Jageer-e-Mohabbat - جاگیرِ محبت
In the heart of rural Pakistan, amidst the opulent estates of feudal lords, there existed a tale of love and enmity that defied societal norms. At the center of this story were two individuals whose initial animosity...
After the twins' visit, the night was unnaturally still, a heavy silence hanging in the air. In the dimly lit veranda of their house, Mehmood Afzal stood with his daughter, Sitara. His face was etched with lines of worry and exhaustion, his mind racing with the implications of the day's events.
"Curse that boy!" Mehmood spat, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and despair toward his son Murtaza. "What has he gotten us into? Why couldn't he just leave us well enough alone?"
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(^ Sitara Afzal)
Sitara, standing beside her father, felt the weight of his words and the helplessness of their situation. Just then, her father's body convulsed with a violent cough, a harsh and rattling sound that seemed to come from deep within his chest.
"Abbu!" she exclaimed, panic rising in her voice. "Hold on, I'll get you some water."
She hurried inside the house, her footsteps echoing in the quiet night. She made her way to the matka, a large earthenware pot filled with water, and quickly filled a cup. As she rushed back to the veranda, her heart pounded with dread.
When she returned, she found her father had collapsed on the veranda floor, his body limp and unresponsive. The cup slipped from her fingers, shattering on the ground, water splashing everywhere.
"Abbu!" Sitara screamed, falling to her knees beside him. "No, no, no!"
In her desperation, she called out to the neighbors, her voice piercing the night air. "Help! Someone, please help us!"
Within moments, neighbors began to appear, drawn by her frantic cries. Together, they lifted Mehmood and carried him to a nearby rickshaw. Sitara climbed in beside her father, holding his hand tightly as they sped towards the hospital.
The ride felt interminable, every bump and jolt of the road intensifying her fear. She prayed silently, her heart pleading for her father's safety.
At the hospital, they rushed Mehmood inside, the medical staff springing into action. Sitara stood in the waiting area, her hands clasped tightly together, tears streaming down her face.
"Please, Allah," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please save my father."
As the minutes ticked by, each one felt like an eternity. She couldn't shake the image of her father's collapse, the sheer helplessness she had felt. The visit from the twins had thrown their world into chaos, and now, as she waited for news, the uncertainty of their future loomed over her like a dark cloud.
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MIRANI HAVELI
The next morning, the grand entrance of the Mirani Haveli was once again a scene of tension. The early light cast long shadows across the opulent hall, a silent witness to the unfolding drama. As the heavy wooden doors creaked open, Armaghan and Sher Ali, two formidable figures, stepped into the lavish interior. Their faces were set with determination, and they carried an air of urgency.
