𝓐𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓻-𝓮-𝓜𝓸𝓱𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓪𝓽 chapter 5
The entire dining room plunged into an icy, dead silence.
Rehman’s hand froze mid-air, his spoon hovering just inches from his plate. Ulfat stopped pouring the water, her eyes widening Across the table, Yalina’s breath caught in her throat as she instinctively looked at her husband.
Hamza had gone completely rigid. The color drained from his face so fast it left him looking ghostly in the dining room lights. His fingers gripped the edge of the glass table so tightly that the glass groaned under the pressure. Ghar chhod raha hai? The words echoed in Hamza’s mind like a nightmare, a suffocating panic rising in his chest,
Rehman slowly lowered his hand, "Tu... tu kya keh raha hai, Uzair? Yeh kaisa mazaak hai?mazaak band kar aur chup-chap khana kha le," Rehman said, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative tone that usually left no room for argument. He picked up his spoon again, deliberately acting as if the conversation was over, trying to brush the tension away before it ruined the family dinner.
"Bhai, main mazaak nahi kar raha," Uzair said softly, but his voice was as unyielding as iron.
He didn't look down at his plate. He kept his large, expressive eyes fixed on Rehman, though his pale fingers were trembling beneath the table, .
"Uzair!" Ulfat stepped forward, her voice laced with sudden panic. "Yeh tu kya ulti-seedhi baatein kar raha hai? Ghar chhod kar kahaan jayega? Aur kyun? Koi takleef hai tujhe yahaan?"
"Nahi, Bhabhi. Koi takleef nahi hai," Uzair murmured, forcing his face into a calm, polite mask, though his heart was hammering so violently it felt painful. "Bas... mujhe thoda aage badhna hai Office ka kaam toh chalta rahega, lekin main ab yahaan..."
"Maine kaha na, chup kar!" Rehman slammed his hand down on the table, making the porcelain plates rattle. "Bahut par nikal aaye hain tere? Bina wajah ke ghar chhodne ki baatein kar raha hai. Yeh haveli tera ghar hai, aur jab tak main zinda hoon, tu is chhat ke neeche hi rahega. Baat khatam."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Yalina sat perfectly still, her eyes darting between the brothers, but her breath caught when she looked at Hamza.
Hamza hadn't said a single word, but he looked terrifying. His face was entirely bloodless, the veins in his neck were pulsing. He isn't eating. He isn'tn't breathing. He is staring at Uzair.
What happened next shattered the fragile tension in the dining room entirely. No one was ready for it—not Rehman, not Ulfat, and least of all Uzair himself. He had underestimated how much the intense, suffocating stress and the sudden shouting would trigger his body.
Uzair's chest suddenly rose in a sharp, violent spasm.
He tried to draw a breath, but his airway constricted instantly, a severe, unexpected asthma attack locking his lungs. A terrifying, wheezing gasp escaped his throat. The color drained completely from his face, leaving him a ghastly, white.
"Uzair?!" Ulfat screamed, dropping the serving spoon.
Uzair’s hand clutched desperately at his throat, his other arm wrapping tightly around his midsection under his loose kurta to protect his secret, but his strength vanished in a second. The room began to spin violently. The lights blurred into streaks of gold. His head tilted back blindly, his long lashes fluttering as his eyes rolled back, his body going completely limp against the back of the dining chair.
Before Rehman could even push his chair back, a dark blur launched across the table.
Hamza didn't think. He didn't care about Rehman’s presence, he didn't care about his wife Yalina sitting right next to him, and he didn't care about the laws of the haveli. The sight of Uzair collapsing wiped out every shred of his restraint. He knocked his own chair backward, sending it crashing to the floor, and in a single, desperate stride, he was across the room.
"UZU!!" Hamza roared, a raw, animalistic sound of pure agony ripping from his throat.
He caught Uzair’s falling body right before his head could hit the edge of the table. Hamza dropped to his knees, pulling Uzair’s limp, breathless form directly into his chest. His hands were shaking violently, wrapping around Uzair’s shoulders,
"Uzair! Uzair, mere taraf dekho! Saans lo, please saans lo!" Hamza cried out, his voice cracking with a terrifying panic. He held Uzair's tilting head against his shoulder, his face pressed against Uzair’s cheek, completely losing his mind. "Bhabhi, inhaler! Iska inhaler laayein! Jaldi!!"
Yalina stood up instantly, her professional doctor’s instincts kicking in, but as she looked at her husband on the floor, holding his cousin with a desperation that looked like a man saving his own soul. The sheer terror in Hamza's eyes was something he had never shown to her.
Ulfat’s hands were shaking so violently that the small inhaler almost slipped through her fingers as she sprinted back into the dining room. dropped to her knees on the floor beside Hamza, her face pale with terror.
"Yeh... yeh lo, Hamza! Jaldi karo!" she cried out, her voice cracking as she held the inhaler right in front of Uzair’s bloodless, parted lips.
Everyone in the family knew Uzair’s body was fragile. Since he was a little boy, he had traveled from hospital to hospital with a list of health conditions, and this severe asthma was one of the scariest. But it had been years since his last major attack. He had been so stable, so seemingly healthy, that this sudden, violent relapse caught them completely off guard. The shock turned the household's strict authority upside down; Rehman, Ulfat, and Hamza were all thrown into an absolute, unvarnished panic.
"Uzu,saans lo..." Hamza pleaded, his tough exterior completely shattered. He didn't care that his older brother Rehman was standing right above him, watching with a tense, pale face. Hamza firmly took the inhaler from Ulfat’s trembling hand, positioning it against Uzair's lips, and pressed the canister down twice. "Inhale karo, Uzu. Please ."
Rehman was leaning over them, his large hands gripping the back of Uzair’s chair, his authoritative demeanor completely gone. "Uzair! Aankhein khol! Hamza, use seedha kar," Rehman shouted, his own voice laced with a rare, terrifying fear. He had raised this boy like his own son, and seeing him helpless like this is tearing him apart.
Uzair’s head remained tilted against Hamza’s shoulder, his long lashes fluttering weakly against his pale skin as the medicine hit his airways. A ragged, whistling gasp left his throat as his lungs fought to expand. Even in his semi-conscious, breathless state, Uzair's instincts were operating on pure survival; his arm remained locked rigidly over his midsection, his fingers bunching the fabric of his kurta tightly against his stomach, shielding his secret from the three panicked faces surrounding him.
"Rehman gaadi nikalein? Hospital le jana padega!" Ulfat wept, rubbing Uzair’s cold hands, trying to bring some warmth back into his body.
Hamza didn't wait for Rehman’s answer. He gathered Uzair closer into his arms, his chest heaving with a frantic, suffocating terror of his own.
"Nahi... hospital nahi..." Uzair sobbed out, the words a broken, ragged whisper against Hamza’s chest.
The medicine from the inhaler was slowly cutting through the constriction, but his chest was still heaving violently. Tears of sheer panic and physical exhaustion leaked from his tightly closed eyes, wetting Hamza’s shirt. He couldn't go to the hospital. If they took him there, if a doctor examined his body, the secret he had been protecting under his loose kurtas would be laid bare in front of the whole family.
"Uzu, tumhari tabiyat bohot kharab hai, baat mano mera," Hamza pleaded, he tightened his arms around Uzair's shaking frame. He pressed his cheek against Uzair’s sweaty forehead, completely blind to how intimate he was being in front of everyone. "Hospital jana padega."
"Nahi, nahi..." Uzair wept, his weak fingers gripping Hamza's collar with a desperate, strength, his eyes snapping open, wide and filled with an absolute, begging horror. "Ghar pe... mujhe ghar pe rehna hai."
Across the room, Yalina was already halfway out the door, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. As a professional, she wasn't waiting around for the panic to clear. "Yes, this is Dr. Yalina. Please arrange a private room in the emergency wing immediately. Severe respiratory distress, history of chronic asthma, patient is semi-conscious—"
"Yalina, ruko!" Hamza commanding voice cut through the room, stopping her in her tracks.
Yalina lowered her phone slowly, "Woh mana kar raha hai," Hamza rasped, his breathing as frantic as the boy in his lap. "Ghar pe hi check karo isse."
Rehman stepped forward, his face hold worry. "Hamza, hosh mein aa! Woh bimar hai, zidd mat kar, gaadi nikalne de—"
"Nahi bhai!" Hamza shouted, his restraint completely snapped, his knuckles turning white as he shielded Uzair's fragile body with his own broad shoulders. "Ghar pe hi ilaaj hoga. Main kahin nahi lekar ja raha isse."
Yalina stood frozen by the doorway, the phone still humming in her hand. She looked at Uzair, who was sobbing silently into Hamza’s chest and then she looked at Hamza, whose fierce obsessive protectiveness was glaringly obvious to everyone in the room. Her heart squeezed with a cold, devastating clarity, but the doctor in her couldn't let a patient suffer.
Slowly, she disconnected the call. "Theek hai," Yalina said, her voice dropping into a quiet, clinical professional tone "Hospital cancel kar rahi hoon. Hamza, unhe uthao aur upar unke kamre mein lekar chalo. Main apna emergency medical bag lekar aati hoon."
Hamza didn't wait a single second. He scooped Uzair’s fragile body into his arms, carrying him up the stairs with a frantic, terrifying speed. Uzair felt incredibly light against his chest, his head lolling back against Hamza’s shoulder, "Uzu, bas thodi der... kuch nahi hoga tumhein," Hamza muttered like a madman, his voice shaking as he kicked open the bedroom door and laid Uzair down on the bed.
Within moments, Yalina entered the room, her medical bag gripped tightly in her hand. The heartbreak from downstairs was locked away behind a cold, clinical mask. She is a professional doctor now. Behind her, Rehman and Ulfat hovered at the doorway, their faces pale with anxiety.
"Hamza, thoda peeche hato. Mujhe space chahiye," Yalina commanded firmly, her voice steady as she unzipped her bag.
Hamza stepped back reluctantly, but his eyes never left Uzair’s translucent face.
Yalina immediately pulled out her Stethoscope and placed the cold metal chestpiece over Uzair's chest, right through the opened collar of his kurta. She leaned in close to listen to his lungs. The sound was deeply alarming—a loud, high-pitched wheezing , a tight whistling sound that confirmed his airways were dangerously constricted, trapping air inside his chest.
"Air entry bohot restricted hai," Yalina murmured, her brow furrowing. She reached back into her bag and pulled out a pulse oximeter, a small plastic clip she placed on his finger. The digital screen flickered to life, and the numbers made her breath hitch. "Oxygen saturation eighty-eight percent hai. This is dangerously low."
"Eighty-eight?!" Hamza gasped, stepping forward, his hands clenching into fists. "Yalina, kuch karo! Inhaler kaam kyun nahi kar raha?"
"Inhaler severe attack ko rokh nahi pa raha, airways block ho chuke hain," Yalina explained rapidly, already reaching for an she pulled out a sterile syringe and a vial of Dexamethasone, a high-potency injectable steroid designed to force his lungs to open immediately.
With practiced medical precision, she cleansed the skin on Uzair's upper arm and injected the medication. Uzair let out a weak whimper, his long lashes fluttering but his eyes remaining closed, completely exhausted.
Next, Yalina pulled out a manual sphygmomanometer for The Blood Pressure . She wrapped the dark fabric cuff around his pale arm and began to pump it. As she listened through her stethoscope, watching the silver gauge drop, her eyes widened slightly.
"Blood pressure kitna hai?" Rehman asked anxiously from the doorway.
"Seventy over forty," Yalina whispered, looking down at Uzair with a deep, puzzling look in her eyes. "Yeh bohot zyada low hai."
As a medical doctor, she knew that an asthma attack causes stress, which usually spikes blood pressure or keeps it stable. A drop this severe was an anomaly. But there was a biological reason —in early pregnancy, blood vessels expand, causing a natural drop in blood pressure. Combined with the trauma of the asthma shock, Uzair's system was completely bottoming out, leaving him utterly dizzy and faint.
"Iska BP itna drop kyun ho raha hai?" Hamza demanded, his voice thick with a suffocating panic. "Yalina, batao mujhe!"
"Mujhe dekhne do, Hamza," Yalina said quietly. She noticed how, even in his semi-conscious state, Uzair's left hand was still rigidly glued over his midsection, bunching the fabric.
Moving her hands down, "Uzair bhai, apna haath hatao," she instructed softly, gently lifting his cold fingers away.
The moment she pressed her hands onto his lower stomach to check for systemic shock or internal distress, Uzair’s entire body went rigid. Even though baby is only 6 weeks old—too small for her to physically feel through the abdominal wall—the tenderness in his pelvic area was extreme. Uzair flinched violently away from her touch, a sharp, broken sob escaping his lips. He instinctively guarded his stomach, his thighs curling upward slightly a protective reflex.
"Nahi... chhoden..." Uzair whimpered, his voice cracking with a pure terror that didn't match a simple asthma attack.
Yalina paused, her fingers lingering over his lower abdomen. Her brain immediately started connecting the dots—the unexplained severe fainting, the naturally bottomed-out blood pressure, the extreme abdominal guarding, and his frantic desire to avoid a public hospital.
She looked up, her gaze shifting from Uzair’s pale, weeping face to Hamza, who was watching her every move with a breathless intensity. A cold, heavy suspicion began to root itself in Yalina’s chest, making her hands tremble just a fraction.
"Yalina, kya hua hai? Kuch bolti kyun nahi?" Ulfat’s voice cracked , Yalina didn't answer right away. She slowly lifted her hands from Uzair’s lower stomach, her fingers cold, her heart completely hollowed out.
One month. For one whole month, she had lived in this grand, suffocating haveli like a ghost. She had slept alone in a beautifully decorated bed while her husband layout on a sofa, his mind and soul completely occupied by another person. She had tried normal talk, small talk, medical talk anything to get Hamza to look at her, but his eyes only lit up when the name Uzair was spoken. There was no marriage here. There was no future, no love. She had reached her breaking point. She could not take this torture for another single day. She was going to end it tonight, right here, in front of everyone.
Slowly, Yalina stood up from the edge of the bed, her stethoscope hanging loosely around her neck. The cold, analytical doctor vanished, replaced by a woman who had finally run out of patience for a lie.
She turned her gaze away from Hamza and looked directly down at Uzair. Uzair was breathing a little easier now from the steroid injection, his long lashes wet with tears, his pale hand still trembling as he tried to pull his kurta back over his stomach to hide his body.
"Yalina, bolo na! Iska BP kyun low hai?" Hamza demanded, stepping forward aggressively,"Tum chup kyun ho?!"
Yalina ignored Hamza completely. Her eyes remained locked onto Uzair’s terrified, bleeding expression.
"Uzair bhai," Yalina said, her voice dropping into a dead, chillingly calm whisper that echoed in the quiet bedroom. "Aap sabko khud batayenge... ya phir main batayoon?"
Inside the room, the air turned to ice.
Uzair’s eyes snapped wide open, his eyes filled with a paralyzing horror as he looked at Yalina. He froze, she knew. The doctor had connected the dots—the naturally dropped blood pressure, the extreme abdominal guarding at six weeks, the aversion to the hospital.
"Yalina... kya bakwaas hai yeh? Tum Uzair se kya pooch rahi ho?" Rehman stepped into the room, his brow furrowed in deep confusion and rising anger. "Sahi se batao kya hua hai use!"
Yalina finally turned her head, looking at Rehman, then at Ulfat, and lastly, she let her eyes rest on Hamza, whose face was completely bloodless.
"Bhabhi, inka blood pressure isliye drop nahi ho raha ke inhein asthma hai," Yalina said, her voice steady, sharp, and clear. "Inka blood pressure isliye drop ho raha hai... kyunke Uzair bhai pregnant hain."
The silence that followed was not just quiet it was a sudden, violent vacuum that sucked the air straight out of the room.
For a long, second, no one moved. No one breathed. The words hung in the cool air of the bedroom like a curse, heavy and impossible to comprehend.
"Yalina... tumhara dimaag toh kharab nahi ho gaya?" Rehman’s voice finally broke through, cracking with a dangerous, unstable laugh. He stepped closer to the bed, his face twisting in absolute disbelief and fury. "Tum hosh mein ho?! Yeh tum kya behuda bakwaas kar rahi ho ?"
"Mera dimaag bilkul theek hai, Rehman bhai," Yalina replied, her voice chillingly steady, completely devoid of any emotion. She didn't look like a wife who had just discovered a betrayal; she looked like an executioner. "Main ek doctor hoon. Symptoms jhoot nahi bolte. Early pregnancy mein blood pressure drop hona, abdominal guarding, and his frantic terror of going to a hospital... everything fits perfectly. Six weeks, Rehman bhai. He is six weeks pregnant."
"Tum apna muzaffar mu band karo!" Ulfat shrieked, running over to the bed, her face completely pale as she threw her arms around Uzair's trembling shoulders. "Uzair, beta, tu sun raha hai yeh kya keh rahi hai? Kuch bol! Is larki ka dimaag chal gaya hai!"
But Uzair couldn't speak.
Hamza looked like a man who had just been executed.
The phantom premonition that had been clawing at his chest turned into a roaring, blinding reality. His mind spun backward to the secret nights, the breathless encounters beneath him, the raw, physical desperation they had hidden in the dark. Six weeks. The timeline crashed into his skull like a physical weight. Six weeks ago, right before the wedding, before Hamza had accepted the ring, before he had ruined everything.
Yalina pointed a sharp, trembling finger down at the bed. "Poochho aapne bhai se. Poochho inse ke yeh hospital jaane se kyun darr raha thha!"
Every eye in the room snapped down to Uzair.
Uzair looked completely destroyed. The secret had been ripped from his chest, laid out under the harsh, unforgiving light of the haveli. The steroids were making his lungs work, but his chest was heaving with small, broken sobs. He was shaking so violently that the bedframe is vibrating. His eyes were wide, flooded with a humiliating terror as he looked up at Rehman’s darkening face.
"Bhai..." Uzair whimpered, his voice cracking, a pathetic, begging sound. He tried to pull himself backward against the headboard, his pale fingers gripping the kurta so tightly they were turning blue, trying to disappear into the blankets. "Bhai... main... meri baat..."
Rehman’s voice wasn't loud. It was a low, terrifying vibration that made the entire room turn to stone. He stepped past Yalina, his large, imposing figure looming over the bed. The protective, loving older brother who had raised Uzair like a son was gone; in his place stood the pride and wrath of the haveli.
"Uzair, mere taraf dekho," Rehman commanded, his eyes drilling into the weeping boy. "Yalina kya keh rahi hai? Yeh sach hai?"
Uzair couldn't breathe. He couldn't look Rehman in the eye. He just shook his head blindly, tears spilling over his pale cheeks, his hand locked rigidly over his secret.
"MAINE POOCHHA YEH SACH HAI?!" Rehman roared, the sound exploding through the room, He grabbed Uzair’s shoulder, forcefully pulling him forward. "Bolo! Kaun hai woh?! Is haveli ki izzat ko mitti mein milane wala kaun hai?! Kisne haath lagaya tujhe?!"
"Rehman, chhodo use!!" Ulfat said trying to take uzair back in her arms.
Before Rehman could shake him again, Hamza charged forward. With a uncontrollable fury, he grabbed Rehman’s arm, ripping his older brother’s grip off Uzair's shoulder. Hamza stepped directly between them, his broad frame shielding Uzair’s shaking body completely, his breathing ragged, his face wild with an obsession that could no longer be hidden.
"Hamza, peeche hat!" Rehman snarled, his own anger turning toward his younger brother. "Tu iski tarafdaari mat kar! Isne hamari parvarish ko badnaam kiya hai!"
"Maine kaha use haath mat lagao!!" Hamza screamed back, his voice echoing off the high ceilings, terrifying confession in its own right. He didn't care anymore. The house was burning down, the marriage is dead, and Uzair is breaking right behind him. He looked at Rehman with eyes full of madness. "Aap use ek lafzh nahi kahenge! Kisi ka koi qasoor nahi hai ismein!"
Yalina let out a long, trembling breath from the corner of the room, the tears she had been holding back finally glistening in her eyes. There was no malice in her face, no desire to destroy. She looked at Rehman, then at Ulfat, and finally at Uzair, who was curling into himself on the bed.
She had lived in this haveli like a ghost for a month, witnessing the silent torture Uzair was putting himself through, and the slow suffocating death of her own unrequited marriage. She knew Uzair would never speak uphe would let himself break entirely before he betrayed anyone. By laying the truth bare, she wasn't acting out of vengeance; she was unlocking the cage for all of them. She was setting Uzair free from his suffocating secret, and she was setting herself free from a bond that was never truly hers.
"Dekha, Rehman bhai?" Yalina said softly, "Aap gunaahgaar baahar dhoond rahe hain... jabki sab kuch aapke saamne hai. Uzair bhai kabhi nahi bolenge, kyunki yeh is ghar ki izzat bachana chahte hain. Lekin kab tak? Is bacche ka baap koi baahar ka insaan nahi hai... Hamza hai."
The silence that followed was heavy, but the air suddenly felt less choked.
Yalina stepped forward, placing her stethoscope back into her bag with trembling but deliberate hands. She looked at Hamza, whose face was entirely bloodless, and then down at Uzair, whose breath caught as he looked up at her through a veil of tears. There was no anger in Yalina’s eyes anymore only a deep, empathetic pity for the choices they had all been forced to make.
"Maine apna farz nibha diya," Yalina whispered, looking at Rehman whose hand had completely dropped from Uzair’s shoulder. "Ek doctor ke taur par bhi... aur ek biwi ke taur par bhi. Ab faisla aap sab ka hai."
Rehman stood completely frozen, his large frame suddenly looking rigid under the harsh bedroom light. His mind ran backward through the years, processing every single piece of information, trying to force the jigsaw puzzle to fit.
Hamza aur Uzair? His own younger brother and the cousin he had raised like his own son? The secret glances, Uzair's sudden withdrawal over the last month, the loose clothes, the refusal to stay in the same room—everything suddenly crashed into reality. The betrayal didn't come from an enemy outside; it was born right under his own roof, in the shadows of the haveli.
Slowly, Rehman turned his head away from Uzair and looked directly at Hamza. His face was a mask of disbelief and pain.
"Hamza..." Rehman’s voice was dangerously low, trembling "Kya... kya main jo bhi sun raha hoon, woh sach hai? Jo Yalina keh rahi hai... kya woh sach hai?"
The room held its breath. while Uzair hid his face in his hands, trembling violently against the pillows, waiting for the sky to fall.
Hamza didn't flinch. The panic that had consumed him during Uzair's asthma attack had burned away, leaving behind a cold, unyielding resolve. He stood perfectly straight, bridging the distance between his brother and the bed, shielding Uzair with his entire posture. He looked straight into Rehman’s sorrowful eyes.
Without a single word of defense, without making any excuses, Hamza slowly and firmly nodded his head
"Haan bhai," Hamza’s voice was steady, raw, and completely hollowed out. "Jo Yalina ne kaha... woh bilkul sach hai. Gunaahgaar main hoon."
Rehman’s entire body shuddered as the confirmation hit him. The veins in his neck bulged, and a wave of fury washed over his face. For a second, the shock paralyzed him, but then his hand clenched into a heavy, trembling fist. He raised his arm, his eyes burning with a wild, dangerous rage as he took a violent step toward Hamza.
"Rehman! Nahi!!" Ulfat screamed, jolting out of her state of shock.
Before Rehman’s fist could connect with Hamza’s face, Ulfat come throwing her entire weight against her husband's arm. At the exact same moment, Yalina rushed in from the side, her medical instincts entirely overridden by the sheer volatility of the situation. She grabbed Rehman’s other arm, her grip tight and desperate.
"Rehman bhai, please hosh mein aaiye! Ruqiye!" Yalina pleaded, her voice sharp but breathless as she and Ulfat fought to hold him back "Maar-peet se kuch nahi badlega! Pehle hi sab kuch barbaad ho chuka hai!"
"Chhodo mujhe, Ulfat! Chhodo!" Rehman roared, his voice shaking the very walls of the room as he struggled against the two women holding him. He didn't want to hurt them, but the betrayal was cutting him to the bone. He glared past Hamza’s shoulder at the terrified boy weeping on the bed. "Maine is ghar mein isko paala hai! Yeh izzat di hai isne mujhe?! Hamza, tera itni himmat?!"
"Aap apna gussa mujh par nikaaliye, Rehman bhai!" Hamza said back, not moving an inch, his broad chest acting as an absolute shield for Uzair. He didn't even raise his hands to defend himself; he was ready to take whatever beating Rehman wanted to give, as long as Uzair remained untouched. "Jo saza deni hai mujhe dein! Uzair ki tabiyat pehle hi kharab hai, use kuch mat kehna!"
"Tum dono ne hamari parvarish ko mitti mein mila diya!" Ulfat wept bitterly, her arms wrapped tightly around Rehman’s chest to keep him from breaking free, her face wet with tears "Rehman, khuda ke liye ruk jaaein! Uzair ko waise hi saans nahi aa rahi... agar ab kuch aur hua toh yeh ghar ek aur sadma nahi jhel payega!"
Hearing his wife’s broken, desperate tears, some of the manic strength left Rehman’s body, though his breathing remained ragged, heavy, and furious. He stopped struggling, but his eyes never left Hamza’s unyielding face, the silence in the room stretching tight enough to snap.
The violent thrashing from Rehman stopped instantly.
The room plunged into a cold, terrifying silence that felt heavier than his rage.
Rehman slowly lowered his arms, his breathing still ragged, but his face had gone completely dark, his jaw locking into a rigid, uncompromising line. He didn't look at Hamza, and he didn't look at the bed. He kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, his voice dropping into a flat, chillingly clinical tone.
"Yalina... mujhe kuch kaam hai," Rehman spoke, each word falling like ice. "Abortion ka process kya hai? Tumhare hospital mein yeh sab kaise hota hai?"
The words echoed off the high ceilings of the bedroom.
Both Yalina and Ulfat froze instantly. Ulfat’s hands slid off Rehman’s waist, her breath catching completely in her throat as she stared at her husband in absolute horror. Yalina, still holding his arm, felt her fingers go numb. She had laid the truth bare to free them from a lie, but she hadn't anticipated the cold, calculated authority of the rehman deciding to erase a life to protect the haveli's name.
But more than them, Uzair froze.
Behind Hamza’s broad frame, Uzair’s entire world shattered into pieces. The trembling in his limbs stopped completely, replaced by a cold, paralyzing terror that turned his blood to ice. His pale hand, which had been clutching the kurta, slid down to press flat against his stomach, his fingers curling inward protectively. Abortion. The word felt like a physical blade piercing his chest. They wanted to take it away. They wanted to destroy the only quiet, beautiful thing that had come out of his forbidden love.
"Rehman! Aap yeh kya keh rahe hain?!" Ulfat finally found her voice, her throat tight with tears as she grabbed his arm, shaking him. "Aap hosh mein toh hain? Woh ek jaan hai!"
"Izzat se badhkar kuch nahi hai, Ulfat," Rehman snapped coldly, finally turning his sharp gaze toward Yalina. "Yelina, main tumse kuch pooch raha hoon. Tum doctor ho. Mujhe batao kal subah tak yeh sab kaise handle ho sakta hai bina kisi ko pata chale?"
Before Hamza could launch himself at Rehman, and before Yalina could utter a single professional or personal word, a sudden, quiet shift happened on the bed.
His body was still weak, his knees shaking He didn't look like the fragile, helpless boy who had collapsed an hour ago. He stood on his own two feet, his pale hand resting flat and unyielding over his lower stomach, He looked directly at Rehman, his eyes wet with unshed tears but shining with a terrifyingly sharp determination.
"Mujh par kisi ka koi haq nahi hai... ki koi mere liye tay karega mujhe kya karna hai," Uzair said, his voice quiet, flat, but echoing with absolute finality through the frozen room.
Hamza turned around, his chest heaving, his hand reaching out blindly to support him, but Uzair subtly stepped back, refusing to let Hamza touch him. He was standing entirely alone now, cutting his ties from everyone in the haveli.
"Main subah hote hi yahaan se nikal jaunga," Uzair continued, looking straight into Rehman’s rigid face. "Aur Khuda ki kasam... main is ghar se koi paisa, koi kapda, ya kuch bhi lekar nahi jaunga. Ek tinka bhi nahi uthaunga main yahaan se."
A bitter smile touched Uzair’s pale lips for a fraction of a second as he took a ragged breath.
"Tab toh koi pareshani nahi hogi na aapko, bhai? Tab toh is haveli ki izzat mitti mein nahi milegi na?"
The words cut through the room like a jagged blade. Ulfat pressed her dupatta against her mouth, sobbing uncontrollably at the sheer agony in the boy's voice.
Rehman remained absolutely frozen, his eyes widening slightly as the younger brother he had always protected and commanded completely defied him, choosing exile and poverty over letting anyone touch the child .
Rehman didn't say a single word. He stood rooted to the spot, his towering frame suddenly looking exhausted under the dim bedroom lights. He lifted his head and looked Uzair directly in the eye, a silent, heavy gaze passing between them that carried a lifetime of shared memories, unspoken disappointment, and a deep, shattering heartbreak. Without turning back, Rehman silently turned around and walked out of the room.
"Rehman! Suniye..." Ulfat cried out, her voice thick with tears as she hurriedly rushed out behind him, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Now, only Uzair, Hamza, and Yalina were left standing in the quiet bedroom. The suffocating tension of the family confrontation had dissolved, leaving behind echoing emptiness.
Yalina didn't look at Hamza. She stepped past him entirely, her clinical armor completely gone. She walked straight over to the bed where Uzair stood trembling, his hand still protectively clutching his stomach. Slowly, gently, Yalina reached out and took both of Uzair’s cold, shaking hands into her own warm palms.
Uzair lifted his head, his eyes swimming with fresh tears, his face filled with an unbearable guilt as he looked at the woman whose marriage had been ruined because of him.
"Maaf kar dena... sab kuch ke liye, Yalina," Uzair whispered, his voice breaking as a tear finally spilled over his pale cheek.
Yalina slowly shook her head, a soft, incredibly sad but beautiful smile touching her lips. Without a second thought, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a warm, comforting hug.
"Kiski maafi, Uzair bhai?" Yalina whispered resting her chin on his shoulder. "Woh mere kabhi thhe hi nahi... woh hamesha se aapke hi thhe."
Yalina didn't loosen her grip. She pulled back slightly, looking into his tear-stained face with absolute sincerity, her voice completely devoid of any malice.
"Aapko ek baat bata doon? Is nikah ke baad se, unhone kabhi bhi bistar pe kadam nahi rakha. Hamza hamesha sofa pe sote hain," Yalina revealed softly, her eyes clear and honest. "Toh mujhe koi gham nahi hai. Na maine unko kabhi paaya hai, na unko khoya hai. Lekin... maine aapko zaroor paaya hai. Bohot dino se khwahish thi ek bade bhai ki... aaj woh bhi paa liya."
Uzair completely broke down, his head dropping onto Yalina’s shoulder as he sobbed silently, his shoulders shaking.
A few feet away, Hamza stood completely frozen, He looked at Yalina with a profound sense of gratitude and guilt, and then his eyes dragged back to Uzair, who was holding onto Yalina like a lifeline, completely slipping away from his grasp.
"Uzair bhai, aap mere saath chaliye" Yalina said softly, her hands still gently holding his cold fingers, her eyes shining with an earnest, protective warmth. "Aapko koi pareshani nahi hogi. Main rehne ka sab intezam kar doongi. Mera ek chhota sa flat hai hospital ke paas, aap wahaan sukoon se reh sakte hain."
Uzair looked at her, his heart swelling with a deep gratitude he couldn't put into words. Here was the woman he had inadvertently wronged, offering him a shield when his own family had turned their backs.
Slowly, gently, Uzair shook his head. He pulled his hands back, "Nahi, Yalina..." Uzair murmured, his voice a tired, tragic whisper. "Main kar lunga sab kuch. Tumne mere liye jo kiya hai, main zindagi bhar nahi bhoolunga. Lekin yeh mere ladaai hai. Mujhe akele hi chalna hoga."
"Uzair, tum pagal ho gaye ho?!"
Hamza’s voice finally exploded into the room, dripping with a terrifying panic. He couldn't take it anymore. He had stood there like a ghost while his brother threatened them, while yalina freed him, but watching Uzair completely cut all ties refusing even Yalina's help sent a wave of pure terror through his veins.
Hamza rushed forward, crossing the distance he didn't care about the boundaries anymore. He reached out and grabbed Uzair’s upper arms, his grip tight, desperate, and trembling violently.
"Tum kahin akele nahi jaoge! Tumhein samajh nahi aa raha tumhari tabiyat kaisi hai?!" Hamza roared softly, his eyes bloodshot, "Tum bimar ho, Uzu! Aur tumhare andar... hamara hamara baccha hai! Main tumhein is haal mein sadko pe bhatakne nahi doonga! Agar tum yahaan se jaoge, toh main tumhare saath chalunga!"
Uzair didn't flinch. He didn't yell. He just looked up into Hamza’s burning, desperate eyes
"Hamza, mujhe chhoddo," Uzair said, his voice entirely flat, completely devoid of the warmth or love he used to carry for him. "Tumhara haq us din khatam ho gaya tha jab tumne kisi aur ka haath thama tha. Mujhe aur mere bacche ko tumhara zaroorat nahi hai."
Hamza’s grip on Uzair’s arms tightened,
"Tumne ek baar bhi kaha tha mujhe?!" Hamza rasped, his voice cracking, his bloodshot eyes staring down into Uzair face "Mujhe kab pata chal raha hai? Ab pata chal raha hai... sab ke saath! Agar ek baar mujhe bataya hota, agar ek lafzh bol diya hota, toh kya main yeh nikah hone deta?!"
Uzair looked up. The cold, dead emptiness in his eyes suddenly shattered, replaced by a volcanic, rage that had been brewing inside his soul for weeks. He violently ripped his arms out of Hamza’s grip, stepping back until his spine hit the headboard.
"Bolta toh kya karte?!" Uzair screamed out, his voice ringing through the quiet bedroom, thick with tears and a lifetime of suppressed pain. "Chhod dete?! Jaate bhai ke paas? Bata paate sab kuch unhein? Boliyeeee!!"
Hamza flinched his mouth opening but no words coming out.
"Kyun mujhe... kyun hamesha mujhe hi batana padega ke lariye?!" Uzair sobbed, his chest heaving violently as the asthma threatened to claw its way back, but he fought through it, his face turning flushed red. "Kyun mujhe kehna padta ke nikah mat kijiye?! Kyun bolta aapko sab kuch? Aapko khud samajh nahi aaya?! Agar main tab bolta na Hamza... toh aap apne bacche ke liye aate. Mere liye nahi aate!"
Fresh tears streamed down Uzair’s cheeks "Mujhe taras nahi chahiye tha aapka! Mujhe apne bacche ke liye aapki bheekh nahi chahiye thi!" Uzair choked out, his eyes burning into Hamza’s soul with a devastating clarity. "Mujhe aap chahiye thhe... hamesha se sirf aap chahiye thhe. Lekin aapne hamesha bhai ka darr chuna, is haveli ki izzat chuni, Aur aaj jab sab mitti mein mil gaya, toh aap keh rahe hain ke maine bataya kyun nahi?!"
Yalina stood by the window, watching the two of them, her heart aching with a profound, quiet sorrow for the absolute tragedy of their love. Hamza stood rooted to the floor, completely defenseless, Uzair's words stripping away every single excuse he had ever made to himself.
"Tum kaha jaoge?! Kaha rahoge?! Kya karoge akele?!" Hamza roared, his voice completely cracking as he stepped forward again, his hands shaking so violently he had to ball them into fists to hide it. "Tumne apni tabiyat dekhi hai?! Abhi kya hua tha neeche, bhool gaye tum?! Agar main... agar main sahi waqt par nahi pakadta toh kya hota, Uzair?!"
Hamza’s eyes fell down to Uzair’s hands, which were still locked protectively over his lower stomach.
"Tumhare andar ek jaan hai... hamara jaan hai," Hamza pleaded, his tough, rigid stance completely collapsing as he dropped his head, his voice dropping into a desperate, broken whisper. "Akele nahi sambhal paoge tum khud ko, Uzu. Mat karo aisi zidd, khuda ke liye."
Uzair let out a quiet, tired gasp, his back still pressed hard against the headboard. The violent burst of anger had drained the last of his physical strength. His long lashes fluttered weakly,
"Ghut-ghut ke marne se toh behtar hai na, Hamza?" Uzair whispered, his voice dangerously soft, cutting through Hamza's panic like a slow poison."Is haveli mein reh kar har roz .... har roz is sach ko chhupana... main us ghutan se toh mar hi raha tha na?"
"Neeche jo hua, woh is ghar ki ghutan ki wajah se tha. Baahar shayad takleef hogi, bhook hogi, par sukoon hoga," Uzair said, tears silently flowing down into his collar, his voice dropping into a final, decision. "Main jeeyu ya maru... ab tumse koi rishta nahi hai mera. Kal subah is haveli ke darwaze ke saath, tumhara har haq hamesha ke liye peeche chhoot jayega."
The haveli had never felt this terrifyingly quiet.
Outside, the heavy iron gates echoed with the sound of Rehman’s car pulling away. True to her word, Yalina had packed her things within the hour, leaving the house that had been her cage for the past month.
Rehman, his head bowed in a mixture of profound shame and respect, had gone with her to drop her off at her father's house as a man who needed to look another father in the eye and account for the betrayal born under his roof.
Inside the bedroom, the silence was suffocating.
Hamza hadn't moved an inch from Uzair’s side. He sat on the floor right by the edge of the bed, his broad frame hunched over, his head resting against his knees. Uzair lay on the bed, staring blankly at the high ceiling, hadn't uttered a single word to Hamza since his last outburst.
The heavy wooden door creaked open slightly, breaking the dead quiet.
Ulfat slowly entered the room, her eyes red and swollen from crying. In her trembling hands, she held a warm glass of milk, the steam rising softly into the chilled air of the room. She looked at Hamza’s ruined state on the floor, then at Uzair lifeless face on the pillows.
"Uzair..." Ulfat spoke softly, her voice cracking as she walked over and sat on the very edge of the mattress. She ignored Hamza entirely, her focus solely on the fragile boy. "bacha... yeh thoda sa garm doodh pee lo. Apne liye nahi... toh kam se kam..."
She choked on her words, her gaze falling gently toward his lower stomach, Despite the shock of the scandal, her maternal instincts had completely taken over.
Uzair’s long lashes fluttered, but he didn't turn his head to look at her. "Bhabhi, maine kaha na... main subah chala jaunga," he whispered, his voice incredibly weak, entirely devoid of life. "Mujhe kuch nahi chahiye."
"Tum kahin nahi jaoge!" Hamza’s voice rasped from the floor, raw and desperate as he finally lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Uzair. "Bhabhi, isse kahein yeh zidd chhod de. Yeh is haal mein baahar akele nahi ja sakta!"
Ulfat closed her eyes, a tear escaping and splashing onto her hand. She placed the glass on the nightstand and gently reached out, placing her warm hand over Uzair's cold forehead to check his temperature.
"Hamza, tum chup raho," Ulfat said quietly, she looked down at Uzair. "Uzair... tumne hamesha mujhe apni maa ki tarah samjha hai na? Kya tum apni is maa ko chhod kar chale jaoge?"
Uzair didn't say a single word. He didn't even shift his gaze from the blank ceiling.
When Ulfat gently pushed the warm glass of milk a fraction closer to him, Looking at his hollow, unwavering expression,
She knew right then that no amount of motherly pleading, tears, or appeals to the past would tear him away from his decision. The fragile, compliant boy who used to do whatever the elders asked had died the moment his secret was exposed.
A fresh sob broke from Ulfat’s throat. She slowly drew her hand back, her shoulders slumping as she realized that the ties binding this family together had snapped beyond repair. She picked up the untouched glass of milk from the nightstand, her fingers trembling against the warm glass.
"Theek hai..." Ulfat whispered, her voice thick and as she stood up from the bed. "Agar tumne... agar tumne apna dil patthar kar hi liya hai, toh main kuch nahi boloongi."
"Bhabi, aap ja rahi hain?!" Hamza scrambled up from the floor, He caught her sleeve, his voice dripping with a wild, frantic panic. "Aap samjhayein na isse! Yeh sach mein chala jayega subah! Bhabi, please!"
Ulfat slowly turned her head, looking at Hamza She gently pulled her sleeve out of his desperate grip.
"Ab main kya samjhaoon, Hamza?" Ulfat said softly, her voice echoing in the dead quiet of the room. "Jo nuksaan hona tha, woh tum donon ne kar diya. Ab sirf subah ka intezar hai."
With that, she turned and walked out of the room, her footsteps fading down the long hallway, leaving the two of them alone with the ticking clock counting down the hours until dawn.
The harsh, unyielding morning light pierced through the heavy curtains of the haveli at exactly 8:00 AM. Nobody had slept. The entire house felt like a tomb, heavy with the suffocating weight of an impending end. Downstairs, Rehman sat rigidly in the dark study, staring blankly at the wall, his eyes bloodshot and hollow.
Upstairs, the quiet rustle of fabric broke the silence.
Uzair was standing by the wardrobe, his face a ghostly shade of white, his dark circles prominent against his skin. He is methodically packing his life into a single bag. With calm, agonizingly slow movements, he folded his few simple kurtas and placed them inside. Next came his vital necessities—his asthma inhalers, the spacer, and the prescription medications he would desperately need to survive on his own.
Then, he moved to the small wooden drawer near the bedside. He pulled out his essential documents, his birth certificate, and a small, faded plastic folder. Finally, his hands trembled just a fraction as he reached for the very back of the drawer. He pulled out a small, dusty silver frame a rare, cherished photograph of his mother and father standing together, smiling in a world that had long since vanished. He touched the glass gently with his thumb before wrapping it in a soft shawl and placing it safely at the very bottom of the bag.
"Uzair... ruk jao... mat karo yeh, main haath jodta hoon tumhare aage..."
Hamza’s voice was completely broken, a ragged, pathetic whisper from the edge of the bed. He looked completely ruined, his hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, and his face soaked with dried tears. For the last two hours, he had been trying his absolute best to stop everything.
Every time Uzair put a kurta into the bag, Hamza’s trembling hands would reach out, frantically pulling the fabric back out, begging, crying, and pleading.
"Uzu, meri taraf dekho... tum akele nahi ja sakte," Hamza cried out, grabbing Uzair’s wrist desperately, his voice cracking with a terrifying panic as he tried to physically come between him and the bag. "Tumhara poora badan kaap raha hai! Tumne kal raat se ek niwala nahi khaya! Tum baahar ja kar mar jaoge... aur hamara baccha... Uzu, please, ek baar Rehman bhai se baat karne do mujhe, main unke pair padne ko tayyar hoon!"
Uzair slowly, deliberately pulled his wrist out of Hamza’s tight grip. He didn't yell. He didn't look at him with anger. He just pulled the zipper of the bag shut, the sharp metallic sound echoing like a death knell in the quiet room.
"Maine kaha tha na, Hamza... mera faisla badal nahi sakta," Uzair whispered, "Mera rasta chhod do."
Uzair stepped past him, his steps heavy but unhesitating, and walked out of the bedroom. The heavy strap of the bag dug into his frail shoulder, but he didn't look back. He headed straight for the staircase, intending to walk out of the haveli's heavy front doors forever.
"Uzair! Suno toh... Uzair!" Hamza panicked, stumbling over his own feet as he scrambled out of the room, running desperately down the hallway after him.
As they descended the wide stairs, the bitter, crushing irony of the moment hit Hamza,
When they were kids, running down these exact same steps, Uzair would always run ahead, laughing and Hamza would always chase after him, laughing just as loud, shouting to slow down so they could play in the courtyard. Back then, Hamza was chasing him out of pure, innocent love, fully knowing that no matter how fast Uzair ran, he would always turn around, smile, and let Hamza catch him.
But today, the laughter was dead.
Today, Hamza was chasing a shadow. He was running behind a boy whose heart he had broken, a boy who was carrying his child fleeing from the very home that was supposed to protect him. Uzair wasn't running in play; he was running for his survival, his face detached, completely refusing to turn back.
"Uzu, please! Ek baar mera baat sun lo!" Hamza begged, his voice echoing off the high ceilings of the ancestral hallway as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his hands reaching out blindly to grab the edge of Uzair’s bag, desperately trying to anchor him to the spot. "Mat jao... main mar jaunga tumhare bina!"
As Uzair reached the bottom of the stairs with Hamza frantically clutching at his bag, his footsteps slowed.
There, in the center of the hallroom, sat Rehman.
He is slumped in his heavy armchair, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night, staring blankly at the floor. He didn't look up when the footsteps approached. Beside him stood Ulfat, her dupatta pressed tightly against her mouth as she sobbed quietly, the muffled sounds of her weeping filling the vast, empty room.
The sight of the elders made Hamza drop his knees to the polished marble floor right there behind Uzair, his fingers still desperately hooking into the strap of Uzair's bag.
"Bhai... kuch boleiyen!" Hamza begged, turning his frantic, tear-stained face toward Rehman. "Samjhayein isse! Yeh sach mein ja raha hai! Bhai, aapka hukum toh yeh hamesha maanta hai na? Ek baar keh dein isse ke yeh nahi ja sakta! Mujhse jo saza chahiye le lein, par isse mat jaane dein!"
Rehman didn't move. He didn't look at Hamza, nor did he look at the heavy bag hanging from Uzair’s frail shoulder. The silence from the armchair was absolute, cold, and final. Rehman had given Uzair his silent answer the night before, and his pride the dignity of the haveli would not let him beg now.
Uzair stood perfectly still in the middle of the hallroom. He looked at Rehman’s bowed head, then at Ulfat’s tear-filled eyes. A final, sharp pang of heartbreak shot through his chest, making his breath hitch slightly, but he forced himself to stay rooted.
"Bhabi... Bhai..." Uzair’s voice was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of the goodbye. "Main ja raha hoon. Apna khayal rakhiyega."
Ulfat’s sobs grew louder, her entire body shaking as she looked at the fragile boy she had raised, now walking out into the cold world entirely alone .
The heavy front doors of the haveli clicked shut, a sound that resonated through the grand hallroom like a final, definitive heartbeat. Uzair is gone. The boy who had spent his entire life in the shadows of this house, carrying their secrets and their expectations, had walked out into the blinding morning light, entirely alone.
Hamza stayed on his knees for what felt like an eternity, his fingers still curled in the empty air where Uzair’s bag strap had just been. He was completely frozen, his breath hitching in his chest, his mind refusing to process the reality that the doors had actually closed. The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the fading, muffled sounds of Ulfat’s quiet weeping.
Slowly, agonizingly, the numbness in Hamza's limbs turned into a cold, hollow reality. He gathered whatever strength he had left and rose to his feet. His body felt heavy, like lead, and his mind was completely blank.
He slowly turned his head back toward the center of the hallroom.
Hamza looked back at Rehman.
His bloodshot eyes locked onto his older brother, the man who had always been the ultimate authority, the protector, the shield of this family. But looking at Rehman now slumped in that heavy armchair, his head still bowed, his hands gripping the armrests —Hamza didn't feel the usual fear or respect. He felt a devastating, hollow emptiness.
"Chala gaya woh..." Hamza’s voice came out as a dead, chillingly quiet whisper, his lips barely moving. "Aapki izzat bach gayi na, bhai? Poori haveli saaf ho gayi."
Rehman’s shoulders tensed he refused to lift his gaze to meet his younger brother's eyes. The pride that had built the haveli was now the very thing keeping them pinned under its ruins.
Hamza let out a hollow, bitter breath, a single tear cutting through the dust and dried sweat on his cheek as he took a slow step back, completely detached from the family he had destroyed himself to please.
The dusty, chaotic streets of Lyari were a sharp contrast to the suffocating quiet of the haveli. The morning sun was already burning hot, and the noise of rickshaws, shouting vendors, and heavy traffic buzzed all around.
Uzair walked slowly, clutching the heavy strap of his travel bag . He knew exactly where he was going. He knew that outside the elite walls of their estate, the name "Rehman Baloch" carried immense weight—both as a shield and as a target. Wherever he went, people would offer him shelter, money, or food just to get into the good books of the Baloch family, or worse, use him as a pawn against his brother.
But Uzair wanted nothing to do with that dangerous title anymore. He wanted to disappear.
He navigated the narrow alleys until he reached a familiar, weathered corner of the market. There sat an old, modest juice shop, its paint chipping away, the familiar hum of the heavy blenders echoing into the street.
This was the shop of Alam Bhai. Alam knew exactly who Uzair is he knew he is Rehman Baloch’s cousin brother—but Alam was a man of pure heart, completely detached from the underworld politics and power struggles of the city. To him, Uzair was just the polite, soft-spoken boy who used to visit years ago.
As Uzair stopped just outside the shop, his breathing slightly shallow from the walk, Alam Bhai spotted him through the glass counter.
Alam’s eyes widened in immediate surprise. He wiped his hands hastily on his apron and hurriedly came out of the shop, rushing toward the fragile boy.
"Uzair bete? Tum yahaan?!" Alam asked, his face etched with genuine concern as he looked at Uzair’s pale, exhausted face and the heavy bag on his shoulder. "Sab khairiyat toh hai na? Is waqt akele... aur yeh saaman?"
Uzair looked up at the older man's honest, warm face. For the first time in weeks, the cold guard around his heart slipped just a fraction. A tired, incredibly gentle smile touched his pale lips.
"Alam bhai..." Uzair spoke softly, his voice cracking slightly from exhaustion. "Mujhe kuch kaam milega? Rehne ki thodi si jagah chahiye... aur do waqt ki roti chahiye. Mil jayega?"
Alam froze, He didn't ask questions. He didn't ask why a prince of the Baloch family was begging for a roof and a meager wage on the streets of Lyari. He just saw a broken child in desperate need of a sanctuary.....
