The old house stood before Miraal, a silent witness to her past, and she couldn't help but feel a tinge of nostalgia. She had spent her childhood here, surrounded by the love of her father, blissfully unaware of the secrets that had haunted her family. Abraar stood beside her, a silent presence, a reminder of the connection she couldn't escape.

Without a word to him, she entered the house. The memories came flooding back as she walked through the familiar rooms—the old khatya in the courtyard, the garden where she used to play, and the corner of the living room where her father used to read to her. Part of her had wanted to sell this place, to run from anything that connected her to Miraal. But she was tired of running away, and Abraar refused to let her go.

That night, as she sat alone on the terrace and he on a chaarpayi nearby, she finally spoke. "Pata hai, mai puri raat yaha par padhai karti thi imtehaan ke dauraan," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Aur mujhe darr na lage isliye Baba puri raat yaha radio sunte they."

Abraar listened, letting her words wash over him. "Mir Mehmoud maybe my biological father, but my actual father is the man who raised me."

He nodded, allowing her to continue as she gazed at him her eyes critical. "Mujhe ek baat samajh aagyi hai, insaan kabhi badal nahi sakta. I tried so hard to be Saira, but my psyche didn't allow me. Abraar how is it that you live two seperate lives, tumhara dimaag nahi kharab hota? Khudko dhoka dekar, sabko dhoka dekar thak nahi jaatey?"

He sighed, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him. "Maine tumse sach chupaya, magar dhoka nahi diya."

Her gaze remained fixed on the ground as she continued, "Itna bada sach jo mujhe nuksaan poncha sakta tha? Abraar, tum mera istemaal karna chahte they, you wanted to use me, use my weakness that I had no idea about. Woh dhoka nahi toh aur kya?"

She looked down and sighed deeply. "Abraar, I wouldn't have cared if you had used me, but mere baarey m itni badi baat tumhe pata thi, tumhe pata tha mere real dad kon hai but you kept it away from me."

His heart ached as he watched her struggle with her pain and anger. "I had no parents, no relatives, nobody, and I trusted you because I loved you. Ye kaisi mohabbat hai jiski bunyad ek jhoot se thi?"

He rose and walked upstairs to sit on the edge of the terrace, facing her. Running a hand through his hair, he continued, "I am not the man you thought I was. I am not a good man. Puri zindagi ek badle par luta di, apne gaon par. Jab Baba ke inteqaal se pehle, he told me to not shed a single tear. I expressed my grief in the form of revenge."

Abraar took her hand in his and sat on the ground beside her. "I didn't know what love was, didn't understand how weak it makes you. When you were missing, Miraal, Khuda kasam, har lamha maine tumhe dhunda hai. I wanted to find you and keep you safe, away from everyone."

Miraal finally asked the question that had been haunting her, "Did you ever love me?"

Abraar nodded sincerely, "Jab tum paas rehti ho, toh sukoon milta hai. I can fall asleep."

She processed his words, allowing them to sink in. "Miraal, tum apni Ammi ke baarey mein janti ho?"

She shook her head, her curiosity piqued. "Bas ye pata hai ke unhe gulaab bohot pasand they, ke unka naam Sidra tha aur Baba unhe bohot chahte they. But Abraar, it doesn't matter. She wasn't my real mother, was she?"

Abraar felt a deep pity for Miraal. She had been robbed of the truth her entire life. "Tumhari Ammi Mir Mehmoud ke liye kaam karti thi. Unki ek dost bani thi, Rano. Ye khat padh lo," he said, handing her a bundle of letters.

As she read the letters exchanged between her parents, her emotions shifted from confusion to shock, then to a deep sadness. Each letter painted a picture of love, longing, and sacrifice. Miraal gasped, reading each heartfelt message, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"This is... this is from my mother," she said, her voice trembling.

Abraar nodded. "Your mother loved your father deeply. She wrote to him when he left for the village, expressing her love and longing for him."

Miraal continued to read, her eyes welling up with tears as she absorbed the depth of her parents' love. "

'Haroon, take care of my Saira. Protect her. I think this would be our goodbye.

Yours, Sidra. '"

Miraal was quiet, too overwhelmed to speak. She read the letter again and again, realizing how great her father was, feeling disgusted with herself for ever doubting him.

"Meera, your father lost everything to protect you," Abraar said softly, his eyes filled with empathy. "Your mother, your father—they only wanted to keep you safe."

As Miraal processed the truth, the weight of her own bitterness and anger began to lift. She had blamed her father, doubted his intentions, and pushed away the thought of one person who had loved her sincerely.

Abraar's heart ached as he watched Miraal's tears flow. He gently wiped them away and held her hands, his voice filled with compassion. "They loved you, Miraal, more than anything because you were their daughter. Mir Mehmoud ki nahi, Haroon Qureshi aur Sidra ki beti ho tum."

She nodded in acknowledgment, her tears continuing to fall. "Khoon ka asar toh aata haina, Abraar? Agar mujhe uski fitrat virasat mein mili toh?"

Abraar gently consoled her, "Why are you punishing yourself for something you had no control over?"

In the midst of her pain and frustration, Miraal's voice quivered as she spoke her deepest fear. "Abraar, sach bolu, if I had a choice, I would choose not to be born than to be his daughter."

She continued, "And if I could go back in time, I would chose not to meet you"

Miraal's eyes bore into Abraar's, and her voice was laced with bitterness as she said, "Do you know what it feels like, Abraar? To have your entire world crumble at your feet? To realize that the man you loved, the man you thought was your protector, is the very one who kept you in the dark, who shattered your trust into a million pieces?"

Abraar's throat tightened, but he couldn't look away from her gaze. "Miraal, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this."

Miraal's anger flared as she retorted, "Sorry? Is that all you can say? Sorry can't mend the broken pieces of my heart. Sorry can't bring back the months I spent living a lie. Sorry can't change the fact that I'm the daughter of a man I despise."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice cracked as she continued, "You took away my right to know the truth about my own identity, Abraar. You made me question everything, even myself. How can I ever trust you again?"

Abraar's voice quivered with anguish as he replied, "Miraal, I'd give anything to turn back time, to change the choices I made. But I can't. All I can do now is promise you that I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make amends."

Miraal's anger clashed with her love, creating a storm of emotions within her. "You expect me to just forgive and forget, Abraar? To erase the scars you've left on my soul? You don't understand the agony I've endured."

Abraar's eyes filled with tears as he pleaded, "Miraal, please... I know I've hurt you in ways words can't describe, but I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, even if it means carrying the weight of my sins for the rest of my life."

Their words hung heavily in the air, the pain between them palpable. It was a moment where love and betrayal clashed, and the path to healing seemed like an insurmountable mountain.

****

Under the canvas of the night sky, where stars shimmered like fragments of forgotten dreams, Miraal lay on the bed, her thoughts a constellation of emotions. Beside her, Abraar's presence was a comforting anchor amidst the vast sea of uncertainties.

"Mere wajeh se you have become an insomniac?" he asked, breaking the silence that hung like a shroud.

Miraal sighed, her voice a gentle breeze in the stillness. "No, Abraar, I guess this is on me. For so long, I trusted people, my relatives, and they betrayed me. And then I trusted you, I let you in..."

She paused, her gaze lost in the distant memories of betrayal and heartache. "Anyway, let it be," she continued, her voice tinged with resignation. "Tum batao gaana kaha se seekhe?"

Abraar replied with a touch of nostalgia, "My mother taught me how to sing."

Miraal smiled at his openness, sensing a shift in their connection. This was the first time he had truly opened up to her, and it felt like a glimmer of hope in the midst of their turmoil. "You miss your mother?" she inquired gently.

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken longing. "A lot. My father was a great man, but I was never able to talk freely with him."

As she wrapped her arm around him, a sense of complexity enveloped the moment. Abraar was not the gentleman she had initially fallen for, nor was he solely the man who had betrayed her trust. He was slowly revealing layers of his true self, leaving her both intrigued and cautious.

"What about you? Do you miss your father?"

Miraal closed her eyes and began to hum softly, the melody weaving through the night like a whispered secret. "I miss him when I am eating biryani," she confessed, her voice a tender echo. "You know, neither of us knew how to make it, so Baba used to bring it from the bazaar wrapped in a newspaper. We used to eat it together."

She paused, tears glistening on her lashes as she continued, "I miss him when I feel lonely. I missed him when I heard that tape; it made me realize nobody... nobody could love you as much as your parents."

A quiver entered her voice as she choked back a sob, the raw pain of loss surfacing. "Sab saath chod dete, jabse Baba gaye hai, meri khushiyan bhi chali gayi. Log sach kehte hain, Maa Baap ki duaon se hi bacche khush rehte hain. This world means nothing to me without them."

Abraar leaned down and tenderly kissed her forehead, his eyes shimmering with empathy and guilt. As they gazed at the stars above, the moon cast its gentle glow upon them, as if bestowing its blessings on their shared moment of vulnerability.

"Gaana sunogi?" he whispered, his voice a soft melody in the tranquil night.

"Radio kharab hai", she replied as she gazed into his black eyes as he smiled, his lips perking up his teeth peaking, "I will sing for you".

Miraal blinked and smiled, her heart opening like a flower to his gesture. "Haan, sunungi," she replied,and settled into the crook of his arm.

Under the velvety embrace of the night sky, Miraal and Abraar lay together, their souls entwined in a dance of emotions. The moon, a solitary pearl amidst a sea of obsidian, cast its gentle glow upon them, bestowing an ethereal radiance upon their figures. Its soft light painted their faces with a celestial brush, accentuating the lines of longing and redemption etched upon their features.

As the night whispered secrets to the world, Miraal turned her gaze upward, her eyes tracing the constellations that had witnessed the unearthing of her past. The stars, like shimmering storytellers, twinkled in a choreographed ballet, their brilliance reflecting the depths of her heart. She lay there, cradled by the universe, feeling both small and significant in the grand tapestry of existence.

Abraar, with a voice that carried the weight of his hidden sorrow, began to sing. His melodic words danced upon the night breeze, intertwining with the delicate rustling of leaves in the garden below. Each note was a promise, a vow to heal the wounds of betrayal and love anew.

Their fingers interlocked, creating a bridge between two fractured souls. In this moment, beneath the canopy of stars, they weren't just Miraal and Abraar; they were a story, a saga of redemption and forgiveness. Their expressions shifted with each verse, a silent dialogue of unspoken apologies and yearning.

The night sky, an endless canvas of dreams, watched over them, bearing witness to their journey from darkness to light. It held the echoes of their whispered confessions and the melodies of their shared pain. The moon, a guardian of secrets, bathed them in its luminous embrace, casting a silvery spell upon their intertwined destinies.

As Abraar's song filled the night, Miraal closed her eyes, allowing the music to transport her to a place where trust was not shattered, where love was not tainted. In his arms, she felt the warmth of reconciliation, the promise of a new beginning.

The night sky, the moon, the stars—all conspired to create a moment suspended in time, where forgiveness bloomed like a rare, fragrant blossom. Miraal and Abraar, under the celestial dome, found solace in each other's arms, their souls finally at peace amidst the cosmic symphony of the universe.

____

Hey there I hope you are enjoying this book, there are many silent readers here so before I publish the final Chapter of Sadqay Tumhare I need a honest review from each of you.

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