Summary - Rehman hasn't been home properly for four days so when he doesn't come home even on the fifth night, you go to the factory.
[ Disclaimer - This is a fanfiction based on the Indian movie franchise - Dhurandhar. Characters in this fic are based on the fictional versions depicted in the movie and not their real life counterparts. All the characters (except y/n) belong to the makers of this movie. ]
Warnings - smut
Based on this request
masterlist
The glass door to Rehman's office groaned when you kicked it open, the sound echoed through the empty factory.
Rehman looked up as you stood at the doorway with your hands on your hips.
Your brows were knitted and lips drawn in a thin line.
You looked very disappointed.
“Jaan?” He said, crossing the distance between you in quick strides.
He tried to cup your cheek but you just swatted his hand away.
“Kya hua?” He asked.
Your frown deepened.
“Kya hua? Chaar din se ghar ki yaad nahi aayi tumhe? Ab pooch rahe ho ki kya hua?” You said, punctuating each word with a light smack on his chest.
“Itna boora kya kiya maine? Ki tumne ghar aana hi band kiya? Haa? Bolo?” You yelled.
He caught a hold of your wrists, stopping you from hitting him.
He gently held them together. Tugging you closer and then pulled you into his chest.
You protested against it but he simply held you there, eventually his warmth subsided your anger.
“Meri jaan…” he whispered into your hair.
“Maaf kar dena…aaj kal kaam bohut ho gaya. Sorry jaan.”
“I missed you so much. Aap call bhi nahi utha rahe the. Mujhe laga maine kuch galat kar diya…mujhe laga aap mujhse naraaz hai.” You said.
He pulled away a little to look at your face and placed his hand on your cheek, brushing away the stray strand from your face.
“Kabhi nahi, main tum se kabhi naraaz nahi ho sakta.”
Then he placed a gentle kiss on your lips.
It was slow and soft, he let out a quiet sigh when you responded. Your lips moving with his.
He wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you even closer if that was possible. You placed your hands on his chest over the smooth expanse of his kurta. He removed the dupatta from your shoulders, it fell onto the floor.
Then the kiss turned deep with a quiet desperation. The quiet of the factory enveloped them.
Then, the shrill ring of the phone made you pull apart.
Your hands fell to your sides, he let out a groan before he took the phone out of his pocket and threw it across the room.
The phone stopped ringing and the silence took over again.
He turned towards you and bent down a little, his gaze locked onto yours, before wrapping a powerful arm behind the bend of your knees. His other hand slid behind your shoulders. With a fluid, effortless motion he lifted you.
Your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders to support yourself. His face was just inches away from yours.
Without stumbling he walked towards his takht with you in his arms.
He sat down placing you in his lap. You placed your legs on either side, your chest pressed tight against his.
You slid your hands around his neck, his mouth found yours again. Hungrier now, his hands slid down to your hips gathering the fabric of your suit in his fists.
His hands found the hem of your suit and pulled it up, slowly, breaking the kiss just enough to pull it over your head and tossed it somewhere behind.
He pressed his hand flat against your stomach, sliding up, his fingers brushed your nipples through the fabric of your bra. His eyes moved from your breasts to the curve of your waist. He unclasped your bra, his palm squeezed the flesh of your mound. He pinched your nipples making you moan out his name.
You dragged your hands over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. You could feel him hard and demanding pressing against your clothed cunt.
You slid down onto your knees, between his legs.
He unbuckled his belt and pulled the pants down, his thick cock sprang out.
You wrapped your hand around the shaft and moved it along the length, you deliberately brushed your fingers on the tip of his cock making him hiss.
You wet your lips before he grabbed your jaw and pushed himself into your mouth. You almost choked at the sudden intrusion but took him in nonetheless. You move your head, your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked him deeper.
His grip tightened on the armrest and his breath came out uneven. When he looked at you he groaned at the sight with you on your knees. He closed his eyes as your teeth accidentally grazed a vein along his shaft.
His hands moved to your hair and gripped it in a makeshift ponytail. He tugged on it to make you bob faster, your saliva dripped down his shaft.
Just as you felt him twitch in your mouth, you gasped as he pulled away suddenly and spilled his cum all over your chest.
His eyes darkened as the fluid painted your boobs.
He removed his kurta before he pulled you to stand along with him, moving towards the table and with one clean sweep of his hand he cleared the table before pushing you towards it.
You laid back on the table.
He untied the drawstrings of your salwar and pulled it down your legs.
Your skin was set on fire when his large hand was placed on your thigh, pushing your legs apart until you felt the cool breeze on your panties.
Rehman pulled back to watch as his knuckle grazed over your centre, teasing the ache. Your pussy clenched around nothing but air. He moved his fingers gently over the fabric, finding your entrance and circling it perfectly.
“Rehman…please…”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled it swiftly down your legs. Leaving you completely bare.
He swore under his breath before moving to kiss you again as his fingers moved through your folds, finding your clit. Your moans are swallowed by him as he circled your clit. Your hips jerk up when he moves his fingers along your folds whilst rubbing your clit with his thumb.
Suddenly—
He plunged two fingers into your cunt.
“Aaaah—” your moan is cut short when he bit your lower lip.
He pumped his fingers in and out of you. He pulled away from the kiss and moved to your chest.
He swirled his tongue around your nipple while curling his fingers at the same time. A cry ripped from your throat, the coil in your stomach grew tighter.
A soft moan tumbled out, pressure snapped like a thread and you came apart around his fingers. He pushed himself up while you struggle to catch your breath.
He settled between your legs and your hands find his arms as they brace himself on either side of your head.
He pulled you flush against himself with just enough space to rock his hips with slow movements.
His cock slid through your folds and coated himself in your dripping arousal. You bite down hard on your lip when it rolls over your clit.
And in a moment of tenderness, he intertwines his hands with yours and brings it over your head.
Then he pushed in.
You gasp.
You're stretched out right away and he's only halfway in.
He grits his teeth and focuses on your face as you adjust to him.
Then he slammed inside completely. You squirm under him, rolling your hips to double the pleasure.
You pussy pulsed around him as he started moving his hips, his hand tightened around yours.
“Oh…” you whimper when he thrusts harder.
He picked up the speed, cock dragging against your walls. The wet slick of your bodies meeting echoed through the cabin and your eyes roll back as you picture his cock drenched in you.
Your body jolted and moved with every thrust, his cock throbbed while he pounded into you. Your back arched as he hit your sweet spot.
His thrusts got impossibly hard as he held you down, determined to find the sweet spot again and again and again.
You whimper as your stomach tightened again and your muscles began to lock in as his hips pummelled into you.
Your orgasm crashed into you with more ferocity than the previous one. Your pussy fluttering around his cock.
His pace slowed down but there was barely enough time before he slipped out of you and turned you onto your stomach. You whined as he pulled your hips up and placed a smack on your ass.
He thrusted in again, pushing back into your pussy. His cock felt different in this position, it’s longer and heavier. It made your stomach bulge. He grinds into you, reaching deeper.
His hips jerked suddenly. You can’t think of anything as his cock stretches your entrance in a new angle.
Rehman came almost as soon as your pussy clenched around him again,he groaned and with a couple of quick thrusts he buried himself deeper as ropes of cum shot into you.
You sigh as you feel him relax behind you.
A slow kiss is pressed to your shoulder as he pulls out.
Content: Jassi being a cutie, mentions of sex, fluff
Author's note: It's been so long since I wrote and honestly, I wrote this just to try and get rid of my writer's block. The current happenings of what's around us has dulled my mind greatly and I was struggling to manage uni and writing. So I thought, why not write something on theme? This is very short but I hope y'all like it ;) This is for all the people who are still here despite everything <3
Boyfriend!Jassi whose girl is an absolute troublemaker. But not the kind where she beats up random idiots, no no, she debates them. An educated baddie, one might say. He'll watch with a proud (and concerned) gaze when you stand up for what's right, not hesitating for a second.
Boyfriend!Jassi whom you met after a...peculiar incident. In the first week of college, you witnessed him getting ragged by seniors, and you boldly stepped up to help him. He watched in awe as you lashed out at the seniors, demanding they apologise to him for their misbehaviour. They immediately apologized and ran away when you threatened to take them to the Principal. The next few minutes, you stood there lecturing Jassi, telling him to have a spine and to stand up for himself. He didn't hear a thing because he was too busy admiring you.
Boyfriend!Jassi who spent the next few days tagging along to wherever you went, claiming that he was scared the seniors would come back, when in reality he just wanted to be near you. You clocked him immediately and thus formed your friendship. Though evidently, this "just friends" plan didn't last long, and in two months he asked you out and now here you were, his girlfriend of almost two years.
Boyfriend!Jassi who has found his courage over time, and now stands shoulder-to-shoulder with you in any issue. At first he joined you purely from his concern for your safety, but he later understood your spirit, enthusiastically joining you in whatever you stood for.
Boyfriend!Jassi who cheers the loudest for whatever you do. Whether it's debates, speeches, competitions, you bet your ass he will be there to show his support.
Boyfriend!Jassi whom you debate politics with as date ideas. He'll even go as far as to make powerpoint presentations. You sit back and listen to him talk all formally like you're not getting turned on. The debate ends in the bedroom with either you on top or him on top. Depends on who won.
Boyfriend!Jassi who goes with you to the bookstore every week. It's a ritual for both of you now. Every Saturday, you'll go to the nearby bookstore, and pick out books for each other to read for that week. You even challenge each other to see who finishes their book first.
Boyfriend!Jassi who's not afraid of your boldness. His masculinity is not threatened by you having a voice. In fact, he actively encourages it. He'll roll his eyes at anyone who says you're too much and maybe even threaten to throw a punch.
Boyfriend!Jassi who trains at the gym hard so he can be your "scary guard dog" – his words, not yours. He claims that he needs to look scary so people don't mess with you. You find it adorable.
Boyfriend!Jassi who tells Jasleen to look up to you. He brings you home a few months into your relationship and his parents are more than delighted to see that Jassi got himself a girl who's not afraid to speak up. His father, in particular, is proud and always takes his time to chat with you to see what the "new generation" is all about. Harleen thank you for "empowering" Jassi and for getting rid of his scaredy cat nature. Jassi is deeply offended and pouts at his sister the rest of the day. (She knows he's not a scaredy cat. She just says that to piss him off).
Boyfriend!Jassi who is so proud of the fact that he's your boyfriend. Whenever you win something, do something impressive, or even just exist, he'll boast about the fact that he's your boyfriend to people standing around. If it was upto him, he'd tattoo it on his forehead.
Here's what I think collegebf!Jassi might've looked like:
synopsis- Uzair holds Aslam daughter captive to use her as a scapegoat for information while she bewitches him with her softness to avenge her dead father
a/n- biro yaya part 2 i hope i am not updating too late but i really cant help it with college starting, very divergent from the actual plot of the movie
Trigger warnings- Age gap 32-21, neglected child, child abuse, explicit content, non/dub con kissing and humping, drug use
You watched around the dark room, the only light being the one that entered through the edges of the door dimly lightening up the room, your eyes adjusted to the gray and the tears that haven't stopped flowing. The room though it looked abandoned it offered a comfortable double bed and another door that you were sure was the bathroom, rest of it were just empty shelves and thing that did not have any use anymore cluttered in a corner or in between the way to the bed, a broken lamp, old newspapers bundles and what not.
You looked back at the torn off cloth in your hand, it was the first time in 15 years when your ‘father’ had chosen out something for you to gift, or given you a gift at all and possibly the last memory you would have had of him and now even that was torn, the short lived fate of the luxury reminded you very much of your own pity. And once again your fate has been decided from a man who found glory in revenge regardless of the ruination that followed, your ‘father’ only cared for his pride, his possession as he killed your abbu jaan and the same way Uzair had ended a life as if any of them were innocent in this game and the constant hoarder of their pain becoming you.
Who were they? and were you any less deserving of life than them, who are these people and why do they get to decide where your life landed up next. You weren't going to take this quietly for once .
You refused to use the bed, and sleep didn't came and when it did you don't remember, the room in light looked worse when you realised the clutter wasn't clutter at all, it was all liven in things, the 8th grade books, a wearing off bat in the corner, inflated footballs just memories of life that didn't exist anymore
The door creeped open a inch, “ Uth gayi?” Followed by a raspy voice you didn't recognize. You put your hand at your chest walking slow to the opening, peeking out to see a burly tanned man, his hair so lucious it put yours to shame. “Mhm” You nodded mumbling, “ Yeh kapde pehen lo uske baad Uzair bhai tumse baat karne aayenge”
It was an old faded out kurta but you did not have the privilege of choice right now so you pulled down whatever shabby cloth they had given you over your body, you honestly did not know what to expect of them what you knew was that by chance you had escaped the worst case scenario of becoming a toy but you still couldn’t be sure and let your guard down so quick.
You followed him to wherever he led, watching the pale beige of the walls paired with the beautiful antiques of the house, it wasn't the modern luxurious houses you were used to seeing in your area this was a regal property where every furniture and design was a quiet opulence, the sunlight dangled so prettily from the stained glass arch, the canvas for its kaleidoscope being the wall just opposite to it. You have admired it for so long you did not realise when you had forgotten to look forward until you had bumped with a sofa.
You sat down quietly forced to fiddle your eyes around the house now that the man in front of you had decided not to disclose anything further to you, forced to watch a house that felt more like home than you ever had in the 15 years you spent in your ‘father’s’ house, each photo hung up on the wall made you pause and see the liveliness through it, made you wonder what stories it had to tell before nothing remained. Yes the sofa cover was wearing out slightly, the side of coffee table scratched and the top left with indentations of the tea that trickled to the bottom of the cup, it felt strange to be so close to it the same way you had felt about the left behind belongings from your room it was strangely intimate to watch things yearn for their owners once they had left.
The door from the other side opened loudly followed by three burly men now standing around you,
“ Aslam ke baaki log kaha hai?”
Asked the green eyed man, you wanted to reply back and give them back the firm answer you had - You did not know, your father who couldn't even share glances with you let alone share his secrets like that was almost comical to hear. The memory of the wound etched into his head made you flinch involuntarily, clutching at the salwar, the blood shed you saw when he dragged you out, how it pooled at the floor carrying out to the door step of your house, then why were you spared? The last thing you heard there were his men panicking about how he should not have killed Aslam there because it meant incomplete information.
You were only alive right now, because they believed you knew the things that they weren't able to extract from him so you had to play along. Putting on faces wasn't an anomaly to you so you did as you sought
“Mujhe nahi pata” You said naively enough to make yourself look guilty, the lighter clicked loudly through the tense atmosphere, your eyes were to shoot up before you forced them to relax and look up and slow because you already knew who it was going to be. Uzair stood leaned up against the wall watching you from his peripheral vision, his mood, expression unchanged from it was last night.
“ Lyari task force ka office kaha hai?”
“ Mujhe nahi pata”
You repeated back more stubbornly holding up the perfect spoiled brat personality that you have never lived
The same question repeated for two days, stuck in your head in a loop- how many men were involved? Where is the office? Who funded the operation? Where is the rest of your family? Were there any politicians involved and with how oblivious your answer got the more the privilege of food was taken away and reduced to a sookhi roti by day three. And by three you were acquainted with the names of the men who interrogated you- Hamza, Dhonga, Siyahi, Yusuf. You only cared for these names because they were the one most closely associated with Uzair, and you tried your best to slip in a normal conversation in between which they almost always allowed and the second conversation got lighter Uzair left and so did his burning stare.
That night he watched you shivering on the floor, with your beloved gift ripped with his very hand in the depth of the dark you could still decipher the strange hunger he watched your face with and how you could still feel it linger in the way he watched you from the sidelines, and has not spoken to you not until now.
You remember being 13 and watching him with starry eyes on the tv while your ‘father’ cursed out loud about Rehman, when you couldn't find the relief of sleep at night you sat alongside Aslam watching the boring new and to you even the pixelated Uzair on the screen was a delight, had you kicking your feet more than your favourite actor ever did, you remember being 16 catching just a glimpse of him passing by, fast enough you couldn't see his face that disappeared into corner of the road but that presence remained with you for long before you had your first boyfriend.
Rihaan became your escape from the world, a sweet smart boy who helped you with academics, late evening study session that turned into something else entirely and you were in love you swore you were but you hid yourself from him at times, never let him into the reality of your house but the way your whole days went without a call from your ‘father’ should have spoken enough for him. You had given him your every firsts, your first kiss, your first night, your first love and being with him was not a problem usually because its not like anyone cared enough to check upon where and who you were roaming with.
Two years passed in the perfect teenage fantasy before life had a purpose for him, he needed to study further and well you- how could you tell him your father simply did not care for what you have achieved and soon he was away, you promised each other you would stay in touch but the eventual drift was heartbreaking but eventually the truth you had to accept when you rung up his phone ten times and he did not picked up. The small chapter closed but it blew wind to the feelings that you had buried back two years ago dismissing it as a childish infatuation with a thing you were specifically taught to stay away from.
The day you were crying quietly in the corner of a crowded street, watching the blurred vision of the phone in front of you watching it go off again and again, it was one of those days when you could not act like you accepted the reality of your first love leaving you, to Uzair you were just a crying girl on the road that he thrown- offered his handkerchief to and disappear back into the world he belonged to.
It became a routine for you now, staring out of the bounded window of the jhaali had you squinting your eyes at first till you became detached watching the vehicles pass by mindlessly with the bedim view of outside with the criss cross patterns in front of your eyes . You had even started to recognise their footsteps fueled by your instinct to survive.
Today was no different, the door swung open revealing Donga, Hamza,Siyahi and Yusuf
“Ye iska roz ka ho gaya hai ab. Kuch bolti nahi. Bhai kyu bhejte hai kya pata. Sirf vakt barbaad karti hai,” Donga said to the others, exasperation evident in his expression
“Agar ladka hoti toh maar kar sab bulwa lete. Par vo bhi nahi kar sakte,” Hamza added his voice reeking with desperation to extract information from you and at times it was hard for him to watch what Uzair was becoming into
“Lekin isse hum muft me kitne din aur rakhenge? Paalne ke liye thodi laaye hai isse” Yusuf added, making all of them nod in exasperation . “ Kuch kaam karwate hai, ameer ghar ki ladki hai jyada din nahi jhel paayi khud thak kar sab bata degi,” Yusuf suggested the softest torture method they ever had to come up with.
But these people weren't your friends and the words from their mouth did not particularly meant the same as they did for you
“Oh madam, kaam kya kar leti ho tum?”
You felt a wave of embarrassment and dread wash over you because how could you tell them that you had never worked a day in your life and what if they made you do disgusting stuff for them? It was a game of pride you had known that with the time spent with your ‘father’ and whats more humiliating than taking away what's considered your dignity in the society, and lose all autonomy to this men, after all how would they know all the hurt in a house full of men
(oh baby you dont know)
That’s all you could hear in your head and suddenly wished Uzair had killed you too after he had killed your ‘father’ without a speck of emotion on his face
Donga repeated his question, voice a tad bit higher, at the same time Uzair entered finding himself to be perched cooly against one of the corners watching you with same coldness that ensued everyday
“Mene kuch puchha?! Kya kaam kar leti ho?”
“Vo bas…paani ubalne aata hai” You whispered
“ Aur khaane mei kya banana aata hai?”
“Noodles bana leti ..ho bas ek baar jalaya tha”
“ VAAH ubalte hue paani mei noodles daalna hai tumhare liye khaana banana? Aur usmien bhi tumne jala diya???” The absurdity toned down the atmosphere of the room making the men break into smiles they knew were not appropriate in the situation
Uzair breathed too hard for too long, running his hands up his hair, messing it up the heave of his chest growing tighter and faster when the laugh continued
“MAZAAK LAGTA HAI TUJHE YEH SAB?!”
The venom in his voice made you flinch, making every breath feel like a task. He stepped closer to you and leaned down, his face inches away from your own, he reeked of alcohol, intensifying your terror for you were unaware of his next move
His hand dug into the line of your jaw, his thumb finding place at the side of your mouth from the way it engulfed the whole curve of your face,
“ Muh khol kuch puch raha hoon kuch tujhse”
You whimpered your eyes going teary with how harshly he was holding you
(gandu Uzair)
“ Bol, tera baap toh bahut bolta tha”
He snarled in your face and no matter how hard you tried to play it cool you were scared, nothing could foretell what was going to happen to you if you continued to live with them ,continued to act this way and above all you were all alone. His roughness made you feel your heart was in your mouth but the proximity tingled down your spine, the warmth of his coarse hand spreading throughout your body, to the flush of your cheeks that you were glad you could hide in the guise of tears and the perilous heat that settled heavy between your legs.
He pulled back standing up straight with his grip everchanging on your face. Were you to posit this pull at the sight of his furrowed dense eyebrows and the ways his eyes watched down you, how he didn't put the effort to lean in to you to face letting his eyes do the work effortlessly and the way you could sense his thumb inching closer at times to the side of your mouth, it felt intimate the violence the hate from both of you mixing dangerously with an unsaid feeling that men and women like you weren't supposed to have given the situation this tension was born from him.
He is your father’s murderer and in his eyes you were just as guilty as your father to snatch his second chance to live, to destroy what was never his in the first place and after years of the life he spent under Rehman’s shelter and shadow he was once again the boy who had lost both his parents in front of his eyes and watched helplessly but only this time he wasn't helpless, he could have saved Rehman one changed decision and his brother would have been alive, and this house wouldn't have felt so haunting.
He tried to watch you with the same loathe but unwillingly the sight of you standing there in the crowd while he decided Arshad’s fate crept in and how genuinely innocent and blameless you looked staring at him with nothing but terror and how your fear reduced to a fraction when his eyes met yours, he did not know that he was capable of such softness anymore when all that stirred in his heart was pain and abhorrence.
“Bol” he said coldly, squeezing your jaw tighter to muffle the thoughts in his head from the impact your lips parted. Both of you paused, eyes meeting to convey the same feeling of restlessness. You let him do as pleased, watching the rough pad of his thumb brush again at the side of your mouth to trace the edge of your lips, you shivered blinking up at him.
His body fought to stand still at the feel of the moisture from your tender lips that he admired from afar in the dead of the night, without further intel from his consciousness his thumb slipped into your mouth pressing at your tongue. The agitation of the softness, the velvety bumps of your tongue along with your salvia sticking to his skin that gave him a pleasure so depraved, and the hot breath that surrounded his skin added fuel to the fire. He did not say anything but the side of his mouth twitched his jaw tightening to keep in the low groan that threatened to leak out at the idea of that warm mouth to wrap around his cock, all the sense that he disappeared into thin air.
He dragged his slick finger back out smearing your own fluid past your lips, pushing down the plump bottom lip till it touched back at your skin before thrusting his thumb back in, your eyes rolled back for a second lips going to purse around the salty foreign object in your mouth, the heat between your legs elapsing all at the same point to the small bud that ached painfully. You wanted to bob your head show him how good you will be
Hamza choked out loud turning away, Uzair pulled away abruptly muttering curses under his breath
There was a significant change in your daily activities now, from sitting by the window to doing all the housework . It was obviously not a pleasant change. Most changes are not pleasant. The first few days went terrible, constant criticism and yelling for not doing the work properly. Over the course of a few weeks you thought you had mastered it but it was completely opposite to Uzair’s opinion.
He chided you daily, barged in your room when he saw fit and asked you questions about your ‘father.’
All of this had started to drain you emotionally as well as physically, your eyes had begun to look sunken, your cheeks slightly hollow, the suppleness long gone, you had forgotten how the warm rays of the sun felt on your skin when you stepped outside, you were confined with no means of escape.
After your finger tips had wrinkled from wringing out the wet cloth to used to sweep the floor for the third time now, you plopped down exhausted on the floor. Your dupatta starting from your shoulder ending tied at the side of your waist leaned up againt the water bucket on the floor. Aslam house didn't withold any pity for you and your loneliness but you atleast lived the life of luxury, and your abbu jaan never even let you eat with your own hands whenever he was home, feeding you dinner in his lap while you talked about your daughter, he didn't want the dirt of the society touch his innocent child, didn't want the means she was born of become a bane of her existence but it did.
You wondered if he saw you like this what would he think?
“ Kaam karne bola hai ya sone bola hai?” Uzair voice carried through the courtyard bursting your small bubble of thoughts,
“ Kaam karliya maine ” you whispered politely
“ Isko saaf kehte hai? Puri gandgi dikh rahi hai abhi bhi” You both knew that wasn't the truth and somehow that made it more frustrating.
Three times you have run the cloth across the floor over this massive acres of land and he is asking you to do it all over again? Barely hold back your vexation you replied through gritted teeth
“ Aapki aankhien kamzoor hogi meri nahi”
It was rude, you weren't supposed to say it but offending wasn't the first thing to catch at his face it was challenge turning the straight line of his lips downward.
“ Theek hai fir ya toh mera kamra saaf kardo ya fir firse pura farsh saaf kar”
His room fell straight in your vision from the room were kept captive in ,on the very opposite end but still visible and you were aware of the dishonourable state of his room today, with the clothes thrown out and heaping on the floor, and how the bedsheets were discarded half off the bed. The task wasn't to clean the room it was to withstand his gaze as you worked, and no you did not want to be in his room and work around in the stuff air of everything being his, did not want to want to see all of life pushed up at photos on shelves and see him as an human, be in the space he sprawled in every night it was all just too intimate. But a challenge was a challenge and you yourself had not felt that spark to prove yourself in three years now and Uzair aggravated the emotion at how hate was not the only thing you felt when you looked at him.
“ Thee hai mai aapka kamra saaf karungi” You dragged yourself up and into his room, you forced yourself to focus your eyes ahead and keep them only and only on the pile of clothes to avoid being swayed the intoxicating smell of him that flooded the room, that felt your bones feel al little too weaker.
You posed yourself carefully making your cleavage spilled out as you worked that you bent over one to many times for himself to keep his face straight, if he was going to torture you with his ravenous eyes you were going to put him through the same suffering of the sight he cant, cant touch.
He grabbed you by the arm, “Apne kamre mei jaa” He shoved you out of the room breathing heavily shutting the door close with a loud bang but even after you could feel the tremor of his hands from outside the door
On the same day in the evening when Uzair and his men had decided to bother you (again) to ask you questions about your ‘fathers’ doings using words and names of people you had never heard in the entirety of your existence. Your fury had reached its crest, all of it overwhelmed you, the constant condemnation despite your best efforts and to top it all of the questioning irritated you to infinite ends. In the heat of the moment your bursted,
“Kya hai ye roz ka?! Ye admi kaun hai! Isse kabhi dekha kya?! Ye kaha hai?! Vo kaha hai! Mera baap kya karta tha?! Ja ye kaam! Ja vo jakar bana! Thak gayi hu me! Khuda ke liye mujhe baksh do!! Saans nahi li jaati mujhse yaha”
Uzair did not counter back he just repeat the same question that you had heard so many times by now it made your fist clench
“ Task force ka office kaha hai?”
“ MUJHE NAHI PATA! AUR PATA HOTA BHI TOH MAI AAPKO NAHI BATATI!!” You shouted the frustation getting at the last of your nerves and patience.
You regretted these words the second they came out of your mouth when Uzair ordered all his men to leave the rooms and stood up the movement so absolute it sent shivers down your spine. You watched around the room for mercy from everyone inside the room but they all avoided your eyes “ Rehne do Uzair bhai koi baat nahi bacchi hai” Dhonga tried to reason with him ,but he dismissed them all out of with nothing but quietness
The door closed behind them leaving you stranded with him you took hurried steps back watching the sudden aggressiveness show through him as his veins pulled taut the scuttled movement send you stumbling back, your head hitting the bed frame as your body slid back against the wood , you winced in pain but you knew what was coming your way was far worse.
“ Tameez se jawab de de varna mujhe aur bhi tareeke pata hai”
Uzair added coldly, crouching down on the floor, his eyes boring into your soul as he folded the sleeves of his pathani suit, you gulped for you were sure that you had finally broken what little dignity he was holding himself up to; to at least not raise his hand at a woman. His hand grabbed at your jaw it was the same familiar movement only the amit of that day was gone replaced with the harshness of a man who had been driven heinous from his grief “ Bol kya pata hai tujhe” “ Mujhe sach mei kuch nahi pata please” Your whimpered plea was cut off as his grip tightened . You saw him raise his other hand in a slap which made your primordially flinch and close your eyes, a quiet sob leaving your lips.
Aslam had slapped you once when you made the mistake of touching the photo frame of your mother and breaking it into pieces, he moved in instinct his hand connecting with your tiny cheek in a harsh blow that knocked a baby tooth out of your mouth, that was the first and the last time but it had stayed with you for years, the terror into your heart.
The feel of his heavy hand striking your flesh never came only the delicate brush of his finger as he swept the stray wave out of your face, the hand on your jaw falling to his side as he dawdled trailing his finger tips to the corner of your eyes where the tears formed, you had forgotten how to breathe, how to get your eyes to open again and if you would ever be able to handle that softness that must be on his face right now.
He hand travelled from the arch of your cheek to the back of your head, you felt the shift and the warmth of his body close- he was pulling you into his chest.
You remained stuck in place, feeling your own face as a stranger as it settled into hard plane of his chest, his lips touched at the top of you heard but the action so gentle it got passed and disappeared into the air before you could even be sure if what you felt was correct but the feeling of beating heart made you believe in it.
“Sorry” he whispered without any explanation leaving you with a departure that felt like breaking into pieces.
For the whole evening you did not see him, your eyes unwillingly glancing again and again the closed off door to his bedroom, you heard the sound of the skidding car outside the haveli and Uzair fuming as he strided back into his house.
You wondered if that gloominess was directed at you again but he went straight to his room ignoring Hamza tired sighs, you heard the clatter of things being knocked over as he desperately searched for something and then it went quiet all of a sudden, curiously you turned your head
He spread out the white power at the table in a thin line, he took a second staring down at the mess he had created himself before pressing on finger at the side of his nose leaning in to snort in the line, he huffed up falling back into couch, barely breathing his eyes wild but you also saw the tears glistening them, you tried not to care, tried to shut off the the visual of his pain with wood that would conceal, but you could not bring yourself to, instead keeping the door open by a few inches.
The moon had been up in the sky for hours now, the usual silence of the night taking over. It was late even for the gangster whose work began in the dark leaving behind haveli empty and solace.Uzair watched you from the narrow opening of your door, though exhausted from work sleep never come easy and it never had since you were 6, the fear of what will cross your mind next when you closed your eyes scared you, tired you with how the visuals of the death remained still fresh in your heart.
You reached your hand back at the dori of the kurta, unfastening the fabric to get ready for bed. His large hand hauled you back crushing his chest at your back. You cried out loud, your body locking in place from how unexpected it was, his breath grazing at the side of your neck in heavy desperate pants. Fuck he was sniffing your neck, “ Kya kare ho choro mujhe” In another second he had gotten a hold of your face and is smashing his lips against yours.
You squirmed but it dont move him an inch as he sucked your lips in his hands going to tangle at the back of your hair. Ravelling in the soft waves he softened his kiss a fraction not crushing but punishing your tenderness with his controlled but still extremely hungry movement as he tilted his head to soak in the feel of you that had been calling for him for too long now, he kissed till he felt you let go of the stiffness and until it finally registered what he was doing.
His beard scratched gently at your face but that was nothing to what was happening, why was he kissing you right now? And why you found no fight left in yourself right now standing still to endure the assault of your lips, your knees faltering for a second before he steadied you snaking his muscular arm around your waist keeping you in arrest. And in the trance of the moment you moved your lips back with him in the same feverish rhythm of neediness and craze
“ Teri vajah se meri jindagi kuch nahi bacha”
He grunted, pulling his head back only to dip it the crook of your neck leaving aggressively bright purple spots on your skin, you moaned breathlessly, head falling back to give more of yourself as he put the blame of his brother’s death on you; what a sick verdict.
The coarse beard didn't just touched against the skin now it scraped at the delicate skin that he would have killed to touch, his movements scampered as if the soft feel of your body would disappear and the warm summer scent of you would evaporate into the thin air before he could truly worship it, he drew a dangerous path down the slope of your neck to your collarbone, his hands pulling down the kurta off your shoulder and descending his hungry lips at the parts of you that he hadn't seen it, he didn't went in first watching the soft curve with his dazed, tracing the shape under his fingerprints to feel if it was real before deciding to marr them with his possessiveness.
You had been quivering to a feeling you weren't a stranger but with Uzair it was different, you felt your heart thrum ten times stronger and all with thoughts that were almost a sin considering what you both were to each other.
“ Magar fir yeh sukoon bhi sirf tujh mei hi hai” he continued, his tone gravely which sounded more like defeat than it did like hunger. Gosh you were supposed to be upset, he had done everything wrong from barging into your room in the middle of the night to forcing his lips on yours, everything wrong but you still tangled your finger in his dark thick waves yanking his head back to seal both of your lips together,this time doing it yourself.
A raw whimper cut out straight from his throat as he felt you move, finding it hard to hold himself back in the intoxication, his hand fisting into the fabric of the cheap cotton of the clothes he had made you wear. He traced the flimsy wet seam of your lips in a silent behest that broke the last of sense in your brain, it was Uzair who was inebriated he had an excuse what did you have? You just said in your head that he was forcing this upon you as you parted yours lips with utmost despair to feel his tongue slide into your mouth.
You almost fell back when his tongue mingled with yours , you couldnt feel what breathe was yours and what was his feeling all the same and one in the movement, moving in rapid circles together as you both drowned in each other's taste. His heat pooled at his stomach the drugs from before had made it more sensitive, he was aroused and erect from the second he saw you the narrow space looking at yourself in the mirror, watching your fingers pull open the knot and expose the span of your back that he so sullenly wanted to feel, and the warmth of your mouth was the same as he imagined, so were the tremors that shook your whole and the soft voice that hymned his name in between the exchange, kissing for so long that saliave dripped down the side of your mouth.
Deliriously you raised one leg resting it at his hips in an urge to soothe the burgeoning heat that made you walls suck around absolutely nothing, only to be met by the silhouette of his hard cock through the clothes.
With another half whine, half groan he threw you onto the mattress. Before you could root yourself back in place and reality he had already spread your legs wide, twisting your limbs as he placed and crashed his hips into yours. You gasped at how intently his bulge pressed against your covered cunt, throbbing so hard you felt it twitch as if it was alive, “ Uzair stop it” you hissed in an attempt to bite back the moan as he started grinding, his voice growing rugged, “ Meri hai tu sirf meri”
The dripping precum dampened the fabric to both of your clothes and the wet sensation hitting you stronger than ever. As your back arched, legs fighting to close but with him a huge boulder - him. “ Uzair” You pleaded and whined but the rhythm didn't stop, the friction crumbling you into deceitful bliss. The hard head poked at your stomach almost, slapping against your belly button with each thrust your eyes were starting to give out when it all halted and he fell upon you with all his weight.
He fell asleep, nuzzling his face into your neck like a grumpy cat who was caught off guard.
a/n- sorry for the edging ya all </3 but hehehe, also please nobody come for my boi for torturing her what else was he supposed to do lol.comment to be added or removed from the tag list!!
synopsis- Uzair holds Aslam daughter captive to use her as a scapegoat for information while she bewitches him with her softness to avenge her dead father
a/n- its a lil short 5k words :P but its here yaya please read and interact died writing it ( majak jokes jokes can you tell its 4 am ugh) very divergent from the actual plot of the movie
Trigger warnings- Age gap 32-21, neglected child, death, gore, crimes, gun, crude language, periods, masturbation(M)
Blood dripped down the bonnet of the coal black SUV, the sunlight finding its way to reflect on the part that were covered in red, atop sat a man you had known for most of your life in your father curses, sometimes on the television, somewhere in the back of the poster his very pixelated self always living in the shadow of his brother- the reputed Rehman Dakait. It wasn't an unknown fact that Rehman was dead now, in fact it was the news that had shaken up the whole of Lyari and got the weight of your father's shoulder significantly.
You recalled the scene from a few weeks back, the running broadcast, the cries on the TV, people shouting tributes outside the hospital when your father returned home his usually impeccably clean kurta covered in dust, his hair ruffled and coarse, his body sinking and unable to hold itself up due to the injuries,you had bolted up to meet him,to put his bruised arm over your shoulder only to be met with a quiet command to move over that stayed in your more than any of the shouts could ever have.
It was a quiet declaration that you will never belong with him, not in the way a kid does to their father.
It was clear your father had killed the man, he spewed hate at the sight of him, his words transcending from curses from him to the balochs and then there was this other name mentioned, the one that made your cheeks flush and hide your face from your family because even when said with dripping with venom, it was his name, a man you had come to admire before you knew it - Uzair Baloch.
He sat stop the bonnet hoarding the barely alive body as a prize, a warning tied at the front of his car, you could recognize the bloody disfigured face from the times he had spent at home talking low with your father in the hall not even a month ago, Uzair hands did not hesitate using the kasai knife on his neck with relentless blows till Arshad pappu neck barely hung on to its body thin lines of stretched over skin and then even that thin string was cut off.
You were not supposed to be here, a walk down the street had come to you going to your favourite secluded place in the part where you maybe were not even welcome but it called for you at times, the empty terrace top of the now secluded tall building. Rehman’s part of the town was not meant for you but then again your father didn't bother to check up on your whereabouts and no one saw you as anything other than a face in the crowd, you were the ghost daughter of Aslam after all.
The sweat stuck at the neckline of his khakee colour suit that was now decorated with splatters of blood, his eyes bloodshot and fixed on the head as he screamed expletives to the head in his hand, vengeance often drowned the moral consciousness and this was a clear case for it because what brutalities one had to go to, to perform something so vile and not even flinch, what level of agony have they drowned in that ‘this' feels like peace.
The gruesome scene had you stuck in place, a little behind the ground but you were still there, close enough to hear the last bated breath from Arshad lips and the rumble of Uzair's chest, you wanted to move, you wanted to run but it your legs were in a quicksand, the control over your own body slipping with each passing second. The wet mud engulfed you to the point you felt you had sunken three feet under the ground unable to believe all that you were watching right now, the head being kicked around into the crowd, the screams of people, the trail of blood it left behind made bile rise at your throat.
Then there was another prop with the lifeless landing in your direction, everyone in front of you moved but you were stuck in that same quicksand and you dreadingly came into the line of his sight.
Years of watching him with starry eyes only for the first encounter to be this catastrophic, those brown eyes grounded you the heavy feeling of swamping replaced by something as helpless as how weak your knees felt at the sight of him. The way his broad chest heaved made your own breathing break into small vulnerable pieces, the thick dark waves of hair glistening under the sun and falling over his forehead he was the storm and cold at once, from the way his gaze pierced you with a burning intensity and the way his jaw remained shut tight like you weren't there at all.
Then came the crashing realization of this outrageous display, this madness all for his brother that your father had killed, maybe he was calculating, for you to be the next target.
You shrieked ducking your head into your dupatta with clammy hands running away
He looked down Arshad's head and where it had lolled too, the dirt sticking to the blood, the blood that had stained up his sleeves, he doesn't even remember how many men he killed today but he lashed that blow till the ache in his heart a felt a little less hollow, till his brother felt revenged for.
Over the dirt of the city, blood on his hands and the hate in his heart all he saw was her
The first life you had was short lived to the exact number of six years, it ended with a scream of from the end of the Hall, the next thing you saw was your father on the ground clutching his stomach as blood leaked out in ample amounts, staining back at the wall where he did your yearly height measurements, you were so excited you were finally six and going to watch a new line add up to the list but it was all smudged now just like your memories, there stood your ‘father' so sternly like he hadn't shooted your abbu jaan.
What was his crime anyway? It was to have you with his wife before they were married , and it was for his wife to hide the truth from him until now and too meet your abbu in secret at times
Your ‘father’ took you in,his house was bigger,better like the one you had seen in cinema, his house had a tv that meant you did not need to watch it from outside of a store or from a neighbours window, that luxury the colours of the house, the new toys all of fell flat to the wall you shared with your baba, scribbling cows that looks like horses or vice versa into the old chipping away wall, you couldn't understand why did he had to take it from you.
To Aslam it was a matter of pride and in all glory he couldn't keep the only man apart from that had touched his wife alive, not when his face couldn't find the space for him in his heart. Your mother well she never found it for anyone not for your father or your ‘ father' or for the kids and as well as you and to Aslam's misery taking away a life did not make her wife any more closer than she was to him before because as much as it stinged she simply did not care, nothing in the world existed for her except from her herself or maybe that what you had know from what you saw and what you remember because at 7 she was gone, in the same dark world where your father was.
It was an accident, a car driven too fast crashing the honourable police men wife, it was tragic it made headlines on the newspaper filled out column and then a week passed it was nothing more than a photo hung up in your room, the bedding here was more comfortable than the mattress you and your father snuggled in but the sleep never came easy here, it was a constant battlefield of memories you didn't need anymore, an endless thought of what show next when you close your eyes now, 6 years of your life you can't go back to ever or the one year of your mother's cold silence.
And then there was your father a loving family man with two daughters and a son and one charity case he kept in his house, on days you wondered if he felt guilty for taking away a child’s father right in front of their eyes, guilty enough to keep you in his shelter not guilty enough to feel phased by your yearning eyes as he played with his daughters, watched the stupid cartoon with him with them draped over his lap while you sat in a cold corner on the floor and before you knew you had learned to crave him to be your father.
Because him being your father meant you would start existing in their space, you were well fed and clothed and had your own room but you were not there, not in birthday parties, not in festivals, not on trips to restaurants but why ? You were such a good girl weren't you? The sweetest one thats what Abbu has always said so then why were you not with the restaurant but in the kitchen waiting for the dinner to cook, why was there no celebration of your birthday, why did he always forget to shop your clothes for your eid why did you always had to go with the servant minute to get something, why was your eidi sent to you by the servant’s hand and not his, if your abbu said you were the dearest then why could not this man think the same?
What could you make out from the conversations you had witu him they were limited to a morning and good night and silent stares across the room, or the way his smile visibly dropped at the sight at you but mom was not there anymore to check up on you occasionally and your abbu was long gone and so was his warmth and now you needed him to love you to feel something again other than being a shadow in an opulent house.
One day that passed with the same brooding intensity that the others did you saw your ‘father’ coddling up his second born since she had scraped her knees on the way home, he whispered praises to her till her crying subsided into sniffles under the caress of his coarse hand moving every so gently to caress the back of her head. Later you found yourself at the very top stair breathing nervously as your small feet fiddled to step out in the air and fall down to fight against the natural instinct of your body to keep yourself, grubby fingers twisting into your frock half in an unconscious fiddle half to keep yourself to hold back from saving yourself as you jumped down the stairs.
The cold marble clashed with your skin hard enough to leave behind faint purples and blues, the hard edge of the stair digging into your stomach once before you finally met the floor with a thud, “ baba” was the first word to leave your lips and come to your mind and the face flashed before you was the face of the man who was never coming back to save you lost into the skies afar and all that remained was the man in front of you right now. You were facing the front of his khussi shoes as he watched down at your battered form for barely 2 seconds before walking past your battered self but there remained some broken memories of him sleeping beside you, holding you into his chest but it couldn't dull the coldness he showed in the moment.
And the rare times you got some sense of compassion when you were conscious was when a boy pulled your hair in a fight undoing half of your braid and Aslam had walked into the school to find you crying outside in sand, knees scraped , face stained with tears and dirty. He carried you all the way back home talking to you about mundane stuff , the weather, the classes at school before asking what happened and watched his expression darken when you mentioned a boy did it “ Itni kamzoor hai kya meri bacchi joh ek ladke se dar gaye?” He knew how to say it to a kid to make them feel braver than they were,You shook your head firmly, hiding in his chest, “ Nahi baba”
Another time being when you were 12 and woke up from your nap with a harsh crump in your stomach and and a large stain at the back of your frilly skit that bled through the bedsheets into the mattress, you knew what it was but none of your sister and your mother remained a picture on the wall and it was already time people had started leaving work to reach home in time for eid the house devoid of any servants and caretakers both your sisters at their phuppo left only one person for you to run to was your ‘father’ rested against the pillow, sprawled on the leather like a wild animal nursing a glass of wine in one hand the other holding the phone to his ear spewing out elaborate curses one after another to the poor man on the phone
“ Abbu” you whispered standing anxiously at the door before treading soft your steps as light as a feather as you treaded slow to him, he did not hear you the first time continuing on the phone, “ Abbu” you said more loudly and he was absorbed on the phone in whatever has made him miserable today, “ Abbu” You said loud enough to understand he heard you, saw you and was just ignoring you.Ignoring the pain that stirred in your chest and travelled painfully to the pulse of your wrist, you gathered yourself up again ,
“ Abbu khoon aa raha hai” he paused, putting down the phone “ Kya?” “ Khoon aa raha hai..aur dard bhi ho raha hai” You sniffled watching your feet, hands clutched and twisting the fabric of your skirt, he held your hand walking you to his room, a place you were never allowed inside of and the second you entered it felt like a whole different world, the air warmer inside with the lighted incense of lavender, old ghazals played in low tunes in the background the lights warm and pale orange painting the white of the wall in its shade, you could see what he did all day by how things were put out it showed how he lived in, the cigar burn out on the ash tray that rested right beside the poetry book on his bedside table. The half finished glass of whiskey on his table and the clothes he had scattered out when he was going to drop his children to their relatives, and the half hidden photo of your mother covered by his thrown off clothes that felt a little too intentional to be accident but you could also see how much how her remained in his room.
The clothes were still in the clothes pressed and folded once and then never opened again, and you knew that lavender scent was not his choice but your mothers because you always smelled it when she picked you, the sweet smell of her hair making you fall asleep quicker than usual, he was a man drowning in grief no matter how hard he tried to hide it always found its way back to him, unable to throw away the wedding photo that was still up on the wall or the brush that still had her hair sitting so dauntingly on the vanity along with her bangles that she did not up on the day of her accident because it looked like she was trying to hard with them.
Aslam shuffled through his cupboard feeling slightly skittish as he handed her the pad, “ yeh kaise use karte hai” You looked up at him you really did not know, how were you supposed to. He sighed patting your head like you were an untrained pet before telling you calmly, you nodded wiping your face. “ Yeh lo yeh phen lo”
He handed you his kurta opening the bathroom door for you, your insides felt like they were falling off and above all it felt weird this was his space and you were bleeding in here. Carefully you tried to stick on the pad on the fresh underwear you fetched but it did not work and the feeling grew more uncomfortable by the second till you had no option but to call for him again .
He saw you standing with new tears and got to work, showing you how to actually use it, peeling off and sticking up the parts in the place, “ Baaki pata hai aapko? Ek hafte tak chalega yeh aur har teen ghante change karna hota hai” You nodded your eyes fixed on his face rather than his hand as he explained to watch some of that cold expression fill your heart with uncertain hope.
You sat in the middle of his bed holding in whimpers, the texture felt weird between your legs and the fact that you were supposed to put up with this for the next 30 years or so scared you, he reached back into the drawer pulling out the tablets he always kept handy used to the routine after having two daughters, moving mechanically so to boil the water for you to drink to soothe the pain. You swallowed the pill yucking out loud when you accidentally tasted it. The taste was so bitter and crass, he ruffled your hair with a chuckle you had never heard from him before.
Pain was the only thing that brought you two together a once in a blue moon event where he would go as far as checking up in your room to see if you were sleeping and read you stories if you could not but never did he looked at you once when you were in front of his kids or allow you to step out when relatives or his associates were home, and the more you grew the more the distance came back, he hated how none of his kids looked as much as wife than you did, a carbon copy of the woman he had loved with such devotion once to the line of your eyes and the smile of your laughter to the very way you sat reminded him of her- a thought he wanted out of head for years now, you reopened the wound he tried to cover in with duty and intoxication and the dirty life he carried on .
You passed in the first division of your school, standing at the door with your sister, your father knew the result was going to be released today and he was walking over with a wide smile, asking and hugging her daughters as they went off excitedly, whining to him to send them abroad. You opened your mouth to speak the smile plastered wide on your face but he never asked you , they all went into the house without a word to you. You tailed behind trying to hold up the same smile, awkwardly fakely but your heart was really waiting for him to ask, he never asked. You watched him send off all of his kids abroad out of town to study with only you left in the empty house with him- he never asked. It was so unfair your grades were higher you deserved it so much more than any of them did but what could you even say to him? You were already indebted to him, as he is raised his harlot wife kid, and what was he going to say to you , that as if your father could have provided better for you than he did.
Two years pass in that agony watching every friend you ever made get busy with life and leave you behind, two years that passed in watching your hard spent night of studying catch dust in the alimrah the air had grown so suffocating that you wished he had killed you off with your father that day, but then came the unexpected change he asked you to have dinner with him, actually spoke with you about how everything was going. You were frustrated you couldn't understand him even if you tried but that small childish part of you craved for his attention , craved for the time you were not the one on the floor watching tv but curled up in his like a daughter and the day he would see you were his daughter.
The were in your room changing into the anarkali he had just gifted you when you head a bang outside too harsh for it to be your father’s usual way of dealing with thing that he did not liked, he resorted to throwing things but it wasn't that it was a screech of what sounded a lot like bullets going off, other loud thump that was definitely the sound of door breaking and your heart instantly jumped to the thought that had captivated you since days now, the gaze of Uzair that left an imprint on your skin, was it him? Were you really next?
You stood there like a coward, trembling in your room while he destroyed everything you had ever known, recognising the loud clatter of glass breaking that was most your mother’s most ardently , the one you made the servants put in fresh flowers everyday. You were supposed to go out and do something but were you? The thought hit before you allowed it with every going off bullet isn't this what your ‘father’ deserved at all, who were you save him at all when he killed your abbu right in front of your eyes
But so also dangled the naive hope of the life that could have come after this ,after your ‘father’ has finally found time to talk to you and give you a gift with his very own hands for the first time in your life, with unsteady hands that felt like they were going to fall off your bodies you twisted the door knob opening the door slowly, the sound that couldn't reach the confines of your locked room now uncovering in layer the incoherent shouting clear now, the pained grunts of your ‘father’ hitting you like a kick to the gut, he was losing.
You wanted the close back down and never come out, but the light from outside had found its way in so had the eyes of the men who stood bloodied, from the narrow opening the last thing you saw was Uzair, your eyes dragged over his arm that held the glock in his hand to the stern posture of his chest as he stood scornfully up straight for someone who had blood on his hands, they stopped at his face to watch the ice frigid expression of his face he as embraced himself for the impact of the shot, the loud crack went off the air smell of the gunpowder and your eyes shifted quick to see what the barrel was pointed at, tilting your head slow. Your father remained lifeless on the ground with the grisly wound right between his eyes “ Uzair bhai yeh kya kiya isko nahi maarna tha” you heard the word over the whirlwind of emotion wrecking your nerve, and when three seconds passed with your eyes fixed at the same daunting sight you realised Uzair had not spoken a word since and the way your body was burning with the feeling you couldn't pin over what had happened.
He was looking at you, FUCK, you looked him in the eyes accidently the coldness so rigid the devastation came incredibly fast, with your hands fumbling with the lock twice before you scrambled back falling very back on the floor, the white your anarkli catching at the afternoon light and falling at your from the very back, looking extremely haloed at your ruins, the long skirt of silk and softness moved on its dancing beautifully in sync with the rhythm of your heart thrashing at the cage of your ribs as the door banged open, with every tremor that ran down your whole body it slides smoothly over your skin, you looked back at Uzair and strangely he still managed to pull you out of that quick sand, the death you just witnessed replaced with the fear of him.
He didn't care to tone down his touch as he manhandled you onto his shoulder without a word, the dull green contrasting with your swan white, presaging what was to come.
Painfully he dragged you out of the car without not a single word shared between him and his men and from the look of it his revenge wasn't complete yet, the misery sinking the under line of his eyes. You were scared teeth clattering in shivers that didn't seem to stop and his grip was of iron over your wrist, holding it so hard you were it would bruise.
Uzair hauled you inside the haveli that was a crumbling beauty owing up the schemings of your father, you couldn't fathom what he was doing, he could have killed you right there why drag you here maybe he did not meant to kill you at all, the other idea forced itself into your mind spreading a traitorous heat through your body - you were disgusting
Screaming you struggled over and over to free your hand and vexed by the way you struggled constantly against him “CHORO CHORO!” your screaming only intensified jarring at the empty walls of the house, “Chup kar” He finally grunted out barely audible and he fastened his pace moving to a room, you redoubled your effort but all of it went to vain, when you reached the dreaded door frame he pushed you inside but you held tight at the wooden edges refusing to fall into the dark room that promised nothing.
You utilised something different turning to face him at the same time he was going to grip your back and push you in with all his force, the front your dress teared with a loud chirp the ‘charrrrr’ going off into the void, the neckline of your anarkali torn and left in his hand while you had hit the ground from the duress of the shove.
Your cleavage fell full out on display but you were too paralysed with the fear too move, his eyes fell on the flesh for a fraction of second before locking onto your face with those unreadable eyes for what felt like an eternity, he threw the torn fabric back at you striding out the door, locking you inside with a click so loud it echoed throughout the vast haveli.
Uzair did not intend to touch you, you were only here because he needed the information he didn't get out of Aslam when he was alive, so he was going to get it out from you or that's what he told himself. At the display that graced his vision he could not bring himself to look at something that you did not offer even after how tempting the heave of your rising and falling of your chest was the terror stricken face and the disparity of how you looked at him.
The fear was evident but so was the unnamed feeling same from the day he had seen before, locked onto the way moisture sat atop your lips and quivery they were calling him to devour and satiate his thirst , how your eyes glistened from tears you had spilled out and how beauteous you were, the fear combined with your entrancing beauty had him unable to control himself , this wasn't the time or the day but he was painfully hard.
He pulled the string open to his salwar, torturing himself with the slowness, he had not felt this way in months, he had not felt this unrestrained when he was cutting off Arshad’s damn neck. The shallow broken breaths and how close they were to his skin moments ago was a catalyst to the fire. He wrapped his rugged hand tight around his twitching long, eyes rolling back at the sensation, fuck he did not even know your name but you already felt his. He had encountered the softness of your palm in between the pulling and pushing, shuddering at the idea of you holding his throbbing cock instead of him.
He ran his hand up and down, stopping at the top to catch the pre cum from his mushroomy head to make the action more slick, fisting his hard length with the brewing possessiveness in his heart. He rejoiced in your fear because he understood that's not what it was alone continuing the rhythm with eyes closed and all that stayed at his closed eye lids was your face, the trembling screams and screech and what send him over edge was the recallment of you whispering his name so low it got carried away in the breeze, but he heard and the way you said said it between your struggles like you had known him all his life, the familiarity pairing sickly with the distress and that damn saintly white he had derelict-ed.
For the time his release shot out, sticking to his own hands and stomach you were a parizad in his eyes.
a/n - yaay its finnally here had been stalling it for weeks now, hope you all would like it I promise the reader was only completely helpless for this chap baaki there is more to unfurl about the family as well lots of angst
The heavy doors of the bridal suite clicked shut, leaving the wedding noise behind. The room smelled of fresh roses and attar, but your attention was anchored to the man by the arched window. Hamza Ali Mazari. Your father's greatest political asset, the underworld's quiet terror, and as of three hours ago, your legally wedded husband.
You tossed the crimson dupatta onto the settee, laughing softly. For years you'd harbored a massive crush on this giant of a man, staring shamelessly at him across your father's political gatherings. He hadn't bothered to change out of his black silk kurta. True to his everyday aesthetic, the top three buttons were already undone, showing a dark expanse of hair and the firm line down the middle of his chest.
You kicked off your heels. The clatter made him turn. His eyes scanned you under furrowed brows, his jaw clenched. His beard and mustache framed a mouth that looked carved from stone, and his shoulder-length wavy hair fell like a dark halo, making him look wild and entirely untamed. Right now, he looked like a cornered lion.
You closed the distance, tracing your hennaed fingers along the lapel of his open kurta. "Siyasat ne toh apna kaam kar diya, par sach bataun? Iss shaadi mein sabse bada faida mera hi hua hai.”
He stiffened as your nail grazed his collarbone. "Aapko kisi baat ka darr nahi lagta, Begum?”
You laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that shattered the heavy tension in the room. "Darr? Apne shohar se kaisa darr? Aur waise bhi, itne buttons khol ke ghoomte ho poore sheher mein, nazar toh lagni hi thi meri." You stepped into his space, crowding him against the window sill and grabbing the lapels of his kurta to pull him down. You had spent months eyeing his incredibly broad chest, and having it right here at your mercy was intoxicating. "Matlab, seriously, look at these," you teased, sliding both hands inside the silk to explore the hard, muscle underneath. "Karachi ka sabse bada aur khatarnak aadmi aur uske itne khoobsurat.... assets. Jameel Jamali ki badi beti ki kismat sach mein bohot achi hai.”
A flush crept up his neck into his beard. There wasn't much left in this city that could rattle him, but he had no defense against a bride treating him like a five-course meal. He gently caught your wrists with his large, calloused hands. "Khuda ke liye, thodi toh haya rakhein. Yeh theek nahi hai,” he murmured, his eyes wide as he caught a hunger he couldn't hide.
"Bilkul theek hai, Hamza." You popped the fourth button and pressed your mouth to the pulse at his throat, feeling him go completely still. "Aap bohot reserve rehte hain, I know. Par is kamre mein sirf hum dono hain. Aur main saalon se is raat ka intezaar kar rahi thi.”
That cracked him. His hands, which had tried to push you off, wrapped around your waist and pulled you in instead. He dropped his forehead against yours. "Aap sach mein paagal hain.”
"Sirf aapke liye, shohar ji." You laughed against his skin, your fingers threading through the dark hair on his chest.
You didn't move for a while, content to use him as your pillow. Then you stepped back, your hands sliding to his shoulders as you gripped the silk. "Yeh kurta toh ab bas rukaawat hai. Utaar dijiye isse. Mujhe apne shohar ko theek se dekhna hai.”
Hamza swallowed. He didn't argue. He pulled the kurta over his head and dropped it on the floor. His chest was broad, dusted with dark hair running down to his stomach. You bit your lip, taking your time looking.
"Mashallah... kisi ki nazar na lage," you said, pressing your palms flat against his skin, feeling him flex under your hands. "Par sach kahun toh meri khud ki nazar hi nahi hat rahi.”
A low groan moved through him. His hands hovered over your lehenga, his fingers grazing the zardozi work, completely unsure. "Aapka yeh joda... aur yeh itne saare zevar... bohot bhari hain," he said, his voice catching. "Mujhe inhe theek se kholna nahi aata." A deeper flush climbed into his beard.
You laughed, and the gap between his terrifying reputation and his fumbling with hooks and clasps made your chest ache with affection. You took his wrists and pushed until the back of his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit.
"Toh mat kholiye, Hamza." You traced the line down his chest, then kissed his collarbone, moving lower until your mouth rested right over his rapid heartbeat. "Zevar aur kapde main khud utaar lungi. Aap bas wahi kariye jo mujhe pasand aaye.”
He let out a shaky breath, his hands finally moving to close around your waist, pulling your hips against him as he pressed his face into your stomach.
"Begum, aap aadhi jaan toh meri aise hi nikal chuki hain," he muttered against your skin.
You tilted his head back so he had to look at you. "Bachi hui aadhi jaan bhi khushi khushi de dijiyega, Hamza." You kissed him, slow at first, and then with a sudden, deep hunger. "Kyunki abse is poore shareer par, aur is seene mein dhadakne wale dil par, sirf aur sirf mera kabza hai.”
You didn’t give him a second to think. Your hands slammed against his heavy shoulders, shoving him back. Hamza hit the mattress hard, his massive frame sinking into the white sheets, his long, wavy hair spilling out like ink. He didn’t fight it. He just lay there, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes with a quiet, completely uncharacteristic surrender.
Kicking the heavy, suffocating layers of your bridal lehenga to the floor, you didn't waste time. You stripped out of the inner skirts. Impatiently, your hands reached down to undo the silk drawstrings of his salwar, yanking the fabric down and flinging it carelessly to the floor. Your gaze swept over him as you memorized his massive form. Your shohar. A low, rough sound rumbled deep in his chest, not a protest, but a heavy exhale of pure, unadulterated anticipation. You straddled his narrow waist in one fluid motion.
You paused for a fraction of a second, taking a heavy breath to calm your wild heart before your hand finally closed around his length. You stroked him with a slow, deliberate friction just to watch his chest hitch. A low, guttural groan scraped past his throat.
Enjoying his torment, you slowly released your grip and shifted your weight, guiding his hot tip right against your aching center. You paused there for a breathless second, letting the intense heat press against you before you finally lifted your hips and sank down, taking him in completely until there was no space left between you.
A sharp moan tore from your throat, instantly met by his deep, ragged groan as you fused together. The overwhelming rush of slight pain and intense pleasure made your vision go completely dark, your mind short-circuiting as you stretched around him. Beneath you, Hamza’s massive body went completely stiff, his hips instinctively twitching upward as he felt you clamp tight around him. As the haze finally cleared, his calloused hands immediately gripped your hips, driven by a sudden instinct to take control and dictate the pace, but you caught his wrists and pinned them flat against the sheets above his head.
Out there, he was the Badshah of Karachi, a ruthless gangster. But right here, under your palms, he was just a man entirely undone by you. You dug your nails into his wrists, a silent command, and his grip slackened completely, yielding to the wild rhythm you set.
You began moving on him with an energy fueled by an insatiable hunger for your shohar. The quiet room filled with the rhythmic, wet sound of skin slapping against skin. The air turned humid, causing sweat to drip from your body onto his. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you threw your head back and cried out his name while your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers caught in the dark hair of his chest, your nails scratching over tight muscle and leaving angry red tracks. You leaned down, burying your teeth into the junction of his neck and collarbone, biting hard enough to leave a mark he couldn't hide, a brand showing exactly who owned the Badshah. Under your teeth, his chest surged upward with a sharp, ragged hiss, his large hands flexing hard against your hips as he absorbed the beautiful agony of your claim.
You pulled back just enough to crash your lips against his, your tongue forcing its way inside. Instead of fighting for control, Hamza’s tongue tangled with yours, yielding completely to you. You bit his lower lip hard enough to draw the warm taste of blood, sucking the drop away before he could gasp for air.
Your nails dug into his shoulders as your pace turned frantic. Beneath you, Hamza's hips bucked upward, slamming against yours as he tried to chase your rhythm. He was entirely out of his mind, his body tensing under the onslaught. You noticed him staring straight at your breasts, watching the way they moved up and down with your wild pace as you rode him.
With mercy, you guided his rough hands straight to your breasts. Hamza didn’t need an invitation. His large fingers started fondling your skin with a desperation that matched your stride.
"Ya Khuda... Begum, aap jaan le lengi aaj," he choked out, throwing his head back into the pillows. His beard pointed to the ceiling as he fought for air.
You gripped his messy hair, tugging sharply to force his eyes back to yours. "Look at me, Hamza," you whispered, your lower lip grazing his rough mustache. "Bataiye, kiska kabza hai aap par?"
"Aapka... sirf aapka, meri jaan," he rasped. His voice trembled as his hips bucked up, desperately chasing the friction.
Then, everything became a blur of heat and tangled limbs. With one final, deep grind, your body tightened around him. Hamza’s entire body went stiff beneath you. He let out a low groan, arching off the bed as he poured himself into you. The heat forced a helpless moan from your lips. You arched your spine, throwing your head back as you gripped his chest tightly, your nails digging in and leaving his skin raw and red.
The silence of the suite rushed back in, heavy and warm, broken only by your ragged breathing. You collapsed against him, resting your cheek on his chest as your fingers tangled in his dark hair.
"Agar mujhe pata hota ki underworld ke sabse khatarnak aadmi ko handle karna itna aasaan hai, toh main kabka aapse nikah kar leti," you teased softly, pressing a kiss against the fresh bite mark on his collarbone.
A low rumble started in his chest, breaking into a quiet laugh. He shifted, burying his face in your neck and pressing a firm kiss against your pulse point.
"Yeh khulasa sirf aapke liye hai, Begum. Baahar ki duniya ke liye Hamza Ali Mazari wahi khatarnak aadmi hi rahega," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his arm tightened around your waist. "Par is kamre mein... main hamesha aapke aage ghutne tekunga."
The heavy doors of the bridal suite clicked shut, leaving the wedding noise behind. The room smelled of fresh roses and attar, but your attention was anchored to the man by the arched window. Hamza Ali Mazari. Your father's greatest political asset, the underworld's quiet terror, and as of three hours ago, your legally wedded husband.
You tossed the crimson dupatta onto the settee, laughing softly. For years you'd harbored a massive crush on this giant of a man, staring shamelessly at him across your father's political gatherings. He hadn't bothered to change out of his black silk kurta. True to his everyday aesthetic, the top three buttons were already undone, showing a dark expanse of hair and the firm line down the middle of his chest.
You kicked off your heels. The clatter made him turn. His eyes scanned you under furrowed brows, his jaw clenched. His beard and mustache framed a mouth that looked carved from stone, and his shoulder-length wavy hair fell like a dark halo, making him look wild and entirely untamed. Right now, he looked like a cornered lion.
You closed the distance, tracing your hennaed fingers along the lapel of his open kurta. "Siyasat ne toh apna kaam kar diya, par sach bataun? Iss shaadi mein sabse bada faida mera hi hua hai.”
He stiffened as your nail grazed his collarbone. "Aapko kisi baat ka darr nahi lagta, Begum?”
You laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that shattered the heavy tension in the room. "Darr? Apne shohar se kaisa darr? Aur waise bhi, itne buttons khol ke ghoomte ho poore sheher mein, nazar toh lagni hi thi meri." You stepped into his space, crowding him against the window sill and grabbing the lapels of his kurta to pull him down. You had spent months eyeing his incredibly broad chest, and having it right here at your mercy was intoxicating. "Matlab, seriously, look at these," you teased, sliding both hands inside the silk to explore the hard, muscle underneath. "Karachi ka sabse bada aur khatarnak aadmi aur uske itne khoobsurat.... assets. Jameel Jamali ki badi beti ki kismat sach mein bohot achi hai.”
A flush crept up his neck into his beard. There wasn't much left in this city that could rattle him, but he had no defense against a bride treating him like a five-course meal. He gently caught your wrists with his large, calloused hands. "Khuda ke liye, thodi toh haya rakhein. Yeh theek nahi hai,” he murmured, his eyes wide as he caught a hunger he couldn't hide.
"Bilkul theek hai, Hamza." You popped the fourth button and pressed your mouth to the pulse at his throat, feeling him go completely still. "Aap bohot reserve rehte hain, I know. Par is kamre mein sirf hum dono hain. Aur main saalon se is raat ka intezaar kar rahi thi.”
That cracked him. His hands, which had tried to push you off, wrapped around your waist and pulled you in instead. He dropped his forehead against yours. "Aap sach mein paagal hain.”
"Sirf aapke liye, shohar ji." You laughed against his skin, your fingers threading through the dark hair on his chest.
You didn't move for a while, content to use him as your pillow. Then you stepped back, your hands sliding to his shoulders as you gripped the silk. "Yeh kurta toh ab bas rukaawat hai. Utaar dijiye isse. Mujhe apne shohar ko theek se dekhna hai.”
Hamza swallowed. He didn't argue. He pulled the kurta over his head and dropped it on the floor. His chest was broad, dusted with dark hair running down to his stomach. You bit your lip, taking your time looking.
"Mashallah... kisi ki nazar na lage," you said, pressing your palms flat against his skin, feeling him flex under your hands. "Par sach kahun toh meri khud ki nazar hi nahi hat rahi.”
A low groan moved through him. His hands hovered over your lehenga, his fingers grazing the zardozi work, completely unsure. "Aapka yeh joda... aur yeh itne saare zevar... bohot bhari hain," he said, his voice catching. "Mujhe inhe theek se kholna nahi aata." A deeper flush climbed into his beard.
You laughed, and the gap between his terrifying reputation and his fumbling with hooks and clasps made your chest ache with affection. You took his wrists and pushed until the back of his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit.
"Toh mat kholiye, Hamza." You traced the line down his chest, then kissed his collarbone, moving lower until your mouth rested right over his rapid heartbeat. "Zevar aur kapde main khud utaar lungi. Aap bas wahi kariye jo mujhe pasand aaye.”
He let out a shaky breath, his hands finally moving to close around your waist, pulling your hips against him as he pressed his face into your stomach.
"Begum, aap aadhi jaan toh meri aise hi nikal chuki hain," he muttered against your skin.
You tilted his head back so he had to look at you. "Bachi hui aadhi jaan bhi khushi khushi de dijiyega, Hamza." You kissed him, slow at first, and then with a sudden, deep hunger. "Kyunki abse is poore shareer par, aur is seene mein dhadakne wale dil par, sirf aur sirf mera kabza hai.”
You didn’t give him a second to think. Your hands slammed against his heavy shoulders, shoving him back. Hamza hit the mattress hard, his massive frame sinking into the white sheets, his long, wavy hair spilling out like ink. He didn’t fight it. He just lay there, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes with a quiet, completely uncharacteristic surrender.
Kicking the heavy, suffocating layers of your bridal lehenga to the floor, you didn't waste time. You stripped out of the inner skirts. Impatiently, your hands reached down to undo the silk drawstrings of his salwar, yanking the fabric down and flinging it carelessly to the floor. Your gaze swept over him as you memorized his massive form. Your shohar. A low, rough sound rumbled deep in his chest, not a protest, but a heavy exhale of pure, unadulterated anticipation. You straddled his narrow waist in one fluid motion.
You paused for a fraction of a second, taking a heavy breath to calm your wild heart before your hand finally closed around his length. You stroked him with a slow, deliberate friction just to watch his chest hitch. A low, guttural groan scraped past his throat.
Enjoying his torment, you slowly released your grip and shifted your weight, guiding his hot tip right against your aching center. You paused there for a breathless second, letting the intense heat press against you before you finally lifted your hips and sank down, taking him in completely until there was no space left between you.
A sharp moan tore from your throat, instantly met by his deep, ragged groan as you fused together. The overwhelming rush of slight pain and intense pleasure made your vision go completely dark, your mind short-circuiting as you stretched around him. Beneath you, Hamza’s massive body went completely stiff, his hips instinctively twitching upward as he felt you clamp tight around him. As the haze finally cleared, his calloused hands immediately gripped your hips, driven by a sudden instinct to take control and dictate the pace, but you caught his wrists and pinned them flat against the sheets above his head.
Out there, he was the Badshah of Karachi, a ruthless gangster. But right here, under your palms, he was just a man entirely undone by you. You dug your nails into his wrists, a silent command, and his grip slackened completely, yielding to the wild rhythm you set.
You began moving on him with an energy fueled by an insatiable hunger for your shohar. The quiet room filled with the rhythmic, wet sound of skin slapping against skin. The air turned humid, causing sweat to drip from your body onto his. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you threw your head back and cried out his name while your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers caught in the dark hair of his chest, your nails scratching over tight muscle and leaving angry red tracks. You leaned down, burying your teeth into the junction of his neck and collarbone, biting hard enough to leave a mark he couldn't hide, a brand showing exactly who owned the Badshah. Under your teeth, his chest surged upward with a sharp, ragged hiss, his large hands flexing hard against your hips as he absorbed the beautiful agony of your claim.
You pulled back just enough to crash your lips against his, your tongue forcing its way inside. Instead of fighting for control, Hamza’s tongue tangled with yours, yielding completely to you. You bit his lower lip hard enough to draw the warm taste of blood, sucking the drop away before he could gasp for air.
Your nails dug into his shoulders as your pace turned frantic. Beneath you, Hamza's hips bucked upward, slamming against yours as he tried to chase your rhythm. He was entirely out of his mind, his body tensing under the onslaught. You noticed him staring straight at your breasts, watching the way they moved up and down with your wild pace as you rode him.
With mercy, you guided his rough hands straight to your breasts. Hamza didn’t need an invitation. His large fingers started fondling your skin with a desperation that matched your stride.
"Ya Khuda... Begum, aap jaan le lengi aaj," he choked out, throwing his head back into the pillows. His beard pointed to the ceiling as he fought for air.
You gripped his messy hair, tugging sharply to force his eyes back to yours. "Look at me, Hamza," you whispered, your lower lip grazing his rough mustache. "Bataiye, kiska kabza hai aap par?"
"Aapka... sirf aapka, meri jaan," he rasped. His voice trembled as his hips bucked up, desperately chasing the friction.
Then, everything became a blur of heat and tangled limbs. With one final, deep grind, your body tightened around him. Hamza’s entire body went stiff beneath you. He let out a low groan, arching off the bed as he poured himself into you. The heat forced a helpless moan from your lips. You arched your spine, throwing your head back as you gripped his chest tightly, your nails digging in and leaving his skin raw and red.
The silence of the suite rushed back in, heavy and warm, broken only by your ragged breathing. You collapsed against him, resting your cheek on his chest as your fingers tangled in his dark hair.
"Agar mujhe pata hota ki underworld ke sabse khatarnak aadmi ko handle karna itna aasaan hai, toh main kabka aapse nikah kar leti," you teased softly, pressing a kiss against the fresh bite mark on his collarbone.
A low rumble started in his chest, breaking into a quiet laugh. He shifted, burying his face in your neck and pressing a firm kiss against your pulse point.
"Yeh khulasa sirf aapke liye hai, Begum. Baahar ki duniya ke liye Hamza Ali Mazari wahi khatarnak aadmi hi rahega," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his arm tightened around your waist. "Par is kamre mein... main hamesha aapke aage ghutne tekunga."
synopsis- Uzair holds Aslam daughter captive to use her as a scapegoat for information while she bewitches him with her softness to avenge her dead father
a/n- its a lil short 5k words :P but its here yaya please read and interact died writing it ( majak jokes jokes can you tell its 4 am ugh) very divergent from the actual plot of the movie
Trigger warnings- Age gap 32-21, neglected child, death, gore, crimes, gun, crude language, periods, masturbation(M)
Blood dripped down the bonnet of the coal black SUV, the sunlight finding its way to reflect on the part that were covered in red, atop sat a man you had known for most of your life in your father curses, sometimes on the television, somewhere in the back of the poster his very pixelated self always living in the shadow of his brother- the reputed Rehman Dakait. It wasn't an unknown fact that Rehman was dead now, in fact it was the news that had shaken up the whole of Lyari and got the weight of your father's shoulder significantly.
You recalled the scene from a few weeks back, the running broadcast, the cries on the TV, people shouting tributes outside the hospital when your father returned home his usually impeccably clean kurta covered in dust, his hair ruffled and coarse, his body sinking and unable to hold itself up due to the injuries,you had bolted up to meet him,to put his bruised arm over your shoulder only to be met with a quiet command to move over that stayed in your more than any of the shouts could ever have.
It was a quiet declaration that you will never belong with him, not in the way a kid does to their father.
It was clear your father had killed the man, he spewed hate at the sight of him, his words transcending from curses from him to the balochs and then there was this other name mentioned, the one that made your cheeks flush and hide your face from your family because even when said with dripping with venom, it was his name, a man you had come to admire before you knew it - Uzair Baloch.
He sat stop the bonnet hoarding the barely alive body as a prize, a warning tied at the front of his car, you could recognize the bloody disfigured face from the times he had spent at home talking low with your father in the hall not even a month ago, Uzair hands did not hesitate using the kasai knife on his neck with relentless blows till Arshad pappu neck barely hung on to its body thin lines of stretched over skin and then even that thin string was cut off.
You were not supposed to be here, a walk down the street had come to you going to your favourite secluded place in the part where you maybe were not even welcome but it called for you at times, the empty terrace top of the now secluded tall building. Rehman’s part of the town was not meant for you but then again your father didn't bother to check up on your whereabouts and no one saw you as anything other than a face in the crowd, you were the ghost daughter of Aslam after all.
The sweat stuck at the neckline of his khakee colour suit that was now decorated with splatters of blood, his eyes bloodshot and fixed on the head as he screamed expletives to the head in his hand, vengeance often drowned the moral consciousness and this was a clear case for it because what brutalities one had to go to, to perform something so vile and not even flinch, what level of agony have they drowned in that ‘this' feels like peace.
The gruesome scene had you stuck in place, a little behind the ground but you were still there, close enough to hear the last bated breath from Arshad lips and the rumble of Uzair's chest, you wanted to move, you wanted to run but it your legs were in a quicksand, the control over your own body slipping with each passing second. The wet mud engulfed you to the point you felt you had sunken three feet under the ground unable to believe all that you were watching right now, the head being kicked around into the crowd, the screams of people, the trail of blood it left behind made bile rise at your throat.
Then there was another prop with the lifeless landing in your direction, everyone in front of you moved but you were stuck in that same quicksand and you dreadingly came into the line of his sight.
Years of watching him with starry eyes only for the first encounter to be this catastrophic, those brown eyes grounded you the heavy feeling of swamping replaced by something as helpless as how weak your knees felt at the sight of him. The way his broad chest heaved made your own breathing break into small vulnerable pieces, the thick dark waves of hair glistening under the sun and falling over his forehead he was the storm and cold at once, from the way his gaze pierced you with a burning intensity and the way his jaw remained shut tight like you weren't there at all.
Then came the crashing realization of this outrageous display, this madness all for his brother that your father had killed, maybe he was calculating, for you to be the next target.
You shrieked ducking your head into your dupatta with clammy hands running away
He looked down Arshad's head and where it had lolled too, the dirt sticking to the blood, the blood that had stained up his sleeves, he doesn't even remember how many men he killed today but he lashed that blow till the ache in his heart a felt a little less hollow, till his brother felt revenged for.
Over the dirt of the city, blood on his hands and the hate in his heart all he saw was her
The first life you had was short lived to the exact number of six years, it ended with a scream of from the end of the Hall, the next thing you saw was your father on the ground clutching his stomach as blood leaked out in ample amounts, staining back at the wall where he did your yearly height measurements, you were so excited you were finally six and going to watch a new line add up to the list but it was all smudged now just like your memories, there stood your ‘father' so sternly like he hadn't shooted your abbu jaan.
What was his crime anyway? It was to have you with his wife before they were married , and it was for his wife to hide the truth from him until now and too meet your abbu in secret at times
Your ‘father’ took you in,his house was bigger,better like the one you had seen in cinema, his house had a tv that meant you did not need to watch it from outside of a store or from a neighbours window, that luxury the colours of the house, the new toys all of fell flat to the wall you shared with your baba, scribbling cows that looks like horses or vice versa into the old chipping away wall, you couldn't understand why did he had to take it from you.
To Aslam it was a matter of pride and in all glory he couldn't keep the only man apart from that had touched his wife alive, not when his face couldn't find the space for him in his heart. Your mother well she never found it for anyone not for your father or your ‘ father' or for the kids and as well as you and to Aslam's misery taking away a life did not make her wife any more closer than she was to him before because as much as it stinged she simply did not care, nothing in the world existed for her except from her herself or maybe that what you had know from what you saw and what you remember because at 7 she was gone, in the same dark world where your father was.
It was an accident, a car driven too fast crashing the honourable police men wife, it was tragic it made headlines on the newspaper filled out column and then a week passed it was nothing more than a photo hung up in your room, the bedding here was more comfortable than the mattress you and your father snuggled in but the sleep never came easy here, it was a constant battlefield of memories you didn't need anymore, an endless thought of what show next when you close your eyes now, 6 years of your life you can't go back to ever or the one year of your mother's cold silence.
And then there was your father a loving family man with two daughters and a son and one charity case he kept in his house, on days you wondered if he felt guilty for taking away a child’s father right in front of their eyes, guilty enough to keep you in his shelter not guilty enough to feel phased by your yearning eyes as he played with his daughters, watched the stupid cartoon with him with them draped over his lap while you sat in a cold corner on the floor and before you knew you had learned to crave him to be your father.
Because him being your father meant you would start existing in their space, you were well fed and clothed and had your own room but you were not there, not in birthday parties, not in festivals, not on trips to restaurants but why ? You were such a good girl weren't you? The sweetest one thats what Abbu has always said so then why were you not with the restaurant but in the kitchen waiting for the dinner to cook, why was there no celebration of your birthday, why did he always forget to shop your clothes for your eid why did you always had to go with the servant minute to get something, why was your eidi sent to you by the servant’s hand and not his, if your abbu said you were the dearest then why could not this man think the same?
What could you make out from the conversations you had witu him they were limited to a morning and good night and silent stares across the room, or the way his smile visibly dropped at the sight at you but mom was not there anymore to check up on you occasionally and your abbu was long gone and so was his warmth and now you needed him to love you to feel something again other than being a shadow in an opulent house.
One day that passed with the same brooding intensity that the others did you saw your ‘father’ coddling up his second born since she had scraped her knees on the way home, he whispered praises to her till her crying subsided into sniffles under the caress of his coarse hand moving every so gently to caress the back of her head. Later you found yourself at the very top stair breathing nervously as your small feet fiddled to step out in the air and fall down to fight against the natural instinct of your body to keep yourself, grubby fingers twisting into your frock half in an unconscious fiddle half to keep yourself to hold back from saving yourself as you jumped down the stairs.
The cold marble clashed with your skin hard enough to leave behind faint purples and blues, the hard edge of the stair digging into your stomach once before you finally met the floor with a thud, “ baba” was the first word to leave your lips and come to your mind and the face flashed before you was the face of the man who was never coming back to save you lost into the skies afar and all that remained was the man in front of you right now. You were facing the front of his khussi shoes as he watched down at your battered form for barely 2 seconds before walking past your battered self but there remained some broken memories of him sleeping beside you, holding you into his chest but it couldn't dull the coldness he showed in the moment.
And the rare times you got some sense of compassion when you were conscious was when a boy pulled your hair in a fight undoing half of your braid and Aslam had walked into the school to find you crying outside in sand, knees scraped , face stained with tears and dirty. He carried you all the way back home talking to you about mundane stuff , the weather, the classes at school before asking what happened and watched his expression darken when you mentioned a boy did it “ Itni kamzoor hai kya meri bacchi joh ek ladke se dar gaye?” He knew how to say it to a kid to make them feel braver than they were,You shook your head firmly, hiding in his chest, “ Nahi baba”
Another time being when you were 12 and woke up from your nap with a harsh crump in your stomach and and a large stain at the back of your frilly skit that bled through the bedsheets into the mattress, you knew what it was but none of your sister and your mother remained a picture on the wall and it was already time people had started leaving work to reach home in time for eid the house devoid of any servants and caretakers both your sisters at their phuppo left only one person for you to run to was your ‘father’ rested against the pillow, sprawled on the leather like a wild animal nursing a glass of wine in one hand the other holding the phone to his ear spewing out elaborate curses one after another to the poor man on the phone
“ Abbu” you whispered standing anxiously at the door before treading soft your steps as light as a feather as you treaded slow to him, he did not hear you the first time continuing on the phone, “ Abbu” you said more loudly and he was absorbed on the phone in whatever has made him miserable today, “ Abbu” You said loud enough to understand he heard you, saw you and was just ignoring you.Ignoring the pain that stirred in your chest and travelled painfully to the pulse of your wrist, you gathered yourself up again ,
“ Abbu khoon aa raha hai” he paused, putting down the phone “ Kya?” “ Khoon aa raha hai..aur dard bhi ho raha hai” You sniffled watching your feet, hands clutched and twisting the fabric of your skirt, he held your hand walking you to his room, a place you were never allowed inside of and the second you entered it felt like a whole different world, the air warmer inside with the lighted incense of lavender, old ghazals played in low tunes in the background the lights warm and pale orange painting the white of the wall in its shade, you could see what he did all day by how things were put out it showed how he lived in, the cigar burn out on the ash tray that rested right beside the poetry book on his bedside table. The half finished glass of whiskey on his table and the clothes he had scattered out when he was going to drop his children to their relatives, and the half hidden photo of your mother covered by his thrown off clothes that felt a little too intentional to be accident but you could also see how much how her remained in his room.
The clothes were still in the clothes pressed and folded once and then never opened again, and you knew that lavender scent was not his choice but your mothers because you always smelled it when she picked you, the sweet smell of her hair making you fall asleep quicker than usual, he was a man drowning in grief no matter how hard he tried to hide it always found its way back to him, unable to throw away the wedding photo that was still up on the wall or the brush that still had her hair sitting so dauntingly on the vanity along with her bangles that she did not up on the day of her accident because it looked like she was trying to hard with them.
Aslam shuffled through his cupboard feeling slightly skittish as he handed her the pad, “ yeh kaise use karte hai” You looked up at him you really did not know, how were you supposed to. He sighed patting your head like you were an untrained pet before telling you calmly, you nodded wiping your face. “ Yeh lo yeh phen lo”
He handed you his kurta opening the bathroom door for you, your insides felt like they were falling off and above all it felt weird this was his space and you were bleeding in here. Carefully you tried to stick on the pad on the fresh underwear you fetched but it did not work and the feeling grew more uncomfortable by the second till you had no option but to call for him again .
He saw you standing with new tears and got to work, showing you how to actually use it, peeling off and sticking up the parts in the place, “ Baaki pata hai aapko? Ek hafte tak chalega yeh aur har teen ghante change karna hota hai” You nodded your eyes fixed on his face rather than his hand as he explained to watch some of that cold expression fill your heart with uncertain hope.
You sat in the middle of his bed holding in whimpers, the texture felt weird between your legs and the fact that you were supposed to put up with this for the next 30 years or so scared you, he reached back into the drawer pulling out the tablets he always kept handy used to the routine after having two daughters, moving mechanically so to boil the water for you to drink to soothe the pain. You swallowed the pill yucking out loud when you accidentally tasted it. The taste was so bitter and crass, he ruffled your hair with a chuckle you had never heard from him before.
Pain was the only thing that brought you two together a once in a blue moon event where he would go as far as checking up in your room to see if you were sleeping and read you stories if you could not but never did he looked at you once when you were in front of his kids or allow you to step out when relatives or his associates were home, and the more you grew the more the distance came back, he hated how none of his kids looked as much as wife than you did, a carbon copy of the woman he had loved with such devotion once to the line of your eyes and the smile of your laughter to the very way you sat reminded him of her- a thought he wanted out of head for years now, you reopened the wound he tried to cover in with duty and intoxication and the dirty life he carried on .
You passed in the first division of your school, standing at the door with your sister, your father knew the result was going to be released today and he was walking over with a wide smile, asking and hugging her daughters as they went off excitedly, whining to him to send them abroad. You opened your mouth to speak the smile plastered wide on your face but he never asked you , they all went into the house without a word to you. You tailed behind trying to hold up the same smile, awkwardly fakely but your heart was really waiting for him to ask, he never asked. You watched him send off all of his kids abroad out of town to study with only you left in the empty house with him- he never asked. It was so unfair your grades were higher you deserved it so much more than any of them did but what could you even say to him? You were already indebted to him, as he is raised his harlot wife kid, and what was he going to say to you , that as if your father could have provided better for you than he did.
Two years pass in that agony watching every friend you ever made get busy with life and leave you behind, two years that passed in watching your hard spent night of studying catch dust in the alimrah the air had grown so suffocating that you wished he had killed you off with your father that day, but then came the unexpected change he asked you to have dinner with him, actually spoke with you about how everything was going. You were frustrated you couldn't understand him even if you tried but that small childish part of you craved for his attention , craved for the time you were not the one on the floor watching tv but curled up in his like a daughter and the day he would see you were his daughter.
The were in your room changing into the anarkali he had just gifted you when you head a bang outside too harsh for it to be your father’s usual way of dealing with thing that he did not liked, he resorted to throwing things but it wasn't that it was a screech of what sounded a lot like bullets going off, other loud thump that was definitely the sound of door breaking and your heart instantly jumped to the thought that had captivated you since days now, the gaze of Uzair that left an imprint on your skin, was it him? Were you really next?
You stood there like a coward, trembling in your room while he destroyed everything you had ever known, recognising the loud clatter of glass breaking that was most your mother’s most ardently , the one you made the servants put in fresh flowers everyday. You were supposed to go out and do something but were you? The thought hit before you allowed it with every going off bullet isn't this what your ‘father’ deserved at all, who were you save him at all when he killed your abbu right in front of your eyes
But so also dangled the naive hope of the life that could have come after this ,after your ‘father’ has finally found time to talk to you and give you a gift with his very own hands for the first time in your life, with unsteady hands that felt like they were going to fall off your bodies you twisted the door knob opening the door slowly, the sound that couldn't reach the confines of your locked room now uncovering in layer the incoherent shouting clear now, the pained grunts of your ‘father’ hitting you like a kick to the gut, he was losing.
You wanted the close back down and never come out, but the light from outside had found its way in so had the eyes of the men who stood bloodied, from the narrow opening the last thing you saw was Uzair, your eyes dragged over his arm that held the glock in his hand to the stern posture of his chest as he stood scornfully up straight for someone who had blood on his hands, they stopped at his face to watch the ice frigid expression of his face he as embraced himself for the impact of the shot, the loud crack went off the air smell of the gunpowder and your eyes shifted quick to see what the barrel was pointed at, tilting your head slow. Your father remained lifeless on the ground with the grisly wound right between his eyes “ Uzair bhai yeh kya kiya isko nahi maarna tha” you heard the word over the whirlwind of emotion wrecking your nerve, and when three seconds passed with your eyes fixed at the same daunting sight you realised Uzair had not spoken a word since and the way your body was burning with the feeling you couldn't pin over what had happened.
He was looking at you, FUCK, you looked him in the eyes accidently the coldness so rigid the devastation came incredibly fast, with your hands fumbling with the lock twice before you scrambled back falling very back on the floor, the white your anarkli catching at the afternoon light and falling at your from the very back, looking extremely haloed at your ruins, the long skirt of silk and softness moved on its dancing beautifully in sync with the rhythm of your heart thrashing at the cage of your ribs as the door banged open, with every tremor that ran down your whole body it slides smoothly over your skin, you looked back at Uzair and strangely he still managed to pull you out of that quick sand, the death you just witnessed replaced with the fear of him.
He didn't care to tone down his touch as he manhandled you onto his shoulder without a word, the dull green contrasting with your swan white, presaging what was to come.
Painfully he dragged you out of the car without not a single word shared between him and his men and from the look of it his revenge wasn't complete yet, the misery sinking the under line of his eyes. You were scared teeth clattering in shivers that didn't seem to stop and his grip was of iron over your wrist, holding it so hard you were it would bruise.
Uzair hauled you inside the haveli that was a crumbling beauty owing up the schemings of your father, you couldn't fathom what he was doing, he could have killed you right there why drag you here maybe he did not meant to kill you at all, the other idea forced itself into your mind spreading a traitorous heat through your body - you were disgusting
Screaming you struggled over and over to free your hand and vexed by the way you struggled constantly against him “CHORO CHORO!” your screaming only intensified jarring at the empty walls of the house, “Chup kar” He finally grunted out barely audible and he fastened his pace moving to a room, you redoubled your effort but all of it went to vain, when you reached the dreaded door frame he pushed you inside but you held tight at the wooden edges refusing to fall into the dark room that promised nothing.
You utilised something different turning to face him at the same time he was going to grip your back and push you in with all his force, the front your dress teared with a loud chirp the ‘charrrrr’ going off into the void, the neckline of your anarkali torn and left in his hand while you had hit the ground from the duress of the shove.
Your cleavage fell full out on display but you were too paralysed with the fear too move, his eyes fell on the flesh for a fraction of second before locking onto your face with those unreadable eyes for what felt like an eternity, he threw the torn fabric back at you striding out the door, locking you inside with a click so loud it echoed throughout the vast haveli.
Uzair did not intend to touch you, you were only here because he needed the information he didn't get out of Aslam when he was alive, so he was going to get it out from you or that's what he told himself. At the display that graced his vision he could not bring himself to look at something that you did not offer even after how tempting the heave of your rising and falling of your chest was the terror stricken face and the disparity of how you looked at him.
The fear was evident but so was the unnamed feeling same from the day he had seen before, locked onto the way moisture sat atop your lips and quivery they were calling him to devour and satiate his thirst , how your eyes glistened from tears you had spilled out and how beauteous you were, the fear combined with your entrancing beauty had him unable to control himself , this wasn't the time or the day but he was painfully hard.
He pulled the string open to his salwar, torturing himself with the slowness, he had not felt this way in months, he had not felt this unrestrained when he was cutting off Arshad’s damn neck. The shallow broken breaths and how close they were to his skin moments ago was a catalyst to the fire. He wrapped his rugged hand tight around his twitching long, eyes rolling back at the sensation, fuck he did not even know your name but you already felt his. He had encountered the softness of your palm in between the pulling and pushing, shuddering at the idea of you holding his throbbing cock instead of him.
He ran his hand up and down, stopping at the top to catch the pre cum from his mushroomy head to make the action more slick, fisting his hard length with the brewing possessiveness in his heart. He rejoiced in your fear because he understood that's not what it was alone continuing the rhythm with eyes closed and all that stayed at his closed eye lids was your face, the trembling screams and screech and what send him over edge was the recallment of you whispering his name so low it got carried away in the breeze, but he heard and the way you said said it between your struggles like you had known him all his life, the familiarity pairing sickly with the distress and that damn saintly white he had derelict-ed.
For the time his release shot out, sticking to his own hands and stomach you were a parizad in his eyes.
a/n - yaay its finnally here had been stalling it for weeks now, hope you all would like it I promise the reader was only completely helpless for this chap baaki there is more to unfurl about the family as well lots of angst
Summary:— He married her for his wife. He hunted her down for himself. She came back for reasons she'll never say out loud.
The days after didn't change, and the routine felt like a physical weight.
Faizal still dragged his feet when it was time for his afternoon nap at two. His milk still had to be heated to exactly the right temperature, or he’d push the cup away with both hands, glaring up at you from his small study table as if you’d personally insulted him. In the kitchen, the parathas still hissed on the iron tawa; outside, the morning azaan still rose over the compound wall, followed by the gravelly voices of Rehman's men shifting crates in the courtyard below.
But there was a new pressure in the air.
Ulfat didn't look through you anymore. The blank, milky stare she had carried since the funeral was gone, replaced by something sharp. You would find her standing at the end of the long corridor near the boy's room, her fingers hooking into the carved woodwork of the doorframe. When you walked past, her eyes followed the movement of your throat as you swallowed. You kept your head down, focusing on the floor tiles, pretending the hairs on your arms weren't standing up. It was just your imagination. It had to be.
The guard came on a Thursday evening.
You were folding a stack of Faizal's clean clothes, his small kameezes and socks, when the shadow blocked the doorway. The men never crossed the threshold into the family quarters, but his voice was loud enough to break the quiet of the room.
"Sardar aapko apne study mein bula rahe hain."
The fabric slipped from your fingers. Rehman Baloch had never sent for you after dark. You pulled your dupatta tight across your chest, your hands suddenly cold and clumsy, and followed the guard's heavy boots down the hall. The yellow wall-sconces cast long, distorted shadows ahead of you.
The study door was ajar, letting out a thick scent of stale tobacco and heavy wood polish. Rehman stood by the tall window, his broad back blocking most of the moonlight. He didn't look back when your hesitant footsteps paused just inside the door.
"Ander aao. Darwaza band kar do."
You clicked the heavy latch shut and stayed by the wall, keeping your eyes on the intricate maroon patterns of the Persian rug. "Jee, Sardar? Faizal theek toh hai?"
"Faizal theek hai."
He ground his cigarette into a brass ashtray with unnecessary force. When he turned, the lamplight hit the deep, dark purple pockets under his eyes. His shoulders were slouched forward, stripping away the fierce posture he usually held in front of his men.
He walked around the heavy mahogany desk, his slippers dragging slightly on the rug, until he stopped a few feet away.
"Tumhare abba ki halat kaisi hai ab? Chote bhai ki padhai? Factory se jo paise bheje ja rahe hain, woh kafi hain?"
The sudden questions made your chest tighten. "Jee... aapki bohot meherbani hai. Guzara bohot achhi tarah ho raha hai. Main hamesha aapki shukur-guzar..."
"Mujhe tumhara shukriya nahi chahiye," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. He looked past your shoulder, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, filling the gap between you. "Mujhe... kuch aur chahiye."
You kept your hands folded in your linen suit, squeezing your own fingers until they throbbed.
"Ulfat ki halat din-b-din kharab hoti ja rahi hai," he said, his tone flat, empty of its usual authority. "Doctors kehte hain ke agar uske zehen ko koi umeed nahi mili, toh... puri tarah pagal ho jayegi. Main usey is tarah khatam hote nahi dekh sakta."
"Begum sahiba bohot takleef mein hain," you whispered, your throat dry. "Lekin... main ek mulazim hoon. Main kya kar sakti hoon?"
He stepped closer. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne was overpowering.
"Usey apna beta wapas chahiye. Ek naya bacha, jisme mera khoon ho. Aur tum janti ho....Ulfat ab maa nahi ban sakti."
Your breath hitched. You looked down at his leather sandals, unable to process the words.
"Main tumse nikah karna chahta hoon."
The word hung there. Nikah. It didn't belong in this dark, wood-scented office. It belonged to wedding music, family gatherings, and red silk. It didn't belong to a transaction in the middle of the night. Your eyes darted to the brass buttons on his vest, counting them automatically because looking at his face felt dangerous.
"N-Nahi..." The word was thin, breaking in your throat. "Sardar, aap yeh kya keh rahe hain? Main... main ek mamooli ladki hoon. Aapke ghar ka namak khati hoon...."
A sharp creak echoed directly behind you.
Your spine locked.
Ulfat didn't slide gracefully out of the shadows; she was just suddenly standing right there by the edge of the bookshelf, her bare feet pale against the dark rug. There was no cloth doll in her arms tonight. Her hair was tangled, but her eyes were piercingly clear. Terrifyingly clear.
She walked over without a sound and stopped close enough that you could smell the stale rosewater on her clothes. Without a word, she raised her right hand and pressed her palm firmly against your stomach.
You flinched and stumbled backwards, but Rehman’s hand came down heavily on your shoulder; he didn't squeeze, but his weight anchored you to the spot.
Ulfat looked up into your face. Her skin was gray under the lamp, but her hand stayed pressed against your belly, warm and heavy. A tear slid down your nose, and she caught it with her thumb, smearing the wetness across your cheek.
"Ghabrao mat," she whispered. Her voice didn't shake. "Tum meri choti behen jaisi rahogi. Tumhare abba ka sheher ke sabse bade hospital mein ilaaj hoga. Tumhari maa ko kabhi haath nahi phelana padega." Her palm pressed a little harder into your flesh. "Bas... tum mujhe mera Naieem wapas de do."
You looked at Rehman. He was staring at the wall behind you, his mouth drawn into a thin, tight line. He looked like a man who had exhausted every option, a man who knew exactly how monstrous this was but was going to do it anyway.
"Faisla tumhara hai," Rehman said, his voice flat. "Bahar jaogi toh wahi tumhara purana ghar hai, wahi bhookmari hai. Yahan rukogi, toh is ghar ki izzat banogi."
Images flashed through your mind : not in a grand sequence, but in sharp, ugly bursts. Your father’s paralyzed arm hanging uselessly over the side of the string cot. The empty flour canister in the kitchen. Your little brother gluing the sole of his shoe back together for the third time.
Your knees felt weak under the weight of Rehman's hand.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded once.
Ulfat didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into her chest. She gripped you so tightly it hurt, her fingers digging into your shoulder blades. She buried her face in your neck, releasing a ragged, choking sob that sounded like a lock finally snapping open.
Over her shoulder, Rehman slowly looked down at the floor, his face completely blank as the clock kept ticking.
The inner double doors crashed against the walls as Ulfat came rushing into the study, her breath hitched in panic.Behind her, Naeim strode in with an expression that shifted from utter confusion to immediate, horrified amusement the moment he clocked the absolute circus unfolding in the room.
Faizal, still trailing behind his mother, saw the chaotic assembly and clapped his small hands in pure delight. "Sab log ladayi kar rahe hain! Abbu phir se gussa ho gaye! Yaaay!"
"Rehman! Khuda ke liye kya hua? Pura Havelli kyun sar par uthaya hua hai?" Ulfat gasped, as she looked between her heavily panting husband and her daughter, who was still standing like an unyielding shield in front of Hamza.
Rehman looked like a man who had been struck by lightning. He pointed a trembling, thick finger at Alisha, his voice cracking in absolute paternal betrayal. "Ulfat! Tumhari beti… yeh… yeh barbaad ho gayi hai! Isko dekho! Yeh is awaara, gundey, do-takey ke driver ke biceps aur chhati ki tareef kar rahi hai mere samne! Main marr kyun nahi gaya yeh din dekhne se pehle!"
Naeim’s jaw dropped low "Hain?! Alisha aur Hamza Bhai?! Yeh kab hua? Mujhe toh kisi ne bataya hi nahi!"
Rehman snapped his head toward his elder son, his eyes flashing with a brilliant, dangerous fire."Tujhe sharam nahi aati? Teri behen haath se nikal gayi hai, aur tu yahan khade khade bakwas kar raha hai? Tu bilkul apne is nalaik Uzair Chacha par gaya hai! Khuda ki qasam, dono ke dono bilkul bekar ho!"
Uzair, who was still practically trying to dissolve into the floral wallpaper near the corner bookshelf, raised his hands defensively. "Bhai! Isme mera kya kasoor hai? Main toh subah se bol raha hoon ke isko do chipkaliyon ne kaata hai! Iska dimaag kharab hai! Alisha, tu gawaah hai na, main toh bilkul shareef aadmi hoon!"
Naeim finally spoke up confused, " Alisha, tera dimaag thik hai? Tu toh kal tak bol rahi thi ke Hamza Bhai ka chehra dekh kar tera mood kharab ho jata hai!"
"Aap chup karein, Naeim bhai !" Alisha snapped, her silver jhumkas tinkling violently as she whirled around to face her brother. "Mera mood ab bilkul thik hai! Aur haan, main inhi se nikah karungi!"
"Ammi!" Alisha turned to her mother, her silver jhumkas tinkling furiously as she stamped her transparent heel. "Aap bhi Abbu ki tarah baatein mat karein! Main koi mazaak nahi kar rahi hoon. Agar aap dono ne mujhe Hamza se nikah karne ki ijazat nahi di... agar aapne humare beech mein koi bhee rukawat daalne ki koshish ki, toh main abhi bol rahi hoon... main kal hi inke sath bhaag jaungi! Phir aap dhoondte rahiye ga humein poore Pakistan mein!"
"ALISHA!!!" Rehman roared, slamming both hands on the desk.
Beneath his charcoal-grey kurta, Hamza’s heart practically stopped beating. He raised his large, calloused hands in absolute, panicked surrender, looking at Rehman with wide, frantic eyes. "Rehman Bhai! Khuda ki qasam, yeh sab maine bilkul nahi bola! Maine inhein flat par bhi samjhaya tha ke aisi baatein mat karein! Main bhaagne ki iss plan mein bilkul shaamil nahi hoon, Bhai! Main toh aapka wafadar hoon, mujhe toh aapke saath rehna hai!"
"Tu chup kar, saale namak-haram!" Rehman barked at him, using Hamza’s own stuttered mistake from earlier. "Agar itna hi wafadaar tha toh bhenchod tere flat par kya chal raha tha?" Rehman bellowed, stepping closer, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. "Meri beti subah-subah tere kamre mein kya kar rahi thi, Hamza?!"
"Abbu, aap unhein kyun daant rahe hain? Main apni marzi se gayi thi!" Alisha snapped back, tilting her chin up. "Inhein toh bohot tez bukhaar tha! Yeh wahan akele pade hue thay! Agar main na jaati, toh inka kya hota?"
Ulfat, unlike her hysterical husband, didn't scream. She stopped, blinked, and then let out a very long, very deep sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ya Allah... maine toh pehle hi shaq kiya tha. Jab yeh subah college ke bahane gayi thi, aur iske kapdon se pyaz ki khushboo aa rahi khana banane waali... tabhi mujhe samajh jana chahiye tha."
Rehman’s head snapped toward his wife so fast his neck cracked. "Hain?! Tumhein shaq tha?! Ulfat, tumhein sab pata tha aur tumne mujhe nahi bataya?! Pura Baloch khandan peeche se saazish kar raha hai aur main yahan akela baith kar dhanda dekh raha hoon?!"
"Arrey, mujhe pakka nahi pata tha na!" Ulfat defended herself, walking into the room. "Magar Rehman, aap chillana band karein. Pehle baat toh suniye—"
"Kya baat sunoon?!" Rehman roared, throwing his hands up in absolute exasperation. He turned on his son, Naeim, who was still trying to look casual while whispering something something to Uzair under his breath. "NAEIM! Apne baap ka ektaaz dekh raha hai? Teri behen ek gunde ke sath bhaagne ki baatein kar rahi hai aur tu wahan khada khada kacha kheera chaba raha hai! Apne baap ka sath de! Bilkul apne Uzair Chacha jaisa nalaik banta ja raha hai! Bilkul wahi darpok waali harqatein!"
"Bhai! Mujhe beech mein mat ghasitein!" Uzair wailed from the corner, holding his hands up. "Main toh pehle hi bol raha hoon ke main masoom hoon! Mera is poore ishq-vishq mein koi haath nahi hai! Main toh bass driver hoon gadi ka!"
"Tu chup kar, Uzair!" Rehman snapped.
Naeim scratched his head, looking completely helpless. "Abbu, main kya boloon? Hamza Bhai se toh main khud darta hoon. Agar maine inhein kuch bola, toh yeh mujhe bina bandook ke hi do mukkay maar ke Lyari ke naale mein fenk denge. Main toh abhi apni umeedon ka sahara hoon."
"Nalaik! Sab ke sab nalaik hain!" Rehman grumbled, slamming his hands onto his waist, his face still a dark shade of angry crimson.
"Arey abbu aap mere piche kyun pade hain....y-yahan Alisha bhaag ke nikah karne ki baat kar rahi hai aur aapko sirf mere hi galtiyan dikh raha hai" Naeim groaned.
"Saale ek toh teri peeth peeche teri behen ishq lada rahi thi aur ab tu mujhse zubaan lada raha hai-"
"Hamza Bhai! Agar aap dono bhaagoge toh mujhe bhi sath le kar jana!" Faizal suddenly chirped, jumping up and down excitedly. "Main bhi gadi mein baithoonga! Aap ice cream khilayenge!"
"Faizal! Tu kamre se baahar ja!" Naeim scolded, grabbing his little brother by the collar of his shirt. "Yahan ghar toot raha hai aur tujhe ice cream ki padi hai!"
"Nahi! Mujhe yahin rehna hai! Mujhe dekhna hai Abbu kab goli chalate hain!" Faizal wailed, twisting out of Naeim’s grip and sitting flat on the floor.
Alisha walked right up to her mother, completely ignoring her father’s dramatic breakdown. "Ammi, aap Abbu ko samjhayein. Yeh faltu mein apni bandook nikaal rahe hain-"
Ulfat looked at Alisha, her expression shifting into that formidable maternal authority. "Alisha, beta, meri baat suno. Tumhein lagta hai ke shaadi koi khel hai? Sirf mohabbat se zindagi nahi guzarti! Shaadi mein bohot saari zimmeydariyaan hoti hain. Ghar sambhalna padta hai, rishtey nibhane padte hain. Tum kya sambhal paogi?"
Alisha’s temper flared instantly. She tilted her chin up. "Kyun nahi kar sakti main?! Ammi, aapko pata bhee hai? Jab Hamza ko itna tez bukhaar tha... jag yeh apne flat par akele pade hue thay, toh main poora rasta rickshaw mein beth kar gayi! Maine inke liye khana banaya! Maine inke mathe par thandi pattiyaan rakhin! Maine inka khayal rakha! Maine khud inke liye flat par daal banayi thi! Maine poora kitchen saaf kiya tha! Inse poochiye aap!"
The room went dead silent once more. Rehman’s eyes slowly turned toward Hamza, his expression shifting from furious rage to utter, absolute disbelief. "Daal? Meri beti ne... kitchen mein khana pakaya? Teree liye? Harami saala-"
Naeim let out another loud chuckle, leaning against the doorway. "Bhai... Hamza bhai, aap zinda kaise hain? Alisha ki banayi hui daal khane ke baad toh insaan seedha ICU mein jata hai. Aapka bukhar utra ya zahar chadh gaya?"
"Naeim, tu chup kar!" Uzair hissed, elbowing his nephew. "Hamza ka pehle hi halwa ban chuka hai, tu aur shakkar mat daal!"
Ulfat turned her gaze down to Hamza, an amused but serious expression on her face. "Bolo, Hamza. Alisha thik keh rahi hai? Tumne iski banayi hui daal khayi?"
Hamza stood rigidly, his jaw tight, his eyes darting toward the floorboards. He swallowed hard, his voice stuttering in absolute, helpless vulnerability. "J-ji... khayi thi."
"Aur... kaisi thi?" Ulfat asked, her eyebrows rising.
Hamza looked up, his dark eyes meeting Alisha’s glittering, anxious gaze for a brief second before he looked back at Rehman. The lazy, insufferable smirk was completely gone, replaced by that raw, heavy honesty that had torn from his chest during the midnight hours. "Bhai... daal toh... daal toh bilkul paani jaisi thi. Namak bhee zyaada tha... aur... aur thodi jali hui bhee thi."
"Dekha! Maine kaha tha na!" Naeim shouted, pointing a finger in triumph.
"Magar..." Hamza continued, his deep baritone dropping into a quiet, velvety hum that made the entire room collective hold its breath, "Maine apni poori zindagi mein... usse zyaada zayedaar cheez kabhi nahi khayi, Rehman Bhai. Kisi ne mere liye pehli baar chulha jalaya tha. Agar woh jali hui daal bhee thi... toh mere liye woh dunya ka sabse bada tohfa thi."
Alisha’s lower lip trembled instantly. A brilliant crimson flush spread across her cheeks, her eyes welling up with sudden, sympathetic tears as she tightly clutched the strap of her leather bag
"Ohoho... Hamza Bhai toh poore aashiq ban gaye hain," Naeim whispered to Uzair. "Mujhe toh lagta tha yeh sirf logon ki haddiyan todna jaante hain."
"Tu chup kar, kheere ke bacche," Uzair whispered back, though he was smiling now.
Rehman took a slow, heavy step forward, his massive frame looming over Hamza until he had practically pinned the younger man against the high wooden bookshelf. The silence in the study became thick, suffocating, and heavy with tension.
Rehman stared deep into Hamza’s unblinking dark eyes. "Hamza... meri taraf dekh. Aur mujhe sach sach bata. Yeh... yeh jo teri aankhon mein dikh raha hai... yeh ishq hai... ya sirf ayashi hai?"
Hamza didn't flinch. He adjusted his broad shoulders, his dark eyes filling with a fierce, lifetime commitment as a deep blush crept up his neck into his beard. "Ishq hai, Rehman Bhai. Puraani aur aakhri waali mohabbat hai. Agar aapko lagta hai ke maine aapke namak ke sath gaddari ki hai... toh aap abhi apni bandook nikaal kar mujhe goli maar dein. Main yahan se ek qadam bhee peeche nahi hatunga."
Rehman stared at Hamza for what felt like an eternity. His rugged face remained expressionless, his jaw tight. Then, slowly, he raised his massive hand and slapped it heavily against Hamza’s broad shoulder, making the younger man flinch slightly from the impact.
"Agar meri beti ki aankh mein ek bhi aansu aaya, Hamza..." Rehman growled, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying warning. "Toh yeh yaad rakhna ke main tere dono haath aur taang kaat kar Lyari ke samundar mein phenk doonga. Samajh aya?"
Hamza’s lips finally twitched into that familiar, lazy, insufferable smirk. "Ji, Rehman Bhai. Pura samajh aya."
Rehman let out a long, grumbling sigh, turning around and waving his hand dismissively toward the doorway. "Uzair! Khade-khade marmat ab. Ja, seedha Maulvi Sahab ko phone kar aur nikah ke liye sabse jaldi waali tareekh nikalwa. Is se pehle ke yeh larki waqai mein bhaag kar meri izzat ka halwa bana de!"
"YAYYY! SHADI AUR ICE CREAM!" Faizal screamed, throwing his hands in the air and lying back on the carpet.
Alisha let out a loud, high-pitched squeak of pure joy. She dropped her leather bag onto the floor, bypassed her mother entirely, and threw her arms around Rehman’s thick neck, her silver jhumkas tinkling in a chaotic, triumphant symphony against his collarbone. "Thank you, Abbu! Aap dunya ke sabse achhe Abbu hain! Mujhe pata tha aap meri baat zaroor manenge!"
"Haan, haan, theek hai. Ab thoda door hato, mera kurta kharab ho raha hai," Rehman grumbled affectionately, though he wrapped his large arms around her, hugging his princess tight. Over her shoulder, his sharp eyes met Hamza’s. He gave Hamza a stern, final nod.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on Rajkumar Hirani and Avinadh Arun's series Pritam and Pedro. All Original characters belong to them with exception of Y/N. This is made for entertainment purpose only.
Warnings: Bad writing😭
A/N: Been through the Writer's block for a while now so this might be shit. Read at your own risk😭
If there was one thing Pedro Gonsalves hated more than paperwork, it was rich people with smart homes.
The victim's villa overlooked the beautiful stretch of goan sea, all white walls, glass windows and expensive automation. Every light and electronics could be controlled through an app, every door had biometric locks, all the cameras uploaded footage to the cloud every 24 hours.
Which would've been impressive...if only the owner wasn't found dead inside the house and somebody hadn't wiped every second of security footage.
"Sir, the local CCTV DVR is clean. Whoever did this deleted everything." Jayant, approached Pedro with a tablet.
Pedro nodded towards the man sitting cross legged on the floor with three laptops open around him,"Usko dikhao."
The inspector hesitated,"Him?"
"Haan, usi ko."
Pritam Parker looked up from his laptop with an easy smile,"Good morning, Jayant sir."
The inspector looked at Pedro again,"Sir...?"
Pedro rolled his eyes,"Don't just stand here, dikhao Usko.. yeh sab cyber-wyber walo ka kaam hai."
Jayant gave him a look as he handed the DVR to Pritam,"...Sir aap bhi toh cyber waale hi ho-"
Pedro glared at Jayant so hard that Jayant decided it was best for him to just walk away from the scene.
Meanwhile,Pritam plugged another cable into the DVR.
"Interesting..."
Pedro looked over his shoulder,"Kya?"
"The killer deleted the footage."
"Haan-."
"But sirf delete nahi kiya"He enlarged a log on the screen.
"Dekho. Camera recordings gayi. Door lock logs gaye. Motion sensor history gayi."
Pedro frowned,"So?"
"So agar koi normal hacker hota, poora system uda deta."
"Hmm."
"Yeh banda selective tha."He tapped the screen,"Usse pata tha exactly kya delete karna hai."
The room grew quieter around them.
Even the investigating officer leaned closer, "So according to you...yeh murder tha?" he asked.
Pritam shrugged,"Murder tha ya nahi ...yeh toh aap log bataoge."
He looked toward the staircase,"Main bas itna bol raha hoon... jisne system hack kiya, usse crime scene ki kahani change karni thi."
Pedro had worked with Pritam long enough to know that whenever he started spewing a lot of information....he had noticed something.
"The body?" Pedro asked.
"Study." The investigating officer said.
The three of them walked upstairs.
The victim lay slumped on chair behind a massive teak desk, one hand stretched on the table while the other on the side. Blood stained the polished wooden floor, the edge of the carpet and one side of the wall.
Pritam didn't go near the body.
Instead, he slowly walked around the room.
His eyes moved from the wall...to the desk....to the small blood droplets on the bookshelf....then back to the body.
"Huh."
Pedro folded his arms."Kya hua?"
"I don't know."
"So helpful."
"I'm serious."
Pritam pointed towards the wall,"Mujhe forensic nahi aati, lekin agar body yahan mili hai..."
He pointed to the floor."...toh blood udhar itna zyada kyun hai?"
Pedro looked.
The blood spatter behind the desk looked unusually dense.The body, however, was metres away.
The inspector spoke first."Victim ne jab gun chalai, tab movement ke wajah se shayad blood waha gir gaya ho-."
"Ho sakta hai," Pedro admitted, nodding to the officer."But..."
"But?"
"I'd like someone who actually understands blood patterns to tell me I'm wrong."
The officer nodded once,"Fair."
Pedro pulled out his phone,"Ek expert ko bulata hoon. Then we will have all the answers."
The investigating officer nodded in approval and went to interrogate the others presnt in the house.
---
Pritam smirked,"Who are you calling, sir? Crime Branch ke Sherlock Holmes ko?"
"Nahi."
"Senior doctor friend of yours then?"
"Nahi."
"Toh?"
Pedro smiled faintly, "meri saali sahiba ko"
The phone rang once,"Haan Pedro bhai?"
"Aa sakti ho?"
"Case?"
"Murder."
"Fresh?"
"Teen ghante."
"Location bhejo."
The line disconnected.
---
Nearly fifteen minutes later, the soft puttering of a scooter drifted through the open front door.
A pastel blue scooter rolled neatly between two police vehicles.
The rider removed her helmet, hooked it over the handlebar and lifted a black forensic case from the footboard before walking towards the house.
Pritam happened to glance outside.
Then froze,"...Nahi."
She climbed the front steps, looked up and stopped walking.
For two whole seconds...neither of them spoke.
Then- "TUM?!"
Her voice echoed through the hallway.
Pritam pointed at her in disbelief, "TUM?!"
Every head in the room turned.
Pedro looked from one to the other.
"...Ek minute."
Y/N recovered first. She looked at Pedro.
"Bhaoji..."
"Haan...?"
"Yeh yahan kya kar raha hai?!"
At exactly the same time-
Pritam threw both hands into the air.
"Nahi, pehle yeh batao, YEH yahan kya kar rahi hai?"
Pedro frowned,"...Tum dono ek dusre ko jaante ho?"
Both answered without missing a beat.
"YEH SCAMMER HAI!" "Itni fussy customer maine zindagi mein nahi dekhi!"
Silence.
A constable quietly lowered the evidence marker in his hand. The crime scene photographer stopped clicking pictures.
Someone in the back whispered,"Sir... lagta hai doosra murder hone wala hai."
Pedro looked utterly confused.
"Scammer?"..."fussy customer..?"
Y/N folded her arms,"Isne mujhe vacuum cleaner becha."
Pedro looked at Pritam,"...Tum vacuum cleaner bechte ho?"
"Haa bola toh tha apko, Part-time karta hoon"
She continued as if he hadn't spoken,"Do saal ki warranty bolke becha."
"Haan toh thi na do saal ki warranty-"
"Teen din mein kharab ho gaya woh khatara!"
"Company ki problem hai!"
"Main ek hafte se customer care ko phone kar rahi hoon!"
"Main bhi kar raha hoon!"
She stared,"...Tum...bhi call kar rahe ho?"
"Haan, and they don't pick my calls either!"
Pedro rubbed his forehead,"Ek minute...Wait-"
Neither of them stopped.
"Tumne bola tha doorstep service!"
"Maine bola tha company degi!"
"Tum company hi toh ho!"
"Main salesman hu!"
"Mujhe farak nahi padta!"
"Mujhe padta hai!"
"Scammer!"
"Impossible customer!"
Pedro suddenly clapped his hands.
The sharp sound cut through the argument.
"Bas!"
Both fell silent.
Pedro pointed towards the house,"Yaad hai hum yahan kyun aaye hain?"
Neither answered.
"Murder. Vacuum cleaner ka consumer court baad mein laga lena."
A few officers coughed suspiciously to hide their laughter.
Pedro sighed,"Tum dono ke jo bhi personal issues hai, woh iss crime scene ke bahar rahenge."
He turned to Y/N,"Tum study mein jaake body dekh lo."
Then to Pritam,"Aur tu... please paanch minute ke liye chup rehna."
Pritam held up both hands,"Theek hai."
Y/N shot him one last glare before walking up to the study.
Pritam and Pedro followed and saw her kneeling beside the victim. In one smooth motion she tied back her hair, slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and opened her forensic kit.
The irritation disappeared from her face and turned into ultra sharp focus.
She examined the blood on the floor first, then the wall, then the victim's hands.
Pritam, who had every intention of looking away, found himself watching instead.
Five minutes ago she'd been calling him a scamner and now she was completely absorbed in a murder scene.
Pedro caught him staring,"Kya?"
"Nothing."
Pritam looked back at Y/N as she quietly measured the angle of the bloodstains,"...Bas soch raha hoon."
"Kya..soch raha hai?"
Pritam didn't answer Pedro, and instead kept looking at her for a second too long.
The anger from the earlier argument with him was still there, faintly visible in the set of her jaw, but it no longer ruled her face. That had happened the moment she opened her forensic kit. It was like someone had turned a key inside her and switched her from annoyed customer into a professional woman with far more important things to do.
Pritam found that a little unfair.
People who could do that should not also have such sharp beautiful eyes....wait...beautiful what? What was he even thinking!?
Pritam shook his head to get rid of those thoughts and continued watching her work.
The investigating officer, on the other hand, was too impatient for silence. He had already decided the shape of the case in his head, and his mind kept trying to force the case to fit that shape. Suicide. Locked room. Gun in hand. No visible intruder. It was neat. Tidy. Almost comforting. Men like him always loved a neat theory; it meant the world could still be explained by the things they already knew.
Y/N asked for a flashlight and a ruler. One of the constables handed them over immediately. Pritam did not miss the fact that she barely looked up when she took the ruler. That should not have bothered him. It was not as though they were friends. It was not as though they’d shared anything beyond one horribly memorable vacuum cleaner transaction and one very public argument over customer care. But still, some part of him had expected her to acknowledge him. Some part of him wanted to see her eyes on him.
She did not even glance in his direction.
And that, somehow, bothered him more than it should have.
She measured the angle of the blood spray against the wall, then the height of the chair, then the distance between the body and the desk. Her lips pressed together in thought.
“This is not a simple self inflicted shot,”she said as she stood up.
The officer frowned. “Ma’am, gun toh uske haath ke paas thi.”
She nodded once, as if that didn’t matter much at all,“Gun haath ke paas rakh dene se suicide nahi ban jaata.”
She walked behind the chair, careful not to disturb the evidence markers. The back spatter was there, as Pedro and Pritam had already noticed, but under her gaze it became something more precise.
“There’s too much blood on the wall behind the desk,” she murmured.
The officer blinked. “Gunshot ki wajah se?”
“Gunshot ki wajah se blood aata hai,” she replied, “par pattern alag hota hai.”
She glanced at the victim’s shoulder next, and then at the position of the chair. Her fingers hovered over the fabric of the backrest without touching it.
“This body was moved,” she said.
That actually pulled Pedro’s attention in more sharply.
“Moved?”
She nodded. “Haan. SIGSW ke cases mein body ki postion iss se different hoti hai. Jis position mein yeh mila, uske hisaab se iss particular angle mein, woh bhi itne pass se goli chalana is almost impossible.”
She pointed once, briefly, toward the floor behind the desk. “From my theory, primary blood loss yahan hua. Phir body ko utha ke is chair mein settle kiya gaya.”
The officer opened his mouth, likely to argue out of habit, but Y/N kept going before he could get there.“Also,look at the wound angle.”
She gestured to the victim’s hand and then to the revolver.
“Self-inflicted shot mein, specially for the side of the temple, the bullet should have a exit wound kyuki bohot pass se goli chalti hai. But I can't see any visible exit wounds here. And even the grip on the gun looks awkward."
Pedro stared at the victim’s hand.
It suddenly looked less like evidence and more like a prop.
Pritam tilted his head. He wasn’t pretending to understand the forensic details, but he understood enough to know when a scene was being dismantled piece by piece.
The officer finally asked, “Toh aap keh rahi hain ye murder hai?”
"Yes. But if you still want, you can wait for the PM report. I'll tell Dr. Tejas to fastrack it.” she said.
The investigating officer nodded and left to question the rest of the staff. Somewhere downstairs, someone was talking too loudly about cold chai, probably Dhattatrey. Pedro stayed where he was for a second, looking at the body, then at Y/N, then at Pritam, who had quietly gone back to his laptop.
This was gonna be a long one. Hopefully, once the case is done DIG sir would finally look into transferring him back to the crime cell.
---
The next few days slipped into a rhythm none of them had planned.
The murder investigation grew larger with every passing hour. Witnesses changed statements, forensic reports trickled in one after another, and Pritam spent most of his day buried behind glowing laptop screens while Y/N disappeared between the crime branch forensic lab and cyber cell carrying evidence files from one wing of the station to another.
Which meant they kept running into each other, not intentionally, of course not. Just... constantly.
The first few times, Y/N still looked at him with open suspicion.
She'd hand Pedro or Sherlyn a report, notice Pritam sitting beside them, and narrow her eyes ever so slightly and mutter,"I see the scammer is still here."
Pritam would sigh dramatically without looking up from his laptop,"Good morning to you too, Doctor Sahiba."
Pedro, already halfway through reading the report, would wave a dismissive hand.
"Arre bas bhi karo tum dono. Waise bhi Pritam jo bolta hai, ninety-nine percent sahi hota hai."
Y/N wasn't convinced.
"Haan haan. Mr. Genius hacker. Vacuum cleaner toh phir bhi kharab hi nikla."
Pritam pressed a hand to his chest as if she'd mortally wounded him.
"Theek hai. Main zindagi bhar uss vacuum cleaner ke liye taane sun lunga, just dont look at me like that."
She fought a smile.
Fought.
Unfortunately, she lost.
It lasted barely a second before she looked away, pretending to read her report instead.
Pritam noticed anyway, and it made his heart race. It was definitely because he was sitting infront of the laptop for hours...ofc it was, what else could it be?
---
As the investigation progressed, so did their partnership.
Pritam would recover deleted files and quietly slide his laptop towards her.
Y/N would skim through them, point out which timestamps actually mattered, and save him hours of chasing useless leads.
He stopped seeing her as the woman who had nearly dragged him to consumer court weeks ago.
But now, she has become the person who noticed details everyone else walked past, the way she'd absent-mindedly tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear while thinking, the tiny crease that appeared between her brows whenever something didn't make sense, the excitement in her eyes whenever science proved someone wrong.
He found it unfair.
She was already beautiful. Did she really have to be brilliant too?
Somewhere between reconstructed timelines and post-mortem reports, he caught himself waiting for the sound of a scooter in the cyber cell parking lot every morning.
He never admitted it. Not even to himself.
Y/N, meanwhile, found her opinion of him changing against her own wishes.
He was infuriating, ridiculously dramatic, hopelessly messy.
His temporary desk at the cyber cell looked like a coffee shop had exploded on it.
And yet...he never took credit for anyone else's work.(Unlike some people, *coughcough*Dhaatarey😑*coughcough*)
Whenever someone praised him, he was the first to say, "Forensics se confirm aya tha, Dr.Tejas did most of the work." or, "Maine nahi, Dr. Y/N aur Pedro sir ne yeh information nikala" , he thanked constables by name, he remembered to ask the canteen uncle about his daughter's exams.
One afternoon she watched him spend nearly fifteen minutes helping an elderly woman unlock her phone before returning to the murder case without a hint of irritation.
She blinked,"...Tum sabke saath aise hi ho?"
Pritam looked up."Kaisa?"
"...Achhe."
He smiled, "Maybe you're the good person between the two of us, isliye sabme acchai dikhti hai."
She looked away before he could see the smile threatening to escape,"haan haan woh toh usi din pata chal gaya tha jis din you sold me that useless vaccum cleaner"
"aree yaar...app-", he was about to defend himself again when he noticed the playful smile on her face, and abruptly stopped, looking away as he felt that familiar rush of weird warmth spreading in his chest.
Y/N only giggled, maybe he wasn't a scammer.
Maybe he was just a terrible salesman.
There was a difference.
---
Pedro noticed none of it.
Not the way Pritam automatically saved the chair beside him whenever Y/N was expected.
Not the way Y/N unconsciously walked over to his desk instead of calling him across the room.
Not the way their arguments had become lighter, softer, ending more often in laughter than frustration.
To Pedro, they were simply doing what good investigators did.
Working well together.
He had no idea that somewhere between murder files, forensic reports and deleted server logs...his apprentice had quietly started falling for his sister in law.
And his saali sahiba, despite every promise she'd made to herself after buying that terrible vacuum cleaner...was beginning to look forward to seeing the salesman every morning.
---
The breakthrough in the case arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.
With three people quietly doing what they did best.
Pritam had spent the better part of two days rebuilding deleted fragments from the villa's smart home network. Most of it was useless, failed login attempts, corrupted backups and incomplete logs but buried beneath thousands of lines of recovered data was one anomaly he couldn't explain.
A phone, one that wasn't registered to anyone living in the house, it had connected to the villa's WiFi dozens of times over the last three months, always in the late afternoon, always after the victim's wife was at work.
He missed it before because it had never appeared in the guest access logs because someone had manually authorised it through the owner's phone.
Pedro frowned at the screen.
"...Affair."
Pritam nodded slowly,"I think so."
Y/N, who had been comparing the victim's call records with the post mortem timeline, quietly placed another file beside them,"It fits."
Both men looked at her
"The victim had traces of a second person's perfume on his shirt collar. I ignored it initially because I thought it belonged to his wife.", She opened the report,"It doesn't."
Pedro's eyes narrowed.
"The wife doesn't use that brand."
Y/N shook her head.
"And before you ask..."She turned another page,"...we recovered a thin auburn hair from his cuff that some idiot didn’t send it for testing thinking its dog fur"
Pedro blinked,"Dhattatrey..."
"Who else" Y/N added sighing.
Silence settled over the table.
Pritam looked at the recovered WiFi logs again, Pedro looked at the witness statements, Y/N looked at the forensic report.
Sherlyn said, " could it be the assistant?"
"No...she has long black hair" Pedro murmured.
"The interior designer?" Pritam guessed.
Y/N slowly looked up," nuh uh, it has to be the event planner lady...she was crying a lottle too much...for a client's..death."
The room went quiet.
Pedro grabbed the witness statements again.
The event planner.
A woman who claimed she had visited the villa only twice.
A woman who had cried convincingly during questioning.
A woman whose phone number...
Pritam's fingers flew over the keyboard.
"...Found her."
Pedro leaned closer.
The recovered WiFi MAC address matched a phone registered under another name.
One that belonged to the victim's "freelance event consultant."
Except...The call records showed nearly three hundred conversations over six months.
She wasn't his consultant. She was his mistress.
And on the afternoon of the murder...
She had been inside the villa.
Not only that, The smart irrigation controller in the garden had unknowingly logged movement near the rear exit nearly twenty minutes after the supposed time of suicide.
Exactly enough time to stage the room.
Pedro slowly smiled,"Chalo."
---
The arrest happened before sunset.
She tried to deny everything.
Then she tried blaming the wife.
Then she claimed the victim had become violent.
But the evidence refused to cooperate with her story.
The digital trail.
The bloodstain reconstruction.
The staged crime scene.
The bruising.
The recovered messages Pritam managed to restore from cloud fragments.
By the time Pedro placed the handcuffs around her wrists, the case had already been solved.
Back at headquarters, the atmosphere felt noticeably lighter.
The DIG himself walked out of his office carrying the completed file.
"I'll admit," he said, looking around the room, "initial report dekh ke mujhe bhi suicide hi laga tha."
Pedro scratched the back of his neck.
"Sir..."
The DIG smiled,"Good work, Gonsalves."
His gaze shifted to Pritam,"Especially you young man, good job."
Then to Y/N,"And Doctor L/N, excellent forensic observations as always."
She nodded politely,"Thank you, sir."
Pedro cleared his throat,"...Sir, ek chhoti si request thi."
The DIG sighed dramatically,"Mujhe pata tha."
"Crime Branch..."
The older man laughed,"Ek case solve karke transfer thodi mil jaata hai, Pedro."
Pedro sighed.
"But..."
Pedro straightened.
"...solve a few more like this."
He closed the case file with a firm clap.
"I'll personally recommend your transfer to the DGP."
Pedro's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning,"Thank you, sir!"
The DIG pointed toward the door,"Ab jao."
"Sir?"
"Celebrate."
---
An hour later, they found themselves at a tiny beach shack overlooking the sea, Pedro called his wife over to join the celebration.
The shack had fresh seafood, soft music drifting lazily through the salty breeze.
Pedro insisted on paying.
Stacey rolled her eyes and quietly paid the bill before he could.
Nobody mentioned it.
Y/N narrated the whole story to her sister animatedly, the case became a funny story halfway through dinner.
"So..." Stacey looked at Pritam,"Vacuum cleaner ka kya hua?"
Pritam raised his hands up in a mock surrender, "Maine manager se baat kar li hai...they will replace it by next week."
Y/N smirked,"See? Consistencey is key." Everyone laughed, Pritam stared at Y/N laughing, carefree and so at ease. God this woman would be the death of him.
Pedro shrugged and went back to arguing with Stacey about who had cheated at cards the previous weekend.
Completely oblivious.
By the time they left, the roads had emptied.
The sea breeze had turned cooler.
Y/N reached for her scooter keys before remembering...
"...Workshop."
She sighed,"I forgot."
Pritam jingled his bike keys,"Lucky for you..."
She looked at him.
"...main available hoon."
She rolled her eyes, but sat down anyway.
The ride home was quieter, comfortable.
The city lights slowly gave way to quieter residential lanes until he finally stopped outside her gate.
Neither moved.
Neither seemed particularly eager to end the evening.
Y/N removed the helmet and handed it back,"Thanks."
He took it carefully,"No problem."
Another silence. Longer this time.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
She watched him with growing amusement.
He looked...Nervous.
The same man who could dismantle encrypted servers without blinking suddenly couldn't seem to look her in the eye.
Finally, he laughed awkwardly."Main..."
"Hmm?"
"...ek baat poochun?"
"Poocho."
He took a deep breath.
"I know tum abhi bhi mujhe kabhi kabhi scammer samajhti ho..."
She smiled "I do."
"...lekin..."
He looked everywhere except at her.
"...would you... umm...maybe... kabhi... mere saath bahar chalogi?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Which, for approximately four of the longest seconds of Pritam Parker's life, felt exactly like rejection.
"Oh."
He smiled sheepishly.
"It's okay. You don't have to say yes-Main bas-"
She stepped closer.
Close enough that he forgot what sentence he had been trying to finish.
There was that familiar little crease between her brows.
Except this time...
She wasn't thinking about blood patterns.
Or forensic reports.
Or murder.
She was looking at him.
"You know," she said softly, "for someone who's supposed to be a genius..."
He blinked.
"...you're surprisingly slow."
Before he could ask what she meant, she reached up, gently took hold of the front of his jacket...
...and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
It lasted barely a heartbeat.
When she stepped back, his expression was somewhere between complete astonishment and total system failure.
She smiled, a small, mysterious smile he'd come to recognize over the course of the investigation.
"I think," he said, as she turned towards her gate, "that's a yes."
She disappeared inside before he could recover enough brain cells to go after her and he remained exactly where he was.
Helmet still in one hand, keys in the other.
Smiling like an absolute idiot beneath the porch light.
Somewhere inside the house, Y/N leaned against the closed door, unable to stop smiling herself.
Perhaps buying that terrible vacuum cleaner hadn't been such a bad investment after all.
Author’s Note: Hey guys, this is my first fanfic (and post)! I’ve been an avid reader, so I wanted to help out with the Dhurandhar drought. This version has Hindi/Urdu dialogues and there is another version which is fully written in English. Please comment so I can interact with you guys and hear your thoughts—I'd love to make friends with other writers and Dhurandhar fans! 💕
Tell me why I feel like Ananya Pandey (I imagined her as Tara in this story) would look so good with Uzair?! Anways this fic is about an arranged marriage….
Word Count: 5030
Warnings: None
Warning: These are fictional works inspired only by the characters portrayed in Dhurandhar created by Adithya Dhar. It does not reflect or represent the real-life actors or any real individuals. Nothing depicted is intended to endorse real-world behaviour. Reader discretion is advised.
As an only child, Tara had no sanctuary. The constant, bitter shouting matches between her parents turned their beautifully furnished house into a loud, stressful battleground. Her father, Sikandar Mansoor, was a cold tycoon who ran his home with the same rigid control he used to manage his textile factories. Her mother, Zareen, was an elite socialite obsessed with high-society standing, spending her days critiquing Tara's posture and hosting charity committees. The second the yelling started, Tara would slip out the back door, heading straight for the servants' quarters to find Razia and Zayn. They were the children of Sakina, the family’s maid, but to Tara, they were her real family.
Sikandar and Zareen detested her hanging out with them, viewing it as a stain on their name. If Tara was ever caught coming back from the quarters, Zareen would scrub her hands in disgust while Sikandar would threaten to fire Sakina on the spot. Class status was a weapon they used to keep Tara isolated, making those escapes her quiet rebellion.
Razia was a year older, tall and expressive, with a brilliant smile that eased Tara's anxiety instantly. Her twin brother, Zayn, carried a calm, steady presence that balanced his sister's fiery nature perfectly. Both of them always looked out for Tara whenever the chaos of the house became too much.
The three of them would crowd onto a woven charpai in the small courtyard behind the main house, sharing broken glucose biscuits. To pass the time, they played makeshift word games, which is where Tara's deep love for language started.
Inside the main house, Sikandar and Zareen always snapped at her for being "annoying," telling her she talked entirely too much. Over time, they forced her to become completely quiet and reserved just to maintain their polished public image. But Razia and Zayn knew her true self. With them, her bubbly energy and bright laughter never faded. Tara's real beauty only showed when she genuinely laughed—her entire face would light up, her eyes would widen, and her genuine warmth would completely break through her usual reserved facade.
She still remembered one brutal afternoon when her parents were shrieking inside about a failed corporate merger. Terrified, Tara fled to the quarters. Razia pulled her into their small room, holding her shaking hands tightly while Zayn hilariously mimicked the dramatic, gossiping high-society guests who visited Zareen's parlors. He did it so perfectly that he turned Tara's tears of fear into breathless laughter.
As she grew older, the pressure only got worse. Her parents constantly reminded her that she was just an asset, a pawn to be married off to a man of Sikandar’s choosing to secure corporate alliances and the local influence needed to protect their empire. Tara kept her vibrant side safely hidden from the elite crowds, finding her only real escape as an English teacher at a public school. Behind closed doors, her parents had furious, screaming fits over it, threatening to completely disown her for dragging their prestigious name through the dirt. Yet, the moment they were in front of their high-society circles, they completely flipped the script, proudly boasting about Tara's teaching job as if it were a noble charity initiative they had graciously funded themselves.
But her anxieties went far deeper than just a fear of being trapped. Tara’s greatest terror was ending up in a marriage that was completely loveless, hollow, and fake—an exact replica of her parents'. In public, Sikandar and Zareen meticulously maintained the illusion of a devoted, elite power couple. In private, however, the facade completely vanished. The only times they weren't screaming at each other was when they chose to target Tara instead. It was as if they resented her simply for existing, furious because she was the living proof of their marriage that forced them to stay together. Her second deepest fear was entering a home where she would be utterly ignored and dismissed, left to fade into the background exactly the way she had been at home her whole life.
When they finalized the arrangement with Uzair Baloch, Tara agreed on one strict condition: she demanded weekly dates before the wedding. She needed to know who this man truly was, desperate to ensure she wasn't signing away her life to another cold, performative prison. Truthfully, she was surprised her parents had even listened to her demand; perhaps, behind all the mind games, they were just as exhausted by the endless fighting as she was.
The first date took place two months before the wedding. Uzair didn't take her to the polished, manicured spots her parents frequently visited in Clifton or Defense. Instead, he drove her out to a quiet stretch of Hawksbay away from the crowds, stopping the jeep where the sea breeze hit the hardest. The heavy Karachi humidity hung thickly over the sand, and the dark Arabian Sea crashed rhythmically against the shore.
Before coming out to the sand, he had pulled over at a roadside stall, and now the warm, sharp scent of spiced fish and hot bun kababs cut through the salty air between them. Tara sat on the edge of the jeep's open bed, her fingers tightly gripping the cold metal. Looking out at the vast, dark emptiness of the coastline, a sudden wave of relief washed over her, grounding her raw nerves. She was immensely grateful he hadn't chosen some suffocating, high-end restaurant in the city. If he had taken her to a place with valet parking, she would have spent the entire night on high alert, suffocated by the pressure to maintain a flawless public image. Out here, with the salty wind in her face and the calming hum of the ocean, there was no audience and there was no one to perform for.
Uzair sat beside her, his massive frame completely leaning back against the vehicle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He didn't force a fake conversation. He simply just reached down into the oil-stained paper wrapping, took a bite of the street food, and looked out at the dark water under the moonlight.
“Khao,” Uzair said, his deep voice short and flat, but completely devoid of the harshness she always heard at home. “Isse pehle ke thanda ho jaye.”
Tara looked across the sand up to his sharp profile, her voice slightly stuttering. “Aap... aap khud toh kuch kha nahi rahe. Bas mujhe bura feel karane ke liye nakhre kar rahe hain.”
Uzair didn't argue. He just chewed rhythmically in the soft glow of the moonlight. “Kha toh raha hoon. Ab tum khao.”
Tara chewed her inner lip, a tiny crack appearing in her guard. At home, compliance was demanded with a shout. Uzair's blunt approach just left her alone in her own space, free from the crushing expectations of the Mansoor name.
“Mere... mere students aaj bilkul pagal ho gaye the,” she murmured, her true energy slipping out as her nerves dropped. “Hum vocabulary exercise kar rahe, aur ek chote ladke ne poori zidd pakad li ke 'fortress' ka matlab giant refrigerator hota hai. Main poore pandrah minute apni hansi rok kar usse samjhati rahi.”
Uzair’s lips twitched slightly, a barely visible dent appearing in his rugged jawline. “Refrigerator?”
“Haan! Aur itna confident tha na, hadd hai,” she said, a real, unforced laugh breaking through. Her eyes widened with enthusiasm as she used her hands to mimic a giant box. “Kehta hai mere mamoo ke kitchen mein ek 'fortress' hai jahan mahino tak gosht frozen rehta hai. Mera dil hi nahi kiya usse batane ka ke woh deep freezer ki baat kar raha hai.”
Uzair didn't interrupt her. He just finished his food and listened to her talk about her lesson plans and the books she wanted to buy, giving her his full, undivided attention until the night grew late.
Their second date took place at a quiet and low-profile rooftop tea spot near Stadium Road. The air smelled of strong cardamom, roasted corn, and lemon juice, and Tara was still finding her footing, shifting between long, quiet pauses and sudden bursts of talking while they sat on a low wooden bench.
“Meri ammi ne aaj poore teen ghante stage ke floral arrangements select karne mein barbad kiye,” Tara said, her fingers tracing the warm rim of her clay teacup. “Mujhse pucha tak nahi ke mujhe kya pasand hai. Bas keh diya ke white lilies photographs mein expensive lagti hain. Mujhe lilies se nafrat hai. Hospital jaisi boo aati hai unse. Mujhe umeed thi ke woh marigolds rakhne dengi, jo mujhe pasand hain.”
Uzair rested his thick forearms on his knees, watching the heavy traffic pass below on the main road. “Toh hum Haveli ke staff ko bol denge, woh agle hi din sab saaf kar denge. Waise bhi Ulfat bhabhi ko marigolds hi pasand hain. Unse hospital jaisi boo nahi aati.”
Tara turned her head, a small, genuine smile touching her lips before saying, “Lekin meri ammi kehti hain ke woh saste lagte hain, jaise signal par ek rupee mein milne wale. Unhein har cheez imported chahiye.”
"Haveli unka ghar nahi hai," Uzair muttered, his voice dropping an octave, solid and unyielding. "Jo andar hoga, hamare rules se hoga. Rehman bhai perimeter sambhalte hain, aur jo Ulfat bhabhi bolti hain, wahi hota hai. Unhein kaho apni lilies Clifton mein hi rakhein."
For their third date, roughly four weeks before the wedding, Uzair took her to a quiet, old park near the borders of the city during the late afternoon. It was far less manicured than the places her parents frequently dragged her to, but the shade of the ancient banyan trees felt relaxing.
The heavy silence of the afternoon hung between them. Usually, Tara would fill the space with endless stories about her school or her books, but today her shoulders were tense, her gaze fixed entirely on her boots as they walked. The approaching wedding date was acting like a physical weight, dragging her down.
In an attempt to shake off this feeling of suffocation, she stepped up onto the low, rugged stone border that lined the walkway, trying to focus on balancing herself. She walked with her arms slightly out, her movements careful as she hopped from one uneven rock to the next.
"Mere abba guest list mein mazeed do sau corporate clients badhana chahte hain," Tara mentioned. Her voice was barely above a whisper and lacked its usual bright energy. "Mujhse aaj keh rahe the ke shaadi koi intimate family dinner nahi hoti. Yeh ek corporate merger hai."
Uzair didn't slow his strides, keeping pace right beside her on the smooth path. He didn't look at the perimeter; his sharp eyes stayed locked on her feet. "Unhein jitne marzi log bulane hain bulayein. Saamne wala aangan family ka hai. Rehman bhai gates dekh lenge."
"Lekin agar unhone—" Tara started, turning her head too quickly to look down at him.
Her foot caught the jagged edge of a loose stone. She lost her footing completely, a small gasp escaping her throat as she tilted forward, slipping off the elevated border straight toward the hard, cracked ground.
Before she could even brace for the impact, Uzair moved. In one swift, effortless motion, his massive hands locked firmly around her waist, catching her cleanly mid-air.
The sheer momentum brought her right against his chest. For a second, the entire park fell completely quiet. Tara’s hands instinctively clamped onto his forearms, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs—not from the fall, but from the sudden, overwhelming proximity. Uzair held her completely off the ground for a beat longer than necessary, his grip iron-tight but remarkably careful, his sharp eyes searching her face to see if she was hurt.
He looked at her wide, startled eyes and the way her lips were parted in silence.
"Dhyan se chalo," Uzair muttered, his deep voice carrying a sudden, heavy gravity close to her ear. He set her back down onto the flat path, but his hands didn't immediately drop from her waist, ensuring she had her footing. "Aaj kuch ajeeb lag rahi ho."
Tara's face flushed a deep crimson. She looked up at him, her voice defensive but breathless as her fingers lingered on his linen sleeves. "Maine toh abhi theek se do sentences bhi nahi bole kyunki mera dimaag kahin aur chal raha hai."
Uzair's jaw tightened slightly, a barely visible trace of amusement passing through his eyes before he slowly let his hands drop back into his pockets. "Wahi toh. Mujhe pata chal jata hai jab tum nervous hoti ho."
He turned back toward the path, his stride slow and steady, waiting for her to catch up with him. "Tumhare abba ke guests main hall mein rahenge. Woh wahan nahi baithenge jahan hum baithenge. Awaaz gate ke paar nahi aati."
By their fourth date, three weeks before the wedding, they were sitting at a crowded dhabba near Gizri, surrounded by the roaring of passing rickshaws, loud laughter, and clinking teacups. Tara tried to navigate a fresh, burning paratha straight from the tawa and let out a sharp hiss, instantly dropping it back onto the plastic plate.
Uzair didn't ask useless questions or lecture her. He reached across the small table, took a heavy steel spoon, and cleanly broke the steaming paratha into smaller, manageable pieces before pushing the plate back toward her.
“Chammach use karo,” he muttered, gesturing toward the plastic cutlery beside her cup. “Haath mat jalao.”
Tara looked down at the pieces, her heart doing a sudden, hard flip. She picked up the fork, staring at the perfectly broken bites.
"Shukriya," she said softly, her voice carrying a rare, vulnerable weight over the noise of the dhabba.
Uzair picked up his own cup of strong chai, taking a slow sip. He didn't lift his gaze from the rim of his cup. "Kis liye?"
"Mujhe kisi aisi jagah laane ke liye jahan koi nahi dekhta ke main kaun hoon," she murmured, looking across at him as a rickshaw roared past their table. "Jab bhi family ke sath un high-end jagahon par jati hoon, toh lagta hai jaise koi audition chal raha ho. Ghar par toh halat is se bhi buri hai. Ammi ne khane par itni restrictions lagayi hui hain—ek ek nivala monitor karti hain ke society pages aur wedding photos ke liye flawless dikhna hai. Yeh sab itna exhausting ho jata hai ke aadha waqt toh main unki baaton se bachne ke liye theek se khati hi nahi hoon. Yahan bhale hi shor hai, par sukoon hai. Kkoi mujhe judge nahi kar raha, na hi meri plate ko ghoor raha hai."
Uzair set his teacup down with a firm, solid thud against the laminate table. His sharp eyes locked onto hers, entirely serious. "Haveli mein bhi aisa hi hai. Ek baar gate ke andar aagaye, toh baahar ki duniya andar jhaank kar nahi dekhti."
Tara looked up, her lips parting slightly. Uzair didn't lean in. Instead, his gaze shifted away from her, scanning the chaotic crowd of the dhabba and the roaring traffic of the street, almost contemplating the words before they left his mouth. Then, looking back at his tea, he whispered nonchalantly:
"Tumhara shohar hone ke naate, itna toh main kar hi sakta hoon."
The words hit her instantly. Tara’s breath caught in her throat as she caught his meaning, a sudden, intense warmth flushing across her cheeks. She quickly looked back down at her plate to hide the deep blush rising up her neck. The roaring streets seemed to fade into a dull hum, completely replaced by the quiet reality of what he had just stated so calmly. He wasn't just filtering out the high-society pressure for her anymore; he was completely stepping into her life to protect her space.
For their fifth date, they ended up at Dolmen Mall. Walking through the air-conditioned corridors under the bright lights, she felt a different kind of contrast. Uzair, in his usual dark salwar kameez with the sleeves rolled up, walked beside her with a slow, deliberate pace that made the rushing mall crowd naturally part around them.
"Ammi chahti thin ke main yahan designer boutiques par jaun aur post-wedding dinners ke liye teen aur formal tunics loon," Tara said, looking at the polished glass storefronts filled with mannequin displays. "Keh rahi thin ke agar main pehle hi mahine kapde repeat karti hui dikhi toh bohot embarrassing hoga. Keh rahi thin ke aapke side ke log sochenge Mansoor family ne apni beti ko jahez hi nahi diya."
Uzair didn't even look toward the high-end displays. "Wahi khareedo jo tumhein pehanna hai. Agar andar nahi jana, toh nahi jayenge. Haveli mein koi tumhare kapde nahi ginta. Rehman bhai ko koi farq nahi padta, aur Ulfat bhabhi ko bas is baat ki fikr hoti hai ke tum comfortable ho."
Tara smiled slightly, feeling the familiar, steady grounding he always brought. "Nahi, theek hai. Main bas corner wale bookstore par jana chahti hoon. Poore mall mein wahi ek jagah sukoon wali lagti hai."
Uzair simply nodded, changing direction without a single word and trailed behind her into the quiet, book-lined aisles.
The moment Tara stepped into the rows of tall bookshelves, her entire demeanor shifted. Her fingers danced eagerly along the spines of old history books, poetry collections, and classical novels. As she drifted from one shelf to the next, entirely lost in her own world, she would pull a heavy volume down, look over its summary with bright, excited eyes, and seamlessly hand it off backward toward Uzair without even looking.
She didn't even realize she was doing it. She was completely absorbed in the books, treating him like a natural, comforting presence that would just be there.
Uzair didn't say a word to disrupt her focus. His sharp eyes scanned the quiet rows, and every time her hand reached back with another book, his massive hands simply closed around the spine, stacking them carefully against his chest. By the time they reached the end of the aisle, he was holding a massive, heavy stack of novels, his posture completely unbothered by the weight.
When Tara finally snapped out of her trance near the register, she blinked, looking at his full hands with a look of sudden horror. "Oh my god, I am so sorry! Mera woh matlab nahi tha ke aap yeh sab uthayein, main bas—mera bilkul dhyan hi nahi raha."
Uzair didn't complain or wait for her to grab her purse. He stepped past her directly to the counter, setting the heavy stack down with a solid thud. Before she could even unclip her bag, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the cash, and handed it cleanly to the clerk.
"Main apne books ke paise khud de sakti hoon," Tara whispered, her face flushing slightly as the clerk began wrapping them up.
"Yeh Haveli ja rahe hain," Uzair muttered bluntly, taking the heavy paper bag in one hand. "Main dunga."
He turned and began walking toward the exit, holding the heavy bag securely in his left hand, while his right hand hung empty at his side.
Tara stood there for a moment, watching his broad back as he walked ahead. A sudden wave of courage overrode her usual hesitation. She quickly caught up to him, stepping right alongside his steady stride. Without a word, she reached down and slid her fingers into his empty right hand, lacing her fingers firmly with his broad, calloused ones.
Uzair stopped instantly, his entire frame tensing at the unexpected warmth of her touch. He looked down at their joined hands, and then up at her face, his sharp eyes filled with a quiet, intense surprise.
Tara looked up through her lashes, her face flushing a bright, beautiful crimson, but she didn't let go. She squeezed his hand gently and offered a small, defiant smile.
"Yeh meri taraf se payment hai," she said softly.
Uzair’s jaw tightened slightly, a heavy, unreadable emotion passing through his dark eyes. He didn't pull away. Instead, his large fingers wrapped securely around hers, shifting his grip to hold her hand completely against his side as they continued walking out into the mall together. As she pulled him forward toward the exit, Uzair just kept his eyes fixed entirely on their joined hands. A profound softness settled over his features as he stared down at the contrast of her smaller hand locked in his. He walked in a quiet trance, silently hoping that this simple moment wouldn't end, a deep sense of relief washing over him because she was finally comfortable with him.
Twelve days before the wedding, Uzair had come over to hand-deliver the last set of formal legal documents that Rehman Bhai had processed for Sikandar.
As he crossed the main foyer, Sikandar Mansoor came down the stairs, looking irritated as he called out blindly into the hallway. "Tara! Tara, neeche aao aur apne mangetar ko hello kaho!" When there was no immediate answer, Sikandar rolled his eyes, turning toward Uzair with an insincere, smooth laugh. "Inhein dekhein. Bilkul baat nahi manti. Jab bulayein toh dhyan tak nahi deti. Pata nahi shadi ke baad aapko kitna tang karegi."
Uzair stopped in his tracks, his large frame towering over the smoothly polished marble floor. He extended his arm and bluntly handed the heavy folder of legal documents directly to Sikandar, his sharp eyes narrowing as he looked at the man. His voice dropped into a cold, flat rumble. "Woh bilkul theek sunti hain. Kuch aur logon ki tarah nahi hain."
Sikandar’s smile stiffened, completely caught off guard as he took the papers.
"Aur waise bhi," Uzair added, his tone heavy with a direct roast, "usse apne hi ghar mein thoda dhyan paane ke liye har waqt itni koshish nahi karni chahiye."
Before Sikandar could form a response, Tara's mother entered, coming from a nearby room. Seeing Uzair, her expression instantly shifted into a sugary, high-society facade. "Oh, Uzair beta! Aapko dekh kar kitni khushi hui. Aayein, baithein, main staff se kehti hoon aapke liye fresh juice layein—"
Uzair looked at her, his expression remaining entirely flat. "Aadaab," he said respectfully but completely devoid of warmth, intentionally avoiding calling her his mother-in-law. "Shukriya, par main theek hoon."
Without waiting for her to continue, he turned on his heel and walked straight past them toward the upper residential wing, intending to find Tara himself. Behind him, Sikandar and his wife both stood frozen, scowling as they watched his retreating back, before turning to glare at each other in sheer frustration at his blatant disregard for their gestures.
Uzair moved down the quiet, carpeted corridor, looking for her room. As he passed a slightly open door, he slowed his stride. He had intended to just pop his head in and say hello, but the sight inside made him stop completely.
Tara was standing in front of a tall wooden easel, entirely immersed in her work. She was painting a canvas that depicted a beautiful scene under a soft twilight sky. In the center of the canvas, she had painted a portrait of a woman's back and a massive, broad-shouldered man's back, their hands carefully laced together. Even from behind, the figures strongly resembled the two of them.
Hearing his heavy footsteps, Tara turned around abruptly, her eyes widening in sudden fluster. She instantly moved to stand directly in front of the easel, trying to hide the canvas from his view. She looked completely different away from her mother's watchful gaze. Her hair was up in a loose, casual style held by a claw clip, with half of it tumbling down her shoulders. A small smudge of dark blue paint was smeared across her forehead, and her simple cotton kurti had a few colorful splatters on the sleeve.
Uzair stepped into the room, his large frame easily taking in her frantic attempt to block the easel. A barely visible, amused twitch tugged at the corner of his jaw. Instead of staying back, he deliberately walked closer, stepping right up into her personal space to peer over her head at the canvas she was desperately trying to shield.
"Oh," Uzair said softly, his deep voice carrying a rare, teasing undertone as he leaned in slightly to get a better look. "Yeh kya hai?"
Tara bit her inner lip, her face turning bright crimson, and she remained completely silent, unable to find a single word to respond under his close proximity.
Uzair's gaze lingered on her flustered expression, and then his eyes traced up to her hair. She quickly shook her head, trying to move a stubborn, stray lock of hair that had fallen directly across her eyes. She shook it twice, but the strand remained firmly stuck against her cheek.
Without a word, Uzair closed the remaining distance between them. He reached out, his thick, calloused fingers incredibly gentle as he caught the stubborn strand of hair and tucked it carefully behind her ear. His hand lingered for a fraction of a second against the soft skin of her jawline.
Tara froze, her breath catching entirely in her throat. She looked up, her wide, expressive eyes locking directly onto his sharp, intense gaze. Surrounded by the scent of fresh oil paint, the space between them shrunk to nothing. Uzair looked down at her parted lips, his chest rising and falling heavily. Drawn in by the sudden, overwhelming gravity, they both slowly began to lean in, their faces inches apart, almost crossing the line into a kiss.
SLAM.
A door closing firmly several rooms away echoed down the corridor, shattering the quiet.
The sound startled them both. They instantly pulled apart. Uzair cleared his throat roughly, shifting his weight as his gaze darted toward the ceiling, the window, the floor—anywhere but her face.
Tara’s cheeks burned a deep crimson. She awkwardly cleared her throat, nervously wiping her hands on a cloth. "Uzair... ruko. Main bas yeh paint saaf karke aati hoon. Tum yahin baitho. Main... main tumhein kuch logon se milwana chahti hoon."
As she hurried into her attached bathroom, Uzair stood alone, finally taking a moment to observe her room. It was completely unlike his own sterile, dark space, and vastly different from the rest of the cold, pretentious mansion. Her room was filled with soft light, simple wooden furniture, stacks of books, and small handmade crafts. It felt incredibly positive, warm, and simple. His eyes drifted to a small wooden shelf near her desk, pausing on a couple of framed childhood pictures of her—one where she was laughing wildly with a missing front tooth, and another where she was holding a giant teddy bear. A rare, genuine smile touched his lips.
The sound of the bathroom door opening made him snap out of it instantly. He straightened his shoulders, wiping the smile from his face just as Tara stepped back out, her hands clean and her expression determined.
Without giving him a chance to speak, she immediately walked up, grabbed him firmly by the wrist, and began pulling him forward to lead the way out.
Uzair didn't say a word to slow her down. As she pulled him through the room, his gaze dropped entirely to her hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was hard for him to get used to this new feeling.
She checked the hallway carefully, ensuring her parents weren't looking, and then secretly guided him down the back staircase, leading him out toward the narrow brick path at the edge of the property.
When they reached the quiet courtyard of the servants' quarters, Tara immediately ran ahead to where Razia and Zayn were sitting on the woven cot under the neem tree. The rigid reserve she kept around her parents completely vanished as she introduced Uzair to them, her voice bright with relief.
With the introductions out of the way, the two girls sat back down on the cot, completely caught up in their own conversation. Within seconds, Tara was gesturing wildly, laughing as she caught her friend up on everything, her voice carrying a lively warmth.
Uzair stayed back by the edge of the brick path, his massive frame blending into the deep shade of the concrete wall. He didn't interrupt her joy. He just stood there with his arms crossed, watching her from a distance as she laughed and talked with Razia.
While the two women remained entirely focused on each other, completely animated in their own world, Zayn noticed Uzair standing in the shadows. His posture turned tense and formal for a moment, recognizing the sheer weight the Baloch name carried in the city. After a brief hesitation, Zayn quietly stepped away from the cot, leaving his sister and Tara to their conversation, and walked over to the edge of the path alone.
Uzair watched him approach, taking in the protective stance the young man naturally had and the raw, honest worry in his expression. Uzair didn't look at the modest quarters with any high-society judgment or arrogance. Instead, he kept his voice low and private so it wouldn't disturb the women or carry back to the main house.
"Maine tumhari un lafzon wali game ke baare mein suna hai," Uzair said, his deep voice characteristically short and blunt, but entirely devoid of condescension. "Iska khayal rakhne ke liye shukriya."
Zayn let out a slow breath, looking back at Tara for a quiet moment before meeting Uzair's sharp eyes directly. "Yeh us bade mahal mein poori zindagi gayab hi rahi hai, bhai. Woh log toh is par tabhi dhyan dete hain jab unhein ise sabko dikhana ho ya is mein koi khonsh nikalni ho. Yahan bahar aakar yeh sukoon ka saans leti hai." He paused, his expression serious and grounding. "Bas ise ek aisi jagah dena jahan ise apni baat sunwane ke liye ladna na pade."
Uzair followed his gaze, watching the genuine, bright smile on Tara's face as she talked. His expression remained completely unyielding while his voice carried a quiet, absolute certainty. "Aisa nahi hoga. Mera poora dhyan hai is par."
As Tara talked with Razia, her gaze occasionally drifted back toward him. Watching the steady, unbothered way he stood in her world, she realized her standards had been completely raised; no one else could ever compare to the quiet, protective security he offered. In truth, she had already decided to marry him from the first few dates itself. She had only dragged the remaining dates out to get more time with him—and looking at the faint, knowing look in his eyes right now, she had a strong feeling he knew exactly what she was doing and shared the very same feelings toward her.
a/n- This is the second part to the two shot and i did not say it before I guess but stories is set in 2010, thanks to the loml @mujhekoimarsbhejdo For helping me out in writting the last part of this story so I could post it in time, truly a pyaara babiiie <33
warnings - 18+ UZAIR ( biggest warning here tbh) abusive language, forced marriage, scared!reader, toxic!reader and Uzair,dub con, non con (?), happy ending ig, no major repemption arch, misunderstanding, rough sex, cervix bruising, belly bulge, soft to rough ,misogyny,conservative
credits and thanks to @tojisloft
All your screams had become a repeated blur that fell deaf to his ears as he dragged you yet again into the car, the processes of your thrashing repeated with him finally arriving at the haveli.
It was eerily quiet according to the evenings spent there usually, when the sun sinked lowered hiding in the curtains of the clouds is when usually the haveli came to life, with Naem's and Faisal antics and the laughter shared since both Uzair and Rehman were finally back at home but it was all so empty today that even your screaming tantrum halted for a second
“ Bahar gaye hai sab” he spanked your bottom again, the world was literally upside down from over his shoulder, you yelped and slapped your hand on his back “ Choro mujhe!! Choro mujhe” You cried squirming back with full force, he didn't reply to your demands he didn't felt the need to, he only walked up stairs till he had reached the room throwing you on the mattress, his intentions clear.
You looked up ,your tear stricken face was of a dear that had found itself stuck in the headlights, your soorma mixing with your tears finding their way down the arch of your cheek, lips puffed up from crying so much a sight so beautiful Uzair blood rushed south,hardening instantly.
You clutched your sheer dupatta to your chest sniffling loudly, he didn't say anything just watched as your movements turned more uncertain about what you wanted yourself , Uzair leisurely lighted up a cigarette, the sound of the end catching fire flashing in the room with a small momentarily swish building up the anticipation of what he was going to do. You have fantasised about doing it with him some nights, when you weren't so scared of his presence itself thinking about giving yourself to him, if a thing so vulnerable will take out the ultimate softness of his heart but he looked like he had gotten worse, and you looked like you had been set ablaze in contrary to your dreams of gentle love making this looked like a nightmare, he appeared he was seconds away from tearing your clothes and fucking you into the matress for the stunt you had pulled off.
You could not just there like a helpless captive all evening you needed to say something even when the cold biting touch of the metal pressing in the side of your head still lingered
“ Jabardasti kiya hua nikaah jaiz nahi hota hai Uzair, khuda se toh daro”
“ Mujhay mazhab aur aqaid ki koi parwah nahi, aur is kamray ke andar main hi tera khuda hoon”
The declaration made you pause, the impact to go straight to the in between of your thighs
“ Sharam karo Uzair” you clutched the fabric tighter at your chest watching him go quiet with what looked a lot like regret or you did not know at all after all he really had not been what you were thinking he would be, but he was quiet now pummeling out long inhales and exhales of the grey smoke and just by a miracle per chance he had calmed down with the tobacco burning and filling his lungs.
Carefully you put down your feet on the ground, walking slowly for the first few steps before hurrying your way to the door to escape the suffocating air of the room, to escape him. Even when you had twisted the door knob open he still didn't happen to move from his place, you were going to be free. The happiness was short lived as he shouldered you in to the very door, shutting it close with a loud thud. “ Kaha jaa rahi hai?” His hands fisted into your scalp grabbing you by your hair he flipped you around to face him, the sligt sting bringing new tears to your eyes, you yelped glaring at him as he peppered kissing at the line of your jaw exposing the line of your throat with another harsh tug to your hair bending you as he wished. He instantly sucked a pale red mark into your neck, “ Biwi hai tu meri ab” He said the unbridled sucking changing into hot open mouth kisses so happy with the syllable that he had started humming despite his simmering anger
“Sun ki hi kitna accha lagta hai na jaanu”
“ Mujhe nahi lagta!”
You yelled genuinely thrown off by his crazy he was being, he pulled you into an erratic kiss, the world around crumbling into dust over the feeling of being razed so easily under his hand, the shock had made you gasp instinctively giving him way into your mouth, his tongue plunging into your mouth sweeping along yours, crashing, pushing you to submit not even pulling back when you had ran out of breath, the combined salvia running down the side of your mouth from how long he stretched the forced kiss, your hands slapping at his back and chest before finger curled into his suit for anchor to keep yourself conscious. You only found your breath back when he decided to pull back his lips finding their way to your neck again.
You whimpered your legs collapsing with how muddled your head was when his palmed the whole of your left breast squeezing roughly, almost moaning out loud you thrashed fighting against the invasion, but ending arching pushing yourself more into his grips, nipple hard and scratching against the fabric of your kurta that every movement from his coarse hand ached so bad, “ Uzair please” you tugged at his hair his mouth refusing to leave the plane of neck and collarbones, occupied to mark every inch you had dared to expose that was his, he twisted both the nipples hard through your clothes the pain and arousal clouded you, your legs buck your heat clenching around nothing and your hand moved innately connecting with his cheek with a loud crack.
Your breath stopped and so did his actions all together, his lips ceasing their tortuous action pulling back with his head still lowered. Your hand remained stuck to his cheek unwilling to pull it back and see the red blooming there and what he would do with you for this antic, “ Sorry Uzair… galti se hogaya… voh mai-” He cut your off with a loud inhibited laugh, throwing his head back, “ Kitna darti hai yaar” you remembered the same way he had scared you the night you met before, maybe it was all an elaborate joke he was still laughing wasn't he? You forced yourself an awkward laugh over your tears
He licked the inside of your palm, kissing up the soft arch watching you with hungry eyes, oh he wasn't joking, he picked you up yet again ignoring your kicking legs throwing you onto the mattress more stoutly than last time. You bounced slightly from the impact, scrambling back into the headboard when you found your body in your control again and that was the last time you did that night really. He lurched forward yanking your kurta over your head in a speed that was inhumane, “ Mujhe chor kar jaa rahi thi? Koi rishta nahi tha na humara, ab hai” he snagged the bra in one go, pausing to admire your body and how your heavy breast looked at him ,warm and inviting and you also froze under the worship of his eyes, letting him engulf and soothe the dark peak in his mouth.
You moaned clutching at the bedsheets at the very new sensation that burned between your legs from how he caressed your nipple, circling his tongue around it in an unsatiated appetite other hand kneading the other abandoned side,
“ Uzair choro!”
You whined but you were also the one who was leaning into the touch, pressing and rubbing your thighs together for some relief,
“ Badhi paak-daman banti hai tu, jaise tujhe meri koi zaroorat hi na ho, jaise tera mujh se koi lena dena hi nahi. Sab ke samne tu aise mukar gayi jaise tera mujh se koi chakkar hi na ho, jaise tu un andheri galiyon mein mujh se chimat kar munh kala nahi karwa rahi thi” you saw the anger blazing in his eyes along side with his need, that line has caught you in so much trouble and by the looks of it he was beyond saving , you did not know what he was going to do to you only adding in more to the tremble of your body, fear paralysing you to the extent you did not resist his hand tracing down your stomach, snaking into the waistband of your light sharara but your breaths spoke for you, broken into a thousand pieces shaking with an emotion you couldn't get your heart to explain yourself, you hadn't expected this to happen not ever.
His tanned hand rested at your bare skin of the mon pubis,brushing against the soft curl before dragging in between your slick fold, your wetness catching at his fingers, “ Yaha bhi sharafat bachi hai ya fir uski bhi kasar nahi chori apne haatho se?” You flushed red, you knew he didn't have a way with words ever and that every word out of his mouth spoke for what filth he was raised in but you this..this was something else, asking if you had fingered yourself like this, “Dimaag kharaab hai kya aapka?” You shrieked, “ Ek toh aise janwaroon ki tarah kar rahe ho, mere abbu ko dhamki deke shaadi kar li” He didn't reply to your counter at all ignoring you were saying as if you were a child throwing tantrum, pulling your sharara down
“ Hum normally baat bhi kar sakte the, infact aap mujhe pyaar se bolti toh mai jaati bhi nahi abbu se baat kar leti, aapke baare mei bata deti aur unhe humaare saath hone se koi aitraaz bhi nahi hota”
His movements didn't falter for a moment pulling down your panties that got him a few kicks to the face but he just pecked them as well, you gulped down hard before continuing as ignoring that you were bare to him now would change his mind, your heat exposed to the air of the room and his ravenous eyes
“ Par aapne ka toh har cheez ka tamasha bana diya, college ke saamne mujhe aise uthe liye aur fir mere abbu aur mujhe pe itne zulm kiya-”
the cold silver of his taweez grazed your clit before his mouth did as he leaned in leisurely getting ready for the meal of his life, you jolted at the touch scooting your hips back, “ Aur yeh kya kar rahe hoon, choriye mujhe” he slammed your hips down into the mattress diving face in, his tongue licked a broad stripe over the whole of you, his chest rumbled with a dark satisfaction at finally having the taste of you and for the loud moan that teared from your throat echoing in the room. His beard scraped at the inside of your thighs, how could you ever fight this feeling?
He thrusted his tongue inside not giving time to your untrained hole to ease around him and instantly started eating your out, his tongue slurping at your insides in wild strokes his moustache tikcling the senstive pearl that hide atop your folds, your legs tend to close which he didn't appreciate, digging his finger into your fleshy thighs and keeping them spread open for his eating, he pulled out after some only to catch onto your clit instead, suctioning the bundle of thousand nerves into his mouth, invientably your hips bucked admitting your silent defeat.
Uzair poked his middle finger at closed off entrance, it slid in with due to the assistantce of your drenched self, once he felt your cunt clamp down on his finger instead of rejecting the feeling, he decided you were ready to take more and thrust back in two thick digits into you, you couldn't move under his grip neither could you bring yourself to open your eyes and look down to see the view between his legs, oh his prepossessing face buried in something so dirty with so much pleasure.
“ Ah..Uzair h ..hngh”
The voice was so sweet Uzair almost wanted to fuck you then and there, he couldn't do that now but he started preparing you for it streching your insides proffieciently with the help of his finger while his mouth flicked the bud in his mouth or sucked the soul out of you with low hums that were bringing you closer and closer to your release. It hurted slightly from the reckless way he moving his finger but then he would curl them just right sending shocks through your body, you were going to break so shamelessly and you knew it.
You gushed down his face screaming his name, your finger tangling in hair to lodge him out from in between your thighs but he was still hungry, lapping at your release like it was his first meal in days, savouring it with loud lewd embarrassing swish to his tongue which didn't seem to phase him at all he didn't stop until he had sucked you dry, till you were nothing but a crying mess.
Uzair chest heaved with unspent arousal as he pulled back, the line around his mouth glistening with your fluids, he sucked at your waist once hard enough to leave a hickey before finally gathering himself to sit back on his knees, pulling the pathani suit off of his body. You watched him through your blur vision, watching the body carved through harshness before you, his chest wide and covered in coarde thick hair muscles that defined the whole of his arm and broad shoulder, just as his chest a thick happy trail that ran down his stomach, he noticed the way you were watching him with those half lidded eyes of course he did , and for once he didn't mock it bringing your shaky hand right where his heart rested letting you feel his the neediness that showed through in each pulse.
“ Sab tera hi hai meri jaan, shauk se dekho”
You shook your head muttering something about him to let you go, that this isn't right, your words slurred from the soaring high you were put through seconds ago.
Your body locked in place when his bulbous head tapped at your entrance, the pressure of it just touching your entrance told you this was impossible to accomdate and you have heard from your married cousins how much it hurts, how it's no good.
“ Kya hua itna sehm kyu gayi? ”
He patted your cheek watching your eyes go wide with panic, Uzair put the frustation aside, the anger the surge of possesiveness aside and just watched you, his hard length twitched like it had a mind of it own, the sheer size of it made you want to cry and he was so upset wasn't he? He was going to ruin you
“Idhar dekh” He patted your cheek soft till your eyes finally focused back on his face,
“ Kuch nahi hoga, bilkul dard nahi hoga”
you whispered not making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion, before pressing the tip in further, “ Uzair!” your fingers tried to find comfort with the sheets, he pried your clenched fist open gently interlacing your fingers with his, giving your hand a small praising squeeze. “ Shh”
“ Aaram se jaanu” he huffed roughly when your muscles tensed refusing to let him in, he let go of one hand to massage the muscle around your thighs, rubbing the clit in gentle circles that made you drip out more of your wetness onto the mattress and his hard cock, he resisted the urge to slam in waiting till your walls adjusted to the head and then inch by inch he slowly descended inside you. There was no hymen tearing, no blood, no pain other than a dull drab. Tears glistened in your eyes that he didn't allow to grace your cheeks licking,kissing them away, “ Theek hai?” You nodded, it didn't hurt not like the heartbreaking descriptions your sisters told you in fact it burned in your core with an overwhelming fullness that you felt till your throat, maybe their husbands just did not how to do it OH FUCK he was your husband. Husband wouldn't be the right word to call it more like your captor- he buried himself to the hilt in a smooth one thrust blurring all the thoughts in your head.
He pinched your clit gently, wracking your already very sensitive nerves, Uzair whole body shook from feeling your walls wrap around him like a vice, the bare heat was driving him crazy “ Ya allah, meri noor meri jaan” He started a rhythm that was exactly opposite of what you would expected from him right now, it was agonisingly slow making sure you felt each touted up veins of his length scraping into places you didn't know existed till now. This was more cruel, because you couldn't even pretend to put up a fight right now, it was like he coaxed you all the way into paradise and pulled back right before you could feel it, you needed it harder, faster.
You nudged him closer, rolling your hips up in what felt a lot like defeat, he did not need words with you. He grabbed your ankles pulling them over his shoulder in one rough tug followed by a grunt that was not from the effort of shifting your position but for what he was going to do with you, burying himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open in a quiet scream, oh how you fucking regretted it.
“ Meri hai tu” He pulled back before surging back deeper , crushing your cervix“ Sirf meri” thrust “ Teri har saans, har labz pe mera haq hai” thrust “ Aur agar agli baar mujhe chor ne koshish kari toh tera voh hashr karunga ki yaad rakhegi” thrust “ Tere wajood par sirf meri saanson ka haq hai, meri qaid hi meri mohabbat hai” He groaned out the words frantic and choked out in between his moans, your cunt clenched around him pitifully despite how scared you were and how much you hated how his words deduced you to his mere property but there was a thrill being owned like this that betrayed the logic of your mind with your body convulsing in need and for him.
He measured the very inside of your body with his ramming into you with heavy thrusts that made a loud thwacking sound with how your bodies slapped together, his hefty balls thumping at your taint. You weren't moaning sweetly anymore, you were mewling like a kitten, your toes curling with how violently he hit your sweet spot. The feeling tangled into a knot in your stomach, the shape of his dick showed through the belly bulge that he further pressed on his hand possessively watching how deeply he had claimed you. He lugged you sliding your legs down from his shoulders to his waist so it eased some of the cramps of your thighs, positioned you to wrap your legs around it,
“ Pakad ”he hissed in frustration when you didn't comply he retorted to shoving in with a force that had you instinctively clinging to him, legs enclosing at his waist tightly, hands going to his shoulder to purchase. He started snapping his hips the position had sheathed his cock in deeper reducing his movement to a slight pull back and a vehement push back in. You tried to find some ‘freedom’ moving your hips back “Hilne ki himmat bhi mat karna, jaisa kaha hai waisa hi kar” In reply instead of defiance all the came out was a maim. Wiry hair brushed up at your clit in cue with his fucking the friction delicious along with the stretch inside you making you more and more pliant, your nails dragging down the large muscular scape of his back leaving behind claw marks of you pulling him deeper and away all at the same time.
Uzair’s breath quickened, his rhythm seemed to falter for a second before renewing back with more vigour the final blow being how he growled your name looking you right in the eyes with the desperation that he will go into rues if he didn't have you. Your whole being convulsed, gummy walls squeezing him in as you finally let go of the knot in your stomach with a raw hoydenish voice you did not even know you had in yourself.
That howling turned into whimpers of his name as he still continued the brutality on your now puffed up pussy before he finally came to an end, forcing his hips down completely with yours like there was any space left and released spurts after spurts of his release, “ Meri jaan”
You sniffled crying into the pillow, “ Are? Ro kyu rahi hai?” He forced himself out of the half lidded haze to pull out slow from yours wall that still held on to him, “ Theek toh hai na?” What were you supposed to say? You were fine physically, quite frankly you were in a state of bliss but your mind felt so jumbled but you nodded regardless. He cupped your face so gently nuzzling your nose with his till he felt the heave of your chest drop into regular breathing , “ Kitni pyaari lag rahi hai” he muttered lovingly, tutting when he find his seeds spilling down your slit and makes it his responsibility to make sure all of it stays in. Scooping it up and pushing it back inside your swollen hole, you twitched whining.
You were too tired to say anything as he washed you in the tub with the expensive body bath that definitely did not belong to him ( its Ulfat’s lol) , clipped your nails so carefully handling the small device in his hand fondling your palm his, brushed your long hair and braided them loosely whispering about how precious you are.
✧ ────── ✧ ────── ✧
You woke up, body still warmed up from his embrace your backside wet with white sticky fluids that he spilled on you while you were asleep, he grinned watching you stir and before you could fuss about the situation at your back “ Sorry na jaanu” he wipes it off clean with a damp cloth,
“ Ki tujhe le aaya hoon, thodi der se gussa karenge fir maan hi jayege”
“Bas?”
“ Haan toh voh khud bhabhi ko aise hi leke aagye the mujhe kya bolege”
Your nose flared in anger, watching the set up suit and bangles at the bed for you to wear and act like this was normal, “ Pagal ho gaye ho aap” You muttered harshly, his smile dropped eyes darkening “ Majaak bana rakha hai mera!” You hustled away the set from your feet, his hand moved swiftly grabbing your jaw firmly
“ Chup chaap se taiyar ho jaa, dimaag mat kharab kar mera” You shrugged him off with equal foulness, “ Accha theek hai sorry.. Chahe mujhse jitna bhi gussa hai neeche toh jaana hi hoga na fir bhi kapde toh phen le” He eyed the exposed part of your body , before his gaze settled back at your face “ Bol toh kuch”
You ignored him, the guilt of all that you enjoyed last was a heavy feeling that weighed down your shoulders but made you hold onto some pride, finding the only last piece of left defiance in you was to be quiet,not give him the privilege of your words, your anger because you knew with how depraved he had become he would have realised anything you gave him at this point, anger, hatred,love anything but indifference or profound sadness.
You could hear their muffled arguments from downstairs as you dressed yourself in the clothes he had laid out, a peach pink suit of the colour of your lips, the bangles chimed in melody in contrast to the rough exchange of words that happened beneath the floor under your foot. You watched yourself in the mirror straightening out the suit that was threaded with thin embroidery of a metallic gold, the lines so thin it barely showed the lotus woven into it unless it caught light from outside, you draped the dupatta over your neck covering the marks he left behind so passionately. The door clicked open and he let himself in while you were in the middle of adorning yourself with the kohl he had put down on the vanity
“Haaye” he whispered lovingly, exaggerating the sound by putting his hand on his heart as if wounded by your beauty, you held yourself back from rolling your eyes . Mashallah, jitni baar dekhoon tum aur haseen lagti ho” He closed off the distance in seconds, wrapping his arms tight around your waist, swaying you slowly. You didn't give your attention to him, eyes focused on yourself in the mirror, he tried wooing you by sweet talk and hums but your resolve remained all the same.
He pulled you up in the same way he had kidnapped you from the street, just by waist and pulled you into his lap, securely as he plopped down on the bed. Nibbling your lower lip, only then you noticed the red mark on his cheek not from your slap from last night, he clearly got slapped again downstairs. ‘Good he deserved it’ but some part of you did not like that somebody put their hands on him and before you knew you had touched the mark, the thin pressed line of your lips shifted into a pout that he was more than willing to kiss away.
“Aaine mein bhi khud ko mat dekha kar, mujhe hasad hota hai. Tu sirf meri aankhon mein khud ko dekhegi”
Hasad- jealousy
What a crazy man.
✧ ────── ✧ ────── ✧
Faisal was as delighted to have you. When he saw you downstairs he clinged at your legs boasting about how he has a chachi now, even on the breakfast table nobody commented on it. They just welcomed you with warmth and heartiness with Ulfat and Rehman giving you both blessings and talking about arranging a proper nikaah and walima for you both, Uzair one hand remained permanently glued to your shoulder keeping you pulled into his side , and everyone was laughing ? what a family of lunatics.
Three days passed in silence while Uzair tried to keep you like a child, buying you expensive stuff moving all of your childhood bedroom into his room, whether it was watching you sit for hours or praising your beauty. He did it all with devotion, ending up tired and sleeping with his head on your lap.
He never missed the chance to kiss your forehead, Ulfat took off your nazar everyday and you felt like you were truly going mad because no matter how hard you tried to stay upset your legs would go weak at the sight of him, the oppressiveness so dear.
They had arranged your second marriage and you weren't having it obviously, the fifth day you hugged Uzair from behind a calculated move, sniffling into the fabric of his pathani suit, “ Kya hua jaanu?” “ Ghar ki yaad aa rahi hai, abbu ke paas jaana hai” “ Mai leke chalunga na bas aaj nahi.. Aaj kaam hai na mujhe” You had known he would be busy heard it over when he was talking to Hamza on the phone and the brief eavesdropping you did on him and Rehman, and exactly why you had chosen this day, “ Mujhe aaj hi jaana hai” You fisted your hands crying loudly. You could see the stress take over his whole body, he gently tucked you into his chest, “ Bas bas..” he wiped the tears he couldn't handle seeing on your face, “ Phone rakh le abhi call pe baat kar liyo, kal leke chalunga pakka” You shook your head playing upset even though it was exactly what you wanted. “ Please jaanu kal pakka le chaluga”
The second he left you alone with the phone, alone in the house you were dialling your friends phone planning your escape, deciding on the road end for your friend’s car to pick you up.
✧ ────── ✧ ────── ✧
The bustling roads were a chaotic mix of shoppers, honking motorbikes, and auto-rickshaws weaving past open-front fabric boutiques, shimmering jewelry stalls, and wooden street carts. The air thick with the rich aromas of frying samosas, spiced chai, and jasmine incense, while the continuous sound of street vendors loudly calling out prices blends with the lively hum of customers bargaining for the best deal while you treaded forward in the heat in the same clothes you were lazing in the house in, the print was fading , the neckline had lowered from the hundred times you had put it on before going to sleep and even when you steps were shot and quick there was a small part of you that did want Uzair to appear to pick you off the ground again, what a vile disgusting thought but it brewed, and burrowed deep in your chest. His warning echoing in your mind and burning between your legs “Meri baat kaan khol kar sun le, baahar ek qadam bhi mat nikaalna varna issi kamre mei band kardunga tujhe”
You reached the end of the street and saw the white car parked in your peripheral vision, the face of your friend visible from the driver seat, she wasnt beckoning you in but sitting like a statue but you couldnt spend your time comprehding the look right now and lose the only chance at your freedom and rushed forward, holding the handle in your hand.
A tall shadow loomed over you engulfing you whole, you didn't need to turn around the intensity at which your hand was yanked back told you who it was
Uzair threw you into the room uncaring of where you landed, you yelped out loud falling back on the marble with a dull thud your hair ruffled from the struggle and fight you had put up, he snapped your phone in two watching you with cold eyes
“Main ne tujhe tameez se rehne ko kaha tha, lekin tu masoomiyat ka libada odhe aik makkar loomri ki tarah bartao karti hai, ab yahin sar”
he snarled smashing the already broken phone into the floor, moving close leaning into where he had put you. His closeness seemed to suck the very oxygen out of the air, your lungs burning for air, you regretted every second you had spent admiring him, all the eight months you had spent making him follow you around like an abandoned puppy for your scraps of attention because he clearly wasn't the same man anymore. Your lips quivered, eyes flooding with tears, “ Kya dikhana chati hai sabko?” he glared at the falling neckline with pure unadulterated rage and disgust at how it showed the mole at the start of your breast a sight that was supposed to be reserved for him.
“Tum ne nahi dekha ke kis tarah har mard bhooki nazron se tujhe sarak par chalte hue dekh raha tha, main ne dekha, main ne unhein us par nazrein jamate hue dekha jo mera hai, jaise woh meri jaan, meri mohabbat ko haath laga sakte hon” his hand grabbed at the nape your neck, coercing your face closer with his
“Yeh manzar sirf mere liye makhsoos hai” he grumbled his finger pressing into the mole with an intensity that bordered on violent. “ Sorry Uzair agli baar nahi hoga pakka” You pleaded, batting your lashes at him that were very heavy with teardrops, staring up at him with doe eyes.
“ Yeh masoom chehra banane se woh nahi badlega jo tune abhi kiya hai, tujhe maine phele hi bol diya ki mujhe yeh tere bhaagne se saqt nafrat kyunki voh bhi ek jooth hai teri har baat ki tarah” You knew it was the half truth, a part of you craved the fear thrill of being chased by him but the other part of you was equally thrown off by what was your life had become.
“ Uzair sach mei khuda khasam agli baar se nahi hoga” he catched you by your wrist and pulled you onto the bed and over his shoulder, you screamed as his hand hit at the delicate flesh of your backside , the pain making your jolt forward.
“ Chup reh”
He was pouring his bottled up pain and anger into your skin his hand coming down fast on both your cheek in harsh repeated motions with a precision that was made to sting, you s cried out kicking your legs only to feel his hand get tougher irritated by how there remained some fight in your heart.
You screeched his name the small cries and whimper turning into loud heart breaking sobs as you couldn't understand what do with yourself, that even the unbearable pain had found its way between your legs, making your throb and drip out more of your honey into the chaste fabric of your panties, Uzair stopped at the sound of your cries his hands stopping abruptly, he palmed your ass once tugging it up watching the plump fat jiggle as it came back down, landing a last undemanding spank that wasnt supposed to hurt, and it didn't it just seeped into your skin sinking down into a heavy ache between your legs, how he couldn't punish you for a minute without feeling like he would break himself, and the musk smell of him, his tobacco, the gun barell dust all of it so uniquely.
He pulled down your plazo to expose your red bottom, the mark fresh and prickled when he soothed them with the very hands he caused them. You were facing him the other second still sobbing openly “ Ro mat.. Mujhse dekha nahi jaata” His hand dipped down your spine to the small of your back, holding you closer. “Aise karte ho fir bolto ho ro mat ,kitne gande ho aap” You sniffled , your nose turning red from how much your rubbed it clean from the back of your hand.
“Mera dil dukhta hai yeh soch kar ke tum mujhe chhodna chahti ho, main tum se itni mohabbat karta hoon ke mujhe samajh nahi aata tum mujh se alag kyun hona chahti ho. Main jaanta hoon main sakht bolta hoon, aur tumhare jitna khoobsurat bhi nahi hoon, lekin main tum se pyar karta hoon, kisi bhi cheez se badh kar pyar karta hoon. Tumhare chhod jaane ka khayal bhi meri saansein rok deta hai, main khud par qaabu nahi rakh paata meri jaan” his hand slipped back lower to check for marks and swelling but find your wetness instead , “ Aap mohabbat nahi karte, yeh pagalpan hai. Khuda ke liye mujhe jaane do, mujhe aap se darr lagta hai”
His strong hands grip your waist, effortlessly lifting your trembling frame like a delicate doll. "tum fir se jooth bol rahi ho” he murmurs, his brown eyes gleaming with dark intent as he unties the knot of his salwar, The thick fabric loosens and pools onto the marble floor, revealing the imposing heat beneath."Tujhe mujhse darr nahi lagta, tu is baat se darti hai ke tu mujhe chahti hai” his hard length pokes at your trembling entrance, you clutch at his shoulder refusing to be lowered.
His heavy hands grip your hips, holding you suspended above his aching heat. He watches the violent shiver wrack your frame as his blunt tip presses against your slick entrance. A dark smirk curves his lips. “ "Tu jitna khud ko rokegi, utna hi mere qareeb aayegi” You bit your lips watching him as he slowly pushed forward to stretch you wide. The obscene sight of your pink inner wall expanded to fit around him, then slowly you nodded ,he thrusts upward sharply, forcing himself deeper into your slick heat while drawing a helpless gasp from your lips.
His chest rumbles with a frenzied grunt as your tight walls spasm frantically around his thick length he murmurs, “ Meri bhi apni jindagi hai..mai aise nahi reh sakti” You choked out on your words as he grinds deeper into your honeyed heat, savoring the helpless shudder that ran down your thigh, “ Tujhe teri jindagi milegi meri jaan, bilkul milegi mai har cheez mei tera saath dunga, lekin azaadi nahi milegi .. Mujhse nahi”
He started bouncing you, dismaying every thought that once was in your hand ending the argument before it could even begin pulling you up till he terrorised you with him leaving you empty, his girthy head almost out of your body breaking you into cries for him to not pull out only to be dropped back on. The sheerness of his length knocking the air out of your lungs each time, his tip hitting your cervix with devastating blunt force that made your eyes go back. All you saw was white, nothing more than a scattered breath made out of your mouth, “Uzair” he nodded crying your name feeling as helpless as you when it came to his feelings, he knew he was being cruel, bring down your life into the same mess he had been.
“Mai kahi nahi jaungi”
You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, steadying yourself and thrusted recklessly from below rutting into you at inhumane vehemence, with the urge to break you and he had finally got the first of your ruins, he was going to delve in it.
“ Aapk joh bologi voh karungi” you drew half moons into his back and the nape of his neck, your very own canvas. His eyes fixed at the bounce of the ample flesh of your chest, hypnotised by the movement when he held your own hand to your engorged clit to watch how true you will stay to your words, how far would you go to obey him “Khud se kar” . You eased the bud all the shame drained out of you after all that had happened and for the need to be validated to be his good little wife like he intended you to be, “ Aur zor se” You obliged to his command nothing but mud in his hands, pinching the sensitive flesh hard and in an immediate response your back arched off like a drawn bow, a shriek tearing out from your throat but you didn't stop,listening to every degrading lewd order he gave you.
You felt his length pulse in your cunt, your own velvety walls collapsing to hold him in deeper. You both came to your high at the same time, the wetness spilling to your hands, both of your clothes, not realising when your mouth had found each other, the passion burning into prurient whispers of each other's name with an exaltation that was unheard of
The room you were sitting in burned bright with yellow lights. You sat cross legged on a bed with your palms facing up, a soft smile adorning your face and you watched the two mehendi artists trace intricate patterns on her hand. The intense, earthy and herbal scent of henna mixing with the scent of roses wafting through the air from the rose garlands hanging on the wall. You had always dreamt of a moment like this but not in the circumstances which you were currently in now. You sighed in quiet defeat as you heard your ammi said
“Jitna gehra mehendi ka rang utna tumhara shouhar tumse pyaar karega”
All you could do was smile at them and just wonder if he really loved you or was it just obsession guised as love, but you also saw the softness he was watching you with right now from the side of your eyes , he wasn't performing for an audience ,no one was really looking at him including you ( according to him), he just liked watching you like a love sick fool, with his cheek rested into his palm with a boyish expression.
You leaned back against the headboard, your palms still facing upward waiting for your mehendi to dry, back cramping from sitting straight for so long, you watched with rapt attention how Uzair was pacing around the room talking to someone, it was mostly curses but you couldn’t help but listen to it all.
When the mehendi of your feet and hand dried, you were still worried if you would smudge some of it. Uzair did not needed to be told twice and picked you up carefully not to crease your anarkali suit or disturb the design of your body, “ Bas aap logo ne bahut baat karli ab mujhe meri biwi chaiye” “ UZAIR” You blushed hitting at his chest.
He carried you upstairs, laying
you so softly into the mattress you could feel the air kissing your skin“Uzair…aapse ek baat puchhni thi, abhi puchhu ya kaam me mashroof ho?” but the gentle breeze of a touch left you as soon as it came, he became occupied in his damn phone, the same phone that planted the seed of suspicion into your head and started all of this in the first place.
“Puchh lo meri jaan joh dil kare, tere liye toh mai sab kaam chhod du”
“Aise baate mat kara karo, Mujhe puchhna tha ki aap do phones kyu rakhte ho apne saath”
“Kyu tujhe kya? Meri marzi”
This blatant audacity provoked you,
“Me puchh nahi sakti?!” Your voice went a pitch higher.
“Mene aisa thoda kaha, bilkul puchh sakti ho par jawab dena hai ya nahi ye toh mera faisla hai na”
“Aap seedha seedha batate kyu nahi ? do phones rakhte ho?”
“Mere khudke kuch wajohat hai, mai tumhe kyu batau”
He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your outburst and he was, oh how adorable you looked when your face scrunched up
“Kyunki mai aapki biwi hu. Aap kisi aur ladki se baat kar rahe ho na? Laga hi tha mujhe, aapko toh sirf jhoot bolne aata hai haq jatana aata hai, mazak udaya, pyaar ka natak kiya tha na aapne?!”Tears came quick to your eyes, you wanted to slap him but the mehendi was too pretty to ruin and you weren't sure if it had dried fully , you just let out a defeated sob and leaned back further into the mattress
For the first time you saw panic in Uzair’s eye, the dread emanating off him in waves
“Nahi nahi please meri jaana rona mat!”
He tried to wipe your tears but you pulled back before he could lay his hands on you
“Me mazak kar raha tha, tere liya hi liya tha yeh dusra phone maine! Mere iphone se tere khatara bbm pe sms nahi kar sakta tha isliye ye vala liye, please jaana rona band karo, maaf kardo” from the day he had spent stalking you in the starting month, he observed the phone in your hand as you left college and bought the same of for himself before you two had even started speaking.
“Oh…..” was you all could say
“TOH YE PEHLE BATANE ME PAISE LAGTE HAI AAPKO?!”
“Main majak kar raha tha…”
“Bade mazakiya banne ki khwaish hai na appko jao aaj sofa pe so”
You can't believe all of this, all of this havoc for such a petty misunderstanding,
“ Are are itna gussa?” he crawled above your body watching you with that same ‘ i am not budging’ grin, “ Mera phone se takleef hai toh jab man kare check kar liye kar” he put down the phone by the side of your head, “ Kyunki jitna haq mera tujh par hai utna hi haq tera mujh par hai”
And the next time you said ‘qubool hai’ ( actually the first time) was in front of the veiled stringed of jasmine and roses, and a thin netted curtain, where on the other side sat Uzair, you were still very much his kidnapped bride but this time in the dress you had chosen, watching the deep red pool like blood at the floor as you finally accepted your reality, the reality that the rest of your life would be spent in his arms
a/n- cant stress on how much my home girl saved my ahh hehe, hope yall would like it!!
