Raneya stumbled back from the door, her heart thundering like a thousand drums in her chest. The world around her—the walls, the floor—blurred into a hazy, unrecognizable mess.
Only her father's voice, once a symbol of safety, now felt like the hiss of a viper. Her stomach churned violently, bile rising in her throat. Her knees gave way. She staggered back, trembling, each breath slicing through her chest like shards of glass. The weight of betrayal was unbearable.
Her father.Her own blood.
The man who once held her tiny fingers as she learned to walk was the very one who had offered her up like a lamb to slaughter. She had been naïve to think she'd escaped the monster.
She had fled from Zaryab's cruelty... only to fall into the hands of the puppeteer who had orchestrated it all.
The mastermind had been here all along. Him.
Her knees buckled, and the realization struck like a blow to the gut—he had delivered her into Zaryab's hands. Not to a husband, but to a nightmare. The carefully crafted illusion of paternal love shattered, leaving only the hollow mask of a man who had sold his daughter like property. Now... he wanted her dead.
A trembling whisper escaped her lips, barely audible. "You... betrayed me…"
But no one heard her. She remained outside the room, invisible in the very house that had once raised her.
Her pulse thundered in her ears like a warning drum. She had to get out. Now.
Confrontation? Impossible.
Her throat constricted, terror clamping down on her chest. This wasn't the time to seek justice. Not yet. She didn't have the strength—not when survival hung by a thread. All she could do was run. Again.
She gathered her savings, her important belongings, and the scholarship letter—frantic, desperate.
She turned on her heel. Her heartbeat galloped wildly as her mind screamed at her to move faster. Not to look back. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet was like the scream of an executioner's blade. She didn't know where to go or who to trust, but one thing was certain—
She couldn't stay here. Not with him under the same roof. Not after knowing the truth.
She stumbled into the hallway, her vision swimming with tears. Her breath came ragged, her body still aching from the earlier escape. But fear numbed the pain. She fumbled for the front door, fingers trembling over the lock, as if her hands no longer belonged to her.
Then—
A voice behind her.
"Raneya?"
She froze.
Slowly, she turned. Her little sister, Aanya, stood at the edge of the hallway, half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. Her brows furrowed with concern. "Apa… where are you going?"
Raneya's lips parted, but the words wouldn't come. How could she explain this nightmare to a child still wrapped in the warmth of blind trust?
"I—I just need to step out," she choked, her voice barely audible. "Don't wake Ammi or Baba."
Aanya wasn't stupid. She took a cautious step forward. "Apa… is something wrong?"
Raneya hesitated. Then, without thinking, she bent and pressed a soft kiss to her sister's forehead. "Take care of yourself, okay? And… never trust anyone blindly."
With that, she slipped through the side gate, the early dawn's shadows swallowing her whole. Her feet, bare against the biting cold, felt numb. The streets ahead yawned like an empty grave. The cold night air sliced across her skin like knives. But she kept moving—because to stay meant death. And death wore her father's face.
She didn't wait. She didn't pause.
She ran. Again.
This time, her heart didn't just race with fear—it pounded with betrayal. She had no destination. No plan. Only the primal urge to live. Her tears mingled with the wind as she darted into the darkness. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was like a final nail in the coffin of her past.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
She didn't know who she was anymore.
But one thing was certain—
She was done being the pawn.
Back inside, the silence was broken by Aanya's frantic voice.
"She's gone! Apa's gone!"
Her shrill cry pulled Fazeela and Qureshi Sahab into the hallway. Aanya stood there, pale and trembling, pointing at the wide-open back gate.
Fazeela's lips curled into a sneer. "Ungrateful wench," she hissed. "We should have never let her in. I knew it. I knew she would only bring dishonor and filth to this house."
Aanya clutched her nightshirt, unsure. "But Ammi… she looked so scared—"
"Enough!" Fazeela's voice thundered. "Don't you ever call her your sister again. I have one daughter. And it's you."
The words slapped Aanya across the face, leaving her speechless. She opened her mouth to protest, but then caught the quiet smirk forming on Qureshi Sahab's lips.
He turned away from the door, pulling out his phone. His voice was low, devoid of emotion. "She's on the move. You know what to do."
No hesitation. No doubt.
Just a command to hunt.
And now, with Fazeela's declaration sealing Raneya's exile, his plan had become easier than ever. No family. No shelter. No protection.
Only prey.
He hung up and looked at Fazeela, who was pacing angrily.
"She's not our daughter anymore," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "She's nothing but a curse."
Qureshi Sahab nodded slowly, a gleam in his eyes. "Then it's time we erased the curse."