Chapter 2 : Author's pov
Location: New York
The sleepy look that had just moments ago been in his eyes was now replaced with a fully alert and startled expression.
He stared at Sarim, his twin brother, his identical twin with just a difference of eye color and voice but whose actions and demeanor were exactly the same as Zayn.
The shocking news Sarim had just delivered was enough to jolt their spirits awake.
"yar banday ki agar shakal achi na ho to banda bat hi achi kar leta hai... lekin tu, tu manhoos insan kbhi koi dhang ki khabar na sunaya kr bc..."
(Translation: If a person is not good-looking, at least he should have good news to share, but you... you're just hopeless. You never have anything positive to say.)
Zayn muttered as he bolted out of bed and rushed downstairs to the living area.
The night before, Zayn and Sarim had hosted a late-night party that had lasted well into the early hours of the morning. By the end of it, everyone had been so exhausted from dancing that they'd collapsed wherever they could find space.
Now, the aftermath was everywhere, living room was filled with their friends—or rather, "their girlfriends and female friends," as it would be more accurate to say, since only two other guys were present, the rest were all girls.
Some were sleeping on the couch, others sprawled across the floor cushions, and a few had taken over the guest room.
(Zayn and Sarim had lived in America since childhood and were fully immersed in its culture. Having friends stay over after parties was normal for them.)
"Get up every one! Grandpa's coming!"
Sarim hissed, kicking one of the couch cushions.
The girls, still groggy, sat up, their eyes wide with panic.
They knew all too well the reputation of Subhan Shah, and the thought of him catching them in this state sent a wave of terror through them.
Within minutes, the penthouse was a flurry of movement as everyone gathered their things and hurriedly left.
As soon as the last of their friends disappeared, Zayn and Sarim called the cleaning service to come and clear up the mess.
It wasn't the first time they'd been in this situation, and they had become adept at handling these emergencies.
Their penthouse, located on the 20th floor of a luxury five-star hotel, was spacious and beautifully designed.
Within the hour, the penthouse was back to its usual pristine state, just in time for the doorbell to ring.
Moments later, two elderly men entered. One was much older, yet despite his age, he dressed well and carried himself with such strength and grace that he didn't appear a day over fifty.
He had kept himself so fit and healthy that even in his eighties, he ruled over both his business and his children, and his grandchildren.
Subhan Shah's commanding presence was enough to leave anyone awestruck.
Accompanying him was his eldest and most obedient son, Arbaaz Shah—Zayn and Sarim's father.
"AssalamoAlaikum grandpa and dad, aaap ap log is tarha achanak kiu aa gaye...? wo mmm mera mera mtlb hai k what a pleasant surprise kese ana hua welcome welcome ap log aeyay na under aa k betheay..."
(Translation: Salam, Grandpa! Dad! What a pleasant surprise! Why the sudden visit? I mean, we weren't expecting you, but it's such a delight to see you both! Please, come in!)
Sarim, ever the people pleaser, rushed to greet them with exaggerated enthusiasm, though his nerves were clearly rattled by their unexpected arrival.
"hamain mehmano ki tarha treat mat kro bachayy mat bhoolo k ye ghar hum ne hi tum dono naa ehlo kon tohfay me deya tha, hum jab chahen yahan aa sakte hen yahan any k leay hamain tum dono nalaiqo ki ijazat ki zarurat nhi"
(Translation: Don't treat us like guests, boy. We're the ones who gave you this house as a gift. We can come here whenever we want. We don't need your permission,)
his grandfather retorted, unimpressed by Sarim's attempt at flattery.
Zayn, standing nearby, struggled to contain his laughter. He knew if he didn't hold it in, he'd be on the receiving end of a scolding too.
Sarim's flattery backfired spectacularly when Grandpa snapped at him with clear displeasure.
Zayn, on the other hand, found it impossible to suppress the overwhelming laughter that bubbled up within him.
He had to stifle it though, knowing full well that if he didn't, Grandpa's reprimand would soon come his way too, just like Sarim's.
"Or tum... bht hasi aa rahi hai tumhe...? lakh koshesh krlo tum apni hasi chupany ki lekin hum se kuch nhi chupa skte tum... hum tum dono ki rag rag nas nas se waqif hen... nalaiqon bhoolo mat hum tumhare baap k bhi baap hain..."
(Translation: And you... you think this is funny, do you? No matter how hard you try, you can't hide your laughter from me. I know you two inside out—don't forget, I'm not just your grandfather, I'm your father's father too, you fools!)
Grandpa's wrath now shifted to Zayn, who, startled by the sudden shift in attention, straightened up in his seat and quickly wiped the grin off his face.
The scolding Zayn received was a source of deep satisfaction for Sarim, who had caught the sly look on Zayn's face earlier.
Seeing Zayn struggle to contain his amusement had stoked Sarim's jealousy, but now, watching him get reprimanded was sweet, sweet revenge.
"ye batao tum dono ghadon ne kb tk aesy hi chhira chant ghoomna hai or naa ehlon ki tarha baap k pesy p ayashi karni hai...? Business ki taraf kb ao gay tum dono, 28 saal k ehmaq bewaqoof ghadon kya burhapy me jaa k business dekho gay or shadi karo gay...tumhe kya lagta hai ye jo tum mirasiyo ki tarha gaana gatay bajaty phirte ho is se koi tmhe apni beti de dega.?, aye baray singer, huh"
(Translation: So, tell me, you two idiots—how long are you going to keep living this aimless, carefree life, squandering your father's money like a couple of freeloaders? When are you going to get serious about the business? You're 28 now, for heaven's sake! Do you plan to start taking responsibility when you will be an old man? And don't even get me started on marriage. Do you think anyone is going to give their daughter to you when all you do is prance around like musicians, pretending to be singers?)
Grandpa never minced his words. He always got straight to the point, never wasting time with pleasantries. This time, Zayn's career choice didn't escape his biting critique either.
"Grandpa shaadi...! Lkin itni jaldi shadi kon krta hai... abhi to hmari sab ex-girlfriends bhi bachelor hen"
(Translation: Grandpa... marriage? But who even gets married so soon? I mean... even none of our ex-girlfriends are married yet either...)
Zayn attempted to look pitiful as he protested, but the last part of his sentence came out in a barely audible mumble that only Sarim could hear.
Zayn knew that if Grandpa caught wind of that, he'd be in deep trouble.
"Enough!"
Grandpa raised his hand in a decisive gesture, signaling the end of their excuses.
"Basssss...bht sunleay hum ne bahany or dekh leay tum dono k dramay... ab tum dekho gy jo hum kren gy"
(Translation: We've heard all your lame excuses and watched enough of your antics. Now you'll see what I do next.)
"Wwh what... what will you do, Grandpa?" Zayn and Sarim asked simultaneously.
"Hum or Arbaz parso ki flight se Pakistan jaa rhe hen or hum chahte hen k zayn tum bhi hmare sath chlo is leay hum ne tmhari seat or ticket bhi confirm krwadi hai... kl raat ko tum dono har soorat Shah Palace me mojud milo hamain kiu k parso subha ki flight hai"
(Translation: I, along with your dad, are flying to Pakistan the day after tomorrow, and I want you to come along with us, Zayn. We've already booked your seat. Both of you will meet us at Shah Palace tomorrow night, no excuses. The flight is early in the morning the day after.)
"Lkin grandpa ap k is tour me mera kya kaam hai...? mmm mera mera matlab hai k ap k mujh jese ahmaq bewaqoof nalaiq or kamaqal ko kis maqsad k leay wahan le jana chahte hen..?"
(Translation: But Grandpa... what am I supposed to do on this trip? I mean, why take me, the idiot and the failure, along?)
Zayn, who had started his protest quite boldly, faltered under his father's sharp gaze and quickly adjusted his tone.
"Tum wahan hamre sath jao gy ta k tum us ladki se mil sko or usay dekh sko jo hum ne tmhare leay pasand ki hai"
(Translation: You're coming with us so you can meet the girl we've chosen for you)
Grandpa said bluntly.
"Tum usay dekho gy use milo gy usko smjho gy... wese to hamari pasand hmesha se hi itni khaas or shaandaar rhi hai hmesha se k kbhi ksi ko inkar krne ki zarurt nhi pari lkin kiu k ye tumhari maa ki khowahish hai k zayn apni mangetar se shadi se phle ek bar mil lay is leay hum apni bahoo ki khowahish ka ehtram krte huey tmhe apne sath leay ja rhe hen.... OR EK BAAT OR... TUM US SAY MIL TO RAHAY LEKIN YE BAT INKAAR KARNAY KI GUNJAISH BILKUL NHI HAI TUMHARA JAWAB HAR SOORAT "HAN" HI HONA CHAHAEAY... hum wahan jayen gy or bss tumhari or samara beti ki shadi ki date fix kren gy"
(Translation: You'll get to see her, talk to her, understand her. Normally, our choices are so flawless that there's never been any need for second thoughts. But because your mother wants you to meet your fiancée before the wedding, we're honoring her wish. One more thing, though—you're meeting her, but don't think you have the option to refuse. The only answer you're allowed to give is 'yes.' We're going there to set the date for your wedding to Samara Alam.)
"My wedding to... who?"
Zayn's voice barely registered the shock. He was sure he had heard wrong.
"Your wedding to Samara Alam," his father repeated with calm finality. "The granddaughter of your grandfather's childhood friend, Ahmad Alam."
"Ssssssssa-Samara Alam..."
Sarim couldn't help but repeat the name, while Zayn sat frozen, struck dumb by the realization.
A wave of memories hit him like a punch to the gut, all of them involving that short, terrifying girl who had tormented him in the past.
Suddenly, a flashback engulfed his mind.
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"ab kro gy aisa...? Bolo bolo... kro gy ab aisa...? Lo gy mujh se panga...? jawab do mjhe"
(Translation: Now will you do it again? Huh? Will you do it again? Answer me!)
A tiny girl, grabbing his hair, repeatedly dunked his head into the freezing water of a swimming pool, only to yank it back out and ask if he'd learned his lesson yet.
He had come with his grandfather to a friend's house for a gathering, where he saw the little girl painting quietly.
Mischief sparked in his mind.
He pulled the trigger of his water gun, sending a thin stream of water splashing onto the girl and her painting.
Before she could even react, he bolted, thinking he'd gotten away.
But he was wrong—Samara Alam had seen everything.
Later that day, Grandpa had sent both Zayn and Sarim to play by the pool with the girl, while he and Mr. Alam talked in private.
"Hey, let's play Hide and Seek—Version 2,"
little samara suggested excitedly.
"Hide and Seek, I know, but what's Version 2?"
Sarim had asked, confused.
"ye hide n seak ka upgraded version hai budhoo tumhe itna bhi pata"
(Translation: It's an upgraded version, Dumbo. Don't you know anything?)
Samara had slapped her forehead, exasperated.
"Achaaaa! To tum bht bari teacher ho na tum bata do k kya hota hai tmhara ye so called upgraded version"
(Translation: Oh, so you're the teacher now, huh? Why don't you explain how this works then?)
Zayn had glared at her, irritated by how bossy she was.
"Listen up," Samara began, speaking like a schoolteacher.
"Dekho is game me ye hoga k tumhe blindfold krne k sath sath tmhare hath bhi bandh deay jayen gy or baaqi k do log apni jagah p still khary rhen gy tumhe bas un k pas jana hoga unki presence ko sense kr k or bass phir wo khuda out ho jaye gy"
(Translation: In this version, you'll be blindfolded and your hands will be tied. The other two players will stand still in one spot, and you have to find them. Once you find them, they're automatically out.)
"Ye kesa fazool game hai mujhe nhi khelna"
(Translation: What kind of stupid game is this? I'm not playing,)
Zayn had scoffed, wrinkling his nose.
"Ohh darpok billay...saaf bolo naa k tumhe khelna hi nhi ata huh"
(Translation: Oh, scaredy-cat! Just admit you don't know how to play.)
Samara taunted him, and predictably, Zayn's pride was pricked. He immediately agreed to play.
Zayn's turn came first. He was blindfolded, while Samara and Sarim stood at a distance.
Unknown to him, Samara had placed a chocolate bar near Sarim. When Sarim spotted it, he began munching on it, blissfully unaware of everything else.
Meanwhile, as Zayn neared Samara, she stuck out her foot, tripping him near the pool.
In a flash, she grabbed his hair and dunked his head into the cold water. She yanked it back out, only to shove it back in repeatedly, pulling his hair each time, demanding to know if he'd ever mess with her again.
A shudder ran through Zayn as he returned to the present. Even now, just hearing that girl's name made his hair stand on end.
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Location: Pakistan
The sun bathed the Alam Villa in a warm golden glow, illuminating its grand exterior and lush garden. The scent of blooming flowers wafted through the air, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling parathas from the kitchen. The villa, an elegant masterpiece with high ceilings, arched windows, and marble floors, was alive with the sounds of the morning—clinking dishes, light chatter, and the soft rustling of the household staff going about their duties.
Inside, the dining room was a picture of understated luxury, with a large mahogany table set with fine china and silverware.
The household staff moved swiftly, preparing the favorite breakfast items for the Alam family, meticulously placing plates of fresh fruit, omelets, and parathas on the table.
The morning rush had become routine here—each worker knew their task, and everything ran like clockwork.
From the grand, sweeping staircase, Asma Alam descended gracefully.
She was the epitome of class, wearing a simple yet elegant silk saree that shimmered subtly in the morning light.
Her every movement was poised and confident as she made her way down the stairs, adjusting the soft pallu of her saree over her shoulder.
Despite the serene grace in her demeanor, her voice rang clear and firm as she issued her morning instructions to the staff.
"Sharfu kaka driver se kh k meri car ready karwayen main ne construction site ka visit krna hai aj or Gulaab baano se kahen k jaa k samara ko uthayen, or kya baba jaan apni morning walk se wapas aa gaye hain...?agar han to unka bhi nashta dining table p lagwayen"
(Translation: Sharfu Kaka, tell the driver to get my car ready. I have a site visit today at the construction area. Also, ask Gulab Bano to wake Samara. Has Baba returned from his morning walk? Get his breakfast ready too.)
she said, a faint smile touching her lips as she concluded.
Sharfu Kaka immediately nodded, slightly bowing his head in respect. "Yes, ma'am,"
he replied and set off to carry out her orders.
Today was a day of joy for Asma Alam. The phone call she had received from Subhan Shah the night before, had filled her heart with happiness, and she couldn't wait to share the news with her family.
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Upstairs, the atmosphere in Samara's room was markedly different.
Although the air conditioning was off, the room felt cool and refreshing, thanks to its well-ventilated design and thick curtains that kept the blazing sunlight at bay.
The room itself was a vision of perfection—everything was immaculately arranged.
The elegant dressing table gleamed under the soft morning light, an array of expensive perfumes neatly displayed, each bottle hinting at its own delicate fragrance.
A sleek makeup organizer stood at one end, filled with high-end beauty products, each brand name a testament to Samara's refined tastes.
Samara herself stood before the mirror, her naturally curly hair spilling over her shoulders as she expertly ran a flat iron through them.
She was talking on her Bluetooth earpiece, her tone confident and professional.
"G sir main ne puri taeyar report apko email kar di hai js me is case k saare important points or is sting operation ki saari planning detailed mojood hain... ofcourse sir each n everything is perfect after all samara alam ne plan kea hai ye operation har cheez ka perfect hona to obvious hai"
(Translation: Yes, sir, I've emailed you the full report. It contains all the key points of the case, along with the detailed planning of the sting operation. Of course, sir, everything is perfect. After all, Samara Alam planned this, so perfection is obvious.)
Samara spoke confidently into her Bluetooth earpiece while straightening her curly hair with a flat iron.
Just as she finished her conversation with a soft laugh, there was a knock at the door. She quickly ended the call, saying goodbye, and called out, "Come in."
Gulab Bano entered,
"Samara bibi, madam ji apko neechy bula rhi hain nashta taeyar hai"
(Translation: Miss Samara, Madam is calling you downstairs. Breakfast is ready.)
"G baano main bass ready hi hu ap mom ko bolen main bas 5 min me ek important email kr k ati hu"
(Translation: I'm almost done, Bano. Please tell Mom I'll be there in five minutes after sending an important email.)
Samara replied.
"ji behtar"
(Translation: Very well.)
Gulab Bano said before heading back to the dining hall.
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Samara, who had promised to be down in five minutes, ended up taking almost twenty.
She hurried down the stairs and immediately spotted her mother and nana at the dining table. Feeling a little embarrassed, she offered a quick apology and slid into her seat.
"samara beta main ne apko kitni baar samjhaya hai k khany ko intezar nhi karwaty is se Allah pak naraz hote hen or khany me se barkat khatam ho jati, maana k Allah ne hmen beshumaar naimato se nawaza hai or kisi cheez ki hamain kami nhi hai lkin is tarha khany ko intezar karwana gunah hai so ap next time khayal kejaeay ga bachay...! Kher aj main ap dono se ek bht important news discuss krni hai"
(Translation: Samara, my dear, how many times have I told you not to keep food waiting? It displeases Allah, and it takes away the blessings from the meal. I know we are blessed with abundance, but making others wait for food is still a sin. Next time, please be more mindful. Anyway, I have something important to discuss with both of you today.)
Asma Alam said, calmly masking her frustration. She had always been gentle when correcting her only daughter.
"Sorry mom main agay se iska khayal rkhu gi"
(Translation: Sorry, Mom. I'll be more careful next time, I promise.)
Samara replied obediently, waiting for her mother to continue while spreading blueberry jam on her bread.
"Kal raat mujhe ap k nana jaan k dost Subhan shah k betay Arbaz shah ki call aye New York se, wo or un ki family 2 din baad pakistan aa rhi hai or coming weekend night p wo hamare sath dinner kren gy jis me hum date final kren gy official engagement ki samara or zay—"
(Translation: Last night, I received a call from your Nana's friend, Subhan Shah, in New York. He and his family are arriving in Pakistan in two days, and they'll be having dinner with us over the weekend. During the dinner, we'll be officially announcing the engagement of Samara and Zay—)
Before Asma Alam could finish, Samara, who had been attentively listening, began choking on her strawberry milkshake.
Her face flushed, and she started coughing uncontrollably.
The milkshake, which moments ago tasted sweet, now felt bitter at the mere mention of her childhood enemy, Zayn Shah.
The thought of him turned her stomach.
As soon as Zayn's name was mentioned, a vivid memory flashed in Samara's mind....
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"Voldemort mere shoe lace baandho"
(Translation: Voldemort, tie my shoelaces.!)
Three-year-old Samara Alam, a plump little girl, had bossily pointed towards the pudgy-nosed, bratty six-year-old Zayn Shah, commanding him with an air of superiority.
Zayn's face flushed with anger, his cheeks burning red as his tiny fists clenched at his sides. His sharp temper, even as a child, was legendary.
How dare someone mock his nose?
"you idiot minion, jao or apni mummy se karwao ye kaam, main tumhara sir phar du ga tum ne mujhe apna nokar samjha hai kya"
(Translation: You idiot minion, go and ask your mommy to tie your shoes! I'll smash your head in! Do you think I'm your servant?)
Zayn had fumed, barely able to speak through his rage.
He had been on the verge of pulling her hair out if she hadn't been the granddaughter of his grandpa's best friend.
"Tum be ladam(be lagam) ghoray... tum mujhe... mujhe kam se mana kr rhe ho... kya tum jante nhi ho main kon hu...? Tumhe nhi pata meri mom kon hain huh..?"
(Translation: You wild horse! How dare you refuse me? Do you even know who I am? Do you know who my mom is?)
Little Samara had shouted in fury.
"pagal boni churail is party main bht sare nokar hain ab mujhe har ek ki to shakal or naam nhi pata na main yad krne ki zehmat karu ga"
(Translation: You're a silly little witch. This party has so many servants. I can't remember all their names and faces.)
the snobbish prince Zayn had sneered, wrinkling his nose in disdain.
"nokar ho gy tummmm!!! Ye meri party hai, dekho main tumhe akhri bar keh rhi hu mujhe sorry bol k mere shoe lace bandho nhi to main servants ko keh k tmhe cake tk nhi khany du gi or party se bahar phenkwa du gi"
(Translation: Well, you might be a servant, but this is my party. I'm warning you, say sorry and tie my shoelaces, or I'll make sure you don't even get a piece of my birthday cake!)
Samara had threatened, ready to banish him from her world.
But that was the final straw for Zayn.
Zayn's patience had snapped. Without a second thought, he had grabbed one of his shoes and hurled it directly at the large birthday cake sitting on the table. The cake Samara had yet to cut. The room fell into stunned silence as Samara's jaw dropped, her anger bubbling over.
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"Samara beta aram aram se pejeay juice kahi bhaga nhi jaa rha"
(Translation: Samara, my dear, drink slowly. The juice isn't going anywhere.)
Asma Alam's soothing voice brought Samara back to the present as she gently rubbed her daughter's back, helping her recover from the coughing fit.
Samara snapped out of her daze and returned to the present.
Her nana, watching the scene, couldn't help but chuckle softly into his tea.
"Mom ye ap kya keh rhi hain... mangni... or wo bhi meri or us makhanchoo devil evil dinosaur ki... ap... ap aesa soch bhi kese sakti hain mom... wo idiot nonsense jungle stupid mannerless senseless fool mera... yani k samara alam ka... fiancée kese ban skta hai oh my God ap baro k zehn me esi bat aye hi kiu I can't believe this... uski family or hmari family dono janti hai k hum dono ek dusre k kitne baray dushman hen I just hate him"
(Translation: Mom, what are you saying? An engagement? Mine? With that miserable devil, that evil dinosaur? How could you even think of this? He's an idiot, a rude, wild, stupid, mannerless senseless fool! How could Zayn Shah—become—my fiancé? You all knows that we both are enemies ohh God I just hate him)
Samara stammered in disbelief, shaking her head.
Asma Alam had expected this outburst, and so she sat calmly, eating her breakfast as Samara vented.
She knew how much her daughter despised Zayn, so none of this was surprising.
"Sab se pehli bat to mind your language samara, zayn bht jald ap k mangetar se apka shohr banne walay hain un k baray me bat kartay huey apne lafzo ka chunao ehteyat se kejeay ga ap ab se... or srf zayn hi nhi ap kisi or k bhi baray me is tarha k words use krti huee bht ill-mannered lgen gi... dusri bat ye k ap dono ki mangni bachpan me ho gayee thi ye to just public announcement k leay aik formal sa event hoga... or sab se ehm baat ye k zayn ab baray ho gaye hain, waqt har insan me badlao lata hai to yaqinan un me bhi laya hoga, or ab wo aur ap dono baray ho chuke hain dono mature ho chuke hain is leay bachpan k ikhtilafat ko yad na rkhen to hi behtr hoga"
(Translation: First of all, watch your language, Samara. Zayn is going to be your fiancé and, eventually, your husband, so be mindful of your words when you speak about him. Secondly, your engagement was decided in your childhood. This is just a formal public announcement. And lastly, Zayn has grown up now. Time changes everyone, and I'm sure he's changed too. You both are adults now, mature enough to put aside your childhood differences.)
Asma Alam explained gently.
Samara was fuming.
"bachpan k ikhtilafaat my foot mom...! Hum dono k khayalat or shakhsiyat kbhi nhi mil sakte ek dusre se... is leay hum dono ka ek hona impossible hai... main kbhi bhi us insan se shadi nhi kru gi main pehle hi bata rhi hu apko ye bat ta k apke guets k samne apko sharminda na hona paray...Allah ahafiz main office jaa rhi hoon... sham ko milte hen)
(Translation: Childhood differences, my foot, Mom! Our thoughts and personalities have never aligned and never will. There's no way we could ever be a couple! I'm telling you now, I will never marry him! Just so you know, don't be surprised when I refuse in front of all the guests. Allah Hafiz, I'm going to the office now. See you in the evening.)
Normally, Samara was obedient and respectful towards her mother, but this time, the mere mention of Zayn Shah had pushed her to speak out in a way she rarely would.
Asma Alam always valued her daughter's opinions, but she also knew Zayn had always been a sore point for Samara.
Finishing her rant, Samara grabbed her bag and car keys, quickly said goodbye to her mother and grandfather, and stormed out of the house.
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Location: Pakistan
The morning sun had fully risen, casting long shadows across the servants' quarters at the back of the Chaudhary Haveli.
The quarters were modest, with peeling paint and a rusty railing lining the verandah.
A few old bicycles leaned against the walls, and the small space was filled with the sound of chatter, pots clanging, and the distant hum of activity from the main house.
"irha...o irha... areee o karam jail kya behri ho gayee hai kya..? ya qudrat ne hum pe rehm kar deya or tu mar gayee hai.."
(Translation: Irha! You deaf or something? Or has God blessed us with your demise today?)
Shano Baji's loud, scolding voice echoed as she clung to the rusty railing of the servant quarters' verandah, climbing the stairs to the roof.
"aray piari shano baji ap kiu bilawajah apne ghutno ko takleef de rhi hain seerhiyan charh k... ap beth jayen main bula k laati hu irha ko"
(Translation: Shano Baji, why bother with your bad knees? Please, sit down. I'll go fetch Irha,)
Beena, another servant, rushed forward as soon as she saw Shano Baji's temper aimed at Irha.
"han ja beena is karam jail ko neechy le k aa aaj main choru gi nhi isko... aesi chamri udhero gi k dobara himmat nhi kr ske gi meri bat sun un suni krdene ki"
(Translation: Yes, go get that lazy girl. I'm going to skin her alive today for ignoring me! I'll teach her a lesson she won't forget.)
Shano Baji muttered, hauling a pile of laundry towards the wash area.
Beena's heart sank as she thought about Irha's impending punishment. She hurried up the stairs to warn her.
"irha...! Behri main tujhse bat kar rahi hoon tu sun kiu nhi rahi hai kahan khoyee huyee hai tujhe pta hai na shaano baji ka to phir q jawab nhi de rhi un ki awaz pe...!
(Translation: Irha! What's gotten into you? You know how Shano Baji gets, so why didn't you respond?)
Beena frantically said as she reached the roof, finding Irha deep in thought.
When Irha didn't respond, Beena nearly shook her to snap her out of it.
"han han sab sun rhi hu behri nhi huyee hu... jhalli tu kiu mera kaan phaarna chahti hai..?"
(Translation: Huh? I'm not deaf, Beena! Why are you shouting? And what's with the panic?)
Irha finally responded, clearly annoyed at being disturbed from her thoughts.
"agar tu behri nhi hai or sab sun rhi thi to itni der se mu se kuch phoot kiu nhi rahi thi... the kab se bula rhi hu main... or shano baji bhi, or ab neechy ja k jo teri halat honi hai na is se main ne tujhe ab ki bar hargiz nhi bachana"
(Translation: If you're not deaf, then why didn't you answer earlier? Shano Baji's been calling you, and now, she's furious. You're in big trouble.)
Beena warned.
Now Irha was starting to worry.
She had gotten so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't realized the storm she'd invited upon herself.
" aray nahiiiiii... beena bata na ab main kya kru shaano baji k azaab se bachne k leay)
(Translation: Ohh no Beena, please help me, what should I do to avoid Shano Baji's wrath?)
she pleaded, looking desperate.
"Is azaab ko dawat tu ne khud di hai... kiu behri ban k bethi huee thi aesy bongo ki tarha"
(Translation: You brought this on yourself, girl. Why were you acting like a complete idiot, ignoring her?)
Beena scolded, landing a sharp slap on Irha's arm.
"Aray, ohh, beena sun, yara parso na Arena hall me ek bht hi bari mehfil e mushaira hai or is me mulk k mashhoor tareen shayar or adeebo k sath sath Ustaad Rahat Fataeh Ali Khan bhi aa rhe hain... is leay main tere or apne wahan jany ka jugaad kese lagau ye soch rhi thi"
(Translation: Ouch, ohh, Beena listen, there's a big poetry recital happening in Arena the day after tomorrow. Famous poets and writers will be there, and even Ustad Rahat Fateh Ali Khan! I've been trying to figure out how we can go.)
Irha explained, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
She knew how much Beena admired Rahat Fateh Ali Khan and loved poetry.
Hearing this, Beena's face lit up too, and she began thinking about how they might attend.
"lkin irha wahan k passes to bht mehnge hen hum pass kese khareeden gy.?)
(Translation: But Irha, the tickets for that event are expensive. How will we afford them?)
Beena's excitement quickly faded as she realized the problem.
But Irha already had a solution in mind. Her mischievous smile hinted at some clever plan brewing in her head.
Before she could reveal it, their attention was drawn to a commotion downstairs in the servant quarters.
The girls ran over to the edge of the roof and peeked down.
Below, their fellow maid Ashna was standing with a skinny young girl, wrapped in an overly long dupatta. From the looks of her, she was uneducated and appeared somewhat clueless.
Curious, they strained their ears, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation below.
They could tell that a new servant had arrived at the haveli, or perhaps she was about to join. The two girls settled in on the roof, eagerly awaiting the end of the "interview session."
As Shano Baji was the Head of all the servants so whenever any new servant came up to join them, he/she had to give an interview to shano baji first.
On the other side, Irha and beena who were eavesdropping the interview session, now neither of them was worried about Shano Baji anymore.
Whenever a new servant arrived, Shano Baji's mood would instantly improve, and she would usually spare Irha from punishment on those days.
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Location: New York
Heavy bikes sped through the race track, each rider determined to leave the others behind. The black motorcycle gradually overtook the rest, but the blue bike was pushing hard to keep up.
A sharp turn approached, and both riders tried to maneuver through it together. The wind's intensity and the dusky atmosphere only made the race more thrilling. They steadied themselves and then accelerated once again.
As the finish line neared, they both increased their speed. Hearts raced, and for a moment, it seemed like they were neck and neck.
But in a split second, the black Kawasaki ninja h2r crossed the finish line, claiming victory as always.
The crowd roared in celebration, chanting Sherry Sherry Sherry.! as he dismounted his bike, glanced around the arena, and flashed a subtle smile before walking away.
Every girl in the stadium had a crush on him, captivated by that one small smile.
Walking toward his best buddy Ahmer, who was smiling back at him, the rider embraced him, then took the water bottle from his hand, sipping as they walked together.
"Well done, as usual, buddy. You rocked it like always,"
Ahmer praised him warmly.
"Thanks, bro,"
Shehryar replied with a subtle smile, acknowledging the compliment.
Ahmer and Shehryar had been friends since childhood, sharing their school, college, and even university life together.
Now, even in their practical lives, they remained inseparable.
Ahmer was one of the few people Shehryar genuinely cared about.
His proud and aloof nature often kept him from forming close relationships with others, but Ahmer was an exception.
Shehryar Sultan was the only son of his parents and the beloved brother of his sister, Baneen Sultan.
Being raised with immense wealth and indulgence had spoiled him enough.
He was arrogant, knowing that many people were infatuated with him.
Despite this, he truly cared for only three people in his life: his sister Baneen, his best friend Ahmer, and Mariam Bibi, the woman who had taken care of him as a child.
Though Mariam Bibi was no longer his caretaker, he still visited her every week, always making time for her, no matter how busy he was with his responsibilities as CEO of his father's multinational company.
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To be continued...
Author's Note:
Hello my dear readers. hope you all are doing well so here's a really long chapter for ya'll, read it enjoy it but don't forget to leave a short review for me as your reviews are really important for my encouragement and improvement.♥🪄
Take care and Allah Hafiz, will meet on the next chapter... soon...♥🪄
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