The Pain and Fire of Revenge

By [Rich Flower]

A daughter’s silent war for truth, love, and the price she paid for vengeance.

Rain was falling — not gently, but like the heavens were trying to wash away some unspoken pain. The dark streets of Lahore echoed with silence as a white car slowly glided through them. Behind the wheel sat Zainab — calm-faced, tearless, but with a storm raging quietly inside her. Her lips parted only to whisper:

“It’s time.”

Ten years had passed since that cursed day. The day her mother was burned alive in the village square. The crime? Daring to speak against the tyranny of a powerful landlord — Malik Yasir.

Zainab had been only fifteen. She remembered every scream, every flicker of the flames, and most of all — her mother’s eyes silently begging her to survive. That night, Zainab did not just lose her mother. She buried her childhood, her laughter, and her innocence with her.

But she made a vow.

She would never let those screams die unheard.

She left the village, changed her identity, and became Aamna. Over the years, she buried herself in books, gained knowledge, and carved out a new life. But inside, she carried a fire — not the one that burned her mother, but the one that would one day consume her mother’s killer.

Malik Yasir had risen in power. Now a celebrated politician, he sat in glittering halls, praised by the very society that turned a blind eye to his crimes. And fate — cruel or kind — brought his son, Farhan Yasir, to Zainab’s university.

Farhan was gentle, kind-hearted, and untouched by his father’s filth. He found something in Aamna’s quiet sorrow that pulled him in. Zainab, under her mask, allowed it — not out of affection, but strategy. His heart was her doorway to vengeance.

One day, Farhan said:

"You always look like you’re carrying a story in your eyes, Aamna. A story too heavy to speak."

She smiled faintly.

"Some stories aren’t told… because all that’s left is ash."

Their bond grew, and slowly, Zainab crept closer to the den of the beast. An opportunity arose — a private party at Malik Yasir’s mansion. For the first time in ten years, Zainab saw the man who murdered her mother — now older, but still wrapped in the same arrogant smile.

“Have we met before?” he asked, eyeing her curiously.

Zainab replied calmly, "Maybe… in the flames of a memory."

That night, Zainab broke her silence. She told Farhan the truth — everything. Her real name, her mother’s murder, the pain, the fire, the vow.

Farhan went pale.

"This... this can’t be true. My father… he… no."

"It is," she said, her voice shaking. "I used you. I admit it. But not anymore. The truth deserves a voice. Now it’s your choice — stop me, or stand with me."

Farhan disappeared for days. Zainab didn’t wait. She gathered evidence, tracked down witnesses, and prepared for court. She had no expectations. Her battle was personal.

But then… Farhan returned.

In court, in front of flashing cameras and stunned faces, he took the stand.

He testified against his own father.

The courtroom was heavy with disbelief. Zainab, standing at the witness stand, held her breath as Malik Yasir’s crimes unfolded before the world. The verdict was loud and final:

Guilty. Sentence: Death.

Zainab did not celebrate. She simply inhaled deeply — as if, for the first time in a decade, her soul could breathe.

But the story wasn’t done.

Days later, a letter arrived. It was from Farhan.

"Zainab,

I loved you. Maybe I still do. But I am the son of the man who killed your mother. I stood by truth, but I lost myself. I gave justice to the world, but took away my right to live.

When you read this, I’ll be gone.

You won…

But forgive me for leaving you with another death.

— Farhan"

Zainab held the letter to her chest and broke down. The tears she’d buried for a decade finally poured. Her revenge had been complete… but love had become its final casualty.

She went to her mother’s grave — the same place she once vowed revenge.

"I did it, Maa. I gave you justice. But I lost more than I imagined. Another grave, another silence. I’m tired, Maa. So tired..."

And she knelt down beside the grave, drenched in rain, her head bowed in defeat, her soul empty.

Thunder cracked in the sky. And somewhere deep inside the earth, two broken hearts found a moment of peace.

End:

Justice was served.

Love died in its wake.

And a daughter burned alone in the silence she once rose from.