Arshad’s POV

A few men entered with an old woman who looked no less than a witch. That girl instantly snatched her dupatta, wrapped it tightly around herself, and scooted away from me. Glancing at her, then at them, I quickly wore my shirt. The dangerous-looking woman threw a hateful glare at the innocent-looking girl. The girl started trembling as the woman advanced toward her.

“Plea… please… please…” That witch—no, that old woman—grabbed her arms tightly while the girl began weeping.

“Behuda ladki! Sharam nahi aayi yeh sab karne se pehle! Khauf nahi hua Allah ka! (Shameless girl! Didn’t you feel any shame before doing all this? Didn’t you fear God!?)” The old woman slapped her hard while screaming in her face.

Shocked would be an understatement.

“Arrey, main toh teri shaadi karwa rahi thi, par tu ghar se bhaag aayi iske saath sone! Kitne paise diye hain isne tujhe bol! (I was about to get you married, but you ran away to sleep with him! Tell me, how much money did he give you!?)” She shook the girl violently, clutching both her arms.

“Enough!” I roared. I couldn’t believe the venom in her words. “Yeh keh kya rahi hain aap! Aapka dimaag toh theek hai?! (What the hell are you saying? Are you in your right mind!?)” I didn’t know what came over me, but I pulled the girl behind me, holding her arm protectively.

“Ab tak theek nahi tha, par ab hai! (I wasn’t in my right mind until now, but I am now!) I will kill that whore today!” she screamed, lunging toward the girl, but I spread my arms wide, blocking her path.

“What are you saying? You can’t just abuse her! I’ll call the police if you don’t leave!” I threatened, but the woman only smiled wickedly.

“She is my daughter. I will do whatever I want with her. And the police? Let me tell you, dear, the police and judge of this village are one and the same—the very man she was supposed to marry. Now I’m sure he’ll kill her without hesitation. I’ll be free from her burden. My only regret is losing the money he was going to give me after marrying her.”

I was beyond stunned. My eyes nearly popped out. First, she said this girl was her daughter. Then, she said her would-be husband would kill her. And finally, she admitted she was going to sell her daughter in exchange for money. This wasn’t marriage—this was trafficking of an innocent-looking girl.

“You were going to sell your daughter?” I asked in disbelief, hearing the girl’s sobs clearly.

“Stepdaughter,” she corrected coldly.

I was still trying to process everything when the woman yanked the girl’s hand and dragged her toward herself.

“Chal, ab tere janaaze mein! (Come, let’s go to your funeral!)” she hissed, pulling the girl harshly.

“Amma, jaane dijiye mujhe! Maine kuch nahi kiya! Main nahi jaanti inhe! Yaqeen kijiye mera, main beti hoon aapki! (Mother, please let me go! I didn’t do anything! I don’t know him! Please believe me, I’m your daughter!)” the girl cried, begging desperately.

“Steppdaughter! Because of you, I lost money and my reputation! You better die!” she spat, dragging the girl out of the barn while I stood frozen in disbelief.

I snapped out of it and rushed forward, but two men seized me by the arms, holding me tightly.

“Bring him as well,” the old man who had accompanied that woman ordered. Then they left.

---

Author’s POV

“She is your culprit. Do whatever you want with her!” Isha’s stepmother, Famida, declared, pushing Isha in front of the old man who had intended to buy her.

She told him everything—about Isha running away, about finding her with a man in a half-naked state (yes, those were her words). The old man went insane with rage, as he had wanted nothing more than to burn Isha alive.

“No! I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know him!” Isha cried continuously, begging them to believe her.

“Bring the oil,” the old man ordered in a dreadful voice. Isha’s breath halted. It felt like the air was sucked out of her chest. She remembered how, years ago, a girl had been burned alive for being accused of sleeping with a non-mahram.

“No!” Isha screamed in pure fear and panic. She repeated again and again that she had done nothing, but no one listened. She begged her stepmother, but Famida looked away coldly.

Her terrified eyes fell on the man standing there, as shocked as she was. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening. “Please tell them that we don’t know each other! Please tell them that nothing happened between us! Please do something!” she screamed, shaking Arshad out of his trance.

He began thrashing against the men holding him.

“Leave me! I’ll sue all of you! What the hell are you doing!? Arrey, I don’t know this girl! I don’t even belong to this village! I came here only yesterday for some work! Nothing happened between us! Please, let us go!” Arshad shouted desperately, struggling with all his strength.

“I can tell you’re not from this village, so I won’t blame you. But this girl—she knew she was to marry me, yet she sold her body to you! Such traitors deserve to die so the village learns we won’t tolerate this filth! Pour the oil on her!” the old man thundered.

Isha shook violently in panic, screaming for help.

“Ya Khuda! Madad kar! (Oh God! Help me!)” she cried, looking toward the sky. She begged her Lord, knowing only Allah could save her now.

Something snapped in Arshad. He kicked his captors, shoved them aside with all his might, and ran toward Isha, shielding her with his body.

“What the hell are you doing! This is a crime! She’s just a child! How can you be so cruel! Can’t you see her innocent eyes? Can’t you see she’s just a kid?!” Arshad shouted.

“She isn’t a child! Anyone would pay for her beauty and fragile figure! And that’s exactly what you did! Now step aside and leave!” the old man roared back. Arshad felt sick with disgust, while Isha silently prayed to her Lord to save her.

“We didn’t do anything!” Arshad yelled.

“I saw you shirtless, her without parda, in your arms! What else does that mean?” Famida screeched.

Arshad glared at her but faltered. He didn’t know how to make them believe.

“She is your daughter! Don’t you have a shred of compassion? Even if she’s your stepdaughter, you’re still her mother! How can you let them kill her?”

“She died the moment she ran away from home! She’s nothing but a tainted burden on this family! After this, no one will accept her, and I can’t take care of her for life. It’s better she dies!” Famida shouted, her face twisted with disgust.

Arshad staggered back, horrified at their cruelty. Fear clawed at him too, but he knew one thing—he would never let them kill an innocent girl.

Two men grabbed his arms again, dragging him away. Startled, he began struggling, but they held him tight.

The old man signaled, and his men moved toward Isha, who stood frozen, terror in her eyes.

“Baji! Baji!” Najma, her stepsister, ran toward her, but her mother restrained her.

“No! Amma, let me go! Leave my baji!” Najma screamed, but Isha remained paralyzed, watching them approach. She closed her eyes.

Ya Khuda (Oh Lord)! I trust in You. I know You will do what’s best for me. If death is better than life, I won’t complain. My Rab (Lord), I trust in You. Just give me the strength to bear the pain until my soul departs.

Isha prayed in her heart, clutching her kameez tightly as she felt liquid being poured over her.

“No! Amma, please save her! My baji didn’t do anything! Please, Amma, save her! Please, have mercy on my baji! Somebody, please save her!” Najma screamed, her cries piercing the air, but no one dared step forward. Everyone was too afraid of that old man.

Arshad saw one of them coming with a matchbox. His eyes widened, and he felt his breath stop. He looked at that little girl and felt his eyes burn. He was always a soft-hearted man who couldn’t bear to see an innocent in pain. And that girl! She was too innocent for this filthy village. Her eyes were closed, and she tried to calm herself, but he could see how badly she was trembling. Her tears streamed endlessly down her beautiful face.

Ya Allah, what should I do!

I can’t let them kill her!

I can never forgive myself!

Allah, please show me a way!

Allah, please save this girl!

As that man stepped closer to Isha, Arshad’s heart trembled violently in his chest. With all his strength, he yanked the men who were holding him and ran toward Isha. Standing in front of her as her shield, he screamed,

"I will take her with me! I will take her!! You don’t have to keep her in this village! I will take her! Please don’t kill her! Please!" Arshad cried out in utter panic.

Isha opened her eyes and saw her savior—someone who didn’t even know her, yet was fighting for her, trying to protect her from this cruel world. But she knew he couldn’t.

Famida stared at the desperate man who looked wealthy and from a big town. An evil plan flickered through her mind, and a smirk tugged at her lips. She walked toward them, and as Najma’s mother loosened her grip, Najma ran toward her baji.

"So you want to take her?" Famida asked, making Arshad nod hastily.

"Kis rishte se? (What rights do you have to take her with you?)" she demanded. Arshad only stared at her, confused.

"You don’t want to keep her in this village, then let me take her away," Arshad said desperately.

"You can’t take her because you don’t have any relation to do that! We would rather kill her than let her go with a na-mahram," Famida spat.

That old man stepped forward angrily. "Famida! Why are you wasting our time! Let them finish that whore. No need to talk!"

"Yes, Bhaijaan," Famida replied, glancing back at Arshad. "Now go and let us finish that whore."

"I won’t let her die!" Arshad yelled through gritted teeth, his determination so sharp that Isha felt chills run down her spine.

"Okay, fine."

"What are you talking about, Famida!?" the old man shouted.

"Wait, Bhaijaan," Famida said and walked to Isha. Grabbing her roughly by the arms, she dragged her in front of Arshad. "You have two choices. Either let her die—or marry her and give us 10 million."

Arshad felt the air sucked out of him. His heart dropped to his stomach, making him sick.

"Wha… what?"

"What are you saying, Famida!?" the old man roared, but she glared at him and stepped closer.

"She is my daughter. I can do whatever I want."

"I won’t let you do this! Don’t forget who I am!" he barked back.

"You don’t forget who I am," Famida hissed. Leaning closer, she whispered, "You know I know everything about you—about your crimes. So stay quiet if you don’t want people to kick you out of this village and hand you over to the police. They’re silent only because they think you’re doing this for the village’s betterment."

His eyes widened in fear, and he fell silent.

Famida turned toward Arshad, who stood frozen, while Isha kept her head lowered in shock.

"So, tell me—what’s your decision?"

"I can’t marry her. I’m already married," Arshad admitted.

Isha clenched her fists. She saw her death written before her. There was no way to save herself now. They had given him two choices, and since he was married, he couldn’t marry her—so indirectly, he had chosen for her to die.

"So what?" Famida asked coldly. "You can make her your second wife."

At this, both Isha and Arshad stared at her in disbelief.

"Amma, please…"

"You shut up, whore!" Famida snarled, slapping Isha hard across the face. Isha stumbled back, but Arshad caught her by the hand.

"You have only one minute. Make your choice. Either accept her as your second wife or leave from here without making it difficult for us," Famida declared, folding her arms.

A storm raged inside Arshad’s mind. His love… his wife… his perfect life with Sofia. His deep love for her. How could he betray her? He loved her too much. If he married Isha, he would lose Sofia. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could ever share her husband. She would never tolerate such a thing. She would leave him! No, he couldn’t lose her. But what about Isha?

His eyes shifted to Isha—she was already staring at him with tear-filled eyes. He couldn’t let her die. He couldn’t be the reason for her death. But he couldn’t lose Sofia either.

"You don’t have to do this," Isha whispered, her lips trembling with a broken smile. She could see his inner battle, the love he held for his wife shining in his tear-filled eyes at just the thought of marrying her.

Arshad drew in a shaky breath. Courage flickered inside him. Yes. I don’t have to do this, he told himself. Why should I ruin my life for someone I don’t even know? I didn’t do anything wrong, so why accept this punishment?

He turned his back on her, and a single tear slipped down Isha’s cheek.

"Fine then. Go from here," Famida sneered, gesturing for her men to continue.

"NO! BAAJI! BAAJI! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS! BAAJI! AMMA, PLEASE!" Najma screamed as her mother dragged her away again.

Isha closed her eyes as fresh tears rolled down her face.

"Ya Allah," she whispered faintly.

And as if those words were meant for him, Arshad heard her innocent plea. A helpless girl begging her Lord for help.

"I’m sorry, Sofia," Arshad whispered, tears sliding down his cheeks. He closed his eyes tightly, fists clenched.

He realized their destiny had already been written.

★★★