Usman, burning with anger, marches straight to Abdullah. The moment he reaches him, he bursts out, "The one you trusted so much... the one you appointed as Commander — that very person was out there enjoying himself instead of performing his duty!"and he is saying that he was on a mission are you serious?
Abdullah remains calm but speaks with regret, "I was the one who sent him on the mission. It was my mistake, not his."
Usman glares at him, confused and furious, "Wait… are you telling me that you ordered him to go with that masked man?"
Abdullah falls into thought for a moment. Then, he replies slowly, "No... no, I didn't say that. What I meant was for him to stay here, keep a close watch, complete the mission right from here… and yes, stay close to Shehzadi Nayab too. But never mind… if he went on a mission without informing us, that's something else now."
But his eyes narrow with suspicion. "Still… where is his friend?" Abdullah asks. "I had clearly told him — from now on, you are the bodyguard of the Shehzadi. But that friend of his is nowhere to be seen today."
Usman, barely containing his emotions, replies bitterly, "Well, this is what happens when you choose someone else as Commander instead of your own brother. The one who cannot even carry out his own duties properly — how can his friend be expected to do any better?"
Abdullah looks away, his face shadowed by guilt. He finally admits, "You're right. You're absolutely right, Usman. I made a mistake. But today, I'll correct that mistake. Tell me… where is he?"
Usman responds firmly, "We spoke right outside Shehzadi's room… and then I walked away. I came straight down here… and when I saw him sitting there, pretending to be all innocent — he was acting, Abdullah. He was pretending, just to make himself look blameless. So that you'd kick him out of the palace yourself."
Abdullah's eyes harden. "Go. Bring him to me — right now. I have many questions for him. And also… find his friend, Abdul Rehman. I want both of them."
Usman nods and turns away, heading toward Qasim.
Yousif's POV
The treatment continues. The medical care is intense, and soon enough — within just a short while — it is complete. He is out of danger now. Safe… alive.
But the wounds are deep — one in particular, too severe for him to stand or walk. At the very least, he will not be able to move for two days.
Umm-e-Farwah's POV
So many days have passed.
And still… no word from Abid.
Her heart feels like it's sinking. Panic begins to take hold. "What if…" she starts to say, but then falls into silence, unable to finish the thought. Shaking her head, she whispers to herself, "No… no, it can't be. It can't be."
"Baba said… he will bring him back, safe and sound. I trust him. I trust him with my whole heart…"
Tears stream silently down her face. She wipes them away with her trembling hands, trying to stay strong. She speaks aloud to herself, as if reassuring a child, "Abid is completely fine. Farwah… Baba will bring him back. I have full faith."
Hammad, watching her break down like this, can't bear it anymore. He steps forward and embraces her gently, his own emotions rising.
Abdul Rehman's POV
The wind — it begins to roar violently.
Doors creak… windows slam open.
The wind rushes in like a storm, flooding every corner of the house. Everything — books, papers, utensils — scatters around in chaos.
Aunty Khawla storms into the room, scolding in anger. She rushes to close the windows and bolts the door shut. You never even bother to close the windows or the door! If anything in this house gets damaged, I won't forgive you. Ever since this cursed boy came to live here, it's like all the blessings have disappeared!"
Then, with fury rising in her voice, she adds under her breath, "Just like his father… he too has become a burden on our heads."
At that very moment… the wind knocks a box off the top shelf. It crashes to the floor… and the lid flips open.
But Abdul Rehman… he is not home.
Shehzadi Nayab's POV
Her condition remains just the same… fragile, delicate — like a fading flower at dusk.
Her soft hands, once so graceful and full of life, are now covered in wounds — wounds that whisper tales of pain and helplessness. And her face… that beautiful, divine face — the very face that once lit up every room she entered — now bears stains of dried blood. Blood that had trickled down slowly… and only just stopped after great struggle.
Her eyes… those enchanting eyes that once carried dreams, mischief, and poetry within them — now remain closed, tightly shut as if protecting her soul from the world outside. She lies there in complete silence — unmoving, untouched by time — as if frozen between a moment of suffering and a distant memory of peace.
And then there's her voice…
That sweet, melodious voice — the kind of voice one could listen to all day, endlessly, without ever growing tired… Now? Now that voice is gone. It has vanished into a stillness that echoes in the emptiness around her.
Her room, once filled with light and laughter, now feels hauntingly empty. Cold. Silent.
Her painting — the one she had poured her heart into, the one that carried fragments of her emotions in every brushstroke — it still stands there. Unfinished. Abandoned midway, just like her story… left incomplete For Now.
A piece of her soul remains trapped in that canvas — colors halted where life paused.
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Written By
Sabir Ali
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