For the literature Rawalpindi and Islamabad are twin cities. The geography also says so. But the vibe is poles apart. If Islamabad is cold, superficial with a deceptive yet alluring beauty; Pindi is just a normal city, as normal as it can get. It has the same easygoing energy with you'd get in any part of the country. Welcoming and hospitable.

That particular evening, Shamsabad was buzzing with the ever known hustle of a June evening. The congested and warm air was not very kind as the summer had just started setting in with its whole glory but when had weather precluded people from going on about their business. That'd be unnatural and Pindi is as natural as it is breathing.

"So you're sure hun?"

Fareed Haq's inquisitive voice droned on the sizzling of meat he was grilling. His small Shawarma and barbecue point was in full swing, business was pouring in and his favourite costumer happened to stand right in front of him.

"Positive. Baba is not going to come around easily but I think I'll be fine. Ammi is supporting my fully so are my sisters."

"But Army isn't easy to survive, young lad."

Hamid smiled but it had no hint of nervousness.

"I know and I'm fully prepared. Just pray for me, Chacha that I get the needed marks in ISSB tests."

"My best wishes are with you, son."

His expert hands were packing the two shawarmas ordered by Hamid. The intoxicating smell of grilled and fried food permeated in the air announcing to the far and near of their forgotten appetite. The local job owners who had just pulled down the shutter of their shops were making a beeline towards the food streets. Few affluent hotels had put on large screens to make the atmosphere more accommodating for their client body and at this time the 8 PM news bulletin was flashing across it. Hamid who had taken out his wallet to pay Fareed halted in the process. His line of vision was direct at the screen across him. Many other eyes were already glued there and someone did the right thing of increasing the volume.

"The new Pandora box is about to get opened."

"This is nothing short of what happens in movies."

"The man the nation mourned over months back, turns out isn't dead at all. Major Zaviyar Ali's death was a ugly little secret which has now come out of under the rug."

"The guy in question has been spotted in pretty haggard state outside of his grandfather's lavish house. If anyone doesn't know then we must tell you that his grandfather is none other than Yahya Duraid. The reports are suggesting there's so much behind this façade of a death and a press conference is soon taking place to let the nation know what has conspired."

To back their claim, the news channels were circulating a grainy photo of the army officer. The details were not visible but whoever had followed his death news and covering religiously, would know that it was him only. Hamid was one of those. He had no link with the guy, just the knowledge that he was an honest officer and had given his life for his country. Ever the army lover, Hamid had made Zaviyar his role model overnight. But now looking at the news, Hamid was not only shocked but both disappointed and pained as well.

The whispering among the masses had now turned into full on arguments, comments and even mock. Hamid collected his order and without uttering a word turned to his street to get to home.

The aspiring young guy was getting his first introduction to the dirty politics of his country and how it always takes innocents and honest people in his wrath.

But unlike Hamid, rest chose not to stay silent. People had been fed lies, made to believe a story which was a hoax. Now they were livid. They needed answers and more than that they wanted to know what had happened with the man they made their hero all those months back. They wanted to know what fate he was put into.

The chaos of Islamabad had reached Pindi leading to the whole country.

Chaos which spares no one.

________________

Iss waqt to yun lagta hai ab kuch bhi nahi hai

Mehtab na suraj, na andhera na swera

This time I feel there is nothing now

No moon, no sun, no dawn, no dusk

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Getting up from the bed where he had been lying down for almost two hours, Zaviyar looked at Harram who had finally gone to sleep. She had provided him with the warmth he was missing for so long. The gentle touch of her fingers through his unkempt hair. Her whispering to him that she was there. He needed this; Lord knows he needed this the most. His break down was inevitable. No matter how tough, but he was, after all a human who had been betrayed in the worst way possible. Which grandchild thinks his own grandfather would pronounce him dead in front of the world while keeping him away as a war prisoner?

He had waited for Harram to go to sleep. She was continuously checking up on him and doing the same she had rolled on the the side finally taking steady breaths. Zaviyar sighed looking at her curl up form. Her one hand was at his side which was empty now while the other was on her stomach and for Zaviyar's new knowledge, Harram would caress her bump every time she'd stir in her sleep. As if lulling their baby to sleep.

How'd she developed that habit? Was it a reaction of knowing that he wasn't there with both of them? To give both herself and her baby the needed consolation? The thought pierced something in his heart. This woman, who had been his most beautiful dream all his life and then the reality he cherished, had gone through hell and back just because she was his wife. How many false consolations she must've given herself to not feel the loss of losing him that much. Her sleep was not easy and carefree as she used to sleep before. While he was alert even in his sleep, Harram had been a heavy sleeper. He had far too many recollections of the incidents in his memory backing this observation. But now, she was so easily woken. Even during her sleep she was agitated. This was one of the so many changes he was seeing. They didn't have the time to sit down and contemplate on what had changed over the course of these passed months. Even their meeting each other in the haveli hadn't been that emotional. They had so much on their minds, so much to take care of, the baggage, the future planning, the look through what they had and what they needed to work on some more. They couldn't even give each other the welcome they both deserved. This situation needed to be tackled first. And now they were there, fighting everything that was coming their way. Fighting they were, both of them, since the moment he had been taken from his house and she had gotten the news of his martyrdom.

He stood close to the floor mirror. The intricate designing on the corners which wooden work was covered with dust. Telling another tale of how this home had been turned into just a house in the span of few months. He touched the grainy dust on his finger. The feel of it was mysteriously homely. This whole house was a proof of the storm that had come into its occupants' lives. The things were in disarray. The normal alignment was not to be found. Every nook and crook seemed to call him out towards them. How long had it been since he had looked through every corner with his eyes full of emotions? Like he wanted to capture everything his home was into his memory. Imprisonment does this to you. You remember those details of your normal life and everything in it you wouldn't spend two seconds on had the circumstances been normal. He raked a hand through his hair.

He hadn't let his mind wander to these imaginations where he'd conjure up the scenarios of him going back to his house. He was trying his best to escape but building those hopes was baseless and ridiculous knowing it was far from being true. But now, coming back to his own place and knowing that he had finally escaped that hell hole. It was numbing his mind. He still wasn't able to believe how far he had come. This would take its own time marking its mark. He took two steps back. His wife was sleeping on their bed; He was standing in the middle of their room which was breathing in the lights after God knows how many dark nights and days.

Harram and Zaviyar had come to their rightful place but after what? That's a story they'd need courage to narrate to others.

The fleeting voices coming from outside had gotten his attention. The media was lurking outside like bees searching for any scoop. He wasn't interested in entertaining anyone. Tomorrow's press conference would be memorable. There was a possibility that Yahya and co would try something knowing too well where Zaviyar and Harram were but Zaviyar knew all too well that this was not possible. It would Yahya in a bad light, something him and his oldie gang couldn't afford at this point. Zaviyar shook his head. Tomorrow.

Everything was going to change tomorrow.

But everything was already familiarly unfamiliar. So why to fret over it. What could go wrong now? Everything was already wrong.

________________

Aneesa pushed the terrace door wide open taking long drags of air in her lungs. Her ailing legs were shaking from the strenuous ascend of the stairs but she couldn't help it. This palace like house which had always been her safe heaven was closing off on her. She could see the walls coming towards her as if ready to crush her. She hadn't waited for anyone and ran upstairs as far as her speed could get her.

The dawn was upon her with the sun slowly showering the earth with its orange hue announcing that yesterday was a gone day now. Yesterday. Was yesterday real? She didn't think it was. How could it be? But the image of Zaviyar leaning against the door of Duraid house and then his painful revelations were proof enough that yes, yesterday was indeed true.

She had never seen eye to eye with her husband. Their famous feuds and arguments weren't always for nothing. Their ideologies in life and handling with things were different but still one thing they both could always agree upon was their love for their family.

But now? Things weren't the same they had been before. Not even close. It took them all some time to come out from their state of shock, so much that even the air of Zaviyar was gone. But the aftermath had stayed. So many questions were dancing in front of them and the answers could only come from Yahya. He hadn't given them the chance though. Before any of them could reach him, he had fled from the scene. The last of him they had heard was the screeching of his car and then the never ending wait which was still going on. These agonizing hours had messed up her mind in every way possible, so much that she felt it impossible to stay in her room. No one had tried talking to each other. Everyone was shaken from the happenings of yesterday and waiting for more to unfold.

Mrs. Aneesa put her hands on the railing and sighed. Closing her eyes she let the tears roll down. It was the first reaction she was showing other than complete agitation on what had happened. She hiccuped when the silhouette of someone passing through the huge lawns came into her view.

Khadija stood at the main entrance of Duraid house trying not to look back to the place she had called home for as long as she could remember. But it was what must be done. This wasn't her place anymore. It was with her son and daughter in law. With right. With truth.

Mrs. Aneesa wanted to call her back, she couldn't go. Why she was leaving home? But one glance in her way and Khadija had crossed the threshold and went out disappearing from sight. Mrs. Aneesa covered her face with her palms and cried bitterly.

The old house now stands abandoned

Where life once used to thrive

The old picket fence is broken

The roofs open to the sky

John Read, Ghosts of the past

__________________

Taking slow steps, Mrs Aneesa came downstairs when she found her missing husband lounging in their room. A frown was set on his face which had deepened seeing her.

"For all things that you are, coward isn't something I ever thought I'd be using for you. But this is coming out to be your personality now, Yahya."

He shook his head not liking her intrusion at all. Last night was a mess to say the least. He had straight gone to Honadir and there a huge showdown had ensued. Honadir had blamed him for such sorry state of events which was, to some extent true. He really had messed up. In his love for his family, which was mainly the control he had over them, he had proved to be a threat to their business. Khalid had also gotten an inkling that before going down, Bukhari had left important evidences with someone he trusted because nothing had been found from his house and his office. The proofs against Yahya were still not in their custody. It all pointed towards only one thing. Zaviyar had them all. His confidence with which he had come to Duraid House was telling. Everything was at stake. A situation which could easily be solved, Yahya Duraid had proven he was easily capable of twisting it. There was no way out and only foolproof planning could get them out of here safe and sound which was looking bleak at this point. Honadir had taken things in his hand and Yahya just had to act according to what Honadir was telling him. He had done enough damage and they couldn't afford more.

Yahya was not only pissed at the turn of events but also on his position in command being snatched away. All their lives, Honadir and him had been partners. No one was working under the other. They both had their roles to play and they did it impeccably. But now things were different and Yahya was seeing how it had affected everything.

"I'm not in the mood, Aneesa."

"You don't get to do this anymore! I need answers! All of us do and don't you dare shut us up! Your dead grandson was at his house yesterday! Can anything get twisted than this? And he blamed you for everything! Explain yourself, Yahya I won't have any other bullshit of yours!"

Her voice had sounded like this after years. She was not here to play. Her family was in shambles and this was never acceptable by Aneesa Yahya Duraid.

_______________

Gull hadn't waited for Ismail knowing too well he wouldn't come back home. Instead she had come to the place she knew he'd be at. Walking towards his cabin in the silent ambiance of Duraid Industries, she found his office lights on and heaved a sigh. Hamail was at his apartment with Meeral. Sohaira was shaken up so instead of keeping her in the toxic environment of Duraid house, Hamail had taken her along. She was continuously asking to meet Zaviyar and Hamail had promised her in the morning he'd definitely take her there. Her kids had gotten each other so it was her, here to see how her husband was doing. All her anger at him aside, she needed to check up on him.

Ismail was sitting on his chair with his hair in his palm while his head was bent down. His stance was the same of any defeated man's would be.

"Redemption out of time holds no meaning, Ismail."

Gull stood in front of him holding her arms on her chest. Ismail looked up with blood shed eyes.

"You think that informing Harram about the doom that was about to hit her, all your sins have been forgiven?"

He didn't show any motion. Gull leaned forwards with pity laced with contempt shadowing her beautiful features.

"You know what your father and your problem is? You both thrive on power that comes with control. Imagine, Hamail in Zaviyar's place? You can't because Hamail has you, his father backing him. A support Zaviyar didn't have. You are the same part of the society, Ismail which never lets an orphan live all his life. You guys did what you did with Zaviyar because you knew you could, because he was the kid who had no one other than a mother and how difficult it'd be to shut her up?"

She shook her head. Hamail had been honest with both her and Soha. He had narrated them the whole saga starting from Zaviyar's death. It was not something Gull didn't know her husband and father in law could do, but to think that they had the audacity to actually go with it had unsettled her. Zaviyar and his small family had faced more than they deserved. More than they'd ever deserved.

"You should've straighten your act when your brother had died, Ismail. You promised you'd leave your father's side but you never kept your promises. Now see, where you are. Your kids hate you. If not you they hate the idea of you. What did you get? Nothing. You are alone."

Ismail didn't try to stop the sobs that shook him. He broke down in front of the same woman he had made to cry many times in his life.

She kept on sitting, not once reaching out to console him.

______________

Hamail stopped the car in front of the familiar house and glanced at Soha who was struggling with her seat belt.

"Easy!"

"Shut up, Hamail. Don't you think I'm not mad at you! But right now I need to meet my brother so let me get away from this damned belt!"

Even in this grave situation his lips had curled up at her response. In next few milliseconds, she was out of the car and almost running towards the main door.

Harram had already been informed by Meeral that Soha was coming so she was already standing close to the door. She had deliberately not told Zaviyar. He'd definitely go to overprotective brother mode as there were few media people lurking about the house. She hadn't forgotten how worked up Zaviyar had gotten when Khadija had gotten here in the wee hours of morning.

Harram had opened the door at first knock. Sohaira glanced at her tearfully and roamed her eyes around.

"He's in the lounge."

The man in question wasn't unaware of the commotion outside. He had come out with confusion etched on his face but seeing the teary face of Sohaira, he had stood there. She wiped her tears harshly and the next moment had hugged him like she'd do when they were kids and Hamail would tease her.

Zaviyar sighed not liking the way she was sobbing. Both the brothers had this one pampered. She had always gloat in the fact that her both brothers doted on her but the love she had for them wasn't just nothing. The depth of which was now on full display the way she was crying and making everyone cry around her.

"I wasn't even here! Those were the hardest days of my life, Bhai! And to think that it was all just a facade. Our emotions, our suffering was made a joke! Sick!"

She mumbled through Zaviyar's shirt whose hold on her had increased. This was just one tale of despair and gloom he was coming to know. Every family member of his must've something else to tell him. How a man singlehandedly played with them all? The resolve which was already iron strengthened some more. Yahya Duraid needed to go down not only because of his crimes but also for the way he had tormented his own family.

________________

The clock struck eleven. The workers checked the mikes last time while setting the chairs. The media personnel had already taken their seats. There were more of them than expected but it was justified seeing the status of the case that was about to unfold in front of the whole nation.

Zaviyar clutched the file in his hand securely while waiting for the cue that things were ready. His steady rhythm of heartbeat was an indication of how unfazed he was. Unstoppable. Unyielding. Here to destroy the world of those who made him a nobody in his own.

The cue had come. He nodded in Waleed's way who patted his shoulder. They both opened the doors of the press club. There were few gasps here and there. Seems like few people weren't hoping for him to be actually there. Well he wasn't sorry to disappoint.

He took his designated seat and looked at the expectant faces of the people in front of him. The camera flashes and recording devices were on but still there was no talking in the hall. Zaviyar leaned towards the mike.

"Asslam Alaikum. Thank you for coming here and showing your enthusiasm on the whereabouts of a dead man. I truly appreciate it."

Few chuckled, few just remained silent.

"I have a very long story to tell you all about how this got so twisted. How a man who was shown to be dead but wasn't actually dead after all. Yes, some of you are probably thinking of some soap opera mumbo jumbo but it's not on me. This wasn't my planning. Instead my dearest Grandfather gave his career best performance. Wanna know how? I'll tell you."

His stance had told them he hadn't come to play and next half and hour proved it.

He hadn't come to play. He had come to destroy.

________________

Harram had never admired this man's nerves like she was doing now. How calm, composed yet lethal he was looking on the TV. His mere sentences were ending Yahya Duraid and Khalid Aslam's careers. The media was attentive towards him and he was making sure to fill them in everything they should run on their channels.

She leaned into Khadija who was as proud of him. His strength was admirable. He hadn't crumbled, hadn't cried, and hadn't tried to gain sympathy. He was a true warrior out there fighting his case.

His allegations had straight come to Yahya Duraid and his claim that he had evidences which would straight go to court had proven how prepared he was. The media was curiously asking him twisted questions, about his family, his wife, the period of being hostage there in the mountains and he was answering every question of theirs with out most honesty. He was true when he had said he was going to win this war in his own way. He won't use Yahya Duraid's approach.

"My wife has been the real support for me. She was the person who suspected things were not as they were looking from outside. I had left few clued before I was captured, hoping that someone, preferably her would look through those and she did, singlehandedly joined the dots and did more than I was expecting her to be. She was deadly attacked two days back which now you all should know whose doing can be. Fortunately, she is fine and in a safe place now. She, with help of my friend and colleague, Major Waleed Ibrar and my mentor and direct commander of my unit, Colonel Bukhari, unveiled some truths which as I have said earlier will be presented to the court. But one thing is for sure, Colonel Bukhari has been framed and the court would know seeing the evidences that we have whose behind this."

In another corner of the city, Khalid Aslam loosened the knot of his tie with his eyes wavering from the TV screen. He looked to his right where Honadir Sahni was engrossed in the press conference with his cigar in his mouth and the puffs getting up high in air just like the smoke Zaviyar was making out of Yahya Duraid's name.

Honadir had nothing to say to Khalid at this moment. His mind was in overdrive. Though, he hadn't been mentioned yet and he had an idea that Zaviyar and co hadn't reached his involvement as of now, still with the kind of evidences they had it won't be long. He'd have to help these two fuckers in getting hold of this situation because a deep investigation and he'd be brought in as well. His idea of leaving them to fend for themselves was not going to work. He'd have to save them in order to save himself. He would do it. Yahya Duraid's grandson was far more intelligent than him but he also had Honadir Sahni in front of him. He better be ready.

____________

The voices coming from the TV were the only thing that could be heard in Duraid House. Yahya Duraid, like any other loser gambler was sat in his sofa and watching the press conference which was going to be the top headline for days to come.

He hadn't beat about the bush when his wife had asked him to explain himself. He was tired of being the good guy for this jungle of morons. He had shouted at top of his voice telling them all yes! He was what Zaviyar told them he was. He had shocked his daughters and his wife. But he didn't care at this point. He had given them the ultimatum to choose their sides and leave him the heck alone.

Now he was watching his grandson aka his biggest enemy on screen and planning his next move. He'd save himself. He had always. He'd definitely will this time too. But the shaking glass of water in his hand was telling another story.

______________