Days turned into nights, and nights into a never-ending abyss for Miraal. The Saira Mahal had become her sanctuary and her prison, a place where her heartache and despair echoed through empty corridors. The sleeping pills had become her solace, offering temporary respite from the torment that haunted her.

Abraar had become a distant figure in her life, a phantom of her past. She knew he still visited the Saira Mahal, silently watching over her from the shadows, but their interactions had become increasingly rare. Each time they met, the tension between them seemed to grow, a palpable reminder of the fractured bond that had once bound them together.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the mahal, Miraal sat in the dimly lit room. She was still alive, still capable of feeling something, even if it was only misery.

The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sound of her breathing. Miraal's eyes were vacant, her once-vibrant spirit extinguished by the weight of her past and the uncertainty of her future.

A knock on the door shattered the stillness, causing Miraal to startle. She placed the bottle down, her senses dulled by the sleeping pills. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice a mere whisper.

The door creaked open, and Abraar's tall silhouette filled the doorway. His presence was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of the tangled emotions that still bound them.

"Miraal," he said softly, his voice tinged with concern.

She looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and weary. "Abraar," she replied, her voice devoid of any emotion.

He stepped further into the room, his gaze locked onto hers. "Are you okay?" he observed, his eyes scanning the scattered bottles.

Miraal let out a bitter laugh. "What does it matter to you? You're not my husband, and I'm not your responsibility."

Abraar's jaw clenched, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. "You're wrong, Miraal. You are my wife. You'll always be my responsibility. "

She scoffed, her laughter laced with bitterness. "And look how well you've taken care of that said responsibility."

He moved closer to her, his expression pleading. "I know I've failed you, Miraal, but I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped loving you."

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, the walls around her heart began to crack. But she quickly hardened her resolve, unwilling to let herself be vulnerable again. "Love is a luxury I can't afford," she whispered.

Abraar reached out to touch her, but she recoiled, her gaze filled with defiance. "Don't," she warned, her voice trembling. "Don't pretend to care now, when it's too late."

He took a step back, his eyes filled with regret. "I never stopped caring, Miraal. I never wanted any of this to happen."

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. "But it did, and now we're both trapped in this nightmare."

The room seemed to close in on them, the weight of their shared pain suffocating. Miraal's eyes drifted to the ornate table where a gleaming object lay—a revolver.

She picked up the gun, her hands trembling as she held it. Abraar's eyes widened in alarm. "Miraal, what are you doing?"

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering. "I will never forget what you did, Abraar. I can never forget the betrayal. It haunts me, but maybe I can forget you if you disappeared. Meri zindagi se humesha ke liye gayab ho jao."

Abraar's heart pounded in his chest as he watched her, the revolver now in her trembling hand. "Miraal, don't," he pleaded, his voice desperate.

She laughed, a bitter and hollow sound. "Khan, it's too late. We're both beyond redemption."

Tears welled up in Abraar's eyes as he saw the desperation in her gaze. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her, not like this. "Miraal, please, put the gun down. We can find a way to make things right."

But Miraal's resolve remained unshaken. "There is no right anymore, Khan. Only pain and regret."

With a trembling hand, she placed the revolver on the table, its cold steel gleaming in the dim light. Her eyes were distant, lost in the depths of her despair.

Abraar's heart ached as he looked at her, his own tears falling freely now. "Miraal, I can't lose you. I won't let you disappear from my life."

She rolled the dupatta around her hand, lost in thought. "Maybe it's too late for us, Khan. Maybe we were never meant to be."

The room fell silent once more, the weight of their fractured bond hanging heavily in the air. It was a moment of painful realization, of two souls torn apart by circumstances beyond their control.

As the night deepened, Miraal's eyes remained fixed on the revolver, a symbol of the darkness that had engulfed their lives. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if there was any redemption left for either of them.

____

Abraar sat alone in his house, the weight of his choices and the fractured bond with Miraal heavy on his shoulders. He had come to the painful realization that she couldn't survive at the Saira Mahal any longer. She had grown to resent him, and he could see it in her eyes. But there was a way to bring her back, to enforce the law that still bound them together. She was his wife, and if he used the law to his advantage, he could compel her to return.

His phone rang, breaking the somber silence. The caller's name displayed on the screen was Rabia, a name he hadn't heard from in a long time. He answered the call, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Rabia, is everything alright?" he inquired, his heart already heavy with the weight of his own troubles.

Rabia's voice was somber as she spoke, "Abraar, you need to come to the hospital. Rano is on her deathbed, and she has something important to tell you."

His brows furrowed in concern. Rano, the loyal old servant who had been a part of his household for years, had always been a source of comfort and wisdom. Without hesitation, Abraar rushed to the hospital, his thoughts filled with anxiety and uncertainty.

When he arrived, Rano lay in a dimly lit hospital room, her frail form barely visible beneath the white sheets. She was weak and struggled to speak, but her eyes held a determined glint as she motioned for Abraar to come closer.

"Rano, what happened?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

Rano managed a weak smile. "It's my time, Abraar Sahib. But before I leave this world, I need to tell you something—a secret that has burdened my conscience for far too long."

Abraar leaned in closer, his heart pounding with anticipation. "What secret, Rano?"

With great effort, Rano began to speak, her voice trembling as she recounted a story that had remained hidden for years.

---

The tale of a young girl named Sidra. She had been a bright and jolly child of merely twelve years when tragedy struck her family. Her father had long passed away, and her widowed mother struggled to make ends meet, often resorting to begging for their next meal.

One fateful day, as Sidra was selling mope clothes and cleaning supplies in the market, she caught the attention of Mir Mehmoud, the powerful and enigmatic feudal lord. He noticed her youthful innocence and striking beauty, and his gaze lingered on her for a moment too long. His men, ever watchful, observed his interest.

Later that day, a representative of the Mir family visited Sidra's humble home. They offered her a proposition—an opportunity to work as a full-time maid in the opulent Mir mansion. The promise of a high-paying salary was tempting, and Sidra, glancing at her impoverished mother, agreed with the hope of providing for her family.

As a thirteen-year-old, Sidra adapted to her new life in the mansion. She worked tirelessly, sending every penny she earned back to her mother. In the quarters provided for the servants, she shared a room with Rano, who had also joined as a maid.

"We were children, and we didn't understand the true purpose of our presence there," Rano explained to Abraar. "We worked hard and sent money to our families, unaware of the sinister intentions that lurked within the mansion."

But Sidra, she devoted every rupee of her earnings to her mother's well-being,, "Agar uss ke bas mein hota toh Khana bhi bhejti" – a testament to the depth of her love and longing for her family. Most of the girls around her age were expectedly immature, but they failed to comprehend that their presence in the mansion was for a purpose beyond what met the eye.

As the weeks passed, unsettling rumors began to circulate among the maids. Some of the young girls had disappeared mysteriously, and it was said that they had attempted to enter Mir Mehmoud's bedchamber. As a result, they were dismissed from their duties.

However, darker whispers suggested that those girls had met a gruesome fate at the hands of the feudal lord. Fear began to grip the young maids, and many of them decided to quit or run away, seeking refuge from the ominous mansion.

Sidra, however, convinced Rano to stay, assuring her that they could endure the hardships and ensure their families' financial well-being. Their dedication to work intensified, and they were paid double for their efforts.

Rano continued, her voice heavy with the weight of the memories. "Sidra was terrified of him, but she worked diligently to avoid his advances. However, she developed feelings for a young doctor named Haroon Qureshi, who had captured her heart with his kindness."

The first time she met him Sidra, she had adorned herself in a vibrant red shalwar kameez with a long dupatta. In that attire, she exuded a captivating allure, turning heads as she entered Mir Mehmoud's room for cleaning duties, it was Eid and we had forced her for once to dress up. As she left the room, their paths crossed, and he looked at her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

In a soft but commanding tone, he declared, "From today onwards, you are my personal maid." Overwhelmed and fearful, Sidra reluctantly agreed, resigning herself to a life of servitude in even closer proximity to the enigmatic Mir Mehmoud.

On occasion, Sidra would encounter a young doctor named Haroon Qureshi. A bond formed between them, and Sidra found herself drawn to his kindness and charm. Their stolen moments together brought a semblance of happiness to her otherwise bleak existence.

They strolled together in the mansion's garden, their shadows cast upon the grass as they talked. Sidra, longing for the warmth of family, asked if he was the youngest in his family. He confirmed, and she playfully noted, "The youngest talk a lot, they are pampered." Her wistful tone spoke volumes about her own yearning for the love she had left behind.

"Are you calling me spoilt?" He asked while maintaining a straight face.

"No I am calling you loved, it's easy to love the youngest ones, isn't it?" She asked in a teasing voice.

"Nikkah padogey mere saath?" It was a question that would change the course of their lives.

Haroon, deeply moved by Sidra's sincerity and captivated by her charisma, leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers, agreeing to marry her. As they made this pact, Sidra's heart danced with joy, and she eagerly penned a letter to her mother, sharing the news of her impending union.

However, their happiness was short-lived. Haroon's duties called him back to his village due to a land dispute, and his aging mother's failing health required his immediate attention. On their last meeting before his departure, Sidra handed him an envelope, its contents heavy with money.

Perplexed by its origins, Haroon inquired, and Sidra revealed that she had sold her cherished jewelry, the very items she had been saving for their marriage. Her sacrifice was a testament to her love for him and her concern for his mother's well-being.

Haroon, touched by her selflessness, attempted to return the money, but Sidra insisted, "Your mother needs this, and Doctor, you are marrying me. I know you wouldn't need anything from me. If you want, you can return this to me when we get married." He reluctantly accepted the money and left for his village, leaving Sidra behind, her heart heavy with the uncertainty of their future.

Rano's frail voice quivered as she concluded her story, " Sidra loved Haroon deeply, and she made a great sacrifice for his family. But fate had other plans for her."

Abraar listened in shock and disbelief, his mind racing to comprehend the revelations that had unfolded. Sidra's tragic tale had left a profound impact on him, and he couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay hidden within the walls of the Mir mansion.

As Rano's breathing grew shallower, Abraar couldn't contain his questions any longer. "Rano, what happened to Sidra? Where is she now?"

Rano's fading voice barely reached his ears as she whispered, "Sidra... disappeared."

As Rano's voice trembled with emotion, she continued to unveil the haunting truth of the past, revealing the harrowing tale of Sidra, Dr. Haroon, and the birth of Miraal.

"A month passed, and somehow she disappeared," Rano began, her eyes distant as she delved back into those painful memories. "I tried to sneak into Mir Mehmoud's quarters one night, and there I found her. Her clothes were torn, and when she saw me, she started crying."

Young Rano had been in shock and felt helpless in the face of Sidra's suffering. She had no idea how to help her friend, but that night, she made a fateful decision to assist Sidra in escaping from the clutches of the Mir mansion.

Sidra, though traumatized and unable to speak of her ordeal, had managed to convey to Rano that she intended to go to her mother's house. However, when she reached her mother and her pregnancy became evident, her mother questioned the circumstances of her condition. She asked Sidra if the child was Haroon's, but Sidra remained silent, her heart heavy with the unspoken truth.

Desperate for answers, Sidra's mother had reached out to Dr. Haroon Qureshi. When he arrived and saw Sidra, she broke down, finally finding the strength to confide in him about the horrors she had endured. She revealed everything, leaving Haroon in disbelief and heartache.

Sidra's mother, driven by a mother's love and a sense of justice, forced Haroon and Sidra to marry. Haroon, despite the grim circumstances, married Sidra out of love and responsibility.

However, the trauma had taken its toll on Sidra. She struggled with depression, finding solace only in her garden where she planted rose bushes. She would sit for hours, gently caressing her baby bump, knowing the darkness that had marred her past.

Saira was born into this complicated world, where her parent's love was overshadowed by the haunting memories that refused to fade. A month after Saira's birth, a letter reached Sidra. Her mother was gravely ill, and Sidra left with her infant daughter to visit her.

Tragically, Sidra was kidnapped by Mir Mehmoud's men during this trip. Mir Mehmoud, upon seeing Saira, recognized the child's striking resemblance to him—same eyes, same hair color. He gave her his name, and Sidra was forced to become his mistress once again.

In the darkness of the Saira Mahal, Sidra endured further abuse and punishment for her past escape. Rano had witnessed Sidra's gradual decline, her spirit crumbling as the horrors continued.

Mir Mehmoud's crimes had remained concealed until the fateful day when chaos erupted. The villagers had mobilized in search of him, and he had managed to evade capture, hiding himself away.

Terrified for her daughter's life, Sidra had implored Rano to take Saira to safety. Rano had done just that, bringing the young child to the Khan family, who had promised to protect her.

Rano recounted a chilling memory as she spoke further, her voice filled with sorrow. "It was a normal day, and I was looking after the two of you. You were four, Abraar, and Miraal was one. You were playing when your mother, Muneeba Khan, rushed in and asked you, 'Abraar, let's play hide and seek. Hide somewhere and take Miraal with you soon.'"

Abraar's heart clenched as he remembered the day, the innocence of youth shattered by the tragic events that followed.

"She explained to me that Mir Mehmoud had escaped and was inside the house somewhere," Rano continued. "I hid you and Miraal inside the cupboard and asked you not to speak. Your mother went downstairs to confront Mir Mehmoud, who was going crazy, demanding his daughter. Muneeba denied him, so he dragged her upstairs and into your room, and there he shot her."

The memory of that horrifying moment flooded back to Abraar, vivid and painful. He recalled being hidden in the cupboard with Miraal, watching as his mother fell to the floor in a pool of her own blood. She hadn died the next day, the traumatic events had left scars that would haunt him forever.

When Rano paused, Abraar could no longer contain his overwhelming curiosity. "What happened to Miraal's mother?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

Rano let out a heavy sigh, tears glistening in her eyes. "She was killed by the villagers," she confessed, her voice filled with sorrow and regret. "I thought Saira had died too. I thought your parents had broken their promise."

A profound weight seemed to lift from Rano's shoulders as she unburdened herself with this long-held secret, finally sharing the truth with Abraar.

"Abraar, my son," Rano continued, her voice choked with emotion, "Miraal is a victim too. Her mother was a victim. Please protect her. Sidra's essence lives on in Miraal. Your mother, Muneeba Khan, wanted you to take care of her, and Mukhtar Khan wanted you to protect her."

Abraar felt a sense of déjà vu wash over him. It was reminiscent of a few years ago when his father had lain on his deathbed, attempting to convey his final wish. Mukhtar Khan had never managed to reveal that wish before passing away.

These revelations stirred profound emotions within Abraar. He realized the weight of the responsibility that rested on his shoulders, the promise that had been made to protect Miraal, and the truth of her tragic past.

"That's why they betrothed you to her," Rano explained, her voice heavy with meaning, "so that if the Mir family ever returned, only you could protect her."

Abraar was overwhelmed with a profound sense of guilt and remorse. He had failed in his duty to protect Miraal, and he couldn't escape the haunting truth that had now come to light.