Chapter 1
The room was filled with the quiet rustle of silk and the faint scent of rose attar.
She sat motionless before the tall mirror, the weight of her bridal dress settling around her like chains rather than celebration. The deep red lehenga shimmered with intricate embroidery that caught the soft yellow light of the room's lights. Gold jewelry rested heavily around her neck, wrists, and forehead, each piece carefully chosen by her aunt to display the family's wealth to the guests gathering downstairs.
Outside the room, voices drifted through the hallway. Women laughed, bangles clinked, and the distant rhythm of wedding drums echoed faintly through the old house.
From somewhere below came the aroma of Hyderabadi biryani and fried onions, drifting up through the staircase along with the lively chatter of guests. The house stood in one of the older neighborhoods of Hyderabad, where weddings meant crowded courtyards, glowing lights hanging across balconies, and relatives filling every room.
It was supposed to be a joyful day.
Instead, She stared at her reflection as if she were looking at a stranger.
The kohl around her eyes had been applied perfectly, the red lipstick carefully chosen to match the bridal outfit, and delicate henna patterns covered her hands all the way to her elbows .
Yet her kohl lined eyes looked hollow.
Lost.
The mirror blurred as another memory forced its way into her mind a memory that never truly left her.
Rain.
Cold, relentless rain pounding against the car windows.
She had been thirteen then, squeezed into the backseat between her older brother and a pile of grocery bags. Her father was driving while her mother sat in the passenger seat, humming softly along to a Qur'an recitation playing from the car speakers...
وَمَا جَعَلْنَا لِبَشَرٍۢ مِّن قَبْلِكَ ٱلْخُلْدَ ۖ أَفَإِي۟ن مِّتَّ فَهُمُ ٱلْخَـٰلِدُونَ ٣٤
We have not granted immortality to any human before you ˹O Prophet˺: so if you die, will they live forever?
كُلُّ نَفْسٍۢ ذَآئِقَةُ ٱلْمَوْتِ ۗ وَنَبْلُوكُم بِٱلشَّرِّ وَٱلْخَيْرِ فِتْنَةًۭ ۖ وَإِلَيْنَا تُرْجَعُونَ ٣٥
Every soul will taste death. And We test you ˹O humanity˺ with good and evil as a trial, then to Us you will ˹all˺ be returned.
Quran (21:34 - 35)
Her brother had nudged her shoulder playfully.
"Aliya, school ka homework kiya ya phir phir se bhool gayi?"
She had rolled her eyes.
"Kiyaa hai bhaiii! Aap bas tang karte rehte ho."
Her mother laughed gently.
"Tum dono kabhi chup bhi reh sakte ho? Jb dekho jhagda...."
Then,
Headlights.
Too bright.
Too sudden.
A deafening screech of brakes.
Her body immediately covered by her brother whose body pierced with glass pieces.
Metal crashing.
Glass shattering.
The world spinning violently before everything dissolved into darkness.
Aliya blinked, her breathing uneven.
Thirteen.
That was the day everything in her life had ended.
Her parents.
Her brother.
All gone in a single moment.
And with them, the warmth of the only home she had ever known.
She was sent to live with her father's elder brother Zohaib Farooqi after the accident. At first, Zohaib and Aliza had seemed kind, sympathetic even. They spoke softly to her, comforted her when she cried at night, and promised to take care of her as if she were their own daughter.
But years passed.
And things changed.
Slowly.
Subtly.
The kindness faded the moment the lawyers began discussing the inheritance her father had left behind.
Property.
Savings.
Investments.
Everything that legally belonged to her once she reached adulthood.
Aliya looked down at her henna covered hands, her chest tightening.
And now they wanted to control it.
Through marriage.
Through him.
Her cousin. Rehan Farooqi.
A shiver ran down her spine just thinking about the way he looked at her.
Not like family.
Never like family.
His gaze lingered too long.
Too intensely.
Like he was examining something he already owned.
"Aliya beta!"
Aliza;Her aunt's voice suddenly broke through the silence as the door opened.
Three women with her entered the room, adjusting their dupattas and carrying trays filled with bangles and perfume bottles.
Aliza approached the mirror, smiling brightly.
"Dekho toh zara... kitni khoobsurat lag rahi ho tum."
Aliya forced the corners of her lips to lift slightly.
"Ji, tayi ammi."
Her aunt leaned closer, adjusting the jewelry near her forehead.
"Aaj tumhari zindagi ka sabse khubsurat din hai. Rehan bachpan se tumhe pasand karta h. Or dekho aaj wo pehle dafa ye ghunghat khud uthayega, nhi?"
The words made Aliya's stomach twist.
Her aunt continued happily.
"Allah ka shukar hai sab kuch itna achha ho raha hai. Nikah ke baad sab theek ho jayega. Behad shadid mohabbat krta h wo tumse, bohat zid se tumhara joda bhi khud psnd kiya tha usne taki apni dulhan ko apni paak mohabbat k libaas m mlboos dekhe..."
Aliya lowered her gaze.
Paak Mohabbat? Allah ka shukar?
If only they knew.
Or maybe they already did.
Maybe that was exactly why they were rushing this marriage.
One of the other women laughed.
"Chalo chalo, neeche mehmaan aur aa rahe hain. Qazi sahab bhi bas pohanchne wale honge."
Her aunt nodded.
"Haan, tum yahin baitho Aliya. Hum abhi aate hain."
The women slowly left the room, their chatter fading as they walked down the hallway.
The door clicked shut.
Silence returned.
Aliya didn't move for several seconds.
Then suddenly,
She stood up.
Her heartbeat quickened as she walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the small travel bag she had hidden behind the hanging clothes.
She opened it quickly.
Inside were the things she had spent weeks preparing.
A pouch containing several pieces of her mother's gold jewelry.
Bundles of cash she saved from her work, selling baking things, some craft things, giving tuitions and from Eid gifts.
And a thick envelope.
Her fingers tightened around it.
The inheritance documents.
She had stolen them the previous night while her uncle and aunt were busy downstairs preparing for the wedding festivities.
If she had left them behind, they would have complete control.
She placed the envelope carefully back inside the bag over her some clothes she took.
Next to it lay a folded prayer mat.
And a small Mushaf wrapped in cloth.
Aliya gently placed them on top of everything else.
Her throat tightened.
"Ya Allah... meri madad karna."
Then she moved quickly.
She removed the heavy bridal dupatta and instead pulled a black abaya over her dress.
After that came the khimar, covering her hair completely.
Finally, she tied the niqab over her face.
Only her eyes remained visible now.
{ Writer's Note: if someone doesn't know what it khimar, I've given the photo u can see above the chapter heading. khimar is for head which is draped over abaya ( abaya mostly known as burqa around India) }
She slung the bag over her shoulder and walked toward the window.
The second floor.
For a moment fear gripped her chest.
If someone saw her,
Everything would be over.
But staying here meant something worse.
Far worse.
She pushed the window open slowly.
Warm evening air from the streets of Hyderabad rushed inside.
From far away she could hear the distant call of a vendor closing his stall and the faint buzz of motorcycles weaving through the narrow lanes of the Old City.
Just below the window ran a thick water pipeline attached to the outer wall of the house.
Aliya gripped it carefully and stepped onto the narrow ledge.
Her hands trembled slightly.
"Bismillah..."
Slowly, cautiously, she began climbing down.
Her bridal dress snagged once against the wall, and her heart nearly stopped.
But she managed to free it.
Step by step.
Closer to the ground.
Finally,
Her feet touched the grass.
Aliya exhaled shakily.
She glanced back at the large house behind her.
Inside those walls, guests were probably gathering, waiting for the bride who would never arrive.
Somewhere inside was Rehan.
The thought of his eyes sliding over her like they always did made her stomach churn.
"Ab tum mujhe kabhi nahin paoge," she whispered under her breath.
Then she turned.
And began running into the night.
Through the narrow lanes of Hyderabad.
The wedding house disappeared behind twisting streets and crowded lanes of Hyderabad , but she didn't slow down. Her heart still pounded violently as if someone might grab her from behind at any moment.
The narrow lanes of the Old City stretched endlessly ahead of her. Balconies leaned over the street from both sides, their yellow lights glowing faintly. A few late night chai stalls were still open, men sitting on plastic chairs sipping strong Irani chai while talking lazily.
Aliya lowered her gaze and walked faster, clutching her bag tightly.
She couldn't let anyone recognize her.
A passing auto rickshaw slowed beside her.
"Madam, kidhar jaana?" the driver called out, leaning slightly from his seat.
Aliya immediately opened the side door and climbed inside.
"Bas... bas yahan s chalao. Yahan se door le chalo," she said breathlessly.
The auto jerked forward and merged into the night traffic. Motorcycles buzzed past, their headlights cutting through the dim streets. Somewhere nearby, a vendor was pulling down the shutter of his stall with a loud metallic clang.
Aliya tried to steady her breathing.
Main bach gayi...
The thought felt unreal.
For the first time since escaping the house, she looked outside. Small shops passed by - bakeries, paan stalls, tea cafés with dim lights glowing inside. The smell of spices and tea lingered in the humid air.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Minutes passed.
Then something felt wrong.
Aliya frowned slightly as she noticed the streets growing narrower. The lively markets slowly disappeared, replaced by darker alleys and old warehouses near the outskirts.
She leaned forward slightly.
"Bhaiya... yeh kaunsa raasta hai?" she asked carefully.
The driver didn't respond.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the seat.
"Bhaiya?" she repeated.
Still nothing.
The auto suddenly turned sharply into another dim lane.
A chill crawled down her spine.
"Bhaiya Ruko... yahin ruko," she said quickly.
The driver ignored her.
Panic surged inside her chest.
"RUKO!" she shouted.
Instead of stopping, the auto sped up.
Aliya's heartbeat slammed violently against her ribs.
Ya Allah...
She glanced behind her.
The street looked almost deserted now. Only a few dim streetlights flickered along the road.
Her voice trembled as she shouted again.
"Auto roko! Maine kaha roko Auto!"
The driver finally spoke, his voice rough.
"Chup baitho. Zyada awaaz nakko karo."
Fear exploded inside her.
Without thinking further, Aliya pushed the auto door open.
Wind rushed violently against her face.
For one second she hesitated.
Then she jumped.
Her body hit the rough road painfully as she rolled across the ground. Dust scraped against her palms, but adrenaline forced her to her feet immediately.
Behind her the auto screeched to a stop.
"Arre! Pagal ladki!" the driver shouted angrily.
Aliya didn't look back.
She ran.
Her abaya swirled wildly around her legs as she sprinted through the dim alleyway.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
The driver was chasing her.
"RUKO!" he yelled.
But Aliya ran harder.
Her eyes darted desperately around until she spotted a large warehouse building at the end of the lane. The back door stood slightly open, faint light spilling through the gap.
Without thinking she rushed toward it.
She slipped inside and immediately pushed the heavy metal door shut, sliding the latch into place with trembling hands.
The loud clang echoed through the empty room.
Aliya leaned against the door, breathing heavily.
Outside, the driver's footsteps approached.
He rattled the handle.
Once.
Twice.
"Darwaza kholo!" he shouted angrily.
Aliya pressed her hand over her mouth, forcing herself not to breathe loudly.
Seconds stretched painfully long.
Finally the footsteps faded away.
Silence returned.
Aliya slowly slid down the door until she was sitting on the cold concrete floor.
Her entire body trembled.
"Ya Allah..." she whispered shakily.
The warehouse smelled faintly of oil and metal. Tall wooden crates were stacked along the walls, casting long shadows beneath the dim lights hanging from the ceiling.
Aliya stayed there for several minutes, trying to calm her racing heart.
Eventually she stood up slowly.
Maybe there was another exit somewhere.
Or maybe this place was abandoned.
She began walking deeper inside, her footsteps careful and quiet.
Then she heard voices.
Male voices.
Her entire body froze.
The voices grew clearer as she moved closer.
Aliya hesitated.
But curiosity pulled her forward.
She crept through a narrow hallway between rows of crates until she reached a small door slightly open.
Light spilled through the gap.
She pushed it gently.
Beyond it was a narrow upper walkway, like a small balcony inside the warehouse.
Metal railings ran along the edge, overlooking the massive floor below.
Shelves filled with boxes lined the railing.
Aliya crouched behind two of them and carefully peeked through the gap.
Her breath caught.
Below her stood nearly ten men.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Their presence filled the warehouse with a heavy, dangerous energy.
They stood in a loose circle.
In the center sat one man on a chair.
Unlike the others wearing dark salwar - kurtas, he wore a simple white pathani shalwar and kurta with brown leather loafers.
His posture looked relaxed.
Almost careless.
Yet something about him commanded absolute authority.
Even from above, Aliya could feel it.
No one spoke unless he allowed it.
One man said cautiously,
"Bhai, shipment kal raat tak pohanch jayega."
Another added,
"Police ki taraf se abhi tak koi masla nahin hai."
The man in white didn't respond immediately.
He sat there silently.
Listening.
Observing.
Aliya's fingers tightened around the wooden shelf as realization slowly dawned on her.
This wasn't a normal meeting.
These men weren't businessmen.
And the man in white...
He was clearly the one in charge.
A sudden gasp escaped her lips.
Soft.
But in the silence of the warehouse,
It sounded deafening.
Before she could move -
Her hand brushed against one of the wooden boxes resting on the narrow shelf beside the railing.
The box wobbled.
For one terrifying second, Aliya tried to grab it.
But it was already too late.
The box tipped forward and crashed onto the metal walkway.
THUD.
The sound echoed violently through the entire warehouse.
Aliya's heart stopped.
Below her, the conversation halted instantly.
Every man froze.
One of them looked up sharply.
"Kaun hai wahan?" he barked.
Another man immediately stepped forward, scanning the upper level.
"Bhai, upar kisi ki awaaz aayi."
Aliya's pulse pounded so loudly she was sure they could hear it.
The man in white slowly stood from his chair.
Even though his back was still toward her, the movement alone sent a wave of fear through her body.
"Check karo," one of the men ordered.
Two of the muscular men immediately began moving toward the staircase leading up to the walkway.
Aliya's mind screamed.
Run.
Without thinking further, she turned and bolted.
Her footsteps echoed against the metal floor as she ran blindly through the narrow corridor.
Behind her, voices erupted.
"Arre! Wahan koi hai!"
"Pakdo usse!"
Her heart nearly burst as panic flooded every nerve in her body.
She pushed through the first door she saw and found herself back in the dark hallway between stacks of crates.
The warehouse seemed even larger now, like a maze she had accidentally trapped herself in.
Footsteps thundered somewhere behind her.
"Idhar bhaaga hai koi!"
Aliya didn't dare look back.
Her abaya swirled around her legs as she sprinted forward, desperately searching for an exit.
At the end of the hallway, she spotted a faint sliver of light.
A door.
Ya Allah... please.
She ran toward it and pushed it open.
Cool night air hit her face as she stumbled outside.
She didn't stop.
She ran across the open space behind the warehouse, where several vehicles were parked in uneven rows near the docks.
Her lungs burned painfully now.
Aliya's eyes darted wildly across the parked vehicles scattered outside the warehouse compound.
Where do I hide?
Then she saw it.
A sleek black car, parked slightly apart from the others near a broken streetlight.
The back door was slightly open.
For a moment she hesitated.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest.
But the sound of the warehouse door slamming open behind her erased every doubt.
Men's voices burst into the night.
"Arre jaldi dhoondo! Idhar hi bhaagi hai woh! Panjeb ki awaaz sunne ko aayi thi! Zroor koi ldki hi thi"
"Gate band karo! Bahar nikalne na paaye!"
Aliya's breath hitched.
Without thinking further, she rushed toward the car and quickly slipped inside the back seat.
She pulled the door shut carefully behind her.
Darkness swallowed her immediately.
The interior smelled faintly of leather and something sharp , expensive cologne mixed with the lingering scent of tobacco.
Aliya curled into the corner of the seat, pressing herself tightly against the black leather.
Her black abaya blended perfectly with the dark interior, making her almost invisible in the shadows.
She pulled her bag tightly against her chest and covered her mouth with trembling fingers to silence her breathing.
Outside, footsteps approached.
Aliya's entire body froze.
Two men walked past the car, their boots crunching softly against the gravel.
"Kidhar gayi re woh ladki?" one muttered impatiently.
"Pata nahin yaar... shayad piche ki galli mein ghus gayi hogi," the other replied.
Another voice echoed from near the warehouse door.
"Arre andar dobara check karo! Box girne ki awaaz aayi thi!"
The first man glanced briefly across the parking area.
Aliya didn't move.
Not even an inch.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs, but she forced herself to remain completely still.
From outside, the tinted windows reflected nothing but darkness.
Her silhouette blended so perfectly into the black interior that even if someone glanced inside, they would see nothing except shadows.
One of the men sighed in annoyance.
"Lagta hai hawa se gir gaya hoga box."
The other snorted.
"Haan, ya phir koi billi hogi. Itni raat ko kaun aayega idhar?"
They chuckled lightly.
Aliya squeezed her eyes shut.
Ya Allah... bas unko yahan se bhej do.
Footsteps circled the nearby vehicles once more before slowly fading toward the warehouse again.
Soon the voices grew distant.
The metal door slammed shut somewhere behind her.
Silence gradually returned to the industrial yard.
Only the distant hum of Hyderabad's late night traffic remained , trucks rumbling toward the highway, the occasional auto rattling through the old city lanes, and somewhere far away the faint call of a chai vendor packing up his stall.
Aliya stayed frozen in the back seat.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Her hands trembled as she slowly lowered them from her face.
For the first time since jumping from the auto, she allowed herself to breathe properly.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
She had no idea whose car she was hiding in.
No idea where she would go next.
But for now,
She was safe.
At least, that's what she thought.
Aliya remained completely still in the darkness.
Outside, the night had grown quieter now.
She was just beginning to believe the danger had passed.
Then suddenly,
The driver's door opened.
Aliya's breath stopped instantly.
A man entered the car and shut the door with a soft but firm click.
Her heart began pounding violently again.
The interior light flickered for a second before switching off, plunging the car back into darkness.
Aliya pressed her palm tightly over her mouth, forcing herself not to make even the smallest sound.
The man started the engine.
The deep hum of the powerful car filled the silence as the vehicle slowly rolled out of the compound.
Aliya squeezed her eyes shut.
Ya Allah... please save me.
Streetlights flashed across the windshield as the car turned into one of Hyderabad's narrow late-night lanes.
The city was quieter at this hour but still alive, chai stalls glowing under dim bulbs, a few men sitting outside talking lazily, motorcycles speeding past.
Aliya tried to make herself as small as possible in the corner of the seat.
Maybe he wouldn't notice.
Maybe she could escape later.
But the thought barely formed before -
Something cold suddenly pressed against her head.
Metal.
Hard.
Unmistakable.
A gun.
Aliya's entire body stiffened.
Her breathing stopped completely.
The man didn't even turn around.
His voice came calmly through the darkness.
Low.
Controlled.
Dangerously quiet.
"Ya toh seedhi baith jao..."
A brief pause followed.
Then he spoke again.
"...warna aaj ki meri pehli goli tumhari khopdi se guzregi."
Her heart nearly stopped.
"Marzi tumhari hai."
Aliya froze.
Slowly, trembling, she lifted herself from the crouched position on the floor and sat upright in the back seat.
Every movement careful.
Every breath shaky.
The cold metal remained close to her head.
The car slowed and pulled to the side of a quiet lane.
Outside, a small Hyderabadi Biriyani stall was shutting down for the night, the owner stacking plates under a dim yellow bulb.
The man finally lowered the gun slightly but didn't remove it completely.
Instead, he lifted his gaze toward the rearview mirror.
Aliya's eyes met his reflection.
And for the first time,
She saw his face.
His dark hair looked slightly disordered, thick strands falling naturally across his forehead as if he had pushed his fingers through them moments ago. A full beard framed his face dense, strong, and carefully kept giving his features a rugged sharpness that made his expression appear even more commanding.
But it was his eyes that made Aliya's heartbeat quick in fear.
Dark.
Sharp.
The kind of eyes that missed absolutely nothing.
They studied her reflection calmly in the mirror.
Unhurried.
Like a man who was used to being in control.
Aliya quickly lowered her gaze, her heart racing uncontrollably in fear and anxiety.
The man spoke again.
"Ab batao..."
His voice remained quiet but firm.
"Kaun ho tum?"
Aliya didn't answer.
Her throat had gone completely dry.
The man's eyes narrowed slightly in the mirror.
"Chup rehne se situation behtar nahi hone wali."
His gaze moved briefly over the black abaya and niqab covering her.
"Raat ke is waqt..."
His eyes dropped to the bag clutched tightly against her chest.
"...ajnabi mard ki gaadi mein chhup kar baithi ho."
A short pause followed.
Then he added coldly,
"Wazahat toh banti hai."
Aliya swallowed nervously.
"I-I'm sorry..." she whispered.
"Main bas... chhup rahi thi."
The man leaned back slightly.
"Chhup rahi thi?"
A faint, humorless smile appeared.
" Behad Galat jagah chuni tumne."
Silence filled the car.
Then he spoke again.
"Naam."
Aliya hesitated.
The gun shifted slightly again in his hand.
She quickly answered.
"Aliya Farooqi."
The man repeated slowly.
"Aliya Farooqi..."
His eyes moved again in the mirror.
And then he noticed something.
A glimpse of deep red bridal fabric visible beneath the edge of her abaya. Her wrists covered with Heena designs.
One eyebrow lifted.
"Interesting..."
His voice dropped lower.
"Dulhan ho tum?"
Aliya's heart skipped.
Outside, a passing auto's headlights briefly illuminated the inside of the car.
For a split second, both their faces became visible.
Aliya saw his expression clearly now.
Not angry.
Not surprised.
Just... intrigued.
He tapped the steering wheel once before speaking again.
"Achha batao, Aliya..."
His dark eyes met hers again in the mirror.
"Tum meri gaadi mein kaise pahunchi?"
The question hung in the quiet car while the distant sounds of Hyderabad's midnight streets echoed softly around them.
And Aliya realized something terrifying.
She had escaped one danger tonight.
Only to land directly in front of another.
How was the chapter? 😽
