Jaan had brought her to Jafar Sahib's house. He knew that the ones who had gone abroad with Shazia Begum would be back in a day or two. But he was happy. These days Emma didn't really know the reason, but his anger had lessened.
Now, she had begun to understand him. Truly, he was tough on the outside but very soft inside. He cared for her without showing it. Till now, he had never once tried to force himself on her. Yes, he did frighten her at times, but never acted beyond that.
Now it was nighttime. They had arrived here in the morning, and this house was also very large. She picked up a pillow from the bed, intending to lie down in the TV lounge. Just then, Jaan came out of the bathroom wearing trousers. Emma quickly averted her eyes from his muscular body.
Seeing Emma holding a pillow, he raised his eyebrows and looked at her. She hurried toward the door, but before she could reach it, her wrist was caught in Jaan's hand. With a tug, he pulled her close. Emma quickly placed her hand on his bare chest to keep some distance, but Jaan wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, cutting off all escape routes.
Emma's heart pounded hard. She didn't trust Jaan's intentions at that moment.
"Where are you planning to go, Mrs.?" he asked, brushing back the strands of hair that had fallen loose from her bun onto her cheeks, tucking them carefully behind her ear. She struggled to free herself from his grip.
Emma almost fainted hearing him call her Mrs. Until now, he had ignored her, and suddenly he called her that. The bell ringing in her head wasn't wrong.
"Let me go!" Emma snapped at last, realizing she couldn't break free from his grip.
"If I was going to let you go… then why would I put my name on you?" he said seriously, gazing deep into her eyes. She instantly looked away.
For a moment, he loosened one arm from around her waist. Emma barely had time to sigh in relief, thinking she was free, when his next move froze her breath. With his other arm, he lifted her off the ground and laid her on the bed. Now, leaning over her, he gazed into her face with meaningful intensity. His warm breath brushed against her cheeks, making them burn red. His piercing eyes, his deliberate closeness—Emma's senses scattered.
"Then you didn't tell me… where were you going?" He traced a line with his finger from her forehead down to her lips as he asked again. At this, Emma squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her delicate lips trembled, her body shook. She had never known such closeness to a man before.
His nearness was always a test for Emma. And just like always, her senses refused to support her under Jaan's overwhelming presence.
"I… I was going to the lounge…" Emma realized she would have to answer, otherwise he wouldn't stop. So she whispered her reply softly with eyes still closed.
"Why?" he questioned again, this time tracing her neck with his finger along her vein, his eyes still fixed on her. Emma held her breath, her voice trapped in her throat, her fists clutching the bed sheet tightly.
"Because… I can't sleep here…" she managed with great difficulty.
"Why not?" he blew lightly over her thick eyelashes, making her shiver even more.
"Step back, and then I can answer…" she pleaded, trying to turn her face away. At her feeble attempt, he gave a slight smile—his smile sharp enough to sting. Instead of moving back, he leaned even closer.
"Mrs.… when people talk, they look straight into each other's eyes. Now open your eyes and answer me." But Emma neither replied nor opened her eyes.
"I'll count to three. After that, I'll make you answer in my own way…" he warned.
"One…" Emma squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. His smile deepened.
"Two…" He leaned close to her ear, his lips brushing against her earlobe. A strange shiver ran through her body.
"And then—" Before he could say "three," Emma's eyes flew open. Brown eyes met blue ones. She couldn't tear herself away; there was some spell in those blue eyes that held her captive.
Emma could feel her heartbeat drumming to some unknown rhythm.
"Now tell me—why don't you want to sleep here?" Jaan snapped his fingers before her face to bring her back, catching her staring dazedly into his eyes.
"I… I can't sleep with you…" Emma blurted out.
"What do you mean by that?" His anger flared, making her nervous.
"I meant… I kick a lot in my sleep. That's why…" she explained hastily, her nervous face amusing him.
"You'll sleep here. That's final," he said seriously, moving aside to lie down next to her. Normally, in the penthouse, they had separate rooms, but here, he didn't want any drama.
Emma chose not to argue further. It was enough for her that he had moved away. As soon as he did, her scattered senses began to work again. She quickly tried to place a cushion as a barrier between them, but Jaan stopped her.
"What a nuisance…" she muttered under her breath, glaring at his back. Suddenly, a mischievous spark flashed in her brown eyes.
She waited until Jaan had fallen into a deep sleep. He was lying on his side, back toward her. Once she was sure he was asleep, she closed her eyes, pretending to sleep, and then deliberately kicked him hard on the back.
He turned to look at her, but seeing her apparently asleep, he pushed her leg back and tried to sleep again. Barely had he drifted off when she kicked him again.
Annoyed, Jaan turned to face her this time. Pretending to sleep herself, Emma struck again—this time her hand landed on his cheek. She had to fight back laughter, though a faint smile betrayed her lips, which Jaan caught instantly. It didn't take him long to realize she was doing it on purpose.
He moved closer and pulled her fully into his embrace.
Emma's eyes flew open in shock.
"Relax, Mrs.… go to sleep. I'm only taking protective measures," he teased. She glared at him, and he glared back. She tried to wriggle free, but the more she struggled, the tighter his grip became.
At last, exhausted and pouting, she fell asleep in his arms.
---
She had gone to the mall with Aahil. They had shopped quite a lot, leaving Hoor tired. Aahil had taken Diyan for ice cream, while Hoor sat in the waiting area, scrolling on her phone.
"Hoorain…" Hearing her name, she looked up in shock. Before her stood Fahad, dressed in blue jeans and a rough shirt. She quickly stood up nervously.
"I won't take much of your time—just listen to me once," he pleaded, stopping her as she tried to leave.
Hoor glanced at him. His eyes were lowered now, no longer filled with their former mischief. There were dark circles beneath them, his unkempt beard making him look older. He was not the same Fahad she had once known.
She didn't want to stop and turned to go, but his next move startled her. He dropped to his knees before her, hands clasped, tears streaming down his face.
"What are you doing?!" People around began to watch. Embarrassed, Hoor grew anxious at the attention.
"For God's sake, just once… forgive me once…" he begged.
"Please get up. People are watching…" Hoor urged him. He wiped his tears quickly and stood.
"Sit down—I'll talk to Aahil first." She made it clear she wasn't alone. Moving a little away, she called Aahil and explained everything.
Meanwhile, Fahad gazed at her back with longing, quenching his thirst just by looking at her.
"Wait there. I'm coming right now," Aahil's voice betrayed how fast he was rushing. Hoor remained standing, not wanting to face Fahad alone.
Barely five minutes passed before she saw Aahil approaching with Diyan in his arms and shopping bags in his hands. He hurried to her side.
"Are you okay? Did he say anything to you?" he asked, his eyes scanning her face anxiously, as if to assure himself she was truly fine. Only she knew how fast he had come running after her call.
"No, he only wants to talk…" she replied, pointing toward Fahad. Seeing Hoor safe calmed Aahil's nerves a little.
Holding her hand, he walked toward Fahad.
"What do you want to say?" Aahil asked coldly, his eyes burning into him.
"Forgiveness…" Fahad mumbled, head lowered like a criminal.
"For what?" Aahil studied him carefully, searching for lies, but he sensed no deception.
"What happened on the day of the mehndi… Hoor was not at fault, it was—"
Aahil raised his hand to silence him.
"First and most important: she is not 'Hoor.' She is Bhabhi. Second: I trust her completely." His words ended the matter there.
Fahad didn't know what else to say. But for Hoor, Aahil's words were nothing less than life-giving water.
"Hoor… Bhabhi… can you forgive me? There's a fire burning inside me that only your forgiveness can ease…"
Hoor looked at Aahil, uncertain. He placed his hand over hers.
"I'll forgive you. But…" At her 'but,' both men looked at her—Fahad nervously, Aahil in surprise.
"But… you must also apologize to Daji." She said firmly. Aahil stared at her, astonished, while Fahad fell silent.
"If I do that… then you'll forgive me?"
They both stood. Fahad stood too.
"Yes. Now let's go, Aahil." She held his arm. Aahil nodded, clasped her hand, and together they walked out of the mall.
Fahad watched them leave. His desperate eyes clung to Hoor's back. Fate had indeed been cruel to him. For all he had done, he had received his punishment in a single stroke—one that would remain like a thorn in his chest forever.
He had fallen in love.
With Hoor.
A love unfulfilled, one-sided.
A love with no destination.
No trace.
______________________________
The phone lying on the table was ringing… but there was no one in the room. The room was completely white, with pink furniture that looked beautiful against it. Attached to the room was a spacious balcony, and from there, the view of the sea was deeply soothing to the soul.
On the balcony, there were fine wooden chairs and a table placed for sitting, and nearby, potted plants bloomed with different types of flowers.
The phone kept ringing, going silent, and then ringing again… until the bathroom door opened and a girl stepped out. She was wearing a pink bath gown with a towel wrapped around her head.
She moved forward, picked up the phone, and stared in surprise at the number flashing on the screen. It was a number that only appeared after a long time. As always, a fear stirred in her heart—the same fear that rose every time, though now it had diminished somewhat.
She composed herself and attended the call.
"D's order is… the job must be finished today."
From the other end, the same order was given again before the call was cut—just as it had always been. She shrugged her shoulders, freed her hair from the towel, and began drying them.
Once her hair was dry, she dressed, then stood before the mirror at her dressing table. She put in lenses that concealed her real eye color.
On her delicate pink lips, she applied lip gloss and blended it. Then she put on mascara and eyeliner. After giving herself a final birdlike glance, she came out, slung her bag over her shoulder, and left the house.
She had to complete her mission.
But she did not know… today, a great revelation awaited her.
---
He was sitting on his bed in a reclining posture, reading a book, when Fahad entered his room.
He had grown much weaker than before. The dark circles beneath his eyes revealed sleepless nights. Slowly, he walked forward and sat at his feet.
Daji closed the book, placed it in his lap, removed his glasses, and looked at him—the boy who sat with his head lowered.
"Fahad, son… are you feeling alright?" Daji asked with concern. All the children were dear to him, but there is always one especially beloved—for him, that was Aahil.
"Daji…" Fahad pressed his hands together before him, his head still bowed.
"Arrey… what are you doing?" Daji immediately reached out, grabbed his clasped hands, and lowered them. This time, he was truly worried.
"Daji… forgive me. I have not honored the upbringing you gave me…" Fahad's voice trembled, thick with tears. Daji's heart gave a painful thump at his words. Releasing his hands at once, he leaned back, his eyes suddenly turning stern.
"What have you done?" His tone was cold, heavy.
Fahad fell silent for a moment. Then, gathering courage, he spoke. He wanted forgiveness—this was the only way to extinguish the fire burning within him.
"I asked, what have you done?" This time Daji's voice rose loud and sharp. So loud that everyone sitting outside in the lounge rushed in.
"A slander… I laid a slander…" His voice was so faint that even he could barely hear himself.
"Louder!" Daji demanded. Everyone else now stood around the bed, frightened by Daji's stern expression.
"I laid a slander! Do you all hear me? I laid a slander!" He leapt up from the bed and shouted. Everyone was struck dumb, as if a snake had bitten them.
"Do you know on whom I cast the slander? Hahaha… how would you know?" His words were broken between sobs and laughter. He no longer seemed in his senses.
"On your precious Aahil! The one you always loved more than us, gave more attention to than us. That favoritism forced me to hate him. It was I who took him to the prostitute's den… and it was I who sent those pictures. I was the one who overheard Aahil telling you about his choice for marriage. It was I who arranged that phone call from the girl—though that girl didn't even know who she was talking about. That woman… she was a widow. The widow of Aahil's friend who died in an accident, and the child was also his friend's son. Even that day, it was I who sent the servant to call her there. And when you went there, you only saw what I had arranged for you to see. And because of your words, that poor woman died, Daji. Even Diyan survived only with great difficulty, thanks to the doctors…"
As he spoke, he revealed one secret after another.
Now they all understood what it meant for the ground to slip from under your feet.
Bilal Sahib was the only one in the room for whom this revelation was not shocking.
Everyone else was stunned, unable to move.
And Afia Begum—the one who always badmouthed Aahil before others—after learning the truth, she too stood frozen. She had been so proud of her grandson… proud wasn't the right word. Arrogance was.
Fahad's mother stepped forward. Chataakh! Chataakh! She slapped him twice across the face. He did not resist, nor did he object. Why would he? He deserved no less.
"For the first time in my life… I regret that you are my son." Her words pierced him. For once, he looked at her in agony. Always, he had ignored his mother's words, always taking shelter in his grandmother's support. But he did love his mother.
Daji sat as if life had drained from his body.
"Arrey, arrey, what are you doing? Can't you see the boy's condition? I know—my grandson could never do this! It must have been Aahil who forced him!" Afia Begum hurried forward, pushing Fahad's mother aside, speaking in his defense.
Her words lit a fire in Fahad's mother.
"Enough! This is all the result of your indulgence. And if Aahil had ever wanted to, he could have done this three years ago!"
All this time she had endured in silence. Today, she finally spoke. Before Afia Begum could answer, Daji's roar silenced her.
"Get out! All of you, out of my room!"
Fahad didn't just leave the room—he left the house entirely. He no longer had the courage to face anyone's eyes.
The rest also left nervously, but Bilal Sahib remained standing.
Daji lowered his head into his hands. Today, he truly felt old for the first time.
"You knew everything, didn't you?"
"Yes." He answered respectfully.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Daji's eyes rose, full of reproach.
"You never let me tell you…"
And Daji fell silent. It was true—he had never let him.
Today, he remembered Aahil's fearless attitude, which had been proof of his integrity.
Today, every injustice he had done replayed in his mind. He realized what he had done.
He had made himself alone.
---
Emma wasn't home. It had been two days now—she left early each morning for Dr. Ibrahim's house. Jaan hadn't stopped her. But he always knew exactly where she was at any given time.
Today, he had no intention of going to the office. He knew Jafar Sahib and Shazia Begum were returning today. And he had prepared a surprise for them.
He was sitting in the lounge on the sofa, smoking a cigarette. The TV was in front of him, but his attention was on the sound of the car stopping outside.
A mysterious smile spread across his face. His blue eyes were cold.
He sent a message to someone on his phone, then leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head, waiting for them to enter.
He knew—the news of him staying here would set them ablaze. But he hadn't come here for a spark. He had come to set off an explosion. And their fire was nothing compared to his storm.
"What are you doing here?" They demanded, even before entering. The servants had already told them Jaan and Emma were here.
"This is my house. My choice, I'll do what I want." Still seated, he answered calmly—in the same manner that always burned others.
"This is my house!" Jafar Sahib thundered.
At this, Jaan laughed, clapping his hands as he rose to his feet.
"The same house you fraudulently took into your name?" His mocking tone drained the color from their faces.
"Jafar Sahib, speak politely…" Shazia Begum tried to take control of the situation. She believed that, as always, this time too he would give in to her words. But that was her biggest mistake.
"Oh Mrs. Jafar… no more dramas. It's time to show your true self." His cold gaze shut her up.
"Mind your tongue—she's your mother!" Jafar Sahib barked. Shazia Begum placed her hand on his shoulder, pretending to calm him. But it was all an act.
"My mother is only my mother. No one else can take her place." With his hands in his pockets, Jaan stood firmly before them, his icy blue eyes locked onto theirs.
"I'm your father. Speak with respect—or I won't hesitate to throw you out onto the street." He snapped his fingers arrogantly.
"You know very well this property isn't in your name. You obtained it through deceit." Jaan replied, still calm, his tone steady as ice.
"Whatever it is—it's mine now. You'll never be able to prove it was fraudulently taken."
A mysterious smile touched Jaan's lips.
He looked at them as if saying: Is that so?
"Your time is up, Mr. Jafar."
Saying this, he left the room. When he returned, he was not alone.
Beside him, in a wheelchair, sat a frail figure.
Their breath caught. They had ended her story long ago… how could she be here?
"Eva…" With great difficulty, the word escaped Jafar Sahib's lips.
"Yes. This is Eva. The one you divorced. The one you and your wife left no stone unturned in trying to kill. I was only waiting for her to recover. And now that she has, she has given her statement against you. So, why don't you enjoy a taste of jail now? Because I've already filed the complaint. The authorities are outside waiting for you."
At his words, Ayesha Begum turned toward the glass wall. Outside in the lawn, the police stood waiting. She looked at Jafar Sahib in panic. His condition was no better.
"Eva, forgive us…" To save himself, Jafar Sahib fell to his knees before her, folding his hands in supplication. All his arrogance collapsed in a single moment.
Eva said nothing. She only looked at Jaan. For in her heart today, there was nothing left for Jafar Sahib.
"Believe me, I didn't want this… it was Shazia who manipulated me." He shifted the blame entirely onto Shazia Begum. She flared up at once, hissing like a snake, and stormed toward him.
"It was you who wanted Eva removed, so you could seize her property for yourself!" she roared, her eyes blood-red.
Jaan stood calmly beside his mother, arms crossed, watching the spectacle.
"Oh, and who was it that suggested sending Jaan to the asylum to grab his share of the property?"
The two of them now hurled accusations at each other.
The police entered. Still, their fight continued.
As the officers tried to restrain them, Shazia Begum snatched a gun from one of their belts and fired two shots at Jafar Sahib.
Stunned, she stared at his falling body.
The police quickly dragged her into the van, while Jafar Sahib was rushed into the ambulance.
Jaan looked at her with contempt. He had no concern for his father, nor for Shazia Begum.
"Mama, you rest. I'll bring your daughter-in-law to you. The nurse will stay here with you." Jaan began pushing her wheelchair toward the room.
He was calm, as though nothing had happened moments ago. But Eva was deeply shaken. To ease her, Jaan injected her so she wouldn't think too much.
Then he stepped outside, where Dr. Abdul Aleem was waiting for him. One look at his face told Jaan the man was angry with him.
"How is her condition?" he asked, worried—though not looking directly at him.
"She's your wife. Go and see for yourself." Aleem replied coldly, shrugging indifferently.
"I told you not to bring her here…" He sighed, helpless before this stubborn man.
"Fine. Next time you forbid me again, I won't argue." Jaan suppressed a smile and turned toward the door.
"All this time you stayed angry with your mother because she wouldn't file a complaint. And now that she finally agreed, you shouldn't have brought her here…" Aleem's voice carried regret as he looked at him.
"Alright, enough. I'm leaving. You go meet your wife—I'll go bring mine." Twirling the car keys around his finger, he walked out.
Behind him, Aleem could only endure with patience.
---
To be continue