Chapter 0022: Petals of the Past
The journey to Multan was quiet—too quiet.
Zara stared out the window of the train, the vast fields of Punjab blurring into streaks of green and gold. In her lap rested her mother's letter, creased from the number of times she had unfolded and read it. Every line echoed like a heartbeat, pulling her further into a past she never truly knew.
Ryan sat beside her, silent but present—his hand never leaving hers.
They arrived just as the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting a reddish hue over the ancient city. Multan breathed with history: shrines, old havelis, and alleyways that remembered more than they revealed.
Their first stop was the address mentioned in one of Malik's documents—a community clinic tucked behind a mosque. The door was locked, the windows dusty. But something caught Zara's eye in the small garden beside the building.
Red tulips.
Vibrant. Blooming in the winter of a forgotten place.
Her heart raced. She stepped toward them slowly, her fingers brushing the petals. There was something beneath the soil—something recently buried.
Ryan helped her dig, hands brushing dirt aside until they uncovered a metal box. Inside: photos, a USB drive, and a notebook. The cover was leather, stitched with initials in faded gold—S.K.
"My mother's journal," Zara whispered.
She opened it carefully. The first page was a poem in Urdu, one her mother used to sing as a lullaby. The rest of the entries detailed escape plans, coded names, and safe houses—all written in a tone of urgency, of someone always on the run.
Then came a date—just a few months ago—and one final entry:
"If they've found me, I won't run anymore. This ends here. If Zara finds this, she'll know where I am. She'll know what to do."
Zara turned to Ryan, her voice trembling. "There's an address here. It's not far."
"Then let's go," he said, already on his feet.
But as they turned to leave, a sharp sound cracked the silence.
A single bullet hit the ground inches from Ryan's foot.
They froze.
From the shadows beyond the garden, a man stepped forward—dark jacket, gloved hands, and eyes that held the cold glint of calculated purpose.
"Zara Khan," he said, aiming his gun with precision, "your mother wasn't the only one good at hiding. But I'm better at finding."
Between Bullets and Truths
Time stopped.
The wind stilled, the city's distant sounds faded, and all Zara could hear was the thud of her heartbeat, hammering against her ribs. The man's gun was steady, eyes locked on her with a hunter's calm.
Ryan instinctively stepped in front of her.
"Don't," the man warned. "I didn't come to kill. Not yet."
Zara's voice was steady despite the panic rising inside her. "Then why are you here?"
"To deliver a message," he said. He tossed a small envelope onto the dusty ground between them. "From someone who once meant something to your mother. He says you're not ready to know everything. But you will be—soon."
Zara frowned. "Who?"
But the man had already taken a step back, disappearing into the shadows as swiftly as he had come.
Ryan picked up the envelope, his jaw tight. "This just keeps getting deeper."
Inside was a note, handwritten in elegant, slanted Urdu.
"Zara, truth is not light—it is fire. You can burn from it, or you can be reborn in it. Come to the old haveli in Dera Ghazi Khan. Alone. Midnight. —A Friend"
Zara exhaled slowly. "Dera Ghazi Khan… that's where my mother was last seen."
Ryan looked at her. "You're not going alone."
"She said alone," Zara whispered. "Whoever this is… they want to test me. They want me to walk the same path my mother once walked."
Ryan clenched his jaw. "Then we go together. Maybe not side by side this time—but I won't be far."
That night, as the stars scattered across the sky like secrets waiting to be uncovered, Zara stood at the edge of a decision that could either close the final chapter of a haunted legacy… or open a door to an even darker truth.
Because some stories weren't passed down.
They were hunted.
The Haveli's Secret
The narrow road to Dera Ghazi Khan stretched ahead like a memory long forgotten—dusty, silent, echoing with things unsaid. Zara sat in the backseat of a rented jeep, hood drawn over her head, eyes fixed on the blur of trees and fading sunset outside. The letter rested in her lap like a heartbeat, pulsing with mystery.
Ryan had followed in a separate vehicle. Close, but not visible. Just as planned.
Midnight approached.
The haveli loomed ahead—ancient, crumbling, with an eerie elegance. Its arches still stood proud against the decades, the carvings whispering of forgotten love and betrayed trust. Zara stepped out, feet crunching softly against the gravel. The heavy wooden doors creaked as she pushed them open.
The silence inside was thick, only broken by her soft footsteps.
A single lantern flickered at the far end of the corridor.
And then—footsteps. Behind her.
Zara spun around. "Who's there?"
A figure emerged from the darkness. A man in his early fifties, salt-and-pepper hair, eyes shadowed with pain. He removed his scarf slowly.
"My name is Qadir," he said quietly. "I was your mother's friend. Once… more than that."
Zara's breath hitched. "You sent the letter?"
He nodded. "Your mother didn't die in an accident. She didn't die at all—not in the way you were told."
The world tilted beneath her.
"What are you saying?"
"She staged her disappearance," Qadir said. "To protect something. Someone."
Zara stared at him, her heart in freefall. "Me?"
"No," he whispered. "Your sister."
Silence.
It crashed into her like a wave, robbing her of air.
"I don't… I don't have a sister," she managed.
"You do," Qadir said, stepping closer. "She's been hidden for years. Because if the world knew who she truly was, they'd tear her apart."
The lantern's light flickered violently, casting long shadows across the walls.
Zara's voice was barely a whisper. "Where is she now?"
Qadir looked at her, something old and sorrowful in his gaze.
"That's why you're here."
From the corridor behind him, the soft sound of footsteps echoed again—deliberate, approaching.
And then… a girl stepped forward. Barely nineteen. Same eyes. Same stubborn jawline. A mirror fractured by time.
Zara couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
The girl smiled nervously.
"Hi," she said. "I've waited a long time to meet you… sister."
The Hidden Truth
Zara stood frozen, her heart thundering in her chest. The woman before her was a stranger, yet her eyes were unmistakable—those same dark depths that mirrored her own. It was as if the universe had decided to tear open her past, exposing the very secrets she'd spent her life running from.
"Sister," the girl repeated, her voice trembling slightly. "I know this is all a lot, but... I need you to understand. You were always meant to find me."
Zara's head was spinning. The words, the revelation, felt like a dream—or a nightmare. She had no sister. No one had ever mentioned a sibling, let alone someone hidden away for years.
"I—I don't understand," Zara managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "How? Why? Why was I never told?"
Qadir, still standing in the background, spoke softly, "Your mother made a choice. She made it to keep you safe. But that choice had consequences."
The girl—her sister, Zara couldn't deny it—took a tentative step forward, her hands trembling. "I'm not your enemy, Zara. I'm not even the person you think I am. My name is Amira. I was hidden because the people after us wanted me dead."
Zara's mind reeled. She tried to process the words, but they felt like jagged pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite solve. "But… why? Why didn't she tell me?"
Amira lowered her eyes, as though ashamed. "She was protecting you. She wanted to keep you safe from the danger that still lurks. Our family's past is complicated. It's... filled with lies and betrayal."
Zara took a shaky step toward her, her eyes locked onto her sister's face. "What do you mean? What's this danger?"
Amira looked at Qadir, who nodded solemnly. "The people your mother was running from were not ordinary criminals. They were part of something far darker, and they wanted her dead. Your mother knew they'd come after her, but she never imagined they would come for you, too."
Zara's breath hitched. "But why me? Why us?"
"Because," Qadir spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, "your bloodline holds something powerful. Something they want."
The weight of his words settled over Zara like a heavy cloak. "What is it? What do they want from us?"
Qadir hesitated, his eyes flickering with fear. "The truth is buried in your family's past, Zara. In your mother's past. And your sister… Amira… is the key. You both are."
Zara felt her pulse quicken. "So what now? What do we do?"
Amira stepped closer, her voice now firm and unwavering. "We have to finish what our mother started. We need to uncover the truth, and we need to do it quickly. They're still watching us. And if we don't act soon, they'll make sure we never get the chance to."
Zara's mind was in turmoil, but one thing became crystal clear. Her life had just shifted again. The puzzle pieces had started to fit together, but there were still many unanswered questions.
"What do we need to do?" she asked, finally.
Amira's eyes darkened with resolve. "We go back to Lahore. We go to the place where it all began."
The mention of Lahore sent a chill through Zara. It was the city she had run from, the place that had haunted her dreams. But now, she knew she had no choice. The truth lay there, buried beneath years of silence and secrets.
"I'm with you," Zara said, determination setting in.
Ryan's voice came from the doorway, soft but steady. "I'm coming with you. Whatever it takes."
Zara looked back at him, her heart heavy with the weight of the journey ahead. "Thank you. But this is something I need to face... with her."
Ryan nodded, a mixture of concern and support in his eyes. "Just be careful."
Zara turned back to her sister, who was now staring at her with a quiet intensity.
"It's time to find the truth," Zara said. "And no matter what, we face it together."
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(To be Continue...)