Sadqay Tumharey (18+) | Completed ✔️

Chapter 12

Warning: This chapter may contain sexual content.

And it's unedited (you might cringe at some parts).

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Abraar Khan, a messiah to his people, truly cared for them. He had no family of his own, the villagers stood for him, loved and looked up to him. Rabiah the widow, was almost like a mother to him. His people were his to protect, the village was their home, and he wouldn't let anyone take that away from them. He couldn't let them down, Mirs were like ticking bombs. Although he was the one who had begun the game, they had tried countless times to raid the village. To take advantage of the villager's vulnerability, Abraar Khan had two hundred people to protect.

Two hundred people depended on him, and he couldn't let them down.

He played with the ring in his hand, the one his father had given to Miraal. Now standing in the graveyard he couldn't help but question his father, it was dark almost midnight, but he didn't care about the time as he sat near the grave and softy questioned his father.

"Kyun Abbu? Kyu?" He uttered silently under his breath, the wind caressed his face making his flick fall on his forehead. His eyes were red, the pain in his words, in his heart evident.

He had never felt this guilty, she hadn't thought twice before saying yes to his proposal. She trusted him, respected him for being a people's man, for being a kind-hearted soul.

She loved him...

He was using her to lure the Mirs into his trap, the ring that his father had given her, he had taken it away. Saira didn't deserve to wear his mother's ring, hell she didn't deserve to marry him.

But Miraal had no idea that she was Saira, that she was the daughter of the man he hated.

"Aap chahtey they na k mai badla lu, ke m Mir ki puri nasl khatam kardu. Mai karunga, Saira ko mere naam ki anghoti pehnakar shayad aap meri madad karna chahtey they... so that I can use her to reach the Mirs", he whispered the fire in his eyes burned as he stood up patting the mud away from his pant.

He made up his mind, he made his choice. Choosing his revenge, his maqsad that his father had infused within him. He was Khan first, the messiah of his people and the mafia for the Mirs.

He sat in the car and started travelling making his way through the empty roads now devising a plan. At the early dawn, he reached Sultana's abode, and the woman welcomed him merrily.

"Kitne arse baad mere ghar aaye ho, Chai Parantha khaaney aaye hona?" Sultana asked with a motherly smile on her face, he nodded his head with a warm smile of his own as he took a seat.

As a kid whenever Mukhtar Khan went for a panchayat meeting, he would drop Abraar at Sultana's house. Abraar loved to play hide and seek in her small house and enjoy the food made by her, he loved how she pampered him. At one point he had started calling her Ammi like her daughters did but eventually, he realised she couldn't be his mother. She was tender and loving, but he could never experience the love of his mother like the kids his age did.

"Murtu", Sultana called him suddenly making his ears perk up, the name his mother called him with.

"Lassi lega kya?" She asked, he nodded his eyes casting down as he relived through the trauma. His hands quivered as Sultana placed the plate on the table and joined him. He sat there unmoving making her sigh, "Mai khilau kya bachpan ki tarah?"

He looked up and laughed, "Mai khaalunga... tab bohot chota tha mai. Aur kamzor"

He had stopped eating after his mother had passed away, Mukhtar Khan had grown tired of his tantrums so he had left him at Sultana's house for a few days as he grieved.