"Blindly following ancient customs and traditions does not mean that the dead are living but that the living are dead."
- Ibn-e-Khaldun

Twelve Years Ago

Sun shone with all its glory outside, no sign of dense clouds or pleasant winds in the air. It cascaded its heat down upon the inhabitants who wore white, pale dresses, sadness lacing their eyes and hollowness their expressions. No hint of joy hissed through the air but melancholy, which had come to become permanence in the atmosphere around the walls of Yazdani Mansion, located outskirts in the city of Abbottabad.

Inside wasn't a much different view either, women gathered in the great hall, sitting on the white sheets, reciting Qur'an and adhkar soundlessly. At a far distance, an aged woman sat with back resting against the wall, eyes void and lips parched as she stared ahead at nothingness. Few women sat beside, murmuring words of sympathy and condolence to an old woman who had lost her younger son.

"It's okay, Ammi, Allah will establish justice." A middle-aged, decent woman said as she placed a hand on her mother-in-law's knees, "Maktub's blood won't go in vain."

However, the elder woman made no response, not even an atom of her stirred as her daughter-in-law whispered words of reassurances - words she knew were not meant for her but for the strangers sitting around them, words to emphasize that all the rumours surrounding Maktub Yazdani were horrible but false.

"My husband told me that he raped a girl and her brother killed him." A small voice sounded but it was a little too loud in the cursed silence that prevailed and the elder woman's heart shook.

More hush sounds echoed around the room after that and the old woman only clenched her eyes and teeth as she gulped heavily, their words an axe to her wounded soul. She knew well that majority of the women gathered to recite for her younger son's soul were mainly here to gossip, to gather more and authentic news regarding her son's brutal murder.

More inside, however, in the lavish drawing room of the mansion, the view was entirely different altogether. Men, dressed in traditional shalwar qameez and stern expressions painting their faces, sat across the sofas and chairs, such that almost each was occupied and yet, the deafening silence that packed the room was too loud for their ears.

Men, old and middle-aged, sat across the room, glaring at each other, none uttering a single word before Jalal Yazdani, an old man and husband to the old woman who mourned outside broke the silence, his fierce voice ringing across the room and everyone turned towards him - friends and foes combined.

"My son's murder won't be forgotten so easily, his life was not supposed to be taken away like this." His stern voice held ashes and ice and some people clenched their teeth while others smirked - the former crowd belonging to his opponents and the latter to his acquaintances.

"A rapist does not have a right to life, Jalal Yazdani." Masood Khakwani's equally fierce voice rang, making heads turn towards him now, moving between the two men who sat opposite to each other, both intimidating.

"And a bitch does who seduced him? Well, at least she knew that and took her life." Jalal Yazdani's cold words stimulated the uproar that suddenly filled the room, men belonging to the opponent crowd standing up from their seats and charging towards him but their way was blocked by Jalal Yazdani's men.

Shahriyar Khakwani was among the men in the front row who had meant to attack Jalal Yazdani, including his younger brother, Jahangir Khakwani, his face reddening in anger and blood boiling. With blood in irises, he glared at the father of the man he had killed two days ago, at the man who now leaned against the sofa with legs crossed at ankle and a smirk lifting his lips.

"My, my. Shahriyar, do you really want to go on with this? To add another crime to the already long list of yours?" The man uttered with utmost coolness, taking joy in his opponent's fear, and Shahriyar Khakwani's shoulder sagged in defeat, although the hatred in his eyes not lessening a bit.

Masood Khakwani stood up from his seat, not being among the men who had charged at Jalal Yazdani before, and caught his elder son by the elbow and pulled him back, gesturing his man to retreat as he did. Slowly, everyone took their place again and silence again filled the room before Masood Khakwani broke it.

"Refrain, Jalal Yazdani, from such words for, by Allah, this time it will be me instead of my son to take the life of a man of this family." Masood Khakwani said, voice much colder than that of his foe, eyes emitting fire and Jalal Yazdani visibly straightened in his place, the smirk suddenly wiping off his face, "We have had enough of men of your family degrading our women."

"Masood, we have gathered here to come to a conclusion, to mutual peace." Jalal Yazdani began with a slow but menacing voice, "I'm sorry to inform you but your threats hinder that."

"Threats, my ass. The real hindrance here is the values that you failed to impart in your sons." Jahangir Khakwani spoke, voice cool as he glared at his enemy.

"That coming from someone whose brother murdered a young man isn't quite settling, is it?" Murad Yazdani spoke for the first time during the commotion, the elder son of Jalal Yazdani and the tension in the room thickened visibly.

"Gentlemen, stop. We are here to solve the problem; let us concentrate on that." An elderly man spoke who belonged to the neutral clan and came only to see to the whole debate, making sure that no more blood was shed and no more lives were harmed.

"Yes, please." Masood Khakwani said, eyes turning to the elder man and head nodding.

"There is no justification for murder, but then, there is none for rape either." The man who functioned on neutral grounds said and everyone nodded their head in unison, except Jalal Yazdani and Shahriyar Khakwani who only scoffed.

"Damage has been done to both parties, heavy damage." Another man from the crowd said, "Revenge will only lead us to more because if this war starts, it will never end."

"Who the hell even wants this war to end? That bastard abused my sister, his first cousin. Do you think that's forgivable?" Shahriyar Khakwani voiced suddenly, his temper rising.

"And you murdered him; do you think that is forgivable? Do you think killing him was the answer?" The murdered man's elder brother spoke, irises of the eye reddening.

"It was the only answer. Firuzeh was not only my sister; she was the daughter of his maternal aunt, his first cousin. Murder was the answer, Murad Yazdani." Shahriyar Khakwani seethed in vengeance as equal blood filled his eyes.

"How can you blame my son for this? Your sister must have a hand in it too. No man dares touch a woman if he doesn't allow it." Jalal Yazdani spoke again, different words, same context but before uproar could rise again, a voice rang that shook the room.

"Jalal!" Masood Khakwani's fierce voice rang, louder than anything that had ever been heard within the confines of this room and Jalal Yazdani's lips pressed in a thin line, the elder man interrupting before Jalal could reply.

"What's done is done. Both of them are dead - one was murdered and one committed suicide - and the mess we are in now needs to be sorted out." The man stated sensibly and eyed the two leaders of their clans - Masood Khakwani and Jalal Yazdani but both remained silent.

"Court." Masood Khakwani said after a moment and a deathly silence filled the room, thicker than the thickest of blood, "We'll go to the court."

Followed by the silence that came to wake at his words, a sudden mock laughter filled the room, coming from none another than Jalal Yazdani who had now thrown his head back as he leaned against the sofa back with body radiating ease and mockery. Sheer disgust came to reside in Masood Khakwani's eyes as he regarded his opponent.

"Court? You'll go to the court?" Laugh, a mocking, taunting laugh was still plastered on his face as he asked, shaking his head in sheer amusement all the while.

"Yes, we will and we will make sure we have the case in our pocket before we walk inside the courtroom." Shahriyar Khakwani said, eyeing Jalal Yazdani's amusement with disgust.

"Take my suggestion for this and don't take this to the court; it will bring shame to the name of both families." A man from the crowd said out of nowhere and Jalal Yazdani raised an eyebrow, as if agreeing with him.

"Much more to yours than to ours - that I can assure you." Morad Yazdani too uttered, a distant look to his words and expressions.

"Yes, I highly agree. Taking the case of a woman's abuse to a court - you do know the consequences, don't you?" The hidden threat in Jalal Yazdani's words made Masood Khakwani heart flutter in his chest, his face, however, still stoned.

"Masood, I agree with Jalal." The neutral man interfered, "Daughter Firuzeh's name and dignity is already in shreds. Taking this case to the court won't help anyone. If possible, it will only tarnish her reputation more."

Masood Khakwani eyed between the two men, knowing fully well that this case won't affect Maktub Yazdani's reputation by an ounce; it will only be his daughter's honour that will be stained even more. And for one second, for one irrational second when no thought crossed the brain, he wanted to wail at this injustice; wanted to cry out because the society he resided in might forgive the rapist but it never forgives the victim, it never lets her live in peace.

Maybe Firuzeh knew this; maybe this is what triggered her to take her life for she knew all too well the society she lived in.

"Then come up with a solution to end this feud as soon as possible, for, by Allah, my patience is running thin." Although Masood Khakwani did cave in after the hidden threat, but knew better than to let every man in the room get a hint of that.

"If the two of you can cooperate, I'm sure we can achieve that." The neutral man now said, almost admonishing, and both of them nodded.

"We are caught in a cycle, a vicious one at that." The man began, as if explaining and hinting towards a solution, "Maktub raped Firuzeh, Shahriyar murdered Maktub and now someone from the Yazdani family will take revenge as forgiveness has never been an option here, as you people well know and this feud will never end."

None of the men sitting in the room knew where the man's talk was headed but they still paid heed, hanging on to every word that he uttered. A solution, a mutual agreement, a peace pact was all that they needed, for now, for the future.

"We have to come to a compromise as it is..." The man had not yet completed when Shahriyar Khakwani stopped him mid-sentence.

"What kind of compromise are you talking about?" He asked, gaze reducing to a glare, sensing the danger before it arrived.

"Marriage." The elder man said, eyes scanning the two opposites closely, reading their expressions before the words could come.

A sudden silence hushed the room quicker that a bullet could reach the enemy's heart, eyes of every man in the room widening ever so slightly as they gaped at the man who had proposed the impossible and the absurd. Masood Khakwani swore that his heart stopped beating for a moment and after it resumed its function, it pumped ache instead of blood.

"Excuse me?" Shahriyar Khakwani released the voice caught in his throat, his eyes threating to come out of sockets as blood stained the irises.

"Marriage is the only possible solution to end this feud, only it will bring an end to this long drawn out war." Another man from the crowd said sensibly, eyes running through the crowd of bewildered spectators.

"Between who?" Jalal Yazdani posed a question, arching a brow as he studied the men with distant thought.

"A Khakwani murdered a Yazdani, so naturally, a woman of Khakwani household with a man of this house." A man proposed and the faces of Khakwani men reduced to ashes within a second.

The satins of dread and tension that suddenly coiled through the room were thick, their bristles slitting the throats of men belonging to Khakwani tribe. The father and brothers of the abused woman found no warmth left in them to reiterate, the sudden mockery that came to rest on Jalal Yazdani's face not consoling their hearts either.

"But a Yazdani raped a Khakwani, which is how the war was let loose. Otherwise, there was a settlement of peace between the two parties. Maktub's actions were the stimuli, god damnit." Jahangir Khakwani found his voice before his elder brother or father could, his face and mind ashen.

The man from the neutral party sighed before he cast a slow glance over all the men seated in the room and glaring at him with anxiousness, his shoulders sagging before he opened his mouth to spoke in an unhurried, composed and tranquil voice.

"The answer to Firuzeh's rape was not murder, gentlemen. If Shahriyar hadn't done what he did, taking the case of her abduction to the court or even demanding Maktub's life to bring peace would have made perfect sense." The man stopped for a moment to breathe before continuing, "But Shahriyar murdered Maktub and it made all the difference in the world."

Eyes turned towards Shahriyar, even those of his brother, Jahangir, who had tried so desperately to stop him on that night, but Shahriyar just didn't listen. He was far too gone, blinded by honour and dignity to see past the haze of anger that had clouded his vision. On hearing, Shahriyar lowered his head too, cursing himself slightly for because his actions taken to avenge the honour of the woman of his family were costing him another girl.

"Both parties did harm, both suffered heavy damage and now, both are equal in every sense. Yazdanis won't forgive the murder of their son; Khakwanis won't forgive the rape of their daughter. The only way we can make out of this war is marriage between the families." The man observed the faces of people who looked at him intently before sighing, "It will attempt to lessen the hatred and end this war, once and for all."

After the man had finished, another wave of silence crashed against the walls of the room, every man processing the information given in a different way - some calculating their loss, others their victory and still others were left who were only mourning.

"If we're equal in every sense, why can't a Yazdani woman marry one of our men?" Masood Khakwani battled for another woman of his family. He had already lost his daughter; he didn't want to lose one of his precious granddaughters, Hemayal and Mehmal, too.

"Masood, this marriage is not a blood feud neither are we proposing that. It is just an agreement to bring an end to this fight. The children of the next generation are growing up. Do you want them raised in such conditions when there is always a threat to their lives?" An elderly man from the crowd said and Masood Khakwani pressed his lips together.

He knew this was not a blood feud, knew that the only purpose it had was to bring peace but he didn't want peace at the cost of his granddaughters. Blood feud or not, this was a marriage of convenience, marriage aimed at ending the fights and in such marriages, even if the primary purpose was established, the residents of the relationship are the only ones left to suffer. And, by Allah, he didn't want his children to suffer anymore.

"Still, why can't a Yazdani woman..." Jahangir had not yet completed his sentence when Murad Yazdani cut in, voice fierce.

"Because we have no Yazdani woman in the house who can wed a Khakwani." He stated, voice composed but hard, "Safaa is not my daughter, she is my wife's niece. She is not a Yazdani."

And for the first time since Safaa came to live with them, Murad Yazdani was glad that she was not his flesh and blood.

"She is a daughter to you and your wife, a sister to your sons. She might not be a Yazdani but she is a daughter of this house." A man with loyalty towards the Khakwani tribe spoke and Murad Yazdani creased his brows in anger.

"But she is still not a Yazdani, she is a Yusufzai. And this war is between Yazdanis and Khakwanis. No man or woman of Yusufzai or any other family will be dragged into this, I won't allow it." Murad Yazdani's voice was firm, determined and fierce, leaving no room for argument on the table.

And just as the neutral man nodded to Murad Yazdani's words, Masood Khakwani knew that the battle was over, the smirk that lifted Jalal Yazdani's lips a clear sign.

"Do you agree, Masood, to the marriage between one of your granddaughters to one of Murad Yazdani's sons?" The elder man, the neutral one, spoke and Masood Khakwani's heart died and shattered into a million pieces and more as he eyed him.

"What other options do I have?" He asked, despite knowing that the tabled have already been turned upon him.

For one last time, he wanted to fight for the freedom and life of his granddaughters, for saving them from being sacrificed to establish peace in the land which was threatened by the men who roamed freely around it and for one moment, he wanted to cry out at this injustice.

"You do have the option of not agreeing to this marriage and taking the issue to the court but it will come with its consequences, Masood." The man stated, "I must warn you that your son killed their adult, grown up, bachelor son. They won't leave the matter to rest so easily. The fact that they are even agreeing to this peace arrangement is huge, you should avail this chance."

"But they also..." Shahriyar Khakwani did not settle well with the Yazdanis having an upper hand on them and instantly reiterated.

"We know that, you know that, even they know that Maktub abused Firuzeh. But you cannot prove it in the court or anywhere else. Both of them are dead and the only thing that we have as a proof are your words and they can be proved to be fabricated in a single hearing of the court." Another man stated, this time approaching a sterner outlook.

Masood Khakwani's shoulders and those of his sons too sagged in utmost defeat, their faces losing their colour as they felt the matter slipping from their fingers ever so painfully. No other option was left, no more cards were left to play and just like this, another daughter of their family was destined to ruin at the hands of Yazdanis.

"So, Masood, which granddaughter of yours are you willing to give away to establish peace?" Jalal Yazdani spoke, clear mockery in his voice but Masood Khakwani felt practically devoid of any strength to answer.

He loved both of his granddaughters equally, both were the lights of his eyes and empresses of his heart, and making this decision was the toughest he had encountered in his life. Who to give, who to save but he knew that this decision was already made, and not by him.

"Hemayal, of course - her father murdered Maktub. Jahangir and his daughter have nothing to do with this problem." A man from the neutral tribe spoke and Masood Khakwani felt knives slitting his throat and slicing his heart.

Shahriyar Khakwani had had his face colour reduced to pale, his eyes widened in despair and helplessness. With heart beating at the atrocity that was occurring and mind wailing at the vulnerability to the situation, his beats mourned at the fate of his only, beloved daughter - Hemayal.

Allah, he had loved his daughter much more than his elder son, Hadeed. Her soft smiles and delicate laughter made him forget the bitterness of the world they resided in. And now, she had to pay for her father's mistake, for her father's irrational and unintelligent actions. By Allah, had he known that she would be the one to pay for his actions, he would have rather killed himself than taking the life of Maktub Yazdani. But is where all the troubles always lie - had he known.

"Masood and Shahriyar, do you have any objection?" The tone of the neutral man softened, sensing the fury of the winds they were going through at the moment.

"No, we don't." Masood Khakwani sighed after a moment, voice extraordinarily slow.

And with that, both men closed their eyes for a few moments, letting the harsh realities sink in, the pain in their hearts too humongous to bear. Hemayal was the life of Khakwani household and centre of their universe, and regret, remorse and everything in between crashed upon them as they heard gasps of relief slither across the room.

"It is decided then. You men can reach upon a mutual date on which Hemayal will wed Mustafa." The neutral man seemed overjoyed as he said and Masood Khakwani turned his head towards him abruptly.

"Mustafa?" He asked.

"Yes, he is the elder one." Jalal Yazdani spoke, eyes narrowing and at this, a small frown curved Masood Khakwani's lips.

"No, I want Hemayal to marry Ibrahim." Masood said, frowning at his own request afterwards

He did not know what overpowered him as he proposed this request but he had always liked the younger boy who was almost touching his sixteenth spring now, a kind, composed man even at such a small age and a perfect gentleman who was radically different from other members of his family. Yes, he would take good care of his daughter.

He hoped he would.

"But he is younger..." Murada Yazdani had not yet uttered each word on his tongue when Masood Khakwani interrupted.

"Does it really matter? They are both apart by only two years and besides, this is just a peace agreement. What does it matter who is made to sacrifice?" Masood Khakwani fixed his gaze on the father of the young man he had always admired as he uttered the last sentence with pain.

"Fine, Mustafa or Ibrahim - they're both the same to me." Jalal Yazdani affirmed before continuing, "But when?"

Hemayal had only lived through thirteen springs in her life and there was no way on earth he would marry her off at such a small age, she had yet to experience life and all the troubles that come with it. Up till this date, she had only seen love in all the different forms - it would take time to prepare her for the ordeal.

"Not until she has graduated from school." Before Masood Khakwani could speak, Shahriyar Khakwani uttered the words playing at the tip of his tongue.

"That is three years away." Jalal Yazdani remarked with shocked disapproval, eyes narrowing, "How can we ensure that you'd fulfil your promise at that time?"

"Three years is not a long time and won't you need some convincing with your son, Murad? He lives in London and..." Shahriyar Khakwani spoke but Murad Yazdani silenced him mid-sentence.

"Convincing my son is not something you should worry yourself with, Shahriyar." He glared at his opponent as he remarked.

"Fine, then. We have an agreement." The neutral man spoke as he straightened in his place, hinting at the end of this session and everyone followed suit.

"Hemayal Khakwani will marry Ibrahim Yazdani the day she graduates from school."

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Hello, guys!

The past is out and I want to know what you guys feel!

Are there any confusions here? If yes, let me know so I can clear them up!

Till next time,
Salam!