They came home after the party and were sitting in the hall talking when a call came on Mr. Jilani's phone. Hearing it, he fell silent, which everyone noticed. Kayan asked:
"What happened, Dad? Whose call was it? Why did you suddenly go quiet?"
He replied:
"It was a call from the hospital. Ameen Leghari has had cancer for two months and is admitted there. He is breathing his last and wants to meet all of us."
Silence fell over everyone. Mr. Ilyas said after some thought:
"Let's go to the hospital... we will all meet him."
Haleema Begum looked at him questioning retiredly, and he said:
"Begum, I am not telling you to forgive him; that is your own choice. But I think it's better to end all this here."
Understanding his point, she nodded and got ready to go. Hooreen also stood up because her Papa could never do anything wrong, and he was right.
When they entered the room in the hospital, they were stunned to see Ameen Leghari's withered condition. His body looked worse than a skeleton. There were sores all over his skin that had rotted; perhaps there were even maggots in them. His eyes were sunken deep. Hearing someone open the door, he opened his eyes with great difficulty. Seeing everyone, tears started flowing from his eyes—tears that were red. Seeing this, Hooreen gripped Kayan's hand tightly. He couldn't speak, yet he gathered courage and with great difficulty joined both hands:
"For... for... give... m... e...!"
Seeing his condition, Haleema Begum took a step back. Mr. Ilyas supported her by the shoulders. She felt fear looking at him. The "God's stick" is truly noiseless. She leaned against Mr. Ilyas's chest and, looking at Ameen Leghari through tears, said:
"God has punished you for whatever you did... I forgive you for every sin, Ameen Leghari."
Mr. Ilyas took her outside. Mr. Jilani spoke:
"We all endured a lot because of you. If our forgiveness reduces your punishment even a little, then I forgive you too."
He too walked out after speaking. Hooreen moved a little closer to his bed; there were tears in her eyes. She said:
"Whether to forgive you or not is in Mamma's hands because you hurt her the most. If she has forgiven you, then the question of me not forgiving doesn't even arise. I have no grudge against you regarding anything."
Hooreen looked into his longing eyes. Understanding his plea, she spoke with a wounded smile:
"I cannot fulfill this wish of yours. I have only one Papa who never desired his own children because of me. Who gave me more love than even Mamma, who gave me his name. I am his daughter. That's why Mamma's prayers didn't go in vain; if I were your daughter, perhaps I too would be going through the same agony today."
Her steps faltered; Kayan supported her. She saw the flickering lamps of hope in his eyes. Placing a stone on her heart, she said:
"Let me tell you one more thing, maybe it will give your heart some peace. You are going to be a grandfather... Baba...!"
Colors of immense joy spread across his eyes and face, but his breathing was slowing down. Hearing "Baba" from Hooreen's mouth, he took his last breath. She had called him "Baba" only considering it his last wish. His breathing stopped. Hooreen cried and hugged Kayan, hanging in his arms.
She was lying on a hospital bed, and Kayan was sitting by her side. He hadn't told Mr. Jilani, Haleema Begum, or Mr. Ilyas about Hooreen fainting. They were all performing the final rites of Ameen Leghari's burial. There was no one else; Hareem was out of the country and had refused to come.
When Hooreen regained consciousness, Kayan was sitting near her, holding her hand. There was only peace in Hooreen's heart now. The irritation in her heart had also ended today; she was at ease. Seeing her, he immediately leaned over her and asked:
"Are you okay? Is it pained anywhere?"
"I am fine... I am not in pain anywhere...!"
Seeing the increasing expressions of worry on Kayan's face and seeing him confused, she held his hand and said:
"The same question is in your mind as in everyone else's: whether I am happy about our baby or not. And this is what is worrying you. Kayan, I will just say this: I cannot be ungrateful and become the reason for another 'Noor' or 'Hoor' not coming into this world. How can I turn away from this special blessing of God? This is a sign of our love. Whatever the circumstances, this child is as dear to me as you are."
At her words, he placed a kiss of love on her forehead, pulled back, and changed the subject:
"Hoor, you didn't take any care of yourself. The doctor insulted me so much for this."
She spoke with a smile:
"Taking care of me was your job, which you didn't do. It's good the doctor insulted the 'Great Kayan Zarrar'; he deserved it."
Kayan looked at her with his mouth open at her accusation. She moved closer, closed his mouth, and teased him:
"I am right. You know how to stick to Natasha, but no care for your wife."
At her manner, he leaned over her charmingly and said:
"The wife doesn't let me stick to her. If I go even a little near, her heart beats as if it will break her ribs and come out."
With him so close, her heart truly was beating loudly. Hooreen placed her soft, delicate hands on his broad chest, pushed him away slightly, got off the bed, and said she wanted to go home. Kayan followed her out, laughing.
Mr. Ilyas and Haleema Begum had been staying with them in Karachi for a few days. Hooreen was staying in their room with them. Kayan had asked her many times to come to his room, but she put it off by saying she wanted to spend a few days with her parents. But the truth was she was running away from Kayan's passion and his proximity. Kayan was well aware of this, so he didn't insist.
Today, Mr. Jilani was going abroad for work, so Haleema Begum and Mr. Ilyas also booked their return tickets and left. They themselves left the two alone so they could spend time together.
She was still in her parents' room. She came out of the bath wearing a bathrobe to get her clothes, but she saw her clothes on the bed were missing. She went toward the changing room; it was locked too. Just then, she heard the room door open and smelled Kayan's cologne; she understood this was all the doing of her "Majnu" husband.
Seeing Hooreen in a bathrobe like that, Kayan's breath hitched. Hooreen turned toward him and said sulkingly:
"Give me the keys...!"
"And if I don't...?"
He stood there, looking at her from head to toe with deep gazes. She was already intimidated by his gaze, so she spoke irritably:
"Kayan... you...!"
"Me what...?"
Seeing Kayan looking at her, she fell silent. Kayan asked her:
"How long will this go on, Hoor? How long will you stay in this room? Come to our room."
She was already annoyed. Seeing Kayan slowly moving toward her, she said:
"I'm not going anywhere. If you can take me, then take me; I won't go anywhere myself."
She bit her tongue at what she had carelessly said and began to bite her lip in nervousness, knowing how her romantic husband would take those words. Kayan's loud laugh echoed in the room at her words and action. In a second, he reached her and picked her up in his arms. She kept saying "no," but he ignored her, carried her to their room, and closed the door with his foot.
Laying her on the bed, he leaned over her. He traced her entire face with the warmth of his hot lips. He was leaving his touch on every part of her face, making Hooreen's heartbeat race. Looking at her, Kayan spoke in a voice filled with love:
"Is there permission...?"
At his question, Hooreen lifted the veil of her lowered, trembling lashes, looked at him, nodded yes, and bowed her head again. Kayan gently caught her chin, lifted her face, and said:
"Words, Hoor...!"
As he spoke, Kayan placed his lips on her neck and gave a light bite. It was a small punishment; she knew if she didn't answer him, the next punishment would be bigger. She spoke stammering:
"Y-yes...!"
Upon getting permission, Kayan untied the robe of her bathrobe and leaned over her. His lips went from her collarbone to her mole, and from there, they crossed every limit. Kayan's passion increased further, along with Hooreen's heartbeats. She left herself at Kayan's mercy. Every passing moment was bringing the two closer and closer. Today, she was content after surrendering herself to Kayan.
Three Years Later
The golden hour had descended upon the Zarrar mansion, casting long, amber shadows across the lush gardens. Inside the master suite, the air was thick with the scent of expensive sandalwood and the familiar, intoxicating aroma of jasmine that always followed Hooreen.
Hooreen stood before the full-length mirror, struggling with the zipper of her silk dress. At twenty-four, she had blossomed into a woman of breathtaking grace. The motherhood of their two-year-old daughter, Zoya, had only added a soft, maternal glow to her features.
Suddenly, a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around her waist from behind. She didn't need to turn to know it was Kayan. The heat from his body seeped through her silk dress, making her breath hitch.
"Let me help you, wifey," Kayan whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against her ear. Instead of pulling the zipper up, his fingers grazed the bare skin of her spine, sending a trail of fire through her nerves. He slowly pulled the zipper down further, exposing the delicate curve of her back.
"Kayan... the guests will be arriving for the anniversary dinner soon," Hooreen breathed, though her head involuntarily tilted back against his shoulder.
"Let them wait," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear.
"I spent too many years waiting for you, Hoor. Every second I get you alone feels like a gift I'm not ready to share."
He turned her around in his arms, his dark eyes smoldering with that same Ishq-e-Junoon that had once terrified her but now felt like her only sanctuary. He lifted her easily, placing her on the edge of the mahogany vanity.
Hooreen's hands instinctively flew to his shoulders, her fingers bunching the fabric of his black shirt. As Kayan leaned in, his lips didn't just meet hers; they claimed them with a hunger that years of marriage hadn't dimmed. It was a slow, deep exploration—a silent language of everything they had survived.
His hands moved with a possessive rhythm, tracing the contours of her body, reminding her that she was his entirely. The room felt smaller, the air hotter, as the boundaries between them blurred. In the quiet of their room, away from the world's prying eyes, they were just two souls finally in sync.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with emotion.
"You are my life, Hoor. My beginning and my end," he replied, his forehead resting against hers as they both fought to catch their breath.
Later that evening, the mansion was filled with the sounds of laughter. Mr. Jilani and Mr. Ilyas sat by the fireplace, discussing business and the joys of being grandfathers, while Haleema Begum watched Zoya play with her dolls.
Kayan stood by the large French windows, watching his family. Hooreen walked up to him, handing him a glass of juice. He took her hand, interlacing their fingers, and looked out at the moonlit garden.
"You know," Hooreen said softly,
"Papa was right that day at the hospital. Everything had to happen the way it did for us to value this peace."
Kayan looked at her, his gaze softening as it landed on her face.
"I used to be a man who wanted to conquer the world. Now, my entire world fits right here in this house."
He pulled her into a side hug, and they stood in silence, watching their daughter run toward them. Life was finally complete. The storms had passed, the debts of the past were paid, and all that remained was a love that was destined to last a lifetime.
THE END.
Author's Note
"This story holds a very special place in my heart. It was my very first novel, originally written back in 2015. For years, it existed only in a handwritten 'hard copy,' tucked away in my drawer. I was always paralyzed by fear—the fear that people might mock my writing, laugh at my ideas, or judge the story too harshly. Because of that lack of courage, I never dared to convert it into a digital format or share it with the world.
Now, after many years of reflection, I have finally found the strength to step out of my shell and share this journey with you.
I originally wrote this novel in Urdu, and I have personally translated it into English. Please keep in mind that translation is a delicate bridge; some words in Urdu carry deep, cultural nuances that are difficult to mirror perfectly in English. You may find grammatical flaws or stylistic inconsistencies, but I have done my best to preserve the essence of the story.
If you enjoy the world of Kayan and Hooreen, or if you would like to see an enhanced, professionally edited version of this book, please let me know in the comments section. Your feedback and encouragement mean the world to me.
I hope you fall in love with these characters just as I did ten years ago. Happy reading!"