Unveiled Betrayal
There was a guy involved.
We were fearing telling you this.
Hannan.
She... she had been working with him.
Since the first day.
Actually... it was regarding the sale of her house.
We tapped her phone. No records were found. She was aware that her phone might be
tapped, so she used her friend's phone.
Yes. At times, PCOs. Men who were stationed to follow her kept on sending me reports.
Hannan.
Out of all the information he had received, only one word managed to stay in his mind.
Hannan.
She was with him.
She had been with him.
Wonder how far and deep their relationship could have gone?
Was it just help? Or was it something else?
The speculations began to rise in his mind.
While coming back to her house, he had received a call from Murad, one of his workers,
informing him that everything was ready at Sheharzaad's house. Sensing his hesitance on
the phone, he asked Murad what was going on, and then he told him one of the plot twists
that Shehryaar had not been expecting.
This story not just had the intelligence agencies involved behind the curtain but also one of
the boys at his office with whom Sheharzaad had once gone out. The same boy he had
forbidden her to go with. She had been building plots behind his back with the same guy.
He couldn't believe it. Out of all the things she did, it was the most unbelievable. He almost
scoffed at this thought. After all, she was a woman. And women were meant to backstab. He
did not call them sluts for no reason.
Being committed to him and at the same time being involved with that guy makes the
woman, who was bound with chains in front of him, a slut. He thought she was different, but
just like every other woman he came across, she was no different. She was romantically
involved with Hannan. And that made him wonder how deep their meetings would have
been. How far they must have gone? Had she kissed him too? All these questions in his mind
were increasing the rage within him, and it was becoming unbearable. He wanted to twist
her neck, snap and break it. But still, that would not relieve the restlessness and the fire in
his heart. Rather, he wanted to burn her alive. Skin her alive. So that she could feel the pain
and beg for forgiveness. And despite her beggings, he would still not forgive her.
She turned out exactly opposite of what he expected her to be. He thought she was dumb by
making schemes behind his back and planning to run. But he did not think that she would
be this dumb to be involved with another guy while being with him.
And this reminded him of the woman whom the world called his mother. He hated women
because of her. And the one woman he thought of making a part of his life turned out to be
exactly like his mother.
His eyes had landed on her sleeping form, and that steely look that captured the grey in
them was enough to bring a shiver down the spine of anyone who could have managed to
witness it.
And his eyes were still manifesting that similar steely look while staring at her unconscious
state in one of his cells.
She was bound to the chair, her head had been hanging to her right, eyes closed, blood
marks on the side of her head where he had hit the barrel of his gun just to send her into a
state of unconsciousness. Her lips parted and cheek imprinted with the marks of his fingers.
Sprawling his legs, with one hand he held the cigarette as he kept on staring at her without a
blink.
"Khan," he called one of his men who stood nearby.
"Yes, sir," he said while bowing down.
"Wake her up," he ordered and pointed towards her.
"Okay, sir," the man replied and scurried away quickly. Within seconds, he came back
holding water and began to sprinkle droplets on her face. Her eyelids flinched as she slowly
fluttered open her eyes. He flicked his finger ordering that man to go, and he left, leaving her
alone with him.
It took her around a minute and a half to gain complete consciousness as the feeling of
drifting in and out of consciousness subsided.
Her half-hooded eyes got erect open when they landed on Shehryaar, who was sitting there.
Calm and composed. Observing her. One look around the area and she found herself alone
with him.
"Did you—did you take him to the hospital?" she asked, and at this, his eyebrows raised up.
He didn't answer, rather placed the cigar between his lips and then puffed the smoke out of
his mouth.
Quiet.
Utterly quiet.
"Did you?!" she shouted and began to wriggle her hands against the chains that bound her.
"No," he simply replied and again placed the stick between his lips, puffing out smoke.
"Oh my God! Hannan. Please take him to the hospital. He does not have any fault," she began
to explain. His bloodied body began to run in her mind.
"And Amna... where is Amna?" she began to ask anxiously, looking around. "Let her go. She
—she is sick."
He clicked his tongue and pointed at her with both the fingers that held the cigarette. "This
is where your mistake lies," he uttered. "You are worrying about others when right now you
should worry about yourself."
Worry about yourself...
His words trailed in her mind as she began to think of what he could do to her. The
anticipation, the anxiety clicking in.
She took in a few deep breaths to calm herself down. What was done, was done now. There
was no going back. He was now aware of all her plans that she had plotted against him
behind his back. Rather, she had braced herself for his every assault. It had to happen now.
She would take what he would give, but now she wouldn't submit anymore to him. As there
was no use in submitting to him. She wouldn't let the fear overcome her now.