The door to Dawood’s office slammed shut behind him as he walked down the hallway, his mind still clouded by the argument with Ali and the rage that coursed through him. The waleema was hours away, but he didn’t care about formalities. He needed time to think, to figure out where everything had gone wrong. His closest friend had just walked out on him, and no amount of gunshots or smashed furniture would calm the storm inside him.

Outside the shooting room, several of his men stood around, their eyes filled with apprehension as they watched him emerge. They knew better than to approach him when he was in this state. The tension in the air was palpable; they could sense that something had gone terribly wrong.

He passed the guards, barely registering their presence as they stood straighter at his approach. Their fear didn’t matter to him right now. His focus was elsewhere, on Yara, on her father, on the devastation that had come crashing into his life ever since she had become a part of it. He didn’t spare his men a single glance as he walked past them, his jaw clenched tight, the rage emanating from him like a dark cloud.

He needed air.

His thoughts were consumed by Ali’s words, echoing over and over in his head.

You’ve lost control.

Dawood growled under his breath, fists clenching at his sides. He’d never lost control before, his grip on everything was iron-clad. He was the head of the Haider family, the man who struck fear into the hearts of anyone who dared to oppose him. And now? Now he was supposed to believe that it was all slipping through his fingers because of one woman?

It couldn’t be true.

But deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind, Dawood knew that things had changed. Yara wasn’t just any woman. She had turned his world upside down. Marrying her had been a calculated move, a means to an end, a way to settle the score with her father. But what he hadn’t expected was the way she haunted his thoughts, the way her tears had made his chest tighten with something dangerously close to guilt.

No, Dawood thought fiercely. I did what I had to do.

Without even thinking, Dawood headed toward his bedroom, where the heavy curtains were drawn, shutting out the light of the morning. Ignoring the oppressive darkness, he walked straight to the balcony, yanking open the glass door with a force that made it shudder. He stepped outside, hoping that the cool morning air would temper the fire inside him, but it did little to calm him.

From the balcony, he could see the estate below coming alive with activity. His men were busy preparing for the waleema, the grand celebration that would showcase his marriage to Yara. The tents were already being set up, large and white, sprawling across the gardens like a stain against the lush green grass. Workers were bustling around, arranging tables and chairs, stringing up lights, and preparing the stage where he and Yara would sit as husband and wife.

His hands gripped the iron railing of the balcony until his knuckles turned white. The sight of it all made his stomach churn with bitterness. This entire marriage was a sham. A revenge plot gone wrong, a personal disaster. He had thought marrying Yara would bring some form of justice for what her father had done, but all it had done was tear his life apart even more.

Ali’s words from the previous night echoed in his mind: You’ve lost control of everything. You’re so blinded by your obsession with revenge that you can’t even see the damage you’re doing.

Dawood slammed his fist against the railing, the impact reverberating through his arm. His anger toward Yara flared. She was the cause of all of this. Because of her father’s betrayal, his life had been thrown into chaos. He had been consumed by the need for vengeance, and now, even his closest friend, Ali, was slipping through his fingers.

It wasn’t just Yara’s fault. Her father had to pay for this, too. Dawood’s mind raced as he glared down at the preparations for the waleema. A plan began to form, a cold and calculated thought creeping into the corners of his rage. If Yara’s father was the one responsible for this mess, then Yara would be the one to suffer. He would make her pay, not only for her father’s mistakes but for the way she had destroyed his life and torn apart his friendship with Ali.

The wheels of vengeance turned in Dawood’s mind as he stood there, his anger still burning but now focused, directed. He would use the waleema as an opportunity. He would punish Yara in front of everyone, make her see what it meant to cross him. She would regret ever being a part of this world.

Satisfied with his plan, Dawood turned away from the balcony. He would need to get some rest before the event, to gather his strength for what was to come.

.
.
.

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind broke his thoughts. Dawood didn’t turn around, his back still to the door as the footsteps stopped a few feet away.

“Dawood bhai,” a voice said quietly, hesitating.

It was Hassan, one of his most trusted lieutenant. Dawood remained silent, still staring out into the distance, but he could feel Hassan’s unease.

“The guests are arriving,” Hassan continued, sensing Dawood’s mood. “Everything is in place for the waleema.”

Dawood finally turned, his expression cold and unreadable. “Is Ali attending?”

Hassan hesitated, unsure how to answer. “No, bhai. He left the estate early this morning.”

Dawood’s jaw clenched, but he gave no further reaction. The rift between him and Ali was deepening, and he didn’t know how, or if, it could be repaired.

“Let me know when Yara is ready,” Dawood said quietly, his tone leaving no room for further conversation.

Hassan nodded, though he hesitated as if there was something else on his mind. “Dawood bhai… you should know… there’s been word from the men guarding the perimeter. There’s talk of movement, someone watching the estate from outside. We don’t know who, but after the intruder at the nikkah…”

“Deal with it,” Dawood interrupted, not in the mood for more complications. “I don’t want anything interfering with today.”

Hassan nodded quickly and left, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Dawood let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. It seemed that trouble was always lurking around every corner. But now, more than ever, he needed to keep control. Ali’s departure had rattled him, but the bigger problem was the growing feeling that he was making enemies from within. If he wasn’t careful, everything he had built could collapse around him.

.
.
.

Yara stared at her reflection in the mirror, the heavy dress draped around her shoulders like a weight she couldn’t shake. The dark circles under her eyes were barely concealed by the makeup Safiya Ma had applied, and her lips were painted into a forced smile that she could barely recognize as her own.

It had been hours since Safiya Ma had come to wake her. Hours of being dressed and prepared for the waleema, the final event that would seal her fate as Dawood’s wife in the eyes of the world.

She felt like a prisoner!

A soft knock on the door startled her, and Yara turned to see Safiya Ma enter the room once again. The older woman smiled gently, her eyes filled with sympathy.

“You look beautiful, child,” she said softly, but the words felt hollow to Yara.

Yara turned back to the mirror, her heart sinking. “I don’t feel beautiful,” she whispered. “I feel trapped.”

Safiya Ma approached her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy, Yara. But sometimes, in life, we must endure things we never wanted.”

Yara swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill over. “I never wanted this,” she murmured. “I never wanted to marry him.”

Safiya Ma sighed, her heart heavy for the girl in front of her. “I know. But you must be strong, my dear. You must survive this.”

Yara’s gaze hardened in the mirror. She had been telling herself that since the moment Dawood had forced the nikkah upon her, telling herself that she had to survive, that she had to keep going. But as time passed by, it was getting harder and harder to believe.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” Yara whispered, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how much longer I can pretend.”

Safiya Ma’s grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, a silent gesture of comfort. “You’ll do it because you’re stronger than you think, Yara. You’ve already endured so much. Just a little longer, my child.”

The words were meant to soothe, but Yara couldn’t shake the dread that clung to her like a second skin.

A second knock interrupted them, and this time, it was a guard standing in the doorway. His expression was blank, but the message was clear.

“It’s time.”

Yara’s heart sank further, but she forced herself to stand, her legs trembling beneath the weight of her dress and the crushing reality of her situation.

With one final look at the mirror, Yara turned and followed the guard out of the room, Safiya Ma close behind. Each step felt like she was walking toward her doom, the echoes of her heels against the marble floor amplifying her fear.

As they approached the entrance to the estate where the waleema was to take place, Yara’s breath caught in her throat. The doors loomed large in front of her, a barrier between her and the life she had once known. Beyond those doors, she would no longer be Yara, the girl with dreams of freedom and a life of her own choosing. Beyond those doors, she would be nothing more than Dawood’s wife.

The doors creaked open, and the murmur of voices reached her ears. The garden was filled with people, guests, mafias, strangers who had come to witness the display of power that Dawood had orchestrated.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stepped forward, the eyes of the crowd turning toward her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like a lamb being led to slaughter.

And then she saw him, Dawood, standing at the far end of the garden, his dark eyes locked on her. There was no warmth in his gaze, no sign of the man who had once shown her tenderness in the dead of night. There was only cold, calculated control.

Yara forced herself to keep walking, her hands trembling at her sides. She had no choice. She had to go through with this. But as she approached Dawood, her mind raced with a singular thought.

Without a word, Dawood extended his arm to her, offering it as was expected of a husband escorting his wife. Yara hesitated for a moment before placing her hand lightly on his arm. She could feel the tension radiating from him, the barely restrained fury that made her stomach twist in knots.

Dawood led her to the stage where a grand throne-like seat had been prepared for them. Flashes of cameras were going off as everyone turned to witness the union of Dawood and Yara. The cheers and applause grew louder as they took their seats. Yara’s heart pounded in her chest, her body rigid with fear.

Dawood stood from his seat, raising his hand to silence the crowd. The room fell quiet as all eyes turned to him.

“Today,” Dawood began, his voice strong and authoritative, “I would like to introduce to everyone present here, my wife, Yara.” His words were filled with a dangerous edge, though his tone remained deceptively calm. “She is now a part of our world, bound to me by this marriage.”

Yara stood frozen, her heart thudding in her chest as Dawood continued to speak. The fear that had been simmering inside her since the night of the nikkah began to bubble over. She could feel the weight of the room’s gaze on her, the cold stares of men who were no strangers to violence.

As Dawood spoke, Yara’s eyes flicked to the entrance at the far end of the estate. It was guarded, of course, but it was the only way out. The thought of escaping had crossed her mind before, but now, as she stood there with her future laid out before her like a trap, the urge to flee was overwhelming.

Maybe, just maybe, she could slip away unnoticed. Maybe there was a chance to escape this nightmare.

I have to find a way out.

The smile on Dawood’s face as she looked at him was as chilling as the cold steel of a knife. His hand extended toward her, and she had no choice but to take it, her fingers trembling as they touched his.

And just like that, the final act began.

The guests clapped, the cameras flashed, and Yara stood by Dawood’s side, her heart heavy with the weight of the life she had never wanted.

But deep inside, beneath the fear and the dread, there was a spark, a small flicker of hope.

One day, I will find a way out. One day, I will be free.

And with that thought, Yara forced herself to smile, hiding the storm that raged within her behind a mask of composure.

But even she couldn’t deny the growing sense of dread that told her freedom was farther away than she could ever imagine.

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Hiii / Assalamu Alaikum
I hope all of you are doing good ❤️

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