Sochta hoon ke woh kitne masoom thhe
Kya se kya ho gaye dekhte dekhte

سوچتا ہوں کے وہ کتنے معصوم تھے
کیا سے کیا ہو گئے دیکھتے دیکھتے

His lips brushed against the corner of my lips, soft and gentle. My nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders, holding me steady against his hardened form. I could feel my breath dissolve in anticipation; I was breathless, my mind giddy with excitement. A slight rumble came from deep within his throat when he pulled back slightly, the sound trailing over my skin, his face angled against my lips. He leaned closer in agonising slowness, his lips hovering over mine, when a tap at the door stilled us both.

My head whipped in the direction of the knock, my hair swinging in tandem. The knock was soft, but in the silence of the room it seemed to echo off my skin, rattling the serenity of the moment like a blasted primal scream.

My forehead creased with irritation and my cheeks warmed as the realisation of my actions spiralled through my being. "Who could it be?" I asked, turning my attention back to him, my hands still clasping onto his shirt. He looked at me, his eyes still dazed and drugged. Upon his bored silence, I arched my brows at him in question, but he remained silent, throwing an irritated glance at the door.

I sighed, attempting to move off him, but his hold tightened and his lips moved against the skin of my neck. "Let it be," he mumbled.

"Maybe you should check?" My eyes rolled shut, all thoughts muffled by the warm blood raging through my veins. "Aliyaar, it might be impo—" my attempt to reason with him died on my lips, when his mouth pressed against my jaw.

Another knock sounded at the door, but this time it did not request, rather it demanded urgent attention. Aliyaar looked up, the lines on his forehead returned and he stared at the door grimly. His blood pooled with irritation. "Bhai?" We heard Shehryar's muffled voice through the door, followed by another impatient knock. "Bhai are you inside?"

"I will kill him." Aliyaar seethed running a hand through his thick black hair. I stifled a giggle, my eyes darting between the door and him, as I slowly removed myself off him. His frown deepened, but there was a subtle hint of amusement glimmering across his eyes.

"Wear this." He said, wrapping his coat over my shoulders, but then his eyes glanced upon my legs and he groaned. "You're torturing me. Just stand behind the door. I'll—"

"Bhai, open the door I know you're in there." Shehryar banged against the door, his voice laced with unbreachable finality. "It's urgent."

Aliyaar clenched his eyes in irritation and then turned to the door, covering it with lengthy strides. As soon as the door opened, I heard him growl in anger, "What the fu—"

"Shanzae's Taya has been shot. Ibrahim uncle—" Shehryar's voice cracked at me like a whip, strong and steady. The brutality of his words sent a shiver racing down my spine, draining the blood from my body. "—he is being rushed to the hospital."

Aliyaar chanced a glance at my shocked face, before quickly turning his attention back to Shehryar. "But he wasn't in Pakistan. Hadn't he left on the night of our wedding? He only came back for a day."

"Apparently not." I heard him say from behind the door. "Either he left and came back, or he never went back, because as per the news he was on his way to the airport."

Aliyaar nodded, his lips pressed tight. "When did it happen and what's the latest on his health?"

"I just saw it on the news, it's too early to have any reliable information. Maybe we should—"

"Get the cars ready and put the house and office on high alert." Aliyaar instructed, his fingers pressing upon his brow. Just then his phone rang behind us and he threw a glance towards it over his shoulders. "This must be from Shanzae's family," he said turning back to Yaar, "Go, I'm coming down." The door shut behind him and I stared at him in injured silence. A bleak expression marred his face, a muscle working his jaw. His features were unnervingly apathetic, almost like he expected this.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach, my insides clenching with fear and worry. Aliyaar walked over to his desk and held his phone. Zayan's panicked voice sounded from the other side, as he retold the information Shehryar had just shared with us. "We're going to the hospital right now. We have no other information at the moment. I think you should come there directly." He said before the line dropped and the silence in the room stretched inexorably thin.

"Get dressed." He walked to a cabinet and unlocked it, his face still knotted with a vague expression.

"I am coming with you?" A flare of surprise shot through me. My family had never allowed us to be involved in party politics.

He remained silent, his fingers examining the grey metal of the gun in his hand. I felt my breath caught in my throat. The steel barrel of the pistol glistened under the light, chillingly deadly. The silence in the room was morbid, the air becoming suffocatingly difficult to breathe.

"I said get dressed. We have to leave." He said, putting on the safety of the gun and slipping it inside the pocket holster.

"They won't like it if I come."

"I'm not leaving you here alone. I cannot risk another attack." His lips thinned and his eyes went chillingly blank. I stood there, staring at him unsurely, obvious unease growing upon my face. As if reading it, he closed the distance between us. His hands wrapped around my wrists, pulling me closer to him. "He'll be alright." He assured.

I nodded looking up into his eyes. He watched me with an abstract understanding, as if reading the questions floating in my eyes. I cleared my throat when the words refused to leave. "Are you involved—?" My voice came out low, but surprisingly steady, keeping a tight rein on my emotions.

Without hesitation, he shook his head. "I haven't done this." At this I released a pent up breath, the tension in my body releasing with the caustic rush of air. "I promise yo—"

I held my hand against his lips, silencing his words. "I trust you." My features softened with a bitter fleeting smile. "I just hope he is alright." I sighed, my eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"He'll be fine, inshallah." He ran an assuring hand over my head. "Wait here, I'll get you something to wear."

➰➰➰

The ride to the hospital was short. I wrapped the duppatta over my head, my mind distracted with the sight of the passing roads outside. Aliyaar drove at a maddening speed, our car closely followed by Shehryar's and the two vans filled with guards. Mist began to fog our windshield and the space felt clammy and warm with the heater inside the small space.

My hands were clenched together, my lips murmuring prayers. I had grown up surrounded by luxury, yet behind the facade of perfection laid bare the ugly truth. The constant fear. The inevitable. The painful reality of an insecure existence. The realisation had settled in early on, but the reality was bitter and painful. All people saw was the power, the wealth and the riches, but no knew the of the real fire we walked upon everyday of our lives.

A tear rolled down my face at the thought of my family. We had accepted the reality of our life, we had bartered our peace for power and wealth. Silver bullets did not scare us, threats did not weaken us. Yet now our hands were held up in prayer, utter helplessness and despair raging through our minds.

"Slow down, you're driving too recklessly." I warned in a disapproving tone, my nails digging into the palms of my hand.

"I cannot risk another attack." He gritted out, his eyes still glued to the road ahead.

"There will not be another attack, not tonight at least." I sighed, rubbing my temples. The pulse in my head began to throb and a splitting ache pierced through my head.

The car rounded towards the mobbed hospital gate. News reporters, party members, supporters and the general public had begun to throng the entrance of the building. As the car reared near, the voices became loud and frenzied. The cameramen ran towards our cars, their voices petering into nothing as they screamed over each other. The guards raced ahead, parting the crowds to let us through. Police vans and men in armed uniformed escorted us to the main entrance. I wasn't surprised to see the heavy security patrolling the premises.

Five men stood at the entrance of the emergency department. I had known them, they were part of the special security employed to protect our family. "Put this inside your purse." Aliyaar whispered, stealthily slipping the gun inside my bag. His eyes were fixed at the men at the entrances while they searched a senior party member. They patted his body down, emptied his pockets, ran the scanner over him before he was finally allowed inside.

"They wouldn't search you." My expression became somber, my eyebrows rigid in disbelief.  Such indignation. "You're family."

"They've been instructed to search everyone." His eyes manoeuvred the surrounding, keen and observant. "They will not let a fly pass through those doors tonight." He said reflectively. He threw a glance at Shehryar, whose car was parked besides us. He seemed to mirror his thoughts, because he leaned forward and slipped something underneath the seat of his car. "Stay close to me and do not talk to anyone but family inside." He instructed before slipping out of the car.

Cameras flashed, the crowd at the entrance shouted, wailing and crying for their leader. Aliyaar raked another cautious glance at the surrounding, before opening the door for me. As soon as I stepped out, his arm wound around my waist, pulling me close to him. Our guards gathered around us forming a wall, shielding us from the preying eyes of the world.

"Sir, we need to search you." The man in the white uniform stepped forward, his shoulders squared and his chin held high in authority. The sound of his voice settled within me, my head turning towards him in fury. He stepped back slightly, his eyes catching the anger pooling in mine. "We have instructions." He tried again, albeit a little softly this time.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" The words left my mouth in a menacing threat. Despite the darkness, the haze of anger flaring my cheeks was unmissable, my brows lined with irritation. "Get out of the way."

The guards exchanged glances, shuffling uncomfortably on their feet. "We have instructions ma'am. The building is on high alert, there cannot be another security breach."

"Instructions?" I scoffed. "Just mov—"

"Shanzae, don't create a scene." Aliyaar whispered besides me. "They are only doing their job." And then he stepped towards the guards, "Hurry up."

Another guard turned towards me, "Can we check your purse?"

"Don't you dare touch her." Shehryar's voice seethed from behind me and Aliyaar's hold on my wrist tightened, the gleam in his eyes doing a poor job of concealing his temper. My face burnt with anger at this indignation. How dare they insult us like this.

Just then my father appeared from inside, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him. Grabbing the opportunity, I pushed passed the guards and wrapped my arms around my father's centre, my tears straining his shirt. His arms went around me, but his eyes were stuck at the gate in horror. "How dare you stop my children?" His voice bellowed across the hall and the guards shook with fear, stealing nervous glances at each other.

The man in the white uniform stepped forward, "We were given instructions, sir. Zaroon Bhai said not to let anyone in, not even family."

"Zaroon has lost his mind." Dad bit back in irritation. "Come inside Aliyaar. I apologise on his behalf, he has been an emotional wreak."

"Just because he is upset does not mean he can insult my husband like that." I snapped, swallowing my nerve ridden fury. "We all are worried, but that does not mean we start acting like brainless —"

"I'm sure that was not his intention, Shany." Dad's soft voice broke through the mayhem of voices raging from outside, his expression laced with tacit apology.

"Shanzae." Aliyaar's stern voice sounded behind me. He gave me a reproachful look, before turning to my father. "How is Ibrahim uncle?"

"The bullet pierced through his left arm. There has been a lot of blood loss, but the doctors seem hopeful. The surgery is still underway." His words were patient, but wary.

We walked inside the hospital, my fingers laced with Aliyaar's in a tight grip. "Why was he in Pakistan? Wasn't he supposed to leave on the night of our wedding?"

Dad shook his head sadly, his shoulders sagging in grief. "Even I thought he left. I have no idea why he would have possibly stayed." He blinked at us in silence, his face drawn with worry and stress.

Inside the hall, Zayan sat besides my two distraught cousins, Zaroon and Shahzad Bhai. Their heads were lowered, a slight sob wreaking through Shahzad Bhai's chest. But despite the grief, Zaroon Bhai's face was drawn together, his emotions greatly in check. I think they saw us coming, but refused to acknowledge our presence. A few party members stood nearby, their faces grim and serious.

Zayan passed me a weak smile, before getting up to give me a hug. "What are you doing here?" He asked softly.

"Aliyaar said I could come. I was worried for Ibrahim Taya. " I whispered. He nodded, putting his arm over my shoulder. "Where is Dada Jaan?"

"He is at home." He answered. Aliyaar turned towards us, waiting for Zayan to elaborate. "He is a little shocked. But after what happened with Shany, I think he expected this." He rubbed my shoulder, leaning in to kiss the top of my head in brotherly affection.

"I did too, but I thought uncle had left." Aliyaar added, rolling his sleeves up. The atmosphere inside the hospital was warm and bright, almost too bright. The floor and walls were stark white, highly polished. The lighting was blazing, flooding the hallway with a piercingly uncomfortable light. The air felt stagnantly sterile, heavy with the stench of sanitiser and bleach. The ward had been cordoned off, all other patients and wailing relatives removed. Nurses and ward boys frequented the area, running around the hall like headless chickens.

"We're all confused as to why he stayed. Dad and I didn't even know he was here." Zayan pursed his lips together.

Shehryar walked closer, his voice a measured whisper, "There is news of riots starting up in the city. Mobs are racketing through the streets, breaking into shops and putting buses and tyres on fire." He held his phone out, showing pictures of a frenzied crowd wrecking through the city.

"This was expected." Aliyaar stated with a shake of his head. "Your party needs to put out an offical statement."

"Dad is waiting for an update from the doctor. Zaroon Bhai isn't in a state to talk to anyone right now." Zayan threw a concerned glance over Aliyaar's shoulder to where the two brothers sat hurdled together. "Maybe Zain Sahab can then go and talk to the media." He said looking at the senior party member standing besides Zaroon Bhai, his hand on his shoulder.

I glanced at Aliyaar thoughtfully and the glimmer in his eyes confirmed my thoughts had been conveyed. A strange twinge of guilt knifed through my heart. My uncle was battling for his life, yet here I was drawing up plans to secure my husband's future.

But politics was not about emotions, it was about opportunities. It wasn't about principles, it was about timings. And now was the right time, to show the world who the new leader was.

"Zayan, a member of the family should make a statement. Why don't you or dad—" I baited him in.

"We've never engaged with the media, Shany. This is a serious announcement, someone who has experience of dealing with the press would be better suited." Zayan replied, his brows knitting together thoughtfully. "Although it would have been better if someone from our family went out."

Aliyaar was watching me carefully, the hazel of his eye glimmering with skepticism. I smiled slowly, taking time to subdue my irritation at my brother lack of intelligence, before turning back to him. "Family is the only option Zayan." I stressed upon the word, my voice loud enough to distract my father towards us. "People need reassurance, they need hope. They need to know our family stands strong, despite whatever happened. They need to know we aren't going anywhere."

Dad walked up to us, his head dipped in thought and his fingers brushed against his chin. "Shanzae is right." He began in a somber tone, his face deep in thought. "We need to think ahead. We have to be prepared for everything." He turned around and looked at Zaroon Bhai, his expression turning pensive. "He isn't in the right frame of mind. What are your thoughts on this Aliyaar?" He asked turning towards him, but then paused. "Why don't you? You're our son as well." He said patting his arm, his forehead easing.

Aliyaar nodded, his face warmed with amusement at the little stunt I had just pulled. He turned to my father with a pursed smile, "Whatever you see fit."

Zayan shook his head in agreement, "the publicist is drafting the statement. You know the rest. I'll have the staff make arrangements for a press conference. Dad and senior party members can accompany you." Aliyaar nodded curtly in approval, before Zayan left with Shehryar to make the arrangements.

Once we were alone, Aliyaar turned to me his eyes gleamed like molten metal. "You're a shrewd little fox," he whispered brusquely, but there was a note of humour underlining it. I held onto his arm, as we stood against the wall, my head resting against his shoulder.

"Sometimes you've just got to do what you've got to do." I sighed looking at the red light burning outside the operation theatre. "I hope he gets better." I sank against him, my voice weak and broken.

His fingers squeezed mine reassuringly, "He'd be alright." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"You think the people who attacked me, did this too? Or is this someone else?"

"You can never be sure, but it seems likely. The problem is we still don't know who did this."

"I find that very hard to believe. We have one of the best IT cells. We have intel on everything, then why is it so hard to track down who is behind this attack." I wondered suspiciously. "You think someone from the party—"

A fury riddled scream from Zaroon Bhai had us turning to him in shock. My heart fell to the ground, my hold on Aliyaar tightening. But the words that left his mouth had a surge of fury chasing away all thoughts from my mind.

"He is the reason my father is fighting for his life." He roared at my father, his finger pointing at Aliyaar. "And you want him to take charge of the party at such a critical hour?"

I felt Aliyaar stiffen besides me, his grip on my hand tightening. I stood there shocked, stupefied, my pulse rampaging through my body. I knew Zaroon Bhai was cross with Aliyaar, but such open animosity was something I hadn't expected.

Shocked gasps echoed through the hall. For a moment, there was nothing but shock, sinking everything into a bewildered silence. Dad's eyes widened, his face riddled with exasperation. "Zaroon!" his voice rose with unbridled rage. "It seems like you've lost your mind. Do not forget who you're talking about."

Aliyaar remained calm, silently taking in the scene unfolding in front of us. His emotions were masked, but it was not difficult to see the anger cut dark fissures across his forehead. His eyes narrowed, rippling with hot rage.

Zaroon Bhai threw a venomous glance at us. Blood roared though me, my heart thumping maddeningly within me.

Ice cold eyes stared at each other. Eyes sharp like the silver of knives. Eyes blinded with rage. I would feel the blood of the two men simmer with fury, their throats searing with raw anger. The severity on their faces deepened, as they continued to stare each other down. The air alit with the heat of anger.

For a moment I was almost thankful, Aliyaar was unarmed. Shahzad held onto Zaroon Bhai's shoulder, failing miserably to pull him away. "He is the one who leaked information about the our Mayfair properties. And Shanzae knows about this." He looked at me accusingly. "Yet she chooses to side with him."

"Don't bring my wife into this." Aliyaar gritted, the veins on his neck throbbed mercilessly, a flare of anger raging through his face. He stepped in front of, shielding me for everyone else.

Zaroon Bhai threw his head back with a cruel laugh. "You didn't seem to have a problem when you brought her in for your own advantage. Isn't it the very reason why you married my sister?" His words with dotted with abhorrence and my heart shuddered at his words.

Aliyaar's face darkened dangerously, but before he could reply Dad stepped in, a stern set of eyebrows perched high on his forehead. "Stop creating a scene, Zaroon. This is not the time nor the place to pick up personal grievances. And don't forget you're talking about my son-in-law." He paused for emphasis. "Aliyaar will make the announcement, clearly you're not in the right frame of mind."

He then turned towards the other party leaders, who were watching this much public altercation unfold in front of them. This was the first time members of our family had engaged in such a hostile spat in front of anyone. Despite how they might feel about Aliyaar becoming a new force within the party, at the moment everyone seemed to agree with Dad's decision.

➰➰➰

His face flashed on the television screen. Pristine as always. He rose to the podium like the sun breaking from the horizon, bringing in new hope, a promise of another day. His jaw was set, his black hair casting a shadow over his forehead. Under the lights, his eyes were liquid, lucid like molten gold, moving with a steely glint of ambition and determination. Strikingly hot, yet piercingly cold.

I drew in a sharp breath, only to exhale fast, my heart beating within my chest with pride. My father stood besides him, his hand over his shoulder.

"You did it." Shehryar said quietly, as he came to stand besides me after the press conference ended and the television screen flashed the next breaking news. The news I had been waiting to read.

"Is Aliyaar Chaudhry the next leader of  the Pakistan United Party (PUP)?"

Apologies for typos, but if you've made it past them, let me know your thoughts on today's chapter.

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Until next time keep me in your prayers. ♥️