Ali's pov
The dining hall seemed cooler than usual, even with the open kitchen and the stove being turned off only sometime earlier than now. The temperature of the conditioner may have been settled down to a notch lower than usual, because that's what we did on special occasions like this. The lively energy the atmosphere usually buzzed with seemed to be lost too, where all of us gathered on the couches and rug area, played games, threw mean comments at one another, just to start off a silly argument.
The only sound now was the scraping of fork and knife against the plates, or the occasional splash of wine as it was poured into the glasses. All of us seemed to be too focused on cutting up the steaks and devouring them, to start a hearty conversation on the table. However, none of the steaks were close to being finished, where we were mindlessly playing with our food, as suggested by the state of mess of sauces and scrambled veggies on most of our plates and the hardly eaten steaks that lay on the corner of the plates. The only one who seemed to be composed enough to be eating right was Amin, who sat upright on his chair tearing a piece of steak and forking it into his mouth, a pattern that he had fallen into with the occasional sip of wine in between his bites. However, there was a slight tremble in his fingers when he held the glass and a slight frown etched over his eyebrows during the whole meal. The tension in the room was palpable, with only two days remaining until our departure, this could be the last normal dinner we will be having in a while.
We were all dressed formally to savor the bitter sweetness of the melancholic occasion, knowing very well this might be the last time we were together. Jala wore an attractive red, strapless dress that complemented her luscious curves, and her eyelids were embellished with the slightest bit of gold, while her lips were adorned in a bold red. Her fine caramel hair were draped over her shoulders and back, where the vulnerability in her stature and actions, the way her eyebrows frowned slightly and the red in her eyes where there should have been white, indicating they shed tears not too long ago, and the stiffness in her shoulders as she took tiny bits of her food, contrasted greatly to the boldness of her appearance and made the onlooker all the more mystified of the being in front of them. Even though I had known her for over a year now, who she truly was, was still unknown to me. She was a little more than an entity, a fiery spirit that leaves everyone enchanted in it's presence, but would burn anyone who tried to get too close to it.
Amira exuded power as usual, in a beige silk maxi, deep v-neck dress with thin straps that draped over her frail shoulders and intricate embroidery that adorned the chest area and torso with a few delicate jewelry pieces to go with it. She knew how to carry herself, with a well poised figure and stoic face, she looked the most calm and relaxed of us all, which impressed and alarmed me at the same time. Perhaps, it was because she was in politics and was aware of it's dirty little games, where situations like these were common, just swept under the table. The same composure was evident in Arina's appearance where her professional demeanor was nowhere near lost and she continued to eat her meal peacefully, as though content with her day's accomplishments, which she should be. She took her work extremely seriously, and thats what made her perfect for the job, earning her my respect, as well as Khan Baba's.
Salman sat next to me in a checkered brown suit, and pants that ended a little above his ankles. His hair was messed up as usual, but still managed to look elegant in its curly callousness as some of them strayed over his smooth forehead and softened the sharpness of his cheekbones. The tension in his body showed in the rigidity of his muscles, the way his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he leaned forward on the table, eating his food too quickly for Khan Baba's liking, not necessarily visually unpleasing but a disapproval more of a aesthetic nature, where the art, artist and onlooker, all weren't reaping what the art was meant to instill originally.
However, I knew this was part of this was part of how he coped with anxious situations such as this. His leg often brushed mine under the table, which he retrieved quickly and appeared a bit flustered at the act. I extended my palm and placed it on his thigh, giving it a pat, hoping to calm him down. He took a heavy breath and leaned his back against the chair, The way he held his knife extra hard and cut his steak with unnecessary force, and his rigid posture spoke a tale different from the one that masked his face.
I took a sip of wine from the glass to relax my nerves, and settled it back on the table and let it wash over my senses, numbing them, making me unable to feel. All of these emotions had me so overwhelmed I did not know what to feel anymore. Uncertain, was perhaps the best word to describe how I felt towards the situation. It had been a long time since I participated in the likes of such a conquest, and the horrors of the previous one were still not forgotten. We emerged victorious in the battle, gaining leverage on the mafias of the regions, but those who have fought in wars know that there is no true victory. At least, not in war. So many of our soldiers were lost during the battle and a fair share of them had been taken by Yaqub and Hussein and kept in their warehouses. We tracked them and attacked their whereabouts and found our soldiers in the worst conditions possible. Even the female warriors of Zuleikha were not spared and were assaulted and mutilated, making their lives a fate worse than death. We may have attained vengeance but so many of our men won't be able to see the light of day again.
It was the treachery of Yaqub that lead to such events and we have made the decision to not only trust him but form an alliance with him.
I saw Khan baba out of the corner of my eye, sitting like a resolute king watching his children affectionately, because he knows the time is short lived. I acknowledge I have not been a good son to him, leaving him when he might have needed me the most, but if I hadn't left I would not have found myself. He never, not even once, made me feel guilty about the matter, instead supported me in all my plans and assisted wherever he could, without me asking for his help. I also know that he is the best father a son could ask for, maybe even better than a real father, since blood relations can often be taken for granted. Perhaps, it was because he knew what it was like to have no one to look out for you except yourself, and that is why he always went out of his way to make sure I never felt the same.
He lay his elegant fingers on his forehead, easing out the creases with the tips, before letting out a long held sigh and finally raising his head to look at us once more. He raised his glass, and all our eyes were on him as he chose his next words.
"Here's to a evening well spent and one that will be cherished forever. For the greater good," he said before setting the glass against his lips and we mimicked his actions, toasting to whatever lies ahead. Even the wine couldn't numb the emotions we were feeling at the moment and along with the anticipation, worry and fear, the burden was only made greater.
My eyes met with each of the members present on the table, and the overwhelmence of the moment became evident in the unshed tears and melancholic smiles painted on our lips. Nodding our heads at one another, we muttered "for the greater good," as if reminding ourselves of our purpose and a silent oath that we took upon ourselves, to keep fighting regardless of the outcome.
This web we found ourselves trapped in was not something that we ever intended to be part of, but finding ourselves in one, and how one thing led to another, it could not be denied that something else was at play here, other than the intervention of fate. Entities larger than ourselves that continued to be nameless, hiding in the shadows and refusing to come out… Perhaps that's what gave them power, their anonymity, allowing them to take control without ever showing their faces.
But we would uncover their masks, and show their faces to the world, because that is what we were here for. To expose the truth.
The rest of the evening passed in a mixture of smiles and tears, where we often ended up laughing on what we were crying on in the first place. The tension had lifted and even Khan baba was leaning on the table laughing, with tears rolling down his, calling Dawood chacha names and praising him at the same time, while reminscing about the memories they had together. He told Amira about how silly her father was as a child, while she told him about the adventures they both had when her mother was still alive. He got a bit quiet at the mention of his mother, but Amira may have been too drunk to notice.
It was not until a guard appeared through the main door and addressed Khan baba in quite a frazzled state, was when the laughter broke down and we looked up at him at what he had to say. This was not the norm for the staff to be interrupting dinner and they knew their place very well.
"Apologies for the interruption sir but I thought you should know this" he said breathless, holding up an envelope I'm his hand.
"Carry on, Dareecha," Khan baba replied calmly.
"A man came with this letter and told me to give it to you. He said Suleiman Khan is alive."
The mere string of words had the effect of turning the atmosphere around, back to when we first sat on the table to have dinner, only a thousand times worse. A piercing silence ensued, followed by a screeching of chairs against the hardwood floor, as Amira and Khan Baba both got up at the news that was revealed to them.
The envelope came with a seal resembling the outward structure of an octopus, a sign known infamous to be that of the mother. "We are taking good care of your son Suleiman, where he and Sheru are alive and well under our supervision. However, we cannot promise to continue this treatment. After all, he misses his little daughter very much."
Amira's pov
The world seemed to close around me, pressing against my rib cage, numbing my senses so that all I was aware of were the sensations coursing through my body, reminding me that I was alive and painfully so. This was a different kind of pain altogether, different from the one I experienced when I lost my mother and the state of oblivion I entered when I saw my house in ruins, charred and broken with shards of memories stabbing my chest until it was too dead to feel anything. This was a pain of fear. Fear of hope, fear of faith. Fear to believe again, only to see them shatter once again.
I clutched my head in my hands and fell on the chair that I was sitting on. Amin and Jala, who were by my side, approached me and set their palms gingerly on my bare arms with concern painted all over their faces. I did not need their pity or petty assurances that everything would be alright and they would bring my father back. Even though their concern was genuine, something I craved for a long time, I could not afford looking like a fool who did not know how to handle herself or someone who was too sensitive to be relied upon, especially at times like these when too much was at stake. I was the daughter of Suleiman Khan and the granddaughter of Zulfiqar Khan, and remained in an authoritative position of a ruling party from quite a young age. Being in politics had taught me that emotions were something that could be exploited very easily and not even those closest to you could be trusted. However, this was a family I never had but always wished for.
I looked up at Ali who gave me a reassuring smile, while Salman who sat next to him seemed too confused to be giving a reaction. I composed myself, wiped off any tears that I may have shed during the ordeal, and turned myself towards Khan baba, whose resolve was much better than mine, but I maybe the closest person to understanding the pain he was going through.
"You lost a son, once," I told him, holding his hand in mine, as I stared into his silver gray eyes. His hand was cold under my touch, while the subtle fine lines that etched his elegant face became more pronounced in a matter of minutes. His eyes glowed with a glassy sheen, turning red by holding back tears, but he smiled nonetheless at the helpless gesture. "I won't let you lose him twice."
"Inform our allies of the update. They will need to adapt their strategy according to the situation."
"Salman and Jala will take care of that," Ali said, promptly. "I do not think that we should tell the others about this letter or this new turn in our conquest."
"We can manage to hide it, but only upto a certain time," Jala replied. "How will we keep it a secret when we the time comes to escort him back here? We will need to include them at one point or another, or they will find out by themselves."
"We are going to part of the Mother's team, after all," Amin said as a matter of factly.
"Which means that all of us will have access to the inside information or atleast try to get it, if we want the mission to be a success." Arina seconds the duo's opinion.
"We could take the army's help," Salman proposed.
"Too risky," Khan Baba rejected immediately. "All the country knows Suleiman Khan is dead. If the news gets leaked somehow will be like taking him out of one death trap and pushing him into another."
'Is there no one we can trust?" Salman voices our thoughts.
"With your permission, boss, we could arrange an anonymous troop with the army who would coordinate with the team appointed from our group, assigned to bring Mr. Suleiman back safely."
"It would certainly make things much easier for us, if we were both clear about our objectives," Arina agreed with Amin. "Plus who would refuse Zulfiqar Khan?"
"We also have people within the army," Jala interjected. "I hope we never have to, but we can always leverage their information against them."
"And why are we forgetting how we helped them against the terrorists on the Pak Afghan border?"
"We do have an agreement," Ali said, his palms folded and his fingers interlaced except his forefingers that touched his lips. "Might as well cash it while we can."
"Ali is right," I said after a moment's hesitation. At this point, no one could be trusted, and with the given history of our country especially not our army. "We keep it a secret as long as we can and proceed according to our original plan. No one will know except us or the crew the general will assign for the duty." Although I did not particularly trust the army, this step needed to be taken if Baba is to return home safely and in one piece.
"We leave tomorrow, after dawn."