The tension in the Sikandar house no longer hid behind doors. Servants and children heard arguments echoing through the halls, while the younger grandchildren began asking questions no one dared to answer.
Even dinners, once filled with laughter and stories, had become battlegrounds of silence.
Through it all, Kaina —Ruhaan's wife and Sabiha—Zavian's wife—moved with quiet grace. They poured tea for Agha Jan, sat with Alyna when she wept, and calmed Rayyan when rage left him trembling.
Neither woman spoke often, but when they did, their words carried the weight of sincerity that silenced even the angriest voices.
One evening, Agha Jan called for the family to gather in the formal dining hall. The long table gleamed under the chandelier, but the faces around it were stiff and guarded.
At one end sat Agha Jan, leaning on his cane. Opposite him, Wajdan placed himself at the head—without permission, as though it already belonged to him. Beside him sat Rubab and Sania, Zavian close at hand. Ruhan sat further down with Kaina by his side, while Rayyan and Alyna lingered near their gentle bhabbi, Sabiha.
Agha Jan's voice was weary when he began.
"I am tired of this quarrel. I only want to eat with my children in peace. No arguments tonight."
But peace was no longer in Wajdan's nature.
Halfway through the meal, he slammed his glass down, shattering the fragile silence.
"Haji Saab," he said coldly—using the title of strangers instead of Baba. "Enough of this. You must decide. Either give me what I deserve or stop insulting me with these games of equality. I am the eldest son—this empire is mine."
The words dropped into the food like poison.
Rubab lowered her eyes. Zavian smirked faintly. Sania and Sabiha froze in shock.
Alyna's lips trembled.
Ruhan pushed back his chair, ready to rise, but before he could, Kaina's hand rested gently on his arm. Then she stood by herself.
Her voice was calm, but it carried across the hall with unshakable firmness.
"Bhai, do you not hear yourself? Do you not see how your words wound Baba—and even the memory of Ammi? What empire is worth humiliating the parents who raised you? What inheritance is worth your mother's tears?"
Sabiha's breath caught, her eyes filling with tears, as though Kaina had spoken her own heart aloud.
Wajdan's face darkened. "And who are you to lecture me? You are only a woman who came into this house yesterday. Kal ki ayi hui aurat muje sikhaye gi ke maine apne ghar walon ke sath kaise rehna hai?"
But Kaina did not flinch.
"Yes, I am a woman. A wife, a daughter, a daughter-in-law, a mother. But that does not make me blind. I see the pain on Baba's face. I see the disappointment in your children's eyes, who once saw you as their hero. I see the fear in Alyna, the heartbreak in Rayyan, the silence in Sabiha. If being family means anything, then I have a right to speak."
Her voice trembled only once, when she added quietly, almost like a prayer:
"Trust me, I am grateful I was not given a brother like this. For if a brother tears apart his own sisters, what is the value of such brotherhood? Even Rayyan, the youngest of us all, is more of a brother than you could ever be."
Her words cut through the air sharper than any accusation. For a long moment, no one breathed. Even the grandchildren, peeking from the doorway, stared wide-eyed at the scene.
Sabiha rose beside her now, her voice firm though her hands shook.
"Baba… Kaina is right."
Ruhan rose as well, his face pale but resolute. "Baba, I agree. I don't want no share for myself. But whatever happens must be fair, especially for our youngest siblings. All I want is for this house to remain united around you."
He turned his gaze to Wajdan, voice steady. "This family was built on honor, not greed. And as long as I live, I will not allow anyone—even my elder brother—to destroy that honor."
Wajdan's chair scraped violently against the floor as he leapt to his feet, his face red with fury.
"You think you are brave, hiding behind your wife's words? Remember this, Ruhan—when the time comes, no one will stand against me!"
His voice thundered through the hall, and then he stormed out, Sania and Zavian following close behind.
But as he reached the doorway, he paused for the briefest moment. His jaw tightened, his eyes burning not with shame but with calculation.
You silenced me today, little brother, he thought bitterly. But you will regret it. And when I take what is mine, I will take it in a way that no one will ever dare stand against me again.
Then he walked on, his footsteps echoing down the corridor like a warning.
The heavy silence that followed was broken only by Agha Jan's trembling voice. He looked at Kaina, his eyes moist, his lips quivering.
"Daughter," he whispered, "may Allah bless you. You have spoken what even my own children were afraid to say."
Kaina lowered her gaze respectfully. Yet in her heart, she knew this was only the beginning of a far greater storm.