It had been two weeks since Lahar entered Jhalak's room. She tried to forget him, but his sweet words kept etching her thoughts, and now, she was scarred.

How could she have been so stupid to blindly believe a stranger?

She tried to stop thinking about him, but every time a man thrust themselves inside of her, Lahar's words echoed continuously in her head.

Pari, I can help you.

I'm getting you out of here tomorrow. I promise.

I promise.

He promised.

Tonight, she had a new client. He seemed younger than twenty-five, with greasy black hair, a strange swirly tattoo over his right bosom, and a thick cigar in his mouth.

He talked too much, and as usual, she was expected to pay attention. It was difficult to focus when it was nearly three in the morning, but she tried her best. He rambled on about how his politician father was going to send him off to the U.K. for medical school next week, but he wanted to experience a prostitute before he left.

On my bucket list, is what he had said.

For ten minutes, he decided to shut up and forced himself into her.

Then, he went back to talking.

He shifted the topic to Jhalak and degraded her, complaining about how expensive she was and how she must have had everyone in the whole city inside of her. Draping her saree loosely around her, she had no choice but to listen quietly.

The client crawled back on the bed, preparing himself for round two, when the battered door flew open and five police officers scurried inside - three of them women.

The blood in Jhalak's veins froze and she did not know why. She had nothing to lose, but she could not help but feel uncomfortable under the scrutinizing eyes of the police.

The two male officers grabbed the client and one of the female officers stared at her directly.

"Jhalak, you're coming with us."

* * *

Lahar was really bad at organizing his thoughts. His brain was scattered with ideas, so much that they often came off as broken and he could be easily misinterpreted.

He knew he should not have promised Pari that he would come tomorrow because that was far too soon. The word slipped out of him before he could control himself, and he did not have the heart to tell her otherwise after he had witnessed the sprinkle of hope in her eyes.

He was surprised at how simple it was to get Pari to tell her life story to him. It matched up perfectly with the information he had gotten about her prior to their meeting, which made things much easier.

He had been much too excited about his plan that he should have waited until he was back in his apartment to call up his father, the influential police commissioner, who would be interested in Pari's story. Soon after that, he rang up the director of a women's shelter, who would also help him out with his idea.

Luckily, Roshan was immensely gullible and also fell for his plan.

Poor guy.

Roshan's chest must have swelled with pride, believing he had dragged Lahar into a brothel against his will.

Little did he know that it was Lahar himself would had created the Halkat Jawaani flyers and posted them along the hallways of their apartment building, knowing very well that it would peak Roshan's interest as a site for his bachelor's party.

Little did he know that Lahar had used up whatever was left in his bank account to bribe the bartender at the brothel to make sure that Roshan was to be strapped to a chair and was only permitted to drink and do nothing else. He'd be damned for life if Roshan ended up cheating on Manvi just weeks before the wedding.

As the two had strolled out of the brothel, Lahar had been pleased to know that his friend had only reeked of rum, and not sex.

In short, Lahar believed he was a genius who was worthy of a Nobel Prize and he knew it would be an insult to all geniuses if he did not acknowledge the fact himself.

It had now been just about two weeks since he had met Pari, and while guilt was eating him from the inside out, he knew he had to wait longer than tomorrow because police raids just simply do not happen overnight.

* * *

At least the officers had given Jhalak enough time to dress properly before they had taken her away.

Too many things happened at once, and she nearly fainted because of it. Two female officers held her arms gently as they went down the hallways, and she noticed that her fellow prostitutes were also being taken away by officers.

Actually, there seemed to be more police officers in the building than clients and prostitutes combined.

People were being thrown around from all angles. Some people were handcuffed, and others were not. They screamed and protested, but nobody really knew what was going on.

In a matter of minutes, Jhalak, and the other prostitutes were told to go sit inside a large van and to sleep peacefully for a while until they reached the shelter for women.

* * *

It was nearing dawn when the van had arrived at the driveway of the women's shelter. Jhalak craned her neck to observe the large building. It looked more like a mansion than a standard shelter, with rose bushes lining the front yard and a small fountain in the center. A chilly morning came upon them and staff members instantly handed each woman a woolen blanket as they emerged from the vehicle.

The women huddled together closely to keep warm as they were guided to a spacious day room, where there was a grand piano on one side, bookshelves that spanned across two walls, and a number of sofas and tables.

The staff members requested the women to be seated until further direction, and as Jhalak grabbed a seat, one of the staff women stood in front of her.

"Are you Jhalak?"

She nodded with caution.

"Please follow me."

Jhalak obeyed, believing that things could not get any worse than what she had already experienced. The staff woman led Jhalak out of the day room and they strolled down a few corridors until they stopped in front of what appeared to be an open inner courtyard with stone benches, flowers, and shrubs.

"Please sit. Someone will see you shortly." Then, the staff woman left.

Having sat in a crowded van for so long, Jhalak decided to walk around the little garden and ran her fingers through the healthy shrubs.

She could not remember the last time she breathed fresh air.

This was such a drastic change from the mucky, sweaty stench that she was used to.

"Pari."

Only one person called her by that name.

Jhalak spun around with such haste that she plopped on the stone bench behind her. "You lied to me."

"I know, Pari," Lahar admitted with humility, bowing his head before her. "It wasn't on purpose. I still kept the rest of my promise. Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

"I have people raping me every day and you think I will have a problem if you sit next to me?"

Lahar was taken aback by her abrupt statement. "That won't happen anymore, and you have every right to feel comfortable."

"You can sit."

She did not say anything more, and Lahar knew she would not speak until he explained himself. He owed her that much.

"I know you must have wondered where the hell I've been and why I took so long. But before I get into that, I think it's only fair that I tell you about myself." Lahar looked at Jhalak to see if she showed any signs of interest, which she did not, but as usual, she was still listening.

"I'm doing my post-graduate studies in social work, where I focus on the survivors and prevention of sex trafficking and forced prostitution. My program requires us to intern, or work, at related organizations and currently, I intern here. I typically research a hot spot for sex trafficking and get to know the place and the people before I move on with the next step, which includes going undercover if I need to."

Jhalak remained still and quiet, yet attentive.

"My father is a police commissioner and so it is easy for me to work hand-in-hand with the police on these cases. What you just experienced earlier today is a police raid. I had to gather enough evidence and testimonies before officially getting the police involved and that's why it took me nearly two weeks to get you out of there. Initially, I only planned to get you out on my own, but then I thought about what you had told me. You asked if I would be able to save the others. I figured that if I transformed this plan into a formal operation with police involvement, then all of you would be free. And so here you are."

"What happens next?"

Though it was not what he had hoped to have come out of her, Lahar was mildly relieved that Jhalak decided to say something. "This is where you finally get to be yourself. This shelter helps survivors find purpose and love in their lives. Psychological counselling is offered, as well as medical check-ups for admissions. My mother is a gynecologist and she oversees the medical examinations. Some women arrive with a lot of psychological and medical trauma and we make sure they're given help immediately.

"On another note, they have professional teachers who teach math, English, science, history, and you can later go to mainstream schools based on your learning level. You can learn music, art, or photography. You can learn how to type, how to sew, how to drive, and so much more. You can be trained for jobs, you can work in a beauty salon or in sales, or somewhere else. From there, you can financially and professionally work your way up. If and when you feel independent enough to live on your own or with a partner, you may leave if you wish. You can stay for as long or as little as you like."

Jhalak merely nodded. She focused on an ant that crawled around her foot.

Lahar leaned back and gazed at the rising sun above them. He expected Jhalak to be somewhat happy after he said all of that, but there was no change in her expression. He had one more chance to change that, though.

"It's crazy how some things happen, and you're not sure if it's just a coincidence or due to some higher power."

"Hmm."

"You know," Lahar dragged out slowly. "The founder of this shelter is an abuse survivor herself."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I began interning here two months ago. She had assigned a brothel to me and requested that I begin my work there. So, I did some research, gathered news articles, documentaries and stuff."

"I see."

"After I got to know her a bit better, I asked her about her story. She had been married off pretty young and her husband abused her so much, even during her pregnancies. Those experiences caused her to become unable to give birth naturally. She eventually divorced him and struggled on her own, working random jobs at random shifts just to support herself. She's now very much financially independent, but this didn't happen overnight. It took over a decade for her to gather enough savings to begin this shelter so that other women would be able to seek refuge in a safe haven. Local news agencies reported her story and she received funding from generous people - enough to expand the shelter and to provide the services that it does."

"That's nice."

"It is." Lahar gave Jhalak a very knowing smile. "People often ask her how she came up with the name of the shelter. It named in honor of her niece - who battled sexual abuse nearly all throughout her life and who she loves so much."

"Oh." Jhalak felt bad that she kept a neutral expression the entire time while Lahar spoke enthusiastically, and finally looked up at him. "What's the name of this shelter?"

"Pariza House Shelter for Women."

Lahar could not help but break out into a growing smile after watching the sudden myriad of expressions on Jhalak's face.

Jhalak's heart pounded with anticipation and shock as she rewound all of Lahar's words in her head.

Tell me about your aunt.

She seems to be the only person who cared for you.

Have you ever tried to search for her?

There are shelters out there that provide aid for such women.

"You guessed right, Pari," Lahar told her softly. "This shelter is named after you." He raised his eyebrows, signaling Jhalak to look behind her.

And there she was.

A strong, mature woman with fierce eyes and a kind face, with streaks of gray hair entwined in a bun, and ample wrinkles lining her face, donning a faded purple saree.

She looked so different than how Jhalak had remembered her to be, but Jhalak could recognize that face in a heartbeat.

Aaira held out her arms for her niece and Jhalak ran towards her, gripping each other in a tight, tearful embrace.

Lahar smiled, listening as their cries echoed within the courtyard. Aaira and Jhalak had many stories to tell, but their tears did the job. Each tear represented the grief, the loneliness, the struggle, and the pain they both had felt in the past decade.

People often say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but actually, tears are worth a whole lifetime of words. There was no doubt. It was just something you just had to experience to know.

At this point, Jhalak's back was facing Lahar, and so he walked over to the opposite side to be face to face with her.

She did not know how to thank him. She could not string together enough words for him to understand exactly how she felt. But that was okay.

The tears did the job. He knew that.

With her arms still wrapped around her aunt, she gave Lahar a smile with teary eyes that glistened under the sun, and that said it all.

For the first time in a long time, Pari was surrounded with sheer bliss.

- - -

A/N: This is the end! :O I'm saving my lengthier thank you for my Final Note, but I just wanted to say thank YOU to everyone who has read, voted, commented, and supported this story :) Please also leave your thoughts about this last part, the story as a whole, or whatever you'd like to comment :)) Take care & please take a peek at the Final Note! :)) x