The old railway station on the edge of Cholistan had been shut down years ago — its tracks rusted, its ticket booth half-eaten by termites, and its nameboard faded under years of sand and sun.
But tonight, it held three people and the weight of an unfinished story.
Alishba crouched beside a rusted signal box, watching Daniyal rest with his back against a stack of crates. He looked better now — still bruised, still recovering, but no longer hollow.
Reyan stood guard, pacing in the shadows with quiet purpose.
Alishba’s voice broke the silence.
“What’s The Dust File?”
Daniyal blinked.
Then reached into his torn satchel and pulled out a tiny, scorched USB — no label, no logo. Just scratched metal and ash on its surface.
“This is why I left,” he said quietly.
Alishba took it, turned it in her fingers. “What’s on it?”
“Everything,” Daniyal said. “Every covert experiment they denied, every death they erased, every pilot they corrupted.”
Reyan stiffened.
Daniyal glanced at him. “Including you.”
Alishba’s eyes snapped to Reyan.
“What’s he talking about?”
Reyan didn’t speak.
Daniyal answered for him.
“Before I vanished, Reyan was assigned to Project Saaya’s transport cell. He didn’t just fly data. He flew the people they experimented on.”
Alishba’s heart slammed against her chest.
She looked at Reyan. “Is it true?”
He nodded, once. “I didn’t know the truth at first. By the time I did… I was already in too deep.”
“So you stayed quiet?”
“No,” Reyan said. “I stopped flying their routes. That’s when they came for me.”
Daniyal added, “He helped me disappear. Risked everything.”
Alishba looked between them — the two men who shaped her life in opposite directions.
“You both lied to me.”
“I protected you,” Reyan said.
“You abandoned me,” Daniyal added softly, almost to himself.
She shook her head. “No. You abandoned me. You let me believe you were dead.”
“I did it to keep you safe.”
“You did it to keep your secrets safe.”
She stood up, furious.
But something in her stopped her from walking away.
Because despite the betrayal… the truth was finally in her hands.
The Dust File.
Later that night, under the flickering light of a half-dead lantern, Alishba plugged the USB into her laptop.
Dozens of encrypted folders appeared.
She clicked one marked "DR-Classified: Lahore Archives."
A video played.
Date: June 17, 20209Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeUcNO1Hinm
Location: Underground cell — Base-17
A young woman, eyes bloodshot, sat strapped to a chair.
Off-screen voices interrogated her.
“Who else knows about the cyber-leaks?”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqAuDk0drWl
“I didn’t tell anyone.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnORc1wPWKp
“Did Reyan Ahmed give you access?”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0AxcYPyg7S
“No, I swear. I—”
A loud slap.
The woman’s head dropped.
Then another voice entered — calm, calculated.
Daniyal.
“Stop hurting her. She’s not the leak. I am.”
Alishba froze.
The camera zoomed in.
Daniyal was standing there, hands raised.
Calm. Empty.
“I did it. I leaked the files to an external server. She doesn’t know anything.”
The voices hesitated.
Then: “You’ll be reassigned.”
Daniyal nodded.
“I know.”
The footage ended.
Silence clamped the room.
Reyan spoke first.
“That woman in the chair — her name was Anam. Civilian tech researcher. She was just trying to expose budget corruption.”
Alishba closed the laptop slowly.
“You confessed to protect her.”
Daniyal nodded.
“But that’s not why I stayed,” he added. “That’s not why I vanished.”
Alishba frowned. “Then why?”
He hesitated.
Then said:
“Because someone you know… was the one who ordered the torture.”
Alishba’s heart stilled.
“Who?”
He looked her in the eye.
Reyan’s voice came from behind her, low and hollow.
“It was my father.”
Silence dropped like a thunderclap.
Alishba turned.
“What?”
Reyan leaned against the wall, face like stone.
“He was one of the lead directors in Saaya. Oversaw interrogation units. I didn’t know until I saw the files. When I confronted him, he gave me a choice: stay loyal, or disappear with them.”
Daniyal added, “Reyan chose us. Paid with everything.”
Alishba stepped back, dizzy.
Her world, her anchors — shifting, crumbling.
She had photographed wars.
But this… this was the war inside her own family.
She looked at Reyan, voice barely a whisper.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you wouldn’t have trusted me.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t.”
But then she turned to Daniyal.
“And I don’t trust you either.”
She picked up the USB.
“This isn’t just evidence,” she said. “This is justice. I’ll release it.”
“You’ll be hunted,” Reyan said.
“I already am.”
Daniyal nodded slowly.
“I’ll help you.”
She gave a sharp laugh.
“No. You’ll both help me. Or I go alone.”
The men exchanged glances.
Enemies. Allies. Family. Liars.
Bound by blood, betrayal, and now—truth.
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