Here's the chapter. A long one, ofcourse. It's not even a surprise anymore.  9k words.

Anyway, I think this story has like 3,4 more chapters remaining and then pack up.

I have another account  thatpakistanigirl

Follow me there because after golden and atsh are done, I'll start writing on that profile since I've totally forgotten my password and everything related to it in this account. I'll obviously miss this account but eh what can I say.

Moving on, check out the chapter. I hope you guys will like it. Thanks for all the love so far ❤️

It was everywhere. She could feel it, she could smell it, she could see it. The pool of redness surrounded her and the dark liquid felt thick and sticky on her skin, on her bare skin at that.

She could taste the blood in her mouth too, it felt metallic, disgusting. She had drawn the blood to her mouth on her own, because she had been biting her lip so damn hard.

The problem was, she felt stuck. Her legs didn't allow her to move and the blood was all over her. She felt suffocated and trapped, to the point where she wanted to scream but no words would come out.

Her hands were tied behind her back but her feet, they could move. She could move, but she didn't know why she felt still.

Her mind screamed at her to move, but she just couldn't. Her heart beat fast, her eyes were closed and all she could feel was the blood and the smell and everything that she never thought she would ever see.

The only thought that existed within her head, it was the fact that she was naked.

She was naked and shamed. She had been stripped off, in front of people she didn't know and people she knew from deep within her soul. She had been forced to lose her dignity, her confidence, her courage.

She had been forced to do something that she used to enjoy with the man she loved.

Something that made her feel confident and sexy, it had made her feel pathetic and shameful, humiliating and degrading.

She didn't know what was going on, she didn't know how long she had been on the floor for but the idea of not being able to move, it didn't make her feel anything. She felt like she had already lost it all, what difference could anything else make?

And then her mind, the deep and dark scary place that it had become..it kept taking her back to the moments she had just been through.

She kept on feeling his hands all over her, the touch, the squeeze, the nails that kept scraping her most private areas. The only difference that she felt, it was the fact that the hands were bloody now. She felt the cold and sticky bloody hands, touching her everywhere without her permission, touching her as she stood there helpless and numb, touching her because they could.

She didn't know how long she was thinking like that, she didn't know how long she was feeling his hands all over her but she could hear her own screams. She could hear herself scream and cry in pain, inhuman screams and shrieks of utter pain and misery, screams of helplessness and agony that ripped out from her throat but came straight through the heart.

When he had heard the gunshot, for a moment, everything had seemed like it would never ever be over. He heard the gunshot and his heart felt like it had stopped pumping blood, he could hear his own ears ring, the sound was so loud that for a few seconds his hearing was defeaned and all he could see was her fall down on the ground with her eyes closing within seconds.

He had seen men and women being killed all his life, but the most heart breaking and life altering moment of his life was seeing his wife on the ground, with nothing on her body but blood.

So, he screamed.

It was the most heartbreaking sound that Wafaa had ever heard in her entire life. She knew he loved her, she knew how much he fucking loved her because he chose her, when it came to choosing between life and death, he chose Mannat.

So she knew how much he loved her, but hearing his agony, hearing the loud sobs and the screams, she realised that Mannat was the only one who had ever made him feel. She was the only one he could ever want.

It wasn't that Mannat was nothing without Wajeeh, it wasn't that Mannat needed Wajeeh. It was quite literally the fact that Wajeeh needed Mannat. Wajeeh needed her more than he needed to breathe, more than he needed to live.

She knew what was happening around her, she knew that Mannat had not been shot and neither had she. She knew that because her eyes had captured a dark figure near the stairs, and while nobody could recognize him because of the darkness, she had seen a shadow of his hair. She knew it was him, he was here.

He was here to save her. As long as he was alive, he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He had been right all along. If she had gone with him that day, he would have protected her.

She looked at the side, finding her brother wounded on the floor with his blood leaking out and drenching Mannat. She slowly stood up, seeing how Iskander and some of Wajeeh's men were shooting her brother's men.

She looked at Wajeeh, who was only staring at Mannat and crying because he hadn't been able to protect her. He was in shock. Wafaa quickly got up, knowing that there was no fucking way Wajeeh could cry in misery when he could actually be of help.

She rushed towards him, shaking him violently by the arm.

"She's not shot!" Wafaa exclaimed out loud, finding the tears on his cheeks and the way he was shaking.

She had never expected Wajeeh to be the kind of man who could cry.

"Wajeeh! She's okay, she passed out. She's fine!"

She tried to reassure him, even when she didn't even want to be near him. It was kind of crazy. He had picked her, he had taken her name as the life he wanted to save and Wafaa understood.

She understood his reasons and his love and everything else, but his simple choice had made things clear for her. It had given her the clarity that nothing else could.

This one fucked up moment had shaped things up for her. When she saw Wajeeh still in shock and even a bit of trauma, Wafaa shook him violently.

"Iskander shot Balaaj, they need you. Get the fuck up!" She shook him hard, and Wajeeh shuddered looking up finally.

"Mannat is okay, go!"

Wajeeh stood up quickly, realising that he quite literally had a breakdown right there and then.

Mannat was okay.

She was alright.

Fuck.

Thank God.

Okay.

He picked up his gun, looking at Mannat who was laid on the floor with a pool of blood surrounding her. His hands were shaking. How was he supposed to shoot with shaky hands?

"I'll be with her, go." Wafaa said, taking a deep breath. Her own heart was beating fast with rush and fear. She had so much to think about, but right now, they all needed to be safe.

Wajeeh looked at Mannat, feeling like he would start screaming all over again.

He hurriedly took off his jacket, and rushed towards Mannat. He knew that if he touched her, he would start screaming again. He wouldn't be able to take it.

He threw the jacket over her, covering her cowering and still body. He tightened his hold on his gun, knowing that he had to finish it off. This would never be over if a Malik remained alive.

The moment he laid his eyes on Iskander, he found him struggling. He was shooting with the gun he had but he was outnumbered and there was a very high chance that he would get shot in the next ten seconds. Since he was fighting off one of Balaaj's men, another man was aiming to shoot at him from the other side of the dark basement. Wajeeh let his anger take over him, let his mind go back to everything bad that had happened and let his gun pull the trigger.

The bullet hit the man straight in his head, causing him to drop dead on the floor. Iskander's eyes averted towards Wajeeh. A silent nod took place between them.

While Iskander had done the most important thing, the fact that he had shot Balaaj in the arm while he was just about to shoot his own sister, the man wasn't dead. He was on the floor, groaning in pain.

Wafaa had picked up his gun the moment he got shot, knowing that her brother was a bastard and pain wasn't a problem for him. She had picked up the clothes he had stripped away from Mannat, and she had tried not to throw up at the sight of her brother's blood spreading all over Mannat's body.

He was unconcious after the second bullet had hit him, it came from Iskander too. It was a way of making sure that he was down for good.

On the other hand, Iskander was shooting the man who had tried to walk towards Wafaa and take a hold of her. Wajeeh shot two men who tried to move towards Mannat, Mannat who was still in shock and laid unmoving.

He groaned out loud when a gunshot echoed in the hair and the bullet scraped against the side of his other arm, blood oozed out of his arm and for a moment, he was thankful.

The emotional trauma and pain was so distracting for him that physical pain actually helped him gain focus. He turned around in hurry and pulled the trigger again, shooting the man who had shot his arm.

When an arm grabbed him from behind and tried to crush his windpipe by putting pressure on his neck, he was quick to use his injured arm as he jammed it into the man's stomach. He repeated the action twice before the man's hold loosened enough to let him breathe. With the third push, he had made the men fall back behind.

Wajeeh looked him dead in the eye as he shot him in the knees, enjoying the brutal screams that escaped his throat. After that, he shot him in the stomach and let him die slowly.

When he turned around, he found Iskander's gun being thrown at a distance. He was fighting with his hands, throwing punches here and there. He punched one of the two men who were fighting him off. The other hand used the barrel of his gun to hit him. Iskander stumbled back, and fell down.

A gun was pointed towards him yet again. Wajeeh knew that he wouldn't be able to shoot both the men at the same time, since he only had one gun.

He yelled for Iskander's name instead, and threw his own gun at him. Iskander caught a hold of it quick and shot one man, as the other rushed towards Wajeeh and tried to shoot him.

Wajeeh ducked down as the first bullet escaped him. The second one pierced the man's back as Iskander shot him before he could pull the trigger again.

They looked around themselves.

There were lying bodies, dead bodies and the stench of blood everywhere.

His men were walking around and making sure that there was no danger anymore. Wajeeh looked at Iskander, who was walking towards him as well.

"You're shot."

Iskander said the moment he looked at Wajeeh.

The younger Masroor only shrugged.

"I'm fine."

Both the men walked towards the women. Wafaa was still sitting by Mannat's side at the very corner, all because she was scared that someone would come and hurt them again during the brutal fight. Despite the four men who had been surrounding them throughout the shooting, she was still scared.

When Mannat didn't move and one of Wajeeh's men offered to carry her into the corner, Wafaa had refused.

Mannat had enough damage through male touch today. She didn't want her to be anymore traumatised than she already was.

She had begged her to walk, but Mannat couldn't. She didn't have any energy. She couldn't even talk.

Wafaa had told her she didn't want her near her brother, she needed to try and move. Mannat had tried then, because the stench of blood was all around her. She took four steps, before she was ready to collapse on the ground again. Wafaa didn't know how she had gathered the energy herself, but she made Mannat walk four more steps and then she laid down at the corner of basement. It was the most heartbreaking sight she had ever witnessed.

She had always felt insecure of Mannat, because of the way she always managed to carry herself. Even when she was hurting, her head would be held up high and she would walk as if nothing could ever bother her. She had this ability to conceal her real emotions and Wafaa envied that ability.

Looking at her now, she didn't wish for her worst enemy to experience what Mannat was going through right now.

When Iskander reached near Wafaa, she looked at him with doe like eyes. Her vulnerability and her pain was so evident, it was hurtful.

Iskander hurt looking at her. She looked exhausted, and pained. She looked like she had been through hell. Her hands and her legs carrier marks of tight rope. Her neck was red all over, her face was bruised, her hair was all over the place. Her clothes had blood all over them and he was sure some of it was her own blood too.

He never knew that her brother used to beat her, not until one of Wajeeh's men had told him that Balaaj was a monster who even hurt his own family, his own sister. What more could he expect from a Malik?

He hesitated in touching her, because she didn't love him anymore and he had no right.

But he needed to, he needed to make sure that she was alright. His own heart felt like it would shatter if Wafaa didn't come close to him and tell him that she was okay.

Wafaa stood up from the ground and took a step near him, hesitation clear in her actions as she took two more steps towards him.

Her eyes were watery, and red. His own were the same.

"Thank you," she murmured, choking up.

"For saving me."

Iskander nodded, because he didn't know what question he could even ask.

"I'm okay." She answered the one question he hadn't even asked her, because she could read his eyes well..

Iskander swallowed, but nodded.

She was lying. She wasn't okay.

Before he could talk to her more or even look at Mannat, they heard a voice and they knew who it belonged to.

It was always said that bad people don't die so easily, Balaaj was proving it right. Why everyone had assumed that he had died after two gunshot wounds, he was still very much alive.

Wafaa frowned when she saw who he was with, it was Wajeeh. He was holding him up by the scalp, dragging him by his hair towards them.

He gave her a look, she nodded.

He dragged him by his scalp the way he always managed to drag Wafaa. She felt a certain sense of relief within herself.

He was going through the pain that he always made her go through. She liked it.

"He's still alive." Wajeeh murmured as he threw Balaaj on the floor right in front of them.

He kicked him in the gut, and Balaaj screamed out loud in agony. His agony was nothing compared to the one Mannat and Wafaa had faced in the last few hours.

"This is for looking at her with your fucking ugly eyes." He cursed, spitting at him.

He punched him in the face, once, twice, thrice way too many times. He kept on punching him until his own knuckles turned bloody and his arm hurt more and more with every beating, but he couldn't stop..

They could hear the cracking of bones, the groans of Balaaj that screamed he was close to dying, the yelling and the tears on Wajeeh's cheeks. He was in pain, physical and emotional and no amount of anger or beating could change that. Nothing could.

"And this is for touching her!" He yelled, stepping on his hand. Wafaa gasped out loud in horror when he shot his hand, blood oozed out of his body like anything.

"No woman should be touched by you. You've violated enough of them." He shot his other hand as well, then kicked him in the gut.

"You touched the woman I love, with these hands." He stepped on the bloody hand, pressing it down with his boot as he used the pointed end.

"And you hit your sister with this hand." He beat him over and over again, not caring that his men looked at him like he had gone crazy. Iskander hadn't seen him this way either.

He always looked like he an arrogant boy who had turned into a man way too young.

A man who didn't want anything to do with this world but enjoyed the power too. A boy who was in love with a girl and he turned to a man, only to protect her.

He wanted to hate him, wanted to shoot the bastard who had played with Wafaa's head, he wanted to loathe him because his Wafaa was in love with him.

But after seeing the struggle today, after seeing his conflict and his fight, his vulnerabilities and his brokenness, he couldn't do that.

He was a boy, who had been forced to become a man too young. He was damaged, and yet he was trying to fix everyone around him.

Iskander could understand that all too well. This world made you dark, and it got tiring to be everything and nothing all at the same time.

Iskander shook his head and put his hand on Wajeeh's shoulder, trying to stop him.

"Wajeeh, enough."

"You touched her!" He kept on hitting the man, not caring that he was bleeding too.

"He touched her!" He kept on yelling the same over and over again, because even looking at Balaaj reminded him of what he had done a while back.

"How could you touch her? Your problem was with me!"

His voice cracked, but he kept on hitting the man who was taking his last breath.

"It was never with her! Me! Why did you hurt her?!"

He shot him again, as if that would dull his pain.

Balaaj stopped breathing.

"How dare you?!"

"Wajeeh, enough."

"Wajeeh, he's dead! Enough!" Wafaa closed her eyes.

Her brother was dead. Her blood was dead. Why did she feel relieved then?

He wouldn't hurt her anymore. He wouldn't beat her. He wouldn't threaten her. He was gone.

She wouldn't have to fear someone dragging her by the hair, she wouldn't have to panic everytime she thought of visiting, she wouldn't have to spend countless nights afraid that someone would come and beat her up because the one who did it was gone.

He was dead. Her brother was dead. He wouldn't be able to touch her anymore. He wouldn't be able to touch any woman.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

But he didn't stop.

It got so brutal and so intense after a while that Iskander stopped telling him to not do it anymore, he understood now. He only wrapped his arms around Wafaa's neck because he was only thinking of her right now.

He let her hide her face in his neck and simply let her cry. Her brother was dead. He was gone. He was finally gone. She cried in his arms, sob taking over herself as she cried and cried. There was relief, there was pain, there was freedom.

Iskander didn't notice when Mannat lifted her head up and looked around her. The stench of blood was still fresh and engraved everywhere, all she could hear was the constant yelling and the voices of someone being hit.

When her vacant eyes stared ahead, she found Wajeeh crying and screaming and hitting a man who was already dead.

She had never seen him look so bloody, so brutal. It was the first time she was seeing him as a monster, as a beast. He had no remorse that he had killed people. Infact, he looked helpless even now. He looked helpless because he hadn't killed him when he needed to be killed. He hadn't been able to save the woman he loved. He was bleeding and hurting and he didn't care because all that existed in his head was doing something to make it all better.

Why did he keep on hitting Balaaj even in his death? All because he didn't know what else to do. He didn't know what else was left of his life. He felt like a dead man alive. He had no where to go anymore. He had nothing to do.

All his life, he had taken pride in protecting the woman that he loved. All of his bad decisions had been covered up because he was doing it to protect the one that he held close to his heart but all of it came down to one moment, and this one moment had ruined years of all that he did.

He didn't have anyone else to blame but himself.

Even now as he kept on hitting a pile of flesh, a dead man, it was her who picked up the last piece of courage that she had and stood up on shaky legs.

She couldn't see him like this.

She couldn't see him look like such a devil and yet such a broken piece of a story. She had to stop him. She didn't know if she could even hold him right now, but she had to stop him.

She wrapped his coat around herself, and took four shaky steps towards him. She put her bloody hand on the wall, just so she wouldn't fall down. She took two more steps and reached him, her eyes saw his body first. He was lying there, in his own flesh and blood with no life in his eyes.

Yet, she wrapped the coat around herself even tighter because she felt his hands all over her.

"Stop." She whispered, it was the first word out of her mouth after everything.

Wajeeh didn't even feel her presence, neither did he stop.

She took three more steps and reached him.

"Stop, Wajeeh." She tried again, looking at him.

"Please, stop." She begged this time, and he stilled hearing her voice.

His hands started to shake again, and he swallowed. He felt like he would throw up, he felt like it would never be the same.

He stopped.

He turned around.

He saw her empty eyes. He wanted to look away.

"He's dead, it's okay." She still said, and then she fainted in his arms.

"she's okay. She's been through a lot, she's under alot of stress but she's fine. He didn't hurt her."

His father had been trying to console him for more than an hour now but no word from anyone was doing him any good right now. He didn't think anything would ever be okay and the only e thought he had in his mind was to make sure that his wife was alright. He always wanted to get his shit together but he had been too late and now he would always suffer because of it.

It didn't matter though. He had signed up for a lifetime of suffering already but he didn't want her to go through the same. He didn't think he could go through the suffering knowing that Mannat was suffering as well.

When his father said that Balaaj didn't hurt Mannat and she was safe, he didn't know that Mannat would have preferred physical pain over the pain she had managed to receive. The kind of pain that had made her pass out.

"Yes, he did." Wajeeh murmured, wincing as he lifted his arm up.

They were still at her grandfather's house, with everyone trying to heal whatever they could after the battle they had gone through.

"Come on, you need to go to the clinic. Pain pills and home bandages aren't enough. Look, there's blood again."

His father ushered him but Wajeeh shook his head. He wouldn't be able to go anywhere at this point.

"I'm fine." He shrugged him off.

"Wajeeh, come on." His father knew that he was hurting.

He was terrified himself. The idea of that bastard torturing Mannat was tramuatizing and he was glad that Balaaj Malik was dead. Still, he knew that they all had to move forward from this.

There was still so much left. Wajeeh had so much to fight for. Malik Balaaj had died, but his father was alive and well. He wouldn't let the matter go so easily. They had killed his son. He would want revenge.

"I said, no." Wajeeh denied again, then looked around and couldn't find a trace of Wafaa.

She had lost a brother. He had killed her brother. While she didn't have to be terrified of him anymore, while she didn't have to live in the fear of her brother coming to hurt her, Wajeeh had become the murderer of her blood. He was sure that she was tramuatized enough too.

"Where's Wafaa?" He asked, looking at his father.

"She's with the doctor. Iskander's inside too."

Iskander had not left Wafaa's side since he killed Balaaj. She hadn't let go of him either. At this point, Wajeeh was relieved that she had someone with her. He had fucked her up too much, she needed someone like Iskander.

As he was lost in his own thoughts, the door creaked open and the doctor came out of the room Mannat was sleeping in.

"How's Mannat?" Wajeeh enquired, face etched in concern and eyes staring at the man with a frown on his forehead.

The doctor nodded, as if to relieve him of his worry.

"I gave her some sedatives, she'll be in sleep for around twelve hours. Physically she's fine." He assured her.

Physically. She was fine physically. She wasn't fine otherwise.

The doctor glanced at Wajeeh, seeing his bruised face and his badly bandaged bloody arms. He looked like hell. How the hell was he even standing on his feet right now?

"I'm going back to the clinic. I can treat you better over there." He told the younger Shah, who shook his head.

"No." He denied again.

His father knew he was punishing himself. He was trying to relish in the physical pain so he wouldn't have to bear the emotional pain.

"He won't leave her side, doctor. Can you send someone from the clinic to treat him here?"

"The bullet might have only grazed his arm but his other arm was stabbed. He has several other cuts and bruises. He needs to be treated in a medical facility." The doctor replied, as Shah Shaherzaad started to lead him outside of the area.

"He's stubborn. He won't go." He told the man at a safe distance.

"You're his father. Please tell him it's dangerous and his arm can get highly infected."

He could only do so much. If Wajeeh's injuries got infected, they would have to take him to a hospital in Lahore.

"I'll see what I can do. I'll call you if there's anything else."

When he came back, he saw his son in the same position. He was standing outside Mannat's door, staring at her sleeping body and trying not to break down.

"Malik Ibrar is here."

Shah Masroor stood up, shaking his head. He had been expecting Ibrar for a while now, since he had sent his men to encircle the house and set up their targets. He already knew that the man would do something of this sort, which is why his own men had tried to bargain a deal and take control of the situation.

Malik Ibrar couldn't be in control anymore. He didn't have the power force, as Balaaj had walked away with most of the men. He also didn't have influence, because rumours of his apparent issues with his son had created a pressure on him.

With Iskander's help, they had also stopped the flow of money from abroad. His hands were tied now.

He just didn't know that. He didn't know that his men had switched loyalties and he certainly didn't know he was walking into a death trap himself.

"I'll deal with him. Bring him in."

He ordered his man, looking at his son who was still stood outside Mannat's door even though it had been hours.

He twitched upon hearing that Malik Ibrar was here.

"No, I will." Wajeeh said, turning to his father.

He knew that the man had control of the situation but he could never trust the Maliks. They always had a trick or two up their sleeves.

Besides, Malik Ibrar was grieving. Grief damaged a man and drove him crazy. He didn't want his father to get hurt either.

"Wajeeh."

Shah Masroor did not want his son to be any more hurt than he already was.

"You know I've already managed everything. You're already hurt." he tried but his son was not having any of it.

"Let us talk and then I will finish this chapter on my own." He further elaborated, Wajeeh shook his head.

"I killed his son. Didn't I? I don't want him to harm you." He replied.

Shah Masroor felt sorry for his son. Wajeeh looked so exhausted and lost. He didn't look like the man who thought everything was under his control. He looked damaged for the first time.

"Let's go together." The old man suggested, knowing that his son wouldn't budge otherwise.

Wajeeh looked like he wanted to argue, but then he let out a slow nod and walking alongside his father, ready to face the last remaining enemy.

"Ibrar."

Malik Ibrar did not look well. His eyes were swollen and red. His face was pained but he was putting up a good show of looking angry. He had a gun in his hand and another one under his clothes. He was not here to talk but he was here to kill. He had done it before and he could do it again.

"I've always believed in justice. Justice is vengeance." He spoke up, instead of greeting them.

Wajeeh knew this was the typical Malik Ibrar way. He would talk and talk, he would let the person fall into to the conversation and then he was suddenly pull out a gun and shoot without hesitation. It was one of his favourite games but Wajeeh wasn't in the mood to play.

"An eye for an eye. A life for a life. A son for a son."

He directed his gaze towards his son in law, who only looked back with a tired expression on his face. He had never had a day so long and so damn painful.

It was night time already, and yet it seemed like it wouldn't pass.

"So you are saying that you are here to kill me?" Wajeeh asked him, even though he knew the answer to that.

"I am not going to hide. You ended my legacy. I will make sure to end yours, but I need answers first."

He looked so smug and confident, like he was the one in charge here. His face reminded Wajeeh of Balaaj. The same Balaaj who had touched Mannat, the same Balaaj who had hit Wafaa, the same Balaaj who had enjoyed putting everyone through trauma.

"No, you won't." Shah Masroor said, understanding his trick as well. He gestured one of his men to come inside.

"You came into our home and you will murder my son in our home and walk away? No."

He denied, looking at the man.

"Balaaj's body is in the basement. He has been cleaned up. Take your son and give him a proper funeral." He tried, even though he had no plans of doing so.

He was only taking Balaaj's name to make the man lose control, to distract him.

Upon the mention of his son, Shah Masroor felt the burn in his eyes.

"My son's soul will not rest until your son is dead, Masroor." He answered, gripping his gun tight as he glared at the two men in front of him.

"Balaaj was right. He was right all along. He kept telling me of your real intentions and I didn't believe my own blood."

He mumbled, shaking his head. He couldn't believe that he hadn't trusted his own son. Since when did his trust on Wajeeh got so much, that he refused to listen to the son he had himself?

"Yes, he was right."

Wajeeh replied, looking smug for the first time.

"Your men won't be able to enter. Mine have gone through hell today, they've lost their friends, they're ready for every battle thrown their way." He further said, as two men tackled Malik Ibrar to the ground and took a hold of his gun.

He tried to fire but it was a mis shot and in vain, as he had already exposed himself. As he got held up by one man, the other one searched him completely and took the other gun away as well.

They backed away and stood at a distance, letting Malik Ibrar stand up as he coughed and tried to hold onto something.

"What did you think? You'll come here and use your words while your men will raid this house and you'll walk away unharmed while I die on my knees?"

Wajeeh asked him, taking a gun from the man as he circled around Malik Ibrar.

"That isn't happening." He murmured, backing away.

"Your son was not as dumb as we thought he was, Malik Sahab. I also know that you had sent your men the moment you found out that Balaaj died."

It was Shah Masroor who spoke up this time, a grin on his face.

"I took care of that. I gave them the same option that was given by your son. A choice." He further said, continuing when Malik Ibrar glared at him despite his shock.

"Some chose to side with us, others didn't."

"Then they realised why should they side with an evil man who doesn't pay them enough and has no legacy left of his own?" His son completed his words, and Shah Masroor was glad that Wajeeh could hold onto himself and his confidence despite everything.

"This world is about power more than loyalty, Malik Ibrar."

Wajeeh repeated the same words that Malik Ibrar had once said to him, mockery in his voice.

"I didn't want to kill you. I had other plans for you and I wanted to keep you alive for her sake but I don't want that anymore."

He explained, looking at him as he lifted the gun.

"You have brought nothing but pain and misery to everyone around you."

Wajeeh stated, looking him in the eye.

"You stole her father from her, you stole the husband of your own sister and got him killed, all because your precious honor had been hurt."

He spat, eyes filled with anger as he remembered all the horrible things that this man had done. Sure, he wasn't a good man himself but unlike Malik Ibrar, he never wanted to hurt his own family.

You hurt Mannat. She is your family.

He didn't let his subconscious take over his senses right now.

"Every year when she would miss her father, I would curse you. I would pray for the day when I could derive you of the same happiness."

He told the man, remembering the many nights where he would find her outside in the garden with tears brimmed in her eyes. She never told this to anyone but she would sometimes, talk to her father while walking in the garden. She would cry and tell him how much she missed him and then she would go into her mother's room and look at his photographs and cry some more. She would talk to him as if he was right there but he wasn't.

It didn't matter if there were a hundred people around to make her understand that she wasn't alone. It didn't matter that her mother gave her more love than needed. It didn't matter that Uncle Masroor always took care of her like she was his own daughter. No one could fill the void that her father had left in her life.

"In a way, I finally did that. I killed the man who was supposed to carry your legacy. I was the one who tried to drive you two apart by creating differences on purpose."

Wajeeh admitted, staring at Malik Balaaj. He looked like he would burst with anger, but he couldn't do anything. He was helpless.

"He found out the truth and you didn't believe him. Now he is dead and you are going to die."

Wajeeh wanted to laugh in his face, but he didn't have energy to do so. He could kill a thousand Malik Ibrars and yet the past wouldn't be changed. He just had to put an end to it all.

"Yet, there is nothing good about any of it. Nothing will change even when you die. people I love will suffer and I will suffer because of them."

He knew killing him would break off their deal with the government, but he didn't want to risk it anymore. His father wasn't asking him to stop. He must have another plan in his head. He could just kill the man and get on with it.

"If you're going to kill me, get it over with. I don't want to hear a word you have to say."

Malik Ibrar seethed out in anger, because he couldn't hear all of the times he had gone wrong. He had always been prepared to face death. He wasn't scared of anything at this point.

"You know the only satisfaction I can draw from all of this? It's a satisfaction that you will not interfere in your daughter's life anymore."

Wajeeh wanted to say that, he wanted to make the man known that his daughter would be free of him.

"You will not be able to control her. You will not be able to manipulate her. You will not be able to stand and watch as your son beat his own sister. She'll be free of you, that's good."

He finally said, staring at the man.

"I'll see you in hell, Malik Ibrar."

His hand was about to press the trigger, but before he could do that..he heard Wafaa's voice in his hear pleading at him to stop.

Wajeeh groaned out loud, lowering his gun as Wafaa reached him with a scream.

"Wajeeh! Stop!" She yelled, asking him to not do this.

Wajeeh hated the fact that she still had empathy for this man. He had ruined her life and she was still trying to protect him.

"Wajeeh, please. Please stop." He shook his head, mumbling a no.

He asked her to move. She didn't.

"He's my father."

She pleaded, looking at Wajeeh. He didn't move though. He only glared at Malik Ibrar because he wanted him gone.

"Look, he's a cruel man and I hate him too but I can't take two of my family members dying today."

Wafaa tried again, her voice coming out hollow and empty as well. She had been through so much today, she didn't have any energy to mourn another family member, she didn't have the energy to feel guilty for feeling relieved.

"Wafaa, you're better off." Wajeeh finally said.

She had spent so much time trying to forgive herself for being the woman that kept hoping to break a marriage apart. She had spent so much time trying to forgive Wajeeh for not choosing her. She had spent so much time trying to forget all the bad things, because every second felt like an hour. The whole day had felt like a lifetime. She couldn't go through more.

"I know." She was better off.

"Iskander told me you had another plan. Send him to jail, don't kill him." She whispered, looking at him.

Wajeeh shook his head. 

"You don't know him. He'll manage to get out and torture everyone again." He reminded Wafaa, but she didn't believe him.

She believed that Wajeeh wanted to feel something other than guilt and brokenness. She believed that Wajeeh didn't want to feel helpless anymore and this was his way of trying to feel that.

But she also believed that he wouldn't be able to feel anything, even if he killed her father.

"He won't. It's over, isn't it? No one's by his side anymore. He lost, Wajeeh."

She reminded him, trying to do the right thing.

Even being near Wajeeh hurt her constantly, but she had to do this. She had to be strong right now.

"Then why doesn't it feel like it? Why does it feel like I lost?"

She didn't have an answer to that, but she did let him bend his hand and let out a sigh.

Shah Masroor walked over to his son and whispered something in his ear. Wajeeh nodded, stepping back.

Wafaa turned around and looked at her father. She had never seen him look so helpless before.

"I have always loved you. Ever since I was a little girl, I looked up to you. I loved you. I used to wait in the baithak every day when you would go to work, just so you would come back and spend time with me. Sometimes you did and sometimes you didn't."

She started to talk, hoping that she would let it all out today without breaking down. She had wished to say all of it for so long now, but she never had the courage.

Today, she did.

"The only happy memory I have of you is you feeding me kheer in my childhood. This is the reason why kheer is my favorite dessert, it's the only happy memory I have of my father."

Her voice shook as she said that, staring at the man who didn't look one bit emotional to even see her. How could a man be so cold towards his own children? She didn't know.

"But you changed, every day you changed. The more I grew up, the more distant you became. The more you started to show me what you were capable of. You beat my mother in front of me and I couldn't do anything about it."

She would always remember being eight years old and hearing her mother's screams from the living room. She would always remember seeing her mother being slapped outside the kitchen and her smiling through the tears because she had caught Wafaa watching them.

"You would kill people and come home with bloody hands and not care that it would leave me terrified and with nightmares."

She would always remember how he would come home with his shirt soaked in blood and a devil's smile on his face, like he had done something to be proud of. She would always remember hearing the screams of men from the basement, who would be chained and tortured each night.

"You let my brother beat me whenever he wanted to and you never stopped him. You always doubted me, one way or the other."

She would always remember how her brother would slap her around and her father would distastefully look at them, like he couldn't care less that she was being beaten.

She was a woman after all. She deserved it, even when she didn't.

"You didn't even let me go to school and enjoy it. I was always scared that someone would find out that my father was a bad man and they will kick me out. You didn't even let me make friends."

The only friends she had made were in America, and she had maintained a safe distance for their own safety. They weren't even friends, they were just acquaintances that made her feel normal for a while.

"I still remember how much I had to ask you to send me abroad, only because I had found out you had connections there. I begged and I begged but you never allowed,"

Malik Ibrar listened to his daughter, because he had never listened to her talk so much.

"You let Balaaj beat me into submission, but I tried and I tried and you finally allowed me to go. You made me feel so guilty for going, all those promises of honor and threats of killing me if you ever found out I had done something,"

She shook her head as a few tears came out of her eyes.

"I lived my life in fear of you, even when I was miles apart."

She admitted.

"Why are you saying all this?" Her father snarled.

"Because my brother knew and I want you to know as well." Wafaa cleared her throat, feeling like there were no chains around her anymore.

She felt free. She had never felt free before. Not even in America.

"I didn't respect your honour when I was in America. I loved a man, I kissed a man, I slept with a man."

She saw the disgusted look on her father's face and enjoyed it.

"He made me understand that every man was not the same. He made me realise that men could also love and they could also be hurt and they also had emotions."

She elaborated, letting the tears flow at this point.

"I had to leave him, I had to hurt him because I had to come back and marry out of fear. I have lived my whole life in fear of you, in fear of death and in fear for my own survival."

She pointed out, shaking her head.

"I am done fearing you. I'm done being afraid of you."

She told him, her heart started to feel like it was free of some burden she had been carrying for a very long time.

"I don't want you to die because death will be too easy. You should remain alive and without family, you should remain alone and fear the day that death will come to you."

She didn't want to curse him like that, but she also couldn't stop herself. Her father had made her life hell, she wanted him to suffer.

"I loved you until the very day that my brother beat me when I visited you at home. I saw the look in your eyes, father. I saw the look when you came to me and you didn't even look sad that I was hurt. It was the day I felt like I wouldn't care even if you died."

She saw the changed expression on his face. The hurt expression that his daughter wouldn't even care if he were dead, but the expression changed within a second.

"I am begging him not to kill you because I want you to suffer, it's got nothing to do with the blood relationship we share."

She pointed out.

Malik Ibrar threw daggers with his eyes.

"If I had a gun in my hand right now, I would shoot you and not even flinch."

He replied, only this time, Wafaa didn't look scared. His words didn't have any affect on her today.

"You might be my daughter but you have no honor. You're exactly like your phuphi." He further said, because there was no way he was going down without making her feel like shit.

This time, Wafaa didn't take his words as an insult. She finally realised that it wasn't an insult at all.

Her aunt had chosen to fuck their honor and marry the man she loved. She was quite amazing, even though she didn't seem too fond of her.

"I never thought I would say this but I am so glad that I am like her. I am so glad I'm not like you."

She gave him a smile, and walked out of the hall with a satisfied expression on her face.

She had always heard that sadness was almost like a cleansing of one's soul. Actual sadness, it made you question everything, it made you realise the true worth of things around you, it made you understand your own value. It made you understand your own vulnerabilities and strengths. She had finally came to see that it was true.

She felt like she was reassessing herself, and it felt good.

Wajeeh didn't remember the last time he had felt so proud of someone. He looked at his father.

"Father," Shah Masroor looked at his son with an enquiring gaze.

"Call the authorities. Tell them Malik Ibrar has accepted all the allegations made against him. He's ready to go to jail."

Malik Ibrar let out a laugh.

"Kill me. I will not go to jail." He refused, like it mattered.

"Yes, you will." Wajeeh insisted.

"I'll tell everyone the truth." He threatened, earning a laugh from Shah Masroor this time.

"Everyone already knows the truth, Malik Sahab. You'll just be sent to a very old prison with no one to talk to." He declared, continuing.

"All of your lands will be seized by the government. Our property has already been registered. We'll go back to America and live in peace." He explained.

It was the only time Malik Ibrar looked so shocked through out the night. He couldn't fathom someone leaving this life, this power.

"You'll give up all your power to be the American businessman again? After everything?"

Shah Masroor nodded.

"Yes. This world has brought my blood nothing but misery. I am done, and so are you."

___

Thoughts?