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On the other side

Inayah's POV

I sit in my office, my fingers lightly tracing patterns on my desk as my mind drifts back to this morning's incident—another painful reminder of how Mom treats Sifna. She’s nine years younger than me, a gift from Allah that I’d long prayed for. I’d always dreamed of having a little sister, someone to protect, to love fiercely. And yet, while I see her as a blessing, my parents only seem to view her as a disappointment. She wasn’t the heir they desired, just another daughter.

My parents love me, shower me with affection, and in their eyes, I’m the one they’re proud of. But why can’t they give even a sliver of that love to Sifna? Just this morning, Mom didn’t even give her breakfast. I feel a pang in my heart as I think of her sad eyes, that quiet acceptance of neglect she doesn’t deserve.

Lost in thought, I barely notice when an employee comes in to greet me. I quickly snap out of it and smile back, offering a polite nod. Yes, I’m a fashion designer, earning 2.5 lakhs a month. But I always put some money aside for my Sifu—she is my precious little soul, the light in my life. I just want her to achieve her dreams, to find the freedom and happiness our family has withheld from her.

Suddenly, I feel arms wrap around me in a warm, familiar backhug. I turn and sigh with relief. “Maleeha, dara diya mujhe tumne” (Maleeha, you scared me!), I say, playfully scolding her.

With a mischievous grin, she teases, "Kyu, tujhe laga jiju hai?" (Why, did you think it was your fiancé?)

Her words pull me back to reality, to a name I’m supposed to be connected with but feel so distant from—Hamad. We met only once, on our engagement day. Since then, not a single phone call or message. It’s like we’re two strangers bound by fate but kept apart by silence. Perhaps I don’t want to be married yet. I have dreams of my own—to grow in my career, to secure a future for Sifu. But destiny is never so simple, and I can’t help but wonder what lies ahead.

Maleeha pulls me out of my reverie, waving a hand in front of my face. "Are you lost in jiju ke khayalon mein?" (Are you lost in thoughts of your fiancé?)

I roll my eyes, swatting her playfully on the arm. “Chal, kaam kar jaake.” (Go, get to work!)

We both laugh, and the moment feels lighter. For now, I can set aside the questions about my engagement, my family, and my uncertain future. I focus on work, drawing strength from the dreams I have for myself—and, most of all, for Sifu.

Hamad's POV

I walked into my office after the meeting, the sharp scent of polished wood and the faint hum of fluorescent lights doing little to settle the chaos swirling inside me. My mind kept replaying the words from the meeting, but as I set my briefcase down, my phone rang. It was her. My mother.

Without hesitation, I swiped the screen and answered, my voice controlled but guarded. "Yes, maa, why did you call?"

For a brief moment, the line was quiet, and I could feel the weight of her silence pressing in from the other end. There was something in the air, something unspoken, that I knew would change everything. Her voice broke the stillness, though, firm, almost cold. "I have something important to tell you, beta. And I want you to agree to my decision."

My chest tightened. I’d heard that tone before—the one that brooked no argument. My mother, Sabrina Malik, was not a woman to be denied, and even if I felt differently, I knew there was no escaping her will.

"First, tell me what it is, maa," I asked, a knot forming in my throat as the air seemed to grow thicker with each passing second.

The words that followed were like a dagger to my chest. "The marriage date is set. It’s in fifteen days."

I froze, the blood draining from my face as my heart stopped for a split second. Fifteen days. I felt the room tilt, as if the ground beneath me was crumbling away. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All I could hear was the ringing of her words in my ears, echoing over and over in my mind. Fifteen days.

“Maa…” The word left my lips like a desperate plea, trembling with disbelief. I tried to find my voice, but it came out cracked, weak. "Aap mere saath aisa nahi kar sakti hain..." (Maa... you can't do this to me...) The sentence felt incomplete, like there was no way to fully express the crushing weight of what she was asking.

I tried again, my voice shaking with frustration, my heart racing. "Mujhe waqt chahiye maa..." (I need time, maa...) I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—be pushed into something so sudden, so... final. I wasn’t ready for this.

But then her words came back, sharp as a blade, cutting through my hesitations. I already gave you 6 months now not anymore "Agar tum ye shaadi nahi karoge 15 dino mai, toh mujhe apni maa mat samajhna." (If you don't do this marriage in fifteen days, then forget you have a mother.)

The room seemed to close in around me. The world stopped spinning for a moment, leaving nothing but the echo of her voice, echoing a threat that felt like a promise. A promise that could tear everything apart.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but nothing could quiet the storm inside me. I loved her, more than anything. She was the foundation of my life, and I knew she could break me with a single word.

And that was it. That was the moment when I gave up. My heart, which had been fighting this for so long, shattered. Not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice.

"Yes, maa… I agree," I whispered, my voice barely audible even to myself. It felt like betrayal. It felt like the end.

I hung up the phone, staring at the screen for a long, painful second, as if hoping it would somehow change. But it didn’t.

With a sudden surge of anger, I hurled the phone across the room. The sound of it crashing against the floor echoed in the silence, but it didn’t soothe anything. It only made the tension burn hotter.

"Aaaah!" My hands ran through my hair, tugging at it in frustration. I thought I would marry you, Luna after finding you But then, as I stood there in the stillness, the anger inside me twisted into something darker, colder. My fingers traced the edge of my desk, my thoughts turning to someone else, to a plan I hadn’t considered until now.

A sinister smirk curled at the corners of my lips, and a cold fire lit in my chest. I pulled my second phone from my pocket, the one I used for... other matters, the one that wasn’t tied to any obligations. I dialed a number, my tone hard, final. "Meet me at 5 p.m." The words were clipped, dangerous.

I ended the call without waiting for a response, my eyes narrowing as I stared at the door.I get what I want, no matter the cost And this... this was just the beginning.

SIFNA POV

The soft click of the gate behind me signaled my return home as I waved goodbye to Abi and Sid, my only two companions at school. Their laughter still echoed in my ears, a faint reminder of the world outside these walls that felt far less hostile. Adjusting my dupatta carefully, I stepped into the house, the familiar scent of fresh jasmine incense mingling with the faint aroma of tea lingering in the air.

In the living room, my Abbu and Ammi sat together, their faces animated as they discussed something I couldn’t quite hear. Their smiles, warm and rare, brought a flicker of hope to my heart. Maybe today was different. Maybe today would be better.

"Asalamualaikum, Abbu, Ammi," I greeted cheerfully, a genuine smile spreading across my face.

But that fleeting moment of optimism crumbled the instant their eyes met mine. The light in their expressions dimmed, replaced by that familiar shadow of disdain. Ammi’s lips tightened, her brows furrowing in disgust, as though my mere presence had tainted their joy.

"Aa gayi kalmuhi! (The ill-fated one has returned!)" she spat, her voice laced with contempt. "Jaa, jakar baqi ghar ka kaam kar!" (Go and finish the rest of the housework!)

My heart sank, but I forced myself to nod. "Ji, Ammi... par Asar ki namaz padh ke kardungi," (Yes, Ammi, but I’ll do it after offering the Asar prayer,) I replied softly, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

Her sharp tone followed like a whip. "Thik hai thik hai!" (Fine, fine!)

I had barely reached the first step of the staircase when Abbu’s voice, cold and commanding, froze me in my tracks. "Suno, ladki." (Listen, girl.)

I turned slowly, clutching the banister for support. "Ji, Abbu?" (Yes, Abbu?)

His eyes pierced through me, void of any warmth. "Tumhari behen ki shaadi hai 15 dino baad." (Your sister’s wedding is in 15 days.)

A flicker of joy rose within me, an uncontainable smile tugging at my lips. My sweet sister, the one who had shown me love amidst this ocean of hostility—her wedding was something I had dreamed of witnessing. But before the smile could fully bloom, his next words crushed it mercilessly.

"Khush hone ki zarurat nahi hai. Mai tumhe yeh baat nahi batata, lekin isliye bataraha hu ki tum is shaadi mein shamil nahi hogi. Samajh aayi? Tumhara manhoos saaya bhi nahi padna chahiye meri bachi ki khushiyon mein." (Don’t bother being happy. I wouldn’t have even told you this, but I’m saying it so you understand—you will not attend this wedding. Do you understand? Your ill-fated shadow must not fall upon my daughter’s happiness.)

The world seemed to tilt as his words landed like blows to my chest. Tears brimmed at the edge of my eyes, but I bit my lip hard to keep them from spilling. "Ji, Abbu." (Yes, Abbu.) My voice was barely audible as I turned and continued climbing the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

Inside my room, I closed the door behind me, leaning against it as the tears finally broke free. My chest heaved with silent sobs. I slid down to the floor, clutching my knees.

"Ya Allah, aapki har mushkilon par ameen. (Oh Allah, I accept every trial you send my way.) Lekin mere Rab, mujhe meri behen ki shaadi dekhni hai. Ya Allah, mere madad karein!" (But my Lord, I wish to see my sister’s wedding. Oh Allah, please help me!)

I stayed there for a moment, the pain of rejection burning within me. Slowly, I changed into a fresh set of clothes, performed wudhu (ablution), and spread my prayer mat, the one place where my heart always found solace.

As I stood for Salah, the weight in my chest seemed heavier than ever. In the first sajdah (prostration), my tears spilled freely, dampening the prayer mat beneath me.

"Ya Allah, aapki yeh bandi thak gayi hai. Mere Maula, mere madad farma. Mai toot rahi hoon, Ya Rabbi. Mai kamzor pad rahi hoon, mere Rab. Aapke ilawa mera koi nahi hai. Mere madad farma, Ya Illahi." (Oh Allah, this servant of Yours is tired. My Lord, help me. I am breaking, oh my Sustainer. I am becoming weak, my Lord. I have no one besides You. Help me, oh my God.)

When I finished my Salah, I raised my hands in dua (supplication), my heart pouring out its grief.

"Ya Allah, meri behen ki khushiyon ka khayal rakhna. Usne mujhe sab cheezon ka pyaar diya hai. Ya Rabbi, uski zindagi khushiyon se bhar dena." (Oh Allah, take care of my sister’s happiness. She has given me love in all things. My Lord, fill her life with joy.)

After my prayers, I wiped my tears, feeling a fragile sense of calm returning. My duty awaited me. I tied my dupatta firmly, heading to the kitchen to start washing the stack of dishes piled in the sink. The cool water soothed my hands, but my heart remained heavy.

In every clink of the plates, I whispered silent prayers. In every breath, I sought strength. And in every moment, I clung to the hope that Allah would not forsake me, even if the world already had.

Abeeha pov

I waved Sid and Sifu goodbye as their laughter echoed faintly behind the closing car door. Their faces lingered in my mind—Sidra’s bright smile and Sifna’s soft, reserved one. The driver uncle started the car, and as we drove, I leaned back, letting my thoughts drift.

The journey to the mansion didn’t take long. Soon, the familiar towering gates came into view, opening to reveal the grandeur of my home. The mansion, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, stood like a regal palace. Its marble façade gleamed as if adorned with diamonds, and the cascading fountain in the center of the driveway sparkled with every drop. Each window was framed with intricate carvings, and the tall glass panes reflected the sprawling gardens that surrounded the house.

I stepped out of the car, taking in the soft rustling of the wind through the neatly trimmed hedges and the faint chirping of birds settling for the evening. As I approached the entrance, the massive wooden doors, embedded with gold accents, stood invitingly open. Inside, the coolness of the marble floor greeted me, the pristine white reflecting the warm glow of the chandeliers overhead.

The living room was alive with movement and chatter. The marble flooring, veined with hints of gray and gold, stretched expansively, leading to plush blue and gold sofas arranged meticulously around a sleek glass table. The table held an elegant crystal vase, its lilies blooming in perfect symmetry. The soft rustle of curtains, heavy with embroidery, framed the tall windows overlooking the garden. In one corner, the antique grandfather clock chimed faintly, its sound blending seamlessly with the gentle hum of activity.

I set my bag down and hurried straight to Badi Maa, who was telling something to a worker “Badi Maa, I’m back!” I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around her.

“Oh, my precious baby, tum aagyi! (You’re back!)” she said, kissing the top of my head. Her warmth instantly melted away any lingering fatigue. “Chalo, jao jaldi fresh hokar aao. Main tumhare liye kuch banadeti hoon. (Go quickly and freshen up. I’ll prepare the food.)”

I paused, glancing around at the bustling activity. “Badi Maa, ye sab tayariyan kis liye ho rahi hain? (What are all these preparations for?)”

Her smile deepened as she said, “Betu, tumhare Hamad bhai ki shaadi hai 15 dinon baad, aur bohot kaam hai! (Dear, your brother Hamad is getting married in 15 days, and there’s so much to do!)”

“Bhai ki shaadi!” I clapped my hands in excitement, jumping up and down. “Bohot maza aayega! (It’s going to be so much fun!)”

Grinning, I added, “Badi Maa, kya main apni friends Sifna aur Sidra ko invite kar sakti hoon? (Can I invite my friends, Sifna and Sidra?)”

“Ji beta, jisko bhi bulana hai, aap bula lena. (Yes, dear, you can invite whoever you want.)” Her eyes twinkled as she waved me away. “Chalo, abhi tum freshnup hojao apki Maa busy hai baqi cheezon ki tayariyon mai . Jao, fresh hokar neeche aajao. (Now go freshen up you mom is.busy with other arrangements and come downstairs.)”

I nodded and rushed upstairs to my room.

My room was my haven, filled with everything I loved. The walls were painted a soft lavender, contrasting perfectly with the cream-colored curtains framing the large windows. My canopy bed, with its delicate sheer drapes, was piled with plush cushions and an embroidered quilt. The marble-topped study table by the window reflected the sunlight streaming in, casting a golden glow over my books and trinkets. A small corner was dedicated to my prayer mat, its deep burgundy color standing out against the light hues of the room.

I quickly freshened up and offered my Salah. As I bowed in prayer, I whispered heartfelt duas (prayers) for my family, my friends, and most of all, for Sifna. She needed those prayers the most.

---

When I went downstairs, the smell of something sweet greeted me. Badi Maa called me into the dining area, her face glowing with a soft smile.

“Lo beta, khao. (Here, dear, eat),” she said, handing me a bowl.

“What is it, Badi Maa?” I asked curiously.

“Rasmalai,” she replied, watching me eagerly take a spoonful.

My eyes lit up at the creamy, sweet flavor. “You know, Badi Maa, Sifu also loves rasmalai!” I exclaimed, savoring another bite.

Badi Maa chuckled, but her expression turned thoughtful as she asked, “Sidra toh hamare ghar aati hai, par Sifna kyun nahi aati? (Sidra comes to our house, but why doesn’t Sifna?)”

Her words struck a chord, and my smile faded. I hesitated, the spoon hovering mid-air, before placing it back in the bowl. “Badi Maa, i wanna share something you know she craves her parents’ love, but... they don’t care about her. They always wanted a boy, and when Sifu was born, they hated her.” My voice faltered, and tears threatened to spill as I continued, “They don’t let her go anywhere. They always give her tough time but you know she is so strong she always hope that one allah will giver her parent's love also She watches everything from a distance, longing to be a part of it.”

Badi Maa reached out, her hands warm and comforting as they held mine. “Beta, jab tak tum paida nahi hui thi, hum toh beti ke liye taras gaye the. Aur unko hui, unhe qadar nahi hai. Allah us bachi ko hamesha salamat rakhe. Betiyan toh rehmat hoti hai (Child, until you were born, we longed for a daughter. And they got one, but they don’t value her. May Allah always protect that child. Girls are rehmat)”but some people don't understand it.

Her words broke something inside me, and a single tear slipped down my cheek. “Badi Maa, Sifu is so kind and pure. She deserves so much love, but instead, she’s made to feel like a burden. Sometimes, I wonder how someone so gentle can survive such cruelty.”

Badi Maa wiped my tear, her voice soft but firm. “Abeeha, tum uski dost ho, aur dost ki jagah par koi aur nahi le sakta. Tumhare honay se uski duniya thodi better hai. (Abeeha, you are her friend, and no one can take that place. Your presence makes her world a little better.)”

I nodded, my heart heavy yet determined. If Sifu’s family couldn’t give her the love she deserved, I vowed to make sure she always felt cherished in mine.



I hope you enjoyed the chapter WHAT DO U THINK WHOM HAMAD HAD CALLED AND TOLD TO MEET AT 5PM.

WILL SIFNA BE ABLE TO ATTEND HER SISTER’S WEDDING.

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