" Bahar aa ja bacche"
Amir was startled by the words his boss spoke. He tried to make sense of them, but his mind was clouded with confusion. Was there really someone else? He looked around the room to see if he could spot anyone unusual, but there was no one.
Meanwhile, Abbas was frozen in his seat, his mind consumed with fear and uncertainty. He couldn't help but think about his mother, who was lying in a hospital bed, unable to fend for herself. What would happen to her if something were to happen to him?
Abbas couldn't think of anything other than feeling scared. He pondered the uncertain future ahead. Slowly, he lowered his gaze and rose from the table
Tears formed in his eyes. With his young eyes, he glanced upward at the figure standing to his right.
Amir Khan.
In the dimly lit room, the air hung heavy with tension as Abbas cautiously stepped outside. The sight that greeted him was both intimidating and enigmatic. The figures before him seemed to possess an otherworldly aura, casting shadows that danced in the flickering light.
Amir Khan, a man whose presence commanded attention. His stature exuded authority, and his eyes, though stern, revealed a depth of experience and a hint of weariness. A carefully groomed beard framed a face marked by the scars of a tumultuous past, each line telling a story etched in the canvas of his skin.
Amir's attire, a blend of traditional and contemporary. The rich fabric of his kurta contrasted with the starkness of his gaze. His hands, bearing the callouses of countless battles, remained folded as he observed the unfolding scene.
Yet, beneath the veneer of stoicism, there was a flicker of something else - a trace of humanity, perhaps, or a fleeting glimpse of the person behind the formidable reputation. It was a nuance that added complexity to the enigma that was Amir Khan.
Amir was surprised to see a small figure getting out of the table.
Amir's eyes bore questions as he addressed Abbas,
"Bacche, yaha kya kar rahe ho tum?"
[" Child, what are u doing here?"]
Before Abbas could formulate a response,
the figure standing near the window executed a deliberate act, crushing his cigarette. The sharp, echoing noise reverberated through the room, an audible punctuation that heralded a shift in the atmosphere.
Abbas turned his gaze toward the figure near the window,
Arsalan khan,
As Arsalan turned slightly, the play of shadows revealed a glimpse of his profile-a chiseled jawline, a nose that bore the imprint of countless untold stories, and the subtle arch of an eyebrow that spoke of a mind sharp as a blade.
The figure's hands, visible now, bore the weathered testament of a life led on the precipice. Scars, etched into the canvas of his skin, told tales of battles fought in the shadows, battles that forged a man capable of orchestrating both fear and respect.
The crushing of the cigarette, a seemingly mundane act, resonated with a weight that lingered in the room. Every gesture, every nuance in Arsalan's demeanor, was pregnant with unspoken authority. His presence was a tapestry woven with threads of mystery, leaving onlookers entranced and apprehensive.
Arsalan's countenance, as observed by Abbas, bore the marks of a life lived on the precipice. His face, partially veiled in shadows, held a rugged handsomeness-a testament to the trials and tribulations etched into every line and contour. Deep-set eyes, reminiscent of midnight, harbored a mysterious intensity that hinted at a wealth of experiences.
The play of light and darkness revealed the nuances of Arsalan's features-the sharp angles of a jawline that spoke of determination, a nose that carried the subtle history of resilience, and a forehead marked by the gravity of unspoken burdens. His gaze, steady and penetrating, seemed to unravel the fabric of those who dared meet it.
Arsalan's facial hair, meticulously groomed, added to the air of mystery that enveloped him. Each strand seemed to echo the whispers of untold stories, a visual narrative of a life entrenched in the shadows.
As Arsalan approached, Abbas found himself grappling with an unsettling void-a blank canvas where thoughts once resided. The imposing figure before him triggered a memory ingrained in the collective consciousness-a cautionary tale passed down through generations.
In that moment of surreal encounter, Abbas's mind echoed with a maternal refrain-a mother's whispered warning to her child, urging them to sleep before the monster, embodied by Arsalan Khan, emerged to hunt. This wasn't a mere man; he was the embodiment of fear, a specter that haunted the collective imagination.
For the country, Arsalan Khan was a paradoxical figure-an enigma revered and feared in equal measure. The stories, rumors, and myths surrounding him blurred the line between reality and folklore, creating an aura that transcended the mundane.
As Arsalan stood before Abbas, the weight of his reputation manifested in the charged atmosphere. The air crackled with an unspoken understanding-the acknowledgment of standing in the presence of a force that could reshape destinies with a mere inclination.
Suddenly, a resonant knock echoed through the room, disrupting the tense atmosphere. Abbas turned to find the man who had been attempting to apprehend him.
"Khan sa, hamse maaf kare, ye baacha kya bata kese ghus g-"
"Nikalo."
The command from Arsalan Khan cut through the man's explanation, leaving him shocked but obedient. "Ji, Khan sa," he uttered with a mix of surprise and resentment, shooting a glare at the kid before making a hasty exit. Abbas sighed in relief and turned around, ready to clarify the purpose of his unexpected presence.
However, as he pivoted, he was met with the towering figure of Arsalan Khan, standing at an imposing 6.4 feet, with Amir Khan, a formidable 6.2 feet, positioned behind him. The sight left Abbas speechless, his words momentarily escaping him.
Arsalan Khan, undeterred by the silence, knelt down to bring himself to the boy's eye level. His voice, once soft, now carried a steely edge as he inquired,
"Kya kaam hai tumhara yaha?"
Abbas, grappling with the unexpected turn of events, stammered in response,
"Main... main yaha... uh, I didn't mean to-"
Arsalan's penetrating gaze bore into Abbas, cutting through any feeble attempts at explanation.
"Kisne bheja tumhe yaha?"
Arsalan Khan's voice grew harsh, his patience wearing thin. Abbas, attempting to articulate a response, faltered under the intense scrutiny. The boy, gripped by fear, realized the truth in the rumors that encountering Arsalan Khan was akin to one's soul departing the body.
Amir, observing the child's terror, interjected,
"Bhaijaan bachan Dara hai"
["Brother, he's scared."]
However, Arsalan Khan remained unmoved by the plea.
Collecting himself, Abbas resolved to convey his message.
" M-uj-he nh-i pata v-ho ko-n hai, us-ne bs ye-hi bo-la tha ki aa-p-pko b-atau , N-eto vho m-eri m-ma-ma ko m-aar dega"
["I don't know who he was, but he told me to deliver this message to you, or he'll kill my mother."]
His voice trembled, echoing the genuine fear he harbored.
Arsalan, discerning the boy's distress, sighed and softened his gaze.
" Kuch nhi hoga Teri maa ko"
["Nothing will happen to your mother,"] he assured, attempting to provide reassurance.
Emboldened, Abbas continued,
"V-ho a-apke s-are ja-nka-ri ki-si ba-har W-ale k-o dene w-ale h-ai taki a-ap ja-il ka sa-ke"
["He's going to send all your information to someone higher so that you can go to jail."]
The words, spoken in a broken tone, hung in the air. It took a moment for Arsalan to grasp the gravity of the situation.
"Kon?"
he demanded in a dark, foreboding voice.
"Ahmed Ali."
The name lingered in the room, heavy with implications.
_________________
In the confines of Ahmed Ali's office, frustration and agitation permeated the air.
"But just why? Why do we need to invest him too?. ----- ik ik but - I know it's our politics meeting but-- "
"Okay sir I'll send a invite to him, yes sir. Khuda Hafiz!."
Ahmed cut the call aggressively
"Why should we extend an invitation to him as well?"
Ahmed muttered, wrestling with conflicting sentiments.
His assistant, Bilal ,cognizant of the delicate situation, cautiously suggested, "Sir, should I send him an invitation?"
"SHUT THE F- UP! THAT MAN IS NOT SETTING FOOT IN MY HOUSE," Ahmed erupted, quashing any further discussion.
"But sir-" the assistant tried to reason.
"That's final, Bilal. If anyone inquires, simply inform them that the esteemed Arsalan Khan politely declined the invitation," Ahmed declared with stern finality.
Ahmed said and turn towards the window.
"Never will I let any of this khans take a step in my land again" he thought
As Ahmed stared out of the window, raindrops tracing intricate patterns, his mind wandered to Nora. She was out there, dancing in the rain, a vivid contrast to the complexities he grappled with.
"What am I to do with this child of mine?"
he pondered, acknowledging the challenges of safeguarding Nora in a world fraught with uncertainties.
In the quiet solitude of his thoughts, Ahmed Ali grappled with the perennial dilemma that haunted his paternal instincts. As he gazed out of the window, the rhythmic tap of raindrops seemed to echo the cadence of his contemplations.
"I wish I was an ordering man"
he ruminated, the yearning evident in his eyes.
"To rest with the conviction that nothing would harm her-Nora."
The desire for an ordinary life, shielded from the convoluted web of alliances and enmities, tugged at Ahmed's heart. In the simplicity of normalcy, he envisioned a life where his daughter could thrive without the shadows of their tumultuous world darkening her doorstep.
Yet, the weight of
his gaze fixated on the rain-kissed world beyond. The longing in his eyes betrayed a desire for a life free from the complexities that entangled him, a life where the safety of his beloved daughter, Nora, wasn't a perpetual concern.
The rain, usually a source of solace for Nora, danced in delicate patterns, reflecting the innocence that Ahmed cherished in her. In these moments, he yearned for a world where such simplicity could be the norm, shielding his daughter from the harsh realities that cast shadows over their lives.
Observing Nora's carefree dance in the rain stirred a mix of emotions within him. Despite his stoic exterior, Ahmed cherished these moments of innocence. However, the harsh realities of their world loomed large in his thoughts.
Checking the time, he decided it was time to beckon her inside. Shouting from the window, he called,
"Nora, bachay, andar chalo abhi!"
Yet Nora, headstrong and spirited, responded,
"Baba, bas 5 minutes."
Ahmed chuckled at her determination, recognizing the simple joy she derived from the rain.
"Just how much this girl loves rain".
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Word counts: 2,279
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Hello loves.
So sorry for the late updates.
My boards are just around the corners so I'm not sure I'll be that much active rn.
But I'll try my best to make an update for you guys if you support me!.
Like comeon every chapter has around 100+ reads and vote is some 18? 19?.
So comeon vote and comment and if this chapter gets more votes and comments I'll make 2 updates I'm not kidding I have already prepared chapter 7th.
So it's in your hand.
Anyways enjoy your chapter.
See you
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