After a while, Abdul Rehman quietly returns to the same place. He calmly makes his way inside, careful not to make a sound. His eyes start searching—looking around every corner, every shadow. Qasim is locked in the room to the left, and Hashim is in the one to the right.
Abdul Rehman steps cautiously, observing everything around him. He first peeks into the left room—and to his shock, he sees Qasim lying there, injured and unconscious. His heart clenches, but he stays calm. He rushes to Qasim, gently shakes him awake and whispers, "Shhh... it's me—Abdul Rehman, your friend. Come on, let's get you out of here."
He begins untying Qasim's ropes, his hands working quickly yet silently.
But just as he's opening the last knot... he feels a dark presence behind him.
Hashim is standing right there.
With a cold grin, Hashim taunts, What's this, a hero deal—buy one, get one free?"
He raises a knife, ready to stab Abdul Rehman from behind.
But Qasim, seeing the danger, immediately jumps in and pushes Abdul Rehman aside—taking the blow himself.
And then, chaos erupts.
All three of them begin to fight.
Hashim, now far stronger and more aggressive than ever before, launches an attack. His strength feels unnatural, like rage is powering his muscles.
He kicks Abdul Rehman hard—so hard that Abdul flies across the room and crashes into a heavy iron object. The sound echoes painfully, and Abdul falls to the ground, groaning in pain.
Hashim laughs cruelly as he turns to Qasim, "Look at your friend now," he sneers.
He moves to strike Qasim, but Qasim, seizing the moment, grabs a chair and slams it hard into Hashim.
With fury in his eyes, Hashim yells, "Today, both of you will die by my hands—even though I never really wanted to kill you."
Then he turns specifically to Qasim and says something that sets fire to Qasim's soul:
"Qasim… I'm giving you one last chance. Leave now—and let me have your sister. I like her."
Qasim's blood boils at these words.
His eyes darken with rage, and he completely loses control.
Fueled by anger, he starts beating Hashim with everything he's got—punches, kicks, unleashing his full strength and skills. He strikes directly at the wound Fatima had once given Hashim—making him scream in agony.
Hashim writhes in pain.
At that moment, Abdul Rehman gathers enough strength to grab Hashim from behind, locking his arms.
"Do it, Qasim!" he shouts.
Qasim doesn't hold back—he attacks with all his might.
But in the struggle, Hashim's hand brushes against the floor—and finds a knife.
He strikes out wildly—and slashes Abdul Rehman's leg.
Abdul Rehman cries out in pain and falls back, clutching his wounded leg. Now Bleeding
Hashim breaks free.
As soon as he looks at Qasim, he hits him with a heavy thing
Blood pours down Hashim's face.
But Qasim grits his teeth and roars back, "The score is settled now!
Then he hurls the object back at Hashim, with all his remaining strength.
Hashim is thrown off balance, and pain fills his face.
Both Qasim and Abdul Rehman, now wounded and exhausted, begin to escape—limping, staggering—yet still alive, still breathing.
They have survived... but just barely.
Darkness had barely begun to lift as Qasim and Abdul Rehman stumbled through the outskirts of the city. Bloodied, bruised, and barely able to walk, they leaned on each other like shattered pillars still trying to stand. Every breath was pain. Every step, a battle.
Qasim's face was pale, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. His ribs ached, and his body begged for rest. But his mind—his mind burned with one thought: survival. He had to make it. They both had to. He couldn't let Hashim win.
Beside him, Abdul Rehman limped badly, his hand pressing down on the deep knife wound in his thigh. Pain shot through his leg like fire, yet he kept moving. Gritting his teeth, he refused to fall—not here, not after what they had escaped.
The road was quiet, the early morning wind whispering around them. The city was waking, unaware of the war that had just happened in its shadows.
A shopkeeper saw them first, rushing over in shock. "Ya Allah, what happened to you boys?"
Qasim's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "We need... a healer
Within minutes, they were taken to a nearby clinic. The nurse gasped seeing their condition. Blood soaked their clothes, dirt clung to their wounds, and their faces were marked with fresh bruises. But despite it all, their eyes held fire—the fire of survival, of something unfinished.
As the healer worked on them, Abdul Rehman groaned in pain while Qasim clenched his fists, jaw tight. The pain wasn't just physical. It was deeper than that—sharper. They had both faced death and escaped by inches. And they knew this wasn't over.
Not yet.
Far away, back in that abandoned hideout, another figure stirred.
Hashim.
Lying half-conscious on the cold floor, blood trailing from his lip, he slowly opened his eyes. Pain pulsed through his body. He could barely sit up. But even now, even after the beating, a twisted grin spread across his face.
He laughed.
Low and cruel.
"That was fun," he whispered to the empty room, eyes gleaming in the dim light.
He wasn't done.
Not by a long shot.
It had been a long time now.
Days had passed, maybe even weeks, but there was still no sign of Hashim—no clue, no message, not even a whisper of his return. He had vanished completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. The wounds he had left behind had begun to heal, and life was slowly returning to its rhythm.
Fatima, too, seemed happy. Her face glowed brighter these days, her laughter came easier, and the weight she had carried seemed to have lightened. But hidden beneath that fragile smile was a subtle shadow—an unspoken sadness that even she couldn't understand.
Why am I feeling like this?
Why am I sad… for him?
She found herself lost in thought often, quietly sitting by the window, her fingers tracing meaningless patterns on the glass. That man—Hashim—the one who had brought so much pain into their lives, the one whose madness had nearly destroyed everything… why was a part of her still thinking about him?
"Why do I feel bad for that cursed, twisted maniac?" she whispered to herself one evening, her voice filled with confusion. "Why do I feel… anything?"
There was no answer. Only silence.
Sometimes the mind plays cruel games with the heart—reminding it of moments that should be forgotten, feelings that never should have existed. And Fatima, despite all her strength, was human. Somewhere deep inside her, something stirred—a complicated emotion she refused to name.
But outside of her quiet inner storm, the world had started to breathe again. Peace had returned—at least for now. Everyone seemed lighter, smiles were genuine, and hope had finally made its way back into their lives.
In the center of all this, Abdul Rehman sat quietly, surrounded by the others. He held the strange book in his hands—the very same book that had once been in his father. Its pages were worn, its language unfamiliar. It was not just a book… it was a mystery.
He flipped through its ancient pages, trying to make sense of the symbols and strange diagrams. "There's something in here," he muttered under his breath. "Something important."
The others looked on curiously, but no one truly understood what he was searching for. He didn't just want to read the book—he wanted to unlock it. There was something inside it, he believed, that could explain everything… or warn them of what was yet to come.
His eyes scanned the faded ink, and he whispered softly, "This isn't over..."
Because deep inside, even Abdul Rehman knew—disappearances don't mean endings. And evil… never stays buried for long.
Question For readers :
1. Did Fatima truly feel something for Hashim? Or was it just pain and confusion distorting her emotions?
2. Is Hashim truly evil? Or just a broken man—lost in darkness, wounded by the past, and twisted by the influence of that cursed book?
Written By
Sabir Ali
Thanks For reading