Yu bazid hai ankh ronay par abhi

Jaise iss darya mein pani aur hai

Sab rutein dekhi hain iss dil ne magar

Abh kay mausam mein girani aur hai

(The eye is adamant on crying as if

This river has anymore water

This heart had seen every season

But this time around the weather's dearth tells another story)

The night sky was illuminated with the confetti of stars. Gliding together, looking up to the moon with envy, wishing they had half of what it boasted off . Moon just smiled not disclosing this glory was borrowed. It let the stars in their own misconception.

The flowers in the backyard had blossomed to their full swing. They had gotten back their normalcy after a long time and were not ready to give it up ever again. Normalcy. The residents of this house were still struggling for.

Harram leaned some more into her pillow and looked at him who was wide awake staring at the ceiling. She touched his hair slowly moving her fingers through it. He closed his eyes, turning towards her burying his head in her side. Harram took a deep breath.

"Tired?"

"Physically? No. Mentally? Exhausted."

No matter the encouraging situation at the court and Mrs Aneesa's help, there was a long way to go and Harram didn't have to guess how draining it was proving for him. It was his sheer will that he was standing firm in the situation. Many aren't hard to break when it comes to kin. But he was standing against his kin only. The unknown enemies are easy to defeat. When it comes to the opponents who once meant the world to you, you have to defeat yourself countless times before the known enemies.

"You should talk to Khadija Auntie. There are things you both need to discuss."

Zaviyar didn't say anything for a few seconds. But there was hesitation written on his face.

"What if I end up hurting her?"

"What if she's already hurting and talking things out with you will end her agony?"

Harram raised an eyebrow. Zaviyar was still not entirely convinced but he knew it was inevitable. He had to talk to Khadija. Since the time she had brought the papers before them, there was silence on both her and Zaviyar's side. But for how long this could go on? There wasn't a time in this lifetime that the mother son duo had nothing to say to each other. Harram hated this uncertainty between them. She was hoping and trying for things to get back to normal.

"Talk to her. You both need this, Zaviyar."

Harram felt him nodding and soon his even breathing was announcing he had gone to sleep. His tired body and mind needed this. She moved to turn the side lamp off when her eyes caught the printed pages she had placed there to show him. These could wait. Right now Zaviyar's rest was her priority.

_____________

Khadija removed the bundle of clothes and pulled out an old looking photo album from behind the compartment. Contrary to what she had thought, staying here with her son and daughter in law had been nothing short of normal. As if, she was a part of this routine from the very beginning. This was comforting because she wasn't going anywhere now. She was done making home in places she should've left long back.

As she opened the album, a ghost of a smile while on her lips. With each turn, she was turning a memory, walking through old lanes of her past. Smiling, sometimes grinning and all the while wiping the sheen of tears from her face. That's how Zaviyar had found her. Khadija had felt his presence behind.

"This is from your first day of school. Your Baba was out of the city and seemed like he wouldn't be able to make it see you off to school. But he did. You really caused a racket. We all were surprised knowing you were not a cranky kid but even all the good ones have their weird moments."

She laughed through her tears. Zaviyar took the photo from her hands and held her from her shoulders.

"I miss those days when your father could come back no matter how far he had gone to."

She cupped the side of his face and kissed his forehead.

"Everyday, I thank the Almighty that your kid will not have a fate like yours. That child will not miss you on his or her birthday, the school functions, trips, Everything."

His whole completely incomplete childhood swirled before his eyes. He held onto his mother like he would even all those years back.

"You're angry with me aren't you?"

Khadija asked softly. Zaviyar shook his head which was resting on her shoulder.

"I can never be angry with you, Maa."

"Still, you should know the answers to the questions you must have in your mind."

"They can wait. You don't have to explain everything to me. You talk when you are ready to talk."

"I'm ready. If I weren't, I wouldn't have given those papers to you and Mr. Yasir."

Zaviyar kept quiet. The papers had come to him like a shocker. His mother had hidden a big fact from him. His father had already opted out of Duraid inheritance, stating that him and his family will not have rights to any shares. Zaviyar was kept in the dark by both Khadija and Yahya Duraid all his life. Thank god he had never taken the assets of his family seriously or claimed a right on those. He had chosen his own way very early on in life and Khadija always encouraged him going against the family. Now he knew why.

"The situation with Sultan Bakht had drawn your father away from his family. He had stopped attending social gatherings with them, always out of the city or country. He was trying to part with his father professionally as well but it wasn't easy. Yahya Duraid wasn't having any of it. Zaigham couldn't leave the house. Ammi Jaan was adamant. This was caging. Your grandparents are pretty good at it. Your father just wanted out. He was fed up with everything, and he did everything to show it. He wasn't like you, Zaviyar. He was hot headed. So, he came up with the papers. Yahya Duraid was livid but so was your father. He made it clear that he didn't want anything to do with the family business. More importantly, he wanted his family away from the clutches of all this, you and me. Few days later, the doom hit us all. Your father died in a car accident. My whole world turned upside down, Zaviyar. I wasn't sure what was reality and what was my imagination. For days I was in a daze. My parents wanted me to go with them. Yahya Duraid came to me. No matter how much of a bad guy he had become his love for your father was genuine. I listened to him and then I contemplated. You were just a kid. You might even not remember what it was, having your father close. When you lose a loved one, your whole life shakes off from its base, Zaviyar. You have to start over and after much thinking, I decided to give your grandfather a chance. You were my main concern. You needed to be close to your father's memories, some semblance of his being, or the echoes of that. I wanted you to know your father's family, grow up in the house he grew up in. My intention wasn't bad. I hadn't forgotten about your father and what he had faced, what he had lost but he was gone and you were with me. I had to think about you. I'm sorry, Zaviyar. You can say your mother makes poor decisions, has a knack of ignoring important details. Your mother isn't perfect. But now I know the things I tried to brush under the rug, how they have caught up to me. I paid a price I hope no mother has to pay. That's why I'm trying to do anything I can to help you. I can't undo my earlier actions but I can make our present and future easier."

By now she was crying holding Zaviyar's hand. Right this moment, Zaviyar felt even if he brought the world to her, that wouldn't be enough. He had always been the focus point of his mother's life. Her every struggle, every compromise was just for something she had thought for him. He was in no position of holding her responsible for anything. He couldn't. The two women in his life had taught him you really can;t blame someone for their choices especially when they had not any option to choose from. He wouldn't judge because he wasn't at their place.

"I came here to talk to you, not for you to explain all this to me. I didn't want you to feel ashamed nor did I want you to cry. Don't, cry Maa! I'm no one to hold you responsible for something I had no idea about. I wasn't the one who had lost her everything and had to start over. These circumstances were in no one's hand. So, we should just look forward to the future and try making it better. This is our main focus now."

Khadija was feeling light after telling her side of the story to him. She would always be glad that even though he could tell her where she was wrong, he hadn't done it. He was still trying to look at the brighter side. Her conscience won't always be satisfied but at least she was doing something. That's the whole point of it. Making mistakes but not being proud of them. She was not proud of her choices which had turned into mistakes. But Zaviyar was right. Now wasn't the time to lament over what was lost.

Zaviyar held her from her shoulders and wiped her tears. Her every reasoning was justified. But that's not what he was thinking about. Bukhari had hinted at a possibility. Zaigham Ali's accident. And if Yahya Duraid had even a tiny role to play in it then Zaviyar didn't know what kind of monster they all had put their trust and love in. He hadn't told Khadija about it. Only Harram knew. It would only make Khadija some more remorseful and blame herself for everything and Zaviyar didn't want this at all.

"We should get to breakfast. Harram is waiting for us. And you are making coffee as your favourite daughter in law can't still get it right."

Khadija smiled with puffy eyes.

"My only daughter in law and this should always stay this way or else you can find yourself another place to stay. You are being warned."

Zaviyar felt a smile making its way. The ever easy going vibe was back. He was missing it. Usual is good. At least somewhere it was back.

______________

When Ansa Khurram had married her daughter off, she was the happiest woman alive. Jiya was going to a household where she was loved and respected, Ansa's whole family was present and they all took their part in the joyous occasion. No one could say a few months after this, a storm would hit them all. The storm that would leave nothing in its wake. From the day to her beloved nephew's death to the moment when he stood firm against her father, Ansa couldn't believe her tight knitted family had faced all this.

Right now she was seeing her mother standing in the door to the garden, looking at the scenery outside. The always prime and sharp looking Mrs. Aneesa Yahya was like a hollow remembrance of who she once was. She had come to stay with Ansa a few days back. What her stance was on the ongoing situation, Ansa didn't know. Mrs. Aneesa wasn't big on talking these days. She'd just keep on staring into nothingness forgetting her surroundings.

"We should make her talk."

Naima, her younger sister told Ansa who just shook her head. Mrs. Aneesa wouldn't say anything, no matter how much you tried.

"This can't go on like this, Aapa."

"But it will. Ammi Jaan won't budge."

Naima covered her face with her palms. The ever changing circumstances had shaken everyone at Duraid House and related to it.

"I don't even know whom to side with. Just one thing is clear, nothing's going back to the way it was. Abba Jaan can't do any such thing but when I see Zaviyar's face on the TV, the whole scenario of his death swirls before my eyes and I feel like no! Something is definitely not adding up. Never had I thought we'll face this. Not even in my dreams."

"Zaviyar Isn't a liar. We've known the kid all our lives. He's practically grown up in front of our eyes. I can't call him a manipulator because he isn't one. But telling my heart that my father and brother are involved in such a vile thing, I find myself staggering, Naima. This is harder than anything we've faced so far."

Both sisters were sharing their confusion with each other when the heavy footsteps coming towards the room alerted them. Getting up, both looked towards the entrance to the lounge and found a frustrated Yahya Duraid.

"Where's your mother?"

He snarled like a wounded animal. On not finding them saying anything, he looked around. His eyes narrowed in slits as he reached the raised step Mrs. Aneesa was standing on. Her expressionless face registered his presence for a moment and then turned back to her previous task.

"You sent Safina to them!"

It wasn't a question, rather a statement. Mrs. Aneesa didn't say anything. Her grayish black hair was folded into a neat bun. The same old. But the anger with which she used to charge on him during their arguments was gone.

"Why did you do this, Aneesa Begum?"

He was getting impatient. There were no doubts who was behind Safina's presence in the court. She was just a mere servant, a foolish one. Easy to frightened. But the way she had come forward with the actual version of the happening, it was clear she had someone backing her to go ahead and Yahya Duraid knew in his kingdom only the queen had that much power.

"Do you remember how many kids we have?"

The question was rhetorical. Yahya Duraid narrowed his eyes.

"Four. And one of them is dead. He was mad at us when it happened. Wasn't happy. Ready to separate his existence from our world."

She picked on the flower blooming to its full swing. Life is often like these flowers only. Picked on without reaching its full potential.

"I still remember his face. Whenever Zaviyar smiles his eyes light up the same way Zaigham used to. But, now Zaviyar doesn't smile at me. He's either sad or angry. Sometimes he doesn't even show that as well. My grandson has become a stranger."

She tilted her head towards him.

"All because of you!"

A tear had made its way down her cheek. The first reaction in days. The lava was there inside. It wasn't just getting a proper way of getting out.

"Do you know why I left the house? Because in a few days that house is becoming a ruin! You've broken my family! I will never forgive you for this! Never!"

A shadow had passed over Yahya Duraid's face. He took two steps back as if stung.

"You can't see it yet but you aren't getting away this time! This isn't Zaigham who would just get out! This is Zaviyar! He knows a fight when one is given to him! Be ready to taste defeat, Yahya! Be ready!"

"That won't happen! I'll never let it!"

His shaky voice boomed in the house. He took long strides and was out of there without looking back. Mrs. Aneesa shook her head with contempt written on her face. Denial is the first step of defeat.

__________________

Zaviyar looked at the printed photographs in front of him and then at Harram who was deep in concentration.

"I don't know about you but my gut feeling is saying he's someone important."

She was looking sure. Zaviyar was an intelligent man. This woman had worked out all the riddles she had faced while finding him. He wouldn't important something if she was telling him it looked important to her.

After breakfast, Harram had pulled him inside their room and showed him what she had found out through Tania. The point had weight to it. It was true, the man was in every photograph but even Zaviyar didn't know who he was. The internet searching Harram had already done was without any success.

"We need more information. Should I call Waleed?"

Harram shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know. The internet is blank when it comes to this guy. Waleed can't do much. I'll try looking up again. You guys should focus on the next hearing. This can wait."

They were going to bring Sheraz's murder and Muskan into it. The points were done. The hope for another good proceeding was high.

"Palwisha auntie would be here any time now. We should go."

Harram said rolling the pictures. A thoughtful expression was settled on Zaviyar's face. Palwisha had agreed to go along looking for anything Sultan Bakht had left. She wasn't difficult to convince, more than ready to be of any help. Zaviyar was thankful that she was up for this, knowing this was going to be emotionally draining for her.

He nodded when a sudden thought occurred to him. He raised his hand and held Harram's wrist who was about to open the door.

"What?"

She asked, confused. Zaviyar looked straight into her eyes.

"While I'm gone, you won't bring out the iron lady in you and go looking for this guy. You'll stay here and wait for me and Palwisha auntie to come back. No sneaking out."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Still, promise me."

His no nonsense attitude wasn't her favourite but he was making sense. She couldn't just go on doing anything he wanted to in this condition. Back then it was necessary but right now things were different and very much in control. She had no desperation to get to her hostage husband. He was right here close to her and very much capable of taking care of everything. She could take a breath of relief but that didn't mean she was cutting herself away from what was going on. That won't even happen. It was their battle, not his alone. She'd do whatever she could to play her part.

"Promise."

Harram gave him an understanding smile. Zaviyar could see she wasn't happy about the prospect of not being much of a help but both him and her knew she had already done more than expected out of her.

The voices coming from the lounge had them come out of their musings. Palwisha had arrived and was not talking with Khadija. Zaviyar's face shone with determination. It was time to go dig deeper and find out more.

_____________

The area where Palwisha had taken him was in a secluded side of Pindi. The lane was in front of a marriage hall behind which was a slum. The irony. Zaviyar's eyes were glued to the makeshift camps of the community behind the vast premises of the hall. The Summer sun was right up at the horizon. The tents were mostly empty. The eerie feeling surrounding had alerted Zaviyar. His sixth sense was working in full force.

"This way."

Palwisha pointed towards the lane right across the road. Zaviyar moved the car in the direction he was being instructed to.

"There used to be a school where the marriage hall is. The slum was a small open restaurant. Guess twenty five years is a long time and the whole outlook of a place can be changed."

Her tone was casual but Zaviyar picked on the longing in it right away. His heart had filled with respect for this woman. She had so much she could mourn on still she had come here just to help him. He had already thanked her, earning himself a mild scolding so he refrained from it this time around no matter how much he wanted to tell her how grateful he was.

On Palwisha's clue Zaviyar stopped the car in front of the second last house in the line. It was distant from all others and quite peculiar. Totally in shatters. The windows were boarded but the years gone hadn't been kind to the wood and it was splintered from many places. The paint outside had worn down and now the cement base was peeking through the peeling flecks of it. The door was loose on its hinges, a strong windy rain away from collapsing.

Palwisha's hooded eyes were getting their fill of the place she had once called home. Her shivering hand raised to touch the rust eaten knob to pull the door open. Zaviyar felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He turned around. Nothing and no one. But he could tell that they were being watched. His grip on the gun in its hostler tightened. On full alert, he followed Palwisha inside making sure to shut the door on his way.

The inside wasn't any better. Everything was a mess coated with a thick layer of dust. The pieces of broken furniture were crunching underneath their shoes. Yahya Duraid's men must've played dollhouse here after getting the work done.

"Everything is destroyed."

Palwisha whispered frantically looking around. Her hands were touching every broken piece evoking a memory. Zaviyar followed her line of vision with pained expressions. Hoping for finding something here was wishful thinking. The reality was clear in front of them. Yahya Duraid's men had rampaged the whole house. It didn't take a genius to know why they did that. They were in search of any proof. So, if something had even been here, it was long gone.

Disappointment engulfed Zaviyar. Palwisha was also looking dejected. It was futile, coming here and risking their lives. There was nothing in a single piece. Everything was destroyed.

Zaviyar held Palwisha's shoulder. She immediately stopped her sobs which were on the surface of a well deserved break down. She was standing in the graveyard of her life. Everything here was dead. No one could say this place had once a happy family living inside it.

"Let's go."

She whispered taking slow steps towards the door. Zaviyar hadn't said anything. He had no words to console her. When he sat inside the car Palwisha had composed herself but the remnants of tears were still there in broken streaks.

"Auntie...I..."

Zaviyar had opened his mouth to say something when the door to Palwisha's side rattled. Zaviyar reached out to the gun in nanoseconds. Palwisha was looking outside as if in a trance. Aman with matted hair and beard was struggling to open her window.

"Move aside, auntie!"

Zaviyar's gun was ready. He was just a moment away from pulling the trigger when Palwisha stopped him abruptly. Her face was contorted in an expression of disbelief. She slowly rolled the window down. By now, the man had tears in his eyes.

"Asharaf baba!"

Palwisha exclaimed coming out of the car. Zaviyar was looking at the scene unfolding before him with calculating eyes. Palwisha gestured to him to drop his weapon.

"He's not going to harm us. He's part of the family."

She mumbled before breaking down into sobs, clutching the man's hand who himself was shedding tears.

____________________

Harram pushed her laptop away feeling helpless. She still couldn't believe that man had nothing of himself on the internet. A nagging voice at the back of her mind was telling her maybe he wasn't someone important but her intuition was bugging her again and again.

She stared at the picture with a forlorn look on her face.

"You are pretty busy today."

Muskan's comment had amusement to it. She had gotten here just a while back with Meeral. Her presence in the upcoming hearing was confirmed so she was being prepared by both Yasir and Waleed for any kind of questions thrown her way.

The woman was unusual in Harram's opinion. She was more than willing to help them but that was that. She hadn't once opened up about why she wanted to be a part of something that didn't concern her directly. Her only motto was to stay out of trouble and eat like there was no tomorrow.

"What have your panties up in a twist?"

She asked, peeking at Harram's laptop. Harram just shook her head, closing the lid but in the process, Muskan had gotten a good look at the picture Harram had opened. She got up as if she had seen a ghost. Harram was eyeing her shocked at her reaction.

"Muskan!"

She called out but Muskan was still looking lost.

"Muskan, are you okay?"

Harram's voice had brought her back to her surroundings. She wiped the sweat off her face.

"I need to go."

"What? You've just gotten here."

"I'll talk to Waleed over the phone but right now I need out."

She picked up her purse and was out of the room. Her reaction hadn't made any sense to Harram. She listened to the voices from outside. Muskan was asking Meeral to go back to their place where she was staying for the time being. Harram wanted to intervene but then thought against it. Muskan was clearly not comfortable sharing her source of worry. So, it wasn't wise to probe her further. Harran could just hope she'd be okay.

_______________

Ashraf Deen had come to the city in search of work decades back. He wasn't educated, not by any means. So he wasn't looking for something bigger than his ability. He worked in many small scale restaurants and shops before finally landing the job of the house help of a policeman, Sultan Bakht.

Palwisha had found two inhabitants in this house when she settled here after her marriage to Sultan. Sultan and Ashraf Baba. The chores were Ashraf's responsibility and he enjoyed it. His employers were some of the best people he had met in his life and he himself was honest and trustworthy. So, it hadn't taken Sultan Bakht long to trust Ashraf Deen with even his life. But then things had hit a nasty turn. Sultan was killed and Palwisha had vanished altogether. Ashraf Deen hid himself away from the enemy's men. He found himself a shelter away from this area. For years, he was in hiding. Not because he was afraid of dying, he had nothing to lose, no one to mourn him. But he had a responsibility given to him by his Sultan Sahab. A responsibility he wouldn't fail at no matter what.

As Zaviyar looked at the file in front of Palwisha, sitting inside a tent in the slums they had seen earlier, his faith in human loyalty restored. People like Sultan Bakht and Ashraf Deen were proof that it was way too early to get fed up with humanity just yet.

"Sahab had given this to be before the last time he had gone out. He had asked me to take care of this with my life so that's what I did."

He pointed towards the tattered looking covering. Palwisha opened it carefully. On top was a bundle of important looking papers and at the last a photo in which two people were smiling at the camera. Palwisha took it out and smiled through her tears.

"I was mad at him for making me stand for so long just for a picture. Right now, I'm glad he did."

She took a shaky breath and came to Zaviyar. The photo was secured in her hand along with the file.

"All this belongs to you now. Use it well, son. May Allah ease things for you."

Zaviyar's heart mumbled an Ameen as the weight of the file was on his side now.

_______________

Harram watched Zaviyar rummaging through the papers once more. His fingers lingered on the details quoted by Sultan Bakht once more. The small cutting of newspapers and documents here and there. He closed the file. Harram was keenly reading his expressions. She touched the outline of the file as if it could give answers to all their questions.

"Nothing's lost yet, Zaviyar."

"It hasn't but it isn't going to be much of a help when we don't know who's being accused here."

"He raked a hand through his hair.

"Who's HS?"

Harram wished she knew the answer to this question. Being cautious, Sultan Bakht hadn't explicitly called out anyone. The suspects were mentioned in code writing, mostly with their initials. YD for Yahya Duraid, KA for Khalid Aslam but who was HS? Harram tried not to but still her eyes darted towards the printed photos on the coffee table.

_____________

Tum mera badan orh kay phirte raho lekin

Mumkin ho to ek din mera chehra mujhe dena

Shab bhar ki musafat hai gawahi ki talabgar

Aye subh e safar, apna sitara mujhe dena

(You go on wearing my skin around but,

If possible give me my face, one day

The endless journey of night asks for validation

The morning of destiny, give me your star)

The painkillers she had taken in the evening didn't work. Neither did her countless efforts to stay calm. Her head was splitting into two and her panic was just on the surface waiting to be out and eat her whole.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her red rimmed eyes were filled with agony.

"Your first client."

"Please! No!"

"You are an exotic thing."

"Please him and money will never be a problem."

"Muskan? What a name. Seems like you were made for this business."

"NO!"

She closed her eyes and covered her ears. The last thing her mind could register was a sinister laugh and a distant whisper.

"Honadir Sahni has asked for you! You should be proud of yourself."

Tuning out all the clutter in her mind, Muskan had collapsed on the floor.

____________________