After five years

A Bugatti was speeding down the road in a black blur. The car took a U-turn to avoid an old-looking man. A man stepped out of the car, removing his goggles. All the men wearing black shirts and pants came out,

they looked like his bodyguards!

He went inside the godown and marched toward a dark room, where a man was tied to a rope. Blood was oozing from his lips.

"Ohh… Ohh… Welcome, Miraan… oh, sorry, beast," he vocalized in an ironic way as Miraan scoffed, looking at him. He removed his blazer and rolled the sleeves of his black shirt.

He turned his neck to the right and tilted it; a crack sound echoed in the creepy silence. He sat opposite the man.

"Ohh, Wasir… I think I should welcome you," he uttered with a sinister smirk, as Wasir glared at him like he wanted to kill him right now.

"You fucker, just untie me. I’ll show you who messed with whom," Wasir growled like a wild animal."Sure," Miraan said, flicking his eyes at one of his guards, who stepped forward. Wasir removed the tie.

Miraan and Wasir stood, looking at each other, ready to fight. He removed his shirt and clenched and unclenched his fists. Wasir ran at him and threw a punch at his face, but Miraan dodged and returned it with double the force. Wasir wiped the blood from his mouth and kicked Miraan from behind, sending him crashing down!

Wasir smirked, earning a throatful groan from Miraan. Miraan marched toward him and kicked him in the stomach–again, again, again! His kicks continued, blood boiling inside him like lava; no one had the right to even touch him!

Wasir lay on the floor, defeated. Miraan grabbed a cleaver and slammed it into Wasir’s chest. His final, painful scream engulfed the whole area!

Miraan kicked the lifeless body one last time and marched away, putting his shirt back on. Miraan roared as his Bugatti sped away at full speed!

Next day

A girl wearing a denim-blue kurti stepped out of the rickshaw. She started walking toward the nearby college, which was very popular and rich. To her luck, she had earned a scholarship, though it was actually her second year.

Soon she entered the college. Not everyone, but most of the boys’ eyes stuck on her for a minute.

Her little curly hair and milky-white skin caught attention, and the blue kurti clung to her body like a second skin. But she had properly covered every part of herself. She adjusted her dupatta on her chest, noticing the unwanted gazes on her.

Her outfit!



She went to the principal's office to take her timetable. Most of the girls gave her jealous looks, as she looked so beautiful even without any modern dress or makeup. Some adored her and gave her kind smiles, which she gladly returned. Most of the students there were arrogant brats, showing off their parents' money!

In lunchtime!

She was peacefully eating her food in a corridor when she suddenly saw groups of students coming toward her. Judging by them, she guessed they were maybe the bad boys and girls of the college but not even the dean could compete; they must be moneybags!

She rolled her eyes in thought and continued eating her food."Hey, newbie!" she heard a girly voice filled with arrogance. She turned toward them and saw a girl wearing a black blazer-and-skirt outfit. The girl looked beautiful, but her eyes and face screamed perfect richy bitch. Standing in the middle, Ahaana understood the girl must be the leader of the gang!

Ahaana again started eating her food as if nothing had happened. Amara and the others’ blood boiled seeing her courage to ignore them. In frustration, Amara grabbed Ahaana's arms and made her stand up, then took a glass of water and threw it on her face.

"You fuckin' bitch! How dare you ignore us!" she screeched, while Ahaana was taken aback by the sudden act. Her own blood boiled; she grabbed the soft drink bottle near her and poured it on Amara.

The whole canteen gasped, as no one had the authority to mess with Amara, aka Amara Rathore; she was the sister of Miraan Rathore, the king of the underworld. Amara's face was no less than a witch’s.

"You bitch! Do you even know who I am?" she snapped."Yes, I know. You must be the daughter of some fat cat or underworld don," Ahaana snapped back. "But I, Ahaana Kaur, don’t care about anyone. Just because you’re popular or your father is rich doesn’t give you permission to bully me or anyone." Saying this, she walked away.

Ahaana went to the washroom to dry herself. She was washing her face when she suddenly heard someone call her:

"Hey, Ahaana Kaur."It was not clingy, but rather sweet and soft. Ahaana turned and saw a beautiful, gorgeous girl in a Pakistani suit.

"Hey, I’m Amaya Rathore," the girl introduced herself, and Ahaana also introduced herself.

"Hey, I know your name. You’re the popular latest news here for insulting the sister of Miraan Rathore," Reem said. Ahaana frowned."Rathore?" she asked.

"Ohh, I’m sorry. The girl who came to you in the canteen is my twin sister, Amara Rathore," she explained.

Ahaana’s eyes widened like tomatoes. Amara was night, and Amaya was day– their characters were completely opposite, and even their faces!