1

Bakhtiyar

"Amma, samjhaayein aap Nimmi ko," Bakht said, slumping on the sofa beside his mother, his head resting on her shoulder.

"Kya hua, Bakht?" Rubab asked, already narrowing her eyes at her daughter-cum-troublemaker.

Meanwhile, Neymat sat coolly on the other sofa, trying hard to hide her smile.

"Mumma, humne ise kabhi paise ki kami hone di hai jo yeh aisi harkatein kar rahi hai?" he asked, glaring at his sister with squinted eyes.

"Mera bacha, masla kya hai?" Taha asked, stepping inside from the garden.

"Baba, she’s taking money from her friends for..." Bakht gritted his teeth, pausing.

"Money? For what?" Rubab asked sternly, gently caressing Bakht’s hair.

"She’s taking money from them to introduce me—more like just to talk to me," Bakht said, letting out a deep breath. But before anyone could react, Neymat casually chimed in.

"Haan toh konsa gunaah kar diya maine? MashaAllah se itna handsome bhai hai mera, agar mere dost mujhe paise de rahe hain aapse baat karwane ke liye toh kya galat hai isme?" she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Rubab stared at her, mouth agape, while Taha tried to control his laughter. It wasn’t the first time Nimmi had pulled a stunt like this. She used to barter Bakht’s attention with classmates in exchange for money—or even assignment help.

"Neymat!" Rubab scolded, now completely serious. "Bahut galat baat hai yeh. Alhamdulillah, hum well-settled hain. Tumhe aise karne ki kya zarurat hai?"

"Amma yaar, chill karein. Puri university deewani hai bhai ki. So as his little sister, thoda advantage le rahi hoon. Kya bura hai isme?" Neymat said with a shrug, grabbing her bag and walking off to her room, completely unbothered.

The family collectively let out a breath.

"She’s never going to change, Taha," Rubab muttered, clearly frustrated. Bakht and Taha both shook their heads.

"Rubab Malik, meri buraiyaan mat shuru karein!" Neymat yelled back, hearing her mother’s complaint as she paused on the stairs.

"Rubab Malik?" Rubab narrowed her eyes. "Maa ka naam le rahi ho? Tujhe toh main..." she said, already removing her slipper. But Neymat was quick, darting behind her father, leaving Taha to face the flying footwear.

Neymat burst into laughter behind him.

"Taha, I hate you!" Rubab shouted, ready to throw another slipper.

"Bas kar dein, biwi. Bachhi hai abhi," Taha intervened, catching her wrist gently.

Neymat peeked out from behind him, grinning.

"Right, Baba! Dekhein, main aapki bachhi hoon—chhoti si, dikhti bhi aap jaisi hoon." She pressed her cheeks against her father’s in playful affection.

"So what? Baba, main bhi aapka baccha hoon. Main bhi aap jaisa dikhta hoon," Bakht added with a pout, squinting at his sister. His words brought a brief pause in the room.

Until...

"Ji nahi!" Neymat chimed in. "Baba jaise toh main dikhti hoon. Dekhein, meri aankhein bhi blue hain!"

"So what? Meri aankhein bhi—" Bakht started again, but before the friendly sibling banter could turn into another war, Taha quickly cut them off.

"Enough, baccha! Nimmi, jao. Fresh ho jao, mujhe bhai se baat karni hai."

She nodded and left, still giggling to herself, while the others finally got a moment of peace.

As soon as Nimmi left, Taha addressed Bakht while sitting on the sofa.

“Beta...” he said, looking at him.

“Ji Baba, boliye,” Bakht responded politely, giving his full attention to his father.

“Shahram has bought a hospital and a college here in Izmir,” he paused, watching Bakht’s expression.

“Ji Baba, ,” Bakht replied.

“He wants you to take care of that property since he has other businesses to manage,” Rubab added, looking at her son.

“But Baba, I already have our business to look after—” Bakht began, but Taha interrupted him.

“Danish Bhai is sending Dawood here. He wants him to live with us...” He paused, trying to control his emotions. Dawood was always an emotional topic for them.

“Bhai is coming here?” Bakht asked excitedly.

Rubab nodded, holding back her tears.

“Bakht, you have to take charge of that hospital and college. Actually, it’s a combined building — a medical college and hospital. They offer other courses too, but it's primarily a medical institution,” Taha explained.

“So Shahram Mamu bought it because we all want to give Dawood Bhai a peaceful environment... after everything he has suffered. Right, Baba?” Bakht asked, trying to steady his emotions.

The whole family carried the shame of what Dawood had endured.

Taha nodded.

“Taniya is still recovering, beta. Leaving Dawood there, with his seizures and hysterical behaviour, is not good for either of them. He just can’t tolerate anyone near him except her ,especially outsiders,” Taha said, his voice more like a firm discussion.

“I understand, Baba. I’ll take care of it. Bhai will get better with us,” Bakht said, nodding with quiet reassurance.

After talking with Mumma and Baba, I went to my room and dialed Shahram Mamu’s number.

Yeah… he had taken over Abraham Nanu’s place because of his declining health—Nani was the same about.

How could she be… after killing her own niece with her own hands?

She killed Shreya herself. It must have been difficult for her… but she always proved her love for Nanu, no matter what.

Because of her, Nanu didn’t kill Shreya.

But when Shoaib Mamu died, everything changed.

Nimmi and Alana were so little, but I saw everything—Phupho’s condition, Dawood Bhai’s pain, shattered relationships…

I know why he’s doing this. But I want to confirm it.

“Assalamualaikum, Mamu,” I said as soon as he picked up the call.

“Walaikum assalam, Bakht,” he replied. From his voice, I could tell—he was dragging on a cigarette.

“Mamu, why did you buy that hospital and college?” I asked directly, not wasting any time.

“Because I have money,” he replied, unbothered.

But I wanted the truth—I wanted to confirm if my thoughts were right.

“Mamu… please,” I pleaded.

“Because Dawood will stay with us and I want—” Before he could finish, I cut him off.

“It’s not safe, Mamu! How can you let him study with those tharki teenagers? You know he’s scared of new people—especially women! Then why?” I asked.

“That’s exactly why I bought it—so if anyone tries to mess with my nephew, I’ll remove them,” he said arrogantly.

But I knew the pain behind his arrogance.

“But…” I was about to say something when he interrupted me.

“You know, Bakht, I could’ve bought something in Lucknow too. But that bastard breathes there—and I can’t take any risk. Tani aapi is still recovering. I want the best for Dawood… and I will give him the best,” he said.

I didn’t understand who he meant by “that bastard.”

We had a good reputation and political presence there too.

But I didn’t ask.

“Email me the name of the hospital. I’ll visit today,” I said before cutting the call.

The next second, my phone beeped.

Mamu’s one-liner message popped up on screen:

Attaturk Hospital.

---

Noor

After finishing all the household chores, I finally got a moment to talk to my brother Saleh.

He’s going to turn 18 this month, and his university will be starting soon.

So I just wanted to ask about his expenses so I can talk to Fateh and ask him for the money.

My Rehbar—he held my hand when everyone else left.

Just like an elder brother.

Yes, everyone left.

Mumma died while giving birth to my brother, Saleh.

Baba loved us deeply, but after she passed, he went into depression.

And when I turned 12, Baba left us forever.

After his death, our relatives showed their true colors.

At first, they sympathized with us—but slowly, that sympathy turned into abuse.

My Phupho hated me.

She believed her brother—my father—died grieving for my mother.

Mumma was Afghani by roots.

While studying medicine in Russia, she fell in love with Baba.

Baba was Russian—by blood, by identity, by everything.

Mumma's father was strictly against their relationship.

He didn't want his daughter marrying a Russian man, especially a Christian.

But they married anyway, against everyone’s wishes.

Baba even converted—not because Mumma forced him,

but because he wanted to be with her, fid dunya wal akhirah—in this world and the hereafter.

Everyone was against them, but still, they chose love.

When they died, Baba’s sister—my Phupho—took us in and brought us to Izmir, where she lived with her two daughters.

She was kind in the beginning.

But with time, she began treating me like trash.

At such a young age, I started doing chores I didn’t even know existed.

Baba had given us a fairytale life.

Then she cut off our pocket money too.

To support myself and Saleh, I started working as a receptionist at Atatürk Hospital.

It was hard to manage a job, housework, and studies all at once.

But the circumstances turned me into a robot.

When my face started to glow—when men began looking at me like I was a piece of meat—

that’s when even my cousins started hating me.

I never understood why.

They wished for my eyes, my face,

but if only they knew what I wished for...

If only this face could buy me a good naseeb...

But maybe my fate wasn’t so cruel after all—because I had Fateh.

He was the one who helped me when I was at my lowest.

Aurat agar khubsurat aur mazloom ho, toh mard par uske liye hamdardi farz ban jaati hai.

Maybe it was something like that... that made him help me.

Under his guidance, I went from being a receptionist to becoming a nurse.

He was a doctor at Atatürk when I first joined.

Everyone pitied me—I was the youngest employee there.

He taught me everything, helped me study, helped me get my certificate.

I owe him so much.

Now I’ll ask him for money.

Don’t get me wrong—I’ll ask him for my money.

The one I gave him to keep safe—because Phupho keeps track of every single penny.

So I saved a little from my salary, for Saleh.

Well, my baby brother earns too, but due to his short-tempered nature, he never keeps a job for more than a month.

He hates how everyone treated us.

But the truth is, we were just two fragile children—what we needed was a guardian, not just love.

Life has really been a bed of thorns for me,

but I’m still grateful that I have my brother by my side.

I want him to study—because only his hard work and education can give us a better life.

A peaceful life—away from my aunt and her daughters.

Though honestly, I don’t entirely blame her either.

She’s not my real aunt; she’s my step-aunt.

Due to societal pressure, she gave us shelter.

Then, in return, she got a free maid in the form of me.

Saleh was already gone by the time I reached his room,

so I grabbed my bag, covered my head with a dupatta, and left for the hospital.

I really hope Saleh gets admitted to Atatürk College.

Since I’m employed at one of its branches, I might get a discount on his fees.

As soon as I reached the hospital, I quickly changed into my uniform and put on my apron.

The atmosphere felt different today.

My colleague Didem told me that the new owner of the hospital was coming to inspect.

Yes, the former owner sold it...to a powerful personlity in Istanbul.

Allah, please don’t let the new owner change the staff.

Where else will I go if I lose this job?

No one will hire me. Everyone already doubts how I became a nurse at such a young age.

But if only they knew—I did my job wholehearted

ly.

Because for me, it’s not just a job.

It’s a responsibility—to stay with patients until they heal.

Trying to silence the thunderstorm of worries in my mind,

I made my way to Dr. Fateh—my Rehbar—to talk about the money.

---

Comments please 🥺?