The tea room in Liberty Market was painted in pastels, its walls cracked just enough to hint at stories no one told. It smelled of cardamom, worn rugs, and smoke — not cigarette smoke, but the kind that clung to mirrors after secrets were spoken.
Alishba sat at a corner table, camera bag beside her, dupatta draped loosely over her head. She looked like any other journalist waiting for a source.
Except she wasn’t waiting.
She was watching.
Through the narrow crack in the mirror-paneled wall, she had a clear view of the back lounge. It was sectioned off with velvet curtains and antique lamps. Men came here to talk where microphones wouldn’t hear. She’d memorized their arrival times, their guards, the handshakes.
And today, one of those men had brought a hard drive.
Not just any hard drive.
The one that held footage from Control Base — the same base Daniyal’s file had mentioned.
She had one chance to intercept it.
And no backup.
Reyan had refused.
“It’s a suicide mission,” he’d told her.25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoDmK6P2sMJ
“Then let me die looking for my brother,” she’d replied.
He hadn’t stopped her.
But she remembered the way he’d looked at her — not with anger, not even fear — but something darker.25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRE6FZYTbof
A man watching a flame eat itself.
Alishba adjusted the earpiece in her dupatta. She could hear bits of conversation.
“She knows too much.”25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2o11GvfQEC
“Phase II is coming.”25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6tKkXT2FKu
“Reyan is compromised.”
Her blood ran cold.
They were talking about Reyan.
Not her.
She shifted, peeking through the panel.
The man holding the hard drive had a scar running from his cheek to his ear. She recognized him.
Commander Fareed — ex-military intelligence. He was supposed to be dead. She’d seen a photograph of his grave.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
The grave. The silence. The erased records.
He wasn’t dead.
He was the cleaner.
And he was holding the only copy of her brother’s possible location.
She had no choice.
She stood, walked straight through the curtain, and sat at the table across from him.
Uninvited. Unannounced.
Fareed’s men tensed. Guns shifted beneath shawls.
He raised his hand.
Let her speak.
Alishba smiled slightly.
“Chai peeyenge, Commander?”
He stared at her for a long second. Then smiled.
“Bohot dair ke baad kisi ne himmat ki hai yahaan aake baithne ki.”
“I’m not here to impress you,” she said. “Just to take what’s mine.”
“You think your brother is still alive.”
“I know it.”
He leaned forward. “Then why haven’t you found him?”
“Because men like you keep hiding him.”
A flicker of amusement passed through his face. He slid the hard drive forward, letting it sit halfway between them on the table.
“You want it? Take it.”
Alishba narrowed her eyes.
“It’s never that easy.”
“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”
Then he stood.
The men didn’t move.
“Give Reyan a message,” Fareed said as he walked away. “Tell him the next time he sends you instead of coming himself — I’ll send her back in pieces.”
The last thing she heard was the door shutting behind him.
She didn’t breathe.
Didn’t blink.
Just reached out… and picked up the hard drive.
Across the city, Reyan sat in an empty masjid courtyard, fingers stained with grease from his dismantled pistol.
Zahra stood at the edge, arms folded.
“You let her go,” she said.
“She made her choice.”
“She walked into a nest alone.”
“She’s not fragile.”
“No,” Zahra snapped. “She’s foolish.”
Reyan looked up, eyes cold. “Be careful.”
Zahra stepped closer, voice lowering.
“Do you think she’ll still trust you when she finds out you flew more than just her brother out of that base?”
Reyan stilled.
Zahra smirked.
“You forgot I was there, didn’t you? The girl you helped escape? The one who traded her silence for freedom? I wasn’t the only one on that flight.”
Reyan rose, slowly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” she said. “Alishba’s brother wasn’t a prisoner. He was an asset. He went willingly. She doesn’t know.”
Reyan’s voice dropped to a near-whisper.
“Because she doesn’t need to.”
Zahra’s gaze turned to steel.
“You love her.”
“No.”
“You do.”
He said nothing.
And that was answer enough.
Back in her apartment, Alishba inserted the hard drive.
Password protected.25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYA4PzUHeSS
Encrypted.25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡemGqNQTT5l
Military-level firewalls.
But she had tools — and time — and anger.
Lines of code filled her screen as she bypassed layer after layer.
And then…
A video.
Black and white. Grainy.
A man strapped to a chair.
Face beaten. Eyes swollen. Voice barely audible.
“This is Daniyal Razaq,” he said. “If anyone sees this… I’m alive. But not for long. They’re not who they say they are.”
The video cracked, flickered.
“If you find Reyan — tell him I forgive him.”
Alishba's heart stopped.
What?
She replayed the last part.
“Tell Reyan… I forgive him.”
The screen blurred.
No coordinates. No clues. Just that single, haunting sentence.
Forgive him?
For what?
She shut the laptop.
Picked up her phone.
Called Reyan.
No answer.
She called again.
And again.
Still nothing.
Her hands were trembling.
Because now she didn’t just want to find Daniyal.
She wanted to know the truth Reyan had buried.
Even if it shattered everything between them.
Far away, Reyan stood on the edge of a rooftop, watching a black SUV disappear into the horizon.
Zahra stood beside him.
“He’s resurfaced,” she said. “Your ghosts are walking again.”
Reyan’s jaw tightened.
“You think she’ll forgive you when she learns what Daniyal really was?”
“No,” Reyan whispered. “But I never asked her to.”
Zahra looked at him sideways.
“And if she turns on you?”
He gave a bitter smile.
“Then I’ll let her.”
Because Alishba didn’t need saving anymore.
She needed answers.
Even if those answers destroyed both of them.
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