Passionate obsession

Passionate obsession

Author: Alishba gull Bano

The spacious, grand kitchen of Khan Haveli was currently filled with the alluring aroma of spices and the gentle clinking of utensils. A pot of tea was boiling on the stove, and Kiran was carefully stirring it. In the rising steam, her innocent face looked even more radiant. Against her fair complexion, her large, deep brown eyes were clear like an open book, reflecting pure innocence. In those eyes, one could easily read an unwavering love and a genuine, innocent wait for someone. The thick, long black hair cascading over her shoulders added immensely to her simplicity.

After completing her F.Sc, she couldn't pursue further studies, but the universe of her heart now revolved around only one person—Arrham Khan. He was her maternal cousin and her husband, as their Nikkah (marriage contract) had already been performed. However, he had not returned to Pakistan for the past eight years. Everyone said Arrham was stern, quick-tempered, and utterly obsessed with his work, but Kiran’s innocent heart held nothing but an endless wait for him.

"When will you return, Arrham?"

This was the question she asked herself every single day for the past eight years, comforting her heart by remembering Allah and trusting that He would fix everything one day. She often prayed that Allah would cleanse Arrham's heart of all the bitterness he held toward the Haveli.

Meanwhile, as the clock struck seven in the morning, the usual morning hustle began in Khan Haveli. After cooking, Kiran's second major task was to go to her cousins' rooms and announce that morning had arrived and it was time for university.

She walked up to their rooms and called out, "Musarrat, it's time! Don't you have to go to the university? You have an exam today! And Zoya, Khuram, aren't you guys going either?"

"We're going, Aapi! We all have to go to university, don't worry," Zoya replied from inside.

"Oh God, what a chore it is to go to university early in the morning!" Musarrat groaned, pulling the blanket off her face in annoyance.

Musarrat was extraordinarily beautiful with sharp, striking features, but instead of innocence, her face carried a distinct boldness and pride. She absolutely hated wearing a dupatta over her head; she only wrapped herself in it out of fear and respect for the men of Khan Haveli, treating it like an oppressive cage. She was far from innocent. Hiding from the entire family, she had secretly contracted a Nikkah with Faris, her sole objective being to escape the suffocating walls of the Haveli.

People who saw Musarrat's neatly pinned embroidered dupatta and her glowing fair complexion assumed she was the most modest and gentle girl in the Haveli. But they had no idea that behind that exquisite face hid a rebel. Her sharp, deep eyes held a cunning determination and a grand scheme—to flee the Haveli's confinement. It was for this escape that she had played the risky game of a secret Nikkah with Faris. Though she feared her brothers and her family's traditional mindset, she had no idea that this single act of hers was about to alter two more lives forever.

"Aapi Musarrat, this is your final year! You should be happy," said Zoya, whose only job in life seemed to be spreading love to everyone—and loving one particular person above all else. Zoya was both innocent and beautiful, and she was the absolute apple of her brother's eye.

"Aapi Kiran, you go ahead. We'll be down in five minutes," Zoya added warmly.

Kiran was their paternal aunt's daughter. Both Kiran and Arrham's parents had tragically passed away in a car accident during their childhood, after which Daji (their grandfather) brought Kiran to live at the Haveli. Due to that childhood trauma, Kiran was terrified of crowds and large gatherings, which was why she mostly stayed within the comfort of the home.

The vast dining hall of Khan Haveli was rich with the scent of breakfast. All members of the family, young and old, were seated around the table, but everyone's eyes were drawn to the two young men sitting at the head—the pride of both the Haveli and the family business: Zavian and Sarim.

Besides being cousins, they were closest friends. Their business empire was centered in Islamabad, which was why their visits to this ancestral Haveli in Lahore were rare. They only visited once a month, and their arrival never failed to bring the Haveli to life.

Today, both were preparing to head back to Islamabad. Zavian, dressed as impeccably as ever in a tailored three-piece suit with an expensive watch adorning his wrist, sat in his signature stylish manner. He was exceptionally handsome, with sharp features and a thick beard, exuding an effortless aura of wealth and authority. He loved sharp suits, and his eyes always carried the serious focus of a businessman.

Beside him, Sarim looked equally striking in his formal attire, showcasing a robust, well-built physique and a commanding presence. His posture held a quiet dignity that set him apart.

"Zavian, Sarim, son, eat a bit more. The drive to Islamabad is long, and you two only visit once a month. Eat your fill of home food," Malala Khan said affectionally, looking at her son and nephew's plates.

Zavian turned his deep eyes toward his mother, raised his teacup, and spoke in a low yet authoritative tone, "It's enough, Ammi. We have a very important meeting in Islamabad today, so we must leave on time. Right, Sarim?"

Sarim nodded in agreement.

While conversations about their departure were underway, a light whistling sound resounded from the courtyard, and the Haveli’s most pampered, playful, and mischievous boy, Khuram, entered the dining hall. As always, he was late for breakfast, but his face showed not a single shred of regret—only his trademark playful smirk. Khuram's appearance was far more casual and modern compared to his elder brothers, reflecting his spoiled and carefree nature.

He quickly pulled out an empty chair, sat down, and pulled a plate toward himself. "Ah! Look at both Lala preparing to fly off to Islamabad, while nobody here in the Haveli cares about their wedding!" Khuram teased, taking a bite of paratha while winking playfully at Zavian and Sarim.

A sudden silence fell over the dining table. Everyone except Daji, Haziq Khan, and Razaq Khan glared at him. But Khuram was not one to back down.

Nudging both his brothers, he teased further, "Lala, enough with these business meetings! Before heading off to Islamabad, finalize a date to string up the wedding garlands here in the Haveli. You two get married quickly because I'm standing right next in line! I need to get married too, you know! And as for Arrham Lala, who knows when he'll return? Man, you're all Khans, and Khans get married young! You guys have ruined the Khan reputation. Tell me one thing, Daji—don't you wish to see your great-grandchildren playing in this Haveli? You once said you married off Tayajan and Baba when they were twenty! So why not your grandsons? Either your sons were in a huge rush to get married, or your grandsons simply lack the Khan spirit!"

At Khuram's bold remarks, Zavian set his teacup down with an annoyed glare from his deep, serious eyes, while a subtle smirk played on Sarim's lips.

While Zavian glared at Khuram for his cheeky banter, at the far end of the dining table, a deep, solemn expression settled over Grandfather's (Daji's) face. He placed his prayer beads onto the table, the soft clink causing an instant silence to sweep across the hall. Daji looked sternly at Zavian, Sarim, and then Khuram.

His commanding voice boomed, "Khuram speaks the truth. In a house of honorable Khans, marriages are not dictated by age—they happen when the time is right. And remember three things that define the honor of traditional Khans."

Daji emphasized his point by counting on his fingers:

"First: A Khan’s word and his Nikkah wait for no one. A decision made on time becomes the pride of generations."

"Second: The true life of a Haveli comes not from its sons' businesses, but from the steps of the daughters-in-law who grace its courtyard."

"Third and last: Keeping young blood unmarried for too long is not the way of the Khans, lest the rules of the Haveli weaken."

Having stated these three principles, Daji took a deep breath, stroked his thick white mustache, and delivered a decree that instantly shifted the expressions of everyone at the table.

"Therefore, I have made my decision. No further arguments will be entertained, nor will time be wasted running back and forth to Islamabad. Within this very month—yes, within this one month—arrangements for all your weddings will be made! Whether it concerns Arrham, Zavian, or Sarim, wedding drums shall ring in this Haveli!"

Hearing Daji's firm decision, Khuram was stunned with a mix of joy and shock, while Zavian took a deep breath and lowered his gaze. A stir went through the dining table. Daji took his last sip of tea, looked around, and issued his orders:

"Malala, and you too, Dua—both elder women of the Haveli are present here. I have decided that Musarrat will be married to Sarim. They understand each other's temperaments, and this match is best for the Haveli. As for Zavian, start searching for a girl for him starting today. I want his bride in this Haveli within this month!"

Upon hearing Daji’s words, Malala Khan and Dua exchanged glances and smiled, nodding in agreement. Musarrat, on the other hand, felt her blood run cold; her face turned pale. Marrying Sarim meant her dream of escaping the Haveli was buried forever.

At this point, Zavian, who had remained quiet until now, straightened up. Looking toward Daji, he spoke in a low yet resonant voice, "Daji, you have decided for Sarim and me... but how will you call Arrham Lala back to Pakistan? You know he won't return so easily just because we ask."

At Zavian's question, Kiran’s hands froze near the kitchen door, her heart skipping a beat. She too waited anxiously for Daji's answer, desperate to know how Arrham Khan would be brought back.

When Daji heard Zavian's question, a deep, meaningful smile touched his face, as if he had been anticipating it all along. Picking up his prayer beads again, he leaned back against his chair and spoke in a grand tone, "Zavian, son, you know Arrham's temper and his stubbornness. But perhaps you forget whose son he is! I was the one who arranged Arrham's father's marriage too. No matter how big a businessman Arrham becomes, he wouldn't dare defy the soil of the Khans or my command."

Daji paused for a moment, casting a deep glance toward the kitchen where Kiran stood holding her breath. Then he turned back to Zavian. "I will not call him back under the pretense of business or a routine meeting. Send him a message: if he wishes to maintain his relationship with this Haveli, he must reach Pakistan this very week—otherwise, the doors of this Haveli will be closed to him forever!"

Hearing Daji's decisive response, Khuram softly nudged Sarim with his elbow and whispered, "Look at that, Lala! Daji has thought up a foolproof cure for Arrham Lala. A real storm is about to hit the Haveli now!"

Silence fell over the dining table once more, but Daji was not finished. He glanced toward the kitchen where Kiran stood, his tone becoming even more stern and unyielding.

Looking at Zavian, he commanded, "And listen, Zavian—if he still refuses to return to Pakistan and digs in his heels, tell him clearly: 'Arrham Khan, if you cannot return, then grant my innocent Kiran a divorce so I may marry my granddaughter off to someone else!' I will not let my child's life be ruined for a man who has no regard for the decisions of this Haveli!"

The moment the words "divorce" and "marriage to someone else" left Daji's mouth, it felt like a bomb had exploded in the hall. Near the kitchen door, Kiran nearly dropped the teapot she was holding. Her deep brown eyes widened in shock and terror, her heart hammering against her ribs. Khuram’s grin vanished in an instant, and both Zavian and Sarim looked at Daji in surprise. They knew that when Daji said something, he meant it.

On the other side, Musarrat stole a covert glance toward the kitchen. She was inwardly stunned that a storm wasn't just hitting her life—Daji had put Kiran's destiny on the line as well.

Daji picked up his prayer beads, rose from his chair, and without waiting for anyone to speak, walked toward the courtyard with authoritative steps.

Breaking the heavy silence left at the dining table, Zavian and Sarim exchanged a glance. Daji’s decision was final, and now they had to leave for Islamabad. Both stood up; the journey was long, and despite the new storm brewing in the Haveli, their business responsibilities awaited them.

Before leaving, they stepped forward to bid farewell to the rest of the family. Sarim smiled at his dear sister, Zoya, stepping forward to hug her affectionately. "Take care of yourself," he said softly.

On the other side, Zavian called his sister Musarrat over, embraced her warmly, and placed a comforting hand on her head. Afterward, they sought blessings from their mothers, Malala Khan and Dua.

As they were heading out, Khuram chimed in one last time in a low voice, "Lala, start preparing for the brides once you reach Islamabad! Daji has sealed the deal now!" Zavian glares at him while Sarim offered a faint smile and patted his shoulder.

After Zavian and Sarim left, Musarrat, Zoya, and Khuram also departed for university. Complete silence now reigned over the Haveli.

Far away from the imposing, traditional atmosphere of the Haveli, the city's largest university presented a completely different picture. Here, the rules of Khan Haveli held no sway; instead, it was the free world of the younger generation—and in this world, Haya and Hayat held sway. Today marked the absolute final exam of their last semester: Psychology.

Walking down the university corridor in their modern, stylish attire, they effortlessly drew everyone’s attention. Hayat wore a cool t-shirt over jeans, her short haircut complementing her relaxed personality perfectly. Meanwhile, Haya looked no less than a model in her jeans and t-shirt, her striking, knee-length thick hair enhancing her beauty.

Their eyes were a unique, magical marvel of nature. Haya's eyes held a rare light red tint, which added immense power to her boundless confidence and the perpetual attitude adorning her face. Wherever she walked, she captivated people with that proud demeanor and charisma. In contrast, Hayat's eyes were a brilliant light blue, and her personality was much more calm and gentle compared to her sister's.

"Haya, tone down that attitude a bit! It's our final Psychology paper—what if the examiner sees this aura of yours and cuts your marks?" Hayat teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Haya flipped her long hair back with an elegant flick, tossed her reddish eyes proudly, and replied in a haughty tone, "Hayat, whether it's a Psychology paper or any other, Haya's confidence never drops! Now hurry up, let's finish the paper and head home. Today is all about freedom!"

They exchanged smiles and walked toward the examination hall, completely unaware that in the coming days, their calm, modern life was bound to collide with decisions made in an entirely different world.

After finishing the exam, Haya and Hayat walked toward the university’s main gate, laughing and chatting, where their gleaming black car was parked. The two were the absolute best of friends, ready to give their lives for one another.

Flicking her knee-length hair over her shoulder, Haya stepped toward the driver’s side with her signature attitude reflected in her reddish eyes. Hayat smiled, shook her head, and got into the passenger seat.

Just as Haya reversed the car out of the gate, a sudden, loud violent jolt rocked the vehicle—a fast-moving white car had slammed into theirs from behind! The sharp screech of brakes echoed across the entrance. It was the very car carrying Khuram, Musarrat, and Zoya, who had just arrived at the university from the Haveli.

"What the hell!" Haya's reddish eyes flared with rage, her confidence instantly turning into fiery anger. "Don't you know how to drive?!" She stepped out of the car, stomping her feet in fury. Hayat quickly followed her, her light blue eyes wide with surprise.

From the other car, Khuram stepped out looking panicked. Behind him, Zoya and Musarrat opened their doors and exited as well.

Musarrat, who was already deeply distressed by Daji's decision, froze the moment her eyes fell upon Hayat. Her heart skipped a beat. Standing before her was none other than Hayat—the real younger sister of Faris! Faris had shown her a picture of his beloved sister, so Musarrat recognized her instantly. She stared at Hayat like crazy, unable to believe that Faris's sister was standing right in front of her. Her eyes held a mix of fear, shock, and intense anxiety.

Noticing the girl staring at her continuously with an odd, intense gaze, Hayat felt confused. She narrowed her light blue eyes and thought to herself, Why is this girl looking at me as if she already knows me? Hayat found Musarrat's behavior very strange, but she stayed quiet since she didn't know who Musarrat was.

On the other hand, Haya's temper was hitting the roof. "Are you blind?! Can't you see where you're driving? You ruined my car!"

Khuram took a moment to look at Haya's arrogant demeanor before slipping into his usual mischievous self. "Oh, come on, Madam! Cool down! It was just a bump on the car, not a broken heart! And besides, it was your car's fault—it was backing up way too fast."

"How dare you speak to me in that tone!" Haya stomped her foot angrily.

As the argument escalated, Hayat stepped forward and took Haya’s hand. "Haya, leave it. There's no point arguing with him. We're getting late for home, let's go."

On the other side, Zoya pulled Khuram back. "Khuram, stop it! Don't create a scene at the university gate!"

Haya threw one last fierce, haughty glare at Khuram before getting back into her car with Hayat. Khuram muttered under his breath as he turned his car around. Musarrat, still dazed and shaken, walked behind Zoya into the car, her heart pounding furiously. Both cars drove off in their respective directions, but this collision at the university gate was set to spark a storm that neither family could turn back from.

Meanwhile, inside the sleek black Land Cruiser speeding along the motorway toward Islamabad, a heavy silence prevailed. Sarim had his hands firmly on the steering wheel, completely focused on driving, when Zavian's phone screen lit up.

Zavian shifted his deep gaze away from the distant cityscape and put the phone to his ear.

"Speak, Zavian. What is it?"

Arrham Khan's voice resonated through the line—distinctly commanding and cold as ice, capable of making even the toughest people break into a sweat. His tone held that familiar arrogance and authority that was the hallmark of Khan Haveli.

Zavian glanced briefly at Sarim, who slowed the car down slightly upon seeing the call answered. Strengthening his voice, Zavian said, "Lala, Daji's absolute order is that you must reach Pakistan this week at all costs." Zavian paused, taking a deep breath before delivering the final sentence: "Otherwise, he is getting Kiran Bhabhi divorced and marrying her off to someone else."

The moment those words were spoken, time seemed to freeze inside Arrham's tranquil office far away. Arrham Khan set the pen he was holding onto the desk.

A horrifying silence fell over the phone line—a silence so heavy and paralyzing that Zavian and Sarim could clearly hear the faint hum of their car's AC. No reply came from Arrham Khan; only the sound of his breathing grew heavy and sharp, his eyes burning with intense fury—as if this silence was merely the terrifying calm before a massive storm.

(To be continued...)