Scene 1: Morning Calm at the Hospital
The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of City General Hospital's private ward, bathing the room in a warm golden hue. Haroon lay resting comfortably against the pillows, a faint but steady smile on his face. The constant hum of machines had become background music to their relief.
Maryam sat beside him, arranging the fruit basket a nurse had brought earlier. Little Irfan and Ubaid stood near the bed, holding balloons — one green, one white — gifts from Rimsha to celebrate their father's recovery.
Haroon looked at his sons with a tender gaze.
"So… who prayed the most for me?" he teased softly.
"Me!" both boys shouted at once, and everyone laughed — the first laughter in days.
Just then, the door creaked open. Inspector Haseeb entered the room in his crisp uniform, his face serious but respectful. His badge gleamed under the fluorescent light.
"Assalamualaikum," he greeted quietly.
"Walaikum assalam," Haroon and Maryam responded together.
"Sir," Haseeb said, stepping closer, "I need to discuss something important… privately."
Maryam understood immediately. "Of course," she said gently, standing up. "Come on, kids. Let's get some snacks from the cafeteria."
As she left the room with the children, Rimsha and Imran followed her outside. Haroon motioned toward the door. "Lock it, Haseeb."
The tone of command was still there — faint but firm.
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Scene 2: The Secret Meeting
The air inside the room thickened with tension as the door clicked shut. Haroon adjusted himself upright, pain flickering briefly across his face. Haseeb stood close, lowering his voice.
"Sir, we've got confirmation," he began. "Juginder Singh has confessed. Vijay is dead, Yashwant is in critical condition under custody. But before losing consciousness, Yashwant mentioned something disturbing."
Haroon's eyes sharpened. "What did he say?"
Haseeb took a deep breath. "He mentioned an insider — someone passing information from within. A local contact who was giving them movement updates about the bank's cash transfers and security shifts."
Haroon's hand tightened around the bedsheet. "An insider?"
"Yes, sir. And not a small one. Someone from inside the system. The name hasn't come out yet, but intelligence suspects it's linked with a politician's aide. Possibly… someone connected to the funding channel from across the border."
Haroon's brow furrowed deeply. "That explains their accuracy. They knew the cash van timings exactly."
"Exactly, sir," Haseeb agreed. "We're trying to trace the phone used for coordination. But I need your input — you handled the previous cross-border smuggling case. The pattern looks similar."
Haroon thought silently for a moment, his mind racing back to the reports he had filed months ago — the same code names, the same coordination style.
"It's the Shankar Network," Haroon said finally. "They're using local sleeper contacts under business covers — real estate, electronics, NGOs. Their pattern never changes."
Haseeb nodded, scribbling quick notes in his pad. "Sir, once you're fit, the department will want your written statement and guidance. DSP Rana also requested a briefing."
Haroon leaned back, sighing softly. "I'll cooperate, but this information — keep it classified. No written memos yet. If there's a mole, he'll be alerted."
"Yes, sir," Haseeb replied firmly. "Complete discretion."
Haroon's voice softened but held authority. "You're a good officer, Haseeb. Don't let this case fall through cracks. If there's a traitor among us… I want him exposed."
Haseeb nodded, eyes gleaming with determination. "You have my word, sir."
A brief silence fell — only the beeping of the heart monitor filled the room.
Then Haroon extended his hand weakly. "For Pakistan," he said quietly.
Haseeb clasped it firmly. "For Pakistan, sir."
As the officer left the room, he glanced back once — at the man who had risked his life for duty — and silently vowed to finish what Haroon had started.
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Scene 3: The Family Returns
Moments later, the door opened again. The air shifted from secrecy back to warmth. Maryam entered first, holding a tray with tea and sandwiches. The children followed, chatting excitedly, while Imran and Rimsha carried some juice bottles.
"Looks like you both had some serious business," Rimsha said half-jokingly as she entered.
Haroon smiled faintly. "Just official talk. You know how police life is."
Maryam placed the tray near his bedside. "Now enough of official things. Doctor said you must eat something before taking medicines."
Haroon nodded obediently, a hint of humor returning. "Yes, ma'am. I'll behave."
Irfan climbed carefully onto the edge of the bed, looking at his father with pride. "Papa, when you were hurt, we prayed every night! I even asked Allah twice!"
Haroon chuckled, touching his hair gently. "Twice? Then Allah must've listened because of you."
Ubaid added quickly, "And I told everyone in school that my papa is a real hero — he fights bad people!"
Maryam smiled lovingly at them. "Yes, he does — but now he needs to rest so he can fight again."
Haroon laughed softly, the sound filling the room with life. "No more fights for a while, hmm? Maybe I'll just be your homework inspector instead."
The kids laughed, and even Imran joined in. "Be careful, kids. He's more strict than your teachers," Imran teased.
Rimsha smiled warmly, watching the family moment. For days, the house of fear and tears had turned again into a place of smiles and dua.
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Scene 4: The Laughter Hour
As the clock struck noon, the hospital room had turned almost homely. Maryam spread a small towel on the bedside table, serving sandwiches and tea. Ubaid began narrating how he helped Irfan memorize his tablo lines for Independence Day.
"So I told him," Ubaid said proudly, "when you wave the flag, don't drop it! But he waved it so hard the stick almost hit Saba miss!"
Everyone burst into laughter, and Irfan covered his face, blushing. "That was an accident!"
"Hmm," Haroon said teasingly, "my little soldier needs better training."
Irfan grinned, puffing his chest. "Next time I'll do perfect, papa!"
Maryam looked at both of them and whispered, "Just promise no one will wave the spoon at the doctor next time."
Even Haroon laughed, his eyes glistening with happiness — a happiness that had seemed so distant a few days ago.
Rimsha, sipping tea, said softly to Maryam, "Aapi, seeing him smile again feels like Eid before time."
Maryam nodded, emotion welling in her chest. "Allah listens, Rimsha. When the dua comes from a broken heart, He never rejects it."
There was a pause — brief, peaceful, sacred.
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Scene 5: Haroon's Reflection
Later, as everyone chatted and the children played with balloons near the window, Haroon's gaze drifted quietly toward the ceiling.
He wasn't thinking about pain anymore — he was thinking about purpose.
Every case he'd handled, every risk he'd taken — it was all for these faces around him. His family, his country, his duty.
He whispered softly, almost to himself, "Ya Allah, give me strength to stand again — not just on my feet, but for justice."
Maryam heard him and placed her hand over his. "He will, Haroon. You always stood for truth. And Allah never leaves those who protect others."
Haroon turned to her, his eyes shining with gratitude. "You've always been my courage, Maryam. Without you, I couldn't face any of this."
She smiled, tears brimming but held back. "And you're my pride. You've given our sons an example that no book can teach."
Their eyes met in quiet understanding — two souls, strengthened by trials, bound by faith.
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Scene 6: The Visit Ends
By early afternoon, the nurse entered politely. "Visiting time is almost over, please."
Rimsha began packing the empty cups. Ubaid and Irfan rushed to hug their father.
"Papa, can we come again tomorrow?"
Haroon smiled. "Of course. But no running in the hospital corridors this time."
Irfan nodded solemnly. "Promise!"
Maryam stood, fixing Haroon's blanket. "I'll come back in the evening after your medicines."
Haroon looked at her tenderly. "Take some rest too, Maryam. You've been awake for days."
She smiled faintly. "Rest can wait. Seeing you fine is enough for me."
Imran placed a hand on Haroon's shoulder. "Don't worry about anything outside, bhai. I'll handle the paperwork at the station till you're fit."
"Thank you, Imran," Haroon said with brotherly warmth. "And take care of Rimsha and the kids."
As they left the room, the nurse dimmed the lights slightly. Haroon lay back, watching the door close, a soft peace settling in his heart.
Outside, Haseeb's words echoed in his mind — there's a mole inside the system.
He closed his eyes and whispered, "Then the fight isn't over yet."
But for now — surrounded by love, faith, and prayers — he finally allowed himself to rest.
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End of Chapter