The brilliant morning sun cut sharply through the heavy velvet curtains of Alisha’s bedroom, signaling the start of a brand-new day.Alisha stood in front of her full-length mirror, smoothing down a vibrant turquoise kurti paired with a crisp white salwar. She brushed her dark brown hair until it fell in glossy waves over her shoulders, then clipped her favorite silver jhumkas onto her earlobes. They let out a sharp, rhythmic tinkle with every movement of her head.
An hour earlier, she had marched down to the courtyard where her mother was overseeing the domestic staff. Catching Ulfat near the veranda, Alisha had tilted her chin up in that characteristically arrogant Baloch line, crossing her arms tightly.
“Ammi, Uzair Chacha ko kahein ke aaj bhee mujhe drop kar dein,” she had commanded, her voice dripping with calculated, haughty disdain. “Hamza kal bimaar thay, aur mujhe bilkul shoq nahi hai ke raste mein unhein koi chakkar aaye aur meri gadi ka accident ho jaye. Unhein kahein ke aaj bhee apne flat par pade rahein aur poori tarah thik ho kar aayein. Mujhe apni jaan bohot pyari hai.”
Ulfat had merely sighed, shaking her head at her daughter’s seemingly selfish entitlement. “Tauba hai, Alisha. Tumhare nakhre toh din-ba-din badhte hi ja rahe hain. Bechaara Hamza hamesha tumhari sunta hai. Theek hai, main Rehman se keh doongi ke woh usey aaj bhee chutti de dein.”
With Hamza safely contained in his apartment for another twenty-four hours, Alisha had executed the second phase of her plan. She had summoned Sakina Bibi,the oldest and most trusted cook in the Baloch kitchen,directly to her bedroom door.
“Sakina Bibi, mujhe bohot der ho rahi hai class ke liye,” Alisha had lied seamlessly, her tone sharp and bossy. “Mera naashta mere kamre mein hi bhej do. Parathas, thoda sa achaar, aur woh makhni omelette jo Abbu ko pasand hai. Jaldi kijiye!”
The moment Sakina Bibi had delivered the tray and left, Alisha had abandoned her textbooks. Remembering the watery, slightly charred disaster of yesterday’s lentil soup, she had shuddered. She knew her cooking was absolutely terrible, and she had no intention of exposing Hamza’s recovering stomach to her culinary experiments two days in a row. She had deftly packed the hot, buttery parathas and the fluffy omelette into a neat tiffin box, stuffed it into her college bag, and slipped into the passenger seat of Uzair’s SUV, who had dropped her off at her college.
Now, the yellow rickshaw rattled violently as it pulled up to the familiar, weathered concrete building near the Lyari fisheries. Alisha paid the driver with a sharp command to move quickly, grabbed her bag, and practically flew up the concrete stairs to the third floor. Her transparent heels clicked a frantic, triumphant rhythm against the stone until she stood before the dented iron door of Hamza's flat.
She didn't hesitate. She raised her knuckles and knocked, three steady, rhythmic beats.
The lock turned almost instantly, and the heavy door swung inward.
Hamza stood in the threshold, and the transformation from the previous night was striking. The heavy, suffocating haze of the virus had mostly receded, leaving his rugged features sharp and alert once more. He was dressed in a simple, charcoal-grey kurta, his long hair tied back securely. The absolute weakness of his emotional breakdown from a few hours ago had been tucked away behind his usual armor, but the moment his dark eyes landed on her turquoise suit, a profound, unyielding warmth flared in his gaze.
The lazy, insufferable smirk crawled right back onto his lips.
"Phirse college bunk kar rahi hai, Shehzadi?" his deep baritone was a low, velvety hum that seemed to coat the close air of the narrow corridor. He stepped aside, allowing her to march past him into the small flat. "Agar Rehman Bhai ko pata chala ke unki beti Baloch havelli se zyada Lyari ke is chote se kamre mein rehti hai, toh woh mujhe sach mein is ilaaqay ke chauki pe ulta latkake pel denge."
Alisha dropped her heavy college bag onto his wooden desk with a loud thud, turning around to face him with her hands on her hips. "Aap chup rahiye, Hamza! Main yahan aapke mazaak sunne nahi aayi hoon. Maine Ammi se jhoot bola ke mujhe aapki driving par bharosa nahi hai taaki aapko ek aur chutti mil sake, aur aap yahan khade hokar mujhe hi taane maar rahe hain?"
Hamza closed the heavy iron door, turning the deadbolt with a soft click. He walked over to her, his massive frame completely blocking out the morning light slanting through the dusty window. He reached out, his large, calloused hand gently wrapping around her waist, pulling her half a step closer. The lingering scent of his sandalwood cologne enveloped her instantly.
"Achha? Toh aapne mere liye phir se jhoot bola?" he teased, his dark eyes looking down into hers with a brilliant, playful spark. "Mujhe laga tha Shehzadi ko sirf hukm chalana aata hai."
"Maine isliye jhoot bola kyunki agar aap dobara bimaar pad gaye, toh mera nakhre kaun uthayega?" she huffed, her cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink that beautifully contrasted with her turquoise outfit. She swiped his hand away from her waist, though her fingers lingered against his warm skin for a heartbeat.
She unzipped her bag and pulled out the stainless-steel tiffin box, setting it forcefully on the small bedside table. "Yeh lijiye. Naashta kijiye."
Hamza looked at the tiffin, then back at her, his smirk widening into a genuine, wicked grin. "Aapne... aapne phir se khana pakaya hai? Alisha, main abhi abhi bimaar utha hoon. Agar maine aapki pakayi hui daal dobara khaayi, toh shayad mujhe hospital jana pade."
"Yeh maine nahi banaya hai!" Alisha snapped, her short temper flaring perfectly to hide her embarrassment. "Mujhe pata hai ke meri cooking kaisi hai, aapko yaad dilane ki zaroorat nahi hai. Yeh Sakina Bibi ne banaya hai. Maine apne bedroom mein mangwaya aur chupke se pack kar ke le aayi. Chup-chap baithiye aur khaiye."
Hamza let out a low, rumbling huff of laughter that vibrated pleasantly through his chest. He sat on the edge of the narrow wooden mattress, pulling the tiffin box toward him and opening the lid. The rich, mouth-watering aroma of pure ghee, hot parathas, and spiced omelette instantly filled the small apartment, completely banishing the stale smell of medicine.
He broke off a piece of the warm bread, wrapping it around a generous portion of the egg, but before he put it in his own mouth, he held it out toward her lips.
"Pehle aap," he murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, private register that belonged only to her in the safety of that room. "Mujhe pata hai aapne bhee naashta nahi kiya hoga. Aur...itni subah jhoot bolne mein bohot taqat lagti hai."
Alisha looked at his hand, then at the piece of paratha. Her stomach let out a timely, traitorous rumble. Her feisty exterior cracked, and she sat down right beside him on the edge of the mattress, her silver jhumkas tinkling softly as she leaned forward and took the bite directly from his fingers. The rich, savory flavor was incredibly comforting, but it was the steady, grounded touch of his thumb grazing her lower lip to catch a stray crumb that truly filled her.
"Meetha hai," she whispered, mimicking his words from the previous night, a playful, secret smile finally breaking through her bossy mask.
"Yeh paratha hai, Alisha, meetha kaise ho sakta hai?" Hamza shot back, his eyes dancing with mischief as he took his own bite.
"Aapke haath se kha rahi hoon na," she murmured, her voice dropping to a rare, exceptionally soft whisper as she reached into the tiffin to break off the next piece for him.
The savory warmth of Sakina Bibi’s makhni omelette was the only comfort in the stark room, but the peaceful silence didn't last long. Hamza chewed his second bite slowly, his dark eyes narrowing as he watched Alisha tear off a microscopic piece of paratha, barely large enough to feed a bird.
He set the tiffin lid down on the mattress with a deliberate, heavy thud. The sudden movement made Alisha’s silver jhumkas tinkle in surprise as she looked up, her fingers hovering mid-air.
"Bas?" Hamza’s deep baritone lost its playful, teasing hum, shifting into that stern, unyielding register he usually reserved for unruly guards in the Chakiwara markets. "Aapne subah se sirf do nivaale liye hain, Alisha. Aur ab aap aise acting kar rahi hain jaise aapka pet bhar gaya ho."
Alisha’s temper, always coiled like a spring, flared instantly. She dropped the piece of bread back into the stainless-steel box and crossed her arms over her turquoise kurti. "Mera pet bhar gaya hai, Hamza! Mujhe subah-subah zyada khane ki aadat nahi hai. Aur aap apna dhyan rakhiye, aap bimaar hain, main nahi."
"Aap bimaar nahi hain, magar aap pagal zaroor hain," Hamza chided, his scowl deepening as he reached out, his large, warm hand firmly grabbing her wrist. He didn't hurt her, but his grip was solid, rooted in an absolute refusal to let her boss him around on this. "Kal aapne din bhar sirf wo thodi si paani jaisa daal chakhi thi. Raat ko aap mere chinta se bethi rahin, aur aaj subah bager kuch khaaye poora Lyari cross kar ke yahan aa gayin. Aapko kya lagta hai, yeh jo aap roz college bunk kar ke mere flat ke chakkar kaat rahi hain, iske liye taqat kahan se aayegi?"
"Hamza! Aap mujh par chillayein mat!" she hissed, her eyes flashing with a brilliant, dangerous fire as she tried to pull her wrist back. "Main Baloch khanwada ki Shehzadi hoon. Mujhse is tarah baat karne ki jurrat kisi ki nahi hai!"
"Baki ke Lyari ke liye aap Shehzadi hongi," Hamza countered, his voice dropping into a low, fiercely protective whisper that completely silenced her. He leaned in closer, his massive shoulders blocking out the slanting morning sun, his gaze locked onto her flushed face. "Is kamre mein, aap sirf meri Alisha hain. Aur agar meri Alisha khud ko kamzor karegi, toh main Rehman Bhai se pehle khud par gussa hoonga. Khaiye isse."
He broke off a generous, thick piece of the paratha, loaded it with a heavy scoop of the egg, and held it directly to her lips. His thumb brushed against the edge of her chin, steadying her jaw with an intimacy that turned her fiery anger into liquid warmth within a split second.
Alisha glared at him, her lower lip trembling with a mix of stubborn pride and the sheer, overwhelming devotion she felt whenever he took charge like this. She hated being told what to do by anyone,except him. Because when Hamza scolded her, it wasn't to correct her or make her fit into a mold; it was because her survival mattered more to him than his own.
"Aap bohot badtameez hain," she muttered under her breath, but she opened her mouth and took the bite from his fingers.
The rich, buttery flavor filled her mouth, and she hated to admit, even to herself, that she had been absolutely starving. She chewed in a sullen, dramatic silence, her chin still tilted up defiantly.
The lazy, insufferable smirk slowly crawled back onto Hamza’s face as he watched her swallow. "Mera accha baccha," he teased, his thumb gently catching a stray drop of ghee from the corner of her mouth. "Nakhre uthana mera kaam hai, Shehzadi. Magar un nakhron ke peeche agar aapne apni sehat kharab ki, toh agli baar main aapko is flat ke andar kadam bhee nahi rakhne doonga."
"Aap mujhe nahi rok sakte," she huffed, her voice softening as she reached into the tiffin herself, breaking off a piece to feed him in return. "Main kitni ziddi hoon, yaad hai na?"
"Yaad hai," Hamza murmured, his dark eyes softening into that raw, private tenderness that belonged only to her. He took the food from her hand, his lips brushing her fingertips. "Isliye toh is zidd ko sambhalne ke liye mujhe har waqt hosh mein rehna padta hai."
They finished the breakfast together, the tiffin box scraped clean between them. The tension of his scolding dissolved into a sweet, heavy quiet, the ceiling fan groaning overhead.
________________________________________________________________
The heavy silence that followed their shared breakfast was peaceful, the old ceiling fan overhead groaning in its rhythmic, slow rotation. Alisha smiled secretly, tracing the edge of the now-empty stainless-steel tiffin box, while Hamza watched her with a softness he rarely permitted himself outside the walls of this cramped Lyari apartment.
The violent, heavy pounding against the dented iron door shattered the quiet like a gunshot.
Alisha froze, her silver jhumkas letting out a frantic, panicked jangle. Hamza’s entire posture transformed in a fraction of a second. The soft, relaxed look in his eyes vanished, replaced by the razor-sharp alertness of a man who lived his life on the edge of danger. He vaulted off the narrow wooden mattress, his large hand instantly locking onto Alisha’s forearm.
"Aap jaldi andar jaiye! Bathroom mein chupiay, jaldi!" Hamza hissed in a fierce, urgent whisper, pointing toward the small, weathered plastic door at the back of the room.
Alisha’s eyes widened in sheer panic, her haughty defiance temporarily evaporating. "Magar Hamza, kaun ho sakta hai? Agar Abbu ke aadmi—"
"Aap bahas mat kijiye, Alisha! Jo bhi hai, aapko yahan nahi dikhna chahiye. Jaldi andar jaiye aur darwaza band kijiye!" Hamza commanded, his voice tight with anxiety. He practically shoved her toward the bathroom.
Scrambling in her transparent heels, Alisha slipped inside the tiny, damp bathroom and pulled the door shut just as another loud, impatient knock rattled the iron frame outside. Hamza took a deep, centering breath, smoothed down his charcoal-grey kurta, and walked over to the door. He turned the heavy deadbolt and swung it open.
Standing on the threshold, with a leather jacket slung over one shoulder and a broad, carefree grin on his face, was Uzair.
"Abey diwar todega kya, saale?" Hamza growled, his deep baritone dripping with feigned annoyance as he looked at the man standing outside.
"Abey ! Tu zinda hai ya chal basa?" Uzair boomed, stepping right into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. He threw his arm around Hamza’s shoulders, giving him a heavy, affectionate thud on the back. "Subah jab bhabhi ne kaha ke tu aaj bhi chutti pe hai, toh mujhe laga ke tera nikaah maut se hone wala hai. Isliye socha apne bhai ka chehra dekh loon!"
Hamza let out a strained, nervous cough, his eyes darting subtly toward the bathroom door before forcing a tight smile. "Tu... tu yahan kya kar raha hai, Uzair? Tujhe toh havelli pe hona chahiye tha na?"
"Abey, main abhi toh Alisha ko college chhod kar aa raha hoon. Socha raste mein tera flat padta hai, toh dekhta chaloon ke tu tikh hai ya nahi," Uzair said, walking further into the small room. He pressed the back of his hand against Hamza’s forehead. "Waise, bukhar toh utar gaya hai tera. Lagta hai maut ne tera chehra dekh kar apna iraada badal liya."
"Haan, main bilkul theek hoon. Tu bas hamesha zyada tension leta hai," Hamza muttered, trying to physically steer Uzair back toward the entrance. "Tu ja ab, Rehman Bhai ko teri zaroorat hogi."
"Arre ruk toh sahi, itni kya jaldi hai? Apne bhai ko thoda paani toh pila," Uzair laughed, tossing his leather jacket onto the small wooden bed. He turned around to find a stool to sit on, but his eyes immediately locked onto the wooden desk.
Sitting right there, in plain, undeniable view, was a vibrant, heavily embroidered leather handbag with designer gold clasps—the exact, unmistakable college bag that Alisha Baloch had been carrying for the past three months.
Hamza’s stomach plummeted into a bottomless abyss. He had completely forgotten to hide the bag.
Uzair blinked, staring at the bag. He reached out, picking up the strap with two fingers, lifting it up into the air like a piece of foreign evidence. He turned around slowly, his eyebrows furrowing into a deep, suspicious knot as he looked at his best friend.
"Hamza..." Uzair started, his voice dropping into a slow, dangerously quiet tone. "Yeh kya hai?"
Hamza’s throat went completely dry. His mind raced through fifty different lies in a millisecond, but every single one of them sounded utterly ridiculous. He swallowed hard, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Woh... woh kya hai?"
"Abey, main pooch raha hoon yeh kya hai!" Uzair yelled, holding the bag higher. "Yeh ladkiyon ka bag tere desk pe kya kar raha hai? Aur yeh... yeh toh bohot mehnga wala lag raha hai. Tu... tu....... tere kamre mein yeh sab?"
"Woh... mera hai," Hamza blurted out, his voice cracking slightly on the last word.
Uzair stopped. He stared at Hamza. Then he looked down at the bag, which was covered in delicate metallic accents, and then looked back at Hamza’s massive, six-foot-two, heavily muscled frame in the charcoal kurta.
"Tera hai?" Uzair asked, his voice deadpan. "Abey saale, tu itna bada jawan mard hai, tu yeh chamkila pink-shading wala leather bag le kar ghumta hai?"
"Haan! Mera hi hai!" Hamza doubled down, panic making him stupid. He stepped forward and snatched the bag out of Uzair’s hand, clutching it tightly against his broad chest like a shield. "Woh... actually...mujhe bazaar se kuch saamaan lana tha, toh kapde ke thaili nahi thi, toh maine yeh… yeh khareed liya."
Uzair stared at him for three long, agonizing seconds. The silence in the room was deafening. Then, suddenly, Uzair’s face completely relaxed, and he let out a massive, roaring guffaw, slapping his thigh.
"Ahahaha! Abey yaar! Tu bhi na! Mujhe laga koi chakkar chal raha hai!" Uzair laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Tu bhi kitna bada kanjoos hai! Market mein saamaan lene ke liye ladkiyon ka bag utha laya? Sasta mila hoga na? Pheri wale se liya kya? Wah bhai wah, Hamza Ali Mazari, teri jodi is bag ke saath kamaal lag rahi hai!"
Hamza let out a weak, strained laugh, sweating profusely under his kurta. "Haan... haan, sasta tha. Toh maine socha... kya farq padta hai."
"Chal thik hai, tera sasta shauq tere paas rakh," Uzair chuckled, walking over to the bed and plucking a jalebi from the bag he brought. "Magar bhai, sach bata, bimaari mein kuch khaya peeya ke nahi? Teri shakal abhi bhee thodi utri hui lag rahi hai."
Meanwhile, inside the cramped, suffocatingly dark bathroom, Alisha was pressed flat against the wooden door, her ear glued to the cracked paneling. She was holding her breath so hard her lungs ached. Hearing Hamza claim that her expensive, imported designer bag belonged to him for going to the bazaar had almost made her burst out laughing, but the sheer terror of her uncle being less than ten feet away kept her mouth clamped shut.
The bathroom smelled faintly of damp stone and old soap. The only light came from a tiny, rusted iron ventilator high up on the wall, casting thin, dusty beams across the concrete floor.
Alisha shifted her weight slightly, her transparent heels clicking faintly against the stone. She quickly froze, cursing her shoe choice. She decided to lean against the side wall to take the pressure off her feet.
A tiny, scratching sound echoed from the wall right above her head.
Alisha stiffened. Slowly, horizontally, her eyes tracked upward.
There, clinging to the damp concrete wall directly under the flickering bulb, were two massive, leathery, aggressively territorial Lyari lizards. They were locked in what appeared to be a brutal, high-stakes combat, their tails thrashing against the wall. One of them let out a tiny, menacing hiss, snapping its jaws at the other.
Alisha’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes dilated with pure, unadulterated horror. She could handle heavily armed rival gangs, she could handle her father's terrifying anger, but she absolutely could not handle reptiles.
‘Nahi, nahi, nahi... please nahi,’ she prayed frantically in her head, pressing herself harder against the door, her hands trembling.
Outside in the room, Uzair was completely oblivious, sitting comfortably on the edge of the mattress, chewing on his jalebi. "Aur sun Hamza, woh Chakiwara wale market ka jo masla tha na, woh toh solve ho gaya. Magar kal jab tu bimaar tha, toh Havelli mein bada sannata tha. Rehman Bhai bhi yaad kar rahe thay tujhe…"
Inside the bathroom, the lizard war reached a catastrophic climax. The larger lizard lunged forward, biting the other one’s tail. Losing their grip on the slippery wall, both reptiles detached simultaneously, falling through the air in a terrifying, chaotic spiral—directly toward Alisha’s shoulder.
Alisha completely lost her mind.
A blood-curdling, glass-shattering shriek tore through the bathroom door.
Outside, Uzair jumped three feet into the air, dropping his jalebi straight onto the floor, his eyes widening in pure horror. "Abey! Yeh kya tha?! Tere ghar mein bhoot hai kya?!"
Before Hamza could even attempt to craft a lie, the bathroom door was violently kicked open from the inside.
Alisha bolted out like a rocket, her transparent heels clicking frantically against the floor. She didn't look at Uzair, she didn't look at the room—she saw only Hamza. She launched herself forward, jumping completely into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist, burying her face into his neck, screaming hysterically.
"HAMZA!!! WOH CHIPKALIYAN!!! WOH DEEWAR SE GEEER GAYI!!! MERI PEETH PAR HAI!!! NIKALEIN USSE!!! HAMZA MAIN MARR JAUNGI HAMZAAA PLEASE MAIN MARR GAYI!!!" she wailed, her silver jhumkas thrashing wildly as she shook with terror.
Hamza, entirely acting on pure protective instinct, caught her effortlessly, his massive arms wrapping securely around her waist to hold her up. "Alisha! Alisha, shaant ho jaiye! Kuch nahi hai, kuch nahi hai, main hoon yahan!" he yelled back, completely forgetting that his best friend was standing exactly two feet away.
Uzair stood frozen in place, his jaw literally dropping so low it could have touched the floor. His hands hung limply at his sides. His brain completely short-circuited. He looked at Hamza, then at the girl wrapped around Hamza's waist, then at the turquoise kurti, and finally at her face.
The small apartment fell into an agonizing, chaotic silence, punctuated only by Alisha’s heavy, panicked breathing against Hamza's neck.
Slowly, Alisha realized that the lizards weren't on her. She also realized that the room had gone completely quiet. She stiffened, slowly turning her head around, her dark brown waves falling over her shoulders, to look directly at Uzair.
Uzair blinked once. He blinked twice. He rubbed his eyes, squinting hard.
"Tum... tum na..." Uzair muttered, pointing a trembling finger at Alisha. "Tum meri bhanji Alisha Baloch jaisi dikhti ho..."
Alisha froze, her heart stopping.
Uzair took a half-step closer, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as realization finally hit his brain like a freight train. "Arre... tum toh Alisha hi ho!!"
"Uzair, meri baat sun—" Hamza started, his voice cracking as he quickly, gently set Alisha back down on her feet. Alisha immediately smoothed down her turquoise kurti, trying to regain her characteristically arrogant composure, though her face was completely flushed with embarrassment.
"KYA SUNU??? TUM ALISHA?" Uzair screamed, his voice hitting a pitch that nobody knew a grown man from Lyari could achieve. " TUM YAHAN???"
She smoothed down her kurti, tilted her chin up in that characteristic, haughty Baloch line despite her tear-stained face, crossed her arms tightly, and looked her uncle dead in the eye.
"Haan, main hoon! Toh? Itna chillane ki kya zaroorat hai, Uzair Chacha?" she snapped, her bossy exterior snapping right back into place.
"Abey! Abey tum... tum yahan kya kar rahi ho?!" Uzair yelled, turning to Hamza, then back to Alisha, his hands flailing in the air. "Tum toh college gayi thi na? Aur yeh... yeh tumhara hi bag hai na? Jo yeh keh raha tha ke iska hai? Oye Hamza! Saale khabees! Mujhse jhoot bola ke tu kapde lene gaya tha? Yeh meri bhanji ka bag hai!"
"Uzair, tu pehle thanda ho ja, meri baat sun—" Hamza tried to step in, raising his hands pacifyingly.
"Main kyun thanda hoon? Meri apni bhanji, Baloch khandan ki izzat, Lyari ke is chote se kamre mein ek mard ke saath bethi hai, aur tu mujhe keh raha hai thanda ho ja?!" Uzair was practically vibrating with a mix of shock, confusion, and betrayal. He looked at Alisha, his face a mask of disbelief. "Alisha! Tum mujhe batao, tum yahan kya kar rahi ho? Sach sach batao!"
Alisha rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out a sharp, sarcastic huff as her silver jhumkas tinkled. "Aapko kya dikh raha hai, Chacha? Main yahan Hamza ke ghar pocha lagane aayi hoon! Safai chal rahi hai yahan, dikh nahi raha aapko?"
Uzair’s brain completely melted. He turned to Hamza, his eyes wide. "Abey... abey Hamza, yeh ladki meri bhanji nahi ho sakti. Meri bhanji......p-p-pocha? Nahi nahi nahi yeh koi aur hai Isne Alisha ka roop dhaar liya hai!"
"Uzair, tu pagal ho gaya hai kya? Yeh Alisha hi hai!" Hamza hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose in sheer exhaustion.
"Achha? Agar yeh Alisha hi hai, toh phir tere ghar pe kya kar rahi hai? Subah ke das baje? College bunk kar ke? Mujhe jawab chahiye!" Uzair demanded, crossing his arms and slamming his foot down.
Alisha stepped forward, completely blocking Hamza, her voice dripping with calculated, haughty disdain. "Main yahan isliye aayi hoon kyunki Hamza bimaar thay! Kal raat inhein itna tez bukhar tha ke yeh chal bhee nahi paa rahe thay. Main inka khayal rakhne aayi thi, naashta lekar aayi thi!"
Uzair stared at her, then looked at Hamza, and then let out a loud, dramatic gasp. "Khayal rakhne aayi thi?! Kyun? Mera dost zinda hai, yeh tumse bardasht nahi ho raha?! Jannat ki ticket katwani hai kya iski?!"
"Aapka kya matlab hai?!" Alisha snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"Mera matlab hai ke tumhara pakaya hua khana khakar toh bacha-khucha insaan bhi mar jaye!" Uzair yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "Hamza, tu pagal hai kya?! Isne tujhe kuch khilaya toh nahi na? Tu theek toh hai?!"
"Nahi, nahi, isne khana nahi pakaya tha! Khana Sakina Bibi ne banaya tha!" Hamza cleared his throat quickly, his face red.
"Haan! Main Sakina Bibi se naashta chupake layi thi inke liye!" Alisha added defiantly, stepping right alongside Hamza.
Uzair looked between the two of them, his eyes tracking their close proximity, the defensive way Hamza stood in front of her, and the undeniable chemistry vibrating in the air.
"Rukho... rukho, rukho," Uzair whispered, his voice trembling as he looked at Hamza. "Tum dono... tum dono ke beech... yeh sab kya chal raha hai? Hamza? Tu aur Alisha?"
Hamza closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew there was no way out of this lie anymore. The truth was out in the open, raw and dangerous. "Uzair... dekh, main tujhe sab samjhata hoon. Par tu gussa mat ho."
"Main gussa na hoon?!" Uzair shrieked, his voice reaching a comedic pitch. "Mera sab se accha dost meri hi sagi bhanji ke saath chakkar chala raha hai, aur tu keh raha hai main gussa na hoon?! Abey saale, dhoka diya tu ne mujhe!"
"Maine koi dhoka nahi diya!" Alisha interrupted loudly, stepping in front of Hamza and looking Uzair dead in the eye. "Main Hamza se pyaar karti hoon! Aur yeh koi chakkar nahi hai!"
The word pyaar bounced off the walls, leaving a heavy, stunned silence in its wake. Hamza stared at the back of Alisha's head, his heart swelling but his mind screaming in absolute terror at her boldness.
Uzair placed both hands on his head, walking in a small circle around the tiny room, looking like a man whose entire world view had just been shattered. He stopped in front of Alisha.
He turned slowly, his eyes darting from Alisha to Hamza, and then back to Alisha. He looked like a man who had just been hit by a truck, survived, and then got hit by a second truck immediately after.
"T-Tum... tum kya... kya bola tumne?" Uzair stammered, his voice dropping an octave. "Mohabbat? Tum? Isse? Is khadoos, lambe, Lyari ke gundey se?"
"Haan! Main inhi se mohabbat karti hoon!" Alisha declared, her voice ringing with absolute defiance as she stepped closer to Hamza, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip his arm, claiming him right in front of the world. "Aur yeh bhee mujhse mohabbat karte hain!"
Uzair looked at Hamza, his expression a mix of betrayal and pure comedy. "Oye... oye Hamza. Yeh sach bol rahi hai? Tu... tu ne meri sagi bhanji pe dore dale? Saale, main tujhe apna bhai manta tha, aur tu ne mere hi ghar mein daka daal diya?"
"Uzair, meri baat sun, maine kuch nahi kiya—" Hamza tried to explain, his voice urgent.
"Haan, inhone kuch nahi kiya! Jo kiya maine kiya!" Alisha interrupted bossily, stamping her foot. "Aur Uzair Chacha, aap jo itna jhatka kha rahe hain, isme hairani ki kya baat hai? Hamza hamesha mera khayal rakhte hain, hamesha meri baaten sunte hain. Inke jaisa koi nahi hai!"
"Tum... tum janti ho iski umr?" Uzair asked, his voice shaking dramatically. "Alisha, yeh budha hone wala hai! Iske baal safed hone wale hain!"
"Abey, kaun budha ho raha hai? Main sirf -" Hamza protested loudly from behind, his pride wounded.
"Aap chup rahiye, Hamza!" Alisha scolded Hamza first, making him instantly shut his mouth, before turning back to Uzair. "Aur Chacha, mujhe pata hai inki umr kya hai. Aapke aas paas hi hai. Toh kya fark padta hai?"
"Abey! Farq kyun nahi padta?!" Uzair yelled, pointing a finger at Hamza, then at himself. "Yeh... yeh tera Chacha jaise hai! Main tera Chacha hoon, yeh mera dost hai, toh yeh bhee tera Chacha jaise hua na! Yeh tera Chacha hai!"
"Nahi hai!" Alisha snapped back instantly, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Yeh mere Chacha bilkul nahi hain! Aap mere Chacha hain, yeh... yeh mere sab kuch hain. Aur aap inhein Chacha bolna band kijiye, varna mujhe gussa aa jayega!"
"Ohoho! Gussa aa jayega Shehzadi ko!" Uzair mocked, turning to Hamza with an exasperated look. "Oye Hamza, dekh teri Shehzadi ko. Iska dimaag kharab ho gaya hai. Tujhe Chacha bolne pe mujhe dhamki de rahi hai. Abey tu bhee toh kuch bol! Tu gunga ho gaya hai kya?"
Hamza rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a long, heavy sigh. He looked at Uzair, his expression serious and deeply grounded. "Uzair... main janta hoon tu kya soch raha hai. Aur main janta hoon ke yeh sab kitna galat lag raha hai. Magar jo yeh keh rahi hai... woh sach hai. Main... main bhee isse..." He looked down at Alisha, his dark eyes softening for a brief second into that raw, private tenderness. "Main bhee isse mohabbat karta hoon. Magar maine kabhi Havelli ki izzat par haath dalne ki koshish nahi ki."
"Uzair chachu aap na kaan khol ke sun lijiye!" Alisha shouted back, her cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink. "Yeh mere koi chacha nahi hain! Aur main inhi se nikah karungi!"
"Nikah?" Uzair gasped dramatically as he sat back down on the chair.
Hamza’s eyes practically popped out of his skull. He grabbed Alisha’s arm, pulling her back slightly. "Alisha! Aap pagal ho gayi hain kya?! Kuch bhi bol rahi hain Uzair ke saamne!"
"Main bilkul pagal nahi hoon!" Alisha declared, her stubborn Baloch blood completely taking over. She shook her arm free and looked at both terrified men with an expression of absolute, unyielding authority. "Main aaj hi havelli jaongi. Aur aaj hi Abbu ko sab sach bata dungi ke main Hamza se nikah karna chahti hoon!"
The room went completely, utterly, dangerously still.
"Ya Allah… main kahan jaoon? Agar Rehman Bhai ko pata chala na… toh woh hum teeno ko isi flat ke bahar ulta latka denge. Aur Hamza, sabse pehle teri aur meri boti-boti karenge. Woh bolenge ke Uzair, tu toh iska dost tha, tu kya so raha tha jab yeh sab chal raha gah?" Uzair whined, clutching his head.
"Nahi... nahi, nahi! Alisha, khuda ke liye aisa mat karna! Agar tu ne Bhai jaan ko bataya, toh woh sab se pehle meri jaan lenge! Unhein lagega ke main roz tujhe college chhodne ke bahaane Hamza ke flat par drop karta hoon! Meri jannat ki ticket kat jayegi!"
"Aur meri toh maut pakki hai!" Hamza added, his usual calm, stoic demeanor completely collapsing into pure panic. He stepped directly in front of Alisha, his hands hovering near her shoulders, his eyes wide with desperate pleading. "Alisha, meri baat suniye. Aap thoda hosh mein aaiye. Rehman Bhai ko agar pata chala, toh Lyari mein khoon ki nadiyaan beh jayengi. Aap abhi havelli wapas jaiye, Uzair ke saath."
"Main nahi jaongi! Aur main darrti nahi hoon Abbu se!" Alisha huffed, tilting her chin up, completely deaf to their logic. "Agar unhein gussa aana hai, toh aaye! Main chup-chup kar is tarah Lyari ke chote kamro mein nahi mil sakti!"
"Abey Hamza, kuch kar!" Uzair yelled from the floor, scrambling back up to his feet. "Apni is ziddi Shehzadi ko samjha! Yeh hum dono ko upar pahoncha kar hi dum legi!"
"Aap dono jitna bhee chillayein, mujhe koi nahi rok sakta," she whispered playfully, her chin tilted up high. "Main kitni ziddi hoon, yaad hai na?"
