Shards of a broken Heart

As Aahil entered the house, the silence around him deepened. Razia Begum's concerned gaze met him at the entrance.

"Are you alright, beta?" she asked gently.

Aahil only nodded, his eyelids swollen, his face a mask of quiet torment. "I'm getting late for work," he muttered, his voice choking on the edge of suppressed emotion, before stumbling up the stairs to his room.

Inside, Raneya was already there, sent by Justice Shah to retrieve an important file. She was searching carefully when she tripped over something soft beneath the bed. As she reached to steady herself, her fingers clutched the corner of an intricately embroidered bridal lehenga.

A thousand questions crashed into her mind. But before she could gather her thoughts, Aahil stormed in. His eyes narrowed, and fury etched itself across his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he barked.

Raneya turned, startled. "I was just—Justice Shah asked me to—"

But he cut her off, his voice laced with venom. "So this is how you earn trust? Snooping around in a man's room? Trying to gain his attention through sympathy and pretended innocence?"

Her lips parted in disbelief. "How dare you?" she whispered, rage and pain flashing in her eyes.

She stepped forward, arm raised to slap him, but he dodged swiftly and let out a humorless scoff.

The commotion drew Justice Shah, who entered immediately and took in the scene. Without a word, he guided Raneya out of the room, apologizing quietly.

He took her to Razia Begum, who was already waiting, concern etched on her face. The moment Raneya fell into her embrace, she broke into sobs, her strength finally shattering.

Razia Begum gently stroked her back. "You've misunderstood, beta."

"Who does that dress belong to then?" Raneya asked between sobs.

Razia Begum sighed, her eyes heavy with memories. "Anushka."

Raneya lifted her head, confused. "Who is Anushka?"

"She was Aahil's childhood love," Razia whispered. "And later, his wife."

The words stunned Raneya into silence.

"They were married for six years. He adored her. But his love was... dependent. He was never given much love growing up, and he clung to her like a lifeline. She became everything to him—mother, friend, partner. But he didn't grow up. He remained emotionally dependent. She compromised on many things... even their child."

Raneya's eyes widened. "Child?"

Razia nodded slowly. "She was pregnant two months into the marriage. But Aahil... he didn't want to lose their 'time together' so early. He convinced her to abort it, and she agreed but later, she couldn't kill it."

Raneya gasped. "Where is she now?"

Tears welled in Razia's eyes. "Anushka's diary was found, tucked away in the car. Aahil hadn't even known it existed until the accident. It was her final confession—one that no one had ever expected to hear. She had written, with sorrowful clarity, that she had fallen in love with Sahil, Aahil's younger brother. Aahil, she wrote, was a good man, but not the husband she needed. She needed someone who could give her the love she craved, not just be there in body but also in spirit. Aahil... he broke that day, and so did she."

Raneya listened intently, her own heart heavy with the weight of the truth. But then she hesitated. "But... What about the child? What happened to the baby?"

Razia Begum's eyes darkened, and for a moment, she didn't speak. The silence between them thickened, the tension building. Finally, Razia's voice trembled as she spoke, as if every word pained her. "Anushka gave birth... to a daughter."

Raneya's brows furrowed. "A daughter?" Her voice wavered, as she tried to piece together what Razia was saying. "But Aahil... he never mentioned anything about a child. Where is she?"

Razia's gaze lowered, and there was a long pause, as if Razia was gathering strength to reveal a truth that could shatter everything. When she spoke again, her words were softer, yet heavy with the weight of a tragic past. "Her name is Alyra."

Raneya stared at her, confusion clouding her features. "Alyra?"

"Yes," Razia Begum whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She looks just like Anushka... but behaves like Aahil. She is Aahil's flesh and blood, yet he can't bring himself to love her."

Raneya blinked, still trying to absorb the shock. "But why? Why would he turn away from his own daughter?"

Razia's voice broke as she continued, her words thick with sorrow. "Aahil... he couldn't look at her. Every time he saw Alyra, he saw Anushka—her beauty, her spirit, everything he had lost. And that was too much for him to bear."

She paused, as if the next part was even harder to say. "So, he sent her away. To a hostel. She's there now... a quiet, sad child... living like an orphan. She craves his love, Raneya, but Aahil can't give it to her. Not because she's not his daughter, but because she reminds him of all the brokenness, of the life he had with Anushka. And that pain... it's too great for him to face."

Raneya was speechless. The revelation hit her like a hammer, and she felt as though the world around her was shifting. "He... abandoned her? His own daughter?"

Tears welled in Razia's eyes as she nodded. "She lives at a private boarding hostel in the hills, near Murree. Aahil ensured it was the best. She has private tutors, music classes, a personal room, warm clothes, books... anything she could ever want—except love. Every month, like clockwork, he visits. He brings her gifts—rare dolls, imported sketchbooks, chocolates from places only the rich can afford. He stands outside her classroom and watches her draw. Sometimes, he hides behind the pillars, just to see her laugh."

Raneya's brows furrowed, her heart aching.

"But... he never speaks to her?"

Razia shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

"He does. Briefly. He pats her head. Asks how school is. Then leaves before she can ask him to stay. And every time he visits, she draws a little house with a man and a girl—standing side by side. She leaves it on her table, hoping he'll see it. And he does. He takes them all."

Raneya's throat tightened. "He keeps them?"

"Yes," Razia whispered. "Locked away. In a drawer in his study. Every single one."

Raneya's chest throbbed with unfamiliar grief.

"She comes home once every three months," Razia continued, her voice softer now. "For two weeks. And those are the hardest days in this house."

"Why?"

"Because she tries so hard, beta. She smiles wide, cooks with the staff, arranges his shoes, draws for him, waits in the corridor just to get a glimpse when he comes down the stairs. But he stays distant—cold, detached. And when she cries, she hides under the blanket. Because she knows... Baba doesn't like weakness."

Raneya blinked away tears. "What does she look like?"

Razia's eyes warmed at the thought of the child. "She's a mirror of Anushka. Big doe-like eyes the color of roasted almonds, lashes thick and curling up naturally. Her skin is pale, almost translucent, like porcelain, with a tiny mole just above her lip—same as her mother. But her expressions... they're all Aahil. She lifts one eyebrow when she's suspicious, clutches her fists when she's scared but doesn't want to show it, and her silence... it screams louder than any tantrum."

"She sounds like... a lonely child," Raneya murmured.

"She is," Razia said. "Lonely. But strong. She never complains. Not once. But she asks the same question every time she leaves—'If I draw more, will Baba talk to me longer next time?'"

Raneya's breath caught.

"She doesn't know he stands outside her hostel gate after she's gone in," Razia added. "He waits there for an hour. Sometimes two. Just sitting in the car, staring at the building like he's waiting for a miracle. He loves her, Raneya... he does. But he's imprisoned by the ghost of her mother. And it's not her fault. It never was."

Raneya leaned back, her mind spinning, her heart raw. The image of that little girl—hopeful eyes, quiet lips, tiny hands gripping crayon drawings—etched itself into her soul.

"Where is the hostel?" she asked, her voice small and filled with compassion.

"It is in Hyderabad... and my six-year-old great granddaughter is living there alone."

Raneya looked away, the pain in her chest twisting like a knife.

It was time—time she repaid the debt. Time she helped him heal—even if he didn't know he needed it.

And in that moment, Raneya knew she was here to rewrite a child's destiny.