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After some time they reached the mall

The grand shopping mall was alive with the soft murmur of conversations, the faint rustle of silk, and the intoxicating aroma of luxury perfumes. The marble floors gleamed under the golden chandelier lights, reflecting the extravagant displays of embroidered lehengas and shimmering accessories.

Inayah walked ahead, exuding an air of effortless confidence, her sharp eyes scanning the racks for something exquisite. Behind her, Sifna followed silently, her delicate fingers tracing over the soft fabrics, unsure of what to pick.

As they entered a high-end boutique, Inayah’s gaze landed on a breathtaking olive-green lehenga. The intricate embroidery, woven with delicate golden threadwork, shimmered under the boutique lights. Tiny sequins, beads, and floral motifs adorned the heavy fabric, forming a mesmerizing pattern. The blouse was equally stunning, hugging the mannequin elegantly, while the matching hijab carried the same delicate golden embellishments, ensuring a perfect blend of modesty and grace. A sheer net dupatta with a scalloped gold border completed the look, making it nothing short of regal.

She held the lehenga against herself, smirking at her reflection. "Bas. Yeh hi pehnungi apni Mehendi pe." (That’s it. I’ll wear this on my Mehendi.)

Sifna smiled softly, admiring the outfit. "Bohot sundar hai, didaa." (It’s very beautiful, sister.)

But before Inayah could respond, her sharp eyes caught sight of another piece—a soft yellow lehenga with intricate gold and pink embroidery. The fabric was light, almost weightless, yet rich with craftsmanship. Mirror work sparkled across the skirt, and the matching hijab carried delicate pearl embellishments along the borders. A soft pink-tinted net dupatta draped over it, adding a dreamy effect.

She turned to Sifna and, without waiting for approval, placed the lehenga in her hands. "Yeh tum pehnogi Mehendi pe." (You will wear this on Mehendi.)

Sifna hesitated, looking down at the outfit in her hands. "Lekin yeh bohot mehenga lag raha hai…" (But this looks very expensive…)

Inayah rolled her eyes. "Mehenga hai. Toh kya?" (It is expensive. So what?) She flicked her wrist dismissively. "Tum meri behen ho. Tumhare liye toh sab kuch sasta hai." (You are my sister. For you, everything is affordable.)

Sifna bit her lip, warmth blooming in her heart. Inayah’s ways were rough, but her love was undeniable.

Just as Inayah was about to head to the counter, Aaliya stepped forward, arms folded. "Aur mere liye?" (And for me?)

Inayah turned slightly, raising a brow. "Kya?" (What?)

Aaliya sighed in frustration. "Aapne Sifna ke liye lehenga le liya. Mera kya?" (You bought a lehenga for Sifna. What about me?)

A slow smirk played on Inayah’s lips. "Tum apni maa aur khala ke saath aayi ho na? Toh unse lo." (You came with your mother and aunt, right? Then take from them.)

Aaliya’s jaw clenched. "Par tumne Sifna ke liye toh le liya." (But you bought one for Sifna.)

Inayah scoffed, shifting the shopping bags in her hand. "Woh meri behen hai aor tum bas cousin." (She is my sister and you are just ny cousin.)

Aaliya's lips pressed into a thin line. "Lekin phir bhi… aap le sakti thi, na?" (But still… you could have bought for me too, right?)

Inayah let out a sharp laugh, tilting her head. "Tum kamati ho na?" (You earn, right?)

Aaliya blinked, caught off guard.

Inayah’s expression turned cold. "Tum khud kamati ho, toh apne paise se lo. Main kyun doon apni mehnat ki kamai?" (You earn by yourself, so buy it with your own money. Why should I spend my hard-earned money?)

The words stung. Aaliya inhaled sharply, her fingers curling into fists. "Ek din yeh bhi tumhe chhod degi, jaise sab jaate hain." (One day, even she will leave you, just like everyone else does.)

Sifna stiffened at the cruel remark, but before she could react, Inayah’s laugh cut through the tension—sharp and unapologetic.

She stepped forward, her voice dangerously low. "Main hoon uske saath. Jab tak main hoon, usse kisi ki zaroorat nahi." (I am with her. As long as I am here, she doesn’t need anyone.)

Without another word, she grabbed Sifna’s wrist, turned on her heel, and walked toward the cashier, leaving Aaliya standing alone.

Sifna clutched the lehenga to her chest, her heart pounding.

She glanced at Inayah, a silent realization settling within her.

No matter what happened— No matter what anyone said— As long as she had Inayah, she would never be alone.

Aaliyah’s face burned with embarrassment as she stood in the middle of the boutique, her hands clenched at her sides. Inayah had dismissed her—just like that. As if she didn’t even matter. As if she were nothing.

Her heart pounded with frustration, and without wasting another second, she stormed toward her mother and khala, who were admiring an expensive silk shawl near the cash counter.

"Ammi! Khala!" she huffed, her voice laced with irritation.

Her mother barely spared her a glance. "Kya hua, Aaliyah? Yeh nakhre kis baat ke?" (What happened, Aaliyah? Why are you making a fuss?)

Aaliyah folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Inayah di ne mujhe ek bhi dress nahi li! Sirf Sifna ke liye do-do dresses le rahi hai!" (Inayah didn’t buy me a single dress! But she’s buying two for Sifna!)

Her khala, who had been adjusting her dupatta, looked up, her brows knitting together. "Kya?" (What?)

"Haan! Maine kaha bhi ke main uske saath aayi hoon, toh mujhe bhi lena chahiye, par uska kehna hai ke main kamati hoon, apni cheezein khud loon! Magar Sifna ke liye bina soche le rahi hai!" (Yes! I even told her that I came with her, so she should buy for me too. But she said that since I earn, I should buy for myself! Yet she’s buying for Sifna without a second thought!)

Aaliya’s mother’s lips curled in distaste, her gaze darkening. "Woh besharam ladki bhi na! Jahan dekho, drama banati hai!" (That shameless girl! Wherever she goes, she causes drama!)

Her khala scoffed, shaking her head. "Ek dum bewakoof hai Inayah! Woh bechari masoomiyat ka natak karne wali Sifna ke pichay pagal ho gayi hai!" (Inayah is an absolute fool! She’s obsessed with that so-called innocent Sifna!)

Her mother placed the shawl back on the rack, her expression twisting in anger. "Pata nahi yeh ladki sabko kaise apni taraf kheench leti hai! Kitni chalak hai!" (I don’t know how that girl manages to attract everyone! She’s so cunning!)

Aaliyah nodded furiously, her anger fueled by their words. "Woh sirf apni bholi surat dikhati hai! Andar se chalu hai poori!" (She just pretends to be innocent! Inside, she’s completely sly!)

Her khala sneered. "Bhai, Inayah ki samajh nahi aati. Tumhare saath aayi, tumhari wajah se yahaan hai, aur shopping kisi aur ke liye kar rahi hai!" (I just don’t understand Inayah. She came with you, she’s here because of you, yet she’s shopping for someone else!)

Her mother sighed, crossing her arms. "Chhodo, Aaliyah. Tum usse ummeed hi kyun karti ho? Agar uska dimaag chalne wala hota, toh Sifna jaise bewaqoof ke pichay na bhagti!" (Forget it, Aaliyah. Why do you even expect anything from her? If she had any sense, she wouldn’t be running after a fool like Sifna!)

Aaliyah exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening. "Main bhi dekhungi, yeh Sifna kab tak aise chhupi rahegi! Ek din uska asli chehra sabke samne aayega!" (I’ll see how long Sifna keeps up this innocent act! One day, her true face will be exposed to everyone!)

Her khala smirked, patting her shoulder. "Bas beta, waqt ka intezar karo. Yeh natak zyada der tak nahi chalega." (Just wait, dear. This drama won’t last forever.)

Aaliyah felt a little better knowing her mother and khala shared her resentment. But as she turned back toward the boutique, watching Inayah hold up an emerald green dress against Sifna with admiration, the anger in her heart burned fiercer.

After that they went to the store which was lavish, the golden lights casting a warm glow over the endless rows of designer heels. Inayah walked ahead, her eyes scanning the shelves with practiced ease, while Sifna followed quietly beside her, feeling slightly out of place in such an extravagant store.

Aaliyah, still fuming from earlier, trailed behind with her mother and khala, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She wasn’t going to let this slide.

Inayah picked up a pair of elegant nude-colored heels and handed them to Sifna. "Ye try karo," (Try these,) she said casually.

Sifna hesitated. "Mujhe heels ki aadat nahi hai..." (I’m not used to heels...)

Inayah gave her a flat look. "Toh aadat daal lo." (Then get used to them.)

Sifna swallowed nervously, but took the heels anyway. Meanwhile, Aaliyah had her arms wrapped around herself, glaring at Inayah. "Toh aap sirf iske liye heels kharid rahi ho?" (So you’re only buying heels for her?)

Inayah didn’t even look at her. "Haan." (Yes.)

Aaliyah scoffed. "Aur mere liye?" (And for me?)

This time, Inayah did glance at her, her face impassive. "Tum kamati ho, Aaliyah. Apni cheezein khud lo." (You earn, Aaliyah. Buy your own things.)

Aaliyah’s face turned red. "Par hum bhi toh saath aaye hain! Mujhe bhi kuch lena hai!" (But we also came together! I want something too!)

Inayah picked up a pair of simple yet beautiful heels for herself and examined them. "Maine tumhe nahi bulaya tha." (I didn’t invite you.)

Aaliyah clenched her fists. "Matlab?!" (What do you mean?!)

Inayah finally turned fully toward her, her expression unbothered. "Matlab ki main Sifna ke saath shopping kar rahi hoon, tumhare saath nahi. Tumhari ammi aur khala ko toh mujhe dekhna bhi pasand nahi, na? Phir main unki beti pe apna paisa kyun kharch karu?" (I mean that I’m shopping with Sifna, not you. Your mom and khala don’t even like seeing me, right? So why should I spend my money on their daughter?)

Aaliyah’s face burned with embarrassment. She turned toward her mother and khala for support. "Dekha? Khala maa di ki soch dekho!" (See? Mom and aunt Look at how she thinks!)

Her mother and khala exchanged looks before her khala scoffed. "Humne pehle hi kaha tha haniya baji, Inayah badtameez banti jarahi hai is sifna ke saath." (We already told you haniya sister, Inayah is disrespectful after living with sifna.)

Inayah, unbothered, simply turned away and continued looking at the heels. "Chalo, Sifna. Tumhari size dekhein." (Come, Sifna. Let’s check your size.)

Aaliyah gritted her teeth, but there was nothing she could do.

Sifna shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Inayah and Aaliyah, her soft heart unable to bear the tension thick in the air. Her delicate fingers clutched the box of heels Inayah had handed her, but her heart felt heavy.

"Di, aisa mat kijiye..." (Di, don’t do this...) she whispered, her voice laced with guilt.

Inayah frowned, turning to her. "Kya hua?" (What happened?)

Sifna lowered her gaze, her voice small yet firm. "Aap har waqt mere liye ladti hain. Mujhe bilkul acha nahi lagta..." (You always fight for me. I don’t like it at all...)

Her innocent words were like a soft blow to Inayah’s chest. She blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Lekin Sifna—"

"Nahi, Di..." Sifna interrupted, shaking her head gently. "Mujhe nahi chahiye koi heels, mujhe nahi chahiye koi gift... Aap bas khush rahiye na, please?" (I don’t want heels, I don’t want gifts... I just want you to be happy, please?)

Her pure-hearted plea left Inayah silent. She could fight the world, but she could never argue with Sifna’s innocence.

Aaliyah smirked, sensing a small victory, but Sifna turned to her next, her eyes glistening. "Aur Aaliyah di, aap bhi di se ladna bandh kijiye... Sab kuch paiso se nahi tolna chahiye..." (And Aaliyah di, you should also stop fighting with Di... Not everything should be measured by money...)

Aaliyah’s smirk faltered.

The shoe store, once filled with tension, now felt strangely quiet. Even Inayah, the ever-bold and sharp-tongued, found herself sighing, placing a gentle hand on Sifna’s head.

Inayah let out a slow breath, her fingers tightening into a fist behind her back as she gently stroked Sifna’s head. The innocence in her baby sister’s eyes melted something inside her, forcing her to bite back the sharp words she wanted to throw at Aaliyah and her hateful family.

She smiled, softening her gaze. "Theek hai, meri masoom ladki…" (Alright, my innocent girl…) she whispered, pretending to give in. "Aaj ke baad nahi ladungi… par sirf tere kehne pe." (I won’t fight anymore… but only because you asked.)

Sifna smiled, relief washing over her, thinking she had convinced her fierce sister to let things go.

But inside, Inayah burned.

Her heart pounded with silent fury, and deep within her soul, she made a vow. Aaliyah and her family had insulted Sifna one too many times. Today, she had swallowed her anger only because she didn’t want to see her baby sister’s eyes fill with tears. But this? This wasn’t over.

"Lekin ek din…" (But one day…) she thought, her nails digging into her palm, "Main tum sabko gira dungi. Sifna ke ek bhi aansu ka hisaab pura karungi." (I will bring you all down. I will make you pay for every single tear Sifna has shed.)

She would destroy every person who dared to hurt Sifna.

For now, she smiled. She stayed calm. But her silence was just the beginning of a storm no one would see coming.

It was already lunch time The bustling mall was filled with the hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery from the nearby food court, and the occasional laughter of children. The shopping bags hung from Inayah’s arms as she walked with Sifna beside her.

As they reached the restaurant, ready to settle for lunch, Daniyal and Sahil entered. Their arrival was casual, effortless, as if they had no care in the world. But the moment Sifna’s eyes landed on Daniyal, her entire body stiffened.

A shiver ran down her spine, her fingers instinctively clutching Inayah’s hand in a tight grip. She squeezed hard—so hard that Inayah felt the desperation in it.

"Kya hua, Sifna?" Inayah asked, her voice soft yet firm, her protective instincts immediately rising.

Sifna swallowed, quickly shaking her head. "K-kuch nahi, di… kuch bhi nahi." (N-nothing, di… nothing at all.)

Her voice was small, almost fragile, but Inayah didn’t miss the way her hands trembled slightly before she forced them to relax.

Nothing?

Inayah’s gaze darkened as she followed Sifna’s line of sight, her eyes locking onto Daniyal. He was laughing at something Sahil had said, completely unaware of Sifna’s reaction—or maybe, he was pretending not to notice.

Inayah’s jaw clenched.

She had seen fear before, but never in Sifna’s eyes. Never this kind of quiet, hidden terror.

She didn’t press her further. She didn’t force her to speak.

But deep inside, something twisted in her chest.

"Agar kisi ne Sifna ko takleef di hai…" (If someone has hurt Sifna…) she thought, her fingers brushing over Sifna’s knuckles reassuringly. "Main uska wajood mitane se pehle ek pal bhi nahi sochungi." (I won’t hesitate for even a second before erasing their existence.)

For now, she played along with Sifna’s silence.

But her mind was already planning—searching for answers. Because no one—no one—scared her baby sister and walked away unscathed.

Lunch passed in a blur of conversations and laughter—fake laughter, forced politeness, and carefully chosen words. The clinking of spoons against plates, the occasional sound of water being poured into glasses, and the subtle rustling of shopping bags filled the space.

Sifna remained unusually quiet. She ate without a word, her eyes downcast, her fingers toying with the hem of her hijab. She nodded when spoken to but never initiated a conversation.

Inayah noticed.

She saw how her little sister’s shoulders tensed every time Daniyal spoke, how she avoided looking in his direction, how she played with her food instead of eating properly.

But she didn’t push. Not yet.

Instead, she distracted herself with the discussion at hand. Everyone had started showing what they bought—Aaliya, smug as always, flaunted her expensive dresses, Sahil and Daniyal spoke about their watches and shoes, and Sifna sat there, holding her shopping bags close to her.

Inayah gently squeezed her sister’s hand under the table. A silent reassurance. "Main yahan hoon." (I’m here.)

Sifna gave her a small smile—weak, almost hesitant—but said nothing.

Inayah played along, pretending not to notice, but deep inside, her mind was already racing.

"Jaise hi hum ghar pahunchte hain, main isse poochungi." (As soon as we reach home, I will ask her.)

Whatever it was—whoever it was—she would get to the bottom of it. And if someone had hurt her baby sister, they would regret it.

The Silence Before the Storm

The ride home was quiet, too quiet for Inayah’s liking. Sifna sat beside her in the car, her fingers tightly gripping the shopping bags, as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. Aaliya, her mother, and khala chatted in the background, their voices filled with arrogance and self-importance, but Sifna remained withdrawn.

Inayah felt it—the shift in her sister’s energy, the stiffness in her posture. Something had happened. Something she wasn’t saying.

As soon as they reached home, everyone busied themselves unpacking. Aaliya was quick to rush into her room, flaunting her purchases to her mother and khala. Sahil and Daniyal went to their rooms, talking about a match they had planned for the evening.

But Inayah? She had only one concern.

Sifna.

She followed her into her room, closing the door behind her. The soft click of the lock made Sifna turn, her eyes wide, lips parting slightly as if she already knew what was coming.

Inayah crossed her arms, her voice firm but gentle. "Ab bataogi ya main khud andaza lagaaun?" (Will you tell me, or should I figure it out myself?)

Sifna shook her head quickly. "Kuch bhi nahi, di." (Nothing, sister.)

Inayah raised a brow. "Sach bolne ka waqt aa gaya hai, baby." (It’s time to tell the truth, baby.)

Sifna lowered her gaze, biting her lip, hesitation clouding her features. Inayah stepped forward, gently holding her hands. "Sifna, main hoon na? Koi bhi baat mujhse chhupi nahi rehni chahiye." (Sifna, I am here, right? Nothing should be hidden from me.)

There was silence. A moment of hesitation. Then, finally, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, Sifna spoke.

"Di... Daniyal bh... bhai."

Inayah’s breath hitched. Her fingers curled around Sifna’s hands, her grip tightening.

"Kya kiya usne?" (What did he do?)

Sifna just shook her head, looking away, tears pooling in her eyes.

Inayah’s blood boiled. She was hoping that what she is thinking right now shouldnt be true

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Not now. Not in front of Sifna. But inside, a storm had already begun.

"Jo bhi kiya hai, main uska jawab doongi." She thought in her mind (Whatever he has done, I will make him pay.)

For now, she pulled Sifna into her arms, hugging her tightly, whispering promises into her hair. Promises of safety. Promises of protection.

But deep inside, she had already taken her pledge.

Daniyal will regret ever crossing Sifna.

Inayah took a deep breath, pushing aside the storm brewing inside her. Anger could wait—right now, her baby sister needed peace. She cupped Sifna’s face gently, wiping away the unshed tears threatening to spill.

"Chalo, saath mein namaz padte hain," she said softly, her voice laced with warmth and determination. (Let’s pray together.)

Sifna looked up at her, eyes searching for reassurance, for the comfort only her di could give. Inayah smiled and took her hand, leading her to the prayer mat.

Both sisters made their wudu, the cool water washing away the heaviness of their hearts, purifying their thoughts. As they stood side by side, wrapped in their hijabs, the world outside faded. The whispers, the taunts, the cruelty—they no longer mattered. It was just them and their Rabb.

Inayah and sifna startedthe prayer, their recitation steady and heartfelt. Each verse felt like a shield, a barrier of divine protection forming around them. Sifna, her innocent heart seeking solace in the words of the Almighty.

As Sifna lowered herself into sujood, the weight of everything she had endured crashed over her like an unrelenting storm. Her fragile heart could no longer contain the agony she had been bottling up for so long.

Tears poured down her face, soaking the prayer mat as she clutched at the ground beneath her, as if seeking strength from the very earth. Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper, yet filled with raw desperation.

“Ya Allah, ab mujhse bardasht nahi hota… ma thak gayi hu pyaar maangte maangte…” (Ya Allah, I can’t bear it anymore… I’m tired of begging for love…)

Her sobs wracked her small frame, her body shaking with the weight of her words.

“Mere Rabb, mujhe himmat de, hosla de… mere Malik, ma gunahgar hu, mujhe maaf karde…” (My Lord, give me strength, give me patience… My Master, I am a sinner, forgive me…)

Her forehead pressed against the soft fabric, but all she felt was emptiness—like the world had turned its back on her.

“Ya mere Allah, mai bohot darpok hu… mujhe himmat de ki mai lad saku… koi ishara de, mere Maula!” (Oh my Allah, I am such a coward… give me the courage to fight… give me a sign, my Lord!)

Her cries filled the quiet space, a melody of brokenness and longing. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as if trying to hold herself together. But she was shattering, piece by piece.

Inayah, who had just finished her prayer, turned to see her baby sister in complete despair. Her heart clenched painfully at the sight.

“Sifna…” she whispered, reaching out, but Sifna remained lost in her sujood, pleading with the only One who had never abandoned her.

The air grew heavier, the silence between her sobs deafening. And then, as if in answer, an unexpected calmness settled in the room.

A single tear slipped from Inayah’s eye. She clenched her jaw, swallowing the lump in her throat.

She would not let her sister break like this.

Not anymore.

After sifna completed her prayer Inayah gently ran her fingers through Sifna’s head, feeling her tremble slightly in her lap. Her baby sister’s eyes were swollen and red, exhaustion evident in every breath she took.

"Sifna, mai kuch batati hu, thik hai?" (Sifna, let me tell you something, okay?)

Sifna nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ji, aapa…”

She closed her eyes, seeking comfort in her sister’s warmth, and Inayah took a deep breath before speaking, her voice firm yet soothing.

“Meri jaan, I can’t see you in distress. I know you crave your parents’ love—I know how deeply you long for it—but not at the cost of your self-respect, not at the cost of your pain.”

Sifna sniffled, her fingers clutching onto Inayah’s sleeve.

“Allah commands parents to be kind and just. Even they have responsibilities, Sifna.” Inayah's voice held a quiet strength as she recited:

وَلَا يَجْرِمَنَّكُمْ شَنَاٰنُ قَوْمٍ عَلٰٓى اَلَّا تَعْدِلُوْا‌ اِعْدِلُوْا هُوَ اَقْرَبُ لِلتَّقْوٰى "Do not let your hatred for a people lead you to injustice. Be just; that is nearer to righteousness." (Surah Al-Ma’idah 5:8)

She felt Sifna’s breath hitch, her grip tightening.

“The Prophet ﷺ also reminded us:

"Indeed, your Lord has rights over you, your body has rights over you, and your family has rights over you. So give everyone their due rights." (Sahih Bukhari 1968)

“This means that even parents do not have the right to harm, mistreat, or emotionally abuse their children.”

She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before continuing, her voice laced with conviction.

“Islam teaches us to respect and obey our parents, but not when they are being unjust.”

Again, she recited softly:

وَوَصَّيْنَا الْإِنسَانَ بِوَالِدَيْهِ حُسْنًا ۖ وَإِن جَاهَدَاكَ لِتُشْرِكَ بِي مَا لَيْسَ لَكَ بِهِ عِلْمٌ فَلَا تُطِعْهُمَا ۚ إِلَيَّ مَرْجِعُكُمْ فَأُنَبِّئُكُمْ بِمَا كُنتُمْ تَعْمَلُونَ "And We have enjoined upon man [care] for his parents. But if they endeavor to make you associate with Me that of which you have no knowledge, do not obey them. To Me is your return, and I will inform you about what you used to do." (Surah Al-Ankabut 29:8)

Sifna’s silent tears dripped onto Inayah’s lap, but she remained quiet, listening intently.

"Even in matters of religion, if parents are wrong, unjust, or oppressive, you do not have to obey them. And if they cause extreme harm—physical abuse, mental torture, controlling your life unfairly—Islam allows you to distance yourself while still maintaining respect."

Then, Inayah softly recited another hadith:

"لَا طَاعَةَ فِي مَعْصِيَةِ اللَّهِ إِنَّمَا الطَّاعَةُ فِي الْمَعْرُوفِ" "There is no obedience in disobedience to Allah; obedience is only in what is right." (Sahih Bukhari 7257)

Her fingers gently wiped Sifna’s tears away. “Meri jaan, this means you do not have to suffer oppression, even from parents. You have the right to protect yourself.”

Sifna’s lips trembled. "Lekin aapa… phir mujhe kya karna chahiye?" (But aapa… then what should I do?)

Inayah cupped her baby sister’s face, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "You pray, my love. You ask Allah for guidance. You seek your strength in Him. And you never, ever let anyone convince you that you are unworthy of love."

Sifna sobbed into her lap again, but this time, there was a flicker of something in her heart—an ember of hope.

Inayah took a deep breath, sensing the turmoil within Sifna. She gently lifted her baby sister’s face, wiping away the tears that still clung to her cheeks. "Sifna, meri jaan… Allah ne tumhari dua sun li i know what you are thinking." (Sifna, my love… Allah has heard your prayer.)

Sifna blinked, confused. “Kya?” (What?)

A soft but knowing smile played on Inayah’s lips. “You asked for a sign, didn’t you?”

Sifna's breath hitched. The plea she had whispered in sujood echoed in her heart. "Ya Allah, mujhe koi ishara de…" (O Allah, give me a sign…)

And now, here was Inayah, speaking words that sent shivers down her spine.

Inayah's voice became firm, filled with conviction as she recited:

فَمَنِ اعْتَدَىٰ عَلَيْكُمْ فَاعْتَدُوا۟ عَلَيْهِ بِمِثْلِ مَا اعْتَدَىٰ عَلَيْكُمْ "Whoever commits aggression against you, respond with a similar force." (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:194)

Sifna’s eyes widened.

“This means that if someone tries to touch you inappropriately, if someone harasses you, if someone wrongs you—Sifna, you have the right to fight back.”

Goosebumps erupted across Sifna’s skin. She stared at her sister in shock.

Inayah held her gaze, unwavering. "The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said:

لَا ضَرَرَ وَلَا ضِرَارَ "Do not harm yourself, and do not let others harm you." (Sunan Ibn Majah 2340)

Sifna’s heart pounded against her ribs. The weight of those words settled into her soul like an answer she had been desperately seeking.

Inayah’s grip on her tightened. "Aur sunn meri jaan…" (And listen, my love…)

She leaned in closer, her eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down Sifna’s spine.

"The Prophet ﷺ also said:

"If someone tries to violate your dignity, fight back. If you die, you die a martyr." (Sunan Abu Dawood 4772)

Inayah cupped Sifna’s face gently but firmly. "Do you understand what this means, Sifna?"

Sifna's lips trembled, her breath shaky. "Mai... mai gunahgar nhi houngi?" (I… I won’t be sinful?)

Inayah shook her head, her voice soft yet powerful. "Nahi, meri jaan. Tumne agar apni izzat bachane ke liye ladai ki, toh tum galat nahi ho. Tum par koi gunaah nahi hai. The wrongdoer is at fault, not you." (No, my love. If you fight to protect your dignity, you are not wrong. You are not sinful. The wrongdoer is at fault, not you.)

Tears welled up in Sifna’s eyes again, but this time, they weren’t of helplessness. They were of realization. Of strength.

Inayah gently pressed her forehead against hers. "Islam never tells you to tolerate injustice. It teaches you to fight back."

A shudder ran through Sifna’s body. The sign she had begged Allah for… it had come. Clear, undeniable. And it had come from her sister’s lips.

She wasn’t powerless. She wasn’t weak. She didn’t have to suffer in silence.

For the first time in a long time, something inside Sifna shifted. Something awakened.

As soon as Inayah finished speaking, a choked sob broke from Sifna’s lips. She gripped Inayah’s hand tightly, her whole body trembling as if she had been holding something unbearable inside her for too long.

"Di…" her voice cracked, eyes welling up with fresh tears. "Mai… mai aur nahi seh sakti…" (Di… I… I can't bear it anymore…)

Inayah’s heart clenched. She had seen the pain in Sifna’s eyes before, but now, it was like a dam breaking.

"Mujhse chupaya hai na kuch?" Inayah whispered, her voice laced with both hurt and protectiveness. "Lekin ab batao, Sifna. Sab kuch batao." (You’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you? But now, tell me. Tell me everything.)

Sifna sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the fabric of Inayah’s dress as if holding onto her lifeline. "Daniyal… Daniyal bhai mujhe chhune ki koshish karta hai, Di." (Daniyal… Daniyal tries to touch me, Di.)

A deathly silence fell between them.

Inayah’s blood ran cold.

Her grip on Sifna tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Kya?" (What?)

Tears streamed down Sifna’s cheeks as she sobbed uncontrollably. "Jab bhi koi aas paas nahi hota… woh mujhe darata hai… haath lagane ki koshish karta hai… Di, mujhe bohot darr lagta hai…" (Whenever no one is around… he threatens me… tries to touch me… Di, I get so scared…)

Inayah felt rage explode inside her.

She gently cupped Sifna’s face, wiping away her tears, but there was a storm brewing in her eyes.

"Aur tumne mujhe ab tak nahi bataya?" she whispered, her voice shaking with restrained fury. (And you didn't tell me until now?)

Sifna looked down, ashamed. "Mai bohot dar gayi thi, Di… Agar mai kuch kehti toh… agar koi mujhi hi galat samajhta toh?" (I was too scared, Di… What if I had said something and they blamed me instead?)

Inayah's heart shattered into a million pieces.

She hugged Sifna tightly, pressing a firm kiss to her head. "Nahi, Sifna. Suno meri jaan. Tumhari koi galti nahi hai. Jo galat hai, woh sirf woh hai. Aur ab mai yeh sab bardasht nahi karungi." (No, Sifna. Listen to me, my love. You are not at fault. The only one who is wrong is him. And now, I won’t tolerate this anymore.)

She pulled back, her fierce eyes locking onto Sifna’s teary ones.

"Tumne kaha tha na, Allah se koi ishara maanga tha?" (You asked Allah for a sign, right?)

Sifna weakly nodded.

Inayah placed her forehead against hers, her voice a whisper of unshakable determination.

"Toh sunn meri jaan. Allah tumhe keh raha hai ke ab waqt aa gaya hai. Tumhe darna nahi hai. Tumhe ladna hai." (Then listen, my love. Your Allah is telling you that the time has come. You don’t have to be scared. You have to fight.)

Sifna’s lips trembled. "Kaise…?" (How…?)

Inayah took a deep breath and held Sifna’s hands tightly.

"Main hoon na. Ab mai uss Daniyal ko barbad karungi. Mai usse tod dungi, Sifna. Kasam hai mujhe Allah ki, jo dard usne tujhe diya hai, uska ek ek hisaab loongi." (I am here. Now, I will destroy Daniyal. I will break him, Sifna. I swear by Allah, I will make him pay for every pain he caused you.)

Her voice was laced with a deadly promise.

Sifna looked at her sister, at the fire burning in her eyes, and for the first time… she felt safe.

Inayah wasn’t just saying it.

She was going to make it happen.

Inayah cupped Sifna’s tear-streaked face, her touch firm yet gentle. "Bas ab aur nahi, Sifna," she said, her voice filled with unshakable resolve. "Tumhe darna nahi hai. Tumhe sehna nahi hai. Tumhe ladna hai." (No more, Sifna. You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to endure. You have to fight.)

Sifna hiccupped between her sobs, her gaze flickering with hesitation. "Par Di… mai bohot kamzor hoon… mai kaise…?" (But Di… I’m too weak… how can I…?)

Inayah tightened her grip on her shoulders, her eyes blazing with fierce protectiveness. "Kamzor nahi ho tum. Tumhe sirf yeh samajhna hai ke tumhara haq kya hai. Jo zulm tumpe ho raha hai, Allah bhi uska saathi nahi hai. Tumhe khud ke liye khade hona padega, Sifna." (You are not weak. You just need to understand what your rights are. Even Allah is not on the side of oppression. You have to stand up for yourself, Sifna.)

Sifna swallowed hard, doubt still clouding her mind.

Inayah took a deep breath and held her trembling hands. "Mujhse waada karo, Sifna. Waada karo ke ab tum chup nahi rahogi. Waada karo ke jo bhi tumhare saath galat karega, tum uske khilaf khadi hogi. Allah ne bhi zulm sahne ka hukum nahi diya hai." (Promise me, Sifna. Promise me that you will not stay silent anymore. Promise me that whoever wrongs you, you will stand against them. Even Allah has not commanded us to endure injustice.)

Sifna's lips quivered. "Par Di… agar mujhe himmat na mili toh…?" (But Di… what if I don’t have the courage…?)

Inayah placed her forehead against hers, whispering softly yet with unbreakable determination.

"Tumhari himmat tumhara Allah hai, Sifna. Jo ladki Allah se pyaar maang sakti hai, woh izzat aur insaaf bhi maang sakti hai. Aur Allah uska saath kabhi nahi chhodta jo usse pukarta hai." (Your strength is your Allah, Sifna. The girl who can ask Allah for love can also ask for dignity and justice. And Allah never abandons the one who calls upon Him.)

A tear slipped from Sifna’s eyes, but this time, it wasn’t just pain—it was realization.

She gripped Inayah’s hands tighter.

"Waada karti hoon, Di." (I promise, Di.)

Inayah’s lips curled into a proud, emotional smile.

"Bas ab dekhna, Sifna. Tumhari Inayah sirf tumhare liye nahi ladegi… tumhe saath mai ladna bhi sikhayegi." (Now watch, Sifna. Your Inayah won’t just fight for you… she will teach you how to fight too.)

And that was the moment Sifna’s battle truly began.

Inayah gently ran her fingers through Sifna’s head, watching her breathing even out as sleep finally took over her exhausted body. "Meri masoom Sifna…" she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. (My innocent Sifna…)

Carefully, she lifted her in her arms, carrying her to the bed as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. She tucked the blanket around her, making sure she was warm and safe. Her heart clenched at the sight—Sifna, sleeping so peacefully, yet carrying so much fear and pain within her fragile soul.

But not anymore.

Inayah’s eyes darkened with a storm of fury as she stepped out of the room. She pulled out her phone, dialing a number with steady fingers.

The line rang once. Twice. Then a voice picked up.

She didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

"I need something handled. Quietly. Efficiently." Her voice was calm, controlled—too controlled, the kind that only hid a raging fire underneath.

A pause. Then a response. "Who’s the target?"

She turned to glance at the closed door of Sifna’s room, her fingers tightening around the phone.

"Daniyal Ansari," she said, her voice dripping with ice. "It's time for him to taste his own medicine."

There was silence on the other end, and then a knowing chuckle. "Understood. What do you want done?"

Inayah’s lips curled into a slow, merciless smirk.

"Make sure he learns the meaning of fear. I want him ruined. Completely."

As she ended the call, she exhaled, her gaze burning with an unyielding promise.

"Get ready, Daniyal Ansari."

"For every tear you gave my baby sister, you'll pay a thousand times over."

Hope you enjoyed the chapter

1. What do you think Inayah has planned for Daniyal Ansari? Will it be enough to make him regret his actions?

2. Sifna has always been innocent and forgiving—do you think she will truly be able to fight back, or will she struggle with the idea of standing up for herself?

3. How does Inayah’s protective nature shape her character? Do you think her way of handling things is justified?

4. What emotions did you feel while reading this scene? Did any part stand out to you the most?

5. If you were in Inayah’s place, how would you seek justice for Sifna? Would you handle it differently?

Do vote and comment here also your comments encourages me to write more

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