یہ جو کھلی کھلی تھی عداوتیں مجھے راس تھیں
یہ جو زہر خند سلام تھے مجھے کھا گئے

Friday – 7:30pm

The television was blaring with the news of Yazdani family’s doom and the whole family was there to witness it. The room was silent, its occupants a picture of stun and bewilder while the newscaster kept repeating the news.

“Ibrahim Yazdani, son of former senator Morad Yazdani, arrested in a drug case.”

The newscaster reported of the current situation, narrating to the world the Yazdani family’s refusal to comment, the delay in the statement that had still not been issued by the police, and the influential man behind bars, stripped of his pride and dignity.

Hemayal watched the news with wide eyes of her own, mind in a haze despite everything, heart still in her sleeve. A heavy gulp of saliva down her throat and an uncomfortable cough later, she averted her gaze from the television and looked at the residents of the room – all bewildered, all shocked.

“Hemayal!” Baba was the first one to break the silence and approach her, his wide eyes frantic.

The father and daughter’s eyes clashed across the room and Hemayal was thrust back in the reality with sheer force at the pain she saw in her father’s eyes – her family cared about Ibrahim.

The revelation was unfortunate, badly timed and extremely painful and no amount of caution could have prepared her for it.

“Your brother will handle this, his family will handle this. Don’t worry.” Anisha Bhabhi placed a shaking hand on her shoulder and Hemayal felt cold crawling up her spine.

Lala had left the house the moment the news had arrived and no word had reached her yet from him; a good thing or bad, she had yet to decide. Baba wanted to go too but Lala stopped him, hinting that Hemayal might need him.

What for, she still didn’t know.

Her family’s reaction to his arrest was the hardest part to digest in the entire scenario – their worry and hurry surprising her. Maybe it was because of her own self that that man had come to be of such importance to her family but whatever the reason may be, it didn’t settle well with the brown-haired woman at all.

“I’m fine. He’ll be fine too.” She knew he will be; he was too strong for Hemayal to bring down – only a slight puncture was what she was capable of. 

“Do you want to talk to him?” Baba asked and Hemayal’s surprised eyes met his.

“Talk? I can?” She asked, cautious.

“We’ll find a way if you want to.” Anisha Bhabhi said, her eyes narrowed with concern, this time for Hemayal.

“No, I don’t want to,” she shook her head, knew too well the cost that phone call will take on her soul.  “Do you believe him, Baba?” 

“It doesn’t really matter, he’s family. We support family.” Baba answered and Hemayal had to press her lips tightly to prevent the scream that wanted to break free. 

That man, he trusted without question, but his reluctance to trust his own daughter after her kidnapping, his demands for proof was what hit right home. Was she not family?

“I always trusted you, child.” Baba said, reading her mind. “It wasn’t about trust with you.”

No, it wasn’t about trust, it was about ego and bad blood but Hemayal nodded, choosing not to respond, not knowing how to.

“But what if he did it? What if he is guilty of what he’s accused of?” Hemayal probed, wanting an answer to that question with bordering desperation. 

“He is not, Hemayal. I know him. He is many things but not a criminal. And drugs? Come on, it’s so obvious he was set up.” Baba said, conviction in his words, and Hemayal almost wanted to scoff at him.

He may have not committed this crime but that didn’t exempt him from others – kidnapping, for instance. But even as her mind reminded her of his crimes, her heart knew her father was right. Ibrahim Yazdani was many things, he was not a liar.

“How do you know he was set up?” Anisha Bhabhi asked, confusion lacing her forehead, and Hemayal nodded her head, urging her father to answer.

“Why would a man involved in a case of such high importance leave the evidence in his property? Why would he even go there? You know, he is not stupid. And trust me when I say, if he were involved, he’d never have gotten caught.” Baba said, his every word supporting his son-in-law and Hemayal almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all.

Why had he never uttered such words for her? Why had he never shown even a small percentage of this compassion and conviction to her? 

“And his motel, with police and the news leaking at the perfect time. Hemayal, he didn’t do it.” Baba repeated, his intentions pure of not wanting her daughter to doubt her husband but this blind trust didn’t settle well with Hemayal either.

“But, Baba…” Hemayal began but was softly cut off by her father.

“Hemayal, your Dadu chose him for a reason. If you don’t believe me, believe him.” Baba’s words were soft, urging and filled with warmth Hemayal hadn’t heard before and she was effectively silenced.

Silence descended upon the room again, the newscaster’s voice now again the sole source of tear in the sacred silence inside. No new developments had taken place and she only repeated the old information.

“After a police raid in Ibrahim Yazdani’s motel on the outskirts of Abbottabad a few hours ago, the authorities found a large amount of drugs in the place. Ibrahim Yazdani, who was present when the raid happened, was arrested on spot, and taken to Islamabad for further investigation.”

The vibration of her phone pulled her out of the reverie, her eyes darting to her phone where Mustafa shone brightly.

Oh, damn.

Vacating her space, she exited the room and answered the phone, already asking heavens for strength and comfort. She knew that for the next few hours, there would be none.

“I’m at the front of your house. Come outside.” Mustafa’s voice was serious and harsh, and Hemayal gulped after a long sigh.

Ending the call, she retrieved her jacket from her room and hurriedly exited the house, the cold wind slapping her across the face as she made her way across the road to the car against which Mustafa leaned – the same place where his brother had stood not long ago and anchored her tilting world.

Don’t think about it, she cursed slightly.

“WHY?” Mustafa’s voice was loud and Hemayal flinched, retreating a step as a shiver slithered up her spine.

“You know why.” Hemayal answered after a second, hardening her voice and steeling her spine.

“Are you happy now? Satisfied?” Mustafa asked, voice hardened to stone and Hemayal gulped.

“Immensely.” She replied despite the fear crawling inside her.

“Is your grandfather alive now? Did he come back from the dead?” Mustafa asked, his eyes blaring with sheer hatred and venom. 

“MUSTAFA!” Hemayal shouted, not fear but pain shooting through her at his words.

How dare he bring her deceased Dadu in this?

“Exactly!” Mustafa shouted back, his eyes wide and furious. “It fucking hurts!” 

Something in his eyes silenced Hemayal – maybe it was the glisten or maybe the desperation – but whatever it was, it never allowed the words to escape Hemayal’s throat. She could see his pain, his hurt, his immense, immense hatred for her and Hemayal felt her exterior breaking.

“Your Dadu is dead, he isn’t coming back but my brother is still fucking alive, Hemayal.” Mustafa said through clenched teeth at the end, and Hemayal shut her eyes for a second.  

“He’s the reason Dadu died.” She said slowly, voice small but hard.

“Is he? Or is it because your Dadu loved you too much? That he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you?” Mustafa asked, his eyes hardened to slits.

“Your brother kidnapped…” Hemayal began again, but was cut off – rudely and harshly.

“He didn’t know it was you!” Mustafa shouted again, throwing his hands in the air whilst breathing harshly. “And when he found out, he came crawling to you for forgiveness. Didn’t that mean anything?” 

“No, it didn’t. He was too late.” Hemayal lied, clenching her jaw as she matched her brother-in-law’s stare with a hard one of her own.

“I came to you, remember? I begged you to forgive him. He begged you to forgive him. What stone are you made of, Hemayal?” Mustafa asked, his voice slow this time, ached, pained.

“A stone he carved.” She replied slowly too, a bout of tear caught in her throat.

Silence descended upon the night, only the howling wind and far off people breaking it. Mustafa turned away from her, looking up at the sky with closed eyes and clenched jaw, his muscles tense, shoulders taut.

“He was happy.” He said softly, still looking up as he sat on the bonnet of his car.

“What?” Hemayal’s brows drew together as she asked.

“I was there when you called him to meet at the motel. He was so goddamn happy.” Mustafa said silently, looking every bit of a broken brother and a part of Hemayal’s heart broke too.

“Well, I’m sorry for ruining his happiness after he ruined my life.” Hemayal turned too, staring straight ahead at the dull streetlights.

“How exactly has he ruined your life, Hemayal? By returning you home that night? By asking you for forgiveness just about a million times? Or by making sure you’re always safe and happy? How has he ruined your life?” Mustafa gave her a sad smile and words deserted Hemayal for the second time during their conversation.

“Do you know what ruining a life means, Bhabhi?” Mustafa stood to his full height and faced her, addressing her with a word that cut right through her soul – not because of the word but because of the sarcasm, irony and pain that rested in his voice when he said it.

“It means having your respect and dignity questioned all over the country, on every news channel, on every social media outlet,” Mustafa began, his voice small but words sharp arrows. “It means your mother ending up in a hospital.” Hemayal’s heart stopped, brain froze at the news but Mustafa hadn’t finished yet. “It means your career on hold, your reputation in shards, your social life in question.”

Mustafa silenced, leaving behind a havoc on her heart in its wake. Wasn’t this what she wanted? His reputation torn, his position in society degraded but why did it freaking hurt so much now that it had happened? What was this pain that seemed to flow in her veins? 

“That is life ruined, Hemayal Khakwani.” Mustafa finished, leaving a stunned and pained Hemayal behind as he rounded her and opened the door of his car.

“If anything happens to him, to my mother, my family – I swear to God, mine will be the last face you’ll see before you die.” Mustafa threatened from behind, on open threat that failed to evoke any fear in her, only heart-numbing pain. 

With those his final words, Mustafa sat behind the wheel and sped the car away, leaving behind a broken Hemayal with gutted wits and reeling soul.

She knew revenge didn’t bring happiness, but why was it bringing such acute pain? 

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Friday – 10:30pm

“Lala!” Hemayal shot from her seat by the fire as she approached a tired Hadeed Khakwani who had just entered the living room. 

“Hami,” Lala smiled as he pulled her in for a side hug. “He’ll be fine. Quit worrying.”

Placing a kiss at the top of her head, he urged her deeper in the room, his arm still around her shoulder. 

Why did everyone assume the pain on her face as worry? She was aching, all right but she wasn’t worried. And pained only because Mustafa’s words kept playing in her mind on a repeat, aching because she had finally realized that she had gone a little too overboard with her revenge but not worried, never worried. 

“Where is he now?” Hemayal asked, heart in her mouth.

“Police station. He’ll be there for the night.” Lala informed her with a deep sigh just as Baba entered the room, closely followed by Anisha Bhabhi.

“Hadeed, what happened?” Baba questioned as he occupied the seat and looked at his son expectantly. “Did he do it?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Lala sighed, drained and tired. “But this drug case was high profile even before, and now that he is in the middle of an open investigation, it’s harder than I thought.” 

“What do you mean?” Hemayal questioned, confused.

“Well, if the case wasn’t that public, maybe it would have been easy. We could have used our resources and he’d be out before the night but with the whole media watching, it’s almost impossible.” Hadeed informed the audience and Hemayal leaned back against the sofa with a sigh. 

That was something she didn't understand. Involving media in the situation was never part of her plan, how were they so timely informed of his arrest?

Initially, however, Hemayal had wanted to do exactly that but Danyal had talked sense into her.

He’s famous, he’s influential. Fame isn’t always good, influence doesn’t always protect. You can only imagine what the media will do to him after he gets involved in such a high profile drug case, Danyal’s words rang in her ears as she listened to the situation as exactly what Danyal had predicted. 

“But if he isn’t guilty, what’s the difficulty?” Anisha Bhabhi asked and Hadeed Lala looked at his wife and shrugged.

“He was arrested during the raid – that complicates things. Maybe if he wasn’t present there, we could have denied the whole thing, said it was a set up but he was there.” Lala said and Hemayal shut her eyes tightly – this was her idea.

“So, what happens now?” Baba asked, casting Hemayal a quick concerned glance.

“The only good news is, the forensics couldn’t find his fingerprints on any of the drugs and he arrived on the place after the police, he never entered the room. It’s a small thing but that’s all we need. We’ll find him a good reason to be there at that time and he’ll walk.” Lala said, turning to face Hemayal with a soft and reassured glance. 

Mehmal's idea to not leave his fingerprints on the evidence.

“Hami, child, he’ll be fine. I’ll get him out. It’s so obvious it was a set up, it’s comical. We just need to say the right thing at the right place and he’ll get out sooner than you can blink.” Lala reassured with a soft pat on her head and Hemayal sighed.

“Really?” She asked with sad eyes.

“Yes, the only reason he’s still there is because it’s a weekend night. Monday, maximum, and he’ll be out. I promise you.” Lala said in an affirmative and Hemayal nodded her head. 

“I trust you.” Hemayal tried to smile but it just couldn’t reach her eyes, no amount of happiness now would.

“He was asking about you.” Hadeed mentioned a little while later, after Baba and Anisha Bhabhi had retired to their respective rooms, the light in the room had dimmed, and the fire had sparked a little more.

“What did he ask?” Hemayal whispered, heart in her throat once again.

“Asked about how close you were to Dadu,” Lala said and Hemayal’s heart skipped a beat, shock decorating the lines of her face. “I know, I was surprised too. Here he was, locked up, behind bars and what was he asking me? About Dadu.” 

Oh, Ibrahim.

“When you meet him tomorrow, will you say something to him for me?” Hemayal didn’t know what gripped her to utter the next words but she knew it was God’s truth, knew that if the words don’t leave her now, they never will.

“What?” Lala asked, a soft smile adorning his face.

“Tell him I won't bring heels next time.” Hemayal whispered. 

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