Chapter 22: Her Story
With a pale and colorless face, she entered her cabin, running her fingers through her hair. Her eyes were wide, as if she had seen a ghost. Her face had lost all color—pale? No, it had turned white. Her ears were ringing. Danger bells went off in her mind. She felt as if she was walking toward her death. Breathing was becoming difficult.
A one-night stand?
She couldn't believe her ears. Did she hear him right? Did he actually ask for that? Did he really?
She had never expected that proposition from him, not even in her wildest dreams. He was so right, so accurate when he warned her to think before she spoke.
She raised her hands and looked at them, trying to decipher the lines of her fate. What had life stored for her? She had never thought a moment like this would come in her life. She had never been in a relationship. A man had never touched her. She was inexperienced in this department. Yet still, he made such an offer to her. Such an offer that made the ground slip from beneath her feet, stole her breath, made her feel weak, worthless, and cheap.
Rafay was nothing.
Rafay was nothing.
His mere proposition did more damage to her than what Rafay had done to her.
What did that vile man think of her? Who was she? Who was she?! A prostitute?
A slut?
What did he take her as?
How dare he think of her like that?
How dare he even say something so disgusting in front of her and to her?
How could he even have the audacity to ask something so sickening of her?
She had never sent him any kind of signal; then how could he ask something like that from her?
How could he?
How could he?!
Tears flowed down her face, but she didn't want to cry. Yet, she felt too vulnerable, too emotional, heartbroken.
Her heart was crushed into pieces. She felt like she was a characterless woman, someone to whom anyone could ask to spend a night with.
Her chest burned with pain and revolt, making her take deep breaths.
His words kept ringing in her ears.
"I want a one-night stand with you."
It was all sickening to her. Sickening to the core.
That day, she went home early. Amna had already noticed something was wrong. She kept asking Sheharzaad, but Sheharzaad always changed the topic.
She couldn't tell Amna because Amna already felt as if she was a burden to her. Though they didn't share any blood relation, they both loved and cared for each other deeply. Their bond was no less than a sibling’s. They were both alone in the world.
Amna had been raised by her grandmother. Both her maternal and paternal families had died long ago while migrating during partition. Her mother and maternal grandmother made it to Pakistan, but sadly, her maternal grandmother died before entrusting her mother to the care of her paternal grandmother, as they both knew each other.
Then her grandmother had arranged her parents' marriage. Amna was their only child, yet she remembered them vaguely. Her parents were not on good terms, and her father used to beat her mother. One day, her mother killed her father before committing suicide.
It was the sad story of her family.
After her grandmother's natural death, Amna met Sheharzaad, whose story she found even sadder than her own.
Sheharzaad had almost the same family history as hers. Her parents were also only children, and she too was an only child. She didn’t know of any distant relatives. The three of them had lived happily. Apparently, her parents didn’t have any enmity with anyone. They were loving, caring, and supportive. Her parents had deep love and respect for each other.
One cold winter night, the door of their house was knocked. Upon opening the door, her parents found a girl in a disheveled state. Her whole body was shivering, her clothes were ragged, her wrists bore marks of handcuffs. She was wailing and crying, asking for help while vigilantly watching her surroundings, as if someone was following her.
Her parents let the woman in. The woman’s name was Sheila. She told them her story: she had been kidnapped by a group of men while on a walk and had just managed to escape. She begged Sheharzaad’s family to provide her shelter until she could find a way out.
Sheharzaad’s father decided to call the police, but Sheila began to cry loudly, saying the people after her were powerful. Even the police worked under them. If he made the call, not only she but her family would also be in danger.
Her mother requested her father to let Sheila stay, and as her father was a lawyer, he decided to take Sheila's case and collect evidence. Her father was just like her. Helpful. He could never see injustice and oppression happening around her. That was not just the case with her father only. Her mother was like that too. She supported her father in Sheila's case.
Within a week of Sheila’s arrival at their home, Sheharzaad noticed her parents becoming stressed. One day, the three went somewhere and never came back. What returned were her parents’ dead bodies. Sheila was nowhere to be found. They had been in a severe accident, and both succumbed to major head injuries.
No distant relatives attended her parents' funeral, as her parents hadn't known them either. Only the neighbors gathered. They shared the rumor that Sheila was involved in her parents' murder. Her parents had received threats after taking Sheila in. The people pursuing Sheila had also killed her parents. She still rememebered the day vividly when her parents walked out of the house for the last time.
After her parents' funeral, she moved to Islamabad, where she met Amna. Their bond grew stronger and stronger. Amna had her grandmother’s house in Lahore, where they both currently lived.