It was breakfast time again in Zenith, Titan Hall, and Lunara. But unlike other mornings, there was no laughter, no cheerful chatter. The news of the broken engagement still hung heavy in the air. Every face looked pale and dull with grief. Every face except Areesha’s. She sat with a light smile, happily enjoying her breakfast as if nothing had happened.
“You should have told me before saying such a thing in front of everyone,” Jalal Razamir’s voice was hard, cutting through the silence.
Nadia Begum lowered her eyes, guilt all over her face. “What could I do? She began speaking before I could stop her. Areesha had been asking me for days to tell you, but I… I didn’t have the courage.”
Jalal’s jaw tightened. His hand gripped the edge of the table. “Do you even realize how broken Ariz must be right now? How happy we all were, waiting for this union. And now?”
“But you must also think about your daughter’s future, Jalal,” Nadia Begum tried to defend herself, glancing at Areesha with worry. “How can she marry a blind man?”
Zaroon, who had been quiet, finally spoke with a small spark of hope in his voice. “His eyesight will return one day, Insha’Allah.”
But Areesha only shook her head. “I can’t live with that hope, Baba. I want a partner who can take responsibility for me… not someone I will have to look after like a patient all my life.”
Her words made Jalal Raza Mir freeze. His sharp eyes fell on his daughter, and for a moment, the room went completely silent. Then, in a low, stern voice, he said, “You will regret this decision one day.”
Without another word, he pushed back his chair and left the table, his steps echoing in the stillness.
--------
The morning sun poured through the tall windows of Zenith Palace, painting the marble floor in golden shades. The long dining table was full, yet the silence was heavy. Today, even Saif and Mikhail were present for breakfast, which made the air feel more serious.
Mikhail sat with his usual stone-cold expression, focused only on the cup of tea before him. Mishal, sitting a few seats away, stole a quick glance at him. Her tiny heart skipped a beat, though fear followed right after. Why is he always so serious? she thought, lowering her eyes back to her plate. No matter how much she tried, her gaze kept pulling back to him, and Mikhail, sharp as always, felt her eyes.
He didn’t look at her at first, but after a while, his gaze shifted just enough to catch her. A faint smile almost tugged at his lips, but he held it back, keeping his mask of seriousness intact.
At the head of the table, Zafar Razamir was sipping tea, discussing business matters with his son. Aariz listened calmly, answering questions, while Saif, as always, leaned back in his chair with a lazy air.
"I think we need to go now," Aariz finally said, setting his cup aside. "Today’s fashion show won’t wait for us."
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But before they could rise, Saif cleared his throat.
"Before leaving, I want to give a suggestion."
Aariz chuckled softly. "Zavian, Ruhan, you both should head to university. This is going to take time. His talks never end."
That brought faint smiles around the table, but Saif stayed serious. "No one is leaving until you all hear me." His voice carried a firmness unusual for him.
The room went still. Even Mishal looked up in surprise.
"I want to talk about last night’s conversation," Saif began, turning to his uncle. "Bade Papa, I’m sorry for what my sister did. She didn’t realize what she was losing."
At that very moment, Jalal Razamir entered. His footsteps stopped at the doorway as he overheard his son’s words. Slowly, he stepped in, his expression softer than usual, and everyone turned to look at him.
Meanwhile, Saif continued. "Five years ago, when we built Imperial Threads, it was just for fun, a way to escape from construction files. But today, it’s our passion. And this evening, we’re coming back after the accident. The show that never happened two years ago, Insha’Allah, it will win hearts today."
The elders nodded quietly. Pride and hope reflected in their eyes.
"But there’s another matter," Saif said firmly, "and I won’t leave it unsaid. Me and Mikhail will only marry after we find a bride for Aariz."
Aariz’s head turned sharply, his face startled. "Are you mad? What are you saying?"
"You shut up." Saif didn’t even look at him. Instead, he faced Zafar and Nafeesa Begum.
"Bade Papa, Badi Ammi, will you be with us in finding his bride? He deserves the best."
"Of course," Nafeesa Begum replied without hesitation, her voice full of emotion. "We will find the best bride for our son."
Before anyone else could speak, Jalal finally sat beside his brother, a rare smile lighting his face. Everyone turned to him, surprised. They hadn’t seen him smile like this in years.
"We’re sorry for Areesha’s behavior," Jalal said, his tone gentler than usual. "But Zafar bhai, Saif is right. If we want the other boys married, we must first find Aariz’s bride."
Zafar nodded slowly. "We’ll talk about this in the evening. For now, we’re getting late."
The three brothers rose from the table. Mikhail’s eyes flickered toward Mishal just as she dared to glance at him. Their gazes met just for a heartbeat and both looked away quickly, their hearts racing.
Ruhan, watching closely, smirked and nudged Zavian. His lips were ready to spill some teasing, but one look at their father and Chacha Sahib kept him silent.
The breakfast ended, leaving behind unspoken thoughts and the heavy promise of decisions to come.
-------
The sleek Rolls Royce Phantom Black Edition stopped at the entrance of Imperial Threads. The tall glass doors gleamed proudly under the sunlight, reflecting the dream these three cousins had built with their own hands.
Aariz stepped out, dressed impeccably in his dark office attire. The maroon-tinted glasses hid the emptiness in his eyes, but nothing could hide the elegance in his presence. Mikhail and Saif flanked him. Brothers, cousins, and friends guiding him toward the entrance.
Inside, the place was alive. Designers rushed with sketches clutched in their hands, models in shimmering gowns practiced their walks, lights were tested, and the grand ramp glowed under rehearsal beams. The air was thick with perfume, fabric, and anticipation.
Mikhail described everything in detail to Aariz. The dresses, the stage, the lights. Saif added his cheerful comments, joking about the nervous models. Aariz listened quietly, his lips curving into a bitter smile. His eyes longed to see this world he had created, but there was nothing only darkness. He quickly tilted his face away, hiding the wetness that threatened to escape behind those maroon glasses.
Later, in Mikhail’s office, the two brothers sat going over the guest list. Saif had gone downstairs to check the ramp and final arrangements.
“I’m going to Germany tomorrow,” Aariz said suddenly, his voice firm.
Mikhail stopped flipping the pages and looked up. “What? Tomorrow? All of a sudden?”
“I want to give it another try,” Ariz replied, his voice quiet but heavy. “But it should stay between you and me. Don’t tell Saif. He’s sensitive. I don’t want him troubled. He should be at ease.”
Mikhail leaned back, watching him carefully. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“No,” Aariz tried to stop him. “Save your time. Don’t waste your...”
“Either I come with you or I’ll tell Bade Papa everything,” Mikhail interrupted, his voice hard.
Aariz sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. Okay.”
-------
By evening, the grand hall filled with guests, flashing cameras, and buzzing media. The chandeliers glittered, and the runway stretched proudly under the spotlights. Their fathers, Zafar Razamir and Jalal Raza Mir, kamal Razamir sat in the front rows with their families, eyes filled with pride.
The lights dimmed. The show began.
The first theme was deep and emotional, a reflection of Aariz’s inner world. Models in black and maroon walked first, symbolizing pain, loss, and hidden scars. The audience went silent, moved by the haunting beauty of the designs.
Then came Saif’s part bright, playful, full of energy. His collection brought colors, flowing fabrics, and cheerful cuts that made the crowd smile.
Mikhail’s line followed, sharp, bold, disciplined. Every piece spoke of power and control, mirroring his own serious nature.
The Imperial Threads fashion show ended in a storm of applause. Cameras flashed, reporters called out questions, and the hall filled with cheers as the final models took their bow. The collection had been a success. Its theme spoke of shadows, silence, and unseen strength, reflecting the journey of Aariz. Alongside that, Saif’s playful touch and Mikhail’s sharp precision showed in the designs too. Together, the three were introduced to the media as The Razamir Trinity, a trio that no one could ignore.
After the stage lights dimmed, guests gathered in the refreshment hall. Waiters moved around with trays of sparkling drinks and delicacies while conversations filled the air. Aariz, guided by his stick, moved slowly towards the center when suddenly...
Bump!
A tray of glasses almost slipped from a waiter nearby as a girl collided with Aariz.
“Are you blind or what....” she started sharply but froze mid-sentence when Aariz’s calm voice answered, steady but laced with a quiet pain.
“Yes. I’m blind.”
Her lips parted in surprise. The words she had spoken so carelessly struck her like a sting.
Before the silence could stretch, Saif rushed to Aariz’s side. “I’m sorry, miss. He’s my brother. It was crowded, you must have not noticed.”
Mikhail, standing tall behind them, added in his deep voice, “And our Aariz never minds, so neither should you.”
The girl blinked, lowering her gaze. She wore a modest hijab that matched her emerald-green dress, her presence simple yet striking. She gave a small nod, her voice softer now.
“I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m… Ayat. Ayat Alvi. I run a boutique of my own. I was invited to see your show tonight, and I must say, it was brilliant.”
Saif’s lips curved into a grin. “A boutique? Then you must have an eye for detail. Tell me, which design did you like the most? Don’t worry, you can say mine, it’s usually the favourite.”
Mikhail shook his head at his cousin’s antics but couldn’t help the corner of his lips twitching. “Ignore him. He’s fishing for compliments.”
Ayat chuckled lightly, then turned her gaze toward Aariz, whose face was calm though hidden behind his maroon glasses. “The designs were all beautiful… but the ones that carried the theme of darkness...” she hesitated, then finished softly, “They touched me the most.”
Aariz’s head tilted slightly at her words, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Then perhaps, Ayat, you understood them better than most.”
The air between them grew still for a moment, as if something unspoken had just begun. Saif quickly clapped his hands together, breaking it with his usual brightness.
“Well, Miss Ayat Alvi, welcome to the madness of Imperial Threads. Stick around, you’ll find we’re just as interesting off the runway.”
Ayat’s eyes lingered briefly on Aariz before she smiled politely at all three. “I’ll remember that.”
-------
The evening breeze had softened, the sky now painted in shades of dusky orange. While the younger ones still laughed in the lawn, three women sat together under the shade of the wide opened hall to the lawn mase in the centre of the beautiful lawn. Begum Nafeesa, Begum Salman, and Begum Nadia. Their cups of tea rested untouched, the silence heavier than their words.
Salman Begum broke it first, her voice edged with disapproval.
“Nadia, I must say this straight. What your daughter did wasn’t right. Calling Aariz a blind man and refusing the marriage so openly, this has not only hurt him, but our whole family too. How could she say such a thing?”
Nafeesa Begum lowered her gaze, her lips pressing into a faint, sad smile. She had always carried her son’s pain with silent patience, but today her heart ached more deeply. “Aariz has never complained,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “He learned to live with his loss of sight. But the words your daughter spoke, Nadia… they pierced him. A man can bear disability, but insult… that breaks the spirit.”
Nadia Begum shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening around her cup. She tried to keep her tone calm, almost defensive. “Sister, don’t take Areesha’s words so harshly. She is young, emotional. Perhaps she did not think before speaking. I only wish you wouldn’t worry for Aariz. InshaAllah, a better girl will be chosen for him, someone who will understand him.”
But instead of comfort, her words cut deeper. Nafeesa’s sad smile faded into silence. She looked away toward the garden as though hiding the storm in her eyes. Salman Begum sighed heavily, her disapproval sharper now.
“Nadia, this is not about a proposal refused. This is about the way it was refused. Your daughter humiliated a man who already carries enough of life’s trials. What if such words echo in his heart forever? Do you know what it feels like when your child is made to feel less than others?”
Nadia Begum swallowed hard, guilt flickering in her eyes, but pride still made her tongue stiff. “I will speak to Areesha,” she said finally, her voice low. “She should not have said it. But what is written will happen. Perhaps it was never destined.”
Nafeesa Begum said nothing further. She only rose slowly, her dupatta falling gracefully over her shoulders, and excused herself with dignity. Her silence said more than her words ever could.
--------
The night was alive with success. Flashes of cameras, cheers of the crowd, and the applause of the fashion world still echoed in their minds as the three cousins returned to their palaces. Imperial Threads was finally back as stronger, brighter, and grander than ever.
Smiling faintly, Aariz paused before entering Zenith. His hand rested on the polished golden door, but instead of stepping in, he turned.
“Saif,” he called softly.
Saif, who had been walking towards Titan Hall, stopped at once. At Ariz’s voice, he jogged back, his boyish energy contrasting against Aariz’s calm, composed demeanour.
“What happened, bhai(brother)?” he asked, a little out of breath.
Aariz ’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “I’m leaving for Germany tomorrow.”
Saif froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Tomorrow? All of a sudden?”
“Yes,” Aariz said quietly, his voice calm yet heavy.
“I want to give it one last try. Maybe… just maybe, I’ll see the lights again.”
Saif’s face lit up instantly, hope sparking in his eyes. Without another word, he pulled Aariz into a tight hug. “You will, InshaAllah. I know you will.”
But before Aariz could reply, Saif’s voice grew firmer, almost protective. “I’m coming with you.”
Aariz shook his head gently. “No, Saif. You need to stay back. I want you to take care of everything here. The family, the fashion house, our people. We still don’t know who’s trying to cut our roots, who our enemies are. I can’t leave with the fear of you being unsafe.”
Saif leaned back, his eyes glistening. “But Aariz, how can I let you go alone?”
“I'm not alone,” Aariz said with quiet strength.
“Mikhail is coming with me. That’s enough. What I need from you is something only you can give me.” He placed a hand on Saif’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Stay safe. Protect the family. Keep your guards with you every time you step out of the palace. Promise me.”
Saif swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “And you? You’ll be fine… right?”
Aariz smiled, his expression softening. “Your love and your prayers are with me. That’s enough for me to be fine."
Tears brimmed in Saif’s eyes as he hugged his brother again, tighter this time, as if afraid to let go. “You have to be okay, bhai. You just have to.”
Aariz tapped his back gently, his voice warm with affection. “I will. Now go. Rest. Once I return, we’ll take your baraat to Lahore.”
That pulled a laugh out of Saif despite the heaviness in his chest. “And once you return, I’ll have your bride found. Remember, we’ll get married on the same day.”
Aariz chuckled, shaking his head. “Done, best friend.”
“Pakki baat(really).” Saif raised his hand in mock oath.
“Pakki,” Aariz repeated with a nod.
They hugged once more, and then Saif walked away towards Titan Hall, his steps slow, his heart restless.
Aariz stood there for a long moment, the faintest smile touching his lips as he whispered, “Ya Allah, give me strength and give him peace."
As Saif disappear into the Titan Hall, the echoes of their brotherly laughter still warm in his heart. With a faint smile, he turned back and walked towards Zenith’s entrance. The staff stood respectfully, lowering their gazes as he passed. Their whispers carried behind him like fragile wind.
“I wish Aariz baba could see again…” one of them said softly before hurrying back to work.
Aariz ’s steps were steady and confident despite the darkness in his eyes. He reached the golden-paneled elevator, its doors shining like molten sunlight against the marble floor. With a quiet chime, it opened. He stepped inside, pressing his hand on the top button, and the lift ascended smooth.
Ariz stepped out of the elevator, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble floor. Before him stretched a long corridor, wide and grand, lined with tall golden lamps that threw a warm glow on the dark walls. Expensive paintings hung neatly, each frame touched with gold, and the thick black carpet beneath his shoes silenced his steps.
At the end of the corridor was his room. He pushed the heavy golden door open, and the scent of polished wood and roses welcomed him.
The room was huge, decorated in a dark golden and black theme that matched his personality. In the centre stood a large king-sized bed, its black sheets shining softly under golden lights, with heavy pillows stacked neatly. Across from the bed, a tall mirror with a carved golden frame leaned against the wall, though he had not looked into it for years. Beside it stood a wide bookshelf, filled with rows of novels, business journals, and poetry books that he often asked his staff or cousins to read aloud for him.
The curtains were thick, velvet black with golden embroidery, falling all the way to the floor. A soft breeze slipped in from the half-open balcony doors, carrying the smell of night flowers. Outside, the balcony opened into a private space with a swing pool that sparkled under the moonlight. Beyond it was a small terrace, filled with trimmed plants and fairy lights, his hidden corner of peace
Inside, one side of the room was designed like a dressing gallery. Rows of fine suits hung perfectly arranged, polished shoes in their places, and on a glass shelf, his collection of luxury watches gleamed under the soft lights. Each watch was a story, each one chosen carefully in the days when he could see.
He placed his glasses on the side table, leaned back on the velvet sofa, and let the silence of the room swallow him. A faint smile touched his lips, but behind it was the weight of a heart still longing for light.
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A/N:: Hi lovely readers.
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