Swapped Fate

That night, rain was falling, and only the streetlights illuminated the deserted roads. Mehar was walking barefoot in the middle of the road. Her henna-covered feet ached from walking so much, but she cared little. Her heavy white-gold anklets irritated her with every step. Looking back every now and then, she slowed her pace when she saw that no one was following her. But that was her undoing. She held up her traditional Afghan dress with both hands, but carrying its weight for so long was becoming difficult. Her traditional white-gold Kochi jewelry added even more weight to her already heavy dress. The heavy headpiece and choker were disturbing her to no end. She desperately wanted to take them off, catch her breath, and fill her exhausted lungs with air. But she knew she had to keep running. She had been running for an hour, and now her exhausted body could barely manage to walk. The rain had drenched her completely, making it even more difficult to walk in her heavy dress. But she had no choice. She had to keep moving. After tripping several times, she managed to walk a few miles away. Fear gnawed at the pit of her stomach as she found herself walking through a completely deserted area in the middle of the night. Mehar knew that it wouldn't be difficult for her family to find her. And if the Aurakzai family learned about her escape, finding her wouldn't be difficult for them either, even if she hid in another part of the world. Still, she wanted to run. Finding a tree, she sat beside it and took deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves and catch her breath. How had her life changed so drastically? She was still in shock. "Every change hurts a little. Sometimes, it's the struggle of waking up; sometimes, it's the need to sleep; and sometimes, it's the pain of falling in love. This is a huge change in your life, dear. I know. But other than praying for you, I can't do anything else." She remembered her mother's weak and helpless words. She was forgiving. Her heart was big, and she didn't know how to give up on people because she always chose to believe the good in those she loved. That was until she had been hurt too many times. Her choices had been snatched away from her, leaving burning holes in her heart. She was fierce. She was strong; she was beautiful in every way. She had a pure Pashtun face with sharp features and green eyes. Her eyes were soft yet gentle, the kind that could tear someone apart if they allowed themselves to get lost in them. She was a mess of gorgeous chaos, and anyone could see it in her eyes. She had a fair complexion, long chocolate-brown hair, an average height, and a slim figure. Her outspoken nature sometimes landed her in trouble, but she cared little. After all, she was her father's princess. At least, that was what she had believed for twenty years of her life. She had been betrayed! She had been stabbed by her own family a hundred times, yet they acted as though they were the ones bleeding. And the worst part was that nobody noticed her heart bleeding to death. Mehar was a strong young woman. She would rise like a phoenix from the ashes of her life and become the heroine of her own legend. Mehar rubbed her hands together, trying to find some warmth. Her heart was pounding with the fear of being caught again. Were those tears racing down her cheeks, or were they merely droplets of rain? Her red, swollen eyes held the answer. Mehar hissed when she leaned her back against the tree. The nagging pain reminded her of the scars her family had left on her body. It also reminded her that if they caught her again, they would beat her just as they had before. Her lips somehow found the strength to curve into a smile as she remembered the good life she had enjoyed in London just a few months ago. How had she been thrown into this miserable situation so suddenly? Looking at her henna-covered hands, tears filled her eyes. She cursed the day she had met the man responsible for her misery. The man who had brought her to this point. She couldn't forget that fateful day at the election party when she had seen that Lucifer in the most handsome face, staring directly at her. Those ebony eyes had held her captive, and the power of his family had made it nearly impossible for the Durrani family to refuse him anything. She couldn't forget the malicious smirk on his face as he stared at her so intensely that she had shivered with fear. Muhammad Aaban Aurakzai A name with many meanings, but a face that could be described in just one word. Handsome! Devilishly handsome and dangerously threatening to her life. She still remembered his intense ebony eyes, his elegantly straight nose, prominent cheekbones, and sharp, strong jaw dusted with slight stubble. His neck was thick and muscular, his frame strong, intimidating, and well-built. He wore a formal black suit with a white dress shirt, its first two buttons left open. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his hands rested in his pockets as he stood there, looking powerful and intimidating. The aura surrounding him radiated sheer power. The sight of him had made her weak in the knees. Her heart had recognized, in that very second, just how dangerous he was to her. He had smirked menacingly and tilted his head, looking her up and down. His gaze had frightened her, leaving her feeling dangerously exposed. She had been wearing an elegant, floor-length maroon salwar suit, her long hair left open but partially hidden beneath the loose veil covering her head. Her face had been adorned with minimal makeup, consisting only of mascara and nude lipstick. Her slim figure and innocent yet beautiful face had been difficult for Aaban to ignore. Something about her had stirred a desire within him to possess her. At that exact moment, he knew he wanted her. And she knew she needed to hide. Standing up, Mehar resumed her endless walk, realizing that the rain showed no signs of stopping. Clutching her veil securely over her head, she continued her journey. After walking for a few more minutes, she caught sight of a car. Fear shot through her spine. Her legs buckled, and with trembling feet, she hurried toward the nearest tree. But before she could reach it, a hand shoved her, sending her crashing to the ground with a thud. Rubbing her head, Mehar winced in pain. Her vision blurred from hunger and exhaustion, but she struggled to gather what little strength she had left. She looked around and saw dark silhouettes standing a few feet away from her. She began panting, even the simple act of breathing becoming difficult. Knowing all too well who they were, she crawled backward, only to be yanked back into place. She looked up and saw her brother gripping her hair. His eyes blazed with fury, and his iron grip dug painfully into her scalp. "You did it again? You dared to humiliate us in our society?" Usman Durrani seethed through clenched teeth, holding her hair tightly in his fist. Mehar wailed in pain. "I will do it again if you leave me alive! I will never bow my head to your stupid sense of honor. I will never marry that criminal. I—" He didn't let her finish. He slapped her across the face. Her head spun, and the air was knocked from her lungs. Umar, her second brother, clenched his fists as he watched his younger sister's miserable condition. "This time, you've crossed the line, Mehar. You defied our decision when we told you that you were getting married into the Aurakzai family. But this time, you ran away on your own henna night?" Usman hissed. He pulled her hair tighter, making her wince in pain as she clenched her teeth to hold back her sobs. "Pl-please don't do this to me," she pleaded. But her sentence was cut short when Usman shoved her into his car and locked the door. Mehar banged on the door several times, crying miserably, but her voice was swallowed by the midnight silence. She felt deprived of her rights. The darkest night stretched on, bringing endless misery and the terrifying realization of the dark future awaiting her. It was the longest night of her life. She looked up at the dark sky and sent a silent question into the vastness above, asking for a change in her circumstances, for someone to help her. Looking around, Mehar realized that she was trapped. She gazed at the shining moon and imagined it giggling at her misery as its pale light fell upon her, accompanied by the countless stars scattered across the sky. Her life had changed the moment he had laid eyes on her. The large, dark doors of Durrani Villa made her heart stop as the car entered the property she had managed to escape only a few hours earlier, after her henna ceremony had ended and she had finally found some privacy. Her heart pounded painfully with fear. It felt as though someone were squeezing her ribs, making every breath hurt. Her drenched body was covered in sweat despite the cold rain. The car stopped in front of the lavish villa, which was decorated with fairy lights and flowers. Durrani Villa. It stood tall, exquisite, and proud. The villa had belonged to the Durrani family for generations. Its grandeur had been preserved, and its architecture remained elegant and timeless. But nothing about that night felt peaceful. Even the wind seemed to whisper warnings into her ears. Usman dragged her into the villa's enormous hall. She stumbled several times but managed to remain on her feet. Looking around, she saw her father and uncles watching her. Anger burned in their eyes, although she could also see a few gazes softened by pity and embarrassment. They looked ashamed that they hadn't been able to save her from this situation, yet none of them stepped forward to help. Mehar looked at her father. He had dark green eyes, white stubble, and white hair. His body was tense and rigid as he stood tall, staring directly at her. He wore a white salwar kameez with a light-brown shawl wrapped around his shoulders. His hands were clasped behind his back as he looked at his youngest, most rebellious daughter. He loved Mehar. But right now, she was standing between him and his honor, threatening the reputation he had spent years building. The Durrani family had lost the elections to the more powerful Aurakzai family, who had managed to secure several seats in the government. The results had created chaos and stirred unrest among ordinary people trying to live their lives. The situation had worsened when the elder son of the Aurakzai family had laid eyes on Mehar and asked for her hand in marriage. Abdul Rasheed Durrani knew the power the Aurakzai family possessed, as well as the legal and illegal businesses they controlled. He knew that if he refused their proposal, his political party and his family could face serious consequences. The father in him feared for Mehar's future. But the politician in him had other priorities. He had to make a decision that would protect his family and strengthen his political position. And for that, he was willing to sacrifice his daughter's happiness. Mehar noticed the sadness in his eyes. His posture was tense, and his face looked strained. He stared at her as though the entire world were waiting for her next breath, his gaze intense enough to make her heart pound and her palms sweat. Then, through his stern features, his expression suddenly changed. His face twisted with anger and fury. His eyes narrowed, and Mehar's breath caught in her throat. She froze. She knew there was something deeper beneath his anger, something she couldn't understand, something that made her mind go blank with fear and pain. "I never expected my own daughter to slap me so hard across the face." Abdul Rasheed Durrani paused, looking at his daughter as she trembled like a leaf. She was completely drenched, her bare feet covered in mud, and her clothes filthy from the road. He felt a pang of pain in his heart. But just as quickly as it appeared, the feeling vanished before it could take hold. He couldn't afford to weaken his resolve after giving his word. In his world, backing out of an agreement was a matter of dishonor. Muhammad Aaban Aurakzai had expressed an interest in the youngest daughter of the Durrani family. Muhammad Hakeem Aurakzai had found his son's unusual interest intriguing. He knew that Aaban had never been interested in women; his ambitions had always revolved around power. This was the first time he had shown an interest in a girl from another tribe. The Aurakzai family was far more powerful and internationally renowned than the Durrani family. Muhammad Hakeem knew that if he used his influence, the Durranis wouldn't stand a chance against him. He viewed the proposed marriage as a political alliance, one that would give his family even greater influence. Abdul Rasheed Durrani, unable to find another way out and watching his political party grow weaker, hadn't hesitated when Muhammad Hakeem Aurakzai asked for Mehar's hand for his son. At that exact moment, Abdul Rasheed had realized how much this alliance could benefit him and his political party. There was no way he would refuse. After all, the arrangement would strengthen his position. "How do you intend to justify this?" His authoritative voice shook everyone in the room. Mehar lowered her gaze, unable to look at her father. She knew that whenever he became angry, he turned into a different man. From beneath her lashes, she glanced at her aunts, sister, and stepmother. They looked at her with pity, but none of them moved to help her. Her biological mother's marriage to her father had also been a political arrangement. Tribal and political marriages were nothing unusual among powerful families. But Mehar had never wanted to be traded like a bargaining chip. She had never wanted her life to be decided by people who cared more about power than her happiness. Yet life had already decided her fate. "Baba, please..." She tried to plead with her father one last time, her face stained with tears. But he raised his hand, signaling her to stop. Her words froze in her mouth, and she fell silent. "I have listened to you enough, Mehar, but not this time. You have made a grave mistake by humiliating me. You should consider yourself fortunate that this disgraceful news hasn't spread yet. But that doesn't justify the pain you've caused me." His voice grew harsher. "You know perfectly well that we need this alliance, yet you didn't even consider helping your father during such a difficult time. I am deeply ashamed of you." He bellowed in anger. The moment his guards informed him that Mehar had run away after the guests left late that night, he had been consumed by fury. He had been ready to kill her with his bare hands. Her elder brother had raised his hand against her before when she had refused to marry him. But this time, the circumstances were different. Abdul Rasheed looked back at Mehar, who was silently crying and trembling with fear. "In the early hours of the morning, you will perform your nikah with Muhammad Aaban Aurakzai." His words struck her like thunder. She felt as though her soul were leaving her body. Numb. She wasn't sad anymore. She was numb, and somehow, she knew that numbness was worse. When the body has too much to bear, it shuts down in its own quiet way, retreating inward and waiting for a better time. It leaves a person numb, barely alive, and unable to feel anything beyond the weight of their suffering. She buried her sadness beneath her skin instead of letting it escape, but the pain continued to grow in her veins. At that moment, she wished she were a little girl again, able to climb into her mother's lap and cry until the hurt disappeared. But that was impossible. And this was only the beginning. "Aaban." She whispered his name with pure hatred. The man to whom she would be bound within a few hours. The man she believed was responsible for her misery. The man who had tarnished her life in a matter of seconds. The night seemed to grow longer, more painful, and more unbearable. But what she didn't know was that this was only the beginning of her end. Meanwhile... "She tried to run away after the henna ceremony, but Usman Durrani brought her back." Aaban's jaw clenched. His powerful body stiffened, every muscle tightening as he absorbed the unpleasant news. His ebony eyes burned with fury and rage. He rose from his chair and turned toward the messenger who had delivered the report. He felt humiliated and insulted. She had rejected him. And she had dared to do so with such a disgraceful little stunt. For a moment, silence filled the room. Then his lips curved into a slow, devilish smirk. "That little birdie thinks she can fly away with her little wings." His eyes darkened with amusement. "Interesting." The smirk on his face grew more dangerous as an unspoken promise settled in his gaze. Ending her beginning and beginning her end.