Beyond the Veil

Chapter 8. Breaking The Silence

_16 Years Ago, Karachi, Pakistan_

The warm evening sunlight streamed through the windows of the cosy dinner table, casting a golden glow on Aiza's eager face. She was 12 years old, her dark hair tied in a ponytail, her bright eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Abbu, I want to solve mysteries like Sherlock Holmes!" Aiza exclaimed, her voice filled with conviction.

Tariq smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's wonderful, beta! You have a keen mind."

Jamila, Aiza's mother, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "And a brave heart, Aiza. Never lose that."

Kamran, Aiza's 10-year-old brother, chuckled, his freckled face lighting up with mischief. "Aiza's already solving pretend cases in her head!"

Aiza playfully rolled her eyes. "Shh, Kamran! You're ruining my detective reputation."

The room filled with laughter and the aroma of Jamila's homemade biryani.

_10 Years Ago, Karachi, Pakistan_

Aiza, 18, walked home from the library, lost in thought. The warm evening sun cast long shadows across the streets. She turned onto her street, noticing the eerie silence.

As she approached her house, she heard muffled sounds – shouts, screams, and gunfire. Her heart racing, Aiza quickened her pace.

"No, no, no..." she whispered, her mind racing with fear.

She burst through the gate and sprinted toward the front door. It was ajar, hanging off its hinges.

Aiza's breath caught in her throat. She pushed open the door, calling out:

"Ammi! Abbu! Kamran!"

The only response was silence.

She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the chaos. Furniture overturned, shattered glass, and bullet holes marred the walls.

Memories flooded her mind: laughter-filled dinners, Kamran's mischief, Abbu's stories, and Ammi's warm hugs.

"Ammi!" Aiza screamed, rushing deeper into the house.

The living room was a nightmare. Tariq and Jamila lay motionless on the floor, surrounded by pools of blood. Kamran's small frame slumped against the couch, his bright blue shirt stained crimson.

Aiza's world crumbled. She stumbled forward, her legs trembling.

"Kamran...no...please..." she whispered, collapsing beside him.

Tears streamed down her face as she cradled his lifeless body. The room spun, a nightmarish blur.

She recalled Kamran's birthday, just a few months ago, when he blew out candles on his favourite chocolate cake. Now, his bright smile was forever lost.

Aiza's gaze fell upon her mother's favourite vase, shattered on the floor. The fragments reflected the chaos, like shards of her shattered heart.

As reality set in, Aiza's thoughts fragmented:

Why did this happen?

Who did this?

Why my family?

The questions swirled, but the only answer was silence.

_Back To Present_

_October 16th, 10:00 PM_

_Karachi News Network (KNN) Studio_

The studio lights blazed to life, illuminating the tense atmosphere. Ali Hassan, renowned journalist, sat confidently, adjusting his mic. Aiza Farooq and Inspector Kashif took their seats beside him, their expressions resolute.

"Welcome to 'Breaking News,' special edition," Ali began, his voice echoing through the studio. "Tonight, we confront the allegations surrounding Rahmani Corporation. Joining me are Aiza Farooq, private investigator, and Inspector Kashif, leading the investigation."

The camera panned to Aiza, her determined gaze meeting the lens.

Ali's voice filled the room. "Aiza, Zahid Rahmani claims your allegations are baseless. How do you respond?"

Aiza took a deep breath, her voice steady. "We have evidence of Rahmani Corporation's involvement in corruption and human rights abuses, specifically implicating Fahad Khan. Zahid Rahmani assured the public that anyone involved would face consequences. We demand Fahad Khan surrender himself to authorities for a fair investigation."

Kashif nodded in agreement. "As the investigating officer, I confirm that our evidence warrants further inquiry. Fahad Khan's cooperation is crucial in uncovering the truth."

The studio fell silent, the only sound of the hum of cameras and the soft rustle of papers. The live audience watched with rapt attention.

Ali's eyes narrowed. "That's a bold demand, Aiza. What makes you think Fahad Khan will comply?"

Aiza's expression turned unwavering. "Zahid Rahmani's own words bind him. If he truly stands for accountability, he'll ensure Fahad Khan faces investigation. Anything less would be hypocrisy."

Inspector Kashif added, "We've shared our findings with the authorities. It's time for Rahmani Corporation to demonstrate their commitment to transparency."

The camera cut to a graphic displaying the evidence against Fahad Khan: documents, financial records, and witness statements.

Ali's voice filled the room. "We've obtained documents supporting Aiza's claims.

_October 16th, 10:20 PM_

_Karachi News Network (KNN) Studio_

Ali Hassan's eyes narrowed, his voice probing. "Aiza, isn't this demand premature? Don't you think Fahad Khan deserves a fair trial before we jump to conclusions?"

Aiza's expression remained resolute. "We've presented evidence, Ali. It's time for Rahmani Corporation to take responsibility."

Inspector Kashif added, "The investigation will ensure justice is served."

Ali's gaze lingered on Aiza before turning to the camera. "The nation awaits Rahmani Corporation's response. We'll be right back after this break."

The studio lights dimmed, and the broadcast cut to a commercial.

_October 16th, 10:25 PM_

_Rahmani Corporation's Headquarters, Karachi_

_Zahid Rahmani's Office_

The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the room as Zahid Rahmani leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes fixed on the large screen displaying the live broadcast.

The broadcast returned to Ali Hassan, his voice filling the room.

Amal, his PR manager; Jamal, his legal advisor; and Omar, his head of security, exchanged concerned glances.

Amal's brow furrowed, concern etched on her face. "Sir, Aiza's demands are gaining traction. We need to respond swiftly."

Jamal nodded in agreement. "The evidence they presented is damaging. We must address it immediately."

Omar's expression turned grave. "If Fahad Khan is implicated, it could compromise national security."

Zahid's gaze remained calm, his fingers steepled together. The dim lighting highlighted the sharp angles of his face.

"I understand your concerns," Zahid said, his voice measured. "But we won't rush into a response. I'll think this through, and we'll respond strategically."

Amal's eyes narrowed. "Sir, the public is watching. Silence will be perceived as guilt."

Zahid's eyes locked onto hers. "I'll handle this my way. Prepare a statement, but we won't release it yet."

Jamal scribbled notes, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps we should—"

Zahid raised a hand, his voice firm but gentle. "Not now, Jamal. I need time to think."

The room fell silent, the only sound Ali Hassan's voice and the occasional tick of the clock.

Zahid's gaze drifted to the city skyline outside, his mind already racing with strategies and countermeasures.

_October 16th, 10:30 PM_

_Fahad Khan's Residence, Karachi_

Fahad Khan stood alone in his dimly lit study, the TV screen casting an eerie glow on his tense face. The scent of old books and stale air filled his nostrils.

Aiza's demands still echoed in the room, "Fahad Khan must surrender himself to authorities for a fair investigation."

Fahad's jaw clenched, his mind racing. The soft hum of the air conditioner and the ticking clock seemed to amplify his anxiety.

He paced across the room, his footsteps echoing off the walls. The silence was oppressive, heavy with the weight of Aiza's accusations.

Fahad stopped in front of a family photo on his desk, where he kept pictures of his wife, Nalina, their son, Asad (3), and daughter, Aleena (2).

The photo showed Asad's bright smile and Aleena's curious gaze, reminding Fahad of happier times.

Suddenly, the image blurred, replaced by a painful memory.

_Flashback_

_6 months ago..._

Nalina's tears streamed down her face as she packed the last of their belongings. Asad clutched his favorite toy, a small stuffed lion, while Aleena slept in her carrier, oblivious to the turmoil.

Fahad stood frozen, his eyes pleading. "Nalina, don't go. I'll change, I promise."

Nalina's voice trembled. "You've broken promises before, Fahad. I won't raise our children around your... dealings."

The memory stung. Fahad's illegal involvement had cost him his family.

_Back to Present_

Fahad's gaze snapped back to the photo, now a bitter reminder of his losses.

The room seemed colder, the shadows cast by the dim lighting stretching like skeletal fingers.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Fahad's heart sank as he saw the caller ID: Zahid Rahmani.

_October 16th, 10:45 PM_

_Live Broadcast Studio, Karachi_

Aiza Farooq's voice shook, her words barely above a whisper, as she spoke directly into the camera. The studio lights cast an intense glow on her determined face.

"I want to remind everyone that this isn't just about Fahad Khan's corruption," she began.

The camera zoomed in on her hands, clenched into fists.

"It's about justice for Amir and Jillani, who were brutally murdered for knowing the truth."

Aiza's voice cracked, and she paused, collecting herself.

Ali Hassan, the anchor, nodded sympathetically.

"And it's about my own a*******n," Aiza continued, her voice laced with emotion. "When I was silenced and intimidated. But I won't be silenced anymore."

The studio fell silent, except for the soft hum of the equipment. The air was thick with tension.

Ali Hassan's expression turned somber. "Aiza, these are serious allegations. Do you have evidence to support these claims?"

Aiza's gaze didn't waver. "I may not have proof yet—"

She took a deep breath.

"—but I know the truth. And I have faith that it will come out eventually."

Ali Hassan's eyes narrowed. "And who do you believe is behind these heinous crimes?"

Aiza's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's what I want to know."

Her eyes locked onto the camera.

"Who is protecting Fahad Khan? Who allowed these murders to happen?"

The camera zoomed out, capturing Ali Hassan's thoughtful expression.

Ali Hassan turned to the camera, his voice measured. "Tonight, we've raised disturbing questions."

He paused for emphasis.

"Who is behind Amir and Jillani's murder? Who abducted Aiza Farooq? And who is shielding Fahad Khan?"

The studio fell silent once more.

Ali Hassan's gaze locked onto the camera, his voice firm. "We demand answers."

The camera panned to Aiza.

"The people of Pakistan demand justice," Ali Hassan continued.

Aiza's voice echoed in silence. "The truth will come out."

Her words hung in the air.

"And when it does, those responsible will be held accountable."

The broadcast ended with a haunting question on the screen: "Who is behind the truth?"

To Be Continued...