20.

FERAS' POV:

I leaned against the edge of my bed, the room shrouded in the heavy silence of the night. The faint glow from the lamp cast long shadows on the walls, but I hardly noticed. My thoughts were elsewhere... chaotic, relentless, and completely consumed by her.

Anam.

Her voice from the terrace still echoed in my mind, trembling yet resolute, carrying a pain that felt like it was cutting through me instead of her. She had stood there beneath the moonlight, pouring her heart out to the unseen. Vulnerable. Completely unaware of the storm she had stirred in me.

I exhaled sharply, my hands curling into fists.

Why does it affect me like this?

I closed my eyes, but that only made it worse. The image of her standing there was seared into my memory. It wasn't just the sight of her... it was the sound of her voice, the weight of her words, the way she carried herself despite everything.

And it wasn't just tonight.

Earlier, in that godforsaken building, seeing her lying unconscious, discarded like she was nothing... The memory surged back like a wave. Her small frame, her torn clothes, the way her hijab was cast aside as if her dignity didn't matter.

But that wasn't all. After she woke up and found herself in my arms, I couldn't help but notice the way she clung to me, the way she cried, trembling in my embrace. I had tried to calm her, but inside, I was far from calm. I had been consumed with this strange, unsettling need to protect her.

And Aman.

The fury I felt in that moment burned hotter than anything I had ever known. I thought I was capable of controlling my emotions, of keeping my composure no matter the situation. But the sight of Aman hovering over her like some predator—my Anam—had snapped something inside me.

My heart had felt like it stopped. I wanted to destroy him, to make him pay for even daring to touch her. But she had been my priority. My only priority.

I shook the memory away, my knuckles pressing against my temples as if that could stop the onslaught of thoughts.

She wasn't always like this. I remembered her as a little girl... carefree, wild, her laughter filling the halls of our home. She was a burst of energy, a beacon of light. I had always cared for her back then, in that innocent way you care for someone who brings joy to your life. She had been a part of the background noise of my life, someone I was responsible for but nothing more. When her parents died and she came to live with us, things changed. She changed.

Anam became quiet, withdrawn. She was too mature for her age, taking on responsibilities no one asked her to bear. At first, I'd admired her resilience, but over time, that admiration turned into something I couldn't quite name.

And then there was the day when she had told everyone she was going to follow her mother's path, choosing to embrace Shia Islam, I had felt something shift inside me. I wasn't angry... not in the way I thought I would be. I wasn't furious, as Chachi, chachu and Abbu were.

But I wasn't happy, either.

I had always known Anam to be strong in her beliefs, her decisions driven by her own sense of right and wrong. That hadn't changed. But this choice... it wasn't something I could reconcile with my own understanding. It wasn't something I knew how to support, and I couldn't bring myself to stand against it, either.

.....

The next morning, the air was crisp with the promise of a new day, but Feras's thoughts were far from anything resembling peace. He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his brown kurta with meticulous care, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the taut muscles of his forearms. His sharp eyes, dark as the night, were narrowed with a cold intensity that hadn't faded since yesterday.

His phone buzzed on the vanity, and Feras's gaze remained steady as he answered it without hesitation, his voice as smooth and authoritative as always. "Asim, Zameer. Get to the location. I've kept Ibrahim there ."

He hung up the call with a finality that made the room feel even more silent than before. Feras stood for a moment, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His sharp gaze held a quiet intensity, a storm beneath his calm surface.

Leaving the room, he descended the grand staircase, the plush carpeting beneath his feet muffling his steps. He walked past the spacious hall and into the dining area, where everyone had gathered for breakfast. It was rare for Feras to have breakfast at home, a fact that no one dared to question. But today, the sight of the family around the table was unsettling in its normalcy.

Salman and Ahmed were already gone, likely off to tend to business. But it was the absence of Anam that immediately caught his attention.

"Anam kidr hai?" His voice was sharper than he intended, and it cut through the air with an unmistakable authority. (Where is Anam?)

Ayub, looking a bit forlorn, answered quietly, "Api kitchen mai hain, making breakfast." (She's in the kitchen, making breakfast.)

Feras's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Why isn't she here having breakfast with everyone else?" he asked, his gaze flickering towards Chachi, who was silently sipping her tea.

Chachi, never one to shy away from the role she had taken in their home, replied, "It's her responsibility."

Feras scoffed, not even bothering to hide his irritation. "And how is it her responsibility?" he challenged. "Seher is of the same age as Anam. Why isn't she helping out around here, then?"

The question hung in the air like a heavy weight. Chachi, stunned by his words, didn't have an answer. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Without waiting for her response, Feras turned on his heel and walked toward the kitchen. He knew exactly what he was about to do, but the sight of Anam standing there, her back turned as she prepared breakfast, struck a chord in him. She looked fragile today, even more than usual. She was silently moving about the kitchen, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't been kidnapped, humiliated, and nearly lost.

"Anam," he said, his voice low but firm, causing her to freeze mid-motion. His eyes darkened as he stepped closer to her. "Tum kya kar rhi ho yha?" (What are you doing in here?)

She flinched, and for a moment, Feras saw the hurt in her eyes before she quickly masked it. "Making breakfast," she replied quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Tumhe nhi lagta ke tumhe abhi rest krni chahiye?" His words were like ice, cutting through her attempts at normalcy. "You were kidnapped yesterday, and today, you're back at it like nothing happened?" His tone was laced with frustration. (Don't you think you should rest?)

Anam didn't answer right away, but Feras could see the weariness in her posture. He felt his anger drain away, replaced by something he couldn't quite identify.

"You need to rest," he said, his voice softening, though his usual coldness remained. "Go have breakfast, then lie down for a while. Aur aj university bhi skip kr lena" (And, skip university today.)

For a moment, Anam met his gaze, her face pale but filled with gratitude, and Feras felt a pang of something deep within him. But he quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to acknowledge it.

Anam nodded quietly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she wiped her hands on a towel and walked past him to leave the kitchen.

Feras stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, a conflicted look on his face. He had meant to scold her, to take care of her health. But instead, something in him had softened.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the table, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him once more. There was no time to dwell on feelings. His mind was already back on Ibrahim, Anam, his business, and the plans ahead.

.....

Feras's black BMW cruised through the narrow road leading to the secluded warehouse on the outskirts of the Karachi, where he did his main business. His mind was sharp, his focus on the task at hand. Ibrahim was going to pay for everything he did, and today, Feras was going to make sure the man felt every ounce of it.

As Feras arrived, he saw the two men waiting for him... Asim and Zameer. Asim, a tall, well-built man in his late twenties, stood casually with a friendly smile on his face. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and though his demeanor was easygoing, it was clear he was a force to be reckoned with in his own right. Asim's uniform was neatly pressed, his hair neatly combed, looking more like an officer on duty than someone ready for a confrontation.

Zameer, on the other hand, stood with his usual cocky grin, his thick neck covered by a dark leather jacket that screamed danger. His presence was like a dark storm cloud, but despite his reputation in the underworld, there was a playfulness in his eyes that made him seem almost... light-hearted. Zameer had a peculiar ability to be menacing and charismatic all at once, and that contrast was what made him unpredictable.

As Feras stepped out of the car, his eyes locked on Zameer, who was leaning against the warehouse door, twirling a cigarette between his fingers.

"Thought I was going to have to wait longer for you, Feras," Zameer called out with a smirk, flicking the cigarette away with a flourish as he pushed himself off the door. "I was just about to get bored... maybe even start a game of cards with the rats in here."

Feras gave him a fleeting glance, his expression unreadable. "The rats are the least of your worries today," he replied coolly, his voice carrying no warmth.

Zameer chuckled, as if this was just another casual encounter. "Oh, come on," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Lighten up, bhai. We're about to have some fun."

Asim, who had been silently watching the exchange, stepped forward with a warm smile, his tone friendly. "Good to see you, Feras," he said, offering his hand. "I see you're keeping things... under control."

Feras gave Asim a brief nod, shaking his hand before glancing at the warehouse. "Ibrahim is inside?" he asked, his voice cold and measured, not a trace of personal warmth in it.

Asim nodded, his smile never fading. "Yeah, he's inside. Zameer made sure no one would try anything funny."

Zameer grinned, holding up his phone like a trophy. "I've got eyes everywhere, my friend. This place is locked down tighter than a vault. No one is getting in or out without us knowing." He gave a mock bow. "You're welcome, Feras."

Feras didn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he walked past them and into the dimly lit warehouse. His mind was solely on Ibrahim now. The man had crossed a line, and Feras wasn't going to let him forget it.

Zameer slapped Asim's shoulder playfully as they followed Feras. "So, Asim," Zameer teased, "are you going to bring your polite self into the interrogation, or should I take the reins? You know, I do have a way with words."

Asim chuckled, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure you do, Zameer, but Feras has the plan. I'm just here to make sure no one gets too... excited." He gave Zameer a knowing look. "You tend to get carried away."

Zameer grinned mischievously. "I get results," he shot back with a wink, his tone playful despite the deadly business at hand.

Feras didn't look back at them. His gaze remained fixed on the large wooden door at the far end of the warehouse, where Ibrahim was being held.

As they reached the door, Feras motioned to Asim to open it. The sound of heavy chains rattling echoed through the silence, and the door creaked open.

Inside, Ibrahim sat tied to a chair, his eyes wide with fear, but the defiance was still visible in his posture. He had been waiting, knowing this moment was inevitable. When Feras stepped into the room, Ibrahim's face twisted into a sneer, but it was clear he was trying to mask the fear that was creeping into his eyes.

"You're late," Ibrahim spat, but his voice lacked the conviction it once had. Feras's icy stare made his bravado seem laughable.

"Not late enough," Feras replied coldly, his gaze never leaving Ibrahim's face. "Let's make sure you understand the consequences of your actions."

Zameer stepped forward, clearly enjoying the tension. "Can we at least have some fun first, Feras? I'm in the mood to entertain."

Feras didn't acknowledge him further. His focus was solely on Ibrahim now. He stepped closer, his voice low and deadly serious. "This is where your story ends, Ibrahim."

Asim and Zameer exchanged a look, but they said nothing more. Feras had always been a man of few words, and when it came to dealing with people like Ibrahim, words were unnecessary.

.....

The setting in the room inside the warehouse grew colder, the atmosphere thick with the tension of the aftermath. Feras stood in front of Ibrahim, who was slumped against the grimy wall, blood dripping from his face, his body barely holding together after Feras's relentless interrogation.

Asim, watched the scene unfold with an almost casual expression, though his eyes flickered with unease. Zameer, on the other hand, stood by his side, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he watched the man who had wronged Feras.

"You think Ibrahim's going to crack soon?" Zameer asked Asim with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Asim smirked, shrugging. "I don't know, Zameer. But from the looks of it, Feras has a way of getting answers out of people, one way or another."

Zameer's grin widened.

Feras's cold voice cut through the banter, commanding attention. "Ibrahim. Tell me why you did it. Why did you mess with my family?"

Ibrahim, bloodied and weak, raised his head just enough to meet Feras's gaze, his voice hoarse. "You think I did it just for fun?" he spat, his lips trembling. "You've had everything! My family... you took it all away from me. You put my father in jail!"

Asim raised an eyebrow, a rare serious look crossing his face. "Wait, hold up. You're telling me this goes all the way back to your father's arrest?"

Zameer chuckled darkly, cutting in with a grin. "Ah, the plot thickens. I was wondering when that old score would come up."

Feras didn't take his eyes off Ibrahim, his voice icy and low. "So you think kidnapping Seher then Anam and ruining my family's reputation is the way to get back at me for something that had nothing to do with you?"

Ibrahim's eyes darkened with fury. "You took my father away. You made sure he rotted behind bars. This was my way of making you feel the pain I've carried. My father was a man of power, a man who had everything... and you destroyed him!"

Zameer let out a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming. "This guy's got issues."

Feras leaned in closer to Ibrahim, his voice a lethal whisper. "You think you can stay untouched after going for my family? You're wrong."

Ibrahim sneered, blood staining his teeth. "I knew you'd come for me. But I didn't expect you to destroy me this way." His gaze shifted to Zameer. "And what about you? You're with Feras, right? So tell him what happens when you cross someone like me."

Zameer pushed off the wall, his tone playful but with an edge. "I'm not worried about you, Ibrahim. Your bark is worse than your bite." He turned to Feras, adding with a grin, "We've got this. Just give the word."

Feras's eyes narrowed at Ibrahim, his jaw tightening with anger. "You wanted revenge, Ibrahim. But now you've got a debt to pay... one you'll never repay."

Asim cleared his throat, his voice suddenly serious. "Let's finish this, Feras. We've got more work to do."

The tension in the air was palpable. Zameer gave a knowing glance to Asim before both men stepped back, allowing Feras to handle the situation as he saw fit. They knew better than to interfere when Feras was in this kind of mood.

Asim and Zameer exchanged a look as they stepped out of the warehouse, the blazing afternoon sun casting harsh shadows across the dirt road. Zameer pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one loose and lighting it with practiced ease. He exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"You know," he began, his tone casual, "for a guy who's so buttoned up, Feras sure has a flair for the dramatic."

Asim smirked, adjusting his uniform jacket. "Can you blame him? If I were in his shoes, I'd probably do the same. Although, maybe with a little less bloodshed."

Zameer chuckled. "Bloodshed's kind of his thing, though, isn't it? The man's got a reputation to uphold."

Their conversation was cut short by the sharp crack of a gunshot echoing from inside the warehouse. Both men froze, the casual banter dropping like a stone. Asim's hand instinctively went to his holstered weapon, his jaw tightening.

"Think he did it?" Asim asked, his voice low.

Zameer took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before flicking the butt away. His expression darkened, though the glimmer of his usual humor remained. "I think we both know the answer to that, Officer."

A moment later, the heavy metal door of the warehouse creaked open. Feras emerged, his light brown kurta now stained with streaks of blood, his face an impenetrable mask of cold fury. His eyes met theirs, and the sheer intensity of his gaze made even Zameer fall silent.

Asim was the first to speak, his voice measured. "I take it that's one less problem to deal with?"

Feras ignored the question, his tone brisk and commanding. "We're not done yet. I want Aman found—now."

Zameer tilted his head, his smirk returning despite the tension. "The cousin? Thought he'd run off like a rat by now."

Feras's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "He won't get far. Start digging into his usual haunts. I want him alive, but I won't hesitate if he resists."

Asim nodded, already pulling out his phone. "I'll get my team on it. We'll track him down."

Zameer gave a mock salute, his grin sharp. "Consider it done, boss. I've got some friends who'll be more than happy to help."

Feras's voice dropped an octave, each word cutting through the tension like a blade. "Make no mistakes. I want him brought to me."

Asim and Zameer exchanged a quick glance before heading to their respective vehicles.

Behind them, Feras stood in the harsh light of the warehouse entrance, his bloodied hands clenched into fists. His mind was a storm of thoughts. Just the name of Aman made his blood boil.

.....

Feras's car rolled to a stop outside the family bungalow, its tires crunching against the gravel driveway. The journey had been long... four grueling hours of driving through winding roads, his mind preoccupied with thoughts that refused to settle. The quiet of the village night was a stark contrast to the chaos he'd left behind. The bungalow stood in serene darkness, save for the faint glow of a porch light.

He stepped out of the car, his movements measured, and made his way inside. The hallways were quiet; the soft murmur of crickets outside was the only sound. Everyone was already in their rooms, the house steeped in a peaceful stillness.

Without a second thought, Feras headed straight for his room. His bloodied kurta felt heavier with each step, a reminder of the day's events. Just as he turned a corner, his shoulder bumped into someone.

"Ah!" A soft gasp escaped Anam as she stumbled back. Feras's reflexes were quick, his arm darting out to catch her before she could fall.

"Dekh ker nhi chal sakti?" His voice was cold, but his grip on her arm was firm, steadying her. (Don't you see where you're going?)

Anam's wide eyes flickered from his face to the crimson stains on his kurta. Her breath hitched, and her voice trembled. "Aap... aap theek hain? Yeh khoon...?" (You... are you okay? Blood...?)

Feras straightened, releasing her arm and stepping back. His expression was unreadable, his tone detached. "Kuch nahi hai, Anam. Tum jao, apne kamre mein." (It's nothing Anam. Go back to your room.)

But Anam didn't move. Her gaze remained fixed on the blood, her heart sinking. She knew this had something to do with Ibrahim and Aman... she could feel it. But she didn't dare press him further. Instead, she hesitated for a moment before whispering, "Aap ne khana khaya?" (Did you eat?)

Feras paused, his dark eyes flickering to her face. "Nahi. Tumhe isse kya?" (No. Mind your own business)

She swallowed, her voice soft but insistent. "Aap jaa ker fresh hojayein. Main kuch banati hoon." (You go and get freshed up. Meanwhile I cook something for you.)

He stared at her for a moment, his cold exterior unyielding, but there was something in her tone...gentle yet determined... that made him nod slightly. "Jo karna hai, jaldi karo," he said tersely before walking past her toward his room. (Be fast then.)

As Feras disappeared down the hallway, Anam stood there for a moment, her heart still racing.

Turning on her heel, she made her way to the kitchen.

Anam entered the kitchen quietly, her movements quick and efficient. She opened the fridge and found the leftover aloo qeema from dinner. It was still fresh; a quick reheating would make it just as good. Placing it in a pan on the stove, she adjusted the flame and reached for the atta to make fresh roti.

As she worked, her thoughts were restless. The blood on Feras's kurta wouldn't leave her mind. She knew better than to ask too many questions, but worry gnawed at her. Why did he always insist on bearing so much alone?

The sound of the stove filled the silence as she expertly rolled the dough into perfect rounds. One by one, the rotis puffed up on the hot tawa, their golden-brown spots a sign of readiness. She set them in a small basket, covering them with a clean cloth to keep them warm.

The aloo qeema was ready, the aroma filling the kitchen and providing a strange sense of comfort. She plated the food neatly, adding a small bowl of yogurt and some pickles on the side.

By the time she was done, she heard the faint sound of his footsteps approaching the kitchen. Turning around, she saw Feras enter, freshly showered, his hair damp and his kurta changed to a plain black one. He looked exhausted but still carried himself with that same cold composure.

"Ho gaya?" he asked, his voice low as he leaned against the doorframe. (Done?)

"Haan, sab kuch tayar hai," she replied, gesturing to the small dining table. She had already set it up with everything he might need. (Yes, everything's ready)

Feras walked over and sat down, his movements deliberate but tired. Anam followed, standing nearby, unsure if she should stay or leave.

"Tum khari jyu hoyi ho? Jao Jaake aram karo," he said without looking at her, tearing off a piece of roti. (Why are you still standing? go and rest)

"Ji... bas jaa rhi hun," she said softly, her voice steady despite her nervousness. (Yes... I'm just about to go)

Feras's hand paused for a moment, but he didn't respond. He continued eating in silence, the tension in the room slowly easing with each bite. Anam stood quietly by the counter, watching him discreetly to make sure he ate enough.

Finally, when he finished, he pushed the plate back slightly and looked at her. "Shukriya," he said gruffly, standing up and heading toward the door. (Thank-you)

Anam smiled faintly, relief washing over her. "Aapko aur chahiye toh bata dijiye," she called after him. (If you want more, then tell me)

He paused at the doorway and turned slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers. For a fleeting moment, something softer flickered in his gaze. "Nhi. Tum jao, ab so jao," he said, his tone still firm but less cold. (No, I'm fine. You go and sleep)

She nodded, watching him disappear down the hallway once more. She cleaned up the table, her mind lingering on him.

.....

Feras entered his room, his body heavy with exhaustion, but his mind restless. His gaze fell on the freshly washed shawl lying neatly on the edge of the bed... the same shawl he had draped over Anam on that fateful day. Picking it up, he unfolded it carefully and brought it close to his face.

It still carried a faint, delicate fragrance... hers. His lips curved into an involuntary smile as he closed his eyes, the scent somehow easing the storm within him. But as he opened his eyes again, his smile vanished, replaced by a deep frown.

A small, dried dots of blood marred the otherwise pristine fabric. His grip on the shawl tightened as his jaw clenched. Without wasting a moment, he strode out of his room and headed straight to Anam and Ayub's.

Knocking firmly on the door, he waited, his expression dark. A few moments later, Ayub opened the door, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Feras bhai? Kya hua? Sab theek hai?" Ayub asked, her voice tinged with concern. (Feras bhai? what happened? is everything okay?)

"Anam kahan hai?" Feras asked curtly, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. (Where is Anam?)

"Shayad terrace par hain," Ayub replied, glancing back into the room. "Koyi zaroori baat hai?" (Maybe on the terrace. Do you need to tell her something?)

Feras nodded sharply. "Tum jaake so jao." (Go and sleep)

Ayub nodded, stepping back inside as Feras turned and headed up the stairs toward the terrace.

The cool night breeze brushed against Anam's face as she stood on the terrace, her tasbih moving rhythmically between her fingers. Her lips moved in silent reciting Tasbih e Zahra as., her gaze fixed on the moon. A soft smile graced her face, a rare moment of peace after everything that had happened.

The sound of footsteps behind her broke her reverie. She turned sharply, startled to see Feras standing there, his intense eyes fixed on her.

"Aap yahan?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise and confusion. (You. Here?)

Feras stepped closer, holding up the shawl. "Yeh dekho," he said coldly, his voice low but firm. "Yeh khoon ka nishaan kis ka hai?" (Look... who's blood strain is this)

Anam's eyes widened in alarm as her gaze dropped to the shawl. Her fingers stilled on the tasbih, and she struggled to find her words. "W-w... woh pta nahi," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. (That... that, I don't know)

Feras's eyes narrowed, and he took another step forward, his towering presence commanding. "Mujse jhooth mat bolo, Anam," he said sharply. "Yeh khoon ka nishaan kahan se aya?" (Don't lie to me Anam. Where did this blood strain come from?)

Anam swallowed hard, her hands clutching the tasbih tightly. She looked away, her voice trembling. "Woh... jab woh log mujhe kheench rahe thay... toh thodi chot lagi thi," she admitted reluctantly, her eyes glistening. "Lekin sach mein, kuch zyada nahi lagi." (When they were pulling me it happened. But it's nothing serious)

Feras's jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. He turned his back to her for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself. Then he turned back, his voice softer but no less intense.

"Tumne mujhe bataya kyun nahi?" (Why didn't you tell me)

Anam's eyes filled with guilt as she glanced down. "Aap itne pareshan thay... main nahi chahti thi ke aap aur tension lein," she said softly, her voice trembling. (You were already so stressed. I didn't want to make it worse.)

Feras stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Tum meri biwi ho ab, Anam. Agar tumhe kabhi koi chot laghe ya phir koi pareshani ho toh... Then you should tell me, I should be the first person to know about it" (You are my wife Anam, when you get hurt or something happens, then. )

Anam looked up at him, her heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself at a loss for words.

Feras shook his head, the tension in his body slowly easing. "Ab agar kabhi kuch aisa ho, toh mujhse chupana nhi. Samjhi?" (When something happens the next time, then don't ever hide it from me. Understood?)

Anam nodded silently, her eyes locked with his. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them standing under the moonlit sky.

Finally, Feras stepped back, his usual composure returning. "Chalo neeche. Tumhe rest ki zarurat hai."(Let's go. You should rest)

Anam hesitated before nodding, clutching the tasbih close to her chest. As they walked down together, she couldn't help but glance at him from the corner of her eye, her heart heavy with unspoken words.

Well... this is the longest update yet.

Should I switch dialogues back to English, or are they better in Urdu?