Bint of Gilgit ~ Pakistani Love Story ~ ONGOING ~

Release

The stench of blood overpowered her senses; the rusty metallic smell sweeping her five years into the past where she was being forced under the rock. 

"I don't want to hide, Baba!" The fifteen-year-old Nazli had said, her wide green eyes overlooking her father's shoulder to the black limousine that was turning the corner. "What's that, Baba? Is that a car?" 

Her father's blue eyes had widened and his normally rosy cheeks paled with a horror Nazli had seldom seen before. "Get under the rock, Nazli! Promise me . . . you won't make a sound! No matter what happens, you will not make a sound!"

"But why?" She cried, stomping her feet angrily as her mother shoved her in the shade of the huge stone. When her mother dug her nails in Nazli's shoulder, she winced. "Mama, you're hurting me! Why are you being like this?" 

But her mother's once soft touch was cold and distant. Her identical green eyes, however were swimming with so much affection that Nazli began to feel tears choking her throat. "Remember, Nazli. Not a sound. You promised." 

Then she was gone - her parents merely a few steps away facing a group of dozen men. They held hands and stood in front of her in such a way that she remained protected from those who would slaughter her life givers. 

Even after the massacre had been done and the men had been long gone, she could not move from under the rock. The stench of blood . . . was overpowering. But she had kept her promise . . . she had not made a sound. 

"No!"

Asadullah paused in pressing his finger on the trigger; the sweat drenched face of Shah Zaman merely seconds away from becoming a bloody mess. But he had been saved by a strangled sound . . . a sound filled with enormous anguish, but a strange hollowness too that erupted goosebumps on his neck. 

The widening of his trusted friend Imad's eyes and the dropping of Shah Zaman's jaw was enough to tell him what had happened. The impossible . . . had happened. 

"Don't . . . h-h-h-urt m-my unc-le!" Before he had even swung around to confirm what he was hearing, there was a distinct click. The sound was so familiar to his ears that his heart had stopped jumping - assassination attempts on his life had engrained in him a welcome lack of fear.

But perhaps this was the first time in many years that a twinge of misery tripped his heart. He knew why people would turn to the gun for aid - either when there was extreme hatred or the last resort for survival. In her erupting emerald eyes, he detected the former - pure, black . . . hatred. 

"Put down the gun." The authority and the calm took over him again. He was the leader of the Black Panther Mafias and this woman's husband. Not to mention, his right shoulder had received an extra bone in it courtesy of her uncle in his quest to save her life. "I saved your life didn't I, Nazli? Your despicable uncle had a full plan to send you six feet under." 

Her eyes widened with betrayal as she looked over his shoulder - no doubt towards her beloved uncle. But just as quickly and frighteningly, they softed into understanding. He stepped closer to her with caution, his heartbeat picking up with a strange trepidation. She couldn't be this foolish . . .no, she wouldn't do something this reckless. 

But once again, he was proven wrong. In the last few days, so much uncertainty had become normalized in his life. Nazli was that uncertainty - she did not fit into his life like others despite all his attempts, but perhaps . . . he was desperate to fit in her life like no other. 

Before the pistol even reached her temple, Fahad had thrown Nazli's snivelling cousin aside and grabbed her from behind. A possessive rage overtook Asadullah's senses when she struggled in his cousin's arms, but the sense of relief was greater. Just this once, he would overlook an instance of another man touching what was his.