Tangled Fates

**SIKANDAR HEART OF SHADOWS

sleek black Mercedes pulls up to the entrance of an imposing glass skyscraper. The building, towering above the city, stands as a monument to corporate power.

The Mersedes door swings open, and **SIKANDAR WALI SHAH** steps out. He’s a tall, commanding figure, his typical Pathan features striking tall and a sturdy, muscular build, deep-set, almond-shaped eyes dark brown His dark eyes, deep and intense, scan his surroundings with a cold, calculating gaze. thick, dark hair. His sharp jawline and prominent Adam's apple accentuate his proud, dignified presence. Sikandar's neck, strong and defined, carries the weight of his authority effortlessly. His voice, when he speaks, is deep and dangerous, resonating with an almost tangible power.

As soon as Sikandar enters the lobby, a wave of tension ripples through the staff. The once-busy atmosphere falls silent. Employees who were chatting quickly dispersed, each one rushing to their posts, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and respect.

**RECEPTIONIST** (whispering to a colleague)

He’s here.

The whispered warning spreads like wildfire. The staff scrambles to perfect every detail, from straightening files to adjusting their attire. The air is thick with the urgency to meet his unspoken standards. Just like his name Sikandar ‘the king’

Sikandar strides through the lobby, every step purposeful. His cold, piercing eyes miss nothing. He approaches the reception desk, where the **RECEPTIONIST**, trembling slightly, hands him a stack of messages. He takes them without a word, his expression unreadable.

Sikandar steps into a private elevator, the doors closing behind him. The moment he is out of sight, the staff exhales collectively, the tension momentarily easing.

The elevator doors open to reveal a pristine corridor. Sikandar walks out, passing by rows of glass-walled offices. Inside, employees work with intense focus, stealing nervous glances as he pass.

Sikandar enters his office, a vast space of minimalist elegance. Everything is in perfect order, a reflection of his exacting standards. He places the messages on his immaculate desk and takes a seat. The room is silent, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows.

Outside his office, the staff moves with disciplined efficiency. **JESSICA**, his personal assistant, organizes documents with meticulous care, her hands steady but her eyes filled with determination to avoid any mistakes.

Sikandar opens his laptop and begins working, his focus unbreakable. The weight of his presence permeates the entire floor, a constant reminder of the high stakes.

‘THE FLASHBACK FROM THE PAST’

A younger Sikandar stands defiantly before his father, **SHAHBAZ WALI SHAH**. The room is filled with an oppressive silence.

**SHAHBAZ**

(angry)

You think law school is a joke, Sikandar? This is your future we’re talking about!

**SIKANDAR**

(defiant)

My future, Father. Not yours. I don’t need your approval to prove myself.

He throws his freshly earned law degree on the desk, a gesture of defiance. Shahbaz’s eyes narrow in frustration.

**SHAHBAZ**

(sarcastic)

And what now? Off to conquer another world you care nothing about?

Sikandar smirks, holding up an acceptance letter from a prestigious business school.

**SIKANDAR**

(coolly)

Exactly. Just to show you that I can.

**PRESENT: SIKANDAR’S OFFICE - DAY**

Sikandar’s eyes flicker with the memory, but his expression remains stoic. He deletes a missed call from his father without hesitation, his resolve unshaken.

He leans back in his chair, surveying his domain. The clock ticks steadily, but time is merely a tool for him, another element to master.

**SIKANDAR**

(to himself, coldly)

I don’t need anyone.

*******ADAAH THE DROP OF RAIN **********

And so, with eyes alight with determination and a heart full of dreams, the Wanderer sets forth into the night, guided by the stars above and the promise of freedom on the horizon. For in Istanbul, the city of albatross, anything is possible—even the impossible dream of flying high and free. As she put her pen down As Adhaa gently set her pen down, a sense of restlessness tingled through her fingertips, echoing the yearning that pulsed within her heart. With a sigh, she gathered her lustrous golden locks, weaving them into a bun with practiced ease. Her hair, a cascade of sunshine, held the dreams of a wanderer—each strand a thread connecting her to the vast expanse of the world beyond.In the quiet solitude of her room, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon, Adhaa pondered her insatiable thirst for freedom. she was used to write travel blogs because To her, travel and writing were not merely hobbies; they were the very essence of her being, the wings that allowed her to soar above the confines of ordinary life. With each journey, each word penned, she felt a flicker of aliveness, a reminder that she was meant for more than the mundane.

Having explored every corner of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, according to her, Adhaa knew that it was time to venture beyond the familiar, to seek out new horizons and unlock the secrets of distant lands. That is why she decided to talk to her father to send her away far to explore more As the clock struck 3 am, she reluctantly tore herself away from her musings, knowing that sleep awaited her weary soul.Adaah lazily flopped onto her bed, carefree as she lay upside down, her mind drifting to albatrosses, fields of lavender, and the beautiful countries she yearned to explore. Lost in these whimsical thoughts, she slipped into a deep, untroubled sleep. In her dreams, she was running wild through endless lavender fields, dancing joyfully in the rain, and walking on the seas.

Suddenly, a mysterious force began to pull her back. She tried to run, to free herself, but it was both gentle and irresistibly strong.

The camera pulls back, revealing Sikandar alone in his fortress of solitude, a solitary king ruling over an empire built on fear and perfection.

---

**INT. SIKANDAR’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

The clock on the wall ticks past midnight. Sikandar Wali Shah, tall and commanding, sits behind his immaculate desk, engrossed in his work. The city lights glitter outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a cold glow into the room. His dark, intense eyes scan the computer screen, his sharp jawline set in concentration. His presence radiates authority, the room a fortress of solitude.

The silence is broken by the buzzing of his phone. Sikandar glances at the caller ID and his stern expression softens slightly. He answers the call.

**SIKANDAR**

(smooth, deep voice)

Assalamu Alaikum, Baba.

On the other end is **VILI MUHAMMAD**, Sikandar’s grandfather, the only person who can reach the warmth in his heart.

**VILI MUHAMMAD**

(loving yet firm)

WA Alaikum Assalam, Sikandar. We’re not that young anymore. When will you start living a normal life? Your Bibi is waiting.

Sikandar smiles, one of the very few smiles he’s given today. It’s a rare sight, a glimpse of the warmth and love he holds for his grandparents.

**SIKANDAR**

(teasingly)

Oh Baba, I got so caught up in work that I lost track of time. I’m sorry. I’ll be right back in the speed of an eagle. Close your eyes, and when you open them, I’ll be there.

Vili Muhammad’s voice carries a mix of emotion and sarcasm, tinged with a loving scold.

**VILI MUHAMMAD**

(emotionally)

Yes, Sikandar, but once I close my eyes at my age, I might never open them again.

The words hit Sikandar deeply, making his heart clench as if squeezed by an unseen hand. His mind flashes back to a haunting memory: a loved one lying still, eyes closed forever. The shock and helplessness of that moment still paralyze him. He remembers whispering, begging someone very close not to leave him alone but he couldn't shout and speak to make her stay and since that day Sikandar was not Sikandar anymore he started to stay own his own fully in his own life ignoring the world not letting anyone in anymore.

As he’s lost in thought, another call comes through. This time, it’s his grandmother, **BIBI**, her voice gentle and loving.

**BIBI**

My bacha, come home. I’ve made you kheer.

Sikandar’s eyes soften further, a rare warmth breaking through his cold exterior.

**SIKANDAR**

(smiling)

I’m on my way, Bibi.

He gathers his things, the earlier conversation with his grandfather echoing in his mind. His grandparents are the reason he still lives in Shah Villa, the ancestral home filled with memories—some bright, many painful. Without them, he would have left that place long ago.

Sikandar steps out of his office, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifted by the love of his grandparents. As he heads home, the cold, commanding presence of the corporate king melts away, revealing the loving grandson beneath.

**- NIGHT**

Sikandar gets into his car, driving through the city with a newfound urgency. The warmth of his grandparents’ love guides him, a beacon in the night.

**INT. SHAH VILLA - LATE NIGHT**

Sikandar enters the grand, yet homely, villa. The aroma of freshly made kheer fills the air, a comforting reminder of simpler times and unconditional love. **BIBI** and **VILI MUHAMMAD** wait for him, their faces lighting up as he walks in.

**DINING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER**

Sikandar sits at the dining table, the light of the chandelier casting a warm glow. Bibi brings out a large bowl of kheer and serves Sikandar a generous portion, almost half of the bowl.

Sikandar looks at the kheer, his expression pained. He takes a deep breath, his dark eyes softening as he looks at his grandmother.

**SIKANDAR**

(a little annoyed like a child)

Bibi, I can’t...

Bibi, with a gentle yet firm smile, pushes the plate towards him.

**BIBI**

But you loved kheer, my bacha. Just a little taste, for me.

Sikandar's eyes fill with unshed tears. He used to love kheer as a child, eating it only for the sake of his beloved Bibi. But as he grew older and life became bitter, he abandoned the sweets he once cherished.

**SIKANDAR**

(struggling)

Bibi, I’m not a child anymore. Just now, Baba gave me a big lecture about being grown up.

Bibi’s eyes twinkle with a mix of sadness and affection.

**BIBI**

No matter how much you grow, you will always be my little Sikandar, my prince.

She knows in her heart why Sikandar no longer eats sweets and why he has become so bitter. But in her old age and frail health, making him eat kheer is her way of keeping a little sweetness in his otherwise bitter, tasteless life.

Bibi glances at her husband, **VILI MUHAMMAD**, who looks at Sikandar with a mix of love and sternness.

**BIBI**

(to Vili Muhammad)

Why are you after my child? He has work.

(emotionally)

And Sikandar, you listen. Sometimes being late is okay, but not all the time. You have to come early, for all the days you are here. We are waiting for you.

Sikandar’s heart aches at their words. He knows his grandparents’ love is the only thing that keeps the coldness in his heart at bay. He takes a spoonful of kheer, the sweetness a stark contrast to the bitterness he feels inside. each bite a reminder of the love and warmth that still exist in his life.

**SIKANDAR**

(whispering)

Thank you, Bibi. Thank you, Baba.

The room is filled with a deep, poignant silence as Sikandar finishes the kheer. For a moment, the cold, unyielding businessman is just a loving grandson, finding solace in the warmth of his family.

******ADAAAH****

Struggling in vain, she felt something wet on her nose and cheek, something sniffing her. Fear gripped her heart, but as she opened one eye, she saw it was only her bunny, Akbar, nuzzling her. She smiled with delight, the fear from her dream dissipating. She gently grabbed him, showering him with kisses and cuddles, whispering, "My dear Akku."

"My baby, who would love you more than me?" Adaah cooed as she cuddled Akbar, her bunny. Just then, someone stormed into her room. and who could it be the queen bee of the house her mother, visibly annoyed.

"Adaah, what time is it? When are you going to start living like an adult? Why didn’t you go to your university today? When are you going to take life seriously?" Her mother’s voice was a rapid-fire of questions as she searched through the laundry scattered around Adaah's room. "Look at this mess!"

She was about to continue her lecture when she noticed Adaah kissing Akbar. "Adaah!" she exclaimed, truly angry this time. "What is wrong with you? When was the last time you gave him a bath? He can carry diseases! How many times have I told you, these are animals. Love them, feed them, take care of them, but not like this. You know how sensitive you are, allergic to everything!""Ahhh, Mama, he’s so cute!" Adaah exclaimed, showering Akbar with kisses. Her mother, increasingly exasperated, snapped, "Get up! There are other people in this house. Learn something from them!" She gathered the scattered laundry, her heart heavy with a mix of sadness and concern over Adaah’s persistent childishness.

Adaah, choosing to ignore her mother’s reprimands, drifted back into her memories, recalling the day she first brought Akbar home. Her mother had been livid at first, protesting vehemently against the new pet. But as the weeks went by, her mother’s stern facade softened. She became Akbar’s primary caregiver, tending to him with a tenderness that even surpassed Adaah's. It was her mother who remembered to feed him, her mother who ensured he was clean and comfortable. Adaah often caught her mother in moments of unguarded affection, baby-talking to Akbar and feeding him treats as if he were her own child.

Her mother’s capacity for unconditional love was unparalleled. She was the heart of the family, a beacon of kindness and compassion. No matter how people treated her, she never harbored ill will. Adaah had witnessed countless instances where her mother responded to cruelty with grace, never letting bitterness take root in her heart. As Adaah watched her mother now, a pang of longing pierced her. She wondered if she would ever possess such boundless forgiveness, such unwavering strength.

Adaah sighed and snuggled closer to Akbar, feeling the weight of her mother's expectations mingled with her own insecurities. Her mother’s footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving Adaah alone with her thoughts and her bunny. She looked into Akbar’s innocent eyes and whispered, "Will I ever be like her?" The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as Adaah’s mind wandered back to the comforting embrace of her memories.Ahhh, never! She's mommy, and I'm Adaah. Impatient, yes, but undeniably cute," she giggled, her laughter blending with the playful bounces of Akbar, her beloved bunny. With a mischievous grin spreading across her face like the morning sun, she reached over and flicked on her favorite playlist, the rhythm instantly infecting the room.

**INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER**

The family sits together, sharing stories and laughter. Sikandar’s heart feels lighter, the bitterness momentarily lifted by the love of his grandparents. Bibi and Vili Muhammad look at him with pride and affection, their presence a beacon of hope and comfort in his otherwise turbulent.

INT. SHAHI VILLA - LIVING AREA - NIGHT

The family gathers in the cozy living area after dinner. The air is filled with the warmth of familial bonds, yet beneath the surface, Sikandar's emotions churn like a turbulent sea.

BIBI sits on the plush sofa, her wise eyes observing the scene. VILI MUHAMMAD settles into his favorite armchair, a sense of quiet authority emanating from him.

Sikandar perches on the edge of his seat, his posture tense. He fidgets with his phone, a silent prayer in his heart that his father's call won't disrupt the peace of the evening.

Suddenly, Bibi's phone buzzes with an incoming call. She glances at the screen, her expression shifting imperceptibly. With a soft sigh, she answers the call.

BIBI (cheerfully, but with an undercurrent of concern) Assalamu Alaikum, Shabaz beta.

Sikandar's heart sinks at the mention of his father's name. He braces himself for the inevitable conversation that follows as she was talk silently sikandar anted to get up but bibi hold his habd and with her eyes told him to sit as she past the phone to vali saahab.as wali sshab was talking to shabaz

bibi (hushed, to valii) Don't tell Sikandar's father now,that he will talk to him now too Bibi. It will spoil the mood.as sikanar looked annoyed in his phone to avoid listing to his grandparents conversetion with his father

Vali saab nods subtly,she knewshe should maintain the delicate balance.

BIBI (sweetly) Wali Shaab,tell shabaz Sikandar is here with us. He will call you back in the morning, won't you, Sikandar?

She turns to Sikandar, her eyes holding a silent plea.

BIBI

(playfully, nudging Sikandar) Haai na, Sikandar?

Sikandar hesitates for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. But the sight of Bibi's gentle smile softens his resolve.

****ADAAH***

As the familiar beats filled the air, Adaah couldn't resist the urge to dance. With a twirl and a skip, she moved gracefully around the room, her movements a reflection of her carefree spirit.

as she went dancing carefreely to take a bath.She always loved taking long showers, even if it meant using up the whole house's water supply. Humming happily to herself, she found joy in the simple pleasure of a warm shower.

But then, out of the blue, a sudden thought brought her back to reality. She remembered her dad talking about her visa and passport. With a rush of urgency, she hurriedly abandoned her shower and ran to change.

Bounding down the stairs, she called out for her dad, "Papa! Papa! Papa!" The house staff grinned at her familiar excitement. But when she reached the car porch, her dad was already gone. Frustrated, she groaned, "Duhhh! Uff, Allah!"

She trudged back up the stairs, feeling silly for forgetting. Sitting down slapping her forehead. Allah, stupid, stupid me!" she exclaimed, the sound echoing through the house .th Then she screamed ahhhhhh whyy Suddenly, her mother's voice pierced through the chaos, "Adaah!" With a mixture of annoyance and amusement, her mother approached, shut up ahaad!!. Adaah, , continued to scream again a little scream just to annoy her mom until her mother playfully threatened her with a slipper. A giggle escaped her lips as she darted away, her carefree nature never failing to bring a smile to those around her, even in moments of exasperation.

After the call as much as Sikander hated but he had to act normal in front of his old grandparents so one of the things he always want to avoid his father had already passed away for another topic his marriage but luck was on his side this time bibi said You must be tired, Sikander," she said, her tone gentle yet loaded with meaning. "We'll talk in the morning."

Relief flooded through Sikander like a cool breeze. With a murmured goodnight, he retreated to his room, his steps heavy with exhaustion. Yet, even as he sank into the welcoming embrace of his bed, sleep remained elusive, chased away by the specter of tomorrow's conversation.

As darkness enveloped the room, Sikander wrestled with his thoughts, each one a tangled web of anxiety and apprehension. He knew all too well what Bibi would want to discuss – marriage, the inevitable path laid out for him, one he had long resisted with every fiber of his being.

In the quiet solitude of his room, Sikander plotted his escape, his mind racing with schemes and excuses. But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, fatigue finally claimed him, dragging him into a restless slumber.

In the depths of the night, shadows danced across the walls, mirroring the tumultuous turmoil within Sikander's heart. For tomorrow held not just a conversation the looming specter of a future, he dared not face. And as sleep claimed him, he drifted into a realm where reality blurred and dreams took flight, offering a fleeting respite from the weight of tradition and expectation. He had no time for love and marriage, he was born alone, his childhood was alone and he must live alone too.