Chapter Thirty-one

Once again, he stood outside Shamoor's house.

His heart paced at an abnormal rate and his hands were clenched by his sides. This was the third time Zahid was here, and this time, he was not going to return at loss.

When Shamoor opened the door, Zahid had already thought out five different ways the conversation could go.

He straightened up, about to begin but one look at him and a groan escaped Shamoor's lips. "How many times do I need to tell you and that friend of yours that I am not going to stand as a witness?"

Zahid's heart clenched. Harris had visited this place.

"I get what you're doing is important, but I've offered you the help I could, and that is all I can do for you-"

"Then why did you put that video up?" Zahid's voice was calm, his expression composed.

Shamoor's eyes widened, shock plastered on his face. He paled, suddenly at loss for words. Taking his chance, Zahid stepped forward. "You wanted to leave Raza's work along with Syed. You helped us by leading us to Qammar, and you put that video up. All that's left is for you to declare your stance by standing as a witness-"

"No." Shamoor had managed to regain himself, and his jaw locked. "You think it will all be over once Raza gets caught? That he will go to jail and everyone who raised their voice against him would be safe-"

"Qammar did it. He stood as a witness against Raza and he is perfectly safe Alhamdulillah-"

"He is hiding in Sialkot," Shamoor cut him off, scoffing lightly, "You call that safe? Qammar can hide because he is not as closely associated with Raza but Raza knows everything about me. To get Raza punished for Syed's murder, you want me and my family to lose their lives as well?"

Shamoor shook his head in disbelief, stepping back. Before he could close the door, however, Zahid placed a hand on it. "This is not just about Syed anymore!" There was a slight tremor in his voice, and it was taking him great strength to keep his voice low. "Harris was shot. Raza murdered him. Can you live with yourself knowing that you could do something about a man as vile as Raza but you refused to do so? That you'd have a hand in the hundreds of men he could possibly kill in the future?"

Once again, Shamoor's eyes widened. "Harris is dead?" he repeated, the disbelief evident in his voice. For a couple of seconds, he remained frozen, his stance stiff. Then, the door slowly opened. "Come in."

Shamoor limped inside and with a sharp intake of breath, Zahid followed, closing the door behind him.

~~~

"He would wait outside for hours, begging me, on occasions, to stand as a witness."

Zahid's knuckles turned white, his gaze fixed on the untouched cup of tea in front of him. This was the first time he was hearing about everything Harris had done, his endless efforts to help Zahid win the case.

All that Harris had kept secret.

"I am very sorry to hear about his death," Shamoor said, after a pause, and his eyes mirrored the grief that Zahid's eyes held... for had he not lost his friend, Syed, to murder as well?

Zahid wasn't here to hear Shamoor's condolences, but he contained himself, his gaze flitting back to Shamoor.

There was only one question in his expression. Will you do it?

Shamoor understood. He could relate to Zahid's loss, and yet, he lowered his gaze, almost shamefully.

"My family is all that I have, Zahid. I am a weak man. This- this rebellion does not come easy to me."

Zahid was silent for a bit. He measured his words carefully, knowing well enough that this was the only chance he had, and he wasn't going to let it go.

"Rebellion does not come easy to anyone, sir." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes glinting."And nobody is weak or strong by nature. We choose what we are."

Zahid noticed something flash across Shamoor's expression. One chance. This was all he had.

"You say Raza has information about your relatives as well. You can send your family to a hotel to ensure safety and I will pay for the expenses. If needed, I can hire a security guard for you as well, but please-" Zahid clasped his hands together, and the helpless need for Shamoor's acceptance flickered on his face. "Please. This man needs to pay for his crimes. Enough people have suffered at his hand and we simply cannot let the number increase."

As silence ensued in the room, Zahid felt the nervousness creep into him and he searched Shamoor's face for a reaction. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the drawing-room seemed to have slowed down, till that was all that could be heard. Zahid's clammy hands were grasped together, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

Please say you'll do it. Please say-

Shamoor raised his head after what seemed like hours. There was a fire in his eyes, the fire of a man who had given away to his fears every time but finally decided to stand up against them. The fire that kindles when you grip only to the voice of your soul and what it commands you to do.

"I'll do it."

~~~

The hospital is crowded. Nurses and patients rush to and fro, and the humidity in the air is like a blanket of grief over those who wait helplessly for news of their loved ones.

You do not want to be in a hospital waiting to hear the news of someone who has been shot.

Because when the news is bad, you find that you cannot live with the fact that such-and-such could have lived to a hundred had a man not raised his gun and shot him.

When you murder someone, you do not just murder that person. You murder the dreams and the hopes of the family members who could not ever have fathomed that someone so dear to them could ever be killed.

When you murder someone, you kill the innocence in society. Like a label that can never be taken off, all those associated with the victim get scarred for life.

You ask the victims what they want and they give only one response. Justice. They want the murderer to pay for his deed, but even as they say it, their words fall heavy and the world scoffs loudly.

Justice?

A year ago, I asked if Justice was a word lost from our dictionaries.

Now... I know it is.

I have seen, with my very eyes, three families completely destroyed at the hands of a man who possesses all the power in the world i.e money and status.

With his green notes, he buys the policemen, the detectives, and those in the judiciary. With his status, he makes sure that he is not harmed.

At a point where all seems lost, where case after case, you suffer only disappointment because you cannot win against such a man... when the clouds of hate and evil overshadow the world and it seems best to silence your tongue for even with all that you're screaming, nobody listens.

I beg of you... please, do not mute yourself.

Whilst all you may be able to produce is a whisper, a small flutter of your lips, a sound that does not even reach your ears... I beg of you.

Please. Do not silent yourself.

Because every time you raise your voice, you print the word 'J U S T I C E' into your dictionary. Let it be with a bang or with a whisper, your voice is the soft dressing to the wounds of those that have suffered.

Then, you become that bird who carried water in its beak when Hazrat Ibrahim was burning in the fire.

This. This is my voice;

Shahid Raza is a murderer and I will not stay silent.

~~~

Was he to trust Shamoor? Was he to trust the man who had banged the door on his face countless times?

In all honesty, the answer was simple and clear; No.

And yet, did he even have a choice?

This was the part in the battle where you go all in. It's either win or lose, but all Zahid knew was that he was going to have to put everything at stake.

He did not trust Shamoor, but Zahid had full faith in Allah. And so, he prayed... constantly, helplessly, and with an aching heart.

"Ya Allah," he whispered, his hands raised to his Rabb. "I am doing this for Your sake and Your sake alone. Let me succeed, Ya Allah. Let Raza be brought to justice. I leave all of my affairs to You."

Zahid prayed, but he worked too. This time, he did not work on Syed's case. He picked up his laptop, grabbed the USB he had been handed a day ago, and got to work.

There was another report he needed to write... and this one, this one was going to be flawless.

In the morning, he awoke, with barely a few hours of sleep, but a spirit that knew no exhaustion.

The feeling of ominousness hung low in the house."They can't make it," Amal said to him at the breakfast table, wanting to put an end to the nervous silence, even though Zahid already knew what she was telling him.

Neither of their families could make it to Harris' funeral. Mrs. Ahmed had desired to catch the first Daewoo and come instantly, but aware of her deteriorating health, Zahid had told her not to, promising to bring her to Lahore himself.

Emaan had been taken sick and was admitted to the hospital, which made it impossible for Amal's family to come over instantly as well.

Zahid nodded slowly, staring down at the black coffee in his mug. "Let's go to Islamabad when all this is over," he said, his voice low, "I want to get out of here."

Amal understood his words all too well. She nodded, unable to say anything, even when she so badly wanted to. And so, she watched, as Zahid got ready and it was when he grabbed his briefcase, a second from leaving, that Amal grabbed his hand.

"Zahid-"

"I know." His tone was soft and he turned to meet her gaze, having noticed her ache to speak and what she wanted to say even when she was silent. "I have left everything to Allah. Whether we win or lose-" the ends of his lips tilted slightly, "It is our struggle that counts."

Amal looked into the eyes of the man who had seen his world break but pulled himself up from the ashes. She saw the pain, and the heartache in those broken eyes of his... but what she saw more clearly was the faith. It flickered and blazed- and hope, like oxygen, accompanied the fire.

"Go show them what you're made of," she whispered. "Fi Amanallah."

With these words, Zahid left, but before he went to the meeting, he had another stop to make.

~~~

His chest heaved up and down... the monitor showed his heartbeat. Oh, how easy for one to make the mistake that he was still alive.

Zahid watched from the doorway, his heart clenching painfully inside his chest as he willed himself to walk inside but failed.

He did not know how long he had been standing there when he heard the voice behind him.

"Harris talked a lot about you."

Zahid swiveled around. Harris' mother, Farhana, stood there, her gaze trailed on the floor. She looked pale and white, and her eyes had lost all color.

"He had this habit of clinging to the few people he was close to. No matter how childish he might have appeared, he was willing to do anything for those he loved," Farhana's voice broke and Zahid felt a lump come up to his throat.

"Before he met you, he did not take anything seriously. He was careless, had no dreams, nothing. Afterward... he was willing to give everything he had for what you did. He came to me once, a bit too serious for his usual self. 'Mama,' he said, 'I think this is my purpose.'"

Farhana raised her head, her eyes meeting Zahid's. "I am sorry for what I said to you that day. My son died raising his voice for the sake of Allah, fighting against this injustice." Something flashed across her eyes. "I pray that you succeed."

Zahid's head lowered, a sudden wave of emotions crashing over him.

"Thank you," Farhana said, the tremor distinguishable in her voice. "For giving him something that made him so happy."

He wanted to say something. He wanted to speak so badly, but the lump in his throat made that impossible. So he stood, his head lowered and his hands clenched by his sides.

"We are holding the funeral tomorrow," Farhana said, patting Zahid on the back. "You should say your goodbyes."

As Farhana walked away, Zahid found within himself the strength that he needed. He turned around, and with steps that were both hesitant and slow, he found himself making his way into the hospital room.

Harris was there. His head was resting against the pillow and his expression spoke only one thing. Peace. It was as if he was taking a nap and would wake up in a few minutes, but Zahid was not foolish enough to convince himself of that.

He felt his heart begin to race, his palms getting sweaty. Unable to move any closer, Zahid stood at the foot of the bed.

He was there to say goodbye and yet, he could say nothing, his clammy hands holding onto the edge of the bed till his knuckles had turned white and his gaze lowered.

He felt as if at any moment, Harris would sit up and laugh at Zahid's expression, telling him that this was all a prank. Oh, how badly he wanted that to happen... but Harris did not get up.

"You'll change the world someday, Zahid, and Wallahi, I feel so overwhelmed when I think about how I'll be a part of it as well."

Like a voice lost somewhere in the tunnel of his memories... an echo of a voice that rang in his ears till he felt almost as if he could hear Harris... how torturous and beautiful memories can be sometimes.

"You changed the world, Harris," Zahid whispered, his voice only audible to himself. He raised his head, and as he looked at the man before him, his glazed eyes gave in and a tear escaped his eyes." And Wallahi," the ends of his lips tilted upwards as he brushed away his tears with the back of his hand. "I feel so overwhelmed when I think about how I'll continue your legacy."

There was a tremor in his voice and despite the heaviness within his heart, the gentle blaze of faith and acceptance flickered in him. His vision blurry, Zahid peered once more at Harris' face... the contentment that glimmered within his expression.

"In Jannah, InshaAllah," he whispered, "Let's meet again."

~~~

He never knew he was capable of hating someone to this extent, but Raza had proved him wrong and Zahid found that he could not even look at the man before him without feeling the rage, his self-restraint threatening to give away.

Harris' murderer.

His best friend's murderer was right before his eyes but Zahid could not do anything, his gaze lowered and his hands clasped under the table so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.

There was a stillness in the meeting room that day, an air of tension that everyone read because they all knew: today could be the last day they were meeting like this.

In spite of Farhan's explanation on how the pieces of evidence and happenings of last week's meetings had been overlooked, and the vague hint that so far, Raza was getting away with things the way he planned, nothing of which came as anything new to Zahid, the discomfort was still there in the air and every few minutes, Farhan would glance at the seat next to Zahid's.

Had he overheard Samra Syed paying her condolences to Zahid before the meeting?

"We are focusing strictly," Farhan cleared his throat, "On the murder of Syed Manzoor."

Zahid frowned, noticing the hesitance in Farhan's eyes but he did not have time to focus too much on that as Farhan had turned towards him and Samra.

"Is there anything else you would like to add?"

Zahid did not reply right away. He noticed, from the corner of his eyes as Raza leaned back in his seat, pleased. This was another battle that he had won... or so he thought.

"We do!" Samra beat Zahid to it, and all eyes snapped towards the helpless woman. "We have another-"

As if on cue, the door to the office opened, and two men entered. One, a government official said something to Farhan but Zahid heard nothing- his eyes fixed on the second man.

He had come. Shamoor had come.

Zahid slowly got to his feet, and his eyes met Shamoor's. The light that once was no more than a flickering flame now blazed in Shamoor's eyes and Zahid felt his heart speed up.

"Shamoor?" Raza got to his feet as well. "What are you doing here? You should have waited outside-"

Raza cut off when Shamoor did not even glance at him, and instead, limped towards Farhan. Raza's face had turned red and he made to speak again but Shamoor beat him to it.

"I have been working with Shahid Raza for years, and I witnessed the murder of Syed Manzoor-"

Raza paled, attempting to step forward but Farhan raised a hand, stopping him.

"- I was there when Shahid Raza ordered us to get him from his house, and I was there when Faaris shot Syed on Raza's orders."

Raza was red in the face, cursing and trying to interrupt Shamoor but Shamoor's voice only grew louder.

"I was also the one who put that video up on social media, and I have another of the actual murder as well."

This was news to Zahid as well, and his eyes widened as Shamoor took out his device from his phone and handed it to Farhan, who seemed a bit lost at the sudden turn of events as well.

"IT'S FAKE!" Raza yelled, and while Zahid had never seen this video, the change of Farhan's expression as he watched the video was all he needed to see.

Farhan's expression solidified, as he handed Shamoor his device back, but Shamoor was not done yet. "I was a part of everything that happened and willingly accept whatever legal action would be taken against me."

As the police stormed in, arresting Shahid Raza on Farhan's orders and stopping him from plunging at Shamoor despite his attempts, Zahid could only watch. He watched as Raza cursed loudly, losing the decency he was well known for on television. "YOU'LL PAY!" Raza yelled, and as his eyes met Zahid's- Zahid felt no fear.

Flustered, Zahid could only watch as all of this happened. He felt suddenly overwhelmed, awe taking over him, because when you fight for something that badly- when you are willing to put everything on the line for something, and you end up getting it, even if the whole world believed that you would fail... it is not happiness that grips you first.

It is a sudden vulnerability... an awe, for you remember all the prayers you uttered into the stillness of the nights, the hands you raised up to your Rabb and the way you prayed- constantly, endlessly, even when all tide seemed against you, the way you raised your shaking hands to your Rabb.

And Allah listens. Oh, how Your Lord listens to your prayers, every whisper that escapes your lips, and even the prayers you utter in languages unspoken.

And when He gives... before all feelings of triumphant, you feel the gratefulness, love for Allah, and the conviction that no matter what the world says, Allah is always there for you... Your Rabb is always with you, and nothing is impossible for Him.

And before you smile, you whisper, "Alhamdulillah," over and over again, feeling these words are not enough for the emotions you want to convey.

Oh, how beautiful is Our Rabb, for He fulfills all promises: Do not lose hope, nor be sad. You shall surely be victorious if you are true in faith [3:139]

Assalamualaykum.

This took me forever to get up, but with a family function coming up and my college re-opening, I have been incredibly busy, and away from Wattpad. I hope this chapter made up for the wait.

One more chapter to go.

Jazakillah for your support!