Meanwhile...

Inside the black SUV, silence filled the cabin. Zaid was driving. Uzair sat in the passenger seat with one elbow resting lazily against the armrest, his phone in his hand.

His thumb lingered over the last message he had sent.

Block as many numbers as you want. I'll simply text you from another one.

A slow smile curved across his lips. He locked the screen. The wallpaper appeared.

Yusra.

It was a photograph secretly captured in the market.

She stood in the middle of the crowd with both hands planted on her waist, glaring furiously at Fahad while arguing with him.

Her dupatta had slipped slightly from one shoulder because of the chaos. A few loose strands of hair framed her face. Her chin was lifted in pure defiance. There wasn't a trace of fear on her face.

Only anger. Only stubbornness.

Uzair stared at the picture as though the entire world had disappeared. No woman had ever challenged him that openly.

No woman had ever stood before him, threatened him with her sandals, pushed him away, called him insane, rejected him to his face...And somehow...Every single one of those things had only pulled him toward her even more.

His smile widened. "You're unbelievable..." he murmured under his breath.

He had spent his entire life surrounded by women who either feared him… Or admired him from a distance or women who threw themselves on him because of his status. Women who expected protection before they had even learned to protect themselves. Women who cried at the first inconvenience. Women who looked for someone to solve every problem.

He had never wanted that.

Never.

He wanted a woman who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Not behind him. Someone who wouldn't run to him in tears every time life became difficult.

Someone who would deal with the problem herself...Then come back laughing just to tell him how thoroughly she had defeated whoever stood in her way.

Because the world he belonged to...Wasn't forgiving. It was cruel, bloody and merciless.

There would be days when he wouldn't be beside his wife. Days when enemies would be watching. Days when danger would arrive before he could.

He wanted a woman who knew how to survive even in his absence. Someone fearless. Someone impossible to break. Someone exactly like...Yusra.

Lost in those thoughts, he continued staring at her picture.

Zaid stole another glance at him. Then another and finally he couldn't hold himself back anymore. He shook his head. "You've completely lost it."

Uzair didn't even blink. "Hm?"

"You met the girl twice." Zaid laughed. "Twice. And you've already gone insane."

Uzair's eyes never left the wallpaper. "I have."

"You admit it?"

"I do."

Zaid sighed dramatically. "Allah save that poor girl."

Uzair chuckled. "She doesn't need saving." His smile turned softer. "The rest of the world does."

Zaid snorted. "You're impossible."

A moment later he looked toward him again. "We need to head back."

Uzair finally slipped the phone into his pocket. "I know."

Without another word, the SUV accelerated toward the airport.

A few hours later they landed in Mumbai.

The moment Uzair walked towards the black Range Rover waiting outside the private terminal...The warmth disappeared from his face.

The playful man who had spent the afternoon teasing Yusra simply ceased to exist.

His shoulders straightened. His gaze hardened. Every movement became measured, controlled and commanding.

The air itself seemed to change around him. Men standing outside instantly lowered their heads.

"Assalamu Alaikum, Chaudhary Sahab."

"Walaikum Assalam."

Another man hurried forward. "Welcome back, Chaudhary Sahab."

A simple nod. Nothing more. No unnecessary words. No unnecessary expressions. People instinctively stepped aside to clear his path. Nobody dared block it. Nobody dared keep him waiting.

Zaid watched him from behind and smiled faintly.

There he is.

The Devil is back.

The massive Chaudhary mansion stood illuminated against the evening sky. The iron gates opened long before their vehicles reached them. Servants lined both sides of the entrance with their heads bowed in front of their boss.

The moment Uzair entered the grand hall an elderly woman was already waiting with her arms wide open.

"Hamara bachcha…(my child)" Hiba Begum's eyes softened the instant she saw him. "My grandson."

Uzair's cold expression melted almost immediately. He walked straight toward her.

She pulled him tightly into her embrace. "May Allah keep every evil away from you." She kissed his forehead. "You've come home after so many days."

Uzair smiled gently. "There was work, Dadijaan."

She pulled back just enough to glare at him. "What kind of work makes a man forget his own home?"

Before Uzair could answer, a deep voice echoed through the hall.

"Hiba Begum..."

Everyone turned and found Shamsher Chaudhary slowly descending the staircase with his walking stick.

"The solution is simple." He looked directly at his grandson. "Bring home a wife who ties this boy to the house."

Uzair closed his eyes briefly. "There we go..." He walked toward his grandfather. Without hesitation he took the elderly man's hand in both of his own. Then respectfully bowed his head and touched it to the back of Shamsher's hand. "Assalamu Alaikum, Dadajaan."

Shamsher smiled proudly. "Walaikum Assalam." He placed a firm hand on Uzair's shoulder. "May Allah keep you victorious."

"Ameen."

Behind them Hiba sighed dramatically. "I've been ready for years." She looked toward her husband. "It's your grandson who never likes any girl."

"Dadajaan.” Uzair instantly changed the subject. "I met the Zaidi family today regarding our white businesses. They're interested in moving forward with the import and export partnership."

Shamsher nodded thoughtfully. "Zaidi? Which Zaidi?"

"Lucknow. A very influential business family. The father, Amir Zaidi, owns one of the biggest textile businesses in the region." Uzair informed him.

Just then another voice entered the conversation.

"Hello, everyone!”

Everyone turned and saw Zaid walking inside carrying his overnight bag. A smirk rested on his face. He greeted the elders before sitting down.

Shamsher gestured toward him. "Sit."

Zaid obeyed.

Meanwhile… Hiba had gone unusually quiet.

"Amir Zaidi..." she repeated slowly. "There is only one Amir Zaidi I know.".She looked toward Shamsher. "My distant cousin Humera's son is also named Amir Zaidi. They've lived in Hyderabad for years."

Shamsher thought for a moment. "I heard one of her sons shifted to Uttar Pradesh for business."

Hiba nodded absentmindedly while mumbling. "It's been years since I last saw her."

Uzair spoke without hesitation. "Then let's visit her, Dadijaan."

A smile returned to her face. "I would love that."

Just then footsteps echoed from the corridor. Fatima, Badshah’s mother, entered carrying a silver tea tray. She smiled warmly. "Both of you finally remembered this house exists."

Uzair and Zaid immediately stood. "Assalamu Alaikum, Phuppo."

She blessed both of them before placing the tray on the table.

Uzair looked around. "Where's Badshah?"

Fatima smiled proudly. "Handling your work while you disappeared."

Uzair nodded approvingly.

A moment later Shamsher looked toward him. "Did the Rafiq matter get resolved?"

"I thought Badshah would've told you." Uzair said while sitting lazily resting his arm on the back of the couch.

"He did." Shamsher calmly stirred his tea. "But hearing it from him and hearing it from you..." He looked directly at Uzair. "...are two very different things."

"It's done." Uzair chuckled. "Completely."

No further explanation was needed..None was asked. The silence itself carried enough weight.

The family had barely started drinking tea when the sound of high heels echoed through the hall.

Everyone looked toward the entrance.

A graceful woman walked inside wearing an elegant ivory suit. Two servants followed behind her carrying dozens of shopping bags.

The moment she spotted Uzair, she placed a hand on her hip. "Oh. So His Highness finally remembered he has a home."

Uzair calmly sipped his tea. "My dearest Appi (sister). Someone has to stay away earning money." He glanced toward the mountain of shopping bags. "So you can spend it on things you absolutely do not need."

Zarqa rolled her eyes. "I don't waste your money. I stimulate the economy."

Zaid burst out laughing.

Uzair nodded thoughtfully. "By personally sponsoring every luxury brand in Mumbai."

"I should receive an award."

"You should receive a financial advisor."

Both siblings started their arguments as usual. Doesn't matter how feared man Uzair is, he's like this only for his sister. Always trying to make her laugh or smile even if it involves stupid things like that.

As laughter echoed through the hall, Hiba Begum quietly watched her granddaughter.

A faint smile rested on Zarqa's lips as she argued with Uzair exactly the way she always had, but Hiba knew better than anyone how much pain that smile concealed.

Sometimes she wondered if Allah had tested the women of her family a little too much.

First….Her own daughter Fatima.

Fatima had once left this house as a hopeful bride but instead of finding a home, she found cruelty.

Her husband divorced her without mercy for another woman. But he didn't just stop there, he had beaten her to death.

The moment Uzair found out that he personally made sure the man never had another chance to hurt anyone again. He gave him the worst death possible.

Then he brings back Fatima and her little son, Badshah, to the Chaudhary Mansion, where they had remained ever since.

Years passed. Life slowly became normal again. Then destiny struck the family once more.

This time… It was Zarqa.

The entire Chaudhary family had celebrated her wedding with endless joy. Safir had been everything they could have wished for. Kind. Respectful. Gentle.

But Allah had written only a few weeks of marriage in their fate.

A sudden heart attack. One ordinary morning...and by evening… Zarqa had become a widow.

No children. No memories beyond a handful of precious weeks. Only unbearable silence.

Hiba herself had gone to bring her granddaughter home.

She still remembered removing Zarqa's bridal clothes with trembling hands and replacing them with plain white garments.

It remained one of the darkest days of her life after what this family had once witnessed with their daughter-in-law itself and then what happened to their son but no one dared to remember or speak about it for Uzair's sake.

Since then, Zarqa had lived under this roof again.

Hiba had tried countless times to convince her to remarry. "My child," she would say gently, "Allah may have written another happiness for you."

But Zarqa always smiled through tear-filled eyes before giving the same answer. "My husband was Safir. There will never be another. I was blessed with him, even if only for a few weeks. I cannot give his place in my heart to anyone else."

Eventually...Hiba stopped asking. Not because she had given up hope. But because she understood. Some people moved on. Others simply learned to live with the empty place beside them.

Whenever Hiba looked at Fatima and then at Zarqa, the same prayer escaped her heart.

May Allah never test another woman of this family the way He tested these two and her daughter-in-law.

As evening settled over the mansion, Hiba insisted that Zaid stay for dinner. "No arguments. Badshah will be home soon. You'll eat with us."

Zaid raised both hands dramatically. "I surrender."

Not long afterward the front doors opened again and Badshah walked inside.

After greeting everyone he looked toward Uzair. "So...You finally came back."

Uzair just gave a slight nod as his answer.

Dinner was served shortly afterward.

Halfway through the meal Hiba looked toward Zaid. "The Lucknow work finished days ago. So why did both of you come back this late?"

Zaid took a bite before answering. "We have to manage the legal businesses too." He looked toward Uzair while saying that who continued next,

"Unlike certain people here..." Uzair looked directly at Badshah. "...who only enjoys pleasure more than work."

Badshah looked up. "Shut up."

"See?" Zaid grinned. "I missed that greeting."

The table filled with laughter.

Even Uzair allowed himself the smallest smile before quietly returning to his meal.

Calm, collected and unreadable. Yet somewhere inside the pocket of his suit… His phone still carried the wallpaper of a stubborn schoolteacher from Lucknow.

And for the first time in many years… The most feared man in the country was looking forward to tomorrow morning more than his next business meeting.

After dinner, Zaid brought out the bags he had carried from Lucknow. One by one he handed the carefully chosen gifts to each member of the family.

A soft cashmere shawl for Hiba Begum. A rare antique walking stick for Shamsher Chaudhary. A delicate set of gold bangles for Fatima. A limited-edition watch for Badshah. And for Zarqa, a silk scarf in the exact shade of ivory she favored.

Everyone thanked him but a pair of eyes was not ready to leave him.

Once the last gift was given, he excused himself. “I should head home. It’s been a long day.”

Hiba insisted he stay the night, but Zaid politely declined because he knows if he does then there will be consequences.

He hugged the elders, exchanged a brief look with Uzair, and left the mansion.

The drive to his penthouse was quiet. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows of his car. When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, he stepped out, unlocked the door, and walked inside.

The place was dark except for the soft glow of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He loosened a few buttons of his shirt as he moved toward the bedroom, already thinking of a shower and sleep.

The moment he pushed the door open, he stopped.

A woman was on his bed.

She lay stretched across the dark sheets, completely naked, her body arranged with deliberate carelessness that somehow looked anything but careless.

One knee was drawn up, the other leg stretched long and smooth against the mattress.

Her hair spilled in loose black waves over the pillows, framing her face and cascading down over one shoulder.

The soft city light poured across her skin, highlighting the full curve of her full breasts, the tight peaks of her nipples, the soft dip of her waist, and the smooth, inviting line of her hips and thighs.

She made no move to cover herself. Instead she watched him through half-lidded eyes, lips parted just enough to look soft and waiting. 

One hand rested lightly on her stomach, fingers tracing slow, idle circles as if she had been touching herself while waiting for him.

Zaid remained in the doorway. He folded his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here, Zarqa?”

She tilted her head, the picture of innocence. “You sound surprised. As if you don’t already know.”

Zaid’s voice stayed even, but there was steel beneath it. “Look, Zarqa. That was a mistake. I was drunk. You were drunk. Once, by accident, I crossed that line. It will not happen again. I cannot betray Uzair. I’m already betraying him by keeping this secret from him for your sake. Put your clothes on and get the fuck out of here.”

Zarqa rose from the bed with unhurried, liquid grace.

Every movement was slow and deliberate, designed to hold his eyes. She walked toward him barefoot, hips rolling with each step, the soft sway of her breasts drawing attention she did nothing to hide.

When she reached him she pressed her naked body fully against his clothed one, soft skin meeting hard muscle, her breasts crushing lightly against his chest.

Before he could step back she grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him down and claimed his mouth in a deep, forceful, passionate kiss. 

Her lips crushed against his, tongue pushing past his teeth with hungry insistence, tasting him, sucking at his lower lip, refusing to let him pull away.

She kissed him like she meant to brand the taste of herself into him, body rubbing against his, hips rolling in slow, deliberate friction as she poured every bit of heat and need into the kiss. Her already dripping cunt rubbing against his thighs tells him how wet she already is for him.

Between the heated press of her mouth she whispered against his lips, voice low and breathy and desperate. “I know you want me, Zaid. Don’t fight it. Uzair will never find out.”

Her free hand slid downward, fingers tracing the fabric of his trousers with deliberate, teasing pressure, trying to pull him deeper into the moment as she guided his hand towards her thighs with another hand and pressed upon her throbbing cunt.

“Come on baby, come to bed and take me. Fuck this pussy. See how wet she already is for your big cock.”

Zaid tore his mouth away hard, caught her wrist in a firm grip with his free hand and shoved her back hard enough that she stumbled. Anger flashed across his face.

“I am not some male escort you can come to whenever you feel like satisfying yourself. If there is so much fire inside you, why don’t you remarry? Your grandmother has been wanting that for years.”

He turned without another glance, walked straight out of the bedroom, and headed for the front door. At the threshold he paused only long enough to deliver the final words over his shoulder.

“When I come back, I want my house empty. Otherwise Uzair will be here to take you back.”

The door closed behind him with a loud, final thud. Outside, the midnight air was cool against his skin as he stepped into the elevator and left his own penthouse behind.

Zarqa on the other hand, stood alone in the dark bedroom, chest rising and falling hard, lips swollen and wet from the kiss he had broken. 

Her eyes narrowed, the earlier softness gone, replaced by something sharp and cold. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and let out a low, furious laugh that held no humor at all. “You made the mistake of rejecting me, Zaid. You will have to pay the price for that.”

On the other side of the city Uzair was wide awake and looking at the video of Yusra in the market that day beating Fahad and smiling like some lost puppy.

And then send a good night message to Yusra with another number before turning off his phone and keeping it on the side table while closing his eyes.

Meanwhile, Yusra lay on her bed, tossing and turning restlessly. Her mind refused to slow down. Every single thing that had happened today kept replaying in her head over and over again.

When her phone chimed with another notification. She doesn't have to look, who it will be. She knows.

So, without even bothering to look at the message she blocked the number then buried her face in the pillow in frustration and groaned.

"Oh, Allah... what kind of disaster have I dragged into my life?"

For the next few minutes she simply stared at the ceiling and thought. ‘Should I talk to Zara Bhabhijaan?’

The thought appeared almost instantly. Then she remembered. Zara and Zubair had gone to a party and would be back very late.

She sighed heavily then thought, ‘Maybe I should call Aastha.’

The idea barely lasted a second before she rejected it herself.

"No... Aastha already told me I was wrong. She'll only lecture me again."

That night sleep refused to come. She lay flat on her back. A few minutes later she turned onto her stomach, hugging her pillow tightly. Then she kicked the blanket away. Only to pull it back over herself moments later.

She got out of bed twice just to drink water, hoping it would somehow calm her racing thoughts.

It did not.

Instead, she continued pacing around her room like a madwoman, talking to herself.

"Well done, Yusra. Only you could do something like this. You actually called a complete stranger your boyfriend. Brilliant. Congratulations. Now suffer. I was trying to get rid of that Bhadwa Fahad.....and I somehow ended up with someone even worse."

She dropped onto the bed again, covering her face with both hands. "What have I done?"

The next morning, even before her alarm could ring, her phone vibrated with a message from yet another unknown number.

“Good morning, Sweetheart.”

Another message appeared beneath it.

“So... what have you decided?”

That was the last straw. Yusra immediately pressed the call button. The phone rang only once before it was answered.

She didn't even let him say hello and bombarded him.

"What exactly do you think of yourself? You idiot! You complete jerk! You absolute donkey! Asshole! Are you seriously trying to blackmail me? And what's wrong with you? Why do you keep texting me from different numbers? Are you even normal?"

On the other end… Uzair simply listened with an amused smile. Quietly and patiently. He did not interrupt. He did not argue. He did not lose his temper. He simply let her vent every ounce of frustration.

Only after she finally ran out of breath did he speak.

"Finished?"

Yusra blinked. That was it? She had just unloaded everything on him… ...and he wasn't even angry?

"Anything else?” Uzair spoke again, his voice as calm as ever. "I'm willing to listen."

A brief silence followed before he continued.

"Anyway, it's almost time for school. I don't want that Bhadwe’s mother getting even the smallest excuse to trouble you. I've already made sure Bhadwa understands that. But still...I don't want you giving her any opportunity. Now go. Get ready. We'll talk later. Bye, Sweetheart."

And just like that the call disconnected.

Yusra simply stared at her phone in disbelief. "What on earth is happening to my life?"

The moment she reached school, she blocked that number too but it made absolutely no difference.

Throughout the day, messages kept arriving from new numbers.

“Had breakfast?”

“How are your classes going?”

“How many complaints did Zayan get today?”

“Had lunch?”

“Don't forget to eat properly.”

Every number she blocked......another one appeared.

By afternoon she had finally had enough. She switched off her phone completely.

A little while after reaching home, one of the servants approached her. "Didi... there's a call for you on the landline."

Yusra assumed it must be Aastha. She walked over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

A familiar deep voice answered immediately that boiled her blood.

"Why did you switch off your phone?"

Yusra closed her eyes and grabbed her forehead. Not again.

Uzair spoke with the same infuriating calmness. "Look...If you refuse to talk to me over the phone then I'll have to come to your house."

The moment those words left his mouth......Yusra felt every bit of color drain from her face.