This chapter is dedicated to @kaNisar because if there is one chapter she would never want me to dedicate to her... it is this. (also because she can be a nice sister sometimes and is always the first one to read my chapters and proofread them)

Chapter Twenty-nine

The beep stretched on for far too long. It was like the annoying screech of a car on a morning when you're already distressed. The sort that makes you want to turn around and shout at the driver to watch where he was going.

Zahid paced the room, his phone pressed to his ear. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

He was not sure why he was in such a hurry. Perhaps it was because he had so many questions for Harris. Questions of why Harris had done this.

Was it because he needed money? Zahid doubted that. Harris came from a well-off family and their friendship was one where they did not hesitate sharing their financial struggles and asking each other for help.

The second reason he could think of was even more disturbing than the first and it came to him in the form of a question Zahid had asked himself a few weeks ago.

How come Raza had only threatened him once? How come he had taken no serious action to stop Zahid?

And the answer that now came to him chilled him to the bones. Why would Raza threaten him if he already had something to ensure that he would win the case? And why would Harris provide Raza with wrong information if not to protect-

"Assalamualaikum?"

Zahid froze, Harris' voice snapping him out of his thoughts. "Where are you?"

"On my way back. Why?"

It was taking every bit of Zahid's strength to keep his voice calm. "What the hell have you been up to, Harris?" he hissed, his voice low.

"What have I been-" Harris cut off, perhaps connecting the dots. When he spoke again, his voice was low and hesitant. "What are you talking about?"

Zahid squeezed his eyes shut. "The emails, Harris. The wrong information. What have you been doing behind my back? Accepting money as well-"

"You found out," Harris cut him off, his voice strangely calm; as if he had expected this to happen sooner or later. "Listen, Zahid. I am on my way back. Let's talk once I am there."

Zahid pursed his lips but did not argue. "Faaris is out of jail," he said instead, the apprehension clear in his voice.

"I know."

"Wrong information and taking money from them, they're not going to let this slide- dammit, Harris, why?"

There was silence from the other side for a few seconds.

"They would have targeted you-"

Zahid could have thrown his phone across the room. That's how frustrated he was.

"To protect me? Are you some sort of a bloody hero? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Harris was silent for a bit, but when he spoke again, his voice was timid. "You sound angry-"

"No sh*t, Harris!"

"-and scary," Harris muttered, as if to himself but intended for Zahid to hear. Before Zahid could respond, Harris continued. "Okay, how about this, I am on my way back, and you can shout at me all you want once I'm in the office, alright? There's something important I need to tell you as well."

"Something you need to tell me-"

"Later."

Zahid, who had started pacing the office again, ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep still. While there were a lot of things that he wanted to say, Zahid figured that he could wait a few minutes.

Taking his silence as assent, Harris let out a sigh of relief, "Wonderful." He was about to cut the call, before, as if remembering something, he spoke again, "Oh, and Zahid? Drink a glass of cold water. It will help you cool down-"

"Harris-"

Zahid heard Harris laugh from the other end, before he hung up, leaving Zahid in his flustered state.

How Harris could laugh at a moment like this, while Zahid was struggling against the dread that settled within him, completely escaped him.

What Harris had done was no prank. He had pretended to fall into Faaris' bribery and had been giving off wrong information to distract Raza's men from causing any harm to Zahid or his family. That in itself was bad enough, but Harris had been taking the money as well.

All of it for Zahid's protection. Dammit. Zahid's clenched fists made contact with the table. He remembered telling Harris about the threats, but more so, he blamed himself for not paying enough attention to Harris and the absolute idiot that he was.

Zahid knew how these politicians worked. He knew of their ego and of how they could not bear someone outsmarting them like this. He knew the power these politicians had, and worse, their belief that no worldly power would ever be able to cause them any harm.

He knew all of this, and he also knew that Faaris had recently been released from jail. The fear that gripped him now chilled him to the bones and Zahid found himself muttering dua'as for Harris' protection under his breath.

It was only when he heard Harris pull into the driveway that Zahid's nerves eased slightly. He let out a sigh of relief, making his way outside.

Harris was about to open the car door when his eyes fell on Zahid, standing at the entrance of the office, his arms crossed and his jaw ticking. "Oops," he muttered under his breath, gulping. Slowing his movement slightly and uttering all sorts of prayers for Harris could see the anger radiate off Zahid, he opened the car door.

"I take back what I said," Harris said, as he stepped out, closing the door behind him. "I'll come inside only if you promise that you won't kill me."

Zahid's expression did not alter, but his eyebrow twitched slightly.

When Zahid refused to answer, Harris paled, muttering incoherently under his breath. He pocketed his car key, finally moving towards the entrance.

"Okay, before we get to the scolding part, there is something I need to tell you-"

BANG!

A deafening crack of thunder filled the air. The whole world stilled for a few seconds. Zahid's heart lurched, and when his senses returned to him, two things happened simultaneously.

A black car drove by, someone pulling in the gun that had been stuck out of the window and Harris fell to the ground.

~~~

"Amal khala! Amal khala!"

Amal snapped out of her chain of thoughts. She raised her head, taking a second or two to adjust to her surroundings. Maryam stood in front of her, her drawing held out for Amal to see.

Amal slowly reached for the drawing, her gaze softening. Maryam's childish drawing showed two houses next to each other. In front of them, she had made stick figures of Hafsa, Walid, and herself, next to which were two stick figures which Amal recognized as Zahid and herself.

Her lips curving into a smile, Amal raised her head to meet Maryam's eager gaze. "I love it! Is it for me?"

Maryam nodded feverishly and Amal felt touched to the core. "Aww. Jazakillah, habibti. This is going right on the fridge now," she winked at Maryam, and the seven-year-old, pleased with her work, ran off again to work on a second drawing.

Amal had only just put the drawing on the table, a sigh escaping her lips as she leaned back on the seat again when Hafsa appeared, two mugs in her hands.

"Maryam made that?" she smiled, taking a seat next to Amal and handing her one of the mugs which Amal gratefully accepted.

Hafsa observed the drawing, a light chuckle escaping her lips. "She is quite fond of you," she said, pulling her legs up and taking a sip of the drink. When Amal did not reply, Hafsa glanced at her friend, her eyebrows drawing together.

Amal seemed lost in her thoughts, her forehead creased. "Everything alright?" Hafsa asked and Amal raised her head.

For a while, she did not say anything, letting her thoughts gather into words. "I just-" she leaned forward, "I just want this to end, Hafsa. One minute something good happens and the next-" she shook her head, "I do not have a good feeling about this."

Hafsa took her time to respond, her thoughtful gaze set on her tea. "It isn't easy, I understand that, but Amal, standing up against the world can never be easy, can it?"

Amal did not respond. If she were to be honest, the recent events had wavered her faith. While she had started off with a firm heart, determined to stand strong with her husband against all bent on making them fail, this battle against injustice seemed endless. Amal watched as Zahid took one step forward and then two steps back. With every passing day, she watched his health deteriorate and the firmness in his actions waver.

A soldier can go to battle, but when he returns every time with the weight of defeat upon his shoulders, his will can not remain as firm. It surprised Amal, how Zahid still went on... as if he was a man in the middle of the ocean, an anchor holding him down but he still continued swimming, refusing to give up... while she, only an observer of this battle, felt her will waver and flicker.

She hated herself for it. For being so weak and giving in to the voice of her fears, and yet, her heart grew restless ever so often and Amal would find herself praying helplessly for things to end in Zahid's favor.

"I- what if Raza wins-"

"He has already lost," Hafsa cut her off. Amal's head snapped towards Hafsa who was staring at Amal, her gaze intense. "The moment your husband decided to stand against Raza against every odd, Amal, against the very injustice our society is built upon, Raza lost. Do you even have any idea of the strength this gives the other victims?"

Hafsa was a victim herself. Her eyes moist, she continued, and Amal noticed the slight tremor in her voice. "To people who have given up on getting any justice in this world, can you imagine what they feel when they see someone fighting so hard so they would get justice? Amal, how can Zahid lose this fight when so many people are praying for him?"

Amal took in the sincerity in Hafsa's voice, the intensity of her emotions, and in her mind, she saw every victim of this society's injustice mirroring the same ardor. She saw, then, her husband, swimming against the waves, and the light of faith kindled in her heart again.

Amal realized that while she would remain backstage, she was the one next to Zahid in his fight, and could not afford to let her faith waver even in the slightest. He needed her-

Amal's phone interrupted her chain of thoughts and she hastened to answer it, the name on her screen lighting up her face.

"Assalamualaikum! I came over to Hafsa's for a bit; are you back yet?"

Zahid did not reply and if it had not been for his ragged breathing which Amal heard, she would have assumed that the call had been cut. "Zahid?" she said again.

"I am at the hospital."

Amal's heart dropped. Her eyes widened and her grip on the phone loosened. The hospital. Before she could gather the strength to speak, Zahid beat her to it.

"It's Harris."

~~~

Zahid was a mess.

His hair was disheveled and the bloodstains on his clothes were beginning to dry. The hospital waiting room outside the operation theatre was completely empty except for one couple who would have labeled Zahid a madman had they not seen the way he had come in with his friend.

Now, they could only look at him with pity and sympathy, but Zahid did not notice them once. One moment he would sit down and the very next, he would start pacing the hallway, unable to stay still.

His hands were washed now, but every time Zahid would look down at them, he would see the blood. Images of how he had applied pressure to Harris' wound would flash in his mind, and his heart would clench ever so tightly.

Save Harris, Ya Allah. Let him live. Please, save him.

The same prayer, again and again, repeated in his head, and once the sudden exhaustion forced him to sit down again, Zahid's hands clasped together, the rush of emotions too much for him to bear.

In a state of sudden helplessness, his brain took over, and like a film that had suddenly changed genres, his memories with Harris flashed in his mind.

Zahid was nineteen when he had first met Harris.

Zahid was a scholarship student who repeated clothes more often than anyone and in both, his poverty and his fondness of isolation, he was considered an outcast.

Harris, on the other hand, was not only from a well off family but was friends with almost everyone in the class. To him, his friendship with Zahid started from 'ah, same group', to, 'you're clever, help me with homework?' and then eventually, 'I am just going to tag along with you whether you like it or not.'

To Zahid, who was far quieter back in those days, his acquaintance with Harris went something like: 'I never really paid attention to you, but would you stop following me around?' to him getting used to Harris' presence and eventually realizing that he did not mind it too much.

After graduation, they had met again as interns at the same law firm, and while Harris was much the same, with his playfulness and naivety, Zahid was more confident and mature enough not to remain inside his own bubble all the time.

Their friendship was one that required no special efforts, but to this day, there was one memory that played in Zahid's mind more vividly than all the rest.

It was in their office cafeteria. Zahid had recently revealed to his seniors that he was going to open his own law firm. Nearly everyone advised him against it but Zahid had studied law with only one dream in mind and he remained firm on his decision.

"I have decided," Harris had said to him that day, mixing the third sugar packet in his tea. "I'll work with you."

Zahid was taken aback. "I know we're friends and all, but I am starting a firm from scratch. I won't be able to pay you in the beginning and I doubt we'll get any clients-"

"Oh, I just use my pay as my pocket money. I'll survive on *ghar ka khana for a few months," Harris cut him off. Zahid did not look convinced yet and noticing the frown on his face, Harris leaned forward.

"The thing is, Zahid. I feel like you're going to do something great one day and I want to be a part of it."

The words now hit Zahid in a way they never had before. They tightened his insides, his hands clenched and his nails dug into his skin.

Harris could not die.

Zahid had not scolded Harris yet. He had not shouted at him for trying to be a hero and striking that deal with Faaris. He had not scolded him for trying to protect Zahid and putting his own life at stake. He had not punched him yet, a punch he knew Harris would dodge, trying to calm Zahid down. He had not hugged his friend yet, taking Harris by surprise. He had not thanked him yet, a thankyou in a language of 'you're an idiot' and 'I hate you so much.'

Zahid had not told him yet that he had always considered him a brother. That he was the first person besides his family who Zahid had told about his parents' murder. That when Harris had stood by him that night, listening to Zahid's tale without any interruption, it had been easier for Zahid to narrate it and when Harris had said, "Let's win this fight against injustice, Zahid, or die trying," Zahid had felt a strength within him that rose him from the ashes and back to the flames.

Harris could not die because he had a life ahead of him. He was yet to get married, have kids, and become the greatest father the world had ever seen. He was yet to run away from home one last time or give in to his mother's insistence on his marriage to his cousin.

Harris could not die. He could not die. He could not-

Zahid felt someone place a hand on his shoulder. He did not need to meet her worried gaze to recognize her.

He did not move, his face devoid of any emotions. She wrapped her arms around him and the sudden closeness triggered something in Zahid. All the helplessness, fear, anger, and guilt crashed over him and he broke down, sobs racking his body.

Amal held him, her heart shattering into a million pieces.

Inside, the doctors operated on a man who had been shot.

The world watched, with pity, as another name was added to the list of Raza's victims, and Harris' words echoed into the silence.

I feel like you're going to do something great one day and I want to be a part of it. 

Assalamualaykum. 

Ahem. *clears throat* I- please don't kill me. Life is weird, and I am weirder but I love you guys so let's just...not kill anybody? *coughs nervously* 

No, I do not think I should write a long author's note on how much I love Harris and how difficult it was for me to write this chapter, but life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and reality is quite harsh... which I think I just did. 

I should run now. 

Harris' chatacter aesthetic: