Raneya stumbled back from the door, heart thundering like a thousand drums inside her chest. The walls around her, the floor beneath her, everything blurred.
Only the voice of her father, once a symbol of safety, now felt like the hiss of a viper. Her stomach churned violently as bile rose in her throat. Her knees weakened. She backed away, her steps trembling, each breath slicing her throat like shards of glass. The weight of betrayal was unbearable.
Her father.
Her own blood.
The man who once held her tiny fingers as she learned to walk—was the very one who had offered her up like a lamb to slaughter.
She had been naïve to believe she had escaped the monster.
She had run from Zaryab's cruelty… only to fall back into the hands of the puppeteer who had orchestrated it all.
The mastermind had been here all along. Him.
Her knees buckled as the realization struck—he had delivered her into Zaryab's hands. Not to a husband… but to a nightmare. The carefully crafted illusion of paternal love shattered, leaving only the hollow mask of a man who had sold his daughter like property, and now… wanted her dead.
A trembling whisper escaped her lips. "You... betrayed me…"
But no one could hear her. She was still outside the room, still invisible in the very house that had raised her.
Raneya took a step back, her pulse thundering like a warning drum in her ears. She had to get out. Now.
Confrontation?
Impossible.
Her throat closed up, terror crushing her chest. This wasn't the time to seek justice. Not yet. She didn't have the strength, not when survival was dangling by a thread. All she could do was run. Again. Gladly she gathered a few of her savings, important belongings and her scholarship letter.
She turned on her heel, her heartbeat a wild gallop. Her mind screamed at her to move faster, to not look back. Every creak of the floorboard beneath her feet felt like a scream, like a death sentence. She didn't know where to go, or who to trust. But she knew one thing—
She couldn't stay here another second.
Not with him under the same roof.
Not after knowing the truth.
She stumbled back into the hallway, her vision swimming with tears, her breath ragged. Her body was still aching, broken from the earlier escape, but her fear numbed the pain. She reached for the front door, her fingers fumbling over the lock like a drunk pianist.
Then—a voice behind her.
"Raneya?"
Raneya froze.
She turned slowly to see her little sister standing at the hallway's edge, half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. Her brows furrowed with concern. "Apa… where are you going?"
Raneya's lips parted, but the words wouldn't come. How could she explain this nightmare to a child still wrapped in the warmth of blind trust?
"I—I just need to step out," she choked. "Don't wake Ammi or Baba."
But Aanya wasn't stupid. She took a cautious step forward. "Apa… is something wrong?"
Raneya hesitated, then bent forward and pressed a kiss to her sister's forehead. "Take care of yourself, okay? And… never trust anyone blindly."
She slipped out of the side gate in the shadow of the early dawn, her feet numb against the biting cold. The streets yawned ahead of her like a grave. The cold night air rushed in, slicing across her skin like knives. But she kept moving—because to stay meant death.
And death wore her father's face.
She didn't wait. She didn't pause.
She ran.
Again.
This time, her heart didn't just race with fear—it pounded with betrayal. She had no destination. No plan. Just the fierce, primal urge to live. Her tears mixed with the wind as she darted into the darkness, the sound of the door slamming shut behind her like a final nail in the coffin of her past.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
She didn't know who she was anymore.
But one thing was certain—
She was done being the pawn.
Back inside, the silence was broken by Aanya's panicked voice.
"She's gone! Apa's gone!"
Her shrill cry pulled Fazeela and Qureshi Sahab into the hallway. Aanya stood there, pale and trembling, pointing at the wide-open back gate.
Fazeela's lips curled in disgust. "Ungrateful wench," she hissed. "We should have never let her in. I knew it. I knew she would only bring dishonor and filth to this house."
Aanya clutched her nightshirt, unsure. "But Ammi… she looked so scared—"
"Enough!" Fazeela's voice was thunder. "Don't you ever call her your sister again. I have one daughter. And it's you."
The words struck Aanya like a slap. She opened her mouth to protest, but then caught the quiet smirk forming on Qureshi Sahab's lips.
He turned away from the door, pulling out his phone, his voice low and devoid of emotion as he spoke into it.
"She's on the move. You know what to do."
No hesitation. No doubt.
Just a command to hunt.
And now, with Fazeela's declaration sealing Raneya's exile, his plan has become easier than ever. No family. No shelter. No protection.
Only prey.
He hung up and looked at Fazeela, who was pacing angrily.
"She's not our daughter anymore," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "She's nothing but a curse."
Qureshi Sahab nodded slowly, a gleam in his eyes. "Then it's time we erased the curse."