The clicking of heels echoed through the polished marble hallway, the sound bouncing off the spotless white walls on the right, adorned with minimalist art pieces.
To the left were glassed walls, giving a complete view of the cityscape from the towering height of Z Plaza.
The darkness of the night was a stark contrast to the lights glowing in the building.
She was walking on a steady pace, a paper bag in one hand, the other holding her phone. The faint smell of jasmine from a nearby flower arrangement mingled with cool air of Z Plaza.
She stopped for a second and turned to her left, looking out at the view from atop of Z Plaza. She knew the importance this place hold in this region. In the region of Khandan-e-Zamurd (Family Zamurd)-one of the most powerful and ambitious family.
Z Plaza was one of the four skyscrapers build in this region. Though, this plaza was odd one out from among the four.
She had a strange feeling that something was wrong, that something was about to happen. She knew that even the smallest mishap would trigger a swift response: special police units, Emergency Medical Services, helicopters from both aviation and news teams, emergency management agencies, and even specialized rescue and HAZMAT teams would all be activated at once, led by Khandan-e-Kulgin (Family Kulgin). But still, something felt wrong.
She was dragged out of her thoughts when her mobile rang. She looked at the screen seeing the caller id of her brother. Picking it up, she brought the phone to her ear and continued walking towards the elevator.
Busy in her conversation, she reached the elevator, assuring her brother on the other end that she will arrive within a few minutes, "Yeah, yeah, brother, I'll be there in five minutes."
The soft chime of the elevator arriving interrupted her, and she glanced at her phone just as the notification flashed, revealing her cell phone's battery level: 15%.
Call ended.
She stepped into the elevator, which was lined with mirrors reflecting the smooth modern design of the space. The soft lighting cast a gentle glow, creating an almost surreal atmosphere.
She immediately noticed three girls already inside.
One, dressed in black abaya and wearing a black cap, stood at the front of the lift.
Another stood on the left side, wearing a dark brown abaya with a matching hijab.
The last girl, with her arms crossed, was on the right side, covered in a wine-red abaya.
They all looked suspicious in their own way.
With a polite smile, she greeted them softly, "Assalam o Alikum."
The elevator door slid shut with a quiet hum, sealing them in a small enclosed space.
One from among the girls merely glared at her, while the one in black cap lowered her head in response.
"Wa Alikum Asalam," the girl in the brown abaya replied, her tone measured and watchful.
She pressed the button for her floor, the soft beeping sound adding to the mechanical hum of the elevator. The only available spot was the front left corner, and she moved there.
The girl in the black abaya and cap stood motionless in the front, her eyes hidden beneath the edge of her cap.
The girl in the dark brown abaya, on the left occasionally shifted her weight, her gaze flickering towards the elevator's mirrored walls.
The girl in the wine-red abaya on the right side remained still, her arms crossed tightly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at the floor numbers ticking by.
"Are you visiting someone?" the girl in the brown abaya suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but carried an edge that made the question seem more like an investigation.
Startled, she nodded. "Was. Now, I'm going back."
The girl in the brown abaya exchanged a quick glance with the others, her expression unreadable. "It's a quiet night," she continued, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.
"Yes, it is," she agreed, shifting slightly.
Suddenly, the elevator jolted to a stop, the lights flickering. She glanced around, her heart pounding. The girls remained calm, almost as if they had expected this.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The girl in the black cap finally lifted her head, her eyes cold and piercing. "Looks like we're stuck," she said, her tone lacking emotion.
Panic started to rise within her, but she forced herself to stay calm. She pressed the emergency button but there was no response.
"We should try to stay calm," the girl in the brown abaya suggested, her voice unnervingly steady. "These things happen sometimes."
She nodded, trying to steady her breathing. She leaned back against the mirrored wall, feeling its coolness on her back.
As minutes ticked by, the girl in the wine-red abaya finally spoke, her voice low and almost conspiratorial. "It's interesting, isn't it? How we are all here, together, at this moment."
The girl looked at her, trying to understand her meaning, but her face was blank, revealing nothing.
"I suppose it is," she replied cautiously, her unease growing.
The girl in the black cap took a step forward, her eyes fixed on the girl, "You know," she began, her voice barely more than a whisper, "not everyone is who they seem."
That words sent a shiver down her spine.
The atmosphere had shifted.
Uneasiness was noticeable.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked trying to keep her voice steady.
The girl in the black didn't answered immediately. Instead, she looked at the other two girls, a silent communication passing between them.
Finally, she turned back to her, a chilling smile curling on her lips. "You'll find out soon enough, sweetheart," she said mysteriously.
Then,
in one swift motion,
she pulled out a gun,
pointed it at her head.
Her breath caught in her throat, her heart throbbing against her ribs. The barrel of the gun gleamed under the dim light, its cold metal a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of her panic. The other two remained still, their eyes locked on her, watching her reaction with an eerie calm.
"W-what do you want?" she managed to choke out, her voice trembling.
The girl in the black cap's smile widened, but it held no warmth. "Just a little cooperation," she replied, her tone as cold as the gun she held. "And maybe some answers."
"Answers to what?" she demanded, her voice a mix of fear and defiance.
"Questions we ask," the one in the brown abaya said, her eyes narrowing. "And if we don't like yours answers," the girl in the wine-red abaya continued, "we'll see how you well handle a bullet to that head of yours."
The girl gulped nervously, her mind racing as she imagined the worst. Desperately, she began pressing the emergency button over and over again, her movements frantic and uncoordinated.
"Wrong move, sweetheart," the girl with the gun said, stepping closer. The cold metal of the gun pressed against her forehead, sending a shiver down her spine. "What's in the bag?" she demanded.
"It's nothing," the girl replied, swiftly hiding the paper bag behind her back.
"If it's nothing, why hide it?" the girl in the brown abaya asked, her tone dripping with suspicion.
"Tell us the truth," the girl with the gun insisted, pressing the barrel harder against her skin.
"I said it's nothing important," she replied, her voice rising in frustration. "There's nothing in it!"
Suddenly, the girl in the wine-red abaya stepped forward and took the gun from the other girl's hand.
She grabbed the newcomer's arm, yanking her forward to face her. "Listen, girl," she said dangerously, her eyes boring into hers, "You're testing my limits, and that's a mistake. If you want to stay in one piece, shut that little mouth of yours and give me the bag. The others here might be warning you only but I am the danger you should worry about."
The threat was for the girl who shivered after hearing it but..
someone...
someone smirked.
Watching the girl in wine-red abaya through the screen, he muttered to himself, "You're playing tough, but we'll see how well you handle the real danger, Sevgilim."
Turning off the screen of his tablet, he pressed the bluetooth device which was in his right ear and made a call.
"I will not," the girl replied, trying to appear unaffected by the threat but her own voice betrayed her.
The girl in the wine-red abaya took a deep breath, positioned the gun at the girl's forehead and stated, trying controlling her anger.
"Fine, if that's what you want."
GUNSHOT
"With a gun?" the constable asked, his tone skeptical but alert.
"Do I need to repeat?" the man on the other end responded coldly, a hint of impatience lacing his voice.
"We'll be there in a few minutes," the constable replied, his annoyance clearly visible.
Before he could finish, the man hung up. The constable grunted in frustration and turned toward his superior, the police officer, who was already watching him with a raised brow.
"Sir, it's an emergency," the constable said, though his frustration lingered.
"Where?" the officer responded, his voice sharp and immediate, already sensing the urgency.
The constable, still a bit unfocused, replied offhandedly, "At the building-"
The officer's face darkened, cutting him off sharply, "Stop wasting time! Details, now!"
Startled, the constable straightened up, finally processing the gravity of the situation. "Y-yes, sir. It's Z Plaza."
The moment the words left his mouth, the room seemed to freeze.
Z Plaza.
The officer's eyes widened with instant recognition. The name alone shifted the atmosphere in the station.
Within seconds, the officer barked out orders to his team, his voice rising with authority. "Z Plaza? Dispatch all units immediately! I want helicopters in the air, the SWAT team on standby, and EMS ready to move! Notify the special division!"
The constable stood frozen for a beat, realizing his mistake in downplaying the importance. Z Plaza wasn't just any building.
Any incident there, especially involving a gun, would ripple across the entire region, with consequences that reached far beyond their station.
The officer continued shouting instructions, "Activate the emergency protocol for Z Plaza! Contact Khandan-e-Kulgin immediately, especially Yasin Hussain-this isn't a drill! Get the media locked down before they get wind of this."
Within moments, the entire station was buzzing with coordinated activity, phones ringing, radios buzzing, and officers rushing to their positions.
The officer hurriedly contacted Khandan-e-Kulgin, knowing that any disturbance at Z Plaza needed their immediate involvement. Yasin Hussain, the leader of the Kulgin family, responded in person.
He arrived with a quiet intensity, his presence commanding respect. Despite being in his late forties, Yasin was still fit, his sharp eyes assessing the situation the moment he stepped inside.
"Where's my gun?" Yasin asked without greetings, his voice calm but carrying authority.
The officer straightened up, his face pale. "Sir, it should be in the drawer, as always. We've kept it secure as per your instructions."
Yasin's gaze hardened as he noticed the discomfort in the officer's stance. "Show me."
The officer reached out to the drawer, his hand steady but his mind racing. As his fingers wrapped around the handle and pulled, his heart nearly stopped. The drawer was empty.
The gun wasn't just any weapon-it was a symbol of the Kulgin family's authority and trust in the region. Having it stored here meant this station was considered the most reliable by Khandan-e-Kulgin. Its disappearance now was not just a security breach; it was a direct threat to their power.
Yasin stood still for a moment, his gaze fixed on the empty drawer. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward the officer.
"Where," he began, his voice dangerously calm, "is my gun?"
The officer's face went pale, and he stammered, "Sir, I-I don't know. It was there just yesterday. We-we can search-"
"Search?" Yasin's voice cut through the room. He stepped closer to the officer, his presence looming over him. "That gun was entrusted here. How is it missing?"
The officer backed up slightly, trying to gather himself. "We'll find it, sir, immediately. I'll get every officer on this. It-it's probably just misplaced."
Yasin's gaze bore into him, unblinking. "Misplaced? That gun doesn't get misplaced."
Silence.
"Find."
The officers immediately get on work. The police station was now a hive of frantic activity.
Half the officers scrambled to search for Yasin Hussain's missing gun, tearing through every drawer, locker, and corner of the station.
The other half worked quickly to make the necessary arrangements for securing Z Plaza-reviewing plans, checking equipment, and preparing to mobilize.
But not a single officer had been dispatched to Z Plaza yet.
No one dared to move until Yasin Hussain's gun was back in his hand.
Time was slipping away.
The threat at Z Plaza loomed larger with every passing second. Yet nothing would move until Yasin's command was given.
When the gun was still nowhere to be found, desperation began to creep in. The officer in charge wiped the sweat from his brow and finally, reluctantly, ordered a review of the CCTV footage. Officers huddled around the screen, their anxiety at peaks.
As the footage played, they saw her-a girl, not older than her mid-twenties, casually strolling into the room where the gun was kept.
Without hesitation,
she opened the drawer,
took the gun,
and calmly walked out.
Yasin's eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold.
He didn't speak immediately, just observed, his expression indescribable. The officer standing beside him looked nervously at the screen, then back at Yasin, waiting for his reaction.
Then Yasin's gaze shifted. He glanced at the calendar on the wall, his eyes searching for today's date.
It was as if something had clicked in his mind. His face hardened, a slight easiness was sensed on his face for a moment, a flicker of realization, but quickly masked with his usual hard expression.
With a final look at the footage, Yasin turned away from the screen and gave the only order that mattered. "Carry out the mission."
The room seemed to exhale as if everyone had been holding their breath.
Immediately, officers jumped into action.
The forces stationed at the police department were quickly mobilized, their preparation complete.
No more waiting.
No more delays.
Within moments, the police cars roared to life, sirens blaring as they raced toward Z Plaza. Specialized units, armed and ready, followed close behind.
The streets of the city erupted with the sound of urgency as a full-scale response surged towards Z Plaza.
The mission had begun.
To the Z Plaza.
Z Plaza stood surrounded by flashing police lights, helicopters circling above, and heavily armed special units stationed at every possible entry.
The building, usually a symbol of luxury, was now on lockdown as mechanics worked to restart the elevator where the four girls were trapped.
One of them victimized.
Officers had secured every floor, standing by each elevator opening, prepared for any outcome.
Yasin Hussain stood on the first floor, his gaze was sharp-focused entirely on the elevator that had become the center of everyone's attention.
Finally, the elevator jolted to life, and with a soft *ding*, the doors slid open right on the first floor-directly in front of Yasin Hussain.
The tension in the air was thick as all eyes snapped to the elevator. But what appeared next was beyond anyone's expectations.
The four girls stood there, one holding a cake with six lit candles, all blowing them out at once.
Wait.
A cake?!
Seriously?!
Yasin Hussain's eyes narrowed for a brief second, scanning the scene. One of the girls, the same one he had seen on the CCTV footage, was attempting to quietly hide his gun behind her.
The rest of the girls were frozen in awkward smiles, staring at the armed police units surrounding them. Yasin stepped forward, eyes fixed on the girl with the gun.
"Dad..." the girl with the gun, his daughter, stammered, nervously holding the cake with one hand and his gun behind her with the other.
Wait a second.
Dad?!
His daughter?!
What the hell is going on?!
"We were... just celebrating."
"Celebrating?" Yasin arched an eyebrow, stepping closer to her. The other three girls, wide-eyed and awkward, exchanged quick glances.
"Our... six-year friendship anniversary," one of the girls finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Wait another second.
Friendship?!
Celebration?!
It's confusing!
Okay, if they were friends then why carrying out this whole scene at first place?!
Yasin stopped, staring at the cake with six candles, then back at his daughter. The corner of his mouth twitched, and to everyone's surprise, he smiled. "Six years, huh?" he said, shaking his head. "And you thought taking my gun was part of the celebration?"
So, he was not a complete heartless and cold man. Got it.
His daughter laughed nervously. "It was... just a joke. We didn't think it would go this far." She held out the gun sheepishly, and Yasin took it from her hand without a word.
Wait. Wait. Wait! For. A. Second.
What's even going on?!
These four 'best friends' carried out a complete tensed scene, in Z PLAZA, only to..? What?
The police units, still stationed at every floor, were baffled by the turn of events. All with 'done' faces.
The four girls, all grinning awkwardly now, stepped out of the elevator, trying to shake off the tension.
Yasin looked at them, and with a soft chuckle, said, "Next time, just use candles, no guns."
The girls let out a collective breath, laughing as they quickly exited, brushing past the bewildered officers, who lowered their weapons and were now eased.
As Yasin Hussain stepped out of the building, the air thickened with the buzz of reporters.
"Sir, sir! Tell us what happened!" one shouted, thrusting a microphone forward.
"Mr. Hussain, what was the threat?" another pressed, eager for a scoop.
"How is Z Plaza?" yet another inquired, capturing every moment on camera.
Yasin's patience thinned as he raised a hand to silence them, but just then, the four girls stepped into view. In an instant, the media shifted focus, cameras swiveling toward them like sunflowers tracking the sun.
• Erum Zamurd: The Chief Representative of Khandan-e-Zamurd. (The one in wine-red abaya.)
• Zoya Kulgin: The Chief Representative of Khandan-e-Kulgin, and the daughter of Yasin Hussain. (The one in black abaya and cap.)
• Dua Burtuqal: The Chief Representative of Khandan-e-Burtuqal. (The one in brown abaya.)
• Enayat Zamurd: The free spirit. (The one who played the role of victim.)
Erum stood confidently at the front, her presence commanding attention. Beside her, Zoya, pulled off her cap with a grin, her bravado evident. Dua held her ground, while Enayat, flashed a carefree smile that lightened the atmosphere.
The reporters swarmed them.
"Erum, how did you plan the surprise?" a journalist asked.
"Zoya, what was it like being stuck in the elevator?" another inquired, clearly fascinated.
Dua shrugged playfully. "We just wanted to make memories!"
Enayat added, "And we didn't expect a police intervention at our party!"
Amidst the whirlwind of questions, Yasin watched, a mix of pride and exasperation on his face. He stepped back, letting the girls take center stage, recognizing that sometimes, it was best to let their laughter drown out the chaos.
He watched as they talked, laughed, and smiled, a warmth spreading through him. His heart swelled with love for his daughter and her friends, whom he treated like his own.
Khandan-e-Zamurd, Khandan-e-Kulgin, and Khandan-e-Burtuqal-the three elite families. Yasin wished for this bond to remain unbroken. The friendship among the representatives of these powerful families filled him with hope, convincing him that these girls would never disappoint him. As he stood back, he realized that their laughter echoed the strength of unity that transcended their family legacies, and perhaps, in this moment, they were all truly safe.
It was peaceful.
And he was grateful for it.
Everything was perfect.
Truly perfect.
"Dad!" Zoya called out for the third time, dragging Yasin Hussain out of his thoughts.
"Y-yeah?" he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
"We won't talk to you, uncle!" Enayat declared, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Now why is that?" he asked, feigning confusion.
"You still haven't wished us," Dua chimed in.
"Oh, my bad. Happy 6th Friendship Anniversary," he said, forcing a smile.
"Uncle..! It's so dry!" Erum pouted.
"Don't tell me you all expect a big grand party after this scene at Z Plaza," he countered.
"But-" Erum started, but Zoya jumped in, arguing like a five-year-old.
Erum felt as if their voices faded in the background, she was looking somewhere.
Far.
In the shadows.
There was someone.
Who appears to be..
..whatever.
She just ignored and turned her attention back to Yasin Hussain and her friends, determined not to let anything ruin their celebration.
Yasin Hussain stood back, watching the four girls bicker like children. "Alright, enough of this! Time to head home," he said, a chuckle escaping him as he tried to restore some order.
"Do we have to?" Erum pouted, crossing her arms defiantly.
"Yes, you do! It's getting late," Yasin insisted, though a smile lingered on his lips.
Reluctantly, they exchanged glances, and after a chorus of half-hearted protests, they finally agreed. As they made their way to the parking lot, excitement filled the air.
"Race to home?" Zoya suggested, a competitive spark in her eyes.
"Definitely!" Erum replied, grinning. The others nodded in agreement, adrenaline coursing through them.
They each settled into their sporty cars, vibrant machines that reflected their personalities. Erum's sleek red car, Zoya's elegant black, Dua's bold orange, and Enayat's striking green.
"On the count of three!" Zoya called out, her hands gripping the steering wheel.
"One... two... three!" With that, they revved their engines, the powerful roar echoing in the lot before they shot off, tires screeching against the pavement.
As they raced down the streets, laughter and shouts filled the air. Each girl pushed her car to its limits, the thrill of competition driving them faster.
Erum surged ahead, expertly navigating the twists and turns, her confidence evident. Enayat was hot on her heels, determined to keep pace.
As they approached their neighborhood, Erum's heart raced with excitement; victory was within reach. With a final burst of speed, she crossed the imaginary finish line first, pulling into the parking area of their shared house.
Enayat followed closely, taking second place, while Zoya and Dua arrived a bit later, both laughing at their spirited race.
Erum stepped out of her car, beaming with pride. "I did it!" she exclaimed, reveling in her triumph.
Enayat joined her, breathless but grinning. "You were amazing! I almost caught you!"
Dua hopped out of her car, clapping her hands. "We can't ever beat the Monster of Tracks!" she called out, her voice filled with admiration.
Erum laughed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Thanks, Dua! I guess the title fits!"
Zoya rolled her eyes playfully. "Well, next time, we'll have to come up with a better strategy."
Erum winked back, a spark of competition in her eyes. "Bring it on!"
As they entered their home, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Balloons and streamers in shades of green, purple, and orange filled the space, casting a vibrant glow. A large cake, decorated with intricate designs, stood proudly on the table.
Zoya's eyes widened in surprise. "What is all this?"
Just then, Yasin stepped into view, a proud grin on his face. "How could I forget my daughters' Friendship Anniversary?" he declared, his voice warm and inviting.
"Dad!" Zoya rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
At that moment, Erum's father, Jibran Ahmed, emerged from the kitchen, his smile equally bright. "Did someone say celebration?" he asked, his eyes sparkling.
Erum dashed to him, enveloping him in a hug. "Oh, baba!" she exclaimed, her heart swelling with joy.
The other girls quickly joined in, laughter echoing through the room. Jibran and Yasin exchanged knowing glances, both treating these girls as their own daughters.
As they pulled away, Erum looked around at the decorations, her heart swelling with happiness. "This is amazing!"
"We couldn't let you girls celebrate alone," Jibran replied, ruffling Erum's hair affectionately.
The room buzzed with excitement as they began to cut the cake, each slice a symbol of their friendship. They chatted about their years together, savoring every moment.
This was a moment to cherish.
One that would linger in their hearts for years to come.
Joy is beautiful.
Life is easy.
And amazing.
Yet..
Sorrow is waiting for them.
Betrayal is waiting for them.
Unexpected changes are waiting for them.
Nothing in this world comes with ease.
There is always something to shift.
Someone to suffer.
And that's going to happen.
To either one of them.
Or.
All of them