I Found You Again

Haider Baksh sat alone on a chair in his bedroom.

The room was wrapped in darkness. He had switched off the lights hours ago; brightness had become unbearable. After relentless crying, his eyes were swollen, raw, aching. He had chosen the dark deliberately, nurturing the foolish belief that if the room became dark enough, it might resemble the darkness that had already consumed his soul. It might pain lesser.

His world was dark.

His thoughts were darker.

And he was alive without knowing why he continued to breathe.

A single red candle flickered weakly near the window, its flame trembling as if it too struggled to survive. In its faint glow rested a photo frame on the study table.

Meher Mansoor.

She was smiling in the picture; soft, luminous, devastatingly beautiful. Her eyes held warmth and trust. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, still carrying the memory of that rainy evening when he had pulled her into a tight embrace before capturing the photograph. That smile... it had once belonged to him alone.

His chest tightened. Tears threatened again, but he clenched his fists and forced himself to breathe. He could not afford to shatter, not today. Meher would not have liked it.

Today would have been her twenty-fifth birthday. In the silence, his voice broke as he sang 'Happy Birthday To You' very softly, the last note dissolving into emptiness.

He stared at her photograph, fingers twitching with the instinct to reach out. He would have traded everything, his empire, his power, his very existence just to hold her once more, even for a single heartbeat.

Grief was a different kind of enemy. Haider had survived bullets, bloodshed, betrayal. But this... this hollowing ache was dismantling him from within.

He closed his eyes.

And there she was. Vivid in his heart and memory.

~ Rain pouring around them. He had shown up drenched, reckless as ever. Meher had scolded him softly, worry clouding her beautiful eyes.

"It's raining. Why did you come?" she had asked, brushing water from his hair with trembling fingers.

"It's your birthday," he had replied. "How could I stay away?"

Instead of answering further, she had wrapped him in a tight embrace and he shielded her from the rain though he himself was already soaked. She had pressed her face against his chest, murmuring that he would fall sick. He had smiled because she cared for him like no one else did. She loved him like no one could imagine. In her embrace he felt complete. ~

The memory dissolved.

"Boss! Boss! She escaped!"

The door burst open. Lights flooded the room. Haider's eyes snapped open, cold and lethal.

The trembling man before him stammered an explanation that there was a mistake due to their carelessness.

"She requested to use the washroom for a few moments and then she was gone", the man admitted.

"You were insincere," Haider said quietly. The calmness in his voice was more terrifying than rage. The revolver felt steady in his hand.

"We were keeping an eye", the man said, trembling.

"You were doing shit", Haider's voice was dangerously calmer.

"What if I mistakenly empty this revolver into your head?"

The man could only stammer, not a complete word forming on his lips.

"I had left my prey to you and what you did? Lost her?"

The man bowed, accepting fault.

"Find her," Haider ordered. "Six bullets. All to the head. Bring me proof of her dead body. I dont want her alive anymore"

Before the man could leave, another voice intervened.

"Wait."

His sister, Zoya, entered the room - arms crossed, gaze sharp.

"How old is she?" she asked the guard.

"Twenty-five, perhaps."

"Don't kill her."

Haider stood instantly. "Stay out of this."

Zoya stepped closer, unafraid. "You think revenge will bring peace?"

"You don't understand," he snapped. "I died the day Meher slipped from my arms. I am breathing because hatred keeps me alive."

Zoya's hand pressed against his chest gently. "Today is her birthday. Would she want this? The girl you captured is innocent."

He removed her hand slowly.

"They destroyed Meher through greed. I will destroy what they love."

The order was final.

Soon, the jeep rolled into the forest, its tires sinking into the wet mud as they followed the trail of fresh footprints. They had been tracking them for hours, yet there was still no sign of her. Each passing second gnawed at Haider's patience. The anger inside him simmered, building steadily, threatening to spill over. If his men failed to catch his prey, he was prepared to burn this entire forest to the ground just to flush her out.

"Stop," Haider ordered through clenched teeth.

The jeep screeched to a halt.

"Everyone, get down and spread out," he barked. "Bring that girl to me. She must not have gone far. I will deal with her myself."

The men jumped out of the vehicle and dispersed into the darkness. At that moment, a deafening roll of thunder echoed through the sky, followed by a bolt of lightning that split the air apart. Leaning against the jeep, Haider looked up. Heavy clouds loomed overhead, thick and restless, warning of an imminent downpour.

A few drops of cold and sudden rain fell. They slid down his cheeks and soaked into the collar of his turtleneck sweater. The storm was coming, and so was the reckoning.

The sky had already opened up, rain pouring down relentlessly. Haider was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered how thoroughly soaked he had become. Water clung to his clothes, seeped into his skin, weighed him down. Deciding it was useless to stand there any longer, Haider turned towards his jeep, intending to wait out the downpour.

That was when he sensed movement behind him.

Haider turned instantly, straining to see through the curtain of rain. The bushes shifted slightly, too deliberate to be the wind.

Someone was there.

Realization struck within a second. His prey was close. One clean shot, and it would be over.

He slipped his revolver from inside his coat and began moving forward with slow, controlled, deliberate steps. He could have fired from where he stood; he never missed his target. Yet something unseen, something unfamiliar, restrained his finger. That same inexplicable force compelled him forward instead, towards the faint rustling that disturbed the trembling bushes.

He stepped closer, then shifted slightly for a clearer view.

Curled upon the muddy ground was a small figure. A young lady sat with her legs drawn tightly to her chest, her head buried between her knees. She had folded into herself as though trying to disappear from the world. Her clothes were drenched, clinging uncomfortably to her fragile frame, and her entire body shook violently from the cold.

Haider's jaw tightened. He raised his revolver and pressed the barrel against her temple.

The figure stiffened. Her neck was exposed and in that instant, everything shattered. Three small black moles.

Haider's hand began to tremble. His fingers refused to obey him. With terrifying certainty, he knew he would never be able to pull the trigger.

Not in this lifetime. Not ever.

The young woman slowly lifted her head and looked up at him. Haider stopped breathing.

The rain blurred his vision, mingling with unshed tears as the world around him seemed to freeze. Time stood still. He remained rooted to the spot, staring down at her as though turned to stone.

She spoke, her voice barely audible over the downpour.

"Please... spare me. I didn't hurt anyone. Please take me to Haider Baksh. I came here to meet him. Please."

She broke down, sobbing.

Disbelief crashed over him. The revolver slipped from his hand and fell at her feet. He felt no regret. Even if she picked it up and shot him in the next moment, he would not have resisted.

Seeing the weapon on the ground and him standing unarmed before her, she gathered what little courage she had left and struggled to her feet.

"I didn't do anything," she pleaded, folding her trembling hands together. "Please save me. Take me to Haider Baksh. Do me this one favour. They'll kill me. I just want to see him."

Haider remained silent, unable to look away as she stepped closer, desperation carved into every fragile movement.

"They're after me," she whispered. "Are you too? I'm not your enemy. It took me so long to find out that Haider Baksh lives here. I didn't escape - I swear. I just want to meet him once. Please... just once."

She was looking directly at him. And she did not recognize him.

Her body trembled uncontrollably. Her voice faded. Her eyelids fluttered as exhaustion overtook her.

"Haider... Haider Baksh... I want-"

And then she collapsed.

Haider 's mind went blank. He could not think, could not process anything at all. His body felt frozen, unresponsive. Yet instinct moved where thought failed. His arms reacted on their own, catching the fragile figure as she fell forward into him.

He sank to the ground with her in his arms, cradling her protectively as she lay unconscious against him.

He stared at her face, his chest tightening with every detail he absorbed. Her forehead was bleeding likely from the falls she had taken while trying to escape. Her cheeks and lips were bruised, as if struck harshly. One earlobe was torn and bleeding.

Her clothes were filthy, soaked with rain and heavy with mud. Dark marks circled her wrists, bruises left by ropes, by captivity, by the basement of his own house.

His men had been ordered to kidnap Mr. Qureshi's daughter. They had brought this young lady to him two days ago. On his command, she had been denied food. Denied water. Left to starve.

The frail body resting in his arms had endured it all in silence, and he had not even bothered to look at her once. Not once had he gone down to see the person dragged from her home on his orders.

He had intended to kill Mr. Qureshi's daughter.

He had wanted the entire family to suffer. They were responsible for the premature death of the woman he loved, the woman whose life had been destroyed through greed and deception, a murder disguised as an accident. They had escaped the police. Escaped the law.

But Haider Baksh did not operate under courts or legal systems. He made his own laws. He ruled his own empire.

And he had sworn he would not die before tearing their world apart. But his men had made a mistake.

Instead of kidnapping Mr. Qureshi's daughter, they had brought his niece.

They had brought Meher Mansoor

The woman he adored beyond reason.

The woman he cherished more than his own life.

The woman with whom he had dreamed of living a hundred lifetimes.

The woman who completed him, who had claimed his soul without effort.

She was his light. His strength. His world.

She lay there in his arms - the love of his life.

The woman who had stolen his heart.

The woman who held its only key.

The woman he had mourned for nine months, believing her dead after the tragedy that had shattered his existence.

Meher Mansoor.

The only person who had ever possessed the unthinkable ability to tame Haider Baksh - the man the world feared.

And there she was. Real. Warm. Heartbreakingly fragile.

He bent over her instinctively, shielding her from the relentless rain, holding her tightly against his chest as though protecting even an inch of her skin mattered more than his own life.

She was alive.

And in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

Meher Mansoor was alive.

Her presence nourished him more than air ever could. Overwhelmed, intoxicated by the sheer magnitude of it, he felt the most powerful force he had ever known surge through him again. She was there, safe within his arms and beyond that truth, nothing else existed.

His men spotted them and came running, guns instinctively raised toward the unconscious young woman resting against him.

"Boss... this is her. You found her. Is she dead?"

Dead!! The word struck him like a blade.

Fear unlike anything he had ever known clenched his heart. Yet his senses remained anchored to her. He could see her chest rising and falling - slow, steady. He could feel her breathing. Someone had already opened an umbrella above them, shielding her from the rain.

He spoke calmly, though every word carried lethal authority.

"Inform everyone immediately this person is not to be touched. If any of you so much as lay a finger on her, I will burn the offender alive. Is that understood?"

The part of him that had always existed solely to protect Meher resurfaced - uncompromising, feral, unwavering. He had been careless once. Just once. He had shifted his focus away from her.

That single mistake had cost him nine months of unbearable agony; pain greater than ten lifetimes combined.

Holding her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her instinctively, he did what he had always done when it came to her. Protecting.

His men were visibly stunned by his sudden reversal, but they bowed without question. They respected him. They knew he was ruthless, strict, often merciless but they also knew his loyalty was absolute.

Haider slowly stood, one arm supporting her back, the other cradling her legs, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

She was light. Too light.

She had lost weight. Her body felt fragile, exhausted, starved, far too weak for the woman he remembered.

Nothing made sense.

For nine months, he had lived in agony, grieving the woman he believed dead. And now she was here, alive, searching for him, calling his name, while standing right in front of him without recognizing him.

The realization unsettled him deeply.

For a fleeting moment, his mind searched for impossible explanations... an illusion, a deception, a cruel trick.

But he knew. The woman in his arms was Meher.

He could never mistake her, not her presence, not her scent, not the way her body fit against his as though they had been created for each other. His body recognized hers long before his mind could question it.

As he lifted her, she instinctively leaned into him, resting against his shoulder as she always had. Even unconscious, her arms curled weakly toward his neck, clinging to him out of habit as though some part of her still knew she was home.

His entire world was in his arms. Everything else faded into nothing.

Haider Baksh walked toward the jeep, every sense focused solely on the woman he carried, struggling to comprehend the impossible truth that Meher was real. Alive. Back with him.

And this time, he would never let her go.

To Be Continued...