Chapter 4: Face-Off with Reality

Foyez stood at the entrance of a ruined mansion, once clearly the home of a wealthy family. The infrastructure witnessed the devastation of the war. But there's no time to narrate its state as one sound cut through it all—a woman's scream.

He rushed inside and followed the source of the scream.

The scene before made him freeze.

Three men and a woman lay motionless on the ground. Across the room, a group of rogue soldiers were assaulting two terrified women.

"Your family helped those Pak bastards. And You're a Bihari whore yourself" one of the soldiers sneered. "Time to pay with your virtue. You can only Curse your family for all your misfortune, chick."

Foyez stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat. Three armed soldiers.Two helpless girls. And he was alone.

'Should I run?'

The thought crossed through his mind for a moment before he made up his mind.

'I've already lived a life full of regrets. But not again, this is the life where I don't have it again.'

His grip tightened on the assault rifle—an AK-47, given by his comrade. He'd never handled one in his past life, but somehow, his body moved as if it knew how to shoot.

He aimed at the soldier forcing himself on a teenage girl.

The first shot missed by an inch. The second one hit the mark on the man's back.

A loud scream pierced through the air before the man went into a state of eternal silence.

The other two soldiers whipped around, finally noticing him.

Foyez ducked behind a cracked pillar just as bullets tore through the air, one grazing a foot from his head.

"You a Mukti too?" noticing his attire one of them yelled. "Why're you shootin' your own comrade?"

"Don't you dare compare me to scum like you!" Foyez shouted, voice trembling with rage.

He surged forward recklessly, trying to finish them off—but a shot ripped his abdomen and the vest saved his life. He gritted his teeth, falling back behind cover.

"This boy must've learned those dumb morals in school," one soldier scoffed. "War's over, brat. We're the winners and winners can do whatever they want."

They laughed. And that laugh was their mistake.

Foyez pulled out his sidearm, a pistol. While they were distracted, he fired without pointing the gun.

One of them dropped down instantly.

But suddenly he found his left arm injured. He got hit cause he was late to take the cover.

The remaining soldier feeling anxious firing blindly in his direction. Then: a click. Empty magazine. He began to reload it.

Foyez didn't wait.

He charged and fired the pistol wide open.

The opponent also fired but a bit late. A bullet went past his ear, and he nearly got wounded himself.

But his shot struck true.

The man's skull burst open, spraying brain liquid across the floor.

Silence returned.

Foyez collapsed on the ground, panting heavily and he noticed blood pouring out of his wound.

He had won despite being outnumbered, and injured, but alive.

His arm was heavily wounded and his body begged to collapse. But he couldn't.

Because in front of him were two girls—shaking, crying, broken.

And their pain was far worse than his.

Fayez found himself standing before a gruesome scene. Several people lay dead—including a woman who, by the look of it, had taken her own life to avoid being violated.

The two girls he had saved were trembling, terrified. They had wrapped themselves in whatever cloth they could find.

Fayez turned away from them, only to realize his wound was more serious than he'd thought. If left untreated, he could bleed out.

Even though he knew it was inappropriate to ask for help in a situation like this, he had no choice.

"Hey… can you get me a knife, some clean cloth, and iodine? I need to bandage my wound."

One of the girls seemed to understand the grave situation and silently stood up despite her mental shock probably out of gratitude. He followed her without another word.

She handed him a first aid kit—something quite rare in times like this—and told him to stay put.

Fayez began treating the wound himself. Luckily, his background in science from school helped him stay calm and do it properly.

The next morning, Fayez woke up to see the same horrific scene. The two girls had stayed by their loved ones' bodies all night.

"You should probably bur… I mean, hold a funeral for your family," he said cautiously.

With a sigh, the elder girl replied, "There's a family graveyard in the garden. We should bury them there."

"Well, you take care of the funeral. I'll deal with… the others," Fayez said, clearly referring to the rogue soldiers.

He dragged their bodies outside and laid them beneath a mango tree. Before burying them, he checked their pockets.

He found three pistols, some cash, and a photo of a lovely family.

The man in the photo was one of the people he'd killed the night before.

How does a family man become a rapist?

The thought lingered in his mind.

The funeral was held at noon. Three bodies… and only three people to send them off. Fayez was the only one to pray the Janazah. (funeral)

Life's like a cruel joke, he thought bitterly.

Afterward, the two girls cooked lunch and invited him to join them.

Fayez fell into deep thought. To navigate this post-war chaos, he needed two things: a security force and money.

That's when he realized—he was sitting on a gold mine. The house was wealthy. The girls couldn't even protect themselves; how would they defend the wealth?!

If he claimed this property, he could start a profitable business, maybe even build that security agency.

'Did I become so low that I'd rob two helpless girls?'

But then he shook his head.

This wealth didn't belong to them. It was extorted from the people. I can use it to help others later. But first—I have to survive.

That afternoon, Fayez saw the two girls again—along with a young boy, about six or seven. They must have hidden him during the chaos and only let him out after the funeral.

Fayez sat down and said,

"Well, I never introduced myself. My name is Fayez. I fought in the war. Got injured… lost some of my memory."

Surprised, the elder girl quickly responded, "I'm Roshni. I'm 16. This is my younger sister, Raisa—she's 13. And that little guy over there is my brother Arif. He's 7."

Fayez didn't say much after that. He quietly began eating. The food reminded him of his mother.

I wonder how she's doing after my death?

She's probably cursing and crying…

I died before I could even repay her debt.

With a heavy heart, he looked at the siblings.

He felt guilty for what he was about to say.

"So… what are you planning now? Moving to Pakistan? Or staying here?"

"I don't think we can flee," Roshni said quietly. "But staying here is also…"

"This place is dangerous," Fayez said. "But I can promise you safety. In return… I'll be seizing this property, assuming your family's collaboration with the Pakistan military."

Roshni's eyes flickered with betrayal—but she composed herself.

"Well… you can have it. Just protect us. That's all I ask."

Fayez felt the guilt rise again as she gave in so easily.

"I swear," he said. "I'll protect you all with my life."

She nodded.

And as silence fell, one thought echoed in Fayez's mind:

Am I a savior… or just a robber?

He didn't know the answer.