slurping sound that echoed the wet squelches of her cunt taking his pounding cock. Rehman groaned low and guttural at the sensation, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into her body, his hips never faltering as he continued pistoning into her, each thrust deliberate and forceful, dragging his veined shaft along her stretched inner walls with a grinding rhythm that hit her G-spot dead on.

Saari raat, saari raat, saari raat 

Neend na aave jo akh lad jaave 

Saari raat, saari raat, saari raat

Neend na aave jo akh lad jaave 

Jo akh lad jaave 

Jo akh lad jaave 

As their bodies moved in perfect, synchronized rhythm, the room filled with the symphony of their passion—the wet, squelching thrusts of his cock in her dripping cunt, the muffled slurps of her mouth around his fingers, the soft jingles of her payals, and their mingled breaths turning into harsh, ragged pants. Rehman finally released her nipple with a pop, lifting his head to lock eyes with her, his intense gaze burning into her with an unspoken promise of release. 

He pulled his fingers out of her mouth. Placing it on her mouth again, Rehman knew she would be loud. Placing a hand on her hip as he pistoned into her. Her pussy clamped down on him like a vise, pulsing wildly as the orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing beneath him, waves of ecstasy ripping through her in violent tremors that made her scream silently against his hand. 

At the same time, Rehman felt his own climax surging, the tightness of her cunt milking his cock with unbearable force, their eyes locked in that burning stare that stripped away everything but their shared desire. " Mashallah" he growled, his voice breaking as he slammed into her one final time, his thick shaft pulsing violently inside her, ropes of hot cum erupting from the swollen head to paint her inner walls. 

Rehnanna’s orgasm mirrored his, her pussy spasming around him, squeezing out every drop as her own release gushed forth,an overflowing mess. They rode the wave together, their bodies locked in that intimate press, his cock throbbing with while her cunt clenched in rhythmic aftershocks, the eye contact holding them captive. Rehman braced himself on a hand so he wouldnt crush her. His breath ragged as her eyes fluttered and she gasped in the aftershocks. 

Khatam

Rehanna is lost. She is floating through space. Or atleast thats what it feels like anyways. Rehman had pulled out gently making her whine in overstimulation. He ran a soothing hand on her waist. She stared blankly out the balcony as Rehman reached for the water bottle ont he bedside table. He took a few greedy gulps himself before he gently brought the bottle to Rehnna’s lips. She gulped until her throat was satisfied before she fell back against the bed again. 

Rehman got off the bed with a groan and went to the attached bathroom, where he cleaned himself up and brought a warm wet towel to clean her up. He climbed on the bed and gently began wiping her up so she would be clean and comfortable. She fluttered in and out of sleep a smile on her face. 

Rehman tossed the towel on the floor before he reached for her discarded slip on the floor.  He gently manuvered her boneless body intot he slip and adjusted it into place. He pulled on just his salwar that he had discarded earlier. In her sleep she whined for him. 

He lay back down next to her with a sigh, pulling up the sheets around them. Making sure to tuck her in properly. She shifted closer to him, wrapping her arm around his chest. Mumbling something sleepily that Rehman didnt quite catch. So he just pulled her close and kissed her forehead. His hand patting her side rhythmically to lull her to sleep.

—----------

The morning of Rehanna’s birthday @ 11 am

Rehanna’s bedroom, Baloch haveli, Lyari, Pakistan

The first thing Rehman felt when he woke up was warmth. Not the weather. Not the sunlight filtering through the pale blue curtains of her new room. Not even the softness of the mattress beneath him. Her. Her tangled around him like she had wrapped herself into his very bones sometime during the night. 

For a few long moments he didn’t even open his eyes. He simply stayed there listening. Listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing against his chest. Listening to the faint rustle of linen every time she shifted in her sleep. Listening to the occasional tiny chan of her new payals whenever her feet brushed against the sheets. Each tiny ring made something stupidly soft happen to his chest.

Last night he had fully intended to leave after she fell asleep. He had planned it properly. He would wait for her breathing to deepen, carefully slip out of bed, walk across the hallway to his own room and finally sleep like a civilized man who definitely wasnt in love with his lawyer. But then sometime in the middle of the night when he had tried to untangle himself from her arms, her sleepy hand had immediately gripped his wrist tightly. And that was it. Finished. Over. 

He had laid back down beside her without a second thought. Her back against his chest. His arm wrapped securely around her waist beneath the blanket. His face buried partly in her hair while her payals softly chimed every time she shifted in her sleep. Rehman Dakait had slept peacefully for the first time in what felt like centuries. 

Now in the morning sunlight he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her sleeping form tangled around him. One of her legs had hooked over his thigh somewhere during the night, the navy silk slip slightly twisted from sleep while her hair spread across his arm and pillow like a storm. Her face looked impossibly peaceful. Soft. Entirely unaware of the effect she had on him. And then his eyes drifted lower. 

The diamonds and emeralds of the payals glinted beneath the sunlight spilling through the balcony doors. Tiny flashes of green and silver danced across the bedsheets. His payals. On her. Rehman stared at them so long that he almost forgot how to breathe again. A stupid grin slowly spread across his face before he shut his eyes briefly at himself. Oh god. He was gone. Completely gone for this woman. 

Very slowly he untangled himself from her hold and slipped out of bed carefully so he wouldn’t wake her. She stirred slightly at the loss of warmth, brows furrowing in sleep, but thankfully didn’t wake. Rehman quickly washed up and only pulled on a pair of fresh black pyjama trousers afterward, not even bothering with a kurta. His hair remained damp from water when he stepped back into her room. And stopped. She was still asleep. Perfect. Now came part two of her birthday. 

Over the next twenty minutes Rehman personally surrounded her with gifts like a man possessed. Wrapped boxes of every shape and size slowly began covering the bed around her sleeping form until she looked like some spoiled princess buried beneath offerings. Bouquets rested against the headboard. Books stacked beside pillows. Velvet jewelry cases sat near her knees. When he was finally done he sat down quietly on the chair across from the bed and simply waited. And watched her. Because apparently he had become the type of man who could sit silently for twenty minutes just admiring the way a woman slept. 

Rehanna shifted slightly beneath the blankets with a soft whine, her face scrunching adorably as one hand flopped outward. Her fingers bumped into one of the wrapped boxes beside her. She blinked awake immediately. For a few moments she simply sat there confused, hair messy, eyes barely open, staring around herself at the mountain of gifts like her brain had stopped functioning. Then her eyes found him sitting there watching her with a smile. Rehman stood and slowly walked toward the bed. “Subha khair meri jaan… janam din ki lakh lakh mubarkan phirse.” His voice was warm enough to melt steel. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently before motioning toward the gifts around her. 

The transformation in her face happened instantly. Her entire face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. And Rehman felt his soul leave his body at the sight. “Rehman…” she breathed in disbelief her voice still husky from sleep. Then suddenly she was attacking the wrapping paper with absolutely zero dignity. Rehman barked out a laugh as she practically tore through the packages like a wild animal. The first gift was a stack of novels she had once mentioned offhandedly weeks ago while complaining that Pakistani bookstores never stocked proper editions. Her eyes widened immediately. “Aapko yaad tha?” 

“Sab yaad rehta hai mujhe,” he answered smugly. She immediately leaned over and kissed his cheek. One kiss. The next package revealed more books. Another kiss. Then another. Five kisses total from books alone. Rehman began feeling extremely intelligent about his investment strategy. Then came the bouquets. Her face softened instantly when she saw the fresh rajnigandha flowers amongst them. The fragrance immediately filled the room. She brought them close to her face and inhaled deeply before looking at him with something unbearably fond in her eyes. Two more kisses landed on his cheeks. 

Then the jewelry boxes. Beautiful carved wooden vanity cases with intricate mirror work detailing she had once admired at a stall weeks ago. Another two kisses. By this point Rehman was fully considering buying her an entire shopping mall if it guaranteed this reaction every morning. Then came the final box. Rehanna opened it curiously before immediately freezing. 

Then slowly she pulled out the dark green lace lingerie set between two fingers while staring at him in absolute disbelief. It was a babydoll set, in dark green, which just happened to be Rehmans favorite color. Rehman suddenly became very interested in running a hand through his damp hair. A faint blush climbed up his neck despite himself which only made her stare harder because Rehman Dakait did not blush. Ever. She slowly looked up at him with mock exasperation all over her face. 

He shrugged casually becoming smug again “Kya ispe bhi jo laye voh pehnaye ka usool hai kya?” She laughed instantly, shaking her head before giving him a look so coy it nearly killed him where he sat. “Nahi… ispe jo laye… voh hataye rules apply hote hain.” Rehman choked on absolutely nothing. She grinned victoriously before hopping off the bed with her gifts still scattered everywhere and heading toward the attached bathroom to freshen up. 

Chan. Chan. Chan. The payals sang softly with every step. Rehman shut his eyes briefly in pure satisfaction listening to the sound fade into the bathroom. Worth every rupee. Every single one. 

—---------------------

Eventually he headed downstairs still shirtless and only in his pyjama trousers, entirely too relaxed with life for a man who usually terrified entire districts. The maids greeted him as he descended the stairs and he greeted them back absentmindedly while grabbing a cigarette halfway down. But as he walked away the maids stared at his back in horror. Not because he was shirtless. Because his back looked like he had survived a tiger attack. Before any of them could call after him he had already disappeared into the dining room where the rest of the gang sat in their usual chaos. 

Faizal munched loudly on his chocolate chocos while intensely studying the back of the cereal box like a scientist trying to uncover state secrets. Uzair smoked while arguing with Hamza about dock shipments. Siyahi and Donga debated the Pakistan versus Bangladesh cricket match. Normal. Familiar. Safe. Rehman grabbed an apple from the fruit basket while the boys greeted him. “Good morning abbu!” thena chorus of“Subha khair bhai.” He nodded lazily and bit into the apple before walking toward the cigarette shelf nearby. He lit one calmly and finally took a long drag. Peace. Finally. 

Then Faizal’s voice shattered it. “Abbu yeh aapke peeth pe kya hai?” Rehman blinked. “Peeth par?” he questioned. Faizal responded “Haan, bhot saari kharoche ho rakhi hai.” The entire table immediately turned to look at him. And suddenly the slight stinging on his back from this morning made horrible, horrible sense. Flashbacks from last night hit him all at once. Rehanna’s nails dragging across his back hard enough to make him hiss into her neck. Ya Allah. 

“Kya hua bhai? Konsi kharoche?” Uzair frowned while standing up immediately. Hamza followed right behind him. “Arre kuch nahi—” Rehman started but too late. Both men were already staring at his back. They collectively tsked in concern. Faizal meanwhile pointed at one particular mark with great scientific curiosity. “Abbu yeh kharoch ek dil ke shape me kyun hai?” 

Rehman completely blanked. A heart. She had scratched a heart into his back. Something deeply smug awakened inside his soul at this information despite the current disaster unfolding around him. Still. Damage control first. “Aree kuch nahi hua,” Rehman said immediately while taking another drag of his cigarette. “Raat ko machhar bohot the… neend me maine khujaliya hoga.” Silence. Everyone stared at him. Faizal looked at the others. The others looked at each other. Clearly some sort of council meeting was happening mentally about whether to accept this atrocious excuse. Then suddenly. 

Chan. Chan. Chan. Rehman knew instantly. The entire room turned toward the doorway as Rehanna walked in mid-yawn wearing a simple cotton suit, her hair falling over one shoulder while her payals filled the dining room with delicate music. “Good morning guys,” she yawned softly before ruffling Faizal’s hair affectionately. The boys immediately crowded around her with greetings instead. Rehman nearly sighed in relief. Then Rehanna suddenly narrowed her eyes at Hamza before smacking him hard across the arm. “Aaj kya din hai Hamza?” she asked sweetly. “Uh… Saturday didi?” Her face turned deeply sarcastic. “Kisi ka birthday hai kya aaj?” Collective horror dawned across the table. Uzair smacked his forehead violently. Siyahi cursed under his breath. Donga looked ashamed. Hamza looked ready to dig his own grave. 

“Happy birthday Rehanna Aunty mereko yaad tha! Yeh dekho maine ye card banaya!” Faizal announced proudly while shoving a handmade card toward her. Rehanna immediately melted. “Aww thank you Faizal mere bachhe,” she smiled warmly while hugging him tightly and kissing his forehead. “Sirf tumhe aur aapke abbu ko yaad tha.” Something unexpectedly soft hit Rehman square in the chest hearing her call Faizal mere bachhe. Rehanna turned toward the others deadpan. “Kuch seekhliya karo bacche se.” 

Then she sat down calmly while her payals chimed beneath the table. Rehman thought the crisis had passed. Then Faizal opened his mouth again. “Aunty abbu ke kamar pe dekho kitne ajeeb nishan hai!” Rehman shut his eyes briefly. Rehanna hummed in fake curiosity despite being the criminal responsible. “Zara dikhaiye to sahi dakait sahab?” He glared at her while turning slightly anyway. She gently traced the heart shaped scratch with one finger. The skin was still sensitive enough to make his jaw tighten slightly. Then she turned innocently toward Faizal. “Beta kal raat macchar the kaafi. Meri bhi taango pe kaatliya tha maine khuja khuja ke lal kardi apni taange.” And somehow when she said it, the excuse suddenly sounded perfectly reasonable. 

The entire table nodded immediately. Rehman stared at them in disbelief while taking another drag from his cigarette. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

—----------------------------—---------- 

Same day @ 5 pm 

Baloch haveli, Lyari, Pakistan

The entire day Rehanna had stayed buried inside her office as though the chaos of the night before had never happened. Files had once again taken over her desk in uneven piles, law books lay open with sticky notes jutting out from the pages, half finished cups of chai sat forgotten beside ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts, and yet somehow none of it stopped the softness that had settled over her today.

Every now and then Rehman would appear in the doorway under the excuse of discussing work only for it to dissolve into stolen touches and lingering kisses that left both of them dazed before one of them forced themselves back into reality. Once he had cornered her near the bookshelf, one hand braced beside her head while the other slid around her waist, kissing her slow and deep until her knees nearly buckled under her. 

Another time she had walked into his office to hand him a file and he had pulled her into his lap without a word, burying his face into her neck while her payals chimed softly against his shin. Every stolen second only made the air between them heavier. 

But by afternoon Rehanna’s curiosity had officially become unbearable. The first time she tried to leave her office and wander toward the living room Hamza had appeared out of nowhere like some overgrown security system personally sent by the devil himself. He blocked the hallway with his arms crossed and an expression so serious that she almost laughed. “Nahi jaa sakti aap.” “Kyun?” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Bas nahi jaa sakti.”

Before she could argue further Hamza simply bent, hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of rice and began carrying her back while she kicked furiously. “HAMZA PUT ME DOWN!” “Nahi.” “Tumhari himmat kaise hui mujhe uthake lejaane ki!” “Didi instructions hai.” She pounded on hsi shoulder “Instructions? Kisne diye instructions?” Hamza remained tragically loyal through the pain. “Confidential.” She continued yelling insults at him the entire way back to her office while the payals on her ankles jingled violently with every furious kick. Hamza deposited her back into her chair like she weighed absolutely nothing and walked away before she could throw a stapler at his head.

 The second attempt had gone no better. This time she had barely made it down the hallway before Uzair caught her wrist gently but firmly. “Kahan jaa rahi hain aap?” she sighed “Aap sab pagal ho kya? Living room me kya chal raha hai?” Uzair immediately looked away like a child hiding evidence of a crime. “Udhar jaana mana hai.” She huffed angrily now “Mana kisne kiya?” He simply smiled nervously and began escorting her back by the hand while she glared murderously at the back of his head. Now she was genuinely suspicious. 

Something was happening. And if there was one thing Rehanna Randhawa could not tolerate, it was being left out of information. So this time she decided she would outsmart all of them. She slipped quietly through the side door leading into the garden, her cotton suit brushing softly against the tall grass as she hurried through the shadows. The evening breeze carried the scent of wet earth and mogra flowers blooming somewhere along the stone walls of the haveli. She stopped near the garden steps suddenly realizing the problem. The payals. Her beautiful very lovely, and very expensive, cursed payals. With an irritated sigh she crouched and unclasped them carefully, slipping them into her pocket. Silence immediately settled around her feet. Perfect. “Ab dekhte hai kaun rokta hai,” she muttered smugly under her breath.

Barefoot now, she slipped around the haveli silently, climbed the front steps and pushed through the entrance. The hallway ahead was empty. No guards. No Hamza. No Uzair. Amateurs. A victorious grin spread across her face as she reached for the living room doorknob. Suddenly a strong hand wrapped around her waist. Before she could even gasp she was spun around and pressed against the wall, another hand clamping over her mouth. 

Her eyes widened violently before they met Rehman’s amused face inches from her own. His shoulders shook with silent laughter at the look of betrayal on her face. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, one eyebrow raised smugly. Caught. Rehanna sighed dramatically. Rehman however immediately frowned, his gaze dropping downward. “Aapki payal kahan hai?” She dug into her pocket and handed them to him with visible annoyance. He looked from the payals back to her face waiting for an explanation. She huffed. “Agar mai pehen ke aati toh phir insabko pata chal jaata ki mai aa rahi hun… alag musibat bandh di aapne mere pairo pe. Ab sabko pata chal jata hai ki mai kahan hun!” Rehman actually chuckled at that, the low sound rumbling out of his chest warmly.

He held the payals out for her again but she pushed them back into his chest stubbornly before muttering shyly under her breath, “Jo laye… wohi pehnaye… aapko ye usool pata hai.” His eyebrow lifted higher. “Achha ji?” She nodded with complete seriousness. The smugness immediately melted into something darker in his eyes. Without another word he sank down onto one knee before her. The movement stole her breath despite herself. The great Rehman Baloch, feared across Lyari, kneeling quietly at her feet in the middle of a hallway like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

He lifted one of her bare feet carefully, resting it against his thigh. His large warm hand slid around her ankle as he fastened the payal back into place. The diamonds and emeralds glimmered softly beneath the golden hallway lights while the tiny bells chimed delicately with every movement of his fingers. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against the inside of her ankle and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from reacting. Then he repeated it with the other foot, his concentration so genuine it almost made her chest ache. 

Once done he rose back to his full height and took her hand. “Ab chaliye.” “But mujhe dekhna hai andar kya hai.” “Nahi.” She resorted to beging in a very specific tone of voice. The one that she new rehman always melted at “Rehman….meri jaan pleaseeee…” Rehman almost caved “Bilkul nahi.” She groaned dramatically while he simply smiled and led her away despite her protests. 

By the time evening rolled around she had given up trying to investigate. She sat once again at her desk pretending to work while internally plotting revenge against every man in this house. Then the office door opened. Hamza entered holding up a blindfold. Rehanna stared at it flatly before sighing in surrender. “Tum log na… sachme pagal ho.” Hamza grinned victoriously. “Aankh band karo didi.” She rolled her eyes but allowed him to tie the blindfold over her eyes anyway. Darkness settled instantly around her as Hamza gently took her hand and began guiding her through the haveli. 

She could hear muffled whispers. Movement. Furniture shifting. Someone hissed at somebody else to shut up. Then finally Hamza stopped her. He positioned her carefully somewhere open before the blindfold loosened and slipped away. “Surprise!” The entire room exploded into noise. Rehanna gasped. The living room had been transformed completely. Streamers hung from the ceilings in loops of gold and deep blue, balloons crowded the corners of the room, flowers overflowed from every surface, and in the center rested a large table covered with cake, snacks, mithai, drinks, candles and enough decorations to rival an actual wedding function. 

And then there were the people. Yalina. Faizal. Uzair. Donga. Siyahi. Hamza. Rehman. The gang members. The servants. All smiling at her. Rehanna actually squealed. Yalina immediately ran toward her and the two women collided into a fierce hug, laughing breathlessly into each other’s shoulders while jumping slightly in excitement. “Oh my godddddd” Rehanna yelled happily “Happy birthday!” Yalina laughed. 

Hamza then physically pulled Rehanna away from Yalina by the shoulders. Yalina 5’3 glared at her boyfriend Hamza who stood 6’0 swallowed under her steely gaze now barely an inch tall “ Sorry baby heheh ... .Didi pehle decoration dekho.” She turned slowly, taking it all in with shining eyes. Her throat tightened unexpectedly. Nobody had forgotten after all. 

She hugged Hamza tightly first despite how much he annoyed her. Then Uzair who laughed hugging her back. Then Donga who patted her back like a giant bear. Then came Siyahi. Poor poor Siyahi. The second she wrapped her arms around him the man visibly short circuited. His entire body froze. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a full three seconds before shakily settling against her back while his face turned such a violent shade of red that Uzair collapsed onto the sofa laughing. Hamza doubled over. Donga nearly choked. Siyahi looked moments away from cardiac arrest. When she pulled away he looked genuinely devastated that the hug had ended. 

Then Faizal launched himself at her. “Happy birthday aunty!” She laughed brightly and spun him around in her arms before kissing his forehead repeatedly. The sight made something warm and painfully soft settle deep inside Rehman’s chest as he watched them. His son. Her. Together. Like they had always belonged in the same frame. Then her eyes found his across the room. She did not hug him. But the look she gave him held something far heavier than a hug ever could. A thank you. A softness. Something dangerously close to love. Rehman felt it land directly in his chest. Then she turned away before he could react. 

Yalina however suddenly grabbed Rehanna’s ankle with a gasp. Rehanna nearly fell over, her arms windmilling to balance herself “YA ALLAH yeh payal!” squealed Yalina. Immediately everyone looked. The diamonds and emeralds glittered brilliantly beneath the warm party lights. “They’re beautiful!” Yalina breathed, touching them carefully. “Kisne diye apko didi?” For only a split second Rehanna’s eyes flicked toward Rehman. He gave her the smallest smile before looking away casually as though he had nothing to do with it. Yalina completely missed the interaction. But Rehanna didn’t. 

A slow grin spread across her face. “Koi hai meri zindagi me…” she said casually while examining the payal absentmindedly. “Bohot bohot special sa koi hai.” Her voice carried just enough for Rehman to hear. He pretended not to react. Faizal however looked deeply pleased with himself from the corner, his payal strategy had worked. He was the mastermind. Now he had a way to blackmail his father the boy grinned to himself. Faizal could always say that thanks to his idea of the payal Rehanna was happy…and that foresight and planing from a 10 year old deserved a geared cycle right?....right?

Hamza on the other hand immediately went rigid. “Kaun hai ye didi?” Rehman raised an eyebrow silently at Hamza’s sudden interrogation. Rehanna smirked wickedly. “Nahi bata rahi mai….mera private mamla hai.. Mai nahi bata rahi… jo karna hai karle.” Hamza stepped closer immediately, fully entering overprotective brother mode. “Didi ya toh aap bata do warna mai khud pata lagalunga…………. aur uski hadi pasli ek kardunga.” Siyahi nodded seriously in agreement from behind him. 

Rehman nearly laughed out loud. The idea very funny to him, the idea of Hamza finding out that her special someone was indeed Rehman. Rehanna pinched Hamza’s cheek mockingly. “Kar ke dikha beta.” she kissed at him. Then she walked away stuffing namkeen into her mouth with the most infuriatingly smug expression imaginable while Hamza stood there fuming. Yalina immediately grabbed Hamza’s arm and dragged him away before he could launch a full investigation on her birthday. Across the room Rehman caught Rehanna’s eye again. He raised an eyebrow slowly, his expression saying one very clear thing. You are trouble my love. She only shrugged innocently and winked at him as she bit into a kaju katli. 

The party stretched into the night. There was dancing. Music blasting through the haveli halls. Hamza losing a dance battle to Yalina so badly that everyone screamed laughing. Donga attempting bhangra with terrifying seriousness, making the floor shake. Siyahi hovering around Rehanna like a haunted Victorian ghost. Faizal shoving cake into people’s faces. And through all of it Rehman watched her. Always. Every laugh. Every smile. Every ring of her payals. 

By ten o’clock exhaustion finally settled over the haveli. One by one guests began leaving. Goodnights echoed through the halls. Hugs were exchanged. The decorations drooped slightly from the humidity and chaos of the evening.

Eventually Rehanna climbed the stairs toward her new room alone. She expected Rehman to follow immediately. But he didn’t. Strange. Infact she couldn't even see him anymore. Very strange. She hummed softly to herself as she entered her room and shut the door behind her. The room was dark. She reached for the light switch. Click. The lights flooded on. And there he was. 

Rehman sat casually at the edge of her bed waiting for her, a slow grin spreading across his face the second he saw her surprise. Rehanna smiled helplessly. He opened his arms and she walked straight into them. The second she reached him he pulled her firmly into his lap and kissed her hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs. She laughed softly into the kiss as his hands slid around her waist, holding her against him like he had been waiting all evening to finally touch her properly again. Like he had had enough of sharing her. 

God, he loved this arrangement. His father may be a bastard. His enemies may have threatened her. But now she lived here. Across the hall from him. Inside his home. Inside his orbit. He has to give credit wher it is due he supposes. Rehman kissed her deeper as he leaned backward onto the bed, bringing her down with him while her laughter dissolved into the warmth between them. Somewhere outside the haveli lights still glowed softly against the Lyari night sky while inside her payals rang once as they disappeared into the sheets together. 

Then her payals didnt stop ringing for hours.

Hope this makes up for me being gone, my babies xoxoxo

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Chapter 9. Tuchhi baatein aur Bandook meri laila 

3 weeks summary post chapter 8

Baloch Haveli, Lyari, Pakistan

3 weeks ago Rehanna Randhawa had moved into the baloch haveli for good. Bringing Rehanna to the haveli permanently was the second best decision of Rehman's life. The first being when he hired her as his lawyer that fateful day months ago. 

The entire gang had settled into a lovely routine. Everyone would wake up and head to the dining room for breakfast together. She would always be preceded with a series of musical chan, chan, chans. Thanks to Rehman’s birthday gift of the obscenely expensive 10 lakh rupee diamond, emerald, and platinum gold payals he bought her. Announcing that she was about to arrive somewhere. 

She would fluff Faizals' hair and sit beside him eating cereal together as they talked about Faizal’s classroom drama. “AUNTY APKO PATA HAI PHIR KYA HUA!” Faizal would begin excitedly and Rehanna would lean in eagerly to listen about stupid 5th grade drama. Uzair would smoke broodlily pretending like he didn't care about the drama but he did care deep down. Leaning in subconsciously to listen better. Rehman would sit at the head of the table watching this domestic mess in front of him. He couldn't help his smile as he ate his breakfast. Rehanna and Faizal together always warm his heart. 

Mid breakfast Hamza, Siyahi, and Donga would show up and plop around the table and join breakfast. Rehanna would finish her food and brush her hip against Rehman's arm deliberately as she walked to her office. Chan. Chan. Chan. The sound followed her as she walked to her office to begin the day. Everyone would meet again for dinner and the same routine would follow.

In between meals they would hang around the house. Sometimes she would share a cigarette with Uzair as they chatted about nothing in particular. Sometimes she would slip out of the haveli with Donga to eat paani puri. Sometimes she would walk in the garden with Siyahi. Sometimes she would play jenga with Faizal on purpose and tickle the boy so he would lose. Sometimes they all would play cards in the living room, arguing over the most stupid and arbitrary rules just to defend their win. 

It was a good life. Rehanna loved every second of it. Rehman loved every second of her being by him. This was the part of the routine that was for public eyes. The real change that both of them loved was the proximity. Every night they both said their proper goodbyes to each other. The public and decent ones.

Then 20 minutes later one of them would get out of bed and cross the hallway between their rooms. Then they would spend the night in the room together. Most of the time it was Rehman who slept in Rehanna's bed. Why? The answer is simple. Rehanna is lazy as hell. That's because after a long and tiring night in Rehman's bed she simply didn't have the energy to wake up at the ass crack of dawn and wobble to her own room before the maids begin their cleaning. 

So it was often Rehman who made the journey. He would start in his room, head to hers and then stay the night. And while she slept at the crack of dawn, he would carefully untangle himself and cross back into his room and pretend he slept in his bed the entire night. But it wasn't always just about sex with the two of them.

Oftentimes they spent the night talking. Talking about dreams, aspirations, their pasts, their fears. Sometimes they would simply hold each other in the moonlight as they talked until one of them dozed off mid conversation. Other times they would talk in the after glow of their passion, watching the sun come up together. Their bodies tired and bruised from the night but their minds fresh from the glow of stimulating conversation. No point in sleeping now they would think as the both of them got dressed and snuck off to the roof of the haveli silently. 

As the sun rose over lyari they would walk hand in hand on the massive roof of the haveli. She would lean against him for support of her tired body. Rehanna would point along the empty space and nudge Rehman “Aapko pata hai ki yahan pe aap iss khali jagah me phool laga sakte hain?....shayad bougunvelilia. Safed rang ka ya halka saafrani. Sabjaga phel jaega haveli badi sundar lagegi” she would hum. Rehman would squeeze her hand lightly planting a kiss on her forehead “Agar aap chahein to phir yahan lag jaenge meri jaan, ab to aap bhi yahan rehti hain ye aapki bhi haveli hui ek tarha se” She would smile as she leaned against the hard muscle of his arm. Leaning on him for support as they walked slowly on the rooftop. Her payal softly rang along with the melody of the morning birds that lived in the trees of the Haveli garden. 

But sometimes she liked being a brat, sometimes for fun, sometimes for work. Sometimes she had to check in with R&AW on a secure phone line, and that certainly can't be done when the target is in her bed. Rehman would knock on her door at 12 pm. The usual. She would walk up to the door and just stick her head out of it. “Ji kaun?” she would ask sweetly. First Rehman would blink. Then he would play along, leaning against her doorframe “Ji apka ashiq” She would hum and nod in mock seriousness “Achha….dekhiye baat aisi hai ki humne koi ashiq ka order nahi diya hai” she pretended like he was a parcel she didn’t order. He would raise an eyebrow “Achha?” she would nod “ji goodnight” and shut the door on his face. 

Rehman couldn't believe it. He stood there flabbergasted. Rehanna covered her mouth as she died of laughter behind her door. Rehman knocks again and she opens the door and he begins with a warning “Jaan-” his eyebrow raising at her. She smiles cheekily “Aaj mujhe koi ashiq ki zaroorat nai hai aap ja sakte ho, goodnight sweet dreams” then she shuts the door again. Rehman definitely could not believe this. His mouth opens and then closes. A frown pulls on his face that is much too close to a pout. He returns to his room. Lays in his bed, stares at the ceiling and doesn't sleep a wink. 

The entire next day Rehman would stay very grumpy. By lunch even Rehanna would notice he was grumpy. When Rehanna would approach him for a kiss he wouldn't give it, he would turn away not speaking to her. “AREEEE itna gussa?” she would ask in shock as she moved to look at his face again. In reality she was trying not to laugh at the grumpy grown man of a gangster in front of her. She would laugh and throw her hands around his neck and plant kisses all over his face until his frown turned upside down. Then under her breath she would mutter “Bilkul ladki ke tarah ruth the hain” which Rehman would hear, now dangerously ticked off just the right amount. “Kya bola aapne jaan?” he would hum sweetly as he trapped her wrists so she couldn't run from him now. “Aree mera wo matlab nahi tha Rehman…..heheh” she would try to backtrack. While the look on Rehman's face grew smugger and smugger as he stepped closer and closer to her. 

Sometimes they would actually do some work. Rehanna would sit in her office humming to her music as she wrote a legal petition to release some weapons from a port just south of Karachi. Suddenly Sultan, one of the long coated German shepherds, would pad into her office. The massive all black dog would come up to her and nudge her shin demanding pets. She would smile and scratch behind the dog's ears. As Sultan moves his head, a piece of paper brushes against her leg. 

She would lean down to find a piece of paper and a pink rose attached to Sultan's collar. “Ye kya hai?” she would ask herself and grab the paper, opening it to find a note. A love note. From the man in the office across from hers. A stupid smile would grace her face as she read the note from Rehman which read……..

“Aaj aap kaafi sundar lag rahi hain iss gulabi suit main ya qalbi…..hamara tawajjo ab iss kaam me nahi hai. Aapke rang ke kwuab me mai dooba hun, aapke husn ke yaadon se juda hua hun. Ye gulabi rang aapke gulabi hoton se milta hai jab aap ke hont hamare hoton se milte hain. Ye gulabi rang aapke gaalon se milte hai jab aap humari tareef se sharmati hain……ye gulabi rang aap pe bohot jachta hai” 

She would blush as she read the note, smelling the rose that came with it. God Rehman always had a way with words. And she loved men who knew how to use their words. She set the rose on her table and wrote a response back to him. She can't believe she is writing poetry like a lovesick maiden for him……… 

“Aapki rangoon ki pehchan ki mai daat deti hun Dakait sahab…lekin aapko pata hai ki hum aapke bhi rang pehchante hain? Aap hume kaafi pasand aaten hain jab aap kaala pehnte hain. Aapko dekh ke aisa lagta hai ki raat khud ba khud ayi hai hume bahon me bharne ke liye. Iss rat ka hum har din intezar kate hain.” 

She ended the note with a kiss. Her dusty rose lipstick was imprinted on the paper. In between her lips she wrote her initials, RR. She folded the note and tucked it in Sultan's collar. She would then reach into her drawer for a treat to bribe the messenger back to its sender. The messenger would then happily pad across the hall to whom he was supposed to deliver the message to. Sultan made 10 trips between the offices that day. Then finally fed up, Sultan dragged Rehman by the arm to Rehanna. He gently gripped his master's hand in his teeth and pulled the man across the hall. As if telling the two of them ‘Mai thak gaya hun apni ashiqi in person karlo ab’ before he would turn tail and pad out of the room. Rehanna would tilt her head with a coy smile at the man leaning against her doorway. Soon she would find herself in his arms while she continued her work for the rest of the afternoon. 

—------------------

A very specific scene that happened some day within these 3 weeks 

Rakshabandhan @ 11 am 

Baloch Haveli, Lyari, Pakistan

Author's note: Let's assume that Rakhi this specific year happened in late August after her birthday…..is this because I forgot? Yes it is….. but we roll with it. 

One morning the haveli woke slowly beneath the heavy golden sunlight of Lyari. Ceiling fans hummed lazily overhead while somewhere downstairs Salma Bi yelled at one of the younger maids for nearly burning the parathas again. The scent of chai, fried eggs, butter, cigarettes, and sandalwood furniture drifted warmly through the long corridors of the house. It felt more lived in, more loud, more human. And right on schedule came the familiar sound. 

Chan. Chan. Chan. The entire dining room looked up instinctively before she even appeared. Rehanna stepped into the room wearing a brand new navy blue cotton suit embroidered lightly with silver thread along the sleeves and dupatta border. The color made her skin glow warmly beneath the morning light pouring through the haveli windows. Her hair fell loose down her back in soft waves and the emeralds in her payals flashed every time she walked. The entire room paused for exactly half a second before returning to normal as though they were all pretending they had not collectively stopped breathing at her entrance again. 

Faizal grinned immediately. “Aunty aaj aap bohot sundar lag rahi ho” “Thank you mere bachhe,” she smiled while ruffling his hair affectionately before stealing one of the fruits directly off his plate. “Tum bhi aaj kaafi handsome lag rahe ho.” “Obviously,” Faizal said smugly while adjusting his collar. Uzair snorted into his tea. Hamza meanwhile looked exhausted already and the day had barely started. 

Rehanna picked up her coffee cup casually before glancing around the table. “Sab log jaldi breakfast khatam karo aur garden me aao.” She ended by taking a sip “Garden?” Donga frowned suspiciously. “Kyun?” Uzair asked immediately. “Bas aao,” she said simply, the dangerous kind of calm that meant she was planning something.

Then she turned her head slightly toward Rehman who sat at the head of the table in his usual black kurta, cigarette balanced lazily between his fingers while he watched her with that same unbearable softness he reserved only for her. “Aap bhi aiye,” she told him quietly. His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long before he nodded once. “Ji.” And then she walked away again. Chan. Chan. Chan. The payals echoed through the hallway until she disappeared completely.

 Hamza suddenly groaned loudly and dropped his face directly into his hands. Rehman raised an eyebrow slowly. “Kya hua?” Hamza lifted his head looking personally victimized by life itself. “Mai kasam se bol raha hun bhai… jisne bhi didi ko yeh payal diye hain na…” he pointed furiously toward the hallway she disappeared into, “mai usko dhoondh ke rahunga aur woh payal uske gale me itna andar tak ghusaunga ki woh hafte bhar heere hagta rahega.” Siyahi nodded immediately in deadly agreement while chewing toast. “Bilkul.” Rehman took a slow drag from his cigarette to hide the smile threatening his mouth. “Achha?” Hamza continued ranting dramatically. “Har jagah chan chan chan chan. Pata hi nahi chalta banda aa raha hai ya poori baraat.” 

Rehman exhaled smoke lazily. “Mujhe batana jab woh aadmi mil jaye.” Hamza looked at him immediately. “Kyun?” Rehman reached for his tea calmly. “Mai bhi madat karunga...Usse heere hagwayenge” Hamza nodded seriously. “Haan bhai bilkul” 

Twenty minutes later the garden behind the haveli glowed softly beneath the late morning sun. The fountains burbled quietly while bougainvillea climbed across the old stone walls in bursts of white and light saffron. The boys stood lined up in utter confusion while Rehanna organized things with alarming seriousness. A silver thali rested on the small garden table beside her, decorated with tiny diyas, sweets, kumkum, rice, and several colorful rakhis laid neatly beside each other. Uzair blinked slowly. “Yeh kya hai?” Rehanna looked up immediately and was scandalized. “Tum logo ko Rakhi nahi pata?” 

Donga shook his head. Hamza hid the fact that he knew what the festival was. Rehanna sighed dramatically, already disappointed in Pakistan as a nation more than she was already as a secret agent sent to dismantle its terrorist networks. “Rakshabandhan. Rakhi. Indian festival.” She picked up one of the threads carefully between her fingers. “Iss din Behene apne Bhaiyon ko rakhi baandhti hain. Protection ka promise hota hai. Family ka. Aur phir bhai apni beheno ko gifts dete hain.” 

At the word gifts Faizal gasped. “OH…to ye business deal hai?” The boy was smart when he wanted to be. “Bilkul,” she nodded solemnly. Uzair immediately seemed far more interested now. Siyahi however went pale. Actually pale. Because realization slowly dawned across his face like the coming of death itself. Oh no. No no no no no. 

Rehanna motioned toward Hamza first. “Aao.” Hamza sat down cross legged before her. The morning breeze flickered the flame softly as she performed a small aarti in front of him, muttering blessings beneath her breath before placing a small tilak on his forehead. Hamza looked genuinely touched for approximately three seconds before she shoved a laddoo into his mouth hard enough to nearly choke him. “Khush raho,” she said smugly while tying the rakhi around his wrist. 

Hamza stared down at it for a moment, strangely emotional. Then slowly he reached into his wallet. And pulled out a crumpled ten rupee note. The entire garden went silent. Rehanna stared at the note. Then stared at him. 

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Hamza.” her voice deadly “Aree gesture important hota hai didi—AAH!” She smacked him so hard across the arm that he nearly fell sideways off the chair. “Sorry sorry sorry!” he yelped immediately, fumbling through his wallet in panic before shoving several more notes into her hands. “Yeh lo! Yeh lo!” She counted the money calmly. “Theek hai.” she motioned for him to get lost. “Extortion hai yeh,” Hamza muttered under his breath while rubbing his arm. “Chup.” 

Next came Uzair. He sat down grinning already while Rehanna repeated the ritual, the diya flame glowing warmly against his amused face as she tied the rakhi carefully around his wrist. The second she finished, Uzair immediately turned his head toward Rehman. “Bhai.” Rehman blinked once, already irritated. “Kya?” 

“Agar thode paise miljate toh?....” A long silence followed. Then Rehman shut his eyes briefly like a disappointed father before reaching for his wallet. He pulled out two crisp five hundred rupee notes and shoved them toward Uzair. “Paise sambhalne ki akal kab ayegi tereko?” Uzair looked sheepish immediately as he spoke “Aajayegi Inshallah.” Rehman muttered under his breath as he shut his wallet “Qayamat ke din.” Uzair accepted the money anyway before obediently handing it to Rehanna who accepted it with immense dignity. 

Meanwhile Siyahi had begun slowly backing away. Very slowly. Like a frightened deer escaping a forest fire. “Nahi,” he muttered under his breath. “Bilkul nahi.” Nobody noticed him yet. He took another step backward. “Bhai?” Donga frowned. Siyahi immediately shook his head violently. “Mereko inka bhaiya nahi saiyaan banna hai… mai nikal raha hun yahan se bhenchod.” he whispered to Donga. Then the man turned around and disappeared into the haveli at almost full speed. Uzair burst into hysterical laughter immediately. Hamza doubled over. Even Donga looked deeply entertained. Rehanna blinked in confusion. “Yeh bhaag kyun gaya?” 

“Pata nahi,” Uzair wheezed while trying not to die laughing. “Bohot ajeeb aadmi hai,” Hamza nodded seriously. Then came Donga. The massive man sat before her carefully like he might accidentally break the furniture beneath him while Rehanna repeated the ritual again, tying the rakhi around his thick wrist while he watched quietly with surprising softness in his eyes. When she finished Donga immediately handed her another five hundred rupees respectfully. “Shukriya,” she smiled warmly. 

Then suddenly she looked around again. “Siyahi kahan gaya? Abhi tak aya nahi” Rehanna was genuinely confused “Pata nahi,” Uzair answered instantly while biting the inside of his cheek. “Haan pata nahi,” Hamza agreed with suspicious innocence. All three men looked seconds away from exploding with laughter again. Uzair’s eyes lit up immediately, “Vakeel sahiba aap ye Siyahi ki rakhi Bhai ko bandh do na?”

“Haan!” Hamza nodded enthusiastically. “Bilkul bhai ko bhi bandho na didi?” Both Rehman and Rehanna froze. “Uh—” she began “Woh—” Rehman shot Uzair with such a murderous glare that Uzair physically leaned backward. Yet he didn't understand why he was being glared at, Uzair thought he was being helpful. He didn't know he was being a dumbass. Rehanna meanwhile reached for the final rakhi too quickly. It slipped from her fingers. Fell directly beneath her foot. Crunch. Everyone stared downward. The tiny decorative beads had snapped clean in half beneath her heel. A long silence followed. 

Then Rehanna looked down at the destroyed rakhi before slowly lifting her eyes toward the others with unbearable fake sadness. “Oops.” Hamza blinked. “Well…” she sighed dramatically. “Ab kya hi kar sakte hain. Lagta hai mai Dakait Sahab ko apna bhai nahi bana sakti ab.”

Rehman immediately turned his face away to hide the smile clawing at his mouth. Thank god for her quick wit. “Haan,” he coughed lightly. “Bohot afsos ki baat hai.” He cleared his throat “Qismat hi kharab hai,” Rehanna said solemnly. And just like that everyone collectively shrugged and began wandering back toward the haveli again. 

Rehman lingered behind her deliberately as they walked through the garden pathways together beneath the warm sunlight filtering through the trees. The others moved ahead laughing loudly while the fountains continued humming quietly nearby. Then suddenly he leaned closer beside her. So close his breath brushed against her ear. “Achha kiya ki apne bachaliya…” Her steps slowed slightly. “Kyunki mai apke sath bhai wali harkatein to nahi karta.” Rehanna smacked his chest instantly. Making him grin shamelessly. 

“Harkatein to apki boss wali bhi nahi hain,” she muttered with a little glare. “Shauhar wali zyada hain.” And then she walked ahead. Chan. Chan. Chan. Like she didn't even realize the words that left her mouth. Rehman stopped dead in the middle of the garden. The word hit him straight in the chest. Shauhar. Husband. For a full five seconds the feared gangster of Lyari simply stood there short circuited beneath the morning sunlight while somewhere ahead her payals continued ringing softly through the haveli halls. Then slowly, helplessly, a stupid grin spread across his face.

—-----------------------------

Post 3 weeks summary, Present day @ 3pm

Aalam Juice Center, Bada Bazar, Lyari, Pakistan 

The afternoon sun hung lazily above Lyari, turning the crowded streets of Bada Bazar gold beneath the heat haze rising off the pavement. The market was alive in the way only old Pakistani bazaars could be alive. Rickshaws pushed recklessly through narrow lanes while fruit vendors yelled over each other about mango prices. Somewhere nearby an old Bollywood song crackled through a broken speaker. The scent of frying samosas, dust, diesel, perfume oils, paan, grilled kebabs, and humid summer air tangled together heavily beneath the sky. And directly in the middle of all that chaos walked Rehanna and Yalina carrying entirely too many shopping bags.

“Yalina I swear to god agar tumne ek aur jhumka set liya na toh mai tumhe wahi dukaan pe chor ke chali jaungi,” Rehanna groaned dramatically while balancing three glossy bags against her hip. Yalina looked deeply offended immediately. “Excuse me? Woh emerald wale jhumke life changing the.” Rehanna stared at her flatly. “Woh bilkul bhi life changing nahi the aur woh asli emerald thodi the?” Yalina tsked at her “ Obviously asli nahi the lekin life changing to the!” 

“Nahi the.” Rehanna answered flatly “The!” Then both women burst into laughter loud enough that a few nearby shopkeepers smiled automatically watching them pass. The soft chan. Chan. Chan of Rehanna’s payals threaded through the market noise with every step she took. Sunlight flashed against the emeralds wrapped around her ankles whenever her dupatta shifted enough to reveal them beneath her white trousers. More than once people turned their heads at the sound alone before their eyes landed on her. 

Yalina meanwhile continued walking beside her while sipping from a bottle of now warm Limca. “Waise didi,” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “aapko shopping karna itna pasand hai phir bhi aap sirf books hi khareedti ho. Bohot ajeeb ho.” Rehanna gasped softly in mock offense. “Maine kapde bhi liye hain.” Yalina looks at her flatly “Haan do cotton suits.” Rehanna clicks her tongue “Comfort is important.” 

“Fashion bhi important hota hai.” Yalina said seriously. “Tumhare liye.” responded Rehanna “Aur aapke liye bhi hona chahiye.” Rehanna simply rolled her eyes while stealing the bottle from Yalina’s hand and taking a sip herself. The two of them turned another corner before suddenly Yalina’s eyes lit up. “AALAM JUICE CENTER!” she announced like she had discovered religion itself. Rehanna looked up immediately and smiled despite herself. 

The old green signboard sat crookedly above the tiny shopfront exactly where it had always been, faded slightly from years of heat and rain. Plastic chairs crowded around steel tables while boys rushed around carrying tall glasses of juice and falooda between customers. The familiar scent of rose syrup, crushed ice, milk, sugar, and fruit drifted warmly through the air. “Bas. Hum yahin ruk rahe hain,” Yalina declared firmly. The second they stepped inside, Aalam looked up from behind the counter. The elderly man’s entire face immediately softened. 

“Arre meri betiyan agayi!” he exclaimed warmly. Rehanna laughed instantly. “Assalamualaikum chacha.” “Walekumassalam walekumassalam,” he hurried around the counter, already fussing over them. “Kitni garmi me ghoom rahi ho dono. Pagal ladkiyan.” 

“Aapke falooda ke liye jaan bhi de sakte hain,” Rehanna answered dramatically while dropping into one of the plastic chairs. Aalam snorted loudly. “Bakwas band karo.” But he was smiling too fondly to sound convincing. Within minutes two massive bowls of falooda ice cream arrived in front of them overflowing with vermicelli, rose syrup, basil seeds, kulfi pieces, crushed nuts, and bright scoops of melting ice cream beneath the afternoon heat. Yalina took one bite and immediately shut her eyes in bliss. “Ya Allah.” 

“Dramebaaz,” Rehanna muttered while taking her own bite. Then she paused. “Okay…. Yeh actually bohot acha hai.” she hummed around her bite. “Acha?” Aalam looked personally insulted from nearby. “Sirf acha?” Rehanna raised both hands immediately. “Theek hai theek hai life changing hai.” 

“Bilkul,” Yalina nodded seriously through another bite. The three of them chatted lazily while the market buzzed outside. Aalam leaned against the counter while wiping a steel glass with a cloth, already fully invested in gossip. Unfortunately for Yalina, that gossip quickly became about Hamza. “Toh Hamza kab a raha hai rishta leke?” Aalam asked casually. Yalina nearly inhaled falooda into her lungs. “CHACHA!” she choked while Rehanna burst into laughter beside her. “Aree humne kya bola?” Aalam grinned shamelessly. “Pura Lyari jaanta hai woh larka tumhare peeche pagal hai.” Yalina’s face turned violently red. “Pagal nahi hai!” 

“Haan bilkul nahi,” Rehanna nodded with fake seriousness. “Bas har dus minute me phone karta hai. Har jagah pick drop karta hai. Aur agar koi aadmi Yalina ko do second zyada dekhle toh usko aankhon se goli maar deta hai….” she rattles off the top of her head “DIDIII!” Yalina whined while covering her face. Aalam laughed loudly. “Woh toh bachpan se hi aisa hai. Possessive. Aur stupid,” Rehanna hummed. Yalina narrowed her eyes suddenly. “Acha?” she said slowly. “Mujhe mat chhediye.” Rehanna continued eating her falooda peacefully. Huge mistake.

Because the next second Yalina leaned downward suddenly and grabbed Rehanna’s ankle beneath the table. “OYE-” she yelled as her foot went in the air. The payal glittered instantly beneath the afternoon sunlight. “YE DEKHO AALAM CHACHA!” Yalina announced triumphantly like she had uncovered state secrets. “Didi ke kisi ashiq ne unko 10 lakh ki payal di hai! Aur ye bata bhi nahi rahi kisne di?!!” Aalam’s eyes widened so hard he nearly dropped the glass in his hand. “DAS LAKH?!” Rehanna calmly took another bite of falooda. “Rehanna beti,” Aalam leaned forward immediately. “Kaun hai woh?” 

“Haan didi,” Yalina joined instantly. “Kaun hai? Kya karta hai? Kahan mila? Naam kya hai?” Rehanna hummed thoughtfully while stirring the melting ice cream with her spoon. “Achha aadmi hai kabhi kabhi.” she mused “BAS KABHI KABHI?” Yalina nearly screamed. “Kaafi caring hai,” Rehanna added lazily. “Naam?” Aalam pressed. “Protective bhi hai,” she continued calmly. “NAAM?” Yalina repeated louder. “Thoda kya bohot zyada possessive hai.” 

“DIDI!” Yalina screeched “Kaafi had se zyada handsome bhi hai,” Rehanna admitted after another thoughtful bite. Yalina threw her hands into the air violently. “YA ALLAH.” Aalam folded his arms now fully invested. “Achha yeh batao. Karta kya hai?” Rehanna’s mouth twitched slightly around her spoon. “Business.” The follow up came immediately “Kaisa business?” Rehanna hummed “Import export type.” 

“Import export?” Yalina repeated suspiciously. “Kya import export?” Rehanna shrugged elegantly. “Cheezein.” How could Rehanna say guns, alcohol, and drugs? The game would be over immediately. “Kaunsi cheezein?” Yalina narrowed her eyes “Yalina tum CID kyun ban rahi ho?” Rehanna asked calmly. “KYUNKI AAP BATA NAHI RAHI!” 

Aalam pointed accusingly toward her. “Yeh lawyer answer mat do mere sath.” Rehanna grinned directly into her falooda. “Acha personality batao,” Yalina demanded stubbornly. Rehanna leaned back slightly in her chair now, sunlight catching softly against the diamonds at her ankles. And for the first time something gentler entered her expression. Softer. Warmer. “Hmm,” she murmured quietly. “Mere liye bohot ache hain.” Yalina narrowed her eyes instantly at the tone. “Kaafi khayal rakhte hain mera,” Rehanna continued absentmindedly while tracing the edge of her spoon. “Mai thak jaun toh bina bole coffee bhej dete hain. Agar mujhe neend na aaye toh puri raat baith ke baatein karte hain. Mujhe phool pasand aaye toh agle din poora garden bhar dete hain.” Aalam and Yalina exchanged looks immediately. “Aur?” Aalam pushed carefully now. 

Rehanna smiled faintly to herself. “Mere bina sote nahi hai properly.” Yalina’s mouth fell open. “OH MY GOD.” This was a massive revelation to her. “Aur jab gussa hote hai toh bilkul bacchon ki tarah ruth te hain,” Rehanna muttered fondly before taking another bite casually. “DIDI YOU ARE IN LOVE.” Rehanna almost choked on her falooda. “Aree chup kar Yalina.” Aalam grinned knowingly now. “Lagta hai mamla serious hai.” Rehanna simply hid her smile behind another spoonful of melting ice cream while both of them continued interrogating her uselessly for the next several minutes. 

Then suddenly Yalina’s phone rang. She glanced down at the screen before groaning softly. “Hamza.” Yalina may have groaned but a smile pulled at her lips. “Aur kaun,” Rehanna muttered immediately. Yalina pointed threateningly at her. “Mai abhi ayi interrogation baaki hai.” She stood quickly, already answering the call while walking toward the front of the shop. “Haan bolo baby… haan zinda hun mai…” 

Aalam meanwhile sighed dramatically and pushed himself upright. “Tum dono baitho. Mai zara counter sambhal ke ata hun warna yeh customers mujhe barbaad kardenge.” he huffed walking away. “Theek hai chacha,” Rehanna smiled softly. And then suddenly she was alone. Well….. Alone enough. The market continued roaring outside beneath the afternoon sunlight while the ceiling fan above her spun lazily through the heat. Somewhere nearby glasses clinked together. A child laughed loudly outside. A scooter sped past blasting old music. Rehanna sat quietly on the bench beside the shop window with her half melted falooda in her hands. For the first time all day there was silence around her. 

She leaned back slightly against the chair and looked downward absentmindedly at her payals beneath the sunlight spilling through the open shopfront. Tiny diamonds and emeralds glimmered softly around her ankles. Chan. Chan. The bells gave the faintest little sound when she shifted her foot. A stupid smile slowly spread across her face before she could stop it. God. That man had ruined her completely. And maybe she loved it more than her mission. 

—------------------------

Rehanna sat sideways against the old plastic bench, one leg crossed over the other as she slowly ate her falooda now half melted beneath the heat. The silver spoon clinked softly against the steel bowl between bites while her payals glimmered beneath the golden sunlight pooling across the tiled floor. Somewhere outside a vegetable vendor screamed about fresh tomatoes. A child cried because his mother refused to buy him balloons. Rickshaws honked angrily at each other in the cramped street while old men argued over cricket scores nearby. Life continued loudly around her. 

And through all of it Rehanna hummed softly beneath her breath without realizing it. “Manne ghana kasoota lage se… manne ghana kasoota lage se…” A stupid little smile kept tugging at the corner of her mouth every time she thought about Rehman. About the way he had looked at her this morning before she left the haveli. About the warmth of his hand against the small of her back. About the fact that if he knew she was sitting here humming love songs about him like some village maiden he would become insufferably smug for the next six business days. She scooped another spoonful of falooda into her mouth. 

Then suddenly— Gunshots exploded through the market. POP. POP. POP. The entire bazaar froze for one split second before chaos erupted violently. People screamed immediately. Vendors abandoned carts. Mothers grabbed children. Shopkeepers ducked behind counters while fruit rolled across the street beneath stampeding feet. Rickshaws swerved recklessly trying to escape as several black jeeps tore into the market road like a pack of wolves. More gunshots ripped into the air. “BHAGO!” “GOLI CHAL GAYI!” “YA ALLAH!” Dust rose violently into the sunlight as the market emptied within seconds. Inside the shop Aalam’s entire face changed. Gone was the warm old juice seller. For half a second something sharp and trained flashed across his eyes instead, the R&AW agent. 

His gaze snapped immediately toward Rehanna. But before he could move toward her she gave the smallest signal behind her back with one hand. Tiny, quick, and invisible unless you were trained to notice it. Protect Yalina. Not me. Aalam saw it instantly. And hated it instantly. Because by then he had already seen who climbed out of the jeeps. Babu Dakait. Arshad Pappu. Lulli Dakait. Aalam’s jaw tightened hard enough to crack teeth. But reluctantly he stepped backward instead, immediately moving toward the front side of the shop where Yalina still stood distracted on her phone near the road. Rehanna meanwhile did not move. Not even slightly. 

She simply sat there beneath the humming ceiling fan eating her falooda while the market collapsed around her. “Manne ghana kasoota lage se…” The song continued softly beneath her breath. The jeep doors slammed shut one by one. Babu Dakait climbed out first with a swagger that looked ridiculous on him. Like a stray dog trying to imitate a tiger. Gold chains hung against his chest while his pistol rested openly in his hand. Beside him Arshad Pappu adjusted his shirt sleeves arrogantly while Lulli bit casually into a bright red apple, laughing loudly with both of them as though this entire thing was entertainment. The three men walked toward the shop slowly. 

Rehanna sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose before finally lifting her eyes toward them. “Bhenchod,” she muttered irritably. “Aramse falooda bhi nahi khane dete haramiyo.” Then she crossed her arms against her chest and leaned back against the bench looking profoundly unimpressed. Inside though— Inside her blood had already begun boiling. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to break their necks. Especially Babu’s. Slowly. Violently. Publicly. But none of it reached her face. 

Babu climbed the steps toward the shop first, sneering down at her. “Zyada Rehman ki salwar me garmi mat le vakeel.” Rehanna stared at him for exactly two seconds. Then slowly stood up. “Kyun jal rahe ho?” she asked calmly before making an exaggerated disgusted face. “Chee yaar tum apne bete ki salwar ke bare me kyun soch rahe ho bhadwe?” Behind Babu, Arshad burst into shocked laughter while Lulli nearly choked on his apple. Babu however looked moments away from exploding. “ABE OH—” Rehanna clicked her tongue dismissively before looking past him directly toward Arshad who was already stepping forward menacingly. 

“Bade ghode pe sawar hai tu?” he asked darkly. Rehanna looked him up and down once. Utterly unimpressed. Then she sighed again and pointed downward toward herself, toward her crotch, with a small giggle. “Aja tujhe ghode pe ghumadun?” Silence. Absolute silence. Even the remaining market sounds seemed to stop for one second. Then Arshad’s face twisted with rage so violently it almost looked painful. Lulli barked out a loud “OHHHHH” while laughing hysterically. 

Babu stepped closer now, fury simmering beneath every word. “Mera plan toh tujhe tere birthday pe uthwane ka tha…” he snarled. “Lekin tu bach gayi.” he hummed “Achha?” Rehanna asked flatly. “Kasar ab poori karne aye ho kya?” Her eyes swept lazily across the men behind them. “Lekin bhadwe tu toh aaj koi baccha bhi nahi laya mujhe rokne ke liye.” And that was when it happened. Too fast. Too sudden. Behind her Lulli had already soaked a dirty handkerchief in chloroform while she argued with Babu. 

The second she sensed movement it was too late. A rough arm locked around her shoulders while the cloth slammed hard over her nose and mouth. Rehanna jerked violently. “Bhenchod—!” She drove her elbow backward instantly, hard enough to crack someone’s ribs. Lulli cursed loudly as the apple dropped from his hand and rolled across the floor. Rehanna clawed at the arm around her throat viciously while trying to twist free. But the chemical smell hit hard. Sharp. Sweet. Nauseating. Her vision lurched violently sideways.

 “Pakdo saali ko!” Arshad barked. Rehanna tried fighting harder. Her nails ripped across Lulli’s arm deep enough to draw blood while she kicked another man directly in the knee hard enough to make him collapse screaming. But the world had already started blurring. The sunlight smeared strangely across the market. Voices echoed too far away. Her limbs suddenly felt unbearably heavy. “Ye toh cheating hui chutiye…” she slurred furiously as darkness dragged at her vision. Then everything vanished. Her body went limp instantly. 

Two gang members grabbed her unconscious form roughly beneath the arms and dragged her outside while the payals on her ankles rang violently against the pavement. Chan. Chan. Chan. The sound echoed horribly through the emptied market. 

Yalina watched from behind stacked crates near the alley entrance, frozen completely in terror while Aalam’s hand remained clamped tightly over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face. She wanted to scream. Wanted to run toward Rehanna. She wanted to grab her. But Aalam held her back with terrifying force. Because one wrong movement right now would get them both killed too. 

Outside the gang members threw Rehanna brutally into the trunk of the jeep like discarded cargo. Her arm hung briefly over the edge before one of them shoved it fully inside and slammed the trunk shut. BANG. 

Babu turned back toward the market grinning wildly before firing another shot into the air. “JAAKE REHMAN DAKAIT KO BOLDO USKI VAKEEL HUMARE PAAS HAI!” he roared across the terrified bazaar. His grin widened further. “JO KARNA HAI KARLE!” The jeeps exploded forward seconds later, tires screeching against the road as they vanished through the Lyari streets. 

Silence crashed down afterward. Heavy. Horrible. Yalina ripped away from Aalam immediately the second the jeeps disappeared. “DIDI—” Her voice broke apart violently into sobs. Aalam grabbed both her shoulders hard. “SUNO.” His voice was suddenly cold. Sharp. Professional. “Rona baad me. Haveli chalo. Abhi.” Yalina nodded frantically through tears. And the two of them ran. The drive back to Baloch Haveli felt endless.

—-------------------------

Same day @ 4 pm

Baloch Haveli, Lyari, Pakistan 

The haveli had been quiet before the disaster arrived. Afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through the tall carved windows of the living room while cigarette smoke curled slowly toward the ceiling fans overhead. Uzair sat on one sofa cleaning his pistol absentmindedly while Donga argued with Hamza over shipment timing across the dining table. 

Siyahi lounged nearby half paying attention to the cricket match playing softly on television. Somewhere upstairs a maid vacuumed one of the corridors. Somewhere in the kitchen Salma Bi yelled at someone for putting too much mirchi in the curry again. Ordinary. Safe. Then suddenly the haveli doors burst open so hard they slammed against the walls. 

“REHMAN BHAI!” Every single man in the room snapped their heads toward the entrance. Yalina stumbled inside gasping for breath so violently she nearly collapsed right there on the marble floor. Her dupatta had half fallen off her shoulder, tears streamed uncontrollably down her face, and panic radiated from her so strongly it made the entire room stand instantly. 

“REHMAN BHAI!” Fear hit all of them immediately. Cold. Sharp. Wrong. Because Rehanna was not beside her. Heavy footsteps thundered overhead. Rehman appeared upstairs almost instantly before descending the staircase fast enough to make the wooden railing shake beneath his grip. The second he reached Yalina he grabbed her firmly by the arms to steady her before she could fall completely.

 “Kya hua?” His voice came out sharp. Controlled. But something dangerous had already entered it. Because he was looking behind her too. Looking for another figure. Listening for another sound. Chan. Chan. Chan. Nothing. The absence of those payals suddenly felt deafening. Yalina grabbed onto his kurta with trembling hands. “Bhai…” her voice cracked violently. “Didi ko utha liya! DIDI KO UTHALIYA…” Rehman’s stomach dropped. “Kisne.” One word. Not a question. A threat. Yalina broke completely then. Sobs tore out of her chest as she tried speaking through her panic. “Babu Dakait… Arshad… Lulli…” The room changed instantly. 

Hamza swore viciously beneath his breath and shoved his chair back hard enough for it to crash onto the floor. Uzair stood immediately. Donga’s entire expression darkened. Even Siyahi sat upright now, all traces of laziness gone from his face. Rehman however did not move. Not yet. His grip around Yalina’s arms slowly loosened because suddenly he became terrifyingly aware of his own strength. Rage had begun boiling through him so violently that he could feel his hands shaking. And Yalina was crying hard enough already. He forced himself to let her go gently before he accidentally frightened her further. “Saans lo,” he ordered quietly. “Aur sab batao.” 

Yalina nodded shakily while Hamza immediately reached her side, pulling her carefully against him as she cried into his chest. Then between broken breaths she told them everything. The market. The jeeps. The gunshots. The crowd running. Rehanna sitting there still eating falooda like nothing in the world could scare her. Every word twisted deeper into Rehman’s chest like a knife. This morning. Ya Allah. This morning. He saw it all again so clearly it physically hurt. Rehanna standing near the haveli entrance adjusting the sleeve of her suit while Yalina impatiently called for her outside. The sunlight catching against her emerald payals. Her turning toward him at the last second with that soft smile reserved only for him. “Hum der se ayenge shayad.” And him leaning down to kiss her forehead absentmindedly before letting her go. 

Like a fucking idiot. He should have gone with her. He should have never let her out of his sight after what happened on her birthday. His chest suddenly felt too tight to breathe properly. Because now all he could think about was her surrounded by those animals. Rehanna fighting them alone. Because Rehman knew that she would rather die than beg. Rehanna terrified. Rehanna hurt. Something molten and monstrous flooded through his veins. Yalina kept speaking through tears. “Phir Lulli ne… unke muh pe kuch rakha…Cloroform…” 

Chloroform. Rehman looked away sharply. Because for one horrifying second he genuinely thought he might kill someone inside this room from the sheer force of rage boiling inside him. Slowly he walked toward the dining table nearby where a crystal decanter of water rested peacefully beneath the afternoon sunlight. The entire gang watched him carefully now. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Rehman picked up the decanter. And smashed it against the wall with such horrifying force that glass exploded across the entire room. Yalina screamed in shock and buried her face instantly into Hamza’s chest. Even Hamza himself flinched. The sound echoed through the haveli like a gunshot. 

Rehman stood there breathing heavily while water dripped slowly down the wall amongst shattered crystal. His hands flexed violently at his sides. Then finally the rage erupted fully. “LYARI BAND KARDO.” The roar shook the room. “Har gali. Har dock. Har godown. Har warehouse check hoga.” His voice thundered through the haveli while servants froze in terror outside the room. “Mujhe har aadmi sadak pe chahiye ABHI.” Uzair was already pulling out his phone. Hamza gently moved Yalina aside and grabbed weapons from the cabinet nearby. Donga loaded rifles immediately. Siyahi’s face had gone frighteningly empty. “Jo banda un madarchodon ko panah dega na…” Rehman snarled while grabbing an assault rifle from the table. “Mai uska pura khandan zinda gaad dunga.” The haveli exploded into motion. Men ran through hallways. Guns clicked loaded. Vehicles started outside. Orders were screamed through phones. It felt less like a home now and more like war beginning. 

But Rehman barely noticed any of it. Because every thought in his head led back to her. Rehanna unconscious. Rehanna waking up alone somewhere filthy surrounded by monsters. Rehanna fighting them anyway because she would rather die than beg. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Then suddenly he turned back toward Yalina again. The restraint in his face looked painful now. Thin. Fragile. Barely hanging together. But even with murder burning through his veins he still lowered his voice slightly when speaking to her. Gentleman till the end. “Jab woh aye…” he asked quietly. “Tum log kya kar rahe the?” Yalina wiped at her face shakily. “Hum bas… baat kar rahe the…” Rehman stared at her silently. “Didi mujhe Hamza ke bare me chida rahi thi.…” Yalina whispered brokenly. “Phir maine unki payal dikhayi Aalam chacha ko…” Rehman’s chest tightened violently. “Hum unse pooch rahe the…” Yalina sniffled. “Woh aadmi kaun hai jisne unko itni mehengi payal di…” 

Something shattered inside him quietly. Because she had been talking about him. Smiling about him. Laughing. Sitting in sunlight eating ice cream while dodging questions about the man she loved. Or so he hoped anyways. And then they took her. A horrible silence fell over Rehman’s face. Uzair looked at him once and immediately looked away again. Because suddenly Rehman did not look angry anymore. He looked lethal. Absolutely lethal. Rehman picked up his gun slowly. Checked the magazine once. Click. Then he spoke so quietly it terrified the room far more than shouting would have. “Gaadi nikalo.” He looked toward the haveli gates where armed men were already gathering outside. “Aaj Lyari me qatal hoga.”

—-----------------------------------

Same day @ 6 pm

Babu Dakait’s final remaining hideout, Lyari, Pakistan 

Darkness sat heavy over her mind like wet velvet. Thick. Suffocating. Endless. Somewhere far away voices echoed strangely through the fog of chloroform while her body floated weightlessly between unconsciousness and memory. Then slowly the darkness began shaping itself into another room. Another mission. Another country. Turkey. And that's when she knew she was dreaming.

In the dream or rather the memory, the safehouse had smelled like mildew, blood, damp concrete, and stale cigarettes. She remembered the way the rusty ceiling fan had creaked overhead in uneven circles while she sat tied to a chair with zip ties cutting into her wrists. Across from her sat Himmat Singh, her great friend and colleague from R&AW, equally restrained and equally furious. Not scared. Never scared. Just irritated. Deeply irritated. Like kidnapping was less of a life threatening event and more of an administrative inconvenience. 

“Himmat maa kasam agar tumne woh coordinates encrypt kiye hote toh then we would not be in this situation,” she had snapped at him while trying to shift her tied hands behind her back. Himmat looked at her like she personally offended his ancestors. “OH SO YOU ARE BLAMING ME??” he hissed.

“YES YOU BASTARD! YOU HAD ONE FUCKING JOB!” she hissed back immediately. The kidnappers standing nearby holding assault rifles exchanged deeply confused looks. One of them slowly lowered his gun. Himmat scoffed loudly at her. “IM SORRY I WAS TOO BUSY TRYING NOT TO DIE.”

 “Thats a skill issue.” she shot back instantly. “YOU DROPPED THE HARD DRIVE!” “BECAUSE SOMEONE SHOT AT ME VERA” That was her alias for the mission. Vera Vaibhav “AND SOMEHOW THAT IS MY PROBLEM?” she yelled back. One of the kidnappers rubbed his forehead tiredly. Another whispered something in Turkish that roughly translated to Are these two mentally ill? Meanwhile Himmat leaned forward in his chair glaring at her. “You are impossible yaar.”

 “No,” she snapped immediately. “YOU are impossible.” Himmat countered.“You literally got distracted by kebabs during surveillance.” She rolled her eyes at him “THEY LOOKED GOOD.” Himmat narrowed his eyes “WE WERE BEING CHASED!” She shrugged, “And yet I was multitasking.” The kidnappers eventually separated them into opposite corners of the warehouse. Which somehow made things worse because now they whisper fought across the room like divorced parents sharing custody. 

She hissed again “THIS IS STILL YOUR FAULT!”  Himmat groaned “OH MY GOD SHUT UP!” She snapped at him“NO.” Himmat glared daggers at her “YOU ARE THE MOST ANNOYING WOMAN ALIVE.” She grinned at him “And yet you miss me when I’m gone.” Himmat looked scandalized “NEVER.” Three hours later the kidnappers had finally untied them out of pure exhaustion. One of them physically pointed toward the exit and yelled in broken English. “GET OUT. BOTH OF YOU. IMPOSSIBLE PEOPLE.” Vera (Rehanna) and Himmat walked out of the warehouse side by side into the cold Istanbul night. Then immediately high fived each other. 

“We handled that well,” Himmat nodded proudly. She smacked him hard across the arm. “Im still mad at you by the way. It was your fault.” Himmat stared dead ahead into the abyss. “You are fucking impossible yaar.” The memory blurred apart slowly after that. His laughter dissolved into static. The darkness returned. Her heart ached for him. Then pain arrived. 

A dull throbbing behind her eyes. Her mouth tasted bitter from chloroform. Her shoulders ached viciously. Rehanna’s eyes fluttered open slowly to darkness broken only by one hanging industrial bulb swinging faintly overhead. Warehouse. Dingy. Rusted. Damp. The air smelled like mold, cheap liquor, sweat, and seawater drifting in faintly from the Lyari docks nearby. 

Somewhere water dripped rhythmically into a metal bucket. Rats scratched inside the walls. Her hands had been tied tightly behind a thick concrete support pillar with rough rope that burned against her wrists every time she shifted. 

A few metres away Babu Dakait, Lulli, and Arshad sat around plastic crates playing cards while empty liquor bottles rolled around near their feet. Their guns rested carelessly nearby. Arshad laughed loudly at something filthy while Lulli scratched his stomach openly. Babu leaned back smoking a cigarette like he was some king sitting on a throne instead of a sewer rat hiding in a warehouse. 

Rehanna said nothing at first. She simply watched. Counted exits. One main shutter. One side door. Possibly unlocked. Six visible men. Maybe more outside. Two pistols. Three rifles. One knife tucked inside Arshad’s waistband. Lulli was drunk already. Babu is overconfident. The rope is old. Cheap fibers. Weak at the knot. Good. She flexed her wrists slowly against the restraint while lowering her gaze so they would not notice. Pain shot through her arms but the rope shifted slightly. Useful. Then after several silent minutes she groaned dramatically and lifted her head. “Are yaar kitna ghatiya chloroform use kiya hai be…” Her voice echoed lazily through the warehouse. All three men looked up immediately. “Kuch dhanka to leke aate. Mere standard ke hisabse.”

 Lulli barked out a laugh instantly. “Dekho dekho uth gayi.” Babu smirked slowly before standing up with his cards still in one hand. “Himmat to dekho iski,” Arshad muttered while rising too. The three men approached her together. Babu crouched slightly before her with a mocking smile. “Bohot bahadur banne ka natak karti hai tu.” Rehanna groaned again while trying to sit upright properly against the pillar, her body still aching from the drug. Her soul still ached at the chloroform induced memory. So she took the opportunity to pull one of himmat’s classic maneuvers in order to miss him less. Then she blinked at Babu flatly. “Tera naam kya hai?” For one second complete silence fell. Arshad frowned. Lulli blinked. Babu himself looked genuinely confused. Then slowly he laughed. “Itni jaldi bhool gayi?” 

Rehanna clicked her tongue irritably. “Haaaan gandu.” Babu leaned closer toward her level, trying to sound threatening. “Yaad diladu?” His grin widened unpleasantly. “Kaise bhulne dunga mai?” Rehanna stared at him for exactly one second before responding completely deadpan. “Abe bol na bhadwe… tu bhenchod Emraan Hashmi hai ki tera naam yaad rakhun?” Lulli burst into laughter instantly. Even Arshad covered his mouth briefly. “Allah ka shukr guzar ban ki mereko atleast Bhadwa Dakait yaad hai.” Her voice remained calm. Cutting. “Tu ek jhaant ke baal ke barabar ke bhi khayal ke layak nahi hai.” Babu’s smile vanished completely. 

“Babu Dakait hai mera naam,” he growled finally. Like the name itself should inspire fear. Rehanna stared at him blankly. “Ghatiya naam hai.” Babu physically looked offended. Then casually she turned her head toward Lulli. “Tera naam kya hai?” Lulli smirked proudly. “Lulli.” Rehanna groaned so loudly it echoed through the warehouse. “Aye hayee…” She shut her eyes briefly in pain. “Galti karli tujhse pooch ke…” Then she pointed lazily toward Babu with her chin. “Babu se sirf ek hi ghatiya naam hai.” She stared directly at him. “Bhenchod apne bacche ka naam Lulli kaun rakhta hai?”

“OYE SUN KAMINI—” Lulli snapped furiously. “Kya oye huh? Kya oye?” Rehanna interrupted immediately. “Kuch galat kaha maine?” And then suddenly Arshad muttered under his breath, “Point to hai.” Rehanna slowly turned toward him with one eyebrow raised. “Thank you…” she nodded approvingly. “Tera naam kya hai?” 

“Arshad.”  She sighed “Chalo ek ke pass dhanka naam to hai…” she hummed thoughtfully. “Tereko pata hai Arshad ka matlab kya hai?” Arshad frowned slightly. “Sabse imandaar. Sahi raste pe chalne wala.” Rehanna stared directly into his eyes for two full seconds. “……Puure naam ki maa chod di tumne.” Then she broke into loud laughter. Real laughter. Head thrown back against the pillar. Tears almost in her eyes. She had done it. Himmat’s classic manuver of telling the person who fucked up that they have fucked up the meaning of their name. And my god it helped the ache for him in her heart.

The sound bounced off the warehouse walls so violently even the men standing guard nearby started laughing despite themselves. Arshad’s face darkened instantly. He stepped forward and slapped her across the face hard enough to bruise. Crack. Her head snapped sideways. Pain exploded across her cheek. For one dangerous second something murderous flashed through her eyes. Something cold enough to freeze blood. But then suddenly she started laughing again. Quieter this time. Sharper. Meaner. 

Arshad stepped back looking unsettled now. Because that was the problem. Fear was supposed to work here. Screaming was supposed to happen here. Begging. Crying. Pleading. But this woman tied to a pillar looked more annoyed than frightened. Eventually the men gave up trying to intimidate her and returned to their cards instead, muttering curses beneath their breath. 

Rehanna leaned back against the pillar quietly afterward while continuing to work the rope slowly against the rough edge of exposed concrete behind her wrists. Millimetre by millimetre the knot loosened. Not enough to escape yet. But enough. Half an hour crawled by slowly. Outside thunder rumbled faintly somewhere above Lyari while evening settled darker around the warehouse windows. 

Lulli had become drunker. Arshad louder. Babu meaner. And finally the rope loosened enough that her hands could slip free if she pulled hard. But she didn’t. Not yet. Instead she left them positioned carefully so it still looked like she was restrained. Then suddenly she yelled across the warehouse again. “Saale iss jhandpane se behtar to mujhe mar hi deta?” Exactly what she wanted happened. All three men looked up again irritably before walking toward her once more. 

—-------------------

Author’s note: please listen to Aankh Band by Char Diwari for this part

Raat gayi, baat gayi (Raat gayi), 

bitch bhi saali bhaag gayi (Bhaag gayi) 

Mahine baad wapas aa gayi (Waapas) line pe 

Andar gaya no crime pe 

“Kitna bolti hai tu?” Arshad snapped. “Tum log sunne layak hote toh kam bolti,” she shot back immediately. Then the threats started again. What they would do to her. How Rehman could not save her. How nobody was coming. Rehanna waved them off lazily like annoying salesmen. Then suddenly she tilted her head slightly toward Babu. “Saale ek baat bata…” she hummed. “Agar tumhara plan tha mere birthday pe merko uthane ki…” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Toh phir kahan gayab hogaye uske baad?” She grinned slightly. “Maulvi sahab se muhrat nikalwa rahe the kya?” she giggled in spite of herself. 

Fuck a contact, warrant pe kara sign, be 

Maut se nikla, ab zindagi ek sign pe 

Ab studio kam nahi ek shrine se

Arshad spat angrily toward the floor. “Saale SP Chaudhry Aslam ne mujhe pakad liya tha usi raat.” “Haan mujhko bhi,” Lulli grumbled immediately. And suddenly Rehanna understood something. A crucial piece. They didn’t know. They genuinely didn’t know. The realization hit her so hard she barked out another laugh before she could stop herself. Because these idiots actually believed they got arrested through bad luck. Through coincidence. Through police work. Not because she engineered the entire thing herself from one phone call in Rehman’s office while eating birthday cake. Oh. Oh this was hysterical.

Aankh band, kartab karta jaa 

Har dafaa bahe rakht, mera sankalp phatne ka 

Mere andar aa, khol mera tan, dekh, jad jaise phaili meri antadiyaan 

Main andar hi tha aur doondh raha khud ko main sab mein yahan, aakhir mila 

Ekaki hanera, talaashe savera Jo khud ka na hua, kaise kisi ka? 

These idiots really thought fate had intervened. They thought the police had magically stumbled upon them. They had no idea that the woman currently tied in front of them had personally orchestrated their arrests many weeks ago while sitting comfortably inside Rehman’s haveli with a coffee mug in her hand and diamond payals around her ankles. And suddenly beneath the dim warehouse light another memory surfaced. 

A week ago. The morning had been unusually grey over Karachi. Heavy clouds sat low over the city while humid air clung to the roads thickly enough to taste. Rehanna stood inside her room at Baloch Haveli fastening the buttons of a crisp white shirt beneath her black advocate’s coat. The fabric smelled faintly of starch and old paper from months spent untouched inside her wardrobe. For weeks she had handled Rehman’s legal matters quietly from the haveli itself. Paperwork. Phone calls. Petitions. Safe and distant. But today required something more personal. Today she wanted to look like a lawyer again. Not just Rehman’s lover. Not the playful woman laughing over breakfast while Faizal complained about school. Not the woman sneaking kisses on rooftops at dawn. 

Advocate Rehanna Randhawa. Sharp. Controlled. Dangerous. She adjusted the collar carefully before pinning her hair back neatly. Her black heels clicked softly across the marble floor as she walked toward the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked cold enough to cross examine god himself. Good. Exactly what she needed. Because 3 weeks earlier she had made a phone call from a burner number to an old friend at the Karachi High Court. An old prosecutor she trusted enough to gamble with carefully. The woman Rehanna spoke to happened to be close to SP Chaudhry Aslam. Very close. 

Rehanna remembered standing near the haveli balcony during that call while rain lashed against the city outside. “There’s a good chance Aslam sahab catches Babu Dakait, Arshad Pappu, and Lulli Dakait tonight,” she had said calmly while watching lightning split the sky over Lyari. “They’ll be moving through the old port roads after midnight.” Her friend had gone silent immediately. “Tumhe ye information kahan se mili?” Rehanna smiled faintly into the darkness. “Professional curiosity.” And because SP Chaudhry Aslam hated criminals almost as much as he hated losing, he had seized the opportunity instantly. The arrests happened before sunrise. 

Now weeks later, Rehanna walked directly into the Lyari Task Force office like she belonged there. She had found the top secret address by using a few R&AW resources on a personal request. The building smelled like stale chai, sweat, damp paperwork, cheap cigarettes, and old violence soaked permanently into concrete walls. Rusted ceiling fans creaked overhead while constables shuffled between desks carrying files thick enough to ruin lives. Somewhere deeper inside the station a man screamed during interrogation before the sound abruptly stopped. Nobody looked comfortable here. That was intentional. The second Rehanna stepped inside conversations dimmed slightly around her. Her black advocate’s coat commanded attention immediately. Not fear exactly. But caution.

A constable behind the front desk blinked at her. “Ji?” “ Mujhe SP Chaudhry Aslam se mulaqat karni hai regarding bail paperwork.” The constable’s expression shifted instantly at the name. “Kiski bail?” She beat around the bush “Personal matter.” The man nodded slowly before disappearing into the inner office. A few moments later heavy footsteps approached. And then SP Chaudhry Aslam emerged. 

The man looked less like a police officer and more like someone war itself had carved out of stone and nicotine. Over six feet tall. Broad shouldered. Thick forearms visible beneath the rolled sleeves of his white pathani kurta. Salt and pepper hair combed roughly backward. Matching beard trimmed short around a deeply lined face hardened by years of stress, violence, sleeplessness, and Karachi’s filth. A cigarette rested permanently between two fingers like an extra bone attached to his hand. He stopped directly in front of her. Sized her up once. Slowly. His eyes were dark. Sharp. Predatory in the way experienced men became after decades of dealing with monsters. 

Rehanna smiled politely first and extended her hand. “Assalamualaikum SP sahab.” Aslam looked at her hand briefly before taking it in a firm grip. “Walekumassalam.” His voice sounded like gravel dragged across concrete. Then immediately he said, “Rehman ko nahi pakda hai humne.” Rehanna laughed softly despite herself. “Mai jaanti hun aur main liye nahi ayi.” That earned the smallest flicker of amusement near his eyes. “Hm.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “Toh?” 

“I’m here to sign the bail papers for Babu Dakait, Arshad Pappu, and Lulli Dakait.” For the first time genuine surprise crossed Aslam’s face. Not shock. Just interest. One thick eyebrow rose slightly before he turned toward the nearby constable. “Paperwork leke aao.” the constable nodded “Ji sir.” Aslam leaned casually against the edge of the desk afterward while smoke curled around him lazily beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. Rehanna stood across from him calmly adjusting the cuff of her sleeve. “Kaise hai tumhara client?” Aslam asked eventually. 

Rehanna smiled faintly. “Kaunsa wala?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Jo poore Lyari ko personal property samajhta hai.” “Ah.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Woh.” Aslam exhaled smoke slowly. “Kaafi shareef hogaya hai aaj kal.” There was something almost disappointed in his tone. “Kaafi time hogaya usko dekhe hue.” He looked at her carefully. “Mauka hi nahi deta ab saala.” 

Rehanna folded her arms lightly. “Mera client toh hamesha se acche hai…” Then dramatically she sighed toward the ceiling. “Ye zalim zamana bas woh side nahi dekhna chahta hai.” For one long second Aslam simply stared at her. Then suddenly a low laugh escaped him despite himself. Not warm. Not soft. But real. “Hmmm,” he muttered while shaking his head slightly. “Tum mujhe samajhdar lagti ho Advocate sahiba.” There was the faintest trace of reluctant respect in his gaze now. “Phir bhi aap us aadmi ke sath ho.” Rehanna smiled calmly. “Aur aap mujhe samajhdar lagte ho SP sahab.” She tilted her head slightly. “Phir bhi iss department me ho.” That actually made him laugh properly. A rough sound. Short lived. But genuine. The constable returned moments later carrying files which he placed onto the desk. 

Rehanna opened them immediately and began signing each paper with smooth practiced strokes while Aslam watched her silently through cigarette smoke. After several moments he finally asked, “Ek baat batao.” She drew a stroke “Hm?”  Aslam looked at her “Babu aur Lulli ki bail kyun?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Arshad ka toh samajh ata hai. Lekin teeno?” Rehanna continued signing without looking up. “Personal reasons.” 

“Hm.” He studied her face carefully now. “Unko pata hai?” She hummed “Bilkul nahi.” She finally looked up then. “Aur aap bhi nahi bataoge.” Aslam snorted quietly. “Mai itna bhi sasta nahi hun.” “Good.” Silence settled briefly between them again while thunder rumbled faintly outside the station windows. Then Aslam spoke more seriously this time. “Dekho.” He tapped ash into a nearby tray. “Bail pe release ho rahe hain iska matlab ye nahi ki hum unko chhod denge.” His gaze stayed fixed on her. “Monitoring hogi.” A pause. “Aur mujhe umeed hai unke sath kuch nahi hoga.” His tone darkened slightly. “Chahe jitne bhi ghatiya aadmi ho.” 

Slowly a smile spread across Rehanna’s face. Small. Sharp. Dangerous. “SP sahab…” she said almost sweetly. “Aap mujhe kyun bata rahe ho?” She shut the file calmly. “Mai kahan marne wali hu inko?” Then her smile widened just slightly. “Lekin haan…” she hummed thoughtfully. “Gaur ki baat ye hai ki Lyari bada unsafe sheher hai…” Her eyes met his directly now. “Yahan kab kya hojaye kaun jaane?” 

For one stunned second Aslam stared at her. Then despite every instinct telling him otherwise the man barked out a laugh. Deep. Rough. Disbelieving. “Tum dono ek jaise ho,” he muttered while shaking his head slowly. Rehanna pretended innocence beautifully. “Kaun?” Aslam only smirked around his cigarette. Because both of them already knew the answer.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick "Kitne time tha tu jail mein?" (Jail mein) 

"Paise kisne diye tere bail ke?" (Bail ke) 

"Thullon ne mara kya pel ke?" (Pel ke)

 Ab chutiye kya daalega sale pe? 

The warehouse air had grown thicker now. Hotter. Heavy with cheap whiskey, sweat, rust, and the distant scent of rainwater leaking through the broken roof panels overhead. Outside somewhere thunder rolled across Lyari while the old hanging bulb above them swung lazily on its wire, throwing long distorted shadows across the concrete floor. Rehanna still sat against the pillar with her hands behind her back. Looking restrained. Looking exhausted. Looking vulnerable. Only she knew the rope had already loosened enough to slip free. 

Across from her Babu, Lulli, and Arshad stared at her now with dawning realization crawling slowly across their faces like insects beneath skin. That horrible laughter of hers still echoed faintly through the warehouse walls. Because now they understood. Not fully. But enough. Enough to become afraid. Rehanna leaned her head back against the concrete pillar and grinned at them through the bruise blooming darkly across her cheek. Then softly beneath her breath she began singing. “Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…” The rhythm bounced eerily through the warehouse. Babu frowned. “Pagal hogayi hai kya?” Rehanna’s smile widened. “Kitne time tha tu jail mein?” she sang mockingly while tilting her head at Arshad. “Jail mein…” Arshad’s expression shifted instantly. Lulli stopped laughing. “Paise kisne diye tere bail ke?” Her voice sharpened now. Cruel. Amused. “Bail ke…” Silence. Absolute silence. 

Then suddenly Rehanna burst into hysterical laughter so violently she bent forward against the ropes. “PAISE KISNE DIYE TERE BAIL KE?” she barked between laughs. The color drained from Arshad’s face first. Then Lulli’s. Babu stared at her like he was finally seeing something monstrous beneath her skin. And slowly. Slowly. The dots connected. The arrests. The sudden bail. The anonymous lawyer. The release.

“Ohhhhh…” Rehanna hummed mockingly. “Ab samajh aya?” Her eyes glittered dangerously beneath the dim light. “Tum logon ko laga police ne bas kismat se pakad liya?” She laughed again. “Bhenchod mai thi woh.” 

“THULLON NE MARA KYA PEL KE?” she sang directly toward Lulli now. Lulli’s face twisted with rage immediately. “MADARCHOD—” And that was the exact second Rehanna moved. The rope dropped from her wrists. Too fast. Far too fast. Before any of them properly registered what happened she launched herself upward from the pillar like a bullet.

Fuck nahi deta, sar pe topi, neta 

Focus on my paper, chahiye do-teen acre 

Par chahiye na kisi se koi nahi favour 

Jote bane, lage lightsaber 

Kapde pehne subeh jaise 

Power Ranger 

The first punch cracked directly into Lulli’s throat. A wet choking sound exploded from him as he stumbled backward clutching his neck. Rehanna grabbed the steel chair beside her and swung it violently across Arshad’s face before he could pull his gun properly. The impact echoed through the warehouse with a horrifying metallic crack. Arshad collapsed sideways over the card table, bottles shattering everywhere. Chaos erupted instantly. “PAKDO USKO!” Babu roared. Too late. 

Rehanna already moved again. A gang member rushed toward her from the left with a knife. She caught his wrist mid swing, twisted hard enough for bone to snap, then slammed his face directly into the concrete pillar. Blood sprayed across the floor. Another man grabbed her from behind. She drove the back of her head into his nose once. Twice. Felt cartilage collapse beneath impact. Then elbowed him hard enough in the ribs to send him crumpling. The warehouse exploded into noise. Shouting. Gunshots. Glass breaking. Heavy boots against concrete. 

And somewhere through all of it the faint violent ringing of her payals. Chan. Chan. Chan. Like war drums. Babu realized almost immediately this situation had gone catastrophically wrong. The second Rehanna picked up one of the fallen pistols and fired into another attacker’s shoulder, Babu backed away instinctively. Coward. Always a coward. He cursed viciously before bolting toward the side exit while the others fought her. Rehanna saw him disappear through the corner of her vision. “BHAG LE BHADWE!” she screamed after him while slamming another man face first into a crate. 

Inko laga ye sab easy tha 

Yahan pe tha, jab se chaltaa CD tha 

Cypher CP ka, tab se litty tha Delhi tha, bandi 

Nikita, us par dil hi tha 

Raaste naape jahaan, kaatein kaali billiyan 

Gully cricket-wicket, cigarette gin liya 

Out with that shit, in with that new is what I'm telling ya 

Nobody fuckin' with me in my area 

Single but jab karta date toh nobody fucking with my lady (Yeah) 

Then Lulli came again. Bleeding from the throat now. Furious. Wild eyed. He charged toward her roaring while swinging a broken bottle. Big mistake. Rehanna ducked beneath the swing smoothly. Her fist slammed once into his ribs. Twice. Then she grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face directly into her rising knee with enough force to knock teeth loose. Blood exploded down his chin instantly. Lulli staggered backward dazed. She didn’t let him recover. Never let men like this recover. 

Rehanna grabbed the collar of his shirt and drove him headfirst into the concrete wall hard enough that the entire warehouse echoed. Once. Twice. Three times. By the third impact his body stopped resisting. He slid dead onto the floor in a heap of blood and broken breath. One down.

Effort, essence, teacher, attendance 

Bitch, omnipresent, loyalty jo karte reckon 

Ab koi naam le toh chahiye royalty har second 

Arshad however was already back on his feet. And unlike Lulli he was smart enough to be dangerous. The bastard tackled her hard around the waist before she could properly turn. Both of them crashed violently across the floor through shattered glass and overturned liquor bottles. Pain shot through Rehanna’s shoulder as Arshad tried pinning her wrists down. “KUTTI!” he snarled directly into her face. 

Rehanna headbutted him instantly. His nose cracked. He screamed. She rolled them over violently and began hitting him. Not elegant punches. Not controlled. Brutal. Efficient.

Aankh band, kartab karta jaa 

Har dafaa bahe rakht, mera sankalp phatne ka 

Mere andar aa, khol mera tan, dekh, jad jaise phaili meri antadiyaan 

Main andar hi tha aur doondh raha khud ko main sab mein yahan, aakhir mila 

Ekaki hanera, talaashe savera Jo khud ka na hua, kaise kisi ka?

Buried rage poured into every strike. Her fist slammed into his jaw once. Twice. Again. Again. Again. Blood splattered across her knuckles. Arshad tried shielding his face but she grabbed his collar and smashed his skull against the floor hard enough to make his eyes roll briefly. “Tu…” Punch. “Mujhe…” Punch. “Uthayega?” Punch. 

Arshad gasped desperately beneath her while she pummeled him without mercy. And then suddenly— Something hot entered her side. Sharp. Deep. Wrong. For one strange second her body didn’t understand it. Rehanna froze mid punch. 

Arshad beneath her had grabbed a jagged piece of broken glass from the floor. And buried it into her side. Deep. Very deep. The sensation arrived delayed. Not pain first. Pressure. Like someone had punched molten metal through her ribs. Then heat exploded outward beneath her skin so violently it stole her breath completely. 

Her mouth opened soundlessly. That hurt. OH GOD. That hurt. A horrible wet warmth immediately spread beneath her kurta. Thick. Rapid. Sticky against her skin. Blood. A lot of blood. Arshad shoved her off him violently and scrambled backward gasping while clutching his ruined face. Rehanna stayed crouched on one knee for half a second staring downward stupidly at the dark stain blooming across her clothes. Oh. That was not good. 

The warehouse suddenly tilted strangely around her. The hanging bulb overhead blurred faintly. Her heartbeat thundered violently inside her ears now. Too loud. Too fast. Adrenaline still kept her upright but her body had already begun realizing the damage beneath the shock. Deep side wound. Possible organ hit. A dangerous amount of bleeding. Rehanna pressed one trembling hand against her side instinctively. Warm blood immediately flooded between her fingers. Thick enough to drip onto the concrete below. Drip. Drip. Drip. For one horrifying second her mind flashed somewhere completely different.

 Rehman. His hands around her waist at dawn. The smell of his cigarettes. His sleepy voice saying jaan. The warmth of his bed. And suddenly an ugly realization hit her harder than the knife itself. If she died here… He would burn Lyari to the ground.

Arshad meanwhile stumbled backward breathing heavily while staring at the amount of blood pouring through her fingers now. Even he looked shocked by it. But then Rehanna slowly lifted her eyes toward him again. And smiled. A bloody smile. Absolutely psychotic. “Bas?” she rasped softly. Arshad’s expression changed instantly. Because she still stood up. Slowly. Bleeding heavily now. But standing. And suddenly for the first time that night genuine fear entered his eyes.

She laughed as she felt her body burn in pain. The terror in his eyes was her fuel. She moved, knife hidden behind her back. Then she did it as quick as it could be. She stuck the knife into the side of his neck. That was the end of Arshad Pappu

—--------------------------

The warehouse exploded into hell. One second it was only fists, blood, broken bottles, overturned tables, and the ringing echo of violence ricocheting through rusted metal walls. The next second an entire jeep came crashing directly through the front shutter with a deafening metallic scream that shook the whole building apart. Steel bent inward violently. Sparks flew everywhere. Dust exploded into the air thick enough to choke on. The headlights cut through the warehouse darkness like twin bullets before the jeep skidded sideways across the concrete floor. “REHMAN BHAI!” someone yelled over the chaos.

 Doors flew open before the vehicle had even fully stopped moving. Hamza launched out first with a rifle already raised, firing before both feet properly hit the ground. Gunshots erupted instantly. Uzair followed from the other side reloading mid movement while Siyahi and Donga stormed in right behind them like a tidal wave of black clothes, smoke, and murder. Men shouted everywhere. Bullets slammed into crates. Glass shattered. Someone screamed. Somewhere near the back wall a body hit the ground with a sickening crack. And in the middle of all of it Yalina saw blood. A horrifying amount of blood. 

“DIDI!” Her scream ripped through the warehouse so sharply even Hamza turned his head immediately. Rehanna still had Arshad half pinned beneath her, her fist tangled in his shirt, but her body had started swaying strangely now. Unsteady. Wrong. Blood soaked through the side of her kurta so heavily it almost looked black beneath the dim warehouse lights. The jagged shard of glass still protruded from her waist grotesquely, glimmering wetly every time she moved. 

“YALINA RUKO!” Hamza shouted after her immediately. But Yalina was already running. Straight through bullets. Straight through chaos. Straight through hell itself. She stumbled over broken wood and spent shells while gunfire cracked around her ears. Someone grabbed her arm and missed. Another bullet slammed into the wall behind her spraying concrete dust into her hair. She didn’t even notice. Her entire world had narrowed down to one thing only. Rehanna. “DIDI!” she screamed again as she finally reached her. 

Rehanna blinked slowly toward the sound like she had trouble focusing properly now. Her chest rose unevenly. Her lips had gone pale beneath the blood splattered across her face. For a second she genuinely looked confused. Like she did not fully understand why Yalina looked so terrified. Then Yalina’s eyes dropped toward the glass lodged deep into her side. And Rehanna followed her gaze. Slowly. Her hand shakily touched the wound. The second her fingers pressed against it her entire hand came away red. Bright red. Fresh blood immediately poured harder through her fingers. For the first time realization crossed her face. “Oh,” she breathed faintly. The world tilted violently beneath her feet.

“REHMAN BHAI JALDI!” Yalina screamed so loudly her throat tore. And then suddenly he was there. Rehman emerged through the smoke like death itself. Rifle hanging loose in one hand. Blood splattered across his black kurta that wasn’t his own. His breathing heavy. Wild. Terrifying. Then his eyes landed on her. Everything stopped. For one split second the entire warehouse disappeared around him. No bullets. No men. No screaming. Nothing. Only her. Only the glass buried inside her body. Only the blood. Only the sight of Rehanna swaying weakly on her feet while trying so hard to stay standing. Shock hit him so violently he physically froze.

Rehanna lifted her eyes toward him slowly. And smiled. A tiny thing. Relieved. Soft. Like seeing him had finally allowed her body permission to give up. Then she collapsed. “REHANNA!” He reached her before she hit the floor. His arms caught her instantly, pulling her hard against his chest while blood soaked through his clothes within seconds. Warm. Thick. Too much. Way too much. Her head fell limply against his shoulder as consciousness finally slipped away entirely.  His voice broke apart completely. “Aankhen kholo.” Nothing. Her body stayed limp in his arms. Something inside Rehman nearly died right there. 

“GAADI NIKALO!” Hamza barked over the gunfire while grabbing Yalina’s arm. “CHALO CHALO CHALO!” Rehman didn’t even remember reaching the jeep. One moment he was inside the warehouse. The next he was in the backseat clutching Rehanna against him while Hamza drove like a man possessed through the streets of Lyari. Tires screeched around corners violently enough to nearly flip the vehicle. The horn never stopped blaring once. Not for a single second. Inside the jeep everything dissolved into panic. “Didi sun rahi ho? Didi?” Yalina’s hands shook as she pressed both palms hard against the wound trying desperately to slow the bleeding. Blood coated her fingers instantly. It kept coming anyway. “Ya Allah…” 

“Hospital?” Uzair shouted from the front seat. “Nahi!” Yalina snapped immediately. “Time nahi hai!” Hamza’s knuckles had gone white around the steering wheel. “Kya matlab hospital nahi?!” “Unko ghar le chalo!” Yalina shouted back. “Abhi!” 

Rehman barely heard any of it. His entire world sat bleeding in his lap. He held Rehanna’s face carefully between trembling hands while the jeep tore through traffic outside. Her head rolled weakly with every sharp turn. Blood stained his palms. Blood soaked into his sleeves. Blood dripped slowly down onto the jeep floor. “meri jaan…” he whispered desperately against her forehead so only she could hear “Mere sath raho… mujhe dekho…” Her eyelids fluttered weakly. For one horrifying second he thought she wasn’t breathing. Then finally a faint shaky inhale left her lips. Relief hit him so hard it almost hurt. “Bas… bas meri jaan… aankhen kholo…” he whispered again. Hamza kept looking back every few seconds in complete panic. “Yalina woh theek hai na?!” 

“DRIVE FASTER!” she screamed instead. The jeep practically flew through Lyari. Uzair had already called ahead. By the time they reached the haveli the gates were wide open and servants stood waiting in terrified panic near the entrance. The second the jeep stopped Rehman jumped out carrying Rehanna in his arms before the wheels had even fully stopped moving. “Rasta kholo!” Nobody dared hesitate. He stormed through the haveli with blood dripping behind him across polished marble floors while Yalina ran ahead already barking instructions at the maids. “Plastic sheets bed pe abhi!” “First aid box lao!” “Garam paani!” “Clean towels!” The haveli looked like war had entered it. 

Rehman barely noticed the stairs beneath his feet as he carried her upstairs. Sultan and Raja began barking frantically somewhere down the corridor the second they smelled blood. Servants flattened themselves against walls to let him pass. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed. Inside Rehanna’s room the bed had already been covered hastily with thick plastic sheets beneath clean bedsheets. Medical supplies lay scattered across every nearby surface. “Bhai yahan!” Yalina pointed quickly. 

Rehman laid her carefully onto the bed while Yalina immediately began opening supplies with shaking hands. “Side pe litao.” He obeyed instantly. Then he tried pulling away. But suddenly Rehanna’s blood covered hand caught tightly in the fabric of his kurta. Even unconscious she refused to let go. The sight nearly shattered him. “Mujhe nahi chord rahi hain,” he said hoarsely. Yalina looked at him once. Then toward the doorway where all the boys had crowded in panic. “Sab bahar niklo!” she snapped immediately. “Abhi!” Nobody argued. 

Hamza pulled Faizal away first because the boy had gone completely pale seeing the blood. Uzair shut the door behind them while Sultan and Raja immediately planted themselves outside it whining anxiously. Inside the room Yalina pointed toward the bed again. “Bhai aap unke peeche let jao aur pakadlo” Rehman climbed onto the bed beside her immediately, pulling Rehanna carefully against his chest while Yalina grabbed scissors and cut through the blood soaked fabric around the wound. 

The second the injury became visible Rehman felt all color leave his face. The glass sat buried horrifyingly deep inside the soft flesh of her waist. Blood crusted around the wound dark and thick while fresh blood still slipped slowly downward across her skin. He had seen worse. God he had caused worse. Blood never scared him. Pain never scared him. Death certainly didn’t. But this? This wound on her body? It terrified him. He wrapped his arms tighter around her instinctively like somehow he could hold her together through sheer force alone. 

“Bhai unko uthana padega,” Yalina whispered shakily. “Painkiller ka time nahi hai. Mujhe unko conscious rakhna hoga.” Rehman nodded once. Then gently tapped Rehanna’s cheek. “No response. His throat tightened painfully. “Rehanna… meri jaan aankhen kholo.” he whispered to her ear so Yalina couldn't hear. Another tap. “Please.” Her face scrunched weakly before finally her eyes fluttered open. 

Immediately a broken whimper escaped her lips. Pain hit her all at once now that adrenaline had begun crashing. Her breathing turned shallow and shaky. Tears gathered instantly in her eyes before she could stop them. Both her hands instinctively grabbed tighter onto Rehman’s kurta like she was drowning. Yalina crouched beside the bed trying not to cry herself. “Didi bohot dard hone wala hai lekin aapko jaage rakhna hai…” Her voice cracked slightly. “Please didi jage raho.” Rehanna swallowed painfully. Then whispered weakly. “Okay…” Yalina grabbed the glass. And pulled. 

The scream that tore from Rehanna’s throat ripped straight through the haveli. Outside the room every single person froze instantly. Hamza’s face drained completely of color. Faizal burst into tears and Uzair held him tight. Even Sultan and Raja began whining loudly scratching anxiously at the bedroom door.

 Inside the room Rehanna sobbed violently as the jagged glass dragged out of her flesh inch by inch. Blood followed immediately. Her body jerked hard against Rehman’s chest from the agony. “Bas meri jaan bas…” Rehman whispered desperately into her hair while holding her tighter. “Bahadur ho aap… meri jaan bas thoda sa…” His own eyes had begun burning now. 

Yalina’s hands shook so badly she almost lost grip halfway through. Then finally— THUNK. The blood coated shard landed heavily inside the metal tray beside them. Yalina immediately checked the wound frantically for remaining fragments. Then suddenly relief exploded across her face. “Allah ka lakh lakh shukr hai!” Rehman looked at her instantly. “Kya hua?!” “Bhai chot zyada gehri nahi hai aur jaan pe koi khatra nahi hai!” For the first time since the warehouse he breathed properly. The relief physically weakened him. But there was no time yet. 

Yalina grabbed disinfectant. The second it touched the wound Rehanna screamed again and buried her face into Rehman’s chest sobbing uncontrollably now. Her throat had already gone raw from screaming. Tears soaked through his kurta while he whispered constantly into her ear. Sweet things. Soft things. Things meant only for her. Things nobody else would ever hear from Rehman Dakait. 

Yalina flushed the wound carefully again and again before finally preparing sutures. By then Rehanna had begun drifting in and out of coherence. Her breathing shook violently. Pain blurred reality around the edges. She started mumbling nonsense beneath her breath. Fragments of sentences. Random words. Hallucinations born from blood loss and agony. Rehman brushed damp hair away from her forehead gently. “Bas didi… almost over…” Then Yalina began stitching.

This time Rehanna couldn’t even scream anymore. Her voice had shattered completely. So she only cried silently into him instead while every stitch pulled painfully through torn flesh. Rehman held her impossibly close the entire time like if he loosened his grip even slightly she might disappear. Toward the end her body finally gave up. Consciousness slipped away quietly beneath exhaustion and pain. Her head went limp against him again. But this time her breathing stayed steady. Thank god. Thank fucking god. 

Yalina finally tied off the last suture and bandaged the wound carefully before cleaning everything around them. The room smelled heavily of blood, alcohol, antiseptic, sweat, and fear. Bloody gauze overflowed from the trash bin nearby. Her own clothes had been ruined completely red up to her wrists. 

Yalina manic cleaned the room. Eventually everything became clean again. Controlled again. Still. “Rehman bhai…” Yalina said softly while exhausted beyond belief. “Ab aap didi ko leta do.” He shook his head immediately. “Nahi” His voice came out rough. Broken. “Jab tak ye uth na jaye mai kahi nahi jaa raha yalina.” Yalina looked at him for a long moment. Then simply nodded. She knew he was her boss, she new they had become close friends. She understood his fear. 

---------------

Quietly she gathered the remaining supplies before walking toward the door. Before leaving she looked back once more at the sight on the bed. Rehman sitting against the headboard still covered in Rehanna’s blood. Holding her unconscious body against his chest. Like prayer. Like devotion. Like fear itself. Then she stepped outside and locked the door gently behind her. The hallway exploded immediately. 

“YALINA?!” Hamza rushed toward her first before stopping dead at the sight of all the blood covering her. “Ya Allah…” Uzair stood up instantly. Faizal looked seconds away from vomiting from fear. Even Siyahi had worn a trench into the hallway floor from pacing. Yalina looked at all of them. Then finally spoke. “Didi theek hain.” Relief visibly slammed through the entire hallway at once. “Jaan pe koi khatra nahi hai…” Several people physically sagged against walls. “But khoon bohot baha hai unka.” Yalina whispered tiredly. “Lekin didi bohot mazboot hain… pura dard saha hai bina koi dawa ke…” Her eyes filled suddenly now that it was finally over. “Woh theek hojaengi.” And just like that the tension snapped. Yalina burst into tears from pure exhaustion. Hamza grabbed her instantly pulling her tightly into his chest while soothing her softly. 

Uzair dragged both hands down his face in relief before sitting heavily against the wall. Donga shut his eyes briefly thanking Allah under his breath. Even Siyahi finally exhaled after what felt like hours. Near the bedroom door Sultan and Raja still sat guard silently. Watching. Waiting. Refusing to leave her side.

She was okay. Lulli was dead. Arshad was dead. Babu Dakait had run away. But his entire gang had collapsed. Rehanna was hurt. But she was a fighter. She would survive. She would live to see many tomorrows. Babu Dakait would not.

Yawrrr bhadwa Babu Dakait phri bhag gaya guyssss. Samajh nahi aa raha ki ye chutiya hai ki bhagoda hai?