•𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐚𝐛| ✓

𝐎𝐧𝐞 || 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉

The weather unfolded its splendor today in Mirpurkhas, nestled within the province of Sindh. This city, the 16th largest in Sindh with a population of 233,916, was graced with exceptional beauty. Rain had delicately graced the city, leaving the roads adorned with glistening wetness. The fragrance of petrichor gracefully dominated the air, creating an atmosphere so tranquil that inhaling it felt like sipping serenity.

In one of the most affluent corners of Mirpurkhas, where the Abbasi residence commanded its presence, a young woman paced within the confines of her home's baramda. Eventually, she settled down with a huff, tapping her khussa-clad feet on the floor, her lips forming a subtle pout. Her parents were expected to return after a week spent with her phuppo, a hiatus that coincided with her 10th board exams.

An hour had passed since her mother's call, signaling their imminent arrival. Yet, their home remained void of their presence. Anxiously glancing at the main door, she found herself on the brink of worry. Silently, she uttered prayers for her parents' safety and swift return. Seated on the diwan, she anxiously awaited their arrival, with the door becoming a focal point of her increasing apprehension.

Suddenly, a knock echoed through the dwelling, jolting her from her thoughts. With a smile, she approached the door, anticipating her parents' return. However, she was met with unfamiliar faces as strangers entered her home, bearing a disconcerting cargo. "Riaz Ali Abbasi ka ghar hai na?" inquired one of the men. She merely nodded, perplexed by their unexpected visit.

(This is Riaz Ali Abbasi's home?)

Without awaiting permission, they boldly infiltrated her home, leaving her astonished by their audacity. Observing them carrying two white, body bag-like parcels, her breath hitched. Placing these ominous packages in the living room intensified her anxiety.

"Ye kya kar rahe hain ap log?" All the while, the household servants had joined her in the living room. "Mere bache... Hum highway par they... Jab bhot bura... accident hua..." The man began sharing the grim details with considerable difficulty.

(What are you all doing?)
(Kid, we were on the highway...when there was a tragic accident)

"Is se hamare kya wasta hai uncle?" Rubaab queried, noticing one of the white bags on the floor. "Ye tumhare baba hain shayad bacha." With a few minutes of contemplation, she sat beside the white bag. Anxiety, thumping hearts, and continuous prayers consumed her; with trembling hands, she opened one of the bags, only for a heart-wrenching scream to escape her lips. She crumpled to the floor, clutching the lifeless hand of Riaz Abbasi.

(What do we have to do with this uncle?)
(That man...is your father we guess)

The maids opened the other bag, and Rubaab moved toward it, now cradling her mother's face in her hands. "A-ammi... a-ammi" she sobbed, pleading for her parents to wake up. Could her parents truly have departed so abruptly? Moments ago, they were fine! She had conversed with them! She had teased them, for Allah's sake!

(M-mama...pa-papa please wake up)

Beside her parents, she continued to cry, her world reduced to the sorrowful scene before her. No one but these two people mattered to her. Her chachu and chachi were vixenish and avaricious figures, unlikely to take her in. Even if they did, they'd be devilish guardians. Her innocent mind harbored an unfavorable image of these relatives, etched by their manipulative influence. She was but a girl molded by their designs, unable to comprehend without their guidance.

Suddenly, recollections of the people her parents had visited flashed in her mind. Trembling, she rose from her position, holding onto the Diwan. Heading toward the telephone, she dialed the number, attempting to steady her breath amid the sobs, which were now audible to anyone on the line.