Kehte hain Khuda ne is jahan mein sabhi ke liye
Kisi na kisi ko hai banaya har kisike liye

کہتے ہیں خدا نے اس جہاں میں سبھی کے لیے
کسی نا کسی کو ہے بنایا ھر کسی کے لئے

It was almost after the day broke and the muezzin's voice began to echo through the silent halls of the hospital that the surgeon came out of the operating room and announced the good news. "Patient is out of danger. He is being shifted to the recovery room, however the next few hours remain critical. Let's pray he gains consciousness soon." He said with a hopeful smile. My father nodded, relief washing over the tired features of his face. It had been a long troublesome night.

After the doctor left, dad raised his head, exhaustion crumbling his subdued face, and slowly wiped the tear pooling in the corner of his eye before turning to Zaroon Bhai and Shahzad with a wide reassuring smile. "Alhamduillah! I knew he'd be alright." He moved forward to engulf his nephews in a hug. But Zaroon Bhai seemingly surprised at the action jerked back with an angry scowl. His eyebrows drawn together over his eyes; his reddened eyes that only conveyed one emotion - anger.

Every head in the room twisted towards them, apparent shock visible on every face. But no one dared to utter a word, silently watching the spectacle unfolding before them. "I'm sure there were some who wanted him dead." Zaroon Bhai had always been respectful when talking to elders, but tonight he did not mince upon his words. Anger seeped into his tone while he spoke to dad with utter disdain before turning around and throwing a venomous glance towards Aliyaar and I.

I felt my blood simmer with rage at the blatant accusation. He might be my brother, but he had no right to levy such a false baseless allegation against my husband in front of everyone. An accusation is an accusation, and no matter how damning it might be, it always sows the seeds of doubts and suspicions. And tonight a silent implicit accusation had been made.

Aliyaar stood besides me, his shoulders squared, his eyes narrowed and his face darkened with a ripple of anger. I threw a fleeting glance across the hall. All eyes shifted between Zaroon Bhai and Aliyaar, their breaths held together in excitement and anticipation. A public feud, a crack in the family, an obvious loss of control. No matter how trivial it might seem at the moment, they were enough reasons for party members to question the fate of this political dynasty; a fate, it now seemed, laid in the hands of bickering children.

I remained silent, watching Zaroon Bhai fume with rage over Dad's decision to have Aliyaar step forward as the Scion of the party; a right he believed solely belonged to him. And rightly so, if he hadn't created such a scene earlier today and I hadn't shrewdly meddled in between, Dad and the party members would have favoured him above any other. I could feel the silent excitement buzz through the members, who with bated breaths were waiting anxiously for a reaction from Aliyaar.

I stole a glance at the man standing besides, his hands fisting together in a fit of fury at the biting words being shot at him. But this was not the time to react. No. No. No. Not tonight. Tonight Dad had watched Aliyaar carefully, nothing missed by those white flecked hairs of deep rooted wisdom. Shehryar's glance caught mine, the blues of his eyes mirroring the fears floating in mine. We could not afford a reaction from Aliyaar. Not today.

"Where is the goddamn commissioner!" Zaroon Bhai roared. "The man lives off our pieces and then disappears when we need him. Get him here." He screamed orders at the men assembled around him. "I will make sure I find the bastard who did this."

At this, blood roared through Aliyaar, the veins of his temples throbbing painfully. I felt my heart drop when he turned around to face Zaroon Bhai and my father, who seemed to fail miserably at trying to control his nephew. He was furious and it was evident in the way his face twisted angrily at the sight in front of him.

Unable to restrain myself, I lurched forward, my hand wounding around his arm, "Aliyaar." I whispered. He turned to me, his observant eyes taking in the slight shake of my head. "Not now." I spoke so softly, even I couldn't hear myself. His eyes bore into mine, staying there for what seemed like an eternity. An eternity that seemed to draw the life out of me. His eyes glowered like molten embers, threatening to burn everything in an inferno of rage. A shiver of fear shook my core. He had never seen me with such a wildfire burning in his eyes, and it scared me.

But I stared back, my spine steeled against him. His eyes were hot, mine were cold.
A flame curled across his face, but my expressions were frozen with ice. My eyes moved, silently pleading him to control himself, to pause and think. And then almost suddenly his face softened. His expressions contorting with a calculative stillness. His jaw unclenched and the throbbing in his veins subsided. He breathed deeply and then relaxed, his emotions masked under a veil of unmoving placidity.

I could feel every eye on me. I had only held onto my husband's arm, an inconsequential gesture yet played out under frightening circumstances. I turned towards my father, who blinked his lids in silent approval and acknowledgement. "We're leaving." I announced and then looked at Shehryar, who nodded in agreement.

Coolness flitted over my skin, when Shehryar pulled Aliyaar from besides me and headed towards the exit, giving me a moment alone with my family.

"Those guards deliberately insulted my husband." I stated without an ounce of emotion, when my father walked over to me. My eyes were fixed upon my cousin who stood at the other side of the hall, his back facing me. "Tonight a line was crossed." I continued in the same cold voice.

"Shanzae." My dad sighed. "He is upset. It's obvious he isn't thinking straight. I—"

"My husband was insulted. I was insulted." I turned to look at him. "Aliyaar might be a political opponent, but he is your son in law. How can you let anyone humiliate —"

"Beta, I rather have Aliyaar bend today then have him kneel tomorrow." He said in a soft but pointed tone. My eyes flashed with surprise at his words and I looked at him, wide-eyes and in bewilderment. A conniving smile coiled up the side of his lips. "There is a difference and you should understand that."

"What—"

"Everyone saw Zaroon's impulsiveness and Aliyaar's composure tonight. Do you think it won't reach Abba's ears." His eyes glimmered with ambition and hope. He threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder and then turned to me, a smile smile adorning his face. "You did well. He listens to you." He said patting my head.

"Dad—" I stared at him dumbfounded, my tongue tied at the obvious loss of words.

"You were there for me when I needed you. Now I will be there for you when you need me." He said, his arms wrapping around my astounded form. "Now go, Aliyaar must be waiting for you."

➰➰➰

The ride back home was silent. Morning came in strong, and the sun ascended into the eastern sky. When we reached back, Aliyaar left for our room without a word, leaving Shehryar and me to face his parents and Miraal, their faces drawn together in question.

"He is tired." Shehryar answered, much to my relief. "Uncle is out of danger, but doctors are waiting for him to gain consciousness before a final evaluation." Ahmed uncle nodded silently, but Safina aunty pulled me into a hug, her eyes softened with sympathy. Miraal gave me a comforting smile, but the expression on her face confirm my doubts, she hadn't bought Shehryar's silly excuse.

"Shehryar come to my study." Ahmed uncle looked at Yaar, who nodded and followed him out of the hall.

I sighed against Safina Aunty, too tired to care. A splitting headache was wreaking my brain and sleep caked the edges of my eyelids. But there were more important matters that needed attention. Dread crept up my spine at the thought of going back to my room.

He had listened to me in front of everyone, but now that we were alone I wasn't sure how he'd react. My family had wronged him and I would probably be at the receiving end of his wrath.

"The most difficult part of being a woman is having to deal with men and their egos." I heard Safina aunty say in a low murmur, her hand stoking my hair. I pulled away from her embrace, surprised at her words. But she only smiled at my knowingly. "He won't hurt you."

I breathed deeply, my shoulders dropped in exhaustion, "You don't know what happened."

"Yes I don't. But I know him and I know of his affection for you. You don't have to be scared, perhaps just a little patient." She patted my hand, "but if he troubles you, you know his father is in his study. He'll whip him into shape for troubling his daughter." She said with a slight chuckle. I smiled at her words.

"Right now he'll be throwing things around." I said shaking my head.

"Don't you know him well." She laughed, "Now go. He won't say it, but I know he is waiting for you." I sighed, looking up towards the staircase leading to our room. And then turned to her with a thankful smile.

When I entered the room, I wasn't surprised to see his shirt, socks and shoes thrown carelessly on the floor. His watch and phone lay on the bed, but he was no where in sight. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose, and then bent down to gather the discarded articles.

The door of the bathroom groaned open. I dropped the folded shirt on the bed before turning towards the sound. A moment later, he appeared at the threshold, bare-chested and wet, a towel hanging over his shoulder. His eyes caught mine for a fleeting moment, before he quickly averted his gaze.

Under the gleaming rays of the morning sun streaming in through the glass windows, a spark of something flashed across his face, but then in an instant it was gone. His features became remote, almost indecipherable. An immovable countenance.

I stood besides the bed, quietly watching him pace around the room as if looking for something. "Do you want something?"

He did not answer. His back facing me.

"Do you want breakfast?" I asked. He remained silent and then walked up to his side of the bed and threw the towel on it.

Irritation flared through me, but I remained silent, drawing in a deep breath, my fists clenching besides me. I pulled the towel off the bed and yanked it with such force, that it had him turning towards me in surprise. His eyebrows rose at the brash display, but quickly flattened. Any signs of surprise were quickly replaced with a mask of indifference.

I paced before the bed, watching him lay upon it, casually ignoring my existence. Every step was a war between patience and petulance, between fury and annoyance.

With each stride, I felt my pace hasten. My eyes narrowed with clipped irritation at his uncaring aloof form lying before me. Why was he hurting me? What was my fault?

I hadn't hurt him.

Why did I have to pay for what my family did?

All I wanted right now was to coil up in his arms. To tell him how sorry I was for what my family did. To tell him how I wanted nothing more than to see him succeed. To tell him that his dreams were no longer his alone, they were mine too.

But a bitter laugh rose up my throat. A part of me wanted to melt in his arms, while the other wanted nothing more than to punch him for behaving like an ass. I couldn't believe how ludicrously he was acting. Like a sulking boy denied his favourite candy.

He wanted to play, well two could play this game. But my patience was beginning to slip like the loose grains of sand. I pushed at my feet, gathering my pillow from the bed and throwing it on the couch with a loud plop. His eyes were following my movement, but he remained silent, the lines on his face deepening. I pulled a duvet from the wardrobe and walked back to the couch, fully aware of the curious pair of eyes watching me. But I did not look his way, slowly settling on the couch, my eyes drooping shut.

A torturous silence enveloped the room, biting onto our skin like vapid vapours. I waited. And waited.

I had almost given up hope, when I felt a presence behind me. I stilled, my eyes tightly shut. He came.

"Shanzae?"

I stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Soft footsteps sounded on the wooden flooring, and then I felt him crouch next to me. I remained unmoving, my back facing him.

"Jaan."

His fingers carefully threaded over my hair, soothingly stroking its length. "Sleep on the bed. This won't be comfortable, your back might hurt."

"You don't have to pretend to care." I turned around and met his cold gaze with my glowering one. His forehead creased and the lines on his face became rigid, his jaw clenching together.

"If I didn't care for you, your cousin would have been six feet under by now." His face remained impassive, his voice cold and forbidding.

"How dare you threaten me?" His words knifed though my heart. A lingering pain running through my veins. I straightened up, my face licked with unadulterated fury.

"I'm not threatening you. I'm stating facts." He exhaled carefully. "You think I don't understand, how everything was engineered to insult me? From the guards to those mindless accusations."

"And you think I enjoyed it?" I leaned closer, my face in line with his. "You're my husband." My palms wrapped around his neck, roughly pulling his face close to mine.

"And they're your family." He stated quietly.

"Are you questioning my loyalties?" My voice dropped threateningly low, but my face glowered with the heat rising up my spine. He remained silent, but today his eyes betrayed him. They spoke the unsaid, they wrote the unwritten.

In an instant, my hands left him and a poisonous tear stung my eye.

"Shanzae. I didn't —"

"Don't."

I held my hand up, my fingers shaking with the fervor of anger pulsating through me. How dare he? I clenched my hand close, my knuckles whitening and my nails embedding themselves in the soft skin of my palm.

"Shanzae—" he reached for my hand, but I quickly pulled away, pushing myself off the couch, wanting to put some distance between us. But his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. I struggled under his hold, my body wriggling like a worm, but he held on, his hold tight and secure. "Shanzae." He warned, his grip on my waist tightening.

I stopped moving, and after a while his hold loosened. Our breaths became rugged, our hearts beating like violent drums. I slowly turned around, his arms still wound around me, holding me steady against him. I looked up, holding my gaze steady against his deep penetrating one.

"I haven't forgotten what you did for me today."

"I chose you. I chose you over my own blood." I retorted with a hint of resentment. "Why do you think I did that?"

He remained silent, but then spoke with measured control. "Your family thinks I tried to have your uncle murdered."

"Zaroon bhai does. Not my family."

"Your grandfather will only believe what your cousin feeds him. I've seen the control he has over him." He said thoughtfully. "Do you also believe I'm involved."

I sighed wearily at his words, "I wouldn't be here in your arms if I believed you were involved."

His lips formed a sad smile and he inclined down, his forehead pressing against mine. "Zaroon will not stay quiet after what happened. And I still don't know where your grandfather and father stand. If they too think—"

"I will handle them." I murmured. He looked at me in silence, but then nodded. "But Zaroon Bhai will need convincing. If you return the original documents, the cases against Ibrahim taya will be annulled."

"I never stole those papers. I don't have them."

My eyes widened in disbelief, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have trusted me if I told you I didn't have them? You were the one who thought I stole them." I stared at him in uneasy silence. "I don't blame you. You had every reason to not trust me. But when I went to London we were able to arrange documents that claimed your family had forsaken claims of those companies. I've have a friend, who deals in real estate, he agreed to issue a letter that would back the money trail of those properties. But Zaroon is not ready to take any help from me."

"Does Dada Jaan know?"

"Of course he does. But we haven't discussed this ever since our wedding."

"Someone is trying to frame you." I stated quietly. "Someone who wants you out of the picture."

"It's pretty obvious. Those stolen papers, those threat calls, the attack on you and now this." A muscle rippled along his jaw. "Whoever it is wants your family to see me as a threat."

"But if Dada jan thought of you as one, he wouldn't have agreed to this marriage."

"This is what worries me. He has been uncharacteristically quiet." He stopped, his eyes flitting over my face, trying to gauge my reaction. "But one thing is certain, Zaroon does not trust me, neither does he want me anywhere near."

"You're an obvious threat." I said in a calm, quiet tone. Aliyaar didn't respond but shook his head in agreement. "If Ibrahim Taya does not contest the election, Dada Jaan will only be left with two choices. You or Zaroon Bhai."

"He'd obviously choose his blood."

"It's not that easy." I moved away from his embrace, pacing the length of the room in quiet thought. "After Dada Jaan's finally made Ibrahim Taya the CM, was so blinded by his ambitions to take over the party, he never prepared Zaroon Bhai to take over. He hasn't even contested an election before, how can he take over as the Chief Minister?"

A deep meditative silence lingered in the room, before I heard Aliyaar speak behind me, his voice suddenly suspicious. "Why are Shahzad and Zayan not in politics?"

"Ibrahim Taya secured his position from a very early age, he made sure my father was never allowed in politics. He was always the favoured son. When we grew up, Zaroon Bhai took over politics and Shahzad too over the business. This way their family was secured in every way."

"What about Zayan?"

"Dad really wanted his son to join politics, but with his non serious attitude and multiple scandals with girls and betting, Dada Jaan and Ibrahim Taya never allowed him to come in the public eye. Life in the public eye comes with responsibility, a responsibly neither Zayan was ready to take nor Dada Jaan willing to give." I sighed, before realisation dawned upon me. My marriage with Aliyaar gave my father a level playing field. After years, he finally had an opportunity to even the game. As the thought settled in a stab of satisfaction pierced through me.

I turned to him, determined, "My father would help us." I ran back, my hands holding onto his in excitement, "Dad would help us, Aliyaar. Dad would help us! Why did I not think of this before." I exclaimed. He stood still, confused at the sudden shift in my mood. "We will win this. We will show Dada Jaan you deserve this."

"But why would—"

"Yeh politics hai, yahan koi kisi ka nahi hota. Yeh sirf ek khel hai." I said, disgust burning my throat at the bitter reality of my words. "Our dream will come true." My eyes shone with excitement.

[this is politics, there are no relations here. It's only a game]

"Our dream?" His eyes shot up in surprise.

I gazed at him for a while, confused at his question, before it occurred to me. A soft smile played upon my lips and I nodded, "Yes, our dream. My future is now tied to yours. Your dreams are my dreams too." A prick of hurt stung my heart. Does he still not trust me? "I never wanted this life, but I never realised when you became my whole world, my everything."

A pang of guilt fanned his face, "I've hurt you." His eyes locked with mine, before he closed the distance between us. His palms cradled my face, his thumb drawing lazy circles against my jaw.

"Immensely. But you're not the first one. I don't care." I said drily, the hurt from earlier curling over me like a wave.

"But I care."

I remained quiet, enjoying the heat of his palms comforting me. "We can never have a normal relationship. No matter how hard we try." He spoke in a low broken voice. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But we cannot stop trying Jaan." My arms wound around his waist, as I leaned into him, my head resting against his bare chest. I felt him exhale at the endearment.

His hands slid behind my back, his head resting atop mine. "We cannot."

"I'm sorry for hurting you." I felt him kiss the crown of my head. "So sorry, my love."

When I pulled away, I saw him smiling down at me, and then he slowly leaned in and pressed his mouth against my side. He pecked me once on both cheeks, his eyes lingering on my lips.

"We should get some sleep." I grinned mischievously. "Perhaps it would calm the wild animal in you."

"Oh you haven't seen my wild side yet." He smirked suggestively, his nose rubbing against mine.

"Perhaps another day—"

A knock at the door, had us turning towards it. Aliyaar sighed, shaking his head, his arms loosening around me. But what happened next was something I wasn't prepared for.

Ahmed uncle stood outside our room, his face pensive and worried. "The Police Commission is here. The gun that shot Ibrahim is apparently registered under your name."

Some family feuds and politics beginning to crop up. Hope you all liked the chapter. Let me know your thoughts.

This chapter isn't edited. I'm extremely busy and hence unable to spare time to write or respond to you all. Please accept my apologies. I will try to update next Friday but I cannot make promises.

Until next time, keep me in your prayers. ♥️

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