11.

The next day dawned heavy with tension, the household's energy subdued as everyone waited for updates. The men had worked tirelessly through the night, chasing leads and trying to locate Ibrahim's hideout. Feras was at the center of it all, orchestrating every effort with ruthless efficiency. His reputation, his pride, and his family's honor were all at stake, and failure was not an option.

By mid-morning, a reliable tip came in, and Feras wasted no time. He grabbed his keys, his movements sharp and deliberate, his jaw set in steely determination.

"Ayan," he called, his voice firm as he stepped into the sitting room. Ayan, who was pacing by the window, immediately looked up.

"We've got a location," Feras said. "Get your bike. We're leaving now."

Ayan nodded, grabbing his leather jacket and helmet. "Are you sure this is solid?" he asked, his tone grim.

"It's solid enough," Feras replied, striding toward the door. "Let's move."

As Feras climbed into his sleek black BMW, Ayan revved up his motorcycle. The two vehicles roared out of the driveway, cutting through the tension-filled air as they sped toward the outskirts of the town. Feras had also called his men, instructing them to converge at the location. He wasn't taking any chances.

The road was long and winding, the BMW's engine purring as Feras drove with single-minded focus. Ayan kept pace on his motorcycle, his eyes scanning the surroundings as they neared their destination.

When they arrived at the old, abandoned warehouse, Feras pulled the car to a halt, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated structure. Ayan parked his bike a few meters away and removed his helmet, his jaw clenched tightly.

"They were here," Ayan said, nodding toward the faint tire tracks leading into the building.

Feras didn't respond. He stepped out of the car, his tall frame exuding an aura of authority and danger. His men arrived moments later, their presence solidifying the sense of imminent confrontation.

The group approached the warehouse cautiously, their movements swift and efficient. The heavy metal doors creaked as Feras pushed them open, revealing a dimly lit interior that reeked of dust and neglect.

Inside, they found chaos... scattered chairs, empty bottles, and the unmistakable signs of a hasty departure. But in the center of the room, tied to a chair, was Seher. Her veil was discarded, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Bruises marred her face, and the red imprints of a slap stood out starkly against her pale skin. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her makeup smudged and ruined.

Ayan rushed forward, his face a mask of fury. "Seher!" he called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. He crouched beside her, his hands working quickly to untie the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles.

Seher sobbed as she was freed, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion. "He... he left," she choked out. "He said... he said this was just the beginning."

Ayan's fists clenched at her words, his anger boiling over. "That coward," he growled, his voice thick with rage. "If I ever see him again—"

"Enough," Feras interrupted coldly, stepping forward. His gaze swept over Seher, taking in her disheveled state with an unreadable expression. "Get her up. We're leaving."

Ayan looked up at his older brother, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "That's all you have to say? She's been... look at her, Feras bhai! She's terrified, humiliated—"

"And she's alive," Feras cut in, his voice icy. "That's what matters. Now get her to the car."

Ayan glared at him but obeyed, helping Seher to her feet. She leaned heavily on him, her sobs muffled as she buried her face in her hands. Feras stood motionless, his piercing eyes scanning the room one last time before he turned and walked out.

The drive back was silent. Seher sat in the backseat of the BMW, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Ayan rode behind them on his motorcycle, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge. Feras's face remained impassive, his hands gripping the steering wheel with controlled precision.

When they reached the house, the family was already waiting in the living room, their faces etched with worry and tension. The sight of Seher sent a ripple of reactions through the group.

Ahmed's face twisted in disgust as he took in her bruised and disheveled appearance. "This is what your actions have brought upon us," he said sharply, his voice dripping with disappointment. "Do you have any idea what you've done to this family?"

Salman hung his head in shame, his hands clasped tightly together. "Seher..." he began, but his voice faltered. He couldn't find the words to address his daughter's actions, the humiliation she had brought upon them.

Chachi, however, burst into tears, her cries filling the room. "My daughter!" she wailed, covering her face with her hands. "How could this happen? How could he do this to her?"

"No one forced her into this," Ahmed snapped, his glare cutting through her sobs. "She made her choices, and now we're all paying the price."

Chachi turned her tear-streaked face toward Anam, her grief twisting into bitterness. "This is your fault," she accused, her voice trembling. "Ever since you came into this house, nothing but misfortune has followed. You and your cursed presence—"

"That's enough," Feras said sharply, his tone silencing everyone. He stepped forward, his gaze hard and unforgiving as he looked at his aunt. "If you want to assign blame, start with yourself. You raised her. You let this happen."

Chachi's sobs turned into quiet hiccups as she shrank under his piercing gaze. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of Feras's authority suffocating everyone.

Finally, Salman spoke, his voice low and heavy. "What happens now?"

Feras turned to his father, his expression unyielding. "Now, we handle this. Quietly. No one outside this house is to know what happened."

"And Seher?" Salman asked, glancing at his daughter, who was now slumped on the couch, her eyes vacant.

"She stays here," Feras said coldly. "Out of sight, out of the public eye. And she doesn't leave until I say so."

Chachi let out a muffled cry, but no one paid her any attention. Ahmed nodded, his expression grim but resigned. "Do whatever you need to," he said.

Without another word, Feras turned and left the room, his steps heavy as he ascended the stairs to his study. Ayan watched him go, a mixture of frustration and admiration flickering across his face.

Anam, who had been quietly observing everything from the corner, felt a pang of sadness. She couldn't reconcile the Feras she had always admired with the man who now seemed so cold, so distant. But as she looked around the room, at the devastation written on everyone's faces, she knew that this was the only way he knew how to protect them.

Even if it meant burying every ounce of compassion he had left.

.....

The following day, the household was cloaked in an uneasy silence. After the chaos of the past few days, Feras had immersed himself in work, retreating to his study and throwing himself into the tasks of managing the family business. It was his way of regaining control, of keeping the searing anger and frustration at bay. His sharp commands and relentless focus made it clear he wasn't in the mood for small talk or interruptions.

The rest of the family tried to settle into some semblance of normalcy. Ayan, Ayub, and Anam prepared to return to university, whilst Pari and Aman stayed at home with Seher. Though the air was thick with unresolved tensions, they knew that escaping the oppressive atmosphere of the house, even temporarily, was necessary.

Seher spent most of her time locked in her room, avoiding everyone, including her parents. Salman and Chachi remained distant, too consumed with their own shame to offer her much comfort.

By late afternoon, the university group returned, their laughter and chatter subdued compared to their usual camaraderie. They dropped their bags in the hallway and began settling back into the household's charged atmosphere.

Shortly after, Ahmed summoned everyone to the main sitting room. His tone left no room for questions, and the family gathered with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Even Feras stepped out of his study, his brow furrowed as he joined the others.

Ahmed stood at the head of the room, his imposing presence commanding silence. His expression was stern, his piercing gaze scanning the faces of his family. Beside him sat Salman, his shoulders slumped and his face unreadable. Chachi sat close to Seher, her protective stance doing little to hide her own guilt and unease.

Ahmed cleared his throat. "This family has been through enough disgrace," he began, his voice steady and resolute. "What happened with Seher has brought shame upon all of us. But it's time to move forward."

Seher flinched at his words, her face turning pale. Chachi reached out to pat her hand, but Ahmed's glare silenced any protest she might have had.

"Seher and Feras will not marry," Ahmed declared firmly. The room fell deathly silent, stunned by his pronouncement.

Feras, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Seher looked up, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. "Taya abbu.." she began, but Ahmed held up a hand, silencing her. (Taya abbu is referred to father's older brother)

"That decision has been made," Ahmed continued. "And in its place, I am announcing a new match." His gaze shifted, sharp and commanding. "Feras will marry Anam."

The room erupted in a silence.

Chachi shot up from her seat, her face twisted with disbelief. "What nonsense is this?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Anam? This is all her doing, isn't it? She's been plotting this from the start! Pakka iss larji ne loi kala jadu kya hai, mai bata rhi hun! Is larki ne kala jadu—" (I'm sure she has done some kind of black magic—)

"That's enough," Feras interrupted, his voice low but filled with warning. His sharp glare silenced Chachi instantly, though she continued to fume, muttering under her breath.

Anam, seated quietly in the corner, felt the blood drain from her face. Her heart raced, confusion and fear swirling within her. She looked at Ahmed, then at Feras, trying to process what was happening.

Feras took a step forward, his expression cold and detached. "I won't marry her," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The words struck Anam like a blow. Her chest tightened, and she quickly lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over her. Did he despise the idea of marrying her so much? Had she been foolish to hope, even for a moment?

Ahmed's expression hardened. "You will," he said firmly, his voice brooking no defiance.

"I won't," Feras countered, his jaw tightening. "This isn't the time for another nikah. We should be focusing on fixing the damage that's already been done."

"This isn't just about fixing the damage," Ahmed said, his gaze piercing. "This is about honoring your mother's last wish. I know I should have disclosed this information way earlier, but things were going well, and Seher felt like a good match for you."

Feras froze, his composure faltering for the first time. "What?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Before your mother passed away," Ahmed said, his tone softening but retaining its authority, "she made me promise that you would marry Anam. She saw something in her, Feras. Her strength, her patience, her unwavering faith. She believed that Anam was the only one who could truly stand by your side."

The room fell silent once more, the weight of Ahmed's words settling over everyone. Feras stared at his uncle, his mind reeling. His mother's wish? How could he refuse that?

Chachi let out a low, disbelieving laugh. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, shaking her head. "You're basing a marriage on the whims of a dead woman?"

Salman shot her a warning look, but it was Feras who responded, his voice colder than ice. "Say another word about my mother," he said quietly, "and you'll regret it."

Chachi fell silent, her face burning with anger and humiliation.

Anam, meanwhile, sat frozen, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She hadn't known about this wish, and while a small part of her felt a flicker of hope, it was quickly overshadowed by doubt and insecurity. Feras's initial rejection still stung, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he was being forced into something he didn't want.

Feras finally spoke, his voice measured but filled with tension. "If this is what my mother wanted," he said, his eyes locking onto Ahmed's, "then I'll do it. But don't expect me to celebrate it."

Ahmed nodded, satisfied. "That's all I needed to hear."

The room remained heavy with unspoken words as Ahmed dismissed everyone. As they began to disperse, Feras glanced at Anam, his expression unreadable. She met his gaze briefly before lowering her eyes, her thoughts a tangled mess.

This wasn't how she had ever imagined things unfolding, and as much as she wanted to believe in the possibility of their union, she couldn't ignore the bitterness in his tone.