A Note from Your Author’s Heart:

To my dearest stars,

I am truly, deeply grateful for each and every one of you. Reading your lovely, overwhelming comments brings me so much joy—I was in tears while going through them. You all are the kind of readers every author dreams of, and I feel incredibly blessed to have you in my life. Alhamdulillah, your love and patience are helping me heal, slowly but surely, and I am so thankful for that.

Your support for me and my book has been nothing short of magical. It’s because of you that I’ve found the strength to come back with renewed energy, ready to keep sharing this journey with you. I promise to keep updating and giving my best to this story, but with my exams starting in February, I might need to take a short pause. I hope you’ll understand and continue to be patient with me, as you’ve always been.

I also have a small request: I upload spoilers and updates for you all on Instagram, but I don’t always see your responses in the comments. I eagerly wait to hear how you feel about the story, your thoughts on the characters, and your excitement for what’s to come! Just like you’ve shown so much love on Wattpad, I’d love to see that same love on Instagram, too—it truly means the world to me.

I know you’re excited for the wedding chapters and everything that follows, but I promise I won’t rush through this story. Every scene, every emotion deserves the time and attention it needs. Trust me, it’ll all be worth the wait. From now on, I’ll continue updating regularly until my exams, and I’ll be back stronger after that.

Please find my Instagram account below—show your love, like, comment, and let me know how you feel about the spoilers. It keeps me connected to you and gives me the motivation to write more.

Thank you for being my stars, for being my strength, and for being part of this journey. I love you all endlessly. Now, enjoy the chapter!

Forever grateful, Your Author Naini

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The maids moved gracefully through the room, trays in hand, as the aroma of freshly prepared snacks wafted through the air. The living room of the Khan villa was bathed in warm afternoon light streaming through the tall windows, enhancing the beauty of the rich, earthy tones of the décor. The guests, dressed elegantly, sat comfortably on the plush sofas, their chatter polite yet lively. Everyone seemed immersed in their conversations, but there was a palpable absence of two people-Sifna and Inayah.

Suddenly, Hamad's mother broke the rhythm of conversation with her calm yet commanding voice. "Behenji, aapko itna sab kuch karne ki zarurat nahi hai," she said, her tone polite but firm. ("Sister, you don't need to do all this.") She glanced at the spread of refreshments. "Hum bas tohfe dekar chale jaayenge. Aap humaari bahu ko bula dijiye. Phir humein rukhsat bhi hona hai." ("We'll just present the gifts and leave. Please call our daughter-in-law. We have to take our leave soon.")

Abeeha, sitting close to her Badi Maa, leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Badi, itni jaldi kya hai jaane ki?" she whispered conspiratorially. "Humein Sifna ke saath bhi baatein karni hai." ("Why the rush to leave? We need to talk to Sifna too.")

Badi Maa turned to her, puzzled. "Beta, aapki dost yaha kaise aayegi?" she asked softly. ("Dear, how would your friend come here?")

Abeeha smirked knowingly. "Badi Maa, wait and watch," she replied with a playful wink, leaning back into her seat confidently.

Meanwhile, Inayah's mother nodded graciously to Hamad's mother. "Aap log baithiye, main Inayah ko lekar aati hoon," she said, excusing herself as she made her way toward the room. ("You all please sit. I'll bring Inayah.")

---

In the quiet sanctuary of her room, Inayah fidgeted with her dupatta, her fingers nervously smoothing its delicate embroidery. She stole a glance at Sifna, who sat nearby, equally uneasy. Inayah's mind raced at the thought of introducing Sifna to her in-laws.

"Kya lagta hai, sab theek rahega?" Sifna asked softly, her voice betraying her anxiety. ("Do you think everything will be okay?")

Inayah, though nervous herself, tried to put on a brave face. "Jab tak mai hoon, tujhe kisi cheez ki chinta karne ki zarurat nahi," she assured, her voice steady. ("As long as I'm here, you don't need to worry about anything.")

Before either could say more, a firm knock broke the silence. Sifna, always quick to act, got up. "Di, mai kholti hoon. Aap aram se baithiye," she said, her voice calm but her heart pounding. ("Sister, I'll open it. You sit comfortably.")

When Sifna opened the door, their mother stood there, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Sifna's carefully dressed appearance. Her face twisted with irritation. "Ladki, tum itna kyun saj dhaj ke baithi ho, huh?" she snapped, stepping forward threateningly. ("Girl, why are you so dressed up, huh?")

Before Sifna could react, their mother raised her hand, intent on delivering a slap. But her action was stopped mid-air as Inayah's iron grip caught her wrist. The sudden move left their mother startled, and she turned to see Inayah's face, which was now flushed with rage. Her bloodshot eyes seemed to burn with a fiery resolve.

"Kaha tha na maine? Kaha tha maine ya nahi ki dobara ispe haath uthaya toh mai chhodungi nahi?" Inayah's voice was low, yet it cut through the air like a knife. ("Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say that if you raised your hand on her again, I wouldn't let it go?")

Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Inayah leaned in closer, a sinister smirk spreading across her face. "Mehman neeche hai," she whispered into her mother's ear, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Kya bolti hai aap? Shaadi tod doon?" ("The guests are downstairs. What do you say? Should I call off the wedding?")

Her mother's face turned ashen, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. "Ye... ye kya keh rahi ho?" she stammered, her voice barely audible. ("W-what are you saying?")

Inayah straightened, her gaze never leaving her mother's panicked face. "Sahi keh rahi hoon, Miss Khan," she said coldly. "Agar aap chahti hain shaadi theek se ho jaye, toh chup chap neeche jaaiye. Sifna mujhe lekar aayegi." ("I'm telling the truth, Miss Khan. If you want this wedding to proceed smoothly, go downstairs quietly. Sifna will bring me down.")

Without waiting for a response, Inayah turned her back on her mother and walked toward Sifna, who stood frozen by the door, her hands trembling. Inayah placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, her voice softening. "Chal neeche chalte hain," she said. ("Let's go downstairs.")

Noticing Sifna's nervousness, Inayah stopped and gently held her shoulders. "Janti ho, bachha," she said reassuringly. "Bohot sawal puchenge, lekin jab tak mai hoon, tab tak koi ungli nahi uthayega tujh par." ("You know, dear, they'll ask a lot of questions, but as long as I'm here, no one will dare point a finger at you.")

Her words seemed to calm Sifna, who nodded hesitantly. With one final reassuring smile, Inayah took her hand and intertwined their fingers protectively. Together, they descended the grand marble staircase, their steps steady and resolute, ready to face whatever awaited them. As Inayah and Sifna descended the grand, spiraling staircase, every eye in the opulent living room turned toward them. The faint tinkling of their anklets echoed in the vast space, a subtle yet melodious sound that added to their graceful aura. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the towering glass windows, bathing the room in a golden glow, and the intricate zari work on their outfits shimmered with every step they took. Inayah walked with an air of quiet confidence, her gaze steady and composed, while Sifna clung tightly to her sister's hand, her nervousness evident in her hesitant steps and the way she bit her lower lip.

The Malik family, seated in the plush living area adorned with antique wooden furniture and Persian rugs, exchanged puzzled glances. Who was this girl? Why was she walking down with Inayah? The confusion in their eyes was palpable. Only Abeeha and Sidra seemed unfazed, their faces lighting up the moment they spotted Sifna.

Finally, as they reached the last step, both sisters paused, their poised demeanor drawing admiration and curiosity alike. Together, they greeted the room with a soft yet firm, "As-Salaam-Alaikum."

A chorus of polite responses followed, "Wa-Alaikum-Salaam," but the underlying curiosity among the guests was impossible to miss.

As they approached the family, Abeeha and Sidra could no longer contain their excitement. They sprang from their seats, rushing toward Sifna like two eager children. Their faces were bright with joy, their arms outstretched as they enveloped her in a tight hug.

"Oh, Sifna! Humne tumhe kitna miss kiya!" Abeeha exclaimed, her voice bubbling with emotion. ("Oh, Sifna! We missed you so much!")

Sidra chimed in, "Bilkul sahi kaha, itni der tak humse door reh kar tumhe sharam nahi aayi?" ("Exactly! How could you stay away from us for so long?")

At first startled, Sifna soon relaxed into their embrace, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Maine bhi tum dono ko bohot miss kiya," she replied softly, her voice tinged with sincerity. ("I missed you both so much too.")

As they stepped back, the Malik family exchanged even more confused looks.Sabrina, raised an eyebrow, her piercing gaze fixed on the unfamiliar girl standing beside Inayah. Her silence was enough to demand answers, but it was Sara, Hamad's aunt, who finally spoke up.

"Haniya, tumne kabhi bataya hi nahi ki tumhari ek aur beti bhi hai," Sara said, her tone sharp and questioning. ("Hania, you never told us you had another daughter.")

She leaned forward slightly, her scrutinizing eyes narrowing. "Aur jab Inayah ki sagaai hui thi, tab bhi yeh mojud nahi thi tumne kabhi humein nahi bataya? Yeh sab kyun chhupaya tumne?" ("And even during Inayah's engagement, she was not present and you didn't tell us about her ? Why did you hide this?")When Sara had pointedly questioned Haniya earlier, all the color had drained from Haniy's face. Her breathing quickened, and sweat beads began to form on her forehead. Her dupatta slipped slightly from her shoulder, but she was too paralyzed to adjust it.

Her hands trembled as they gripped the edge of the sofa, her knuckles turning white. Her lips parted to form a response, but no words came out. Panic flashed in her eyes as she darted a glance toward her husband, but he simply stared ahead, unwilling to offer any assistance.

Inayah caught the fleeting desperation on her mother's face and felt a rush of satisfaction. Her smirk deepened slightly, though she kept it subdued. "Abhi toh bas trailer hai, aage dekho. Har aansu ka hisaab barabar hoga, jo meri behen ke gire hain tumhari aur papa ki wajah se," she thought to herself, a steely resolve in her heart. ("This is just the trailer. Watch what comes next. Every tear shed by my sister because of you and father will be accounted for.")

Hania's nervous state didn't go unnoticed by the Malik family. Sabrina's sharp eyes zeroed in on her pale face, her own expression hardening with suspicion. She leaned forward slightly, her voice cutting through the silence. "Batao, Hania. Kyun aaj tak humein nahi bataya? Chup kyun ho?" Sabrina demanded, her tone authoritative. ("Tell us, Hania. Why didn't you tell us till now? Why are you silent?")

Hania flinched at the direct question, her shoulders visibly stiffening. She fumbled with her dupatta, pulling it over her head in an attempt to compose herself, but it was clear to everyone in the room that she was shaken. Her lips moved as though to speak, but her voice was faint and incoherent.

It was then that Sifna, standing beside Inayah, stepped forward. Her small frame exuded a quiet courage, and her soft, soothing voice instantly captured everyone's attention.

"Aunty, main batati hoon," she began, her tone respectful yet steady. ("Aunty, I'll explain.")

Sifna's interjection was unexpected, and the room fell silent. Even Haniya looked up in surprise, her wide eyes meeting her younger daughter's calm and composed demeanor. Sifna folded her hands slightly, bowing her head in a gesture of respect.

"Pehle toh mujhe maafi chahiye, kyunki bade baat karte hain toh chhote ko beech mein nahi bolna chahiye," she said softly, her cheeks tinged with nervousness. ("First of all, I apologize because when elders are speaking, younger ones shouldn't interrupt.")

Her sincerity caught everyone off guard, and Sabrina, though skeptical, leaned back slightly, intrigued by the girl's demeanor.

"Woh engagement ke time main isliye nahi aayi thi, kyunki main unn dino bohot bimaar thi," Sifna continued, her innocent eyes meeting Sabrina's. ("I didn't come to the engagement because I was very sick during that time.")

She paused, glancing briefly at Inayah, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. "Aur mera zikr isliye nahi hua, kyunki aap toh jaanti hain, sab logh kaam mein kitne busy hote hain." ("And I wasn't mentioned because, you know, everyone is so busy with work ")

Her lips curved into a soft smile, and her tone turned even gentler. "Aunty, meri ammi bohot achhi hain. Unhone kuch nahi chhupaya. Sab bas waise hi hua," she said, tilting her head slightly, her innocent charm disarming even the sharpest of gazes. ("Aunty, my mom is really nice. She didn't hide anything. Everything just happened as it did.")

Sabrina exchanged a skeptical glance with Sara, but the Malik matriarch found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Sifna's genuine tone and unassuming presence seemed to dissolve much of the tension in the room. Hania, who had been frozen in fear, exhaled shakily, relief briefly washing over her face as the focus shifted away from her.

Sifna turned to Sabrina with a shy yet determined look. "Aunty, rasam shuru kare?" she asked, her voice soft but steady. ("Aunty, shall we start the ceremony?")

Her innocent smile and soft words seemed to diffuse some of the tension, but Inayah knew the battle wasn't over. She glanced at her mother, who still looked pale and defeated, and thought to herself, "Yeh toh sirf shuruaat hai." ("This is just the beginning.")

The sisters stood together, their bond unshakable, as the weight of unspoken truths hung in the air. The room was alive with whispers, but Inayah held her head high, knowing she had taken the first step in seeking justice for Sifna Sabrina, though still suspicious, nodded slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. The room, which had been heavy with tension moments ago, began to relax as everyone adjusted their postures and prepared for the ceremony to proceed.

As the tension in the room eased, the conversation began to flow more freely, creating an atmosphere of warmth and familiarity. Inayah, with her natural grace and poise, approached Hamad's family members one by one, greeting them with affectionate hugs.

She first hugged Hamad's aunts, Sara and Zara, whose laughter filled the room like a melody. Then, she embraced Hamad's sisters, who giggled and teased her lightly about her upcoming wedding. Finally, she moved toward Sabrina, Hamad's mother, and shared a quiet moment of understanding.

Inayah's warmth seemed to weave a delicate thread of connection, dissolving the earlier tension. Everyone's focus soon shifted to Sifna, who had remained standing quietly by Inayah's side.

Sabrina, noticing the petite girl who had captured everyone's attention, turned to her with a soft smile. Her voice was gentle, almost maternal, as she said, "Sifna beta, aap humein gale nahi lagaengi? Aap bhi toh hamari beti jaisi hain." ("Sifna dear, won't you give me a hug? You're like a daughter to us.")

The words caught Sifna off guard. Her heart ached with emotions she had tried so hard to bury. Her eyes welled with tears, but she quickly blinked them away, not wanting to reveal her vulnerability. She managed a small, shy smile and glanced toward Inayah for reassurance.

Abeeha and Sidra, who had been observing quietly, exchanged a knowing look. They understood the depth of Sifna's emotions-her longing for acceptance, love, and the familial warmth she had been deprived of for so long.

Clearing her throat softly, Sifna turned toward Sabrina and replied in a gentle voice, "Ji aunty, kyun nahi? Zaroor." ("Yes, aunty, why not? Of course.")

She stepped forward and embraced Sabrina. As Sabrina's arms wrapped around her, an unexpected feeling of connection washed over both of them. Sabrina felt an unexplainable warmth, as if she had found a piece of herself in this girl. Sifna, on the other hand, felt a fleeting moment of safety, something she had rarely experienced.

Sabrina held her tightly, her hand gently patting Sifna's back. When they parted, Sabrina's eyes lingered on the young girl, her expression soft and reflective.

Not wanting to be left out, Aunt Sara extended her arms and said, "Hamari bhi baari hai. Aao, beta." ("It's our turn too. Come here, dear.")

Sifna smiled through her hidden tears and hugged Aunt Sara. Her genuine warmth made Sara's usually sharp demeanor soften.

Finally, Aunt Zara stood up with her arms open. "Beta, tumhare bina rasam kaise complete hoti? Aao, yeh bhi kar lete hain." ("Dear, how can the ceremony be complete without you? Come, let's do this too.")

Sifna laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease, and embraced Aunt Zara as well.

Each hug seemed to chip away at the invisible walls surrounding her heart. While the Malik family may not have fully understood Sifna's pain, their small gestures of acceptance and kindness began to create cracks in her guarded exterior.

Inayah watched it all unfold with a quiet pride. Her heart swelled with joy, knowing that her sister was finally experiencing even a fraction of the love she deserved. As Sifna returned to her side, Inayah slipped her hand into Sifna's, squeezing it lightly in support.

Abeeha and Sidra, sitting to the side, exchanged glances once more. Sidra whispered softly, "Dekha? Maine kaha tha na, sab theek hoga." ("See? I told you everything would be fine.")

Abeeha nodded, her gaze fixed on Sifna, who was now smiling-a genuine, radiant smile that lit up her face. "Haan, lekin iski kahani kitni alag hai. Mujhe lagta hai, humari masoom si gudiya ne sab ke dil jeet bhi liya ." ("Yes, but her story is so different. I feel like our innocent doll has already won all the hearts.")

The atmosphere in the room had shifted entirely. The Malik family now seemed to include Sifna as one of their own, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the stirrings of hope-a hope that she might finally have a place where she belonged.As everyone settled into their seats, the room buzzed with a blend of anticipation and curiosity. Sabrina Malik, seated gracefully at the center,Her smile was warm, yet it carried the authority of someone who knew how to command a room."Chaliye, rasam shuru karte hain," she announced, her voice laced with excitement. ("Let's begin the ceremony.")She reached for her phone and dialed a number, her tone soft but firm. "Sara saman andar le aaiye," she instructed. ("Bring everything inside.")Within moments, the air buzzed with activity. Servants began carrying in an array of lavish items, each piece more opulent than the last. The first to arrive were the enormous boxes of chocolates-gleaming gold wrappers of Ferrero Rocher stacked high, each box adorned with ribbons and glittering embellishments. Smaller boxes containing imported chocolates followed, featuring brands most hadn't even heard of.

Adorable teddy bears were carried in next, each one plush and holding a small token-miniature jars of honey or ribbons tied around their necks. They added a whimsical charm amidst the luxury. Then came trays of dazzling jewelry boxes, crafted from velvet and adorned with intricate golden designs. When opened, they revealed necklaces, earrings, and bracelets that sparkled like tiny galaxies.

The next round of items included decorative luggage pieces, their surfaces embroidered with floral and geometric patterns in gold and silver threads, signifying a bride's journey into her new home. Alongside them were stacks of clothes-heavy lehengas, shimmering sarees, and regal anarkalis in deep jewel tones and pastel shades, all meticulously folded and arranged.

Bowls of dry fruits, jars of honey, and luxurious spices like saffron added to the extravagant display. The scent of roasted almonds and pistachios mingled with the faint fragrance of sandalwood from the decorative trays.

The Khan family watched in awe as the Malik family's generosity unfolded before them. As the lavish gifts were revealed and the Khan family admired the abundance around them, Inayah's mother's eyes shimmered with an unmistakable greed. The jewels, chocolates, and luxurious clothes caught her attention, and the hunger in her gaze didn't go unnoticed. Inayah, who had been watching her mother closely, felt a small, knowing smirk curve across her lips. In her mind, she thought, "Kar lo kitna lalach karna hai. Soon, you will be bankrupt, Miss Khan. Soon." ("Do as much greed as you want. Soon, Miss Khan, you'll be bankrupt.")

Sabrina, however, remained unphased by the undercurrents of envy. She turned towards Inayah, her voice still warm and kind, as if she hadn't noticed the visible shift in Inayah's mother's demeanor. "Beta, yeh sab sirf ek tareeka hai batane ka ki aap hamare liye kitni khaas hain. Tumhare bina humare ghar ka chaman ab adhoora hai." ("Dear, this is just our way of showing how special you are to us. Without you, our home would be incomplete.")

Inayah, overwhelmed by the warmth, folded her hands in respect, her face a mask of sweetness. "Aunty, yeh sab bohot zyada hai. Mujhe sirf aapka pyaar aur duaein chahiye." ("Aunty, this is all too much. I only need your love and blessings.")

Sabrina smiled tenderly, her hands reaching up to gently pat Inayah's cheek. "Beta, tumhare pyaar ke bina yeh sab bekaar hai. Tumhare aane se tum humare ghar mak khushiyan lekar aaogi." ("Dear, without your love, all of this would be meaningless. Your arrival will bring happiness to our home.")

As Sabrina hugged Inayah, a shift in Inayah's emotions occurred. Beneath her warm exterior, sadness began to churn. I am sorry, aunty, I know how much you've come to love me, but I'm deceiving you all. Forgive me. This marriage will never happen. I will get my sister out of here and without your son, I can't do this. Both of us don't want this marriage, not at all. The dark thought weighed heavily on Inayah's heart, even as she embraced Sabrina, who continued to whisper soothing words.

Meanwhile, Sifna sat quietly with Abeeha and Sidra, her faint smile hiding a deep turmoil. As she gazed at the scene unfolding, her thoughts wandered. Ya Allah, in khushiyon ko kisi ki nazar mat lagne dena. ("Oh Allah, don't let anyone cast an evil eye on these joys.")

Her prayer was interrupted when Sidra leaned in and teased her, "Kaha kho gayi thi? Tum toh muskur rahi thi." ("Where did you go? You were smiling.")

Sifna quickly blinked, bringing herself back to the moment. "Allah ka shukar kar rahi thi, Sid. Meri Di ko kitni achi family mili hai." ("I was thanking Allah, Sid. My sister has found such a good family.")

Sidra smiled warmly and side-hugged her. Sifna's heart warmed, but the weight of the secrets she was keeping loomed large. As they broke their hug, Abeeha stood up and said, "Mai abhi aayi." ("I'll be right back.") She walked toward the kitchen, her footsteps light.

Inayah, noticing her sister's departure, tilted her head in curiosity. "Kahan ja rahi ho, Sifna?" ("Where are you going, Sifna?")

Sifna's voice was soft as she replied, "Bas, abhi aayi Di." ("Just going to get something, Di.") Inayah nodded absentmindedly and returned to her conversation with her in-laws, but without anyone noticing, Sifna's mother had quietly slipped behind her into the kitchen as well.

When Sifna stepped into the kitchen, her gaze immediately fell on her mother, and a wave of terror gripped her heart. Her voice trembled as she stuttered, "Ammi, kuch chahiye aapko?" ("Mother, do you need something?")Sifna stood frozen in the kitchen, her body trembling as her mother's grip tightened around her wrist, pulling her back. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the cruel words her mother spoke felt like a knife to her soul.

"Ammi ki bachi, bada maza aa raha hai, haina? Tune Inayah ko mujhse cheen liya, kalmuhi." ("You little traitor, having so much fun, huh? You snatched Inayah away from me, you wretch.")

Sifna tried to pull her hand away, but her mother's grip only grew fiercer. She winced in pain, feeling her mother's cold fury seeping into her skin, her heart breaking under the weight of the anger directed at her. "Bas ek baar Inayah ki shaadi hone de, dekh main kya karti hoon phir." ("Just wait till Inayah's marriage happens. Then you'll see what I do.")

Sifna's chest tightened, the emotional weight too much to bear. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. "Ammi, aah dard ho raha hai, chhod dijiye." ("Mother, it hurts, please let me go.") Her voice cracked, but her mother didn't relent.

In that moment, the sound of Abbeeha's voice calling out from the hallway broke through the suffocating tension. "Sifna!"

Sifna wiped her tears furiously, desperate to hide the pain that was flooding her. She quickly turned away from her mother, pulling herself together as best as she could. But her mother, ever the manipulator, switched to a softer tone, as though nothing had happened. "Beta, kuch chahiye aapko?" ("Dear, do you need something?")

Abbeeha, knowing exactly what had transpired, didn't fall for the act. Her voice was cool and controlled as she responded, "Nahi aunty, kuch nahi chahiye. Sifna ko waqt lag raha tha, isliye aayi." ("No, aunty, nothing is needed. Sifna was taking some time, so I came to check on her.")

Sifna's mother smiled sweetly, but the malice in her eyes was still evident. "Achha, theek hai beta. Aap bahar aa jao." ("Alright, dear. Please come out.")

As Sifna's mother left the kitchen, Abbeeha turned to face her, her eyes softening in concern. She gently cupped Sifna's face in her hands, making her look up. "Dusri taraf se aansu pochegi toh mujhe pata nahi chalega. Chal, chupchaap se rona band kar. InshaAllah, sab thik hoga. Mera dil kehta hai." ("If you wipe your tears the other way, I won't even know. Come on, stop crying quietly. InshaAllah, everything will be okay. My heart says so.")

Sifna's heart tightened as she looked into Abbeeha's eyes, searching for the comfort she so desperately needed. The weight of the world felt like it was on her shoulders, but Abbeeha's calm reassurance somehow soothed her. She wiped her tears quickly, trying to compose herself.

The words Abbeeha spoke were a reminder of the hope she clung to-hope that things would somehow work out despite the storm that surrounded her. With a final, shaky breath, Sifna nodded, feeling her resolve harden just a little bit more. She knew the road ahead would be treacherous, but she also knew she wasn't alone.

Sifna's POV

After the brief exchange in the kitchen, we both went back inside, and we settled down in the living room. I could feel Inayah's gaze lingering on me, her sharp eyes noticing everything, but she didn't say a word. I wasn't sure whether she had already figured it out, or if she would keep her thoughts to herself. Either way, it felt like I was walking a tightrope with every moment that passed.

Sabrina aunty, too, had noticed my red eyes. Her gaze softened with concern, and her voice was filled with warmth as she asked, "Beta, why are your eyes so red?"

I quickly replied, trying to mask the pain, "Woh aunty, kachra chala gaya thaa." ("Aunty, it was just the dust.") I could feel the weight of the lie on my tongue, but it was the only thing I could say in the moment. Sabrina aunty gave me a small nod, still studying me with concern. "Dhyaan rakhna." ("Be careful.")

As she spoke, the guilt gnawed at me, and a prayer formed in my heart. "I know, Allah, lying is the source of all kinds of evil and mischief, and a major sin. Please forgive me for lying twice today. Don't be upset with me, and forgive me. Please, Allah, forgive me."

Just as I was lost in these thoughts, I was gently pulled back to the present when Sabrina aunty's voice interrupted my silent plea. "Betaa, Sifna, aao, thodi der humare paas baitho." ("Dear, Sifna, come, sit with us for a while.")

I nodded, grateful for the chance to focus on something else. I made my way over to where she was sitting, and as I sat beside her, she looked at me warmly, her eyes filled with a kind of motherly affection.

"Kis class mein padhti ho aap?" ("What grade are you in, dear?") she asked softly.

I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside, "12th class."

She smiled, her expression gentle. "Achha, mere bachi," ("Good, my child") she said, her tone like a soft melody that warmed my heart. I couldn't help but feel comforted by her words. It was as if, for a moment, the weight of the world had lifted from my shoulders.

And when she hugged me earlier , I felt an overwhelming sense of safety-a warmth I had never truly felt before. It was motherly love, the kind of love I had longed for but never fully experienced. In that moment, I felt a connection to her, something beyond the usual politeness of family. It was real, genuine affection, and it made my heart ache with longing for the love I had missed.

Author's POV

The room was filled with the soft murmur of conversations, and the warm atmosphere seemed to surround everyone like a comforting blanket. But suddenly, Aunt Zara's voice cut through the gentle chatter, her eyes keenly observing the interaction between Abbeeha, Sidra, and Sifna. "Earlier, you both hugged Sifna like you've known her for ages, like you're best friends. What's the story there?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Sidra, always quick with a smile, grinned brightly and responded with confidence. "Yes, Aunt, of course! We're best friends. We study in the same school," she said, her voice playful, as if to make the moment feel light and breezy.

However, Sabrina's mind was already working, her sharp eyes catching the subtle shift in the air. A thought had clicked in her mind, one that made her lean closer to Abbeeha, who was sitting beside her. She lowered her voice to a mere whisper, ensuring that no one else could hear. "Abi, is this your friend Sifna? The one you always talk about?" Sabrina asked softly, her tone layered with understanding.

Abbeeha, not needing to hear more, nodded quietly. Her face, usually so composed, softened as she looked at Sifna across the room. Sabrina, having now connected the dots, could understand. It all made sense-the innocence in Sifna's eyes, the fragility she carried with her, and the kindness that seemed to radiate from her. It was no wonder Abbeeha had spoken so fondly of her.

Sabrina paused for a moment, then nodded to herself, as if coming to a silent conclusion. Without saying anything further, she turned her attention to the phone in her hand. She quickly dialed a number, her voice firm but gentle as she spoke, instructing someone to bring a few things to the room-teddy bears, chocolates, and some other small items she had in mind for the occasion. The line clicked dead as the call ended, leaving a sudden stillness in the air.

Sabrina's mind raced with the pieces of the puzzle now falling into place. She understood that Sifna wasn't just anyone. She was special-fragile, kind-hearted, and in need of the right care and attention. Sabrina knew that, like any mother would, she wanted to protect those who came into her home, especially those who were vulnerable. And she could already tell that Sifna, despite her strong exterior, was someone who needed that care more than anything else.

The next steps would be delicate, but Sabrina was ready. She would ensure that Sifna felt the warmth of their home and the security she had been longing for, even if it meant going beyond what was expected. Sabrina felt a deep need to show Sifna the love and care she deserved, no matter what it took

The maids moved gracefully through the room, their hands laden with plates of sumptuous sweets-rasgulla, gulab jamun, rasmalai, cheesecakes, and an assortment of delicacies, each one more inviting than the last. The fragrance of fresh sweets filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the gathering.

Sabrina, ever the gracious hostess, noticed the grand spread being set before them. She smiled warmly, her gaze flickering between the guests, and said in a gentle, almost modest tone, "Itna sab kuch karne ki zarurat nahi thi." ("There was no need to do all this.")

But Haniya, with a soft smile, replied with a certain pride in her voice, "Aap ladke wale hain, aapki mehman nawazi karna humara farz hai." ("You are the groom's side, it is our duty to honor you with hospitality.") And with that, there were no further words, only the sound of people happily digging into the offerings, the air filled with contentment and the sweetness of the moment.

As the conversation hummed softly around them, Sabrina's gaze shifted to Sifna, who was sitting beside her, quietly observing the scene. In that moment, Sabrina's heart stirred with a protective instinct. She reached for a small piece of rasmalai, the soft, spongy treat glistening with its rich syrup. She extended it gently to Sifna, her voice tender, "Beta, yeh rasmalai khao, try it, it's my special." ("Child, eat this rasmalai, try it, it's my special.")

Sifna, still feeling the weight of everything that had transpired, took the rasmalai hesitantly. As she took a bite, the sweetness overwhelmed her, but it wasn't just the taste that triggered her emotions. Sabrina's kindness, the warmth she had shown from the moment Sifna had entered the room, caused something to crack within her. She had been holding in so much-the strain of her own emotions, the weight of her mother's harsh words, and the ongoing turmoil inside her.

Before she could stop it, tears began to spill from her eyes, one drop at a time, as the joy of Sabrina's care overwhelmed her. She quickly wiped them away, trying to compose herself. But Sabrina, ever perceptive, noticed the shimmer in her eyes and her quiet sobs.

"Kya hua, bache? Ye aansu kyun?" Sabrina asked softly, her voice filled with concern. "What happened, child? Why are you crying?"

Sifna, still with tears threatening to fall, replied as calmly as she could manage, "Aunty, acha lagaa isliye..." ("Aunty, I liked it, that's why.") She forced a small, fragile smile, trying to mask the depth of her emotions. But Sabrina, seeing through the pretense, gently reached out and kissed Sifna's forehead.

The soft, motherly gesture was more than just a kiss-it was a moment of connection. Sabrina, in that one touch, offered Sifna a safe place, a sanctuary from all the pain and chaos that she had endured. Sifna felt her heart flutter, the warmth of the kiss sinking deep into her soul. She was no longer just a guest in this house; she was starting to feel like she belonged here.

Sabrina pulled back just slightly, her eyes warm, as she looked at Sifna with a tenderness that spoke volumes. For the first time in a long while, Sifna felt as though she could finally exhale, that the world had slowed down, and in this moment, at least, she was safe.

The tears, once so uncontrollable, were no longer a source of shame or worry. They were a sign of something different-something healing, something good. Sabrina's love, her care, it was all around her, and it was enough to start mending the broken pieces inside of Sifna.

The gathering gradually wound down, and after the delicious spread, everyone settled into a more relaxed atmosphere. There was soft chatter and the gentle clinking of cups and plates as people savored the last moments of the day.

But then, Aunt Zara, ever the practical one, stood up and turned toward Inayah's mother. "Ab hum sab ko chalna chahiye. Bohot der ho chuki hai, baqi tayariyan bhi karni hai." ("We should leave now, it's getting late, and there are still preparations to be done.")

Sabrina, smiled softly and waved her hand, "5 minute ruk jao." ("Just wait for five more minutes.") She clapped her hands, a subtle command, and in the next moment, the door opened to reveal something that made everyone gasp-a massive, giant teddy bear, its fluffy paws outstretched, surrounded by an array of chocolates. The sight was almost overwhelming, as if Sabrina had been planning this grand gesture all along.

Sabrina stood up and walked over to Sifna, her steps graceful, her smile radiant. She carefully picked up the teddy bear and chocolates, presenting it to Sifna with a loving gaze. "Beta, yeh thofa aapke liye." ("Child, this gift is for you.")

Sifna, feeling a mix of emotions, gently shook her head, her voice soft but steady as she spoke, "Aapka pyaar hi kaafi hai, iski koi zarurat nahi." ("Your love is enough, there's no need for this.")

But Sabrina was not to be deterred. With a loving smile, she responded, "Beta, isse maa ka thofa samajh ke rakhlo." ("Child, consider this a gift from a mother to you, keep it as such.") The sincerity in her words was unmistakable, and Sifna's heart melted just a little more. Without saying another word, Sabrina embraced Sifna gently, her arms offering a comfort that Sifna had not known she needed. "Thik hai," Sifna whispered, returning the hug, grateful for Sabrina's unwavering kindness.

Soon, the Malik family started to take their leave. Abeeha and Sidra, as always, were reluctant to let go of Sifna. They each hugged her tightly, their voices full of affection as they whispered, "We will miss you." Sifna, her heart swelling with the warmth of their friendship, responded softly, "I will miss you too."

Aunt Zara, ever graceful, embraced Inayah before turning to Sifna, giving her a brief but affectionate hug. The parting moments were filled with soft words and lingering glances, as if no one wanted to let go of the bond that had begun to form so naturally between them all.

And then, it was Sabrina's turn. She approached Inayah first, giving her a warm, maternal hug. "Take care, Inayah," she said kindly, her voice full of promise.

Finally, she turned to Sifna. This time, her embrace was tight, almost protective. She whispered in Sifna's ear, her voice low but clear, "Beta, kabhi bhi kisi cheez ki zarurat ho toh humein batana." ("Child, if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to let us know.") Sabrina paused for a moment, her grip tightening slightly. In her heart, she added, "Agar Inayah humare ghar ki bahu na banti, mere bachi toh hum apko zarur apne ghar ki bahu banate." ("If Inayah were not to be our daughter-in-law, my child, we would certainly make you a daughter-in-law of our house.")

Sabrina's words, though quiet, were filled with meaning, and they lingered in the air as she stepped back. Her smile was gentle but full of promise, a promise that things would be alright, that Inayah and Sifna would both find their places in this home, no matter how things unfolded.

"Lekin Inshallah, sab thik hoga." ("But God willing, everything will be fine.") Sabrina's voice carried a quiet confidence, a belief that the future, though uncertain, would be shaped by faith, love, and understanding.

With that, the Malik family gathered their things, said their final goodbyes, and made their way to the door, leaving the house in a soft hush, the bond between them and their future family sealed in the warmth of their embrace





















The gifts for inayah







The gifts for sifna

On the other side

AUTHOR'S POV

The biting Russian wind greeted Hamad Malik as he descended from the plane, a tempest that mirrored the storm inside him. His presence was as cutting as the air, each step deliberate and resounding with authority. The seven-hour flight had done little to dampen his focus-his thoughts sharper than ever as they honed in on the task ahead.

The steel-gray sky above Moscow seemed to bow to him, a silent witness to the arrival of a man who commanded the world around him. Beside him, Vivaan kept pace, his posture disciplined yet deferential, while Ibrahim trailed slightly behind, his hawk-like eyes scanning every shadow for potential threats. The weight of Hamad's power was not just in his stature-it was in the way the very air seemed to shift when he walked.

As they neared the exit of the private terminal, a low hum began to grow louder. The sound crescendoed into the distinct rumble of powerful engines, their presence dark and foreboding. From the distance, a fleet of black cars emerged, their sleek frames gliding across the tarmac with unnerving precision. The convoy stopped just short of them, engines still purring like restrained beasts.

Hamad's dark eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed the scene. Each vehicle was a masterpiece of strength and subtle aggression, their exteriors reflecting the muted sunlight. Everything about them spoke of power and control-qualities Hamad valued above all else.

"Sila ne v slovakh, a v deystviyakh," (Power is not in words but in actions), a familiar Russian phrase echoed in his mind, a mantra that guided him.

The drivers stepped out in unison, their movements synchronized as if rehearsed. Heads bowed in silent deference as they opened the car doors, awaiting orders. There was no need for words-respect, in this world, was not requested but demanded.

Hamad exchanged a brief look with Ibrahim, who gave a subtle nod. The silent confirmation was enough. They climbed into the lead car, the interior an exquisite blend of luxury and restraint. Black leather seats, gold accents, and dim lighting created an atmosphere of opulence without excess-power without arrogance.

"Take us to the mansion," Hamad commanded, his tone clipped and precise. The driver responded with a curt nod, and the convoy moved as one, their synchronization a testament to the fear and respect Hamad inspired.

The city blurred past the tinted windows, its looming skyline reflecting a dark elegance. As they approached the outskirts, the dense urban sprawl gave way to a more isolated, commanding presence. The mansion stood like a sentinel in the distance, its towering silhouette carved against the dimming sky. The gates opened soundlessly, granting passage into a world few dared to enter.

The mansion itself was a fortress of modernity and menace-its black marble exterior gleamed under soft floodlights, and sharp, angular architecture gave it an air of calculated precision. The long driveway was lined with dark hedges trimmed to perfection, their uniformity broken only by the occasional stone statue of formidable predators-lions, wolves, and falcons.

The car came to a halt, and as Hamad stepped out, the atmosphere shifted again. Every servant, guard, and staff member present bowed their heads in perfect unison, the sound of their collective silence echoing louder than any word could. Ibrahim flanked him as they moved forward, their steps measured yet resonant against the polished stone beneath.

The grand doors opened to reveal an opulent hall, its vastness almost consuming. High ceilings stretched above, adorned with chandeliers whose crystals gleamed like icicles. The walls bore the weight of ancestral portraits-faces marked by the same piercing gaze that Hamad carried. The air was heavy, not with dust or age, but with the stories of those who had once ruled within these walls.

Hamad's steps did not falter as he crossed the threshold. He exuded control, every movement a reminder of his dominance. Ibrahim followed closely, his silence a testament to his loyalty and understanding of the environment they had entered.

The hall seemed to expand endlessly, a labyrinth of dark wood, marble, and shadow. There was a rhythm to the space, one that pulsed with latent power, as though the mansion itself was alive and acknowledged the arrival of its master.

Hamad's voice cut through the stillness like a blade. "I want an update within the hour sharma ," he instructed, his words directed to Ibrahim. "No delays."

"Yes, boss," vivan replied curtly, already moving to ensure the command was carried out.

The momentary exchange ended, leaving Hamad alone in the grand hall for a moment. He looked around, his gaze lingering on the farthest corner where the shadows were deepest. The weight of his responsibilities was immense, but this was his domain-a kingdom built on control, strength, and unwavering willpower.

As he moved further into the mansion, the corners of his mind drifted briefly to the other side of the world. To the life he had left behind, to the promises yet to be fulfilled, and to the faces he couldn't afford to think about right now. The storm within him raged quietly as he prepared for whatever lay ahead, knowing one thing for certain-power, like destiny, was something you seized and never relinquished.

The heavy double doors of Hamad's personal quarters creaked open as he stepped inside, the dim lighting and understated luxury greeting him like an old companion. The room was vast, lined with black marble floors and dark wooden panels. The cold aesthetic was softened by the faint golden glow of a single chandelier and the plush gray furnishings strategically placed for comfort rather than decoration.

Hamad's footsteps echoed softly as he moved toward the wardrobe, his sharp suit now slightly creased from the long journey. He removed his tie with a fluid motion, his expression impassive. Behind him, Ibrahim entered the adjoining room-a space equally minimalist but tailored to his more practical needs.

The sound of water running from the en-suite bathroom broke the silence briefly. Hamad splashed cold water onto his face, letting it drip down his chiseled jawline as he leaned against the sink, eyes fixed on his reflection. His thoughts were a whirlwind, but his face betrayed nothing.

After a quick change into casual yet equally intimidating attire-a black turtleneck paired with tailored pants and a long coat-he stepped out of his room. Ibrahim emerged moments later, his outfit mirroring the muted, professional tones of Hamad's, but with a slightly more rugged edge.

Both men reclined briefly in the lounge area. Hamad rested his head back against the leather sofa, his eyes closed, though his mind remained alert. Ibrahim leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, scrolling through updates on his phone, ever the vigilant shadow.The quiet didn't last long. A sharp knock echoed through the room.

"Come in," Hamad's voice rang, cold and authoritative.

Vivaan stepped in, carrying a sleek tablet and a folder. His posture was rigid, his face betraying the urgency of the situation.

"Sir, the project details have been finalized," Vivaan began, standing at attention. "The meeting is scheduled for 10 a.m. tomorrow with the stakeholders. They've requested your presence."

Hamad's dark gaze locked onto Vivaan, his expression unreadable. "Everything is prepared?"

"Yes, sir. But there's another issue," Vivaan hesitated, his tone dropping slightly. "One of the contractors tried to bypass protocol, and it's caused a slight delay in some processes."

The air shifted immediately. Ibrahim straightened in his seat, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Who?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Vivaan handed the tablet to Ibrahim, the contractor's name and details glowing on the screen. "They attempted to contact the client directly, sir, undermining our authority."

Hamad's jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a loose fist. I want him in my basement within 15 minutes sharma.

Hamad's POV

The basement was cold, damp, and reeked of despair-a fitting place for a traitor to meet his end. My steps echoed off the concrete walls, each one deliberate, each one heavy with purpose. The dim light from the swaying bulb illuminated the room in flashes, highlighting the chains hanging like ghosts from the ceiling and the dark stains on the floor that told stories of the unforgivable.

He knelt before me, trembling like a cornered animal. His face was pale, his breaths shallow and rapid, as if he could already feel death's shadow looming over him. I stared down at him, my hands in my pockets, my expression calm, detached. This wasn't new to me-fear was something I commanded, something I wore like a second skin.

"Boss," he whimpered, his voice cracking as he looked up at me with tear-streaked eyes. "Please, I swear it was a mistake!"

A mistake. That word. It almost made me laugh, but I didn't. My silence was louder, more suffocating than any response I could have given. I crouched down, meeting his eyes-those eyes that darted around, looking for an escape that didn't exist.

"A mistake," I repeated, my voice low, calm, and colder than the Russian air outside. "Selling my plans to my enemies wasn't a mistake. It was a choice."

"No, no! I was forced!" he cried, the desperation in his voice making my patience wane. "They threatened my family! Please, I had no choice-"

"You always have a choice," I interrupted, straightening myself and looking down at him. My voice was steady, almost casual. "You just made the wrong one."

Ibrahim stepped forward then, his presence as commanding as mine but more brutal in its execution. Without a word, he yanked the man to his feet and slammed him against the wall. The sickening crunch of bone meeting concrete echoed through the room, and the man's scream cut through the silence like a blade.

"You think you can betray us and walk away?" Ibrahim growled, his voice deep and menacing, his hand tightening around the man's collar. "No one crosses us and lives to tell the tale."

The man's sobs filled the room as he begged for his life. It was pathetic, really. Betrayal was not just a personal affront-it was a declaration of war, and war demanded consequences.

I watched as Ibrahim threw him to the ground like a rag doll, his body crumpling as he gasped for air. His pleas fell on deaf ears.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my revolver. Its weight was familiar, comforting, a tool of justice in my hands. The man's eyes widened in pure terror as he saw the weapon, and his screams grew incoherent.

"Please! Sir, I'll do anything!" he cried, his hands clasped together as if prayer would save him. "I'll fix everything! Just don't kill me!"

I tilted my head slightly, studying him as though considering his words. But mercy was not a currency I dealt in. My gaze hardened, and without hesitation, I raised the gun and aimed at his forehead.

"You've already done enough," I said, my voice calm, final. Then I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot reverberated through the room, silencing his cries forever. His body fell lifelessly to the ground, blood pooling around him. The metallic scent grew stronger, mingling with the stale air. I stood there for a moment, my hand still holding the gun, watching the lifeless shell of a man who thought he could betray me.

I wiped the barrel of the gun with a handkerchief, the action methodical, detached. Turning to Ibrahim, I gave a single nod. "Dispose of him."

Ibrahim's response was immediate-a curt nod as he signaled the guards. They entered swiftly, dragging the corpse out of the room. Their movements were silent, efficient, as they disappeared into the shadows with their burden.

I ascended the stairs, each step deliberate, each one a reminder of the weight I carried and the power I wielded. The grand hall greeted me with its opulence, its dark marble floors gleaming under the dim light of the chandeliers. The contrast was stark-the elegance above, the horror below.

The world didn't need to fear death-it needed to fear me.

The metallic scent of blood still lingered in my senses as I walked up the grand staircase, my steps steady and deliberate. The chaos below was already being handled-efficient, silent, without a trace left behind. My mind, however, was already on the next task. Betrayal was dealt with, but power needed to be reaffirmed.

Vivaan stood at the top of the staircase, his face pale but composed, as if the weight of what transpired below hadn't touched him. It didn't matter-fear wasn't meant for my inner circle, but respect was non-negotiable. I said to him sharma meeting should be within 1hr i dont want hear anything everyone should be present in 1hr.

Vivaan stiffened. "Yes, sir. The preparations-"

"No," I cut him off, my tone low but commanding, a storm brewing behind my words. "I want the meeting today."

Vivaan's composure faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly nodded. "Of course, sir. I'll have the arrangements expedited."

"Good." I adjusted my cufflinks, my fingers methodical as I straightened the fabric. "Let them know their delay is not an option. I want every one of them seated at that table before the clock strikes midnight. If they fail to appear, they've already sealed their fate."

Vivaan hesitated again, his professionalism slipping just enough to show his unease. "Understood, sir. But with such short notice-"

I stepped closer, my gaze piercing through him, my voice dropping into a near whisper that felt like the edge of a blade. "Vivaan, do I look like a man who negotiates deadlines?"

He swallowed hard, bowing his head. "No, sir . I'll see to it immediately."

As Vivaan hurried off to make the necessary calls, I turned to Ibrahim, who stood silently, his imposing figure a mirror of my own authority.

"They'll try to test us," I said, my tone more a statement than a warning. "Show them no weakness, Ibrahim. The world doesn't bend to those who wait-it bends to those who command it."

Ibrahim nodded, his dark eyes gleaming with a shared understanding. "They'll learn, Hamad . By midnight, they'll know exactly who they answer to."

A faint smirk tugged at my lips, a cold, calculated gesture. "Good. Because by the end of the night, I want them to fear even the thought of crossing me. Delay is weakness, and we do not tolerate weakness."

The weight of my words hung in the air as I strode toward the meeting room. There was no room for hesitation, no room for doubt. My world didn't wait for anyone, and those who dared to question that would feel the full force of my wrath. Tonight, they would understand-power doesn't come from patience. It comes from absolute control.



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