Risen from dust

Fifty One

Word reached Khalifa that Harris had finally reunited with his daughter. To Khalifa, this presented a golden opportunity to reclaim Noor. While dealing with Zaviyaar proved challenging, Harris seemed like a more manageable target-a middle-aged man, perhaps vulnerable to Khalifa's schemes. In Khalifa's eyes, Noor wasn't just a person but a means to escape the burden of his debts, a ticket to financial freedom. The prospect of exploiting this situation fueled Khalifa's determination to seize this opportunity and pursue his sinister agenda.

As Noor walked away, Zaviyaar felt this deep ache in his chest, like a part of him was missing. The questions crowded his thoughts, simple yet profound. Would she come back? Would she miss him like he missed her? Did she still need him with her family around?

As Zaviyaar found himself lost in contemplation, his mother revelled in the fact that she didn't have to lift a finger to remove Noor from their lives. Fate had seemingly intervened, and Noor had departed on her own accord. Mehnaz had persistently urged Haneen Begum to dismiss Noor, but her requests had fallen on deaf ears.

"Finally, we got rid of the filth. She was after my golden boy. She's not even equal to the dust on your feet, Zavi. Count your blessings that she's gone. I don't understand why you were infatuated with a maid," Mehnaz remarked, wearing a smug expression.

"I am nothing compared to her, Mama. I wish I could even be a percentage of the person she is," Zaviyaar responded, his words carrying a tone of admiration for Noor that clashed with his mother's disdain.

Mehnaz scoffed dismissively, unwilling to entertain the notion that Noor could be anything more than a mere maid. "Well, your father and I are just relieved that she's no longer under this roof. You'll see that life will be much better without her complicating things."

Zaviyaar, however, couldn't shake the memory of the genuine moments he shared with Noor, transcending the social divide his mother emphasized. "Mama, she brought something different to this house. Something real. I can't just dismiss that. All you bring me are plastic and fake, women."

Mehnaz rolled her eyes, "Real or not, she was just a distraction. You have responsibilities, Zavi. You're not supposed to be entangled with people like her. Oh, please! At one point in your life, you were obsessed with these fake women."

Zaviyaar, frustrated by his mother's lack of understanding, countered, "Maybe that's the problem, Mama. I'm tired of the plastic, fake relationships. Noor showed me authenticity, and I can't ignore that. I won't pretend anymore."

Ibrahim, overhearing the heated conversation between his wife and son, interjected sternly, "Zaviyaar! The moment you involve yourself in any relations with Noor, I will cut you off. No money, no property, no luxuries will be given to you."

Zaviyaar, now caught in the crossfire of familial expectations and personal convictions, sighed deeply. "Baba, it's not about the luxuries or the money. It's about something real. Something that matters."

Mehnaz, indignant, added fuel to the fire. "You dare defy your father's wishes for a maid? Have some sense, Zaviyaar!"

The air thickened with tension as the generational clash of values and priorities played out within the walls of their home. The repercussions of Zaviyaar's choices seemed to extend beyond matters of the heart, delving into the complex realm of family legacy and expectations.

"I don't care. I am leaving. You both are suffocating me," Zaviyaar declared with frustration etched on his face. With that, he snatched his bike keys and stormed out.

The revving engine echoed in the tense atmosphere as Zaviyaar rode away, leaving behind the unresolved conflicts.

Noor, on the other hand, was still processing the newfound reality that she had a family - a father, two grandmothers, uncles, cousins. Mr. Harris shared stories that felt like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. The car suddenly came to a halt at a hospital, and Harris turned to Noor.