༻✺༺

0 3 : f o r g o t t e n  p a s t

the past is history, this is a life story.

༻✺༺

For a moment, I stood there rooted in shock, unsure if I had heard correctly.

Tonight the city of Lahore bled red. The sky had submitted to the darkness, the clouds wailed and the heavens unleashed the dragons that lurked the streets, crashing, devouring and destroying everything in their god forsaken path. Every time blood adorned the fields of our country and thousands found solace in letting go of their pent up frustration, it was usually a carefully orchestrated event, painstakingly engineered by a handful of people. My grandfather himself had been an architect for many such nights.

But tonight, the unrelenting demoniac anarchy was to moan the rapidly deteriorating health of Dada Jaan, this country's leader. The news had scattered like wildfire, roaring and raging. Seemingly law abiding citizens had taken to streets, ravaging, plundering and crying. Their piercingly shrill and heart-wrenching cries could have awoken the dead from their graves and put the living into their coffins.

Like them, I too was moaning. I too wanted to cry. But our reasons were not the same.

I had other issues to worry about. No matter how much I loathed the words that had just left Shanzae's mouth, I knew they were the truth. The news was overwhelming, an immensity my mind fought to take in. While a part of me refused to believe what I already knew, it was in fact, only a matter of time before I'd have to confront the demons of my past.

The very demons who had plunged a dagger through my heart and left me to wither away into the forgotten shards of time. But they were also the very same demons that had honed me into a furious, unforgiving devil.

The thought of seeing him again lay bitter on my tongue. I had cared for him. And he had cared for me. Or so I thought. But I could never forget the hatred that ran through his veins for my family. His betrayal still stung, tearing into my heart like a barbed wire wrapped around my heart, piercing and painful.

I swallowed the information silently. A stony silence stretched out for a moment. My family waited with bated breaths for a response, their eyes wordlessly conveying all their fears. I had heard the whispers. In the soft rustling of the leaves. And the silent howls of the winds. I had known he was coming back, I had felt it. But hearing Dad confirm the news had felt like a stinging slap across my face, jolting me back to the reality, where memories haunted me like demonic spirits.

Zaroon Ibrahim Malik.

The man I had been in love with.
The man who had promised me a lifetime.
And the man who had broken my heart.

A bitter laugh left my lips. The irony of how times had changed not missed upon me. I had loved him ferociously, but today I hated him so viciously that I would gladly destroy everything he loved and watch him grovel on my feet without so much as an ounce of sympathy in my eyes.

"You promised me he'd never come back." I looked towards Aliyaar bhai and Shanzae accusingly. The words were raw in my throat, the bile burning my insides as I struggled to speak. "You told me I wouldn't have to worry about him coming back into my life. Ever."

"And you don't." Shanzae replied quietly, releasing a tense little sigh.

"He is coming back." I gritted through my clenched teeth. "He'd be staying at Lal Mahal. Attending company meetings and taking his seat on the goddamn board and you think I don't have to worry about him coming back?"

"Layla I understand you're upset, but—"

"Oh, I'm more than just upset Dad. I'm furious right now." I growled. I could sense the veins on my temple twitch, threatening to explode with a mixture of rage and fear. "The least you could have done was warn me."

My family exchanged concerned glances. Stealing words and thoughts silently. But they all chose to remain quiet, noting the deep frown lines cutting through my face. Perhaps my family was aware of the effect the news would have on me, but their decision to keep the news from me felt like a stab through my gut. I felt my stomach turn, a rolling sensation threatening to spill the sludge from my belly.

Aliyaar bhai stepped forward, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulder, "Layla, this isn't the first time Zaroon is coming back to Pakistan." He spoke in a level tone, his face not betraying the thoughts that were sinking into his bones."He has visited in the past as well. Quite a few times actually."

"That can't be true. I would have known."

He nodded, but his expressions remained carefully controlled. "You would have, had your grandfather allowed it."

I blinked, my face morphing into confusion. "Dada Jaan? What does he have to do with any of this?"

"It was Dada Jaan who made sure he stayed away from you, me, from us, the party." Shanzae replied defeatedly. She didn't have to say it, but I knew where her thoughts were going. The gentle rise and fall of her chest and the deep frown sitting on her brows confirmed, she was as fazed by the news as I was.

The past was something our family rarely discussed and this particular chapter in our lives had been carefully wrapped and tucked away in the silken yards of history. The past was gone. But never forgotten.

The anguish, the torture and the sufferings my sister had endured in the name of power and politics had my blood roaring and raging through my veins like fire. I could feel the taste of vengeance on my tongue. My nostrils filled with the smell of malice. And all I could see were the dark clouds of deep seated hatred.

I clenched my hands, my nails embedding themselves in the soft flesh of my palms. Pain throbbed through me, but my thoughts were so fragmented with the memories that seemed to gel to my mind like glue, that I wasn't sure if it was the prick from my nails or my internal agony materialising into physical pain.

Something stung deep inside me.

Being the youngest born of the family had its perks. I was pampered like a princess and spoiled like a queen. But that also meant being treated like a baby almost my entire life. It wasn't unusual for my family to keep information from me and casually forget including me in important family matters. For the most part, it wasn't something that bothered me. I was happy living in my bubble, away from the worries and baggage, but today I felt betrayed. Almost like I had been snipped away by my own goddamn family.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's the truth. After Ibrahim Uncle's death, your grandfather did everything to protect you and Shanzae. Zaroon visited him multiple times, but Dada Jaan never allowed him to see or contact you. He was acting as your safety net."

"And now with Dada Jaan in the ICU that net is gone. We could get restraining orders against him, but that would just spill into a very ugly and public feud." Shanzae's mind was in overdrive. I could imagine the several scenarios racing through her mind, rushing and running to find a solution that best served the family, the party and the business. A part of me felt bad for her. She was just a person trying to juggle too many responsibilities all at the same time.

"I don't think there is any need for such extreme measures." Aliyaar Bhai tried to rationalise. "At least not yet. But we'll make sure Zaroon keeps his distance from you and us."

There was something assuring in his voice, but the hot throbbing within my chest refused to subside. "Can't you stop him from coming?"

"Your grandfather is unwell. We can't stop him from meeting his grandfather."

"Yeah but we can stop him from attending the board meetings. From living at Lal Mahal."

My dad rubbed his temples before placing his hand on my shoulder, "Beta, between him, Shahzad and their mother, they still own around 25% of the shares. We can't just oust them from the next general meeting. You're smarter than that Layla."

"And you don't have to worry about him being at Lal Mahal. The place is bigger than the goddamn Buckingham Palace. You will be living in different wings."

"For all its worth, he won't hurt you." Shanzae said slowly, her mind still absorbed in deep thought. Aliyaar Bhai threw his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his chest and bringing her out of the reverie of thoughts that seemed to have socked her up. Shanzae gave him a small smile in return. "He won't hurt your companies either. Or so I hope." She added quickly.

The conversation quickly died, when the door of the main Intensive Care unit flung open and two doctors walked out. The lobby was empty, apart from our family and the guards manning the entrances and door. However outside the hospital, the scenes were very different. With the police, party workers and media assembling outside the gates, it wasn't hard to guess, Dada Jaan still enjoyed an ardent following and inspired great loyalty from his supporters.

"Malik Sahab is a little better. His condition seems to have stabilised but the next 24 hours remain crucial." My dad shook his head at the information, but grimaced. He was stressed and worried, but trying to put on a brave front.

"Shanzae, will you handle the press?" He turned to us once the doctors had left. "I'll go meet with the party leaders along with Aliyaar." Shanzae nodded obediently and then dad turned towards me. "Layla beta you should go back home. Zaroon would be arriving any minute. And I don't think it's a good idea for you two to meet under such circumstances."

A chill ran down my spine at the thought. I needed a drink, a velvety wine was all I needed to chase away the biting emotions running through me.

But Dad was right.

If we had to meet again, it might as well be under better circumstances, when stakes were higher and emotions lower.

"Aly can stay with me tonight." I turned to Shanzae knowing she was worried about her daughter. Despite a very busy and demanding schedule, Shanzae and Aliyaar bhai were very involved parents in the life of their daughter. Aly had an entire team of house staff, caretakers and nannies to look after her, but Shanzae ensured she was always under the supervision of a family member. Aliyaar Bhai too had been very strict about this one rule. This meant Aly often spent afternoons in my office and nights in my bedroom.

"Don't worry about it. Yaar is taking care of her tonight."

"I'm sure he'll make her watch Star Wars again."

"You bet." Shanzae smiled tiredly.

༻✺༺

Through the delicate marble archway of the corridor, the living room unfolded in front of me: tall high ceilings, giant French windows lined with thick velvet curtains and finely threaded Persian carpets running through the length of the hall. The room was decorated with antique pots and vases, expensive paintings lined the walls and a grand piano stood across from the fireplace. Dad sat on one of the couches, a newspaper in his hand, while Zayan lounged on the chaise near the fireplace.

It had been two days since Dada Jaan had been admitted to the hospital, but his condition had remained unstable. Last night the doctors had informed us that he had gained consciousness for a few minutes and had responded well to the treatment.

Dad had barely been home, so to see him sitting and having a cup of coffee, almost relaxed was a surprising change.

"Morning, Dad. Zayan." I gave them both a curt nod.

Dad laid the newspaper down, his expressions drawn and uneasy as he acknowledged my presence. "Good morning, Layla. Are you headed to work?" He asked, taking in my appearance.

I was wearing one of my usual pant suits, the expensive fabric snug against my skin, the cut highlighting the impeccable tailoring. Despite my formidable height, I enjoyed wearing murderously high heels. My style, a lethal combination of power and peril, had carefully evolved over the years from flirty and charming to one that meant business.

I had figured very early on in life, everything was a game, especially power. And dressing the part was the first step towards winning.

"I thought I'd drop by the hospital before heading to work." Since Dad had been busy, most of his workload had been diverted towards me. "Why aren't you at the hospital?"

Dad took a sip of his coffee, "Zaroon is there. He arrived to see Abba this morning."

I tensed hearing his name. But the past two days had prepared me for what was to come. It was only a matter of time before the two of us would be face to face.

"How long will he be staying here?"

"I don't know. But a few months at least."

"Stop lying to her dad!" Zayan interjected with such cutting anger that for a moment I almost didn't recognise his voice. "He plans to stay. Permanently."

༻✺༺

"Layla?" Alina popped her head through the door. I looked up to meet her eyes, but instead of the usual chirpy assistant, always bubbling with over enthusiastic excitement, I was met with a girl who looked stricken. "There is someone here to meet you. He insists on meeting, although I told him you're busy."

"How did security allow someone on my floor without an appointment? Tell—" and then I froze. Dread filling in. Heart pounding. My breath becoming quick and heavy.

No. It could not be.

Taking a laboured breath, I calmed down. I wouldn't let him get under my skin. I was stronger than that. But for a moment I felt like a lost bird. Left drowning in the endless sea of blue skies and billowy clouds. Ready to collapse to the ground and crumble to dust. Just like I had all those years ago.

"Layla, are you ok?" Alina's soft voice filtered through the room, her concern palpable.

I took another staggering breath, letting the fear and feelings pass through my system, letting everything go. I felt something thrum underneath my skin, a feeling of calm enveloping me. I was stronger than this, I hummed.

I might be a lost bird. But I was a bird with wings. Wings that knew how to fly and touch the sky.

He had given me hell, but this was now my hell. And I was its queen.

"Let him in."

A moment later, a deep, commanding voice came from near the threshold of the door. "Layla." His voice sparked a trail of goosebumps tickling down my arms. I hadn't lifted my head to see him, but I could feel his presence filling up the entire space of my office cabin. Suddenly the room felt too small, too claustrophobic.

I slowly looked up. Our eyes clashing, swirling with a myriad of emotions.

Anger. Vengeance. Retribution.

His eyes slowly soaked me in. Those deep dark orbs that once burnt with a familiar comforting warmth were now seemingly empty and fathomless. I stared back silently, taking slow measured breaths, carefully smoothing my expression down until it was blank and unaffected. I'd rather die, than give him the satisfaction of knowing that he still had an effect on me.

He was watching me carefully, cataloging every expression, every change, every reaction. I knew he was looking for a hint of our unforgotten past. A reminder of what we had once shared, hoping that some part of it was still a warm memory in my mind. But I blinked, hiding away every feeling, every emotion that burnt my eyes.

I had always been good at lying and a master at manipulation. It wasn't hard for me to hide my emotions and pretend to be an entirely different person.

But today, it wasn't a pretence. I was a different person. A truly different person from what I had been four years ago, when I had slid the diamond ring off my finger and placed it back on his palm.

Gone was the girl who lived for diamonds and dresses. The girl who was happy in a golden gilded cage. The girl who believed in promises and love.

That girl was dead.

But I wasn't the only one who looked different today. He had changed too. Gone were the casual shirts, loose kurtas, warm shawls and the soothing smiles I so loved. A dark toned crisp suit, pursed lips and gold cufflinks that seemed to catch the light of the drowning sun had purposefully replaced the warm memomires. His posture was sharp, the dark shadow of his stubble scheming with malicious plans.

And his eyes were dark. Black and bleak. Like coal and his heart.

A flash of movement blurred my vision, and my gaze tore from his face to the small neatly wrapped box he held in his hand.

"How are you Layla?"

"Better than I've ever been." My reply was chipped, my voice steady and confident, as I eased back into the chair.

"Are you sure?"

My brows rose in a hot mixture of fury and agitation. "Don't unduly flatter yourself." I chuckled humorlessly. "You don't know a thing about me."

"I know everything about you, Layla. Just because I've been away doesn't mean I've kept away." His voice was low and gravelly.

"Then humour me." I crossed my arms across my chest and watched him with my spine steeled. My gaze forbidding and my posture closed.

"Layla." My name left his lips like an unanswered prayer; his voice pained and strangulated. Inch by inch, I sank into the arms of memory. The deep velvety timber of his voice and the feel of my name from his lips reminded me of all the dark desolate nights I had spent thinking of him. The memories felt real, the pain brutal and unforgiving.

His eyes caught mine and the memories hung between us. We stood a mere feet apart, but there were lands, oceans and universes between us.

"You're still the fiery little spitfire that had me wrapped around her finger."

Pressing my hands on the armrests, I gave him a bored look, "And now I've the entire world wrapped around my finger. And I'd advise you to choose your next words very carefully."

A sliver of a smile broke through his cutting expression, "I'm proud of you. And what you've achieved in such a short span of time." He gestured towards the office.

"It was a lot of work. And as you can probably see, I still have a lot of work. So if you could please see yourself out." I pointed towards the door, "Or perhaps I could have my security escort you out."

His brow shot up, and I couldn't tell if he was surprised or throwing me a challenge. And then his lips twisted into a conceited smirk, "You wouldn't want a spectacle." He chuckled while walking inside and closing the door behind him. "The world might not know of our split, but they are aware of our relationship."

Fire and indignation burnt through me, "What relationship are you talking about? There was no relationship."

"Everyone knows Layla, there is no denying it."

"No one knows shit." I minced upon my words.

"Everyone knows we're cousins, Layla. Do they not?" Humiliation rolled over me, a toxic concoction of rage and spiteful vengeance warmed my blood. A winning smile crossed his features and he sprawled against his seat like an emperor on a throne. "Or was it some other relationship you were referring to?" I did not have to see his face to hear the smile in his voice.

"Don't play games with me." I seethed. "I'll tear you apart. Just like I did all those years ago."

He was all slow smiles and carefully curated words, seeking to dig deep beneath my countenance of indifference and inciting a response. "You might not admit it. But you still care for me Layla. A part of you still remembers what we had. What we shared, but you're too stubborn to adm—"

I forced a smile and then spoke with the damning chill of an empress, "Of course I remember. I remember and regret every second I spent with you. The memory of every moment we shared does nothing but suffocate me." The words came out laced with malice, but my gaze remained on him, unflinching and unmoving.

He sobered at my words, the smirk vanishing almost immediately. "I understand you're angry. And your anger is warranted, but you can't keep the past dictating our future."

Genuine laughter bubbled up in my throat. "There is no 'our'. There never was."

"Layla." His voice dropped to a threatening whisper.

"Shut up, you—"

He flinched, his face twisting with disgust. "Watch your words, L. Women shouldn't curse."

"Well. Fuck you."

For a moment he truly felt shook, taken aback by my unexpected words and I smiled, the deviously innocent smile that had him so enamoured with me. The angles of his face morphed from disbelieving confusion to powerless anger and I watched him revel in his frustration with an infuriatingly cool smirk.

"Just because Dada Jaan isn't here to stop you, it doesn't mean you can weasel your way back into my life again like a lousy sewer rat."

"That insult was just –," he paused, his dark eyes heating up with anger. "Unnecessary."

"I can be more creative if you want."

"I missed this fiery mouth. I missed it. Every single day." A tangible, suffocating energy pulsed between us.

"Don't push it."

"Layla, I understand your anger and I might deserve every ounce of it." Every trace of emotion on his face melted into a hard, unreadable mask. "Today I didn't walk in here hoping you'd forgive me and everything would go back to what it was. I made mistakes. Grave mistakes and I've lived with them ever since. But I want a chance. Don't you think I deserve at least one?"

"Of course. And that's the only reason you're still standing here."

"Layla, please hear me–"

"Stop. Don't try to test your luck. There is no reason for us to sit here and pretend we're over our past. You schemed with your father, sided with him every step of the way, making sure you destroyed my family and now you come back hoping we would all forgive you. Don't you think that's being a little too optimistic?"

"I never tried to harm you or your family Layla. Dad and I would never have thought of such a thing. Whatever problems we had were with Aliyaar and his entitled behaviour–"

I wanted to laugh at his audacity, "You and your father don't get to decide who is and isn't a part of my family. Aliyaar Bhai is my sister's husband, my brother and a son to my parents. And a wonderful father to Alisha, who Shanzae almost lost because of the stress you and your family caused her."

He leaned back into his seat, as if trying to hide his expressions under the shadows, but his face remained inscrutable. "I didn't know Shanzae was pregnant."

"Would that have changed things?"

"I don't know." He admitted with a sigh. And for the first time today, he seemed genuinely honest. "I'm not here to offer explanations and excuses for my past. I have made mistakes, mistakes I'm not very proud of. But it does not change the truth. It is true, I hate Aliyaar and I wanted him out. But I had no share in the plan my father had tried to orchestrate at the airport that day. I wanted Aliyaar gone, not dead."

"Am I supposed to find this redeeming?"

"You can choose to believe whatever you want. But it is the truth. For all its worth, I have always loved Shanzae like a little sister and I knew she was in love with that man." He spoke with disdain, crossing his legs over his knees.

"She wasn't just in love with that man. She was married to that man. A marriage that took place to serve you, your father and your party."

He scoffed, "Aliyaar was milking as much benefit out of it as any of us. He married Shanzae for his own gain, not because he was in love with her. Things changed much later."

"He might have, yes. But at every stage of their relationship he put her first. He cherished her, respected her and gave her wings to fly. Once Shanzae was a part of his life, his entire world revolved around her and only her. And not only did he love her, he made sure the entire world knew just what she meant to him." My voice dropped dangerously, "Unlike you, he never hid her like a dirty little secret."

He flinched, visibly taken aback with the acrid bite in my tone, "They were married, Layla. Their circumstances were different. Very different from ours."

"Which part of, there is no 'our' or 'we' here, did you not understand?"

"If there wasn't, we wouldn't be here having this conversation Layla." He shifted forward and placed the small box on the table. "This is yours."

"I don't need your gifts."

"It is not a gift. It belongs to you." With that, he rose from his seat and pushed the box towards me and shrugged the lapels of his suit. His eyes never once wandered away from my glowering ones and a prickling awareness peppered down my neck. "I hope to see you wear it again soon."

I could feel the unspoken words lie thick and heavy on his tongue, but before I could make any further assessments, he turned around and walked away, leaving me staring at the box with an uneasy feeling gnawing at my skin.

Slowly pulling the ribbon off the box, I sucked in a harsh rugged breath to prepare myself to reveal the hidden content inside. I stood rooted, frozen watching the stone inside glimmer back to life as it caught the dying light of the sun.

He did not!

It was a ring.

Our engagement ring.

༻✺༺

Thoughts?

Zaroon is back. And with a bang.
But has he changed? Only time will tell.

Until next time, keep me in your prayers.

Namkeen 🥀