Chapter 141: Panic Attacks

"No! No! Please no! Don't tell him anything," She vigorously shook her head and stood up,

turning towards the make-up artist, the shock in her eyes transforming to pleas, "Don't tell

him anything."

All the color from her face had flown away as her hand rested on her heart, which began to

palpitate wildly at the mention of apprising him.

"Don't worry. We won't. Shabaash ab aap baith jayein aur aansu saaf kar lain," The

beautician suggested and she obediently nodded her head and immediately sat down.

(Now please sit down and clean your tears)

She cleaned her tears with both her hands as the make-up artist started doing her work, and

Sheharzaad stared at her face in the mirror, which was being painted with different colors

and shades.

But for whom?

It was the first time she wasn't dressing up for herself but for someone else. So her look and

attire could please him. Her face could please him.

The beautician was applying heavy and dark shades to her smooth complexion, and it began

to suddenly remind her of her identity—who she was now.

She was making her look like a mistress...

Her eyes were fixed on the reflection that was staring back at her.

Her cheekbones had protruded, her face had gotten thinner, defining her features. She was

left skin to bone almost. Momentarily, her eyes landed on her wrists. They still had red

marks and cuts.

She couldn't believe that it was the same Sheharzaad staring back at her.

No.

The person in the mirror was not her.

It was someone else.

But her eyes...

Her eyes were so similar to hers.

Diamond grey eyes.

No, they were not the same eyes...

Those diamonds... they used to shine. And there were not even remnants of any shine in

those diamonds.

It wasn't her.

But that face belonged to Sheharzaad?

Those features belonged to Sheharzaad...

Is that my face?

She asked herself.

And when the make-up artist applied kohl to her eyes, Sheharzaad tilted her face to the

right and looked at her, whose face was caked with make-up. Hair strands falling every now

and then out of her messy bun and lips, painted with a maroon matte that she bit, implying

her concentration towards her work.

With her peripheral view, Sheharzaad was staring at the mirror too, and to her horror, the

girl in the mirror also had her face tilted. A sharp pain shot up in the tip of her nose, and her

eyes became glossy again.

She wanted to touch her face. To feel that it was the same face. It was her face. Which was

always adored.

Because of which arrogance was born in her... resulting in that incident.

The same face where everybody's eyes would stay twice, thrice, and so on just to absorb her

features in their eyes.

She wanted to touch it to deny the truth, to make herself believe that her reflection wasn't

her reflection. It was someone else.

That woman in the mirror wasn't Sheharzaad.

She moved her hand up, but for a moment, she thought the chains wouldn't let her hands

move up, but to her surprise, her hand did move up and she was able to touch her cheeks.

This was her.

Her suspicion was right.

That was her... now.

A new Sheharzaad.

Weak. Desperate. Vulnerable.

And traumatic.

She wondered, how long was she kept there?

A week?

Maybe.

A month?

Maybe.

A year?

Yes.... it has been a year.

She thought to herself. The world looked changed to her. Everything was different. It wasn't

the same world as she had left.

It was different.

Everything was different.

The air.

The sky.

The surrounding.

Sun. Moon. Everything.

In this world, she would thank God whenever she could hear birds, whenever she could see

the brightened-up sky and a sky full of stars and moon. She would thank God whenever she

was able to move her hands without any restriction. She was able to walk. She was able to

breathe freely. Sleep freely. And the chains wouldn't grasp her feet like a snake when she

would move her feet while walking or while sleeping. There was light in this world. It

wasn't dark, all the time.

It felt like a decade had passed.

Her past life was nothing but déjà vu for her now.

"Do I... look weak?" Sheharzaad asked.

The beautician smiled at her and applied mascara to her eyes, raising her already curled

lashes.

"Umm... yes madam. A little."

"Do I... look ugly?"

"No madam. You are still very pretty, MashAllah."

"What is your name?"

"Amna," the beautician replied.

Amna...

She wondered where Amna was now.

Dead?

Alive? Then where?

She was going through her chemotherapeutic sessions.

Were they still giving her the required treatment?

Was she in good health?

Was she recovering?

Or had her health deteriorated more?

Ahmed Bhai?

Where was he?

Did they kill him?

Kill...

Hannan...

He killed him...

No!

She killed him.

'I killed Hannan,'

The gunshot reverberated in her ears and she suddenly placed both her hands on her ears,

taking Amna by surprise.

"What happened?" Amna frowned and stopped doing her work.

Sheharzaad's face began to shake as her eyes widened, and she tightly pressed her palm

against her ears.

"Meainay...meinay kisi ka qatal nahi kiya... meinay kisi ki jaan nahi li," She began to blabber

before removing her hands from her ears and staring at them.

(I haven't killed anyone. I haven't taken anyone's life)

Blood spots.

She could see blood spots on her hands.

"Nahi!" She began to scream, "Nahi! Nahi!"

(No! No!)

Her eyes rounded with horror when she moved her head up from her hand and looked in

the mirror. She stood up and focused her eyes in the mirror more, narrowing them, and to

her horror, she saw Khaleda's dead body hanging from the ceiling, and her brain ceased to

function then. She let out an ear-piercing scream and covered her ears with her hands.

"Lei jao! Isko dafnao! Isko lei jao! Lei jao!" She shouted, closing her eyes, "Meinay kisi ka

qatal nahi kiya. Meinay kisi ki jaan nahi li. Woh abhi bhi zinda hai. Woh-woh mara nahi hai!"

She screamed, trying to assure herself.

(Take her! Take her away! Give her a burial! I haven't killed anyone! He isn't dead yet! He is

alive! I did not kill anyone!)

"Help! Please help!" The make-up artist went outside the room, looking for someone,

meanwhile, Sheharzaad kept on screaming.

She opened her eyes again and was still able to see Khaleda hanging from the ceiling.

"Meinay kisi ki jaan nahi li! Khaleda ko dafna dou! Lei jao!" She kept on screaming, filling the

hallway with her screams.

(I did not take anyone's life! Please bury Khaleda. Take her away)

The door to her room suddenly opened and her eyes darted towards it.

He stood in front of her, making her heart beat go wild.

Shehryaar.