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The winds howled in pain, like she would.

The rains poured endlessly, like she poured out her tears.

The sky turned dark, like she had when she lost her way.

The sun hid, trying to find solace in the darkness, just like she did but never achieved.

They all wanted the news to be false but it wasn't.

Ayla Khan was dead. She was to be buried in her grave in a mere hour.

The room was filled with sobs and guilty cries. For causing this innocent soul so much pain and anguish.

But they could not turn back the time, for they were only servants of the only One who could.

All they could do is repent and pray that He would accept it.

But even if they were repenting v did that necessarily mean that they meant it, that they felt guilty?

Or were they simply just repenting for the sake of not facing His wrath. The wrath that will ruin and destroy them all for ruining such a beautifully innocent soul.

But they forget that Allah sees all, hears all and feels all.

He knows how his creations deceive each other, he knows how his servants were feeling, he heard her pleas and eventually he gave to her what she deserved.

Peace.

Peace in the form of death.

And now everyone she knew of and who knew of her were sat around her.

Grieving, crying repenting.

This was just a reminder that death is the only thing promised in this world.

-

When her body arrived at the doorstep of the Hussain Haveli. Ismail went mad. He started screaming, crying, pulling his hair out. Screaming, "SHE CAN'T BE DEAD! THAT'S MY WIFE! MY AYLA! SHE CAN'T LEAVE ME NOW! SHE DIDN'T EVEN LEAVE ME WHEN I WOULD HURT HER! WHY HAS SHE GONE NOW?" After his mother and sister calmed down from his episode, and sat next to her cold, dead body, staring into space.

Silent. He became silent. Not a peep from him.

Soon enough, her family found out and they came to pay respects, ehilst the funeral preparations were being made by Haider Hussain.

The man who swore to destroy the girl and he did just that. But why? Why did he encourage his son to do such heinous things to that bekasoor girl? Why did he do such things to her?

He himself didn't have any answer. He killed her and she's gone now.

There's nothing he could do to make it better.

Ismail's mother looked at the girl, who would up to her with a sparkle of admiration and love in her eyes. Yet she accused the girl she used to call her daughter of such a sin, she raised a finger on her character and didn't turn back. Why didn't she ask her dear daughter if she needed help? Why didn't she reach out to her and ask her for her forgiveness?

Zara sat in the furthest corner away from the body. The body of her beloved bhabi. Why? She thought to herself. WHY didn't I stop Dad? Why didn't I stop bhai? They might have listened to me. I didn't even bother to try and stop them. I just watched. I watched her get hit, get abused in her own home. And I didn't bat an eye! What a terrible sister I am! After all, this could have happened to me.

Usmaan took a seat away from body, and just like Zara in a dark corner. He couldn't belive it his actions lead his sister to her early death.

She still had a lifetime, to laugh, to love, to just simply live and it had all been snatched from her. His sister. Gone. His guriya. His baby sister, the same girl who provided for his mom, made sure she was safe and happy. This was the girl that tried to put this broken family back together but no one heard her pleas. This was the girl that made up with her dad and tended to him during his last days. This girl was both the daughter and the son of both her parents. He never lived up to their love, their expectations, he let them die. He thought they were a burden and if they died it would be easier for him to progress in his life, in his career and in his political career.

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