Tumhe kis ne kaha tha?

Dopehar kay garam sooraj ki taraf daikho

Aur itni der tak daikho

Kay benai pighal jaye

(Who asked you?

To look at the scorching sun of the noon

And to look at it for so long

That your sight will melt)

Tumhe kis ne kaha tha?

Asman se tooti andhi ulajti bijliyo se

Dosti kar lo

Aur itni dosti kar lo

Kay ghar ka ghar hi jal jaye

(Who told you?

To befriend the mad lightning from the horizon

And to befriend them so much

That your whole house turn into ashes)

Even after having a fulfilling life so far, there were many things Harram Obaid hadn't yet experienced, most of which she had no desire of experiencing as well. That was before she had become Harram Zaviyar Ali. Her almost two year old married life had made her see and witness things she'd never thought of. As she looked around the courtroom commotion, Harram decided this wasn't her favourite setting but it was still better than having a fake funeral of her husband.

Yasir Athar was standing in front of the judge panel completing his arguments. He had brought forward Sheraz's death and Muskan had gone up to give her statement. Maybe it was only Harram's imagination, but the woman looked visibly conflicted. The incident from earlier was fresh in Harram's mind. She vowed to ask Muskan what was wrong after the proceeding. Yasir Athar had gone back to his seat. He had given the court a clear view of this case. Everything was out in front of everyone. It was up to judges to believe it or not. He had also quoted many past incidents of Yahya Duraid's wrong doings. It was the opposite side's turn now.

Harram eyed Mehmood Chaudhary with disdain on her face. The man was the reason she was here. He had requested the court to bring her forward as he wanted to interrogate her. The request wasn't something Yasir found unusual. He even prepared Harram for the kind of questions he thought Mehmood could ask. Still, Harram wasn't at peace. Zaviyar's constant reassurances had helped her but the fear of something going wrong was giving her constant worry.

"Impressive."

Mehmood Chauhary exclaimed sarcastically once he was given the signal to start with his defense. Harram's hand found Zaviyar immediately. He caressed her knuckles trying to sooth her. His own mind was calculating every move of Mehmood. The man had come prepared this time around.

"I request to call Safina Bibi here once again."

He was granted permission. Safina who looked on edge reached the witness box. She was under the security of Waleed and his men, the reason why she was still away from Yahya Duraid's clutches.

"My apologies that you have to come here again. Last time you told us how Major Zaviyar Ali was kept hostage in his own house basement. For how long was he there if I may ask?"

Safina thought for a few seconds.

"One and a half week at most."

"And that pretty long period, no one did come to know about something unusual happening in the house?"

"Everyone was in mourning. Also, the basement isn't the place the family members visit frequently. It's filled with old stuff of no use to anyone."

"It's hard to believe that a person is kept in the house but no one even bat an eyelash, no one comes to know."

Khadija narrowed her eyes. This lawyer was twisting the situation the way he wanted to. During that time, it would be days for them to get out of their rooms. They all were shaken up. In all this, what's happening in the part of the house no one visits even in normal circumstances, was of no importance. It had been years Khadija had herself gone down to the basement.

"I've told you everyone was busy and down with their own worries. I was also instructed to keep people away from that area. Only once Harram Baji came there and..."

"Wait a second! Mrs. Harram came there?"

Safina nodded meekly. Yasir Athar looked ahead with a tight lipped expression. Zaviyar's hold on Harram's hand had tightened comfortably.

"Why did she come there?"

"I don't know. She was moving around the house and then came to the pillar leading to the basement."

"What did she do then?"

"Nothing. She was just curious about the place."

Mehmood's smile had widened. He gestured to Safina to go back and turned to the judge.

"I'd like to have Mrs. Harram on here. She can give us a better insight into what actually happened there."

This was inevitable. The way he was steering the conversation towards her was enough to tell what he wanted to do. Blame games had been their strategy so far, a typical card for politicians to pull. First, it was Zaviyar and now Harram was also being pulled in this mud.

Even though her heart was beating erratically, Harram held her head high and walked towards the stand.

"I'm sorry. You have to come in this condition."

His face and tone were contradicting his apologetic tone.

"I've been up to more daring things in this condition so save your breath and start with your interrogation."

She was never the one to beat about the bush.

"Certainly. According to your lawyer, you were the first person from Zaviyar's family who came to know something fishy was going on. How did it happen?"

"I have eyes and they function quite fine. I looked into some details others thought of nothing."

"Did you find your husband in the basement?"

"Your client made sure I wouldn't. Safina was specially asked to keep everyone away."

"We'll see about that. There was a deadly attack on your car a few days back. According to my information, the assault was meant for you but when the authorities reached the mutilated car was without its owner. Was it a hoax or you got really very lucky?"

Harram's confidence faltered just a bit. Yasir had warned her about this question. Answering it would be like going towards a dead end.

"I was informed five minutes prior to the attack."

"Who must be that angel among us mere mortals?"

She glanced in Zaviyar's direction who just nodded to go on. Admitting to Ismail's involvement would open another Pandora box but lying would make Harram's role in all this sketchy and they would never want that. Not on any cost.

"Ismail Ali had called me."

"Pardon! Ismail Ali. Your husband's uncle who also happens to be an accomplice to Yahya Duraid as your lawyer has stated."

"The same."

"Mrs. Harram, you are an educated woman. Don't you think for any outsider, for example me, this looks really shady? You were the first person who came to know about Major Zaviyar's abduction by some clues left by him of course. You were also working with Colonel Bukhari to trace Zaviyar. A fatal attack happens but you come out of it without any injuries. Either you are very lucky or your cock and bull story has to be modified to make it a bit realistic."

All the people sitting behind her shifted in their seats. Harram smiled sardonically and looked right into Mehmood's eyes.

"I can't make coffee. Not my thing. The letter my husband left me had that as a clue. Why could only I detect it? Because I live with him. Every wife knows her husband that much. I hope yours also does otherwise you wouldn't be this surprised. I've gone to places and people I had never thought I would just because I knew my husband was out there somewhere. You wouldn't understand this neither I hope you do. My call history will have that 38 seconds talk I had with Ismail Ali that night. Proving me a liar isn't going to work. Better put this work in proving your client is saying the truth."

The left from there knowing there wasn't anymore to this. He was successful in making their statements doubtful. The heavy air around her matched the feeling of dread she had in her very existence. There were no wrong moves from their side but the opponent had also played well.

_______________

Waleed ran a hand through his hair fiddling with the steering. Muskan glanced at his anxious form and sighed.

"Do you have a cigarette?"

Her out of the blue question had taken him off guard. They were outside of Zaviyar and Harram's place. The hearing had ended some time back and since the previous zeal of having the situation under controlled wasn't there, they all were somber and solemn. Muskan had sat with Waleed in his car. Her own dilemma was adding to this new situation.

"That's an unhealthy coping mechanism. Besides, I'm an army officer and..."

He was in the middle of his speech when Muskan opened the dashboard and took his cigarette and lighter out.

"Just one!"

He warned her who ignored it like a pro.

"Are you married?"

She was surely not herself today. Waleed eyed her weirdly and nodded in affirmation.

"That explains the unhealthy coping mechanism."

Waleed chose not to comment on it. The matter was private and a bit sensitive for him. The inside of the car was soon filled with rings of smoke in which Muskan was trying to dissolve her worries. Waleed rolled down the window scrunching his nose but worrying for her as well.

"Are you okay?"

"Not really."

She admitted without any qualms.

"What it is, you can talk it out if you like."

She snorted. She was of the view that men aren't good listeners. They weren't good at anything for that matter. She had seen their only face in her world which was filled with lust. But after joining these people in their mission she witnessed a new side to men she hadn't seen before. They were capable of loving, caring and feeling. And now one of them wanted to listen to her sappy tale. Too bad she wasn't interested in sharing the story of her soul being lost somewhere in the sheets of her room back there in Qasai Gali.

"I want to tell Harram something. In fact, I want to tell you all something. I'm just preparing myself for it."

Waleed opened his mouth to say something but then thought against it. She should be the one making the call what she wanted to do. So far in this situation they had in hand, she had been nothing but help. So, it was only fair on their part to give her space when she was asking for it. He nodded slowly and waited for her to finish so they could go inside.

_____________

Splashing the water on her face, Harram let the coolness of it wash away her anger mixed with worry. She took hold of the basin from both sides and composed herself. She didn't have the heart to go out just yet. But she had a worried husband waiting who was continuously making sure she was doing okay.

"Harram!"

His gentle voice had her reeling back from the daze of her dread.

"Just a minute."

She answered softly and making sure she was somewhat better, opened the door. Zaviyar held her from her shoulders leading to the couch. Harram looked sideways at him.

"Is it all over?"

Her mumble made him sigh.

"Not yet. Not even close. We knew this could happen, Harram. Don't fret."

His assurances hadn't stopped all the way back home either but Harram was as unsure as she was before. They were trying to prove her and Zaviyar manipulators and storytellers. Something which was far from the truth. The fact that even after walking through hell they could still lose it all was messing her brain.

"You should res..."

But she cut him.

"No! I want to sit with everyone. I want to know what you all are thinking now."

Zaviyar nodded. He knew she wanted to know how far this could mess things for them and how much things were still under control. Both made their way towards the lounge where everyone was.

"To get this situation sorted, we need Dad to back us. Harram's call record will be of no use if Dad's not there to prove it."

Hamail was frustrated to say the least. His father had left Duraid House a few days back and since then no one knew where he went. Even Gull was oblivious of his whereabouts. Gull was staying with Hamail and was more than willing to help but for that they'd have to know where Ismail was.

Zaviyar was still silent. Ismail Ali was involved in every bad that had happened to him but he looked like the only person who wasn't pleased or satisfied by it. His body language and conflict on his face had always told he wasn't in agreement with this. His helping Harram had been the biggest proof. He had saved her life, still he was part of all this, so he would get his due accordingly. No one could prevent it no matter what.

Everyone was giving their opinion but Sohaira stood silent by the window. She hadn't taken any part in the ongoing conversation. Her mind was working in overdrive. She had an idea but she was not sure if it could work. Whatever her mind was telling her she couldn't share with anyone. Not yet. It was way too risky. But she knew what she had to do now.

The attention had turned to Waleed and Muskan who had just entered the lounge.

"Where did you two go off to?"

Hamail asked, looking confused. Muskan took a deep breath. That was it. It was the time.

"I want to tell you all something. I should've earlier but we had an important court session coming and I didn't want to divert the attention and worry you all unnecessarily."

Harram's whole focus was on Muskan. She wanted to tell her if she wasn't comfortable, this could wait but before she could do that Muskan had reached her side only.

"Harram, the picture you were looking at the other day on your laptop...I know that...man."

Even bringing him up in a conversation was taking a toll on her but Muskan knew this needed to be done.

Harram pulled her hand and made her sit on the sofa looking confused. Muskan knew that guy? How?

"When I was pulled into the hell I call my profession, he was...kind of a VIP guest there. The brothel...brother authorities used to worship the floor he walked on. The in charge of the place, Resham Bai had special ties with him."

She looked around everyone and lowered her head.

"He had a fetish of....young,...untouched girls. And Resham Bai provided him with that in...abundance. I should've told you this before but I was trying to gain enough strength. The man is important. Filthy rich. Also, he has political ties. I know this much because I was one of those who were given to him by Resham Bai."

By the time she had finished, every face in the room was contorted into a range of expressions. From sympathy to rage. From remorse to pain. Harram's teary eyes met her as she hugged her sideways. Zaviyar was standing with hardened expressions so was Waleed. Being the sworn defenders of the people, this humiliation of humanity was unacceptable to them. Meeral had moved closer to Hamail. Her eyes were also shining with unshed tears. Zara and Khadija were in shock. The woman in front of them had endured literal hell.

"You are never going back there! I promise you."

Harram's steely determination brought a smile to Muskan's face. No one asked her anything anymore. They knew how hard it must have been for her to come forward with her life trauma, something no human should go through. This is a fucked up world we live in. The discrimination had brought us on the verge of falling down and drowning in to nothingness but we won't stop still.

"None of you have asked but his name is Honadir Sahni. If he's of any importance in this case I'd be happy to help."

Her tone was casual but Harram had stopped whatever she was doing. The wheels in her mind were working quickly.

HS.

HS.

Honadir Sahni.

A flash of recognition shot through Harram who immediately looked at Zaviyar and seemed like he wasn't behind in joining the dots. The repeated initials in Sultan Bakht's file. Honadir Sahni. HS.

Zaviyar took his car keys from the table and gestured to Waleed to come with him.

"Is there anyone we can go to know about his whereabouts?"

He asked Muskan who had, by now understood from their body language that he was someone important for them.

"I'll go with you."

"No, you'll stay here. We don't want anything to trigger you more than it already has."

"I'm the person who has come from there! You'll need me! Trust me I'll be okay."

Zaviyar was reluctant but she was right. They needed her assistance. He turned to Harram who shook her head.

"I won't insist on going along. Just be safe. All of you."

She watched them making their way out of the house. Harram sent a prayer to the Almighty to keep things in their favour.

__________________

"Finally something an old man can celebrate!"

The wine glass clanked with the arm of the chair Honadir was sitting in. Mehmood Chaudhary's smug face was morphed into a sinister smile after briefing Honadir on today's hearing. Khalid Aslam was playing the role of a silent spectator. His own case opening in military court in a few days was enough to keep him occupied. In all this, Yahya Duraid was the most detached person from his surroundings, even though the celebration was in his honour only.

"You don't seem happy, Yahya. Feeling dejected for your grandson?"

Honadir asked, raising an eyebrow. In truth, since the beginning of the trial, Yahya's confused condition was a question mark for them all. Maybe it was the family aspect which was keeping him on edge but the confidence Yahya Duraid used to boast off was gone. He was always faltering no matter how much he posed to be in control of the situation. Honadir didn't care though. As long as this case was turning out to be in their favour, they were good. Moreover, Zaviyar and co hadn't yet traced him. Things were feeling to be in control after what felt like ages.

"I just think it's too early to celebrate. We haven't won anything yet."

Yahya's serious tone made Honadir laugh. All their professional years together, Honadir was the one looking into details, worrying about what was and what would be. This time around the roles had been reversed much to Honadir's amusement.

"Easy, that is also not far. Your coward of a son will never stand against you. We've got this."

It was true. Even after having objections to everything Yahya did, Ismail had no other option than to play along. They weren't worried about Ismail anyway. Chickening out and hiding away, total Ismail behavior and he had stayed true to this. No one knew where he was. As long as he stayed in whichever hell he had chosen for himself, things would stay in hand. Yahya was just worrying unnecessarily. They had got this.

_______________

The wooden railing of the balcony wasn't new to Sohaira. Neither were the white curtains dancing on the tunes of the wind. The small house in the busy locality of Pindi stood tall in the boiling heat of June. She sighed, and opened the door and entered inside. She had informed the inhabitant she was coming to visit and to her not so surprise, the man in question was sitting on the couch in the small but well kept lounge.

"I almost thought you'd forbid me to come and see you."

Her voice held a mixture of pain and longing. Ismail Ali shifted in his seat not being able to bear his daughter's questioning stare.

"When all this will end, I'll need to tell myself again and again that my father wasn't a coward, just to give it feel of the truth."

Her accusing tone and cutting words had put a pained smile on Ismail's face.

"You can say. You aren't the one whose life is at stake here."

He stood up. His gait was defeated. Sohaira looked away. Her perception of her father had been broken like a mirror. From his involvement is Zaviyar's kidnapping to him being involved in all the dirty business of their grandfather. On top he chose to run.

When she was a kid, having a normal life was Sohaira's dream. Her family was famous in both political and business sector and this made her part of this country's elite class. She hated it. She had often expressed her desire of being a normal person with normal worries of life. Ismail had first laughed at this. Then he came up with an idea. Spending few days in a normal and somewhat mediocre setting, enjoying the perks of middle class life. Hamail thought of it as a cool game, Gull was happy that her kids would see life from a different point of view. They all had spent a week in this house and by the end of it Sohaira was sure no matter how much she hated it but she was born into a lavish lifestyle and she was so used to it that something else would never work.

The thing got old. Everyone forgot about her weird childhood obsession. What stayed in her life was this house and her link with it. She had come here many times. For having some peace in her running life. What she had never thought of this place as her father's hide out.

"They need you in the court, Dad."

Ismail's hand stopped. He was pouring juice for her from the carton.

"Not happening."

"They are in this situation because of you."

"I tried helping them. I called Harram, didn't I? What more can I do?"

"That was the bare minimum, Dad! Seeing Harram was in that situation because of you and your father only!"

"The most I can do in all this is not going to the bad side, Soha. My father will protect me. I just have to announce my allegiance to him. But I'm not doing it. I can't stand against you all. You, Hamail and Zaviyar. Basically my whole family. So, I'm trying to be impartial here."

"This is practically equal to siding with Dada! Of what use this impartiality of yours will be to us when it's your presence which can change things for us!"

Ismail's conflicting feelings weren't hidden from Soha. It was her theory that her father would be here and it proved right. She had lied to both Harram and Hamail before coming here. In her heart she knew if her father chose this house to stay then not much was lost. It was once their happy place. They had made beautiful memories here. He could be persuaded. That thoughtful father was still there somewhere in him.

"I miss having my father close you know."

She whispered looking at nothing in particular.

"But the thought that my niece or nephew who hadn't even been born yet, would've missed having a father at all because mine wasn't strong enough kills me every single day of my life. You know who did whom dirty. You know who is at fault. You also know your own mistakes, Dad. Then why can't you accept those? Why can't you be on our side? Those actions of your father cost a family so much! We don't know how many more families are suffering because of him! You think that Zaviyar Bhai came under radar but we all are invincible? Do you really think if we stand against Dada he'll spare us? No way Dad! Zaviyar Bhai was the apple of his eye but see where it got him. Wake up, Dad! Nothing's lost yet! Your one statement can change so much! Don't deny yourself this chance at redemption!"

Sohaira was crying by now. Ismail's face was stoic and hands had balled at his sides. Sohaira eyed him accusingly and wiped her tears.

"The next hearing is in three days. It's going to be the decisive one. It's up to you now. Do whatever you want to but remember one thing, Dad. The door will be closed from your side because if you don't help us, everything will be over. The hope in our hearts that you can come back, as well."

She took hurried steps and closed the door behind her. Ismail felt the click echoing in his ears. He was sure the reverberation won't leave him soon.

__________________

Houses with chipped off paint, narrow lanes overflowing with heaps of garbage and kids playing around those oblivious of their surroundings, the setting was nothing short of a slum. Only it was the residence of the women this society never accepts. The area was away from the fine building they had first met Muskan in. It was a stark contrast, or maybe a bitter reality. From outside the place is echoing of smiles and regal beauty but from inside, it is marked with broken dreams and hopes which pierce close the kohl of the eye.

Zaviyar was silently following Muskan's instructions. It was his first time visiting here and the hardened jaw and set scowl were indication enough of his turmoil. Seeing this injustice, this discrimination wasn't something he could look past.

"To the right. Next to the shop."

Muskan pointed across. Zaviyar nodded and with some difficulty parked the car closeby. The shopkeeper had stopped his work and was now curiously noting every move of theirs.

"Is it Resham Bai's home?"

Muskan asked the man who ignored her question. He was too busy ogling at her.

"She's asked a question, dumbass!"

Waleed bellowed, bringing the guy back to the earth. He looked between the two of them on both sides of Muskan and his smile deepened some more but still he managed to nod. Muskan sighed and without any prior notice, pushed the

a wooden fragile door opened. Zaviyar and Waleed exchanged a look and followed her inside. It was really not a fine way of greeting someone but desperate times call for desperate measures. They were beyond following any code of ethics at this point.

"Resham Bai!"

Muskan called out. The small hallway was covered with dirt. The bricks were at the brink of breaking into pieces. The crunching beneath their shoes was giving the whole setting an eerie feeling. The hallway opened into a small room with just a few pieces of furniture. To one side, a poor excuse of a kitchen stood, filled with used utensils. The place was whispering of destitution, hunger and neglect.

"Who's here?"

From behind the sink a voice reached them. Muskan took a step forward because only she knew the woman and could assure her it wasn't a break in.

"It's me. Muskan."

The silhouette of a lean figure moved and the next moment the woman came under the direct view of the low hanging bulb with yellow light. Her face was covered with wrinkles. Cheap clothing was thrown over her malnourished body. Her hollow

eyes were taking in the appearance of Muskan and the two men with her as if placing them from her memory. Too bad she didn't know she hadn't met them before.

"Muskan....never thought I'd see you again."

"Seeing you once more wasn't even at the bottom of my wish list to be honest. But we are here to ask you something."

"Questions are free but answers come with a price."

"Haven't changed even a bit have you?"

"Look around. I've gotten a downgrade in every sense. I have to milk every opportunity I get."

"In our business, age and wasting beauty are the biggest bane. You taught us this all our lives."

Resham Bai laughed. The hollowness of it wasn't hard to pick.

"What do you know about Honadir Sahni?"

Waleed had spoken ending the ongoing debate. Muskan looked away while Resham Bai raised an eyebrow.

"Sahni. Been ages since I even heard his name."

"But you know him!"

Muskan countered getting angry.

"I never said I don't know him. I don't really see him around anymore. Advancing age must be catching up to him or else he wouldn't stay away from this area."

The wistfulness in her voice was disgusting.

"We need everything you know about him. No ambiguous stories, no beating about the bush. Just facts."

The seriousness in Zaviyar's voice and his no nonsense attitude had the desired effect. Resham Bai nodded meekly.

"He was our special guest, Muskan must've told you. Used to visit this place a lot a few years back. Many times his contacts saved us from raids. He had that kind of approach. Almost all the time. And in return he would just ask what he wanted from us."

She glanced in Muskan's way who wasn't showing anything on her face but her insides were being slashed again and again. Virgins. The vile man was usually the first to get his hands on those who'd fall prey to this mess of a place where humans had no more value than a showpiece. Muskan knew because she was one of those.

"Do you know where we can find him?"

"No one knows. He never gave away much. Just his desire to have his demands fulfilled."

Coming here was looking futile now. Nothing told to them so far had a substantial proof to it. All truth yet all talks. No one would believe any of it.

"The man was a manipulator but he was generous with money. The quality I liked the most. He once gave Manzoor a task and after fulfilling it we didn't have to worry for our expenses for months to come."

She was reminiscing about the good old days. Muskan gestured to Zaviyar and Waleed to get the hell out of here. This woman's blabbering was messing her brain.

"Reshma!"

The upcoming voice had alarm to it.

"Don't fret, Manzoor. They aren't here to cause harm."

The man, Manzoor, came out from the inside chamber. His face was pale with fear, something Zaviyar found absurd.

"That's Manzoor. My..."

"Partner. Once your trusted servant and then a companion of your old age. We know."

Muskan's bored tone suggested how done she was but Zaviyar wasn't focusing on any of it. His attention was on Manzoor who was eyeing him with wide open eyes. Years of experience were helping Zaviyar gauging the man's reaction. In an instant Manzoor got up and leapt towards the door only to be stopped by Zaviyar's death grip. Resham Bai shrieked while Waleed reached the door immediately lest Manzoor should escape. Zaviyar adjusted his hold on the man who was struggling like his life depended on it. Coming here wasn't such a disappointment after all.

_______________

Away from the chaos of the capital city, the summer had come silently in the far and near of the compound in the mountains. A still healing Ghiyas was overlooking the arrangements being done. This was their last day here in the agency. They were leaving for good. It was Yahya Duraid's special order to evacuate the place as soon as possible. Be discreet and give it the look of an abandoned hideout not in anyone's use. Ghiyas wasn't unaware of the legal process going on. It was all over the media these days. Also, that grandson of Yahya Duraud had gotten himself into Ghiyas' list of the people he'd rather smother in their sleep. Yahya Duraid wasn't easy to grant forgive. The escape of Zaviyar had taken him off guard, that's why he couldn't do much to Ghiyas. Ghiyas was sure his death sentence was coming but he got saved. Now was the right time to do as instructed and get himself in Yahya Duraid's good books again.

"Hurry up! We haven't gotten all day!"

They had to take care of all the potential evidence so that the claim of Zaviyar's lawyer of him being kept at a remote area in the mountain ranges should be refuted. Ghiyas was sure they'd be able to pull this off.

The carton of arms a worker was pulling hit the ground getting out of his grip. Ghiyas swore under his breath. He wanted this work to be over as soon as possible.

"Use your eyes!"

The worker had fallen down to his knees. Ghiyas was walking towards him to give him a piece of his mind when he stopped in his tracks.

The weird angle on which the man was bent said so much. Everything of which was wrong. Ghiyas' hand moved towards his hostler but it was too late. The cold metal of the gun pressed to his neck. He slowly turned around.

Ten or more armed officers of the military had surrounded the area. Ghiyas tried moving but the pressure of the gun increased further.

"Game over, Ghiyas-ud-Deen."

The stillness in the air was echoing so much going wrong for Yahya Duraid in near future.

Miles away, in the military holding, the door to the cell opened and a man in uniform pushed the tray of food in. The smell of half cooked meal wasn't appealing. Not by any means but still the person inside held the tray quickly. He unfolded the loaf. The white paper chit was almost glued to it. Peeling it off, the simple tick mark on it made Colonel Bukhari smile like a Cheshire cat.

The work was done. Yahya Duraid's holding in the mountains was under army custody. He looked around the bars he was surrounded with. He never hated these. Not really.

______________

Making sure Manzoor wasn't able to wriggle out of Waleed's hold, Zaviyar sat in front of the man ready for him to spill why he tried to run.

"Are....are you here to kill me?"

Sweat beads had appeared on his forehead. Zaviyar scowled. Why'd he think that?

"Depends, did you do anything which would make me go for it?"

Manzoor's face had gone paler.

"I swear....I swear I didn't want to do it! I was forced into it! Please don't kill me! Please!"

The man's rambling was out of Zaviyar's understanding but the wheels in his head had started turning. Something was surely up.

"Manzoor! He won't kill you! Man up."

Resham Bai hissed seeing Manzoor sweating like a pig.

"You don't understand! Yahya Duraid has sent him. I can tell! He's here to kill me! All these years of hiding in this dungeon with you gone to waste! He's found me."

"And why do you think Yahya Duraid has sent me?"

Zaviyar asked, looking interested. So, his grandfather had dirty business here as well. Fantastic.

"Stop playing word games with me! Tell him I didn't want to do it! Sahni...yes Sahni...he made me! He did it!"

The cat was almost out of the bag. Waleed kicked the man making him yelp.

"We are not sent here by Yahya! But we sure as well will be happy to get rid of you. Tell us the whole thing!What did you do for Honadir against Yahya!"

The man was visibly relieved that they weren't Yahya's men but their deadly expressions were still making him cower.

"Speak up!"

Waleed's shout had the impact they were hoping for. Manzoor had started bawling his eyes out.

"I was Resham's trusted servant and partner. Had a criminal record as well. Sahni knew me. He approached me with a task he thought I was suited for."

His lips quivered but one look at the two men in front of him and he started again.

"I...I was to go to Duraid House as a driver. Once settled there, I was instructed to look for an opportunity and...and fail the brakes of a car. The car used by Zaigham Ali."

The room had suddenly filled with a stillness which was indicating a storm.

"I..I did! The man got into an accident. Died. Honadir had something to do with the car's investigation as well. No one came to know it was a plotted murder! Not even Yahya Duraid! Sahni paid me well and after a few days I resigned from the job. But deep down I always knew that Yahya Duraid would find out..I.."

He stopped and started wheezing with a cough. Resham Bai was at his side immediately. Muskan and Waleed exchanged a worried look seeing Zaviyar's clenched jaw and face which was giving out nothing but everything at the same time.

"Is this Honadir Sahni?"

He took out the printed photo from his pocket and held it out in front of Manzoor and Resham Bai. Manzoor wasn't in a condition to reply but Resham nodded meekly.

"Zav..."

Waleed came forward.

"Let's go."

He gestured them to be out of there. Leaving behind the scared couple, all three of them came out of the house. Zaviyar punched the bonnet of his car, something which helped him close to nil in venting his frustration and pain. Both Waleed and Muskan didn't know what to say to him. The truth was harder than anything they hoped to find here.

"Zaviyar..."

Waleed tried again to at least say anything comforting to his friend but Zaviyar's eyes shone with determination. Something Waleed hadn't expected to see just yet.

"You guys go ahead. I have a business to take care of. "

The edge in his voice was chilling. Waleed knew trying to debate with this version of Zaviyar was futile. He sighed, refusing the keys Zaviyar had extended towards him.

"We'll manage. I know I don't have to tell you this but be both careful and mindful."

Zaviyar gave a scoffing noise. All three of them were ready to leave the damned place not realizing the watchful eyes of someone from across the street.

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