Areeba Hussain pulled her dupatta closer around her shoulders as she hurried down the dimly lit Karachi street. The city never truly slept, but at 11:45 p.m., the roads in her neighborhood were eerily quiet. A stray rickshaw sped past, and a distant motorbike revved, but there were no street vendors, no chai dhabas still open.
She sighed. Another late night at the office.
Her office was a small advertising agency in Saddar, where she worked as a graphic designer. The pay was decent, but the hours were brutal. She had argued with her boss that night—he wanted last-minute changes, she wanted a life.
"Stupid agency," she muttered, adjusting the weight of her laptop bag.
As she turned into the alley that led to her apartment, she stopped.
The dogs were there.
A small pack of strays huddled near an overflowing dumpster. Their fur was filthy, their bodies lean. But one stood apart—a skinny, starving creature with dull, matted fur. Its dark eyes locked onto hers, full of something… desperate.
Areeba swallowed.
The other dogs were eating something. It was wrapped in a pink cloth. Torn, stained… and oddly shaped.
Her stomach twisted. What were they eating?
The starving dog whimpered, eyes flicking from her to the others.
Areeba's heart pounded. A part of her wanted to run. Another part—the foolish part—felt guilty.
She hesitated.
"Tomorrow," she whispered.
The dog whined.
She turned and hurried into her apartment.
She didn't see the other dogs stop eating. Didn't notice their heads turning in unison to watch her disappear into the dark.