In the Depth of the Heart - Chapter 27: Chapter 27

In the Car – On the Way Home from the Open Mic Event
They drove through the night, the streetlights casting flickers of light over John and Usman's faces. Zuhra sat silently in the back seat, staring out the window, though her eyes saw nothing. Her heart felt like it was breaking—like something fragile was quietly shattering within.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice trembling with sorrow:
Zuhra (softly):
“Please... don’t tell him you knew it was Kamal. Don’t say anything about Kamal. Please, Usman... John…”
Usman didn’t turn, but he exhaled slowly, eyes still fixed on the road.
John (gently):
“Zuhra... we hear you. But this time, things went too far. Just… stop all of this, completely.”
Zuhra (leaning back, tears falling):
“I won’t do it again. But... Kamal doesn’t deserve this hatred. He didn’t do anything to me.”
The car continued through the night in silence — a heavy silence, weighed down by hearts filled with worry and unanswered questions.
Home, Hyderabad – Courtyard
The car pulled into the courtyard. The outside light illuminated Zuhra’s tear-streaked face. John and Usman got out and opened her door. She stepped out slowly, saying nothing.
Zuhra (softly, without looking at them):
“Thank you... and... please, let’s leave it like this.”
She walked directly toward the small corridor door at the side of the house — a path that led straight to her room. She didn’t want to pass through the living room where her father would be waiting. She slipped into the dark corridor, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
John and Usman went toward the living room.
Outside the Event Hall – After Zuhra Left
Kamal remained sitting, body weak. His hand rested on his bruised stomach. The pain wasn’t just physical — it was the sting of being torn away from Zuhra. His phone sat beside him. He picked it up and scrolled through his contacts.
He tapped on the name “Munir.”
Kamal (with a tired but composed voice):
“Munir… come pick me up… I can’t ride my bike. I’ve got no strength left.”
Munir (on the phone):
“I’m near the junction, just a short while. Stay somewhere lit.”
In less than ten minutes, a dark-colored car pulled up. Munir rushed out and hurried over to Kamal.
Munir (worried):
“How’s your body? Who did this to you?”
Kamal (with a faint smile):
“Her father’s soldiers… John and Usman.”
Munir:
“See? I told you this could happen.”
Kamal:
“Just drive. Let’s go home.”
They got into the car. Munir glanced at Kamal with sympathy as he carefully pulled the car away.
Home – Munir’s House
Munir drove Kamal to his house. The compound was quiet. The courtyard light glowed dimly, but all interior lights were off — like the household was asleep. Munir paused at the front door.
Munir (softly):
“Will you manage to get to your room? Or should I help you inside?”
Kamal:
“Just help me to the corridor. I’ll handle the rest.”
Munir stepped out and supported Kamal from the side. They entered the house slowly. As they approached the living room, the silence was noticeable. No mommy, no daddy — it was as if the house was empty.
Munir (checking Kamal again):
“If anything comes up, call me. Don’t face it all alone.”
Kamal (with a pained smirk):
“How can I call you, when you kept calling me from the beginning and I wouldn’t listen?”
Munir (placing a hand on his shoulder):
“Whenever you return from the chaos inside you… your friend is still here.”
Kamal gave a faint smile. He moved slowly toward his room, body weary like one drained of strength, heart filled with fear of losing the girl he was beginning to care about more than any woman he’d ever known.
Hyderabad – Living Room
Brigadier Imran sat in the living room, sipping hot water from a small cup. His eyes were on the clock, mind deep in thought. After a short while, John and Usman entered calmly.
Brigadier Imran (looking at them):
“You brought her back?”
John:
“Yes, sir. She’s in her room now.”
Usman:
“The school event was over, but it wasn’t an academic activity. It was one of those 'Open Mic' things.”
Brigadier Imran:
“Open Mic? And this is the first time I’m hearing that name...? Who’s the boy I said you should keep away from her? I know you saw him.”
John and Usman exchanged glances. Then John composed himself and lied smoothly:
John:
“We don’t know his name, sir. But he didn’t look like someone from her school. And... she didn’t act like they were close.”
Usman:
“Seemed like just a classmate. Still, we warned him firmly.”
Brigadier Imran gave them a sharp look — the kind only a soldier gives when he senses the truth is being hidden. But he said nothing. He simply raised a hand:
Brigadier Imran:
“You can go rest. But if I ever hear my name is being dragged into shame by this nonsense again, I won’t be so lenient.”
As they left, he called out loudly:
Brigadier Imran:
“Zuhra!!”
She was in her room, wiping her tears. His voice stabbed at her heart. Her heart raced with fear of what would come next.
She stepped out, standing before her father with her head down.
Brigadier Imran:
“What do I always tell you, Zuhra? Exams start this weekend. And you’re out at music shows?! I swear, if you fail your exams, you’ll leave this house and go find yourself another father!”
Zuhra (composed, speaking with respect):
“Daddy, I know I was wrong… and I won’t repeat it.”
Brigadier Imran:
“I don’t want words. I want results. And don’t you dare drag my name into disgrace with this kind of behavior again.”
Zuhra closed her eyes, holding back the tears. She turned and quietly returned to her room. But in her heart, Kamal’s words still echoed in her ears.
At Munir’s House
Kamal lay on his mattress. His body ached from the beating, and his heart was heavy with thought. His phone lay beside him. He kept rereading the message that had gone unanswered. Then he closed his eyes, smiling through the pain.
Kamal (in his heart):
“Even if I stay locked in this house forever… this love, I can’t let go of it. Zuhra, I’ll wait for you.”