Chapter 25
This chapter is not edited so read at your own risk
Please vote, comment and share.
Happy reading ??
_______________________________________
Author's POV
“Bhabi, I’ll miss you so so so much…”, Khwaish almost squealed as she crushed Safiya into a bone-cracking hug, refusing to let go. Her slender arms wrapped around Safiya with such force that for a second, Safiya thought she might actually topple over.
Safiya’s hands, though gentle, lingered with a touch of reluctance as she hugged her back. Her throat felt heavy, her eyes already clouding with moisture. “Main bhi tumhe bahut miss karungi…” (I will miss you too…), she whispered, her voice soft yet trembling.
In truth, Khwaish had been more than just a sister-in-law.
She was her friend , her laughter-filled companion in this sprawling mansion where everything else felt cold and intimidating.
Khwaish’s chatter had filled up the silences, her childish tantrums had softened the sharp edges of reality.
Now, with her leaving for Almora, even if only for the weekdays, Safiya knew the house would turn unbearably quiet.
Khwaish pulled away, blinking rapidly to hold back her own tears. She sniffed, forcing a smile. “Weekend peh waapas aajaungi…” (I’ll return on weekends…) she reminded, as if that could lessen the ache in her own chest.
Before Safiya could respond, Khwaish suddenly latched onto Zaviyar next, throwing her arms around him.
The move made him stumble a little, unprepared for the force of her hug.
His large frame stiffened, then reluctantly relaxed as his arm circled her shoulder.
His voice, though firm, carried a faint edge of protectiveness.
“Apna khayal rakhna… aur ladko se door rehna. Agar kuch chahiye tohh call karna.”, Khwaish rolled her eyes at his warning.
(Take care of yourself… and stay away from boys. If you need anything, call me.)
“Bhai…”, she started as if she hadn’t already heard the same line a hundred times before. Still, the tears glistening at the corner of her eyes betrayed how much she valued the care hidden in his gruff words.
Her gaze flickered to Safiya then and with a tiny pout she added, “Aur bhai… Bhabi ka bhi khayal rakhna. Theek hai?” (And brother… take care of bhabi too. Okay?)
Zaviyar’s jaw flexed. He gave a stiff nod but the frown that crept onto his face was impossible to hide. His eyes darted towards Safiya before he inwardly groaned.
‘Why is everyone so bloody attached to her already? he thought bitterly. And wait... am I actually starting to sound like her in my head? Astaghfirullah!’
“Safiya beta, tum apna khayal rakhna… hum jaldi waapas aayenge. Aur Zaviyar ka bhi dhyaan rakhna.”, Riffat’s hand came down softly on Safiya’s head, her voice threaded with both fondness and trust. Safiya lowered her gaze respectfully, her lips pressing into a small, emotional smile.
But when Riffat turned her stern eyes onto her son, the atmosphere shifted.
(Safiya dear, take care of yourself… we’ll be back soon. And also take care of Zaviyar.)
“Zaviyar… Safiya ka dhyaan rakhna. Woh yahan nayi hai, usse pareshan mat karna. Aur sabse zaroori… usse daantna mat. Agar mujhe kabhi pta chala na…”, Her tone sharpened into a warning.
Zaviyar suppressed a scoff, his lips twitching as he forced a straight face.
Safiya, standing beside, threw him a side glance and immediately noticed the way his jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing back at her for no reason at all.
(Zaviyar… look after Safiya. She’s new here, don’t trouble her. And most importantly… don’t scold her. If I ever find out…)
‘Yeh aur chik-chik na karein? Kya yeh mumkin hai?’, she thought with a scowl. (He won’t nag? Is that even possible?)
Finally, he exhaled and said flatly, “Nahi daantunga, Ammi…” (I won’t scold her, mother…)
But his heart silently rebelled. ’Daant khane layak kaam karegi toh daant toh padegi.’ (If she does things that deserve scolding, then she’ll get it.)
Riffat narrowed her eyes further, clearly unconvinced before softening slightly.
“Aur haan… kaam mein itna mat ghus jaana ki ghar aana hi bhool jao, aur saath mein biwi ko bhi. Samay se ghar aana. Samajhe?”, Riffat said making Safiya feel awkward.
(And yes… don’t drown yourself so much in work that you forget to come home. Come on time. Understood?)
However, Safiya’s lips curved into a mischievous smile as she watched silently, delighting in the rare scene of her all-powerful husband being lectured like a child.
“Safiya beta…” Riffat turned to her again, her voice warm, “…agar yeh ghar der se aaye na toh mujhe turant batana. Bilkul andar ghusne mat dena.”, Safiya’s eyes lit up instantly at the thought of such privilege. She nodded eagerly, a sheepish grin forming on her face.
(Safiya dear… if he comes home late, tell me immediately. Don’t even let him enter inside.)
“Jee Ammi…” (Yes, mother…) she said with playful obedience before hugging Riffat once more, followed by another tight hug with Khwaish.
Nauman’s voice floated from outside, firm yet affectionate. “Begum, chaliye… der ho rahi hai.” (Wife, let’s go… it’s getting late.)
And then, the goodbyes dissolved into the low rumble of suitcases being dragged, doors shutting, and cars pulling out of the grand mansion’s gates. Safiya stood at the threshold, waving until the cars disappeared from sight, her chest tightening with a strange emptiness.
The silence that followed felt deafening. No Khwaish to fill it with chatter, no Riffat’s motherly presence, no Nauman’s steady calm. Just her and Zaviyar.
She let her hand fall slowly, her smile fading into something unreadable. The weight of reality pressed upon her chest, she was now completely, utterly stuck with her husband.
Zaviyar, meanwhile, adjusted his shawl, turning his back as always, his tall frame walking away with his usual air of indifference. His shawl trailed behind him like a flowing declaration of arrogance.
Safiya’s eyes lingered on it, her lips twitching. Esi shawl kharidni padegi… itni comfy lag rahi hai. (I’ll have to buy a shawl like this… it looks so comfy.)
But even that stray thought couldn’t hide the truth, tonight the mansion already felt bigger, emptier and lonelier.
___________________________________________
Two days later
Safiya sat at the round table in the living room, her laptop screen glowing in the dim light while the staff busied themselves with cleaning. The low hum of dusters swiping and utensils being put away echoed faintly around her, but she was too absorbed in her typing to care.
Her mother had already sent her belongings, though they still lay untouched in heaps inside the walk-in closet of her shared room with Zaviyar.
Files and law journals now formed their own mountain beside her luggage, each one crying for her attention, yet Safiya hadn’t even bothered to unpack her clothes.
Instead, she continued pulling outfits out of her suitcase every morning, treating the unpacked luggage as if it were permanent.
That afternoon she wore a soft co-ord set, plain, breathable, comfortable. Her glasses rested neatly on the bridge of her nose, while her hair was tied into a lazy bun, stray strands slipping free to fall over her forehead like curtain bangs.
It was when she lifted her head for a sip of water that she noticed movement outside.
A tall figure, draped in his ever-present shawl, walked briskly out of the mansion.
Zaviyar. Probably heading to work. Her lips curved into a tiny scoff.
Without another thought, she rolled her eyes and returned to the comfort of her files.
The rest of the day dissolved into silence and productivity. She didn’t even bother instructing the staff to make her a proper meal, preferring to snack on sliced fruit, nuts, and salads. Heavy food makes me drowsy, she told Shabana, pushing her appetite aside.
By evening, the house felt too large, too empty. Around 9 p.m., Mansi appeared, her hands folded politely, voice hesitant as if she had already asked a hundred times that day.
“Safiya aapi, you should eat something… Sir might come late.”, Safiya gave her a small smile but shook her head. “It’s okay Mansi, I’m not feeling like eating. You should go rest.”
The woman lingered for a second, concern flickering in her eyes before finally nodding and retreating. Soon after, one by one, the rest of the staff retired to their quarters. Their footsteps faded down the hallways until silence wrapped itself around the mansion like a heavy blanket.
For a few more hours Safiya worked tirelessly, her fingers flying over the keyboard, sifting through case notes and arguments.
By the time she finally closed her laptop, it was almost midnight.
Her shoulders ached, her back begged for rest. She stretched her arms above her head and glanced around, realizing how dim the house had become.
The grand chandeliers, once glowing, now cast only a muted golden haze.
Her eyes flicked toward the corridor. The thought struck her.
Should she head to one of the guest rooms and sleep?
Or should she just curl up on the couch in the living room?
The idea of going upstairs, into that vast, silent bedroom void of any presence in this entire mansion felt heavier than she liked to admit.
She stood and padded quietly to the entrance, pulling the main door open.
Relief trickled through her chest when she spotted guards outside lined up from the main gate to the entrance, sharp and alert.
The premises were heavily guarded. She exhaled slowly, tension draining from her body, yet the relief was short-lived.
Guards or not, she would still have to sleep alone.
Alone. The word echoed in her chest.
Ever since the family had left, Zaviyar had made no attempt to share a room with her. Their marriage existed in documents and duty not in reality.
That's when she remembered his words, ‘Dont expect anything from me’ and she truly didn't.
She had quietly shifted herself to the room next to his.
Her excuse to the staff to get it cleaned and not raise questions was that she needed space for her case files.
And though the bed in the guest room was comfortable, she always returned to Zaviyar's room before dawn, careful not to be caught.
Even in her own home, she felt like she was sneaking.
A gust of night wind slipped inside and made her shiver.
She wrapped her arms around herself and hurried back inside.
Switching on the television, she flipped through channels until she settled on a newly-aired legal drama, Law and the City.
She didn’t watch intently, just let the voices fill the emptiness.
Then the thunder began.
A deafening crack split the silence, making her jolt upright.
Her hand instinctively flew to her chest as she rubbed the frantic beating of her heart.
For a moment, she almost laughed at herself for jumping at thunder like a child.
Still, she kept her eyes on the TV, forcing herself to focus on the bright screen.
Minutes melted into hours. By the time the clock ticked past 2 a.m., there was still no sign of Zaviyar. Safiya glanced at her phone. An odd realization sank in. she didn’t even have her husband’s number.
Three weeks into this marriage… and I don’t even have his number. What a joke.
With a sigh, she scrolled through her contacts and messaged Khwaish. Zaviyar ka number bhej do.> (Send me Zaviyar’s number.)
The reply came within seconds, almost making her smile.
Aur tum 2 baje jaag rahi ho kyu?> (And why are you awake at 2 a.m.?) she scolded Khwaish back before saving the number.
Her fingers hesitated, then she finally dialed.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each time it went unanswered. The silence on the other end gnawed at her nerves.
By now, the thunder had faded into a soft drizzle outside.
The rhythmic patter of rain against the windows felt almost like a lullaby.
Safiya’s eyelids grew heavy. She tried to fight it, tried to wait for him but exhaustion had a firmer grip.
Slowly, her head dipped, her eyes slid shut, and before she knew it, she had drifted into the haze of dreams, leaving the unanswered calls glowing on her phone screen.
___________________________________________
Zaviyar's pov
It was past 3 a.m. when I finally got home. The car slowed to a stop at the gates and as always, the chauffeur was out before me, umbrella in hand. A fine drizzle misted the night air, dampening the pavement and making the marble stairs glisten under the dim lamps.
I stepped out, pulling my shawl closer as I walked toward the entrance. The silence of the night was broken only by the soft patter of rain. My mind was still cluttered with the day’s endless meetings, phone calls, and signatures that never seemed to end.
But as soon as I stepped inside the mansion, I froze.
The entire house was lit up. Not just the wall lamps, not just the corridors.
every corner blazed as if the sun itself had decided to visit Khan Mansion.
Normally, by this hour, only a handful of lights would remain on, casting the place in hushed gold.
But now, it looked like a festival gone wrong.
I frowned, slipping off my shoes at the entrance. That’s when I caught it, the faint noise of a television playing.
My steps echoed against the marble as I followed the sound, and the sight that greeted me made me stop in my tracks.
Safiya.
She was curled on the long couch, her head tilted to the side, one hand resting over her stomach with a thick case file lying across it. The glow from the TV flickered over her face while some ridiculous Chinese drama played in the background.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Yeh naye zamaane ki ladkiyan bhi na… sab Chinese, sab Korean. Kya musibat hai.”, he frowned remembering Khwaish going crazy over some Korean guy a few years ago.
(These new generation girls… everything is Chinese, everything is Korean. What nonsense.)
I sounded like a proper middle-aged uncle, but I couldn’t care less.
Walking forward, I switched off the TV, plunging the room into relative silence.
Only then did I notice the dining table which was set neatly, untouched.
A full meal waiting, now gone cold. My jaw tightened.
Had she even eaten? Or had she worked herself all day and forgotten something as basic as dinner?
My irritation shifted into something else when I spotted her phone glowing on the side table. Curious, I picked it up and instantly noticed the screen—my number flashing boldly, the log filled with repeated calls.
I frowned, plugging my own phone into the nearest socket. When it powered on, the barrage of missed calls confirmed it. she had been trying to reach me. Over ten times.
Why?
My gaze drifted back to her. Safiya stirred faintly, rolling onto her side, adjusting the file. For a moment, the light revealed her hand, the burn mark. Healing but still visible.
And just like that, my chest tightened, the memory flooding back.
Flashback......
That night, I had come home late, my temper still simmering from our fight. I had stripped off my suit, trying to breathe, to push away the guilt I didn’t want to acknowledge.
Yes, guilt. She had burned her hand, and I…
I had shouted at her without even letting her explain.
My words had been sharp, my tone unforgiving.
And yet, there she was, in pain, still managing to throw accusations back at me.
Safiya Shah was something else. Sharp-tongued, unpredictable.
Was she truly innocent or was it all an act?
I’d dismissed it, wanting to go to bed. But then I noticed her hand.
The burn looked angry, raw. Without thinking, I had walked to the trolley, still littered with shards of broken glass and picked up the ointment. Sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her bed, I had gently taken her hand, careful not to wake her.
Unwrapping the bandage slowly, I applied the medicine in light strokes, as if the slightest pressure would cause her more pain. My movements betrayed me. I, Zaviyar Khan, the man people claimed had no softness, no patience, was sitting here like a fool tending to her wound.
When she stirred, my heart nearly dropped. But she only turned in her sleep, facing me, her breathing evening out again. Relief washed over me and I quickly finished tying the bandage.
But then my eyes betrayed me.
Her face was inches away, peaceful in sleep.
Her nose scrunched, her curtain bangs spilling over her forehead.
Her lips chapped, slightly pouted looked too soft, too tempting.
My hand moved before I could stop it, tucking the stray strands gently behind her ear, my fingers brushing her cheek.
For a heartbeat, I just looked. She seemed so harmless in that moment. Cute, almost. Beautiful, if I dared to say it.
And that’s when I snapped out of it.
What the hell am I thinking? About her? Never...
I’d cursed under my breath and pulled away, shaking my head. She wasn’t cute. She wasn’t beautiful. She was trouble. And I couldn’t afford to see her any other way.
The last thought before sleep had been an image of her sleeping soundly, unaware of the storm she brought with her.
Flashback endsm...
I exhaled sharply, dragging myself back to the present. Safiya was still there, curled on the couch, soft breaths leaving her lips.
I told myself I wouldn’t carry her to her room. I wouldn’t cover her with a blanket. I didn’t want to give her false hopes, didn’t want her to think this marriage meant something when it clearly did not. Letting her expect warmth from me would be the biggest mistake.
And yet…
I noticed her shoulders trembling from the cold. My jaw clenched and I cursed under my breath. Finally, with a sigh, I pulled my shawl from my shoulders and draped it over her.
Just the shawl. Nothing more.
I sank into the single sofa at the head of the couch, leaning back. My eyes, however, remained on her. Peaceful. Vulnerable. A part of me itched to believe maybe she was different from her father, maybe she wasn’t poisoned with the same blood.
But then I remembered.
My mother's words. The careless mention of “your children will inherit the Khan empire.” The very idea had made me recoil. I couldn’t even imagine a lifetime with her, let alone children.
No. I couldn’t afford to weaken. Whatever softness I felt looking at her right now was nothing but a trick of the night. She carried the same filthy blood as the man who had once destroyed my family. She was bound to be like him.
Better cruel than fooled. If I had to be the villain in her story, so be it.
My eyes grew heavy, my body surrendering to the exhaustion of the day. Before long, I drifted into sleep, head leaning against the backrest, shawl wrapped around her, the distance between us both closer and yet wider than ever.
___________________________________________
Author's POV
The next morning, Safiya stirred awake, stretching her arms lazily as the sunlight streamed in through the tall windows. Just as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she froze.
A circle of faces surrounded her. The household staff. The maids, female helpers and the cleaners — stood staring as though she had sprouted two heads overnight. Their wide-eyed expressions made her blink rapidly in confusion.
Instinctively, her hand flew to search for her dupatta. Her cheeks heated under the weight of so many eyes. Spotting a flicker of white at her side, she hastily snatched it up and draped it around herself like armor. Only it wasn’t her dupatta.
The fabric was heavier, softer and carried a faint masculine scent. A hint of sandalwood and something sharper. His cologne. She looked down and her stomach dropped. Draped around her shoulders was Zaviyar’s signature cream shawl. Her breath hitched.
“Aap kal yahi soyi, Safiya aapi??” Rida’s shocked voice broke the silence, disbelief etched across her face. (You slept here last night, Safiya aapi??)
Before Safiya could gather words, another chimed in. “Aap nahi, aap log bolo Rida! Dekha nahi, kaise Nawab sahab ki shawl bhi hai saath mein!” (Not just her, her and sir, Rida! Can’t you see sir’s shawl is here with her?)
A murmur ran through the group like wildfire. Someone whispered, “Lekin Nawab sahab hain kaha?” (But where is Nawab sahab?)
Safiya’s eyes darted down again, taking in the shawl.
It was thick, warm, draped around her like a shield from the world’s prying gaze.
And in that instant, it clicked. She must have dozed off in the living room last night.
Zaviyar must have returned late, seen her and silently covered her before retreating.
The thought made her chest tighten strangely. She bit her tongue, mortified, scrambling to stand but the staff weren’t done.
“Safiya aapi aur Nawab sahab… fit kaise aaye honge yaha?” Mansi muttered with a mischievous grin, her tone dripping with implication. (Safiya aapi and Nawab sahab… how would they have fit here?)
Safiya’s ears flamed scarlet.
Rida gasped dramatically, shaking her head. “Arey pehle Nawab sahab soye… unke upar Safiya bibi… ek saath aise…” (First Nawab sahab lay down… then Safiya bibi on top of him… like this together…)
“Oyee! Esa kuch nahi hua hai, okay!” Safiya snapped, her voice louder than intended, but it only made her cheeks hotter. (Nothing like that happened, okay!)
“Isiliye toh aap sharam se laal ho gayi hain…” one of them teased mercilessly, pointing to her flushed face. (That’s why you’ve turned red with shame…)
“Arey Rida, baat ko samjho… esa kuch nahi, isse bhi bohot kuch hua hai!” another added wickedly, earning giggles all around. (Oh Rida, understand—this isn’t all, there’s much more than this!)
By now, Safiya’s face had turned the color of a ripe tomato. Steam practically poured from her ears as she clutched the shawl tighter, glaring at the laughing group.
With a flustered huff, she finally walked away in mock outrage but inside she wished the earth would just swallow her whole.
Safiya turned tomato red. The sound of muffled giggles from the staff followed her down the hall, making her cheeks burn even hotter. With a sharp huff, she finally escaped into the safety of her room, closing the door behind her with a little more force than necessary.
For a moment, she just leaned against the door, pressing her palm to her chest, willing her heartbeat to calm down.
Nawab sahab ki shawl… The thought alone was enough to make her ears heat again.
She shook her head as if trying to physically toss the image away.
“Focus, Safiya,” she muttered under her breath, “you have to go to court today. No time for this nonsense.”
She moved to the wardrobe and laid out her uniform with practiced precision.
The black coat, crisp white shirt and starched bands gave her a sense of composure that she desperately needed after the morning’s embarrassing episode.
She dressed quickly, smoothing down the fabric, fastening each button carefully as though she could stitch her confidence back together with every motion.
At her dresser, she tied her hair into a sleek ponytail, her fingers swift and steady.
A light touch of kohl defined her sharp eyes, a dusting of powder brightened her tired skin, and a muted lipstick completed her professional look.
When she finally glanced at her reflection, she saw not the flustered woman wrapped in her husband’s shawl but Safiya Shah— the advocate, the fighter, the woman who didn’t bend under pressure.
She gathered her file, its leather cover firm beneath her grip and slipped her feet into polished black heels. Each click of the heel on the marble floor as she walked out of the room felt like a declaration.
But fate, of course, had other plans.
Just as she stepped into the hallway, her focus solely on the day ahead, she collided. Hard! She collided into what felt like a solid wall. The impact jolted the file from her arm, papers nearly spilling as her balance faltered. With a sharp intake of breath, she looked up.
And froze. It wasn’t a wall. It was Zaviyar.
He stood tall, immovable, his dark suit perfectly tailored, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the space between them. His broad chest had absorbed the force of her stumble and his hand instinctively shot out, fingers brushing the curve of her arm to steady her.
Safiya’s breath caught in her throat. For a brief second, she felt caged by his presenc. the intensity in his eyes pinning her where she stood. Her heart, which had just calmed down minutes ago, now beat erratically, betraying her.
She quickly pulled back, clutching her file tighter to her chest as though it could shield her from his gaze. Her heels clicked again as she straightened, chin tilting ever so slightly in defiance. But the heat creeping up her neck gave her away.
Zaviyar’s eyes flickered, briefly, to her advocate uniform. The crispness of her attire, the determined set of her jaw. It all made her look… untouchable. For a fleeting second, something softened in his expression. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by his usual inscrutable calm.
The silence stretched, heavy and taut, until Safiya finally spoke, het voice steady though her pulse betrayed her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. His hand brushed against her arm as if to steady her but she quickly straightened on her own, clutching the file to her chest.
“Move.”, Her one word sliced through the tension like a blade but it didn’t change the fact that the air between them still buzzed with everything unspoken.
“Court ke liye?” he asked finally, his deep voice calm, almost casual but with that undertone of authority she could never ignore. (For court?)
“Haan,” she replied, forcing her tone into a neutral steadiness, not wanting to give away the storm of nerves inside her.
“I have an important hearing today.”, His eyes flickered down briefly, taking in her advocate’s uniform, the clean ponytail, the confident stance. Something unreadable passed through his expression before he spoke again.
“How do you plan to go to Almora?”
“I’ll drive,” she answered briskly. “Apni car se jaungi.”, There was the slightest pause. Then his lips pressed into a firm line.
(I’ll take my car.)
“Driver le jaega tumhe.” (The driver will take you.)
“It’s fine. I can manage.”, Safiya frowned, tightening her grip on the file.
“Driver.” His voice left no room for argument. It was measured, soft even but absolute. It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a verdict.
For a heartbeat, she wanted to protest, to tell him she wasn’t a fragile doll who needed his arrangements. But the impenetrable calm in his eyes told her it would be useless. With a huff, she turned on her heel and said curtly, “Theek hai.” (Fine.)
She walked ahead, heels echoing through the corridors, her back stiff with restrained defiance.
Minutes later, the car door closed behind her as the driver pulled out of the mansion gates. Safiya leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly, trying to shake off the morning’s chaos and refocus on her case.
Behind her, Zaviyar remained at the window of his study, watching the black car roll out of the driveway. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, his expression unreadable.
Only when the car was a speck in the distance did his jaw tighten slightly. His voice was low, clipped, almost careless yet heavy with finality.
“Follow her, from the shadows. She shouldn't even get a flicker of doubt that you are watching her.”, Two of his men, waiting in silence, nodded once and disappeared.
Safiya, unaware of the silent shadow now tailing her, stared out of the window of the car, her mind already turning toward the courtroom battles ahead. What she didn't realise was that the real battle was the one brewing between her independence and Zaviyar’s quiet, possessive control.
___________________________________________
Her schedule was tight but never reckless. On most days, she argued two or three matters. One a bail hearing, one a sharp cross-examination, and finally a final argument that could stretch for hours.
Between hearings, she huddled with her juniors, scanning through files at a brisk pace, deciding what could be pushed to the next date and what demanded immediate attention.
She had to clear as much work as possible as tomorrow was Sunday and after the long break she had recently taken, she could not afford another.
By early afternoon, once the court sessions ended, she retreated to her chambers where a line of clients waited for consultations and strategy discussions.
The rest of the day was consumed by paperwork, legal research and meetings that stretched late into the evening.
It wasn’t the sheer number of cases that defined her work but the gravity of each one.
At just twenty-seven, she was already trusted with matters most advocates spent years only aspiring to touch. .
And yet, while she was deeply content with her work and its demands, she silently resolved never again to take such an extended break.
The backlog was suffocating, pressing in from every side.
If she kept pace, she would finish the urgent matters in time and then, perhaps, finally steal a breath before the next hearing loomed.
___________________________________________
Safiya’s POV
“Uncle, you should head home quickly. It feels like a heavy storm is about to start.”, I gave him a reassuring smile as I stepped out of the car, my heels crunching softly against the gravel.
The sky above was already bruised with angry shades of grey, clouds rolling in like a warning.
I checked the time and it was almost 8 pm.
The moment I entered the house, the warmth and aroma hit me. Fragrance of rich spices, slow-cooked curry and freshly baked naans wafted from the kitchen. My tired eyes softened at the sight of the staff busily arranging dishes on the grand dining table, their hands moving with familiarity.
“Safiya bibi, you’ve arrived..”, Shabana said with a smile..
“Yes… I’ll just freshen up and be back.”, I offered them a small smile before disappearing into the guest room. The warm bath washed away the faint chill clinging to my skin and soon I slipped into a soft co-ord set— white bottoms with a loose white top that had black intricate designs.
My damp hair brushed against my neck as I descended the stairs, only to notice something unusual. The staff, all of them, were standing clustered in the living room, whispering to each other in hesitant tones.
Their eyes flickered toward me nervously when I entered.
“Is something wrong? Why are you all standing here so quietly?”, They exchanged quick glances before one of them finally spoke.
“Madam… actually, there’s a wedding in the village today. We were wondering… if you don’t mind… could we go?”, For a moment, I just stared at them and then a soft laugh escaped me. Their hesitation was almost childlike.
“Toh usmein kya masla hai? Jaao, maze karo.”, Relief washed over their faces instantly as they started thanking me and rejoicing happily.
( So what’s the problem with that? Go, enjoy yourselves. )
“Shukriya, bibi ji. Hum dinner serve karke chale jaayenge.”, I shook my head lightly, waving my hand dismissively. I had already eaten a sandwich from the canteen and then Adhira later arrived at the court to meet me with cookies.
( Thank you, madam. We’ll serve dinner and then leave. )
“Nahi… chhodo. Waise bhi abhi mood nahi hai khane ka. Baad mein kha lungi.”, They hesitated again, shifting on their feet. I was about to walk past them and noticed the hesitation in their voice.
( No… leave it. Honestly, I don’t even feel like eating right now. I’ll eat later. )
“But… your dishes—”, Shabana started..
“They’re just dishes. I’ll wash them myself, don’t worry.”, their eyes softened with gratitude, the weight of my words easing their worry. I smiled faintly and gestured toward the door.
“Go on, don’t miss out on tonight’s fun.”, As they prepared to leave, another thought struck me.
“By the way… why are there only two guards at the gate tonight? Where are the others?”, I asked turning around only for Shabana to immediately reply.
“They all went with Sir… for some work.”, I hummed in acknowledgment, though unease stirred faintly at the back of my mind.
Soon they all left and I was left alone.
By the time the house fell silent again, it was nearly 11.
The emptiness pressed against me, the grand rooms echoing faintly with every step I took.
Hunger coiled in my stomach but I ignored it, curling lazily on the sofa with my phone while the tv played in the background.
I glanced towards the movie playing on the tv, it was another heartbreaking story and I paused it.
I glanced up only to notice that it was quite late.
Outside, the night had turned wild. The skies pitch black, trees bending violently under the force of the wind.
My phone buzzed with a flash alert— severe storm approaching.
“Great…” I muttered under my breath, scrolling aimlessly through Netflix to distract myself. But then—
BANG!
The windows slammed shut with a force that made me jump, a startled cry escaping my lips. My hand flew instinctively to my chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.
And then it came, loudly. The thunder. A deafening crack that ripped through the air, so close it rattled the walls. I froze, breath caught in my throat, palms turning clammy. Sweat trickled down my temple despite the chill.
“Bas… bas hawa hai. Darne ki baat nahi hai, Safiya…”, I whispered to myself, clutching the edge of my dupatta like a lifeline. But the storm was merciless. The windows rattled again, shuddering as if they would burst open any second.
( It’s just the wind. Nothing to be afraid of, Safiya… )
Summoning courage, I pushed myself up and hurried across the room. The giant glass panes loomed before me, trembling violently against the wind. My hands shook as I gripped the frame, struggling with all my strength to push them shut.
The storm howled louder, tugging the fabric of my clothes, whipping my hair across my face.
My arms ached, muscles straining but at last, with a sharp metallic click, the latch slid into place.
I sighed and leaned my forehead against the cold glass, breathing hard.
My reflection stared back at me... pale, damp, eyes wide with unease.
And for the first time in a long while, the house felt far too big. And i far too small or rather alone in this maze.
My muscles relaxed a little only for me to let out another squeal.
The windows rattled again, harder this time, the wind slamming them against the frame with such force that it echoed through the house.
I quickly ran to close them. I struggled to pull them shut, my palms pressed against the icy glass but the storm was stronger than me.
The latch slipped from my hand, and the pane banged violently, making me stumble back.
That’s when I heard it.
Low, guttural growls… followed by the unmistakable sound of dogs barking somewhere in the distance. The kind of sound that rose and fell as if carried by the wind itself. My throat went dry, my heart pounding against my ribs. The house suddenly felt much bigger, much emptier.
I quickly closed the window and pulled the curtains. I started murmuring prayers and was walking to the sofa, as soon as I turned towards the tv — darkness.
The television flickered once, then died. The entire house plunged into black silence, except for the howl of the storm outside. I froze, clutching my dupatta to my chest, before fumbling my way toward the couch. My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone. Without thinking, I dialed his number.
Fuck! Fuck! I hated the dark so so much. I hate it like anything.
“Pick up… please pick up, Zaviyar…”
The line rang. Once. Twice. Three times. He didn’t answer. My stomach twisted, my eyes burned with fear. I called again and again. Another loud thunder made me jolt as I let out a cry. My breathing grew ragged with every passing second.
Please Zaviyar, please pick up the call. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.
___________________________________________
Zaviyar’s POV
The polished mahogany table gleamed under the chandelier. Influential people sat around it, voices heavy with authority, discussions thick with promises and demands. I kept my composure, answering questions, giving orders, calculating my every word.
My phone vibrated. Her number flahsed across the screen. Yes, I hadn't saved her number. I didn't find the requirement to do it.
I started discussing the pressing matters once again only to be irritated at the constant buzz of my phone. My jaw tightened. She just wouldn’t stop.
I finally snatched the phone and pressed it to my ear, keeping my voice low but sharp.
“Stop irritating me. Get lost.”, And before she could utter a word, I cut the call. Switched the phone off. Slipped it back into my pocket, forcing my attention back to the table, as if she didn’t exist at all.
_______________________________________
Safiya’s POV
The call ended abruptly, his voice cutting sharper than the thunder outside. My hands shook as I stared at the dark screen, then dialed again only to realize the phone was switched off.
“No… no, please…” My voice cracked as I kept pressing the button, kept trying, as if sheer desperation would make the line connect again. A sudden crash tore through the silence.
I shrieked, dropping the phone onto the carpet. My wide eyes darted toward the sound. One of the vases lay shattered on the floor, pieces glittering faintly in the dark. And then, two glowing green eyes stared back at me from the shadows.
My breath caught. My legs tucked up on the sofa, arms hugging my knees, my entire body shaking. It was just a cat. Just a black cat. But in that moment, it felt like something unholy, an omen in the middle of the storm.
I fumbled for my phone again, still calling, still trying. The screen dimmed. At that moment i couldn't even call anyone else. Knowing no one could come to my rescue but him but again I was mistaken. Why would he come to rescue a nobody?
With last hope I switched to WhatsApp, sending him a message after message.
~ Please come home
~ Please Zaviya ciem heom
~ Plzzs pless
~ Come home
~ Even if I was dying
~ Would you not show up
The battery warning blinked red. And then... it died. “No!” I cried out, pressing the lifeless phone to my chest.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as the dam inside me broke. “Mama… Papa…” My voice cracked into the emptiness. The silence that followed was unbearable, broken only by the storm’s roar.
Another violent lightning strike lit up the sky, its blinding flash spilling into the room. I screamed. An earth-shattering cry ripped from the depths of my chest.
And then, all I could do was sit there on the sofa, curled into myself, sobbing and sobbing.
My body shook with every gasp, my heart aching, fear clawing at me until it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
The house swallowed my cries, leaving me alone with nothing but the storm, the shadows, and my own pain.
_______________________________________
If you’ve got any queries, feel free to DM me on Instagram at @arnoirverse
Let me know what you think.
What do you like in this chapter.
Don’t forget to vote, share, and comment.
Your support means everything!
100 votes and 200 comments and I'll post the next chaptersb???