19.

In the car, the hum of the engine was the only sound for a long while. Feras's sharp, focused gaze stayed on the road ahead, his knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. Beside him, Anam sat curled in the passenger seat, wrapped in the shawl Feras had draped over her. Her fingers fidgeted with its edge, her emotions a tangled mess of fear, relief, and something she couldn't quite name.

She was scared.. terrified, in fact... but there was a strange, almost surreal thrill buried beneath the trauma. Her mind flashed back to the romance novels she had devoured as a teenager, the ones filled with dangerous rescues and fierce protectors. Those stories had always seemed too far-fetched, too dramatic to be real. Yet here she was, living a version of them she never could have imagined.

But the thought of Aman made her stomach churn. His leering gaze, the way he had tried to corner her... it all came rushing back, and she instinctively pulled the shawl tighter around herself, as if it could shield her from the memory.

Feras glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. He had noticed her trembling and the way she avoided looking at him. "Anam," he said, his voice quieter than she expected.

She turned to him, startled.

"Kya tum... thik ho?" His words were simple, but they carried a weight she hadn't expected... a rare softness beneath his usual cold tone. (Are you... okay?)

"I..." She hesitated, then nodded, her lips pressing together. "Ji, Just..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked out the window, her eyes tracing the faint glow of city lights in the distance. "Jo kuch bhi hua was... a lot." (Yes... just that, whatever happened, it was... a lot)

Feras didn't respond immediately. His jaw tightened, and he nodded once, focusing back on the road.

Behind them, Ayan rode his bike, keeping a steady pace. He had been silent since they left, but Anam had caught the worry in his eyes when he had glanced her way earlier. He was the brother she never had, and the thought of how he and Feras had fought for her brought a small, bittersweet comfort to her heart.

She felt small and shaken, but there was a strange, detached part of her that couldn't help noticing how surreal it all felt. And though she hated to admit it, the lingering shadow of Aman's betrayal made her skin crawl.

Feras broke the silence again, his voice colder than she'd expected. "Did Aman do anything to you?"

Anam stiffened, startled by the bluntness of his question. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond, her hands clutching the shawl tighter.

When she didn't answer immediately, Feras's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I need to know, Anam," he said, his tone quieter but still firm. "What happened back there?"

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. Her gaze dropped to her lap as she searched for the words. "He..." Her voice trembled slightly, but she forced herself to continue. "He tried to... he was about to... before you came..." She paused, gulping.  "But he didn't get the chance before you came."

The car speed up slightly as Feras's jaw tightened. His expression darkened, his cold exterior barely hiding the fury simmering beneath the surface. He exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to control the storm inside him. "Uss kutte ko waha par hi goli mar deni chahiye thi mujhe," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than her. (I should have shot him right there)

Anam flinched slightly, and her voice came out instinctively. "Bhai... don't say things like that—" She froze mid-sentence, realizing what she'd just called him.

Feras's hands stilled, and his gaze flicked toward her briefly, his expression unreadable.

"I—I mean, Feras..." she stammered, her cheeks burning. She looked down, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

She looked out of the window, and silence prevailed.

"You're safe now," he broke the silance, his tone still cold but with an edge of reassurance. "No one will touch you again. Not while I'm here."

The conviction in his voice made her glance at him. His face was hard, his jaw clenched, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something she couldn't quite place.

"Thank-you, Feras, bha-, mera matlab Feras" she murmured, her voice barely audible. "For saving me."

He nodded curtly, his eyes back on the road. "You don't need to thank me." But there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's the second time you've done that," he said, his tone softer but still edged with his usual coldness.

Anam's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. "I didn't mean to... it just slipped out," she murmurd, barely audible.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again," he said curtly, but the slight amusement in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

The conversation fell into silence again, but the tension in the air was palpable.

"Tume kahin chot toh nahi lagi?" he asked suddenly, his voice softer this time. (You're not hurt anywhere, right?)

Anam, thought for a second. There was a continuous pain in her arm, but she decided to not share it with him. So, she shook her head quickly. "No, I'm fine. Alhamdulillah. Just... shaken."

He nodded again, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly. "Good."

She leaned back against the seat, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Her fingers still clung to the shawl, seeking comfort in its soft texture. Despite Feras's coldness, there was something steadying about his presence...a reassurance she hadn't expected.

As the car neared home, Feras murmured to himself, his tone neutral but laced with quiet determination. "Uss haramzade ko uss ki aukad mai yaad dilaun ga, aik bhar mere samne aa jaye." (I'll put that bast*rd back in his place, just let him come in front of me once.)

Anam heard him but didn't respond, she was a little shook by his tone and choice of words.

Anam's mind wandered as the car sped down the empty roads. The thrill she had felt earlier was fading, replaced by a heavy exhaustion. But even in her weariness, she couldn't shake the thought that her life had shifted irrevocably tonight.

And as much as she tried to push it aside, the memory of Aman's actions lingered like a shadow. It wasn't just the fear or disgust... it was the betrayal. He was family, someone she had grown up around, and yet he had crossed boundaries she never thought possible.

Her fingers tightened on the shawl again, and she forced herself to breathe deeply. This wasn't the end. She was stronger than this, stronger than him.

Feras's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "We're almost home. Ayan's right behind us."

She nodded, leaning back against the seat. As they neared the house, she couldn't help but whisper a quiet prayer. Despite everything, she felt a flicker of hope. She wasn't alone. Feras, Ayan, and even Ayub... they had all been there for her.

Whatever came next, she would face it with faith and courage.

As the BMW pulled into the driveway, the faint hum of Ayan's bike followed closely behind. The moment they parked, the front door swung open, and the family emerged into the dimly lit porch, their faces painted with worry and tension. Ahmed was the first to step forward, his gaze moving from Anam's pale face to Feras' tightly clenched jaw.

"What happened?" Ahmed's voice was calm but laced with concern, his eyes narrowing as he caught the storm brewing in his son's expression.

Ayan stepped forward, brushing the dust off his jacket. "Aman betrayed us, he contracted with Ibrahim" he announced bluntly, his tone devoid of its usual humor. "They planned to kidnap Anam. We found her in an abandoned apartment... unconscious. Aur agar hame thori si bhi dair ho jati toh..." He trailed off, his fists curling at the memory. (And if we got there, even a little bit later then...)

Gasps echoed through the group. Chachi staggered slightly, her hand flying to her chest as she processed his words. "T-tum juth bol rhe ho!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill. "Aman would never do such a thing! It must've been a misunderstanding!" (You're lying)

"It's no misunderstanding," Feras interjected coldly, his deep voice slicing through the noise. He stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the group. "Yeh sare Aman ke hi kartut hain. Moke ka faida uthake bhag gyea phir haram zada." (These are all Aman's doings. Took advantage of the situation and ran away again, that bast*rd.)

Chachi's face crumpled, a mixture of denial and despair taking over. She suddenly turned her anger toward Anam, pointing a trembling finger at her. "Ye sari teri galti hai! Ever since you came into this house, nothing but trouble has followed! First, you steal the proposal meant for Seher, and now this? You've ruined my son's reputation, you wretched girl!" (This is all your fault)

Anam flinched, her fingers curling into the shawl still draped over her shoulders. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but before she could speak, Feras took a step forward, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Don't—"

But before Feras could finish, Salman Chacha, stepped in, his booming voice cutting through the chaos. "Enough!"

Everyone turned to look at him, stunned. Salman's face was a mixture of embarrassment and anger, his voice shaking as he addressed his wife. "Do you even hear yourself, Sana? Blaming Anam after what our own son did? Have you no shame?"

Chachi looked at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Salman, how can you—"

"How can I what?" he interrupted, his voice rising. "How can I call out the truth? Because it needs to be said! First Seher and her haram relationship with that disgrace of a man, Ibrahim, nearly ruined us. And now Aman? He betrayed his own family for his sick obsession! How much longer are you going to bury your head in the sand and make excuses for them?"

Seher's face turned bright red, her lips trembling as she glared at her father. "I didn't ask to be humiliated like that, Baba!" she spat.

"No, you didn't," Salman snapped. "But you're the one who dragged the family's name into the dirt. And now Aman has done the same. I'm ashamed—ashamed of the both of you!"

Chachi looked like she wanted to sink into the ground, her fury dissipating into shocked silence. Seher crossed her arms, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, but she stayed quiet, her gaze flickering between her father and Anam.

Salman turned to Anam, his voice softening slightly. "Beta, you didn't deserve any of this. I'm sorry for what my son did to you. And I'll make sure he pays for it." (Child)

Anam nodded silently, her eyes cast downward, but the weight of Salman's support made her heart feel slightly lighter.

Ahmed, who had been quietly observing everything, finally spoke. "This isn't the time for arguments. Feras, take Anam inside. She needs to rest. We'll deal with the rest later."

Feras gave a curt nod and turned to Anam, his hand hovering near her back as if to guide her inside. She hesitated for a moment but then followed him, her steps heavy but her heart buoyed by the faint sense of protection his presence offered.

As the two disappeared into the house, the tension on the porch remained palpeble. Ayan leaned against his bike, his arms crossed, shaking his head. "You all should focus less on blaming Anam and more on cleaning up the mess your own kids have made," he said sharply, throwing a glare toward Chachi and Seher before walking inside.

Chachi opened her mouth to respond, but Salman shot her a warning look. For once, she stayed silent.

.....

Feras guided Anam to the room she shared with Ayub, his steps firm but his expression unreadable. The weight of the evening hung heavily in the air, but Feras' presence was steady, offering an unspoken assurance. Anam, still clutching the shawl he had draped over her earlier, felt her nerves settle slightly as they stepped inside.

He gestured toward the bed. "Betho," he said quietly, his tone still carrying that familiar chill. But the gentleness in his actions as he adjusted the pillows spoke louder than his words. (Sit)

Anam nodded and sat down, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the shawl. She felt overwhelmed, not just by the events of the night but also by Feras' reserved kindness. She glanced at him, wanting to thank him, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.

Just then, the door opened, and Ayub entered. Her younger sister froze for a moment, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Anam's disheveled state and Feras' presence.

"Api!" Ayub exclaimed, rushing to Anam's side. She dropped to her knees in front of her sister, taking her hands in her own. "Are you okay? Ap ko pata mai kitna dar gyi thi!" (Sister, Are you okay. I was so scared for you.)

Anam managed a small smile, her voice soft but steady. "I'm okay now, Ayub. Don't worry."

Ayub looked at Feras, her expression both grateful and concerned. "Thank you, Bhai, for bringing her back."

Feras gave a slight nod, his hands slipping into his pockets. "She needs rest. Keep an eye on her," he said curtly, his gaze lingering on Anam for a moment longer before he turned to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Ayub turned back to Anam, her worry transforming into a sisterly scolding. "You scared all of us! What were you thinking, Aik dam se ghaib hi gogyi thi ap" (You just disappeared out of nowhere)

"Mai apne kamre mai hi thi," Anam said gently, though her voice quivered slightly. "Aman... he—" Her voice broke, and she looked down, her hands tightening around the shawl. (I was in the room... when Aman, he—)

Ayub's face darkened, her lips pressing into a firm line. "That disgusting excuse of a human being! How dare he—" She stopped herself, taking a deep breath to calm down. Then she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Anam in a comforting hug.

"It's over now, Api," Ayub murmured. "You're safe. And we'll make sure nothing like this ever happens again."

Anam leaned into her sister's embrace, her heart swelling with gratitude.

.....

The house was quiet, bathed in the calm of the night. Anam slipped out of bed, her heart heavy with unspoken words and lingering fears. Wrapping herself in a shawl, she made her way to the prayer mat, her soul seeking solace in the stillness of tahajjud.

After finishing her prayers, she reached for the booklet of Ziyarat-e-Imam Hussain (a.s.). Her voice was low but steady as she recited, the words filling the room with an almost tangible sense of peace. As she concluded, her heart felt lighter. It always did when she thought of Imam Hussain (a.s.)—his struggles made her own seem small, his resilience reminded her to persevere.

But tonight, even with that peace, something still weighed on her. A gnawing need to confide, to share the storm inside her heart. Her mind wandered to a saying she had once read, attributed to Imam Ali Raza (a.s.): "If you cannot speak to me as an Imam, speak to me as a father. If not as a father, then as a brother. And if not as a brother, then as a friend."

The thought struck a chord within her. She yearned to speak, to release her worries into the vast expanse of the night. Rising from the prayer mat, she moved toward the terrace, drawn to the moonlit serenity outside.

The cool night air greeted her as she stepped onto the terrace. The world seemed so still, so far removed from the chaos she had endured. She lifted her gaze to the moon, its soft glow casting light over her tear-streaked face.

"Ya Imam-e-Zamana," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're the friend of the broken-hearted, aren't you? They say we can talk to you, confide in you like we would to a brother or a friend... That's what I need tonight."

She wrapped her arms around herself, the tears she had been holding back now falling freely.

"I don't even know where to begin. Everything feels so overwhelming. The niqah, Feras, Aman..." Her voice cracked as she said the name, and she took a shaky breath. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want to cause trouble. But... why do I feel like a burden? Why do I feel like I'm unworthy of him? He's so... perfect. And I'm just—"

She paused, her shoulders shaking as the sobs overcame her. "And Aman... I still feel his presence, his disgusting gaze. It makes me feel so... small."

Unbeknownst to her, Feras had stepped outside, seeking the calm of the night to clear his own mind. He paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the terrace, drawn by the sound of her voice.

At first, he hesitated, not wanting to intrude. But as her words reached his ears, his feet refused to move away. His expression darkened at the mention of Aman, a silent fury igniting within him.

He stayed hidden, listening as she continued.

"But still, I'm trying to hold onto faith," she murmured, her tears slowing. "I know Allah will make everything right. I know Imam (a.s.) you're listening. I just wish... I could be stronger."

Her voice softened as she looked at the moon again, a faint smile breaking through her sorrow. "Thank you for listening, my Imam. I feel lighter now. Please, keep me on the right path. Help me to be better, stronger."

Feras stood motionless in the shadows, his heart conflicted. He had never seen her like this... so vulnerable, yet so strong in her faith. It stirred something within him, a strange mix of protectiveness and guilt. Protectiveness because he wanted to shield her from every sorrow she had poured out, and guilt because he hadn't been able to see just how much she had been carrying.

"Evil doers never think well of anyone because they see others in their own nature"

—Imam Ali as