Stepping in, she felt a whirlwind of emotions surrounding her.
This place.
This place forced her memory back to the time where she had no voice. When she was nothing but a puppet.
A puppet of Shehryaar's demand and desires.
When she did not have a say in anything.
When her life had discovered its lowest of the lows.
When taking her life was easier as compared to taking a few breaths to live, to move on.
When every second was spent in fear and terror of encountering him, upsetting him.
And when the strings of her life was totally in the hands of the man who stood beside her.
"Five years," Sheharzaad muttered, her eyes inspecting the nooks and corners and then reached Shehryaar, "and how much life has changed,"
"Positively or negatively?" he asked.
"I.. don't know. But I think positively. I've Chahat,"
"We've Chahat," he corrected her and she remained quiet. "Let's go," he held her hand and led her inside.
The haveli wasn't as vibrant as it used to be. She had come to know that Dua had escaped. Haseeb was now abroad. Haya got married and has moved to the States. Irtaza and Zahra lived near to the haveli in their separate mansion. Their cousin Saif was the only in Pakistan and helped his father, Haroon in the business he had here. Alizey was now ten years old. Their grandmother had grown old and quiet after their grandfather's death and segregation of the family. Total 7 stayed now in the haveli. Their grandmother. His father, Haider. His uncle and aunt, Haroon and Asma and their son, Haseeb's brother, Saif and little Alizey. Zahra's mother, Ammara.
As they moved in, her eyes fixed on the lounge, which once used to be vibrant and full of people and bickerings of the young lads was now quiet. Only his grandmother sat there, sipping on her morning tea and watching TV. On the TV played, one of the indian soap operas, and Sheharzaad smiled. Five years back the drama was still going on and his grandmother used to watch it with enthusiasm and now, present day, the drama was still going on and she still watched it with the same enthusiasm and interest. The same drama.
She remember his grandmother missing episodes at the night so she would wake up at that time when the episode would be broadcasted again only to catch up with the episode.
"Assalam alaikum," Sheharzaad muttered, grasping her attention.
"Ahh! Sheharzaad!" She uttered with a surprised expression and Sheharzaad smiled back at her. She thought she would definitely be in his family's bad books since she was the one who made Shehryaar suffer alot.
"Come daughter! Come!" She said but was already standing up, when Sheharzaad quickly approached her.
"How are you?" Sheharzaad asked and hugged her.
"I'm fine, beti," Her voice was sweet and warm.
She had no hard feelings with his family. Not after five long years. Even with Asma. Or Dua. She was neutral regarding whatever she had in her heart for them. They were not aware of what Shehryaar had been doing with her behind the doors. Even if they were, she knew, they couldn't do anything. They treated her like her family. As if she was always a part of them. Though her trauma and Shehryaar's fear never let her to be open and interact with them but they did not treat her as an outsider despite the walls she had created around her. His grandmother did not treat her differently than her grandchildren. She rather felt bad for her because of the death of her husband. They had been together for decades. She was aware that how difficult it would have been for her to cope up with this change in her life.
"I brought someone for you to meet," she expressed and on the cue turned towards Shehryaar. It was then her old eyes fell on Shehryaar and then on the little child in his arms, with her head hanging on his shoulder.
"She is our daughter, dadi," Sheharzaad told.
"Chahat?" His grandmother asked and she nodded her head.
"Chahat," Shehryaar said, coming closer to his grandmother.
"Oh what a sweet name,"
"Sheharzaad told me that she wanted to meet Baba today and I suggested to go to haveli. Chahat will also meet with her family,"
"Oh my beautiful Chahat," his grandmother caressed the sleeping Chahat's pinky cheeks who was snorting.
"Ghulam deen! Mariam!" she called out for the servants who came running.
"My granddaughter has come to the haveli for the very first time. Go and distribute sweets and fulfil the needs of the poor. Arrange a feast for them. And," she continued giving orders and announced a little celebration. The haveli had been surrounded with dark clouds of sorrows since so long.
"Mariam take Chahat to my room," Shehryaar ordered and the maid came close together, held sleeping Chahat from his grasp and went upstairs to his room.
"Thank you, Sheharzad. Thank you for coming," There was genuine hope and happiness in the old lady's house. Seemed like her husband's death and her grandchildren going away from her at this age affected her.
"It's fine, dadi, (grandma)"
"Please go and take rest. Make yourself comfortable. I'll ask them to serve the lunch,"
And they both took their leavee.
.....
"I loved her. Maybe....I still do," Haider's eyes had a distantness in them as if his mind wasn't in the present rather residing in the past.
"But... then why was she involved with Omer?" Sheharzaad's grey eyes were full of questions and confusions. She was trying to put two and two together.
"My uncle and aunt did not have children for years. So they adopted her.... and in an unfortunate accident both of them passed away, leaving Jaha Ara alone in this haveli. She was alone... and I saw that in her eyes. My father," Haider stopped and then his eyes moved towards Sheharzaad, "have you seen how Irtaza and Shehryaar like?" he asked.
"Shehryaar was.... cruel. A tyrant..." Sheharzaad said in a whisper.
"They both are nothing but reflection of my father. Rather my father was crueler. The mafia he was setting up was in its initial stages and if he were not as cruel as he was then maybe this mafia wouldn't have stand where is it today. It required cruelty. That mafia stole innocence of both my children,"
Sheharzaad remained quiet. Haider was letting his heart out. It was as if he was first time speaking about what he had been through. All these years, he had been neglected. He had been alone. As if he wanted to be heard too. Just like Shehryaar. many were the victims of cruelty of Jaha Ara's extra-marital affair.
"My father," he continued his story from where he had left, "he was cruel. Very cruel. He didn't trust anyone apart from family. He was against adopting children. So he treated Jaha Ara differently from other since she was adopted. I felt that. I saw her lonliness. I wanted to hold her hand. I wanted to comfort her. I wanted her to make her feel equal," Haider told and took a deep sigh. "I thought I loved her.... and I told my father that I wanted to marry this girl. He had agreed. Though he didn't like her much but she had been the part of family since long to be considered as a family,"
Sheharzaad just felt pure evilness coming from Haider's father. He was an evil man. And anyone who would have been as close as Shehryaar had been with him then definitely his evilness would have casted an impact.
"But... apparently as far as I knew... Jaha Ara.... did not agree. I asked my father that I'm fine. f she doesn't agree, I'm fine. You know the reason my father didn't make me the heir of his mafia legacy," he asked, suddenly going out of the topic.
"Why?"
"Because... of my disagreement with the marriage after Jaha Ara's disapproval. My father was disappointed in me. He had this vision of snatching things if you don't get it the right way. That was why he took my children and brought him under his shade because he wanted them to continue his mafia. He wanted them to be like him and he made them like him. So his name and position in the mafia world could continue,"
Sheharzaad was speechless. She was short of words.
"My son," Haider raised his hand and looked at the lines drawn on his palm, "my son killed a person in cold blood... at the age of seven," His voice slightly constricted.
To suppress his emotion, he again took a deep sigh.
"Haider uncle... why you did not stop this?"
"I couldn't, daughter. I couldn't. He was my father. Not just my father but a mafia don. More than my sons they were his grandchildren. If I'd have taken any step and left with my children then he would have hunted me down and got both of my sons from me. They were the heirs. At their birth, my father had clearly told me this. My hands were tied. Tied,"
She could understand his helplessness. He couldn't do anything and his father destroyed the innocence of his sons at a very tender age.
"Haahh! Where was I?" he sighed, asking himself, and then continued, "my father then forced Jaha Ara to marry me. The reason of her disapproval was never revealed to me. I don't know whether my father knew the reason or not. But all he told me that she didn't agree but she will have to agree. He made it the issue of his ego. And at last I and Jaha Ara, bending to my father's will had to marry. And after marriage I came to know that she was.... raped,"