Shahrazad giggled dreamily while staring at the small ancient box of a TV that Shireen owned. Even the village held a newer piece, but Shahrazad was little to complain when such a dreamy scene was unfolding before her eyes. A drama film called Ruposh had already aired a few times in the last month, but each time Shahrazad had insisted on watching it. Luckily for her, neither Nazli nor Shireen nor her family invested their time too much in entertainment and that left Shahrazad with more than enough time to indulge.

"Aww - this is so nice!" She hummed, smiling from ear to ear. Beside her Nazli sat on the table, her golden head bowed over a book and her mouth moving slowly to voice out the words. "Look Nazli! Isn't Salaar Shah just dreamy?"

Her cousin glanced up at perhaps the worst time in the film. Salaar Shah was doing . . . roguish things and the way her cousin's eyes darkened, she knew that the memory of that man had yet to leave her. Asadullah was nothing like Salaar Shah if Shahrazad had to be honest. No, he was thousand times more sadistic and serious in his ambitions. Next to Asadullah, the mafia man, Salaar Shah seemed like a kitten with a feisty temper.

"T-turn it off." Nazli finally muttered, patting the seat next to her. "Fin-ish your home...work."

The younger girl blew a raspberry in annoyance before agreeing to her cousin's request. "I wonder if guys like Salaar Shah exist." Then, she picked up a pencil and began to doodle. Although her cousin said nothing to her comment, she could tell Nazli did not appreciate men like Salaar Shah. Men like him hit too close to home for her cousin. But still, for Shahrazad, a man with an intense love like Salaar Shah's was the best kind of romance a girl could ever imagine.

Rude, but good at heart. Rich, but not a hoarder. Hot-tempered, but gentle to the weak. Smart, with a clever sense of humor. Where on Earth could such a man exist? But as her thoughts trailed on and on, soon the image of Salaar Shah's neck-length hair began to grow shorter into black hair that was gelled back. Soon, Salaar Shah morphed into a man significantly taller, and his broken smile turned into a cruel smirk. Shahrazad gasped at the man who stood before her in her mind. Fahad.

"NO!" She yelled, shaking her head with urgency and great anger upon herself. How could she have thought of him as a potential . . . love interest?

"Wha-what?" Her cousin asked frantically, her eyes shooting to the door and the windows. "What's wrong!"

Shahrazad's blue eyes narrowed. "Like hell would I ever consider that creep to be a potential love interest!"

When she finally met Nazli's eyes, the confusion and fear in the green orbs had turned into a solid emerald green of fury. For once, Shahrazad was lost for words, but in the last few months, her cousin's temper had emerged. Nazli - once a quiet, mellow girl had become paranoid and quick to annoy. And Shahrazad was about to get another one of those talks.

"When will you stop!" She stood up, brushing back her golden strands that clung to her face in the mid-spring heat. "Isn't my incident enough to deter you, Shahrazad!"

The only time her cousin spoke without a stammer, but unfortunately, the words were always despondent. "I am sorry, Nazli! I didn't mean-!"

"Stop it, already, Shahrazad! This whole thing about independence and being free - it's nothing, but a lie! We are sitting here and that man can walk in any day and wreak havoc in our lives again!"

At this Shahrazad's own temper flew. "And what! You want us to go back to the village? The same village where Hamza will marry you forcefully - not even caring about the fact that you are married? And-and Baba? He tried to sell you, for god's sake!"

Her cousin grimaced at the memory, and suddenly as if a storm had suddenly passed, Nazli's own temper slumped along with her body back into the chair. For a few moments, silence accompanied by the chirping of the birds remained in the room, until her cousin's soft voice shook Shahrazad with another truth.

"Y-you have a . . . choice, Shahrazad." Tears hung at the bottom lids of her pained, red eyes. "You are f-f-ree. Free to . . . explore and . . . f-fall in l-l-l-love."

The stammering was getting the better of her, but Shahrazad sat down again, leaning closer and straining her ears to catch every word of her cousin. For Shahrazad, anything Nazli said mattered - she had longed to hear her voice and if this is all she ever spoke of, then it didn't matter to her.

"Look at me! I am t-trapped! It . . . doesn't . . . matter where I go or hide . . ." She sniffled, picking at the tissue and swiping it under her Rudolph-looking nose. ". . . Whether I go - to the v-village, o...r or stay here . . . I am still . . . married . . . to him."

She spat the word as if it left an aftertaste of bitterness, but more than the word, it was the bitterness and ugliness of its truth. Nazli truly was trapped. Married to a man that was running the shots behind the scene. Who knew how far the clutches of his power extended? The police, the supreme court? Were they all slaves to the will of the corrupt?

"It wasn't a valid marriage anyway!" Shahrazad declared, folding her legs in anxiousness. Only their village Qazi would know whether it was or wasn't, and Shahrazad wasn't planning on going all the way to find out the answer. "He forced you! Forced marriages are haraam, as it is!"

Her cousin turned away, brushing tears away from her cheeks as if they were suddenly a nuisance to her. "L-let's j... just study."

And no matter how much Shahrazad prodded on the matter, her cousin would only chew on her lip in deep thought.

***

A few days passed in uncomfortable silence. Shahrazad avoided the TV lounge for she found herself growing rather addicted to romantic TV shows. Even after Nazli's unfortunate incident, the young girl had hopes for her own amazing romance saga, but she really wanted to avoid an episode of what happened last time. Instead, she had started to mingle with girls from her school and would often arrive home later than Nazli.

On the other hand, Nazli detested topics of romance and love. They reminded her of her own chance of romance that had been brutally robbed by a mafia man. But she enjoyed books and TV programs that would talk of freedom and discovery. She admired women that had traveled the world or who carried themselves with strength through means of a job. The thought of having her own income bought hope and misery to her heart. Who would hire a stammering, weak little girl like her? What was she good at anyway? Picking fruits and planting rice weren't exactly jobs that people did in the city.

Shireen gasped, entering through the door as if she had been running for miles. "NAZLI!"

The glass of water that she was sipping on crashed to the ground like the last remaining pieces of hope. He was here. He had found her. She would be trapped again. Perhaps even killed. Thoughts of Khalid being abused for his betrayal sent ripples of dread throughout her body and soon she found herself trembling in the summer heat. Cold sweat ran down her back and her throat was closed up until Shireen spoke again.

"Shahrazad! She's been picked off the street!"

For a few seconds, nothing was said, but the fear in Shireen's brown orbs for Shahrazad clashed with the fading hopelessness in Nazli's green. It sickened her to her stomach that her heart and body while still tense found themselves coming back to life again.

"I . . . what?" She stood up shakily, her small hands gripping the table cloth in confusion. Picked off the street? She was unfamiliar with this term - Shahrazad wasn't a fruit or vegetable that could just be picked off. But the loud gasps and the small wails that were coming from Shireen's mouth made her aware that this wasn't a simple matter of picking fruits or vegetables.

"Some men . . . they came and took off with her." Shireen sunk to the ground, clutching at her strands as if all hope had been lost. Suddenly it was back. The crippling hopelessness that would have buckled her knees and crumpled her to the ground had she not gripped the table hard. Asadullah . . . he was exacting revenge on her. She had betrayed him and so he had isolated her. He would take all forms of her security till she was standing all alone. Then he would strike.

Swallowing thickly, she was not sure how her voice sounded so steady. "What men?"

"A bunch of men from the local farm! They did this last year too - they took off with some girls and-and-and-!" Had Asadullah recruited these men? Was this also his sick ploy?

"And?" Nazli demanded, stepping forward on wobbly legs. "Wh-what did they do to those girls!"

"They took their honor!" Shireen wrapped her arms around herself and a haunting look appeared in her eyes. She quivered, tugging at her sleeves till her shirt stretched so that her pale skin shone through. Nazli did not miss the scars . . . grotesque and faded - her mutilated body spoke the truth of her past that remained unsaid.

"I . . . must - must save her!" Nazli cried, racing towards the door. But her heart was sinking - her innocent naive cousin was in the clutches of men. Shahrazad . . . she was the reason why Nazli had felt alive again. When Asadullah had trapped and locked her away in a cage, Shahrazad had been the key to unlocking her cage. All they had wanted was to be free.

Shireen grabbed her with a strength that Nazli didn't expect the fragile girl to possess. "YOU MUSTN'T!" Like painful vices around her wrist, Shireen ripped the girl away from the door before slamming it shut and bolting it. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT THEY WILL DO TO YOU! YOUR COUSIN IS A LOST CAUSE - NO ONE CAN SAVE HER NOW!"

Nazli's heart chilled to the core at her horror-stricken tone, but not even the most overwhelming force in the world would stop her from chasing her cousin to the ends of the world. "I - I can go to the village! Baba Zaman will send a group of men-!"

"Then you will forever forsake her in the eyes of those who love her. She has already lost her honor . . . no man in the world, father or husband will ever accept her-!"

"SHUT UP!" Nazli screamed in agony, slamming her hands against her ears. Shahrazad . . . without honor? The thought of her body being abused and thrown around in the clutches of filthy men made Nazli wish that she had never left that hotel. In that hotel, she was the victim - if Asadullah had done whatever he had willed, it would have been with her. At least Shahrazad would have been safe. She would have been safe if . . . if they had never left that hotel.

The wails carried in the air and they were only suppressed when Shireen buried Nazli's face in her arms. "Ssh... if saving her without honor is still something you care for, then . . . then seek the man you have repulsed."

Seek the man she had repulsed? He was the reason they were in this mess in the first place. She would have been happy being an unknown person in their village - married to anyone that Baba Zaman had commanded her to. Shahrazad could have found love and independence - she was the apple of everyone's eye. They had been safe in their village - never to know of the dirt that existed beyond their valley until Asadullah had stolen her safe haven. He had stolen her sanctuary and had brought her to this disgusting world. And in doing so, her pure innocent cousin had now become prey in the world of predators.

"Think . . . you stupid girl! You and I are helpless women - I have . . ." She gasped as if reliving a horrifying memory. "I have seen what those men are capable of. The pain, the abuse. More than a lost honor, it is one's soul and dreams that they will steal. If you wish for Shahrazad's life more than her honor, then only that man is powerful enough to save her."

Nazli could bear no more as she shoved herself out of Shireen's arms. "How can I be sure? This could be his doing after all!"

At least the older girl seemed to consider the idea. A thought flickered past her eyes, but then a sudden realization dawned upon her. "Didn't you say Asadullah's family were trying to claim land here? If that is true, then why would he be in cahoots with these farmers?"

But Nazli knew better. "He can do anything he wills. He threatens and blackmails and if all fails, then he has enough money to buy anything or anyone he wills! Y-y-y-you . . . do-don't k-k-k-know him." The stutter had returned now that Nazli's defense was weakening. She wouldn't know what she would do at this point, but to ask Asadullah for help was an idea equally terrifying as going there herself to save Shahrazad.

"It's your choice, Nazli. Even if you think he is or isn't involved, you won't get Shahrazad back on your own." Then Shireen pulled out a number from a drawer - a crumpled piece of paper that had fading numbers written on it. "When you went missing, they had this number distributed in case anyone had any information on you. Think about it, but not too long. It's . . . your cousin's life on the line."

The final words were choked out in pain and the breaking of her voice made Nazli aware of just how much she was hurting. Then the older girl quickly stood up and disappeared into one of the empty rooms, but not before a loud wail escaped her. It sent shivers into Nazli's cold body and once again she felt so alone. Shahrazad.

What was her life worth without Shahrazad? Her constant companion, her friend, her confidante, her sister. Foolhardy and so full of life - if such a thing was to happen, why didn't it happen to me? I was broken as it is - I had no dreams or hopes, what difference would such a thing had made to me? But Shahrazad . . .

With fleeting determination, she cautiously approached the landline. It was almost as if it was Asadullah standing there just like the time he had come guns blazing into her village. Fingers trembling, she dialed the numbers on the spinning wheel and waited as the dialing tone rang. Each time it rang, her heart picked up speed. Would he answer the phone? Would he even listen to her? What if he decided to come and kill her instead? Then Shahrazad would truly be . . .

"Hello?"

A whoosh of breath escaped her at the unfamiliar voice. It was a man - he sounded curt and no-nonsense.

"H-h-hell-o?"

"Who is this?" It asked, but she could already hear movement in the background as if he was tapping on some keys.

"I-I-I . . . c-can I sp-speak to . . . As-ad-ul-ulah?"

The voice did not respond back immediately. Was it her stutter? Had she confused him? But he cleared her doubts instantly when he transferred her line to another number. And then the voice that spoke made her hands and body shake so hard that she almost slammed the phone down.

"What?" Brusque, and anger that flowed too close to the surface - he sounded the same. No, perhaps even worse. Or perhaps it had been too long since she heard a voice that reminded her of how close death was.

"Speak!" Irritation and the high crescendo made her take a loud gasp. She couldn't do this - she just couldn't! Tears pricked her eyes again and the last thing she wanted to do was now give away who she was. He seemed murderous as it was and why would he help her? She had betrayed him.

But just as the phone left her ear, she heard surprise and then the most frightening thing. Her name from his mouth.

"Nazli?" She had never expected concern from him, but to hear his voice sound so mellow and soft was rapidly addling her brain. Shouldn't he be threatening her? Telling her that he was on his way with his pistol to put a bullet in her head? And before he killed her, he would also kill everyone she ever loved in front of her? But did it matter anymore? Shahrazad was her only family and she was . . .

The debilitating thought crippled her composure and she couldn't stop a loud sniffle that tore its way out of her. It was so slight but sounded like a megaton of a bomb that had gone off.

"Do not hang up." He warned, but it hardly sounded like a warning. It was more like a plea - as if he was begging her to not cut him off. She shook her head at her incredulous thoughts - Asadullah didn't beg. "Tell me - are you well?"

"Sha-Sha-Shahrazad!" She gasped having lost all her energy at her name. "S-so-some b-b-b-bad men . . . t-t-t-to-o-o-ok Sh-"

"Okay, I understand." He interrupted as if providing her with some relief, and she heard him picking up things and the sound of clothes rustling. Would he get here fast enough? Would he be able to track Shahrazad down?

His calm composure stunned her. It must seem like regular business to him - kidnappings and murder. Nazli pulled at her strands in frustration at her stupidity - of course, this was normal to him. He was a mafia man. Why had she forgotten that now simply because he had spoken to her nicely for once?

"I-I-I wi-wi-wi-ll lo-ok f-for her to-too."

"NO!" The phone slipped from her hand as she squeaked at the loud roar. He . . . really was angry. He was coming to kill her - this time she was sure he would. He wouldn't spare her. Still, she shakily returned the receiver back to her ear. What more did she have to lose? If he killed her but saved Shahrazad from that hellhole, it would be worth it.

"Do not leave. Do you understand?" She heard the sound of that helicopter. He really was going to come here. She would be standing face to face in front of him again. But after all the fear, there was a slight hope that at least Shahrazad would return to her.

"Do you understand?" He asked again, this time tenderly.

"I - I - I y. . . yes. I - I wi-wi-will give . . . g-give y-y-you the ad-ad-ad-address . . ."

"No need. Just stay put." And with that, the line went dead. Nazli fell to her all fours, straining her ears for the sound of that loud dreadful machine. Surely, he wouldn't be here so fast, but she knew she wouldn't be able to stop the paranoia that would cloud her senses. And . . . how did he know where she was? He had said there was no need for her to tell him the location, but how could he have known? And how long had he known?

***