"Zain Shah… tell me honestly… was Bua Amma right? Is Ziniya really her daughter?"Zarman Shah finally spoke after a long silence, his voice low but heavy.
"I don't know, Bhai… but it feels like Baba doesn't like the people in the annex. Still… have you noticed something? Amma ji, Neelam Begum, she goes there every single day. And you know what else?" Zain leaned in, curiosity flickering in his hazel eyes."In her room… there's a picture of that girl from the annex. And Bhai… she looks exactly like Baba. Same hazel eyes… same jet-black hair… those sharp features… like a reflection."
Zarman's chest tightened.For a moment, his mind refused to believe it. But the thought lingered, stubborn and sharp.
Could it be true?That somewhere in the annex… hidden from the grandeur of the haveli… lived a sister they had never known?
Zarman turned away, staring out of the tall haveli window. The courtyard below buzzed with life, yet for him, everything had gone still.
"If this is true, Zain…" his voice was almost a whisper now, "…then Baba has lied to us our whole lives."
The weight of those words sank between them, heavy, suffocating, and dangerous.
"No, Bhai… how could Baba lie?" Zain Shah quickly interrupted, his tone sharp. "You're just imagining things. And Amma ji always says… suspicion isn't good for the health."
Zarman Shah turned his gaze toward his younger brother. For a moment, the eldest wanted to believe him, wanted to accept that everything was simple, that the annex was just the annex and the people inside were nobodies. But the picture in Neelam Begum's room wouldn't leave his mind. Those hazel eyes… those sharp features…
Zarman's jaw tightened. "Maybe you're right, Zain. Maybe it's just in my head. But tell me… if that girl really is nothing, then why does Amma ji hide her picture like a stolen jewel?"
Zain had no answer. He shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting with the ring on his finger.
Before either of them could speak again, a soft laugh drifted from the courtyard below. A girl's laugh, light, delicate, but out of place. Both brothers turned to the window.
There she was.Ziniya Shah, carrying a jug of water, her dupatta slipping as she hurried across the yard. She didn't belong to their world of polished marble floors and velvet curtains… and yet, something about her presence pulled the air taut.
Zarman's heart stumbled in his chest.Those same hazel eyes. That same sharp grace.
Zain followed his brother's gaze, his curiosity deepening. "Bhai…" he whispered, almost afraid of his own thought. "What if… what if it isn't suspicion?"
Zarman didn't reply. His silence was heavier than words.
That laugh lingered in the air even after she disappeared behind the annex wall.Zarman's fists curled against the window ledge. Something inside him shifted—an unease, a strange pull he couldn't explain.
"Bhai…" Zain's voice was hushed, hesitant. "If you really want to know the truth… there's only one way. We need to see her up close."
Zarman didn't answer. His silence was already permission enough.
—
Later that afternoon, fate decided faster than either of them.
Ziniya, carrying a tray of tea cups for the servants, didn't see the tall figure turning the corner of the veranda. The moment was sudden, her wrist shook, the cups rattled, and before she could stop it, the tray slipped.
Strong hands caught it before it hit the ground.
She looked up.
Zarman Shah.
The eldest son of the haveli.The one everyone obeyed.The one she was never supposed to cross paths with.
For a second, the world froze between them.His eyes, those same hazel eyes she'd seen in the mirror her whole life, locked onto hers. A silent recognition passed, like a secret neither of them had words for.
"You should be careful," Zarman finally spoke, his voice calm but edged with something heavier.
Ziniya lowered her gaze immediately, her heart pounding. "Ji… forgive me, Shah sahib…" she whispered, her tone laced with both respect and fear.
Zarman handed back the tray, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest moment. A storm brewed inside him, but his face gave nothing away.
As she walked away quickly, her dupatta trailing behind, Zain appeared from the shadows, watching his brother's unreadable expression.
"Well, Bhai?" Zain smirked faintly, though his voice was tight. "Still think it's just suspicion?"
Ziniya's P.O.V
Ziniya's hands were still trembling as she set the tray down in the servants' quarters. Her breath came in quick, shallow waves, and no matter how hard she tried, her heartbeat wouldn't slow.
Zarman Shah.The eldest son.The name everyone in the haveli spoke with respect, fear, and admiration.
And today, he had spoken to her.
She pressed her palms together, as though trying to trap the warmth of that brief touch when he had caught the tray. His voice still echoed in her ears, deep, steady, commanding.
"You should be careful."
Careful.As if she wasn't always careful. As if every step of her fourteen years hadn't been taken on thin ice, afraid of cracking under Baba's wrath.
But for the first time… someone had looked at her. Really looked.
His hazel eyes were the same as hers. She had noticed immediately. They weren't just similar, they were a mirror. Sharp, piercing, impossible to ignore.
A shiver ran down her spine.All her life, Baba had told her she didn't belong. That she wasn't his. That she was nothing but a burden, a shadow. And yet… those eyes told another story.
Was it possible?Was Amma right?
Her throat tightened. She wanted to run back to her mother, to bury her face in Neelam Begum's lap and demand answers she had been too afraid to ask. But fear chained her steps.
Because if it was true… if she really was Zartaj Shah's daughter… then why had she been raised like an unwanted secret?
From the courtyard, she heard faint laughter—the brothers again. Their voices carried effortlessly across the walls that separated her world from theirs. She pressed her ear to the window lattice, just for a moment, listening.
She belonged to them… and yet she didn't.A daughter of the haveli who had never been welcomed into it.
Ziniya closed her eyes, whispering to herself, One day, they will know who I am. One day, this haveli will have to accept me.
-------------------------------
The next morning, Ziniya tightened the worn straps of her schoolbag and slipped quietly out of the annex gate.The haveli always seemed to breathe down her neck, its towering walls reminding her that she was caged inside, even when she was allowed out. But the road to her school felt different. Dusty, noisy, filled with carts and chatter, yet strangely freeing.
Her school wasn't fancy like the ones her brothers must have gone to. No shining marble floors, no polished uniforms. It was a middle-class secondary school, walls painted in fading blue, windows half-broken, desks carved with initials of forgotten students. But to Ziniya, it was heaven compared to the silence of the annex.
And most of all, it was where she was.
Aaliya.
Her only friend.Her safe place.
The moment Ziniya entered the classroom, Aaliya's face lit up. She pushed her braid back and waved, patting the seat beside her.
"You're late again," Aaliya teased, her tone soft but playful. "What excuse today? The annex guards wouldn't let you out? Or did your Baba catch you sneaking bread again?"
Ziniya chuckled faintly, sitting down. "Both," she whispered, her voice carrying that familiar tiredness. Then, lowering her head, she added, "Aaliya… something happened yesterday."
Aaliya turned to her immediately, eyes wide, curious. "What?"
Ziniya's hands tightened around her notebook. "I… I ran into him. The eldest one. Zarman Shah."
For a moment, Aaliya froze. She had heard the name a hundred times from Ziniya, the brothers she had never spoken to, the family that pretended she didn't exist.
Her friend leaned closer, whispering like it was a secret too dangerous to let the cracked walls hear. "And? What did he do? Did he… recognize you?"
Ziniya's breath caught. She replayed that moment, the tray slipping, his hands steady, those hazel eyes burning into hers. "I don't know. But when he looked at me… it felt like he already knew."
Aaliya reached for her hand under the desk, squeezing it. "Ziniya, listen to me. One day, this truth will come out. But until then, you have me. You're not alone."
"I don't want them, Aaliya," Ziniya's voice cracked but her eyes burned, darker than Aaliya had ever seen before. "Ama ji keeps saying one day they'll accept me… that the haveli will open its doors. But even if it happens…" she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, "…I'll never forgive them. Never."
Her words fell heavy between them, but Ziniya didn't stop.
"I've spent fourteen years being treated like dirt, like a stranger in my own home. And now, now they want me to wait? To hope? No, Aaliya. I won't waste my life waiting for scraps of love."
She pulled her notebook closer, flipping through the pages filled with scribbled dreams, exam notes, and messy sketches of faraway cities she had never seen but always imagined. London. Manchester. Leeds. Places that looked nothing like the suffocating haveli or its annex.
"One day I'll grab that Commonwealth Scholarship," she whispered, each word like a promise etched into stone. "I'll go to the UK for higher studies. And when I do…" her eyes lifted, fierce and unblinking, "…I'll never come back to Pakistan. Never return to that haveli. They'll regret the day they made me feel unwanted."
Aaliya opened her mouth to speak, to soften the edges of Ziniya's resolve, but the look on her friend's face silenced her. It wasn't the face of a broken girl anymore—it was the face of someone sharpening herself into a weapon.