chapter 7
546 Words
The living room was dimly lit, the glow of the television flickering across the walls. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, broken only by the occasional sound of Zaroon pressing the buttons on the remote, aimlessly flipping through channels.
Zaviyar sat beside him, carefully unwrapping the old bandage from Zaroon’s head. The deep gash on his younger brother’s forehead had started to heal, but the bruises still painted his skin in shades of purple and yellow.
Zaroon winced slightly as the fresh bandage was secured in place. “You really need to be more gentle, bhai.”
Zaviyar didn’t respond immediately. His light brown eyes remained focused on the task at hand, his fingers steady as he adjusted the wrap over Zaroon’s injured arm next.
“You wouldn’t be in this state if you weren’t so careless,” Zaviyar muttered.
Zaroon rolled his eyes. “It was just an accident.”
“You call skipping college and getting hit by a heavy bike an accident?” Zaviyar’s tone was sharp, his jaw tightening.
Zaroon sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Okay, okay. I messed up. But I’m already suffering, aren’t I?” He gestured to his injured leg, still needing the support of a stick to walk. “No need for extra scolding.”
Zaviyar exhaled slowly, his features softening for a brief moment. He didn’t say it, but the sight of his younger brother in pain unsettled him in ways he wouldn’t admit. Zaroon was all he had left—his only remaining family. And the thought of losing him, of not being able to protect him, was unbearable.
Zaroon continued flipping through the channels until he abruptly stopped, his expression shifting.
“Wait a second…” he mumbled, turning up the volume.
The news anchor’s voice filled the room.
“Aamir Qureshi, a well-known businessman, was found dead in a remote forest earlier today. His body was discovered under disturbing circumstances, leading investigators to suspect foul play. Authorities are still looking for suspects…”
Zaroon frowned. “Qureshi? Isn’t that the same guy who is your business partner?”
Zaviyar didn’t react immediately. He simply leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable as his gaze remained fixed on the screen.
The news continued, reporters speculating on possible enemies, business rivals, and unresolved conflicts. But Zaviyar already knew the truth.
His men had been thorough. There would be no evidence. No traces, no loose ends.
Aamir Qureshi was nothing more than a lesson—a warning to those who dared to cross the line.
Zaviyar took a slow breath, finally shifting his gaze to Zaroon. “Yes,” he said simply. “He came to my office.”
Zaroon turned to him, his brows furrowed. “And now he’s dead? That’s… weird, don’t you think?”
Zaviyar offered the faintest of smirks, his voice calm, almost amused.
“The world has a way of taking care of filth like him.”
Zaroon didn’t press further, though a thoughtful expression remained on his face. He continued flipping through the channels, unaware of the storm that lay beneath Zaviyar’s composed exterior.
Because while the world speculated about Aamir Qureshi’s fate, Zaviyar Shah already knew—
Justice had been served.
- Writer
