A hundred silent ways

Chapter 8

● 3 Years Ago ●

-Almas and Qasim Wedding-

"How long will it take more?" Zaman received a text.

It was Ibrahim, his eldest brother. He had texted him because they were in a family wedding except Zaman. And their mother, Rubeena wanted him there in the marquee as soon as possible.

"Are you coming?" His phone pinged with Ibrahim's text.

Zaman sighed, picking up his phone from the large wide table that laid before him. He swiped his phone screen and replied, "I sure don't have speed of light. It will take a few moments to reach."

He switched his phone off, there was a frown on his temple as his thumb rubbed his eyebrows. He was solving a case and to some extent he had reached the depth but now all thanks to Ibrahim who chimed in and ruined all the efforts. Now Zaman sat, with nothing in his head in particular. His mind was empty. No notions clasped anymore.

He growled and tried to rethink but nothing popped up in his brain. He felt his stomach hollow and rebel at the same time. He knew his brain needed quick glucose to work so he should get something for himself.

But he ignored this thought completely. He gathered several papers spread before him on table and piled them together in his hand, tucking in a few that were not in correspondence. He placed them aside and shut his mac down. He picked up his mug to finish the remaining coffee, gazing the round brown mark, mug have left behind, over the brim.

He leaned back in the swivel chair, taking off his glasses and tossing them on the table. He got up placing the empty mug back and disappeared in the washroom.

There was a fire in him, a fire that blowed up every time he thought of the rapped girl. He closed his eyes as he took a sharp breath in, water running down his shoulder blades.

All the images of when he had rescued that 11 years old girl flashed before him. Her condition, her little bruised body, her passed out being that looked so lifeless, everything was letting him not sleep.

She was still in ICU, fighting for her life. Her condition was critical. How could these animals do this to this little angel, Nimra.

He came out, wrapped in towel. His breath was raged as he stood before his mirror, blowing his hair. His eyes had a venom and his chest contained a fire that he knew wouldn't tame away, not before he has a taste of his rival's sour blood.

***

Zaman was tired so driver drove him to the respectable place where wedding of his distant cousin, Qasim, was taking place.  He opened the backseat door and got out, nodding at the driver. Driver drove the car away.

He went in the large marquee from where the loud Bollywood music could be heard. Inside there were a lot of people, all variety could be seen from few months old child to an old lady. He sighed, if it wasn't for his mother he would never had come. He hated gatherings.

For a few seconds, he stood there gazing people. His eyes fell on a girl that was dressed in a red frock. It was a plain frock with its neck way too deep and it was even deeper when she bent down to set the strap of her heels, her curls falling forward. He looked away instantly and his gaze landed on bunch of men seated on a table, who were ogling her so lustfully.

Is this even Peshawar?, Zaman thought to himself. When did it happen that men turned so hungry that they couldn't even let go a little girl let alone a fully grown one.