Raneya ran with everything she had, her heart pounding like a war drum inside her chest. The night air was thick, pressing against her like a second skin. Her bare feet pounded against the rough pavement, but she barely registered the pain. The only thing that mattered was getting away—away from the monster, away from the blood, away from the nightmare that had nearly consumed her.
She didn't know where she was going. The road stretched endlessly before her, shrouded in darkness, as if the world itself had turned against her. Shadows flickered from the dim streetlights, distorting into twisted shapes that made her breath hitch. But she kept running. Faster. Harder. Her lungs burned, her muscles screamed in protest, but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.
Until her body betrayed her.
Her legs wobbled, the adrenaline that had fueled her escape finally wearing thin. She stumbled, her knees buckling beneath her, and collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving asphalt. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a painful reminder that she was still alive.
For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the starless sky. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She had no more tears left to give. Her hands trembled as she touched her face, feeling the warmth of her own skin, reminding herself that she was real. That she had made it out. That Zaryab was gone.
But was he?
A sickening dread coiled in her stomach. She had seen the knife plunge into him, had seen the blood bloom across his chest like an ink stain spreading through fabric. But was it enough? Had she killed him? Or was he still alive, crawling through the darkness, hunting her down?
The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her, forcing her to push herself upright. She had to keep moving. She couldn't stay here. But where could she go? Who could she trust?
Her mind raced, searching for an answer. There was no one. No one who would understand. No one who wouldn't turn her in or look at her with disgust.
Except…
Her fingers curled into fists. There was one place-her maternal home, where her parents lived. With a deep, shuddering breath, Raneya forced herself to her feet. Her body ached, exhaustion weighing down on her limbs, but she refused to give in. She wrapped her arms around herself, shielding against the cold as she took one shaky step forward. Then another. And another.
One thought anchored her, kept her moving through the endless night till she finally reached. She stood at the threshold, shivering, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
The once-familiar home loomed before her, unchanged yet feeling like a relic of a past life she no longer belonged to. The warmth of the house, the scent of old wooden furniture, and the faint aroma of spices from the evening's meal—all of it clashed against the cold emptiness inside her. This estranged house, which had once bid Raneya farewell with grandiosity, now stood in silent indifference as she stood before it, broken and betrayed. This was the home that had celebrated her departure, basking in the pride of fulfilling their "duty"—marrying off their daughter. And yet, here she was again, standing at its doorstep in the dead of the night, trembling, hollow, and desperate.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, gathering the last remnants of her strength, and pressed the doorbell. The sharp chime cut through the silence of the house like a dagger.
Inside, Fazeela and Qureshi Sahab stirred from their slumber, their peaceful night shattered by the unexpected sound. Fazeela frowned, rubbing her temples as she nudged her husband awake. "Who could it be at this hour?" she mumbled, irritation lacing her voice.
Aanya also roused from her sleep. She shuffled out of her room, rubbing her eyes lazily. "Who rings the bell at 3 a.m.?" she grumbled, yawning.
"Go see who it is," Fazeela instructed impatiently, pulling her shawl around her.
Still groggy, Aanya walked toward the door, unlocking it with sluggish fingers. The door creaked open, and her sleepy eyes landed on the figure before her.
Her breath hitched.
"Apa…?"
Her voice was barely a whisper as her drowsiness dissipated instantly. Her wide eyes traveled over Raneya—her once-immaculate bridal attire now torn and stained, her jewelry hanging loose, her hands bruised, her makeup smudged beyond recognition. The dried streaks of tears on her cheeks, the tremor in her shoulders—everything about her screamed devastation.
Aanya stumbled back, her mouth open in shock. "Ammi! Baba!" she shrieked, panic gripping her.
The urgency in her voice sent a jolt through Fazeela and Qureshi Sahab. They rushed to the doorway, their expressions shifting from annoyance to sheer disbelief as their eyes fell upon their newly wed daughter.
Fazeela gasped, her hand flying to her chest. Qureshi Sahab stiffened, his face unreadable.
Raneya stood still, barely holding herself up, her breaths coming in ragged, shallow bursts. The weight of their silence was suffocating.
Fazeela and Qureshi Sahab stood frozen, their faces a mix of shock, confusion, and something else—something Raneya had hoped not to see. Disappointment.
Aanya, her younger sister, was the first to react. "Apa…?" she whispered, blinking rapidly as if convincing herself that what she saw was real. Her gaze swept over Raneya's torn bridal attire, the bruises darkening her skin, the smudged kohl around her hollow eyes.
Fazeela's hand flew to her mouth, but she said nothing. Her father, Qureshi Sahab, remained eerily silent, his expression unreadable.
The silence stretched, pressing against her like a physical force. The weight of their judgment, their expectations, their pride—it was suffocating.
Fazeela finally spoke. "Ya Allah… what is this? What happened to you?" Her voice quivered, but there was something else beneath it—a hesitation, a refusal to immediately embrace the horror unfolding before her.
Raneya's lips trembled. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words felt foreign, stuck in her throat.
"Let me in," she finally whispered, her voice hoarse.
Fazeela and Qureshi exchanged a glance. Aanya's fingers curled into her nightshirt as she stared at her sister, unable to process the sight before her.
Then, after a tense moment, Qureshi Sahab stepped aside, allowing her to enter. The house felt different. Colder. Less like a home, more like a cage.
She staggered in, her feet dragging against the floor, and collapsed onto the nearest chair. Aanya rushed to fetch a glass of water, her fingers trembling as she handed it to her sister. Raneya gripped it with both hands, her body too weak to do otherwise, and took a sip, the liquid burning down her parched throat.
Qureshi Sahab's sharp voice sliced through the silence. "Explain."
Raneya flinched. Her fingers tightened around the glass.
She forced herself to meet his eyes. "Zaryab—he wasn't who you thought he was," she rasped. "He—he wasn't a husband. He was a monster."
Fazeela's brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"
"I ran." Her voice cracked. "Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't be alive right now."
Silence.
Her father exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead. "Do you know what people will say?"
Anger flared within her, raw and uncontainable. "People? Is that what matters right now?" Her voice rose, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I was dying there, Baba. And you're worried about what people will say?"
Raneya thought she saw something flicker in her father's eyes—concern, maybe? But before she could hold onto that hope, Fazeela scoffed.
"You're lying."
Raneya's heart clenched. "Ammi—"
"You always had a problem, didn't you?" Fazeela's voice rose, her anger flaring. "You never wanted this marriage. You never wanted to obey us. And now, what? You run away in the middle of the night and come here with a made-up story, hoping we'll take you back?"
Raneya's hands shook. "I'm not lying."
Fazeela's eyes burned with fury. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The shame you've brought upon this house? The disgrace?"
Raneya recoiled as if struck.
Aanya, standing in the corner, fidgeted, torn between fear and sympathy. "Ammi, please—"
"Enough, Aanya!" Fazeela snapped. Her nostrils flared as she turned back to Raneya, her face twisted with disappointment. "You have destroyed us. Do you hear me? Destroyed us!"
Raneya felt numb. Her mother's words sliced through her like a blade.
Fazeela's hands balled into fists before she grabbed Raneya's wrist. "Get up. Get out."
Raneya stared at her in disbelief.
"I said GET OUT!" Fazeela pulled harder, dragging her toward the door.
She turned on her heel, the weight of abandonment crashing over her.
But then—
"Stop."
Qureshi Sahab's voice, firm and unwavering, echoed through the room.
Fazeela froze. She turned to her husband, her mouth parting in protest, but the look in his eyes made her stop.
"I believe her," he said simply.
A breath Raneya didn't realize she was holding escaped her lips.
Qureshi Sahab stepped forward. "She is my daughter, and she will stay in this house with the respect she deserves." His voice was calm but commanding. "We will investigate this legally."
Fazeela's face contorted in anger. "You're willing to risk our name for—"
"Enough, Fazeela." His glare sent chills down her spine, his authority undisputed. "Not another word."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Fazeela clenched her jaw, her fury palpable, but she said nothing more.
Raneya's body sagged with exhaustion as she collapsed onto the floor, her bridal lehenga pooling around her. Her mind was in chaos, but for the first time in hours, she had something to hold onto.
Hope.
The night stretched long, the house drowning in its own silence. Aanya, exhausted, curled up beside her mother and drifted to sleep. Fazeela, though quiet, shot daggers at Raneya every chance she got.
Qureshi Sahab sat in deep thought, his fingers interlocked, his eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he got up and disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him.
Raneya sat still against the wall, her body drenched in sweat, her mind in turmoil. The house, once a place of warmth and familiarity, now felt like a graveyard of broken ties. The night stretched long, silent, each passing second pressing down on her like an unbearable weight. Qureshi Sahab had given her a lifeline, a sliver of hope. With that thought, she decided to check on her father.
But now, as she stood outside his door, her heart pounded violently in her chest. The muffled voices from inside made her blood run cold.
She hesitated. A part of her wanted to walk away, to pretend she hadn't heard anything. But something—perhaps instinct, perhaps fear—kept her feet rooted to the ground. Slowly, she leaned in, her breath hitching as she listened.
She pressed her ear against the wood.
A voice, low and grave, sent a chill crawling down her spine.
"This is not what we agreed upon," Qureshi Sahab's voice was sharp, almost whispering but laced with unmistakable urgency.
A second voice, one that Raneya didn't recognize, responded. It was deep, calculating. "You knew what would happen. The deal was made. She was delivered."
Raneya's stomach twisted. Delivered?
"She wasn't supposed to come back," Qureshi Sahab muttered. "That was the whole point. She was supposed to stay there."
Her breath caught in her throat. Her father—her own father—had known.
The other man scoffed. "And yet, here we are. Your daughter is back in your house, alive. Which means we have a problem."
Raneya's nails dug into her palms as nausea rose within her.
A pause. Then her father's voice strained. "What do you want me to do?"
The answer came swiftly, ruthlessly.
"Get rid of her."
The floor beneath her seemed to disappear. A sharp ringing filled her ears as the words echoed in her skull. Get rid of her.
Raneya stumbled back, her mind screaming, but her body paralyzed. Her blood turned to ice. Her father—her protector, the man who had just promised to stand by her—was planning to erase her. She had escaped one monster… only to return to another.