Hey everyone! Apologies for the delay-here's the fourth draft of Chapter 37. I ended up scrapping the first three drafts because I decided to go with an alternate ending. After much contemplation, I felt this version would fit the story better. Hope you enjoy it!

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The clouds churned above the village of Azamgarh, thick and dark, heavy with the promise of rain and something more ominous. A lone woman stood in the storm, her hair wild and damp, blown across her face, hiding her eyes but not the anger radiating from her. The red saree clung to her, soaked and vibrant, like a signal of doom against the gray world around her. Mascara streaked down her face, her eyes hollow and haunted, lending her a ghostly, vengeful aura. Bound by thick, rusted chains to an ancient tree, she waited.

Waited for her father's judgment.

In this land, he was both father and lord, the sole voice that pronounced life or death. A harsh laugh escaped her lips, cutting through the steady drum of rain as her uncle's voice echoed beside her, urgent, sharp, almost fearful.

"Stop laughing! Do you know the gravity of your sin?"

She turned, her voice low but powerful. "I sinned against your god. The god you worship blindly, to whom you offer sacrifices-your own flesh and blood. A god who sins himself, isn't he?"

The words stung, and she saw the flicker of grief in her uncle's eyes, the wounds her words tore open. He had lost his own daughter not long ago. His hand trembled as he tightened his grip on his walking stick.

"Watch your words!" He hissed, but his voice was almost pleading. "My daughter wasn't taken. She was saved-absolved of her sins. General Sahib spared her from the fires of hell."

Her laugh was softer this time, yet colder, as she glanced at him, drenched and trembling. "You believe that, don't you? That he saved her. Just as he's saved others." She leaned forward, her voice a whisper now, laced with a mix of pity and fury. "And how many more will he save before you see the truth?"

Her uncle's face twisted with anger, but she held his gaze, unwavering. The chains clinked softly as she straightened, the rain beginning to fall harder around them. Her voice, though weary, carried through the storm like a battle cry.

"You claim to follow the words of the Almighty, yet you cling to lies. Do you know what the Quran truly says?"

Her uncle recoiled as though struck. "Do not blaspheme!" he growled, though she saw the uncertainty flash in his eyes. "General Sahib has taught us-"

"General Sahib has taught you nothing but fear and submission," she interrupted, her voice cold and steady. "The Quran speaks of mercy, of justice, of compassion. Not of this twisted sense of punishment."

She took a breath, feeling the words rise up from the depths of her soul. "In the eyes of the Almighty, each life has value. There is no mandate for this cruelty, this so-called 'absolution.' Only those who have no faith twist His words to their own gain. Those who carry power are supposed to be just, not use His name to shed blood."

Her uncle's face was thunderous, but he remained silent, his grip on his stick loosening. A murmur rippled through the gathered villagers, some glancing at each other with uneasy expressions, doubt beginning to creep in.

"You ask what my sin is," she continued, her voice rising. "My sin is refusing to accept these lies. Refusing to let fear bind me as it has bound you. I will not be silenced by a man who twists the words of the Divine for his own power."

The storm roared overhead as her father, the lord of Azamgarh, finally emerged from the shadows. His face was set in stone, yet she saw a flicker of something-perhaps hesitation or even fear. But she knew he would not yield.

"You've chosen to defy of Almighty and the will of the General," he said addressing himself in third person, his voice cold. "You've abandoned your faith."

"No," she said, her voice fierce. "I've abandoned your tyranny disguised as faith. My faith lies in my truth, not the lies of men who think themselves gods."

With each word, her strength grew. She could see the confusion and doubt stirring among the people, cracks forming in the rigid belief system that had held Azamgarh captive for so long. And she knew that even if they bound her, even if they silenced her voice tonight, the truth had already begun to seep into their hearts.

The truth they always knew, that Jahangir Shaikh was tyrannical.

"Even animals fight for their offspring lives. You say she will go to heaven. What will you say to her there? That you bowed down to her murderer... you watched as she cried in pain till she couldn't? God loves his creation more than a mother would... why would he be so sinister then?"

"Because Jahangir Shaikh isn't a God," a woman spoke up. Her eyes met Seher's, Shaista Ansari- the woman General Sahib had an affair with.

"Jahangir Shaikh is a sinner! He sinned, he committed adultery with me, because he couldn't produce a heir. I know you fear him, but this General Sahib of yours is a weak man, it's you all who gave him the power. Without you, he has no power. So stop getting manipulated by his lies, and wake up. Save the village, save yourselves before you can't when he gets the political power to suppress you."

"He is nothing more than a coward hiding behind his power, hiding behind the lies he forces upon you!"

Seher's father, who had until then held his silence, turned his gaze toward Shaista, a storm brewing in his eyes. "Enough!" he roared, his voice breaking through the whispers. But even he could sense the shift in the air, the irreversible fracture in the faith the villagers once had. They were having a collective realization, that if they didn't act now, they would forever be puppets in his hands.

Seher, still bound in chains, lifted her head, her voice cutting through the tension. "You can't silence us all, Father. The truth is out. Your reign-Jahangir's reign-will end today."

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A cup was thrown against the wall. Then a table, files, and a loud crash was heard.

Ayesha was terrified, as she peeked into Saad's room to check on him, not realising he was drunk. His eyes feral, like an animal, "I can't lose!"

He screamed, his phone rung, he threw the heavy phone against the wall making a dent.

"That f'ing whore!!! I should have never believed her".

He walked to the phone and dialled a number, "Let's make an alliance," Jahangir Shaikh who was on the other hand, asked, "What's the catch?"

"I want Seher."

Ayesha entered the room at that moment, "Let her go... she doesn't want you, please it's hurting you, I want my Saad back".

Her eyes carried were pleading, begging for his love, his care, his attention. But Saad had nothing for her because he had never loved her. She was now an annoyance for him, her constant bickering was a source of headache for him.

He was still on the call when Ayesha pulled away the phone from his ears, "Listen to me!"

Saad was panicked, annoyed, and enraged. He had married Ayesha so he could have an obidient wife and, a heir. Her constant nagging was making him destest her.

He was starting to hate her.

She was an extra baggage to him at this point.

"If you leave Ayesha I will be a good wife"

She was now a hindrance to him...

He wanted to get rid of her, he couldn't divorce her. Alcohol can bring a worst out of a human, and Saad was already at his worst.

Musa was a baby, he wouldn't remember her, he didn't need her.

In his contemplations, a rough warning escaped his lips, "Ayesha I am warning you... if you didn't leave, you will see the worst side of me."

This warning was to his childhood friend, he had cared for her once but now his heart had no place for her.

"I want my husband back, I have no one beside you, everyday I wait for you", Ayesha's voice was frail, the echo of a broken heart, as she whispered, "Please, Saad... don't do this. I have loved you, stood by you when no one else did. I thought... I thought you loved me too." Her words hung in the silence, dissolving into the emptiness between them, words that would never reach the man she'd cherished.

But his gaze was colder than steel, an abyss that held no warmth, no flicker of the kindness he once had. The man she had loved had vanished long ago, and in his place was a monster wearing his face. He sneered, a cruel twist of his mouth, as he lifted the gun with terrifying ease.

"Ayesha," he said, her name twisted with disdain, as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience, "you are a burden I no longer need. Your place in my life is over. Stop begging me for a love that died long ago."

She stumbled back, her heart breaking anew as she grasped the full depth of his hatred. A coldness swept over her as she saw it in his eyes-that she meant nothing to him, that her years of sacrifice, of loyalty, were dust in the wind, swept away without a trace. "Saad, please... for our son, for Musa... don't do this," she whispered, voice cracking as her heart fractured beyond repair.

But her pleas were met with silence. In a single, brutal instant, he pulled the trigger. The gunshot tore through her like lightning, pain bursting in her chest, searing and raw. The force of it sent her staggering back, her legs weak, giving way as she sank to the floor. Her hands instinctively pressed to the wound, feeling the warm, sticky blood seep through her fingers, her life slipping away in rivulets of red.

Each heartbeat was slower than the last, each one bringing a suffocating wave of agony. She looked up at Saad, hoping-praying-for even a flicker of regret, of the man he once was. But there was nothing in his eyes, nothing but a stranger's indifference. He turned away from her, dismissing her as if she were no more than a shadow he had cast off.

The pain throbbed, deep and relentless, but worse was the ache in her heart, the realization cutting deeper than any bullet. Her entire life, every tender moment, every silent promise, had been a lie. She had spent years loving a man who was incapable of love, pouring her heart into a vessel as hollow as the dark sky above her. She had wasted herself on someone who had never truly seen her, and now, in these final moments, she was left alone to face the bitter truth.

Tears traced down her cheeks, mingling with the blood on her lips, her breaths coming in shallow, broken gasps. Each inhale felt heavier, her lungs straining against the weight of betrayal. She had given him everything-her loyalty, her heart, her dreams-and now he had taken even her life.

In the corner of her dimming vision, she saw a figure rushing towards her. Razia, knelt beside her, hands trembling as they hovered over Ayesha's failing body. Her face was pale, stricken with horror, as she took Ayesha's hand in her own.

Ayesha tried to speak, her voice a mere whisper, each word pulled from the last fragments of her strength. "Razia... please... take Musa. Take him far away from here. Don't... don't let him grow up to be like his father. Don't let him become... a monster."

Her plea was the last spark of hope she clung to, a final, desperate wish that her son might escape the darkness that had taken her.

She gripped Razia's hand with the last of her strength, her fingers slipping as her strength ebbed. "Promise me... he'll never know this pain. The pain of being used, unloved."

Razia's tears fell freely as she nodded, her voice breaking as she whispered, "I promise, Ayesha. I swear, I'll protect him."

A faint, trembling smile touched Ayesha's lips as her vision began to blur, her world slipping into shadow. The pain softened, dulled, as a strange, cold numbness spread through her body. She could feel herself fading, her breaths slowing, growing softer and softer until, finally, they stopped.

A quiet settled over the room, a stillness broken by Musa's sobs. And in that silence, Ayesha's spirit drifted away, carrying with it a heart full of broken dreams, a love that had been wasted, and a final, selfless hope for the son she would never see grow.

A son who was orphaned by his own father.

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