Past
All that mattered was that she was safe.
The thought struck even as pain ripped through his shoulder, hot and merciless. His breath faltered, and before his knees gave out, his gaze searched for her. There she was standing, untouched, her wide eyes fixed on him in fear. Relief hit like a final gift. She was safe.
Then his body collapsed, the world shattering into screams, rushing feet, and the blur of lantern light. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
Her eyes stayed with him. Warm, trembling, yet holding a fragile spark he could not name. He remembered their glow of joy only an hour earlier, when she had admired a painted fan. His last thought clung to her like a prayer: Stay safe.
Darkness pressed down, heavy and inescapable.
Somewhere through the ringing in his ears, his bodyguards shouted, clearing a path in panic. One gripped his shoulders while another barked for a car and a doctor, their usual control breaking under the chaos. But the pull of blackness was stronger.
Present
"So… are we really going?" Sarah asked, glancing at Aniya, her fingers tapping nervously on the armrest of the cab.
Aniya nodded, her face lighting up with sheer excitement, and both of them burst into screams of joy. The cab driver shot them a look somewhere between disbelief and annoyance, but the girls didn't even notice. Their laughter filled the small space, bouncing off the leather seats, blending with the hum of the city outside.
At last, they reached Lahore Airport, where their parents were already waiting, standing under the bright glow of terminal lights. Sarah's heart fluttered as she hugged her mother, feeling the familiar warmth mixed with the ache of impending distance. She breathed in the scent of her mother's dupatta one last time, the comfort of home stitched into every thread. For a second she thought about saying I don't want to go. But she bit it back. She wasn't leaving to run away; she was leaving to become someone. She hugged her dad and brother; her safe place. Aniya squeezed her father's hand, her long black hair catching the light, shimmering like threads of night.
"My dream," Aniya whispered, her voice barely audible, her kohl-lined eyes shining like stars. Sarah smiled, brushing a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. Her caramel-colored eyes mirrored both excitement and a shadow of nervousness.
For a long moment, they simply stood there, absorbing the weight of what they were about to do. Sarah thought about the years of late-night study sessions, the pressure, the excitement, and the bittersweet reality of leaving home. She clutched her passport like a talisman and whispered a quiet prayer for courage.
The flight to Istanbul was long, the cabin dim and humming. Sarah stared out of the oval window, watching the lights of Pakistan shrink beneath her, the clouds glowing faintly in the rising sun. She sent a quick text to her mother, her fingers trembling slightly, before closing her eyes for a few stolen minutes of rest.
When they finally arrived at Istanbul Airport, the city sprawled around them like a promise. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts and strong Turkish coffee from nearby stalls. Sarah inhaled deeply, letting the scent anchor her in the moment.
"I'm manifesting peace," she said softly, glancing around in awe at the bustling crowd, the elegant airport architecture, and the mix of languages floating through the air. It was half a joke, half a prayer. Sarah always did this—naming the thing she needed most in that moment. Peace. Courage. Strength. She whispered those words like talismans.
"And I'm manifesting joy," Aniya replied, a grin spreading across her face as she tugged Sarah toward the baggage claim.
As Sarah was absorbed in a quick text to her mother, she barely noticed a man approaching them. Tall, with messy dark hair and piercing brown eyes, he exuded a quiet intensity that made her stomach tighten.
"So, where are you girls from?" he asked, his voice polite but cautious.
Sarah blinked in surprise at her friend's ease, feeling a twinge of admiration and envy.
"We're from Pakistan. I'm Aniya Khan, this is Sarah Faheem," she added.
Aniya, ever confident, stepped forward. "I'm from Turkey. You can call me Tayyep," he said smoothly.
The man smiled politely. "Nice to meet you."
Before Sarah could respond, another figure approached—taller, sharper, with an unreadable expression. She felt a strange, familiar tug inside her, as if she had seen him somewhere before but couldn't remember where.
Tayyep introduced him casually. "Ladies, this is Mehmet Ibrahim—my friend."
Mehmet's eyes flicked briefly toward Sarah, assessing, calculating. He said nothing, and his silence felt heavier than words.
His eyes seemed too sharp, too knowing, like he was looking at more than just a stranger. It made Sarah uneasy.
"So you're here for your master's?" Tayyep asked, eager to lighten the tension.
Aniya began enthusiastically, but Mehmet cut in, his voice sharp and cold. "You're here for the sake of a study visa, ruining our country's reputation, aren't you?"
Sarah froze. For a heartbeat, words clogged her throat. Her instinct told her to stay quiet, to keep her dignity, but the heat rose too fast to swallow.
"We're here only to study," Sarah shot back, her voice rising with a mix of fear and fury. "And one more thing we are from a reputable country, and we don't use such tactics."
Mehmet's gaze sharpened. "Then tell us about these tactics you claim not to use," he challenged.
Tayyep stepped forward quickly, clearing his throat. "We should go," he said firmly, tugging Mehmet away.
Mehmet's phone buzzed. He stepped aside, his jaw tightening as he muttered something sharp in Turkish before ending the call.
"Welcome to Istanbul, Khatun," Tayyep whispered softly as they walked away, a touch of embarrassment in his tone.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, a very warm welcome," she muttered sarcastically, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"I manifested peace, but look what we got," she whispered to Aniya, her voice tight with suppressed laughter. Humor. That was how she survived every sting. If she could laugh, even bitterly, it meant she hadn't lost.
"Forget it," Aniya said, trying to lighten the mood, looping her arm through Sarah's as they headed toward the cab.
The ride to their hostel was quiet except for the soft hum of the engine. Sarah gazed out the window at the sprawling city, the streets glowing with neon lights and the faint aroma of food stalls. She clenched her hands in her lap, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest.
I just hope I never meet someone like him again, she thought, her fingers brushing against her notebook, where she had jotted down her goals and dreams for this new life.
And yet, deep down, a part of her couldn't help but feel that Istanbul had already begun weaving its own story, one that involved him.