It was time for the morning call to prayer. Yusuf Chacha was about to leave for the mosque when a car pulled up outside the house. Three boys stepped out. The sight of them alarmed Yusuf Chacha—he feared Mehr's life was in danger again. As Yusuf hurried back inside, the three boys followed.
He rushed to Nawaf's room. The others trailed behind. As soon as Yusuf spoke, Hakim picked up the gun lying on the table and stood up. The boys entered.
"These are the boys!" Yusuf shouted.
Hakim lowered the gun. Nawaf placed a calming hand on Yusuf's shoulder. "Relax, Yusuf. They're with us."
Yusuf exhaled in relief and went upstairs to pray. Though not everyone had liked Yusuf Chacha at first, his devotion never wavered—and he wouldn't miss his prayer now.
Downstairs, the five men gathered in the lounge. One of the boys asked, "Why did Hakim call us to Sultan Sahib's house?"
They had come at Hakim's request, but the urgency remained a mystery.
"Did Sultan Sahib's daughter need help?" the same boy asked again.
Nawaf answered gravely, "She was attacked a few hours ago."
All three boys reacted at once. "What?!"
Hakim scoffed. "You're acting like you know this foolish girl."
Mehr, who had just reached the top of the stairs, overheard. "What's going on here?" she asked, her gaze scanning the room.
Nawaf stood. "How are you feeling, Mehr? Are you okay?"
Mehr nodded, then glanced at the unfamiliar boys. She turned to Hakim. "Who are they?"
With his usual sarcasm, Hakim replied, "To protect a foolish girl, we need sensible men."
Mehr ignored the insult. The boys looked at Hakim with disbelief. How could he speak to Sultan Sahib's daughter like that?
One stepped forward. "Your father helped us immensely. We owe him everything. I'm Zoran."
The second smiled. "I'm Shahram. I've got the heart of a lion."
Mehr chuckled at his confidence. The third nodded politely. "I'm Azlan. Pleased to meet you."
After the introductions, Hakim added dryly, "My name is Hakim."
Shahram laughed, but the silence from the others silenced him.
Hakim smirked. "Shahram, I'll show you what a lion's heart really is. Don't laugh."
Then he turned to Mehr. "Sultana, from now on, they'll be staying here. For your protection."
He glanced at his watch. "I'm sleepy."
"You can sleep in the guest room," Mehr offered.
Nawaf agreed. "Yes, Hakim. They'll stay tonight and leave in the morning."
Hakim shoved his hands in his pockets. "I only sleep in my own bed," he muttered and left.
As he exited through the gate, he saw Yusuf Chacha returning from prayer. Hakim smiled, got into his car, glanced back at the house, and murmured, "She's safe… for now. But for how long?"
Inside, Mehr, Nawaf, Zoran, Shahram, and Azlan sat in the lounge. Yusuf returned, saw Mehr, and gently patted her head.
"What about breakfast?" he asked.
Nawaf replied, "We'll eat out today, Uncle."
Yusuf nodded. Hakim was already gone.
After breakfast, Mehr said to Nawaf, "I'll get ready, then we can go to the office."
But Nawaf stopped her. "No, Mehr. You need rest. Hakim and I will manage."
She didn't argue much. Rest sounded good.
Rooms were arranged for the guests, and everyone settled in. Nawaf left for the office.
Hakim hadn't gone home. He and the Nawab were busy investigating the attackers, but no solid leads emerged.
Later that evening, Nawaf said to Hakim, "Let's go check on Mehr."
Hakim grimaced. "I don't know, man…"
Nawaf shot him a look. "That wasn't a request."
It was dusk. The house was still. Most had been up all night and were resting. The staff was in the kitchen. Mehr sat on the lawn, the cool breeze brushing her face as she stared at the sky, lost in the chaos that had overtaken her life.
Zoran stepped outside and spotted her. He walked over.
"Sultan, may I sit?" he asked. He always called her that.
Startled, Mehr looked up. "Yes. Sit."
He sat beside her. For a moment, neither spoke.
"Sultan," Zoran began, "are you feeling better?"
Mehr gave a faint smile and looked at him. He seemed calm, sincere.
"Zoran, did you also work for my father?"
"Yes," Zoran replied, his tone brightening. "We did."
"Were you close to him?"
"Sultana, he met us every day. He cared for us like family."
Mehr's eyes welled with tears. Her father's memory stirred deep pain.
"Sultan Sahib used to say, 'My Mehr is strong. She never cries.'"
Zoran paused, voice softening.
Mehr looked at him through misty eyes. "But, Zoran?"
He took a breath. "When we saw you at the funeral, we couldn't believe it. You were exactly who he described—with all his pride."
Mehr was quiet. "My father's words sounded better than my truth," she whispered. "I was proud… I thought I ruled the world. But one night was enough to shatter it."
She wiped her tears. "Zoran, I still feel my mother's touch from that last night. That was our final moment."
Tears rolled down her cheeks like pearls from a broken necklace. Zoran stayed silent, sharing her grief.
"Zoran… did you know my father's secrets?"
He nodded.
"Then you can keep mine too."
He shrugged. "You matter just as much to me as Sultan Sahib did. Don't worry."
"Tell me, Zoran… how many enemies did he have? Why didn't we know?"
Zoran gave a small smile. "He was powerful. We never let enemies near. Those who feared him begged for peace. But after he died, they saw a chance—to take revenge on you."
Mehr smiled faintly. "So they hate me because they hated him?"
"Yes, Sultan. And his power, in the wrong hands, could be dangerous. But he never chose that path. If his enemies get hold of it, they'll use it for destruction."
They were still talking when Nawaf returned. Spotting them, he walked over.
"What are you two up to?" he asked.
Zoran stood with a laugh. "Just criticizing Hakim."
Nawaf grinned. "Come on. There's a party tonight."
Shahram and Azlan were awake now. Yusuf Chacha was asking them about dinner.
Mehr walked into the kitchen. "Uncle, please start dinner. And Nawaf, tell Hakim too."
Nawaf nodded and left to call him.
When Hakim finally arrived, he entered, saw everyone gathered, and smirked.
"What's this? A secret council?"
"You weren't going to come," Nawaf said.
Hakim ran a hand through his hair and rolled up his sleeves.