𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐀

2. 𝗛𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗸𝗮𝗿 𝗮𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗶..

'Kuch toh haqeeqat, kuch toh khwab pura karna hai. Bohot se log hai jinka hisab karna hai.'

Third person's pov

A man in his mid thirties walked hastily to the main office where his soon to be mafia leader had meetings with his associates or rivals.

His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. He cursed under his breath. Living in a mansion, which almost was a haveli, had long passages and now he was drained to a level where he was dragging his body to their leader's cabin.

He came to a stop and knocked on the door before entering.

"Kya maine kaha tum andar aa sakte ho?" A loud voice growled in the room.

Arya rolled his eyes, "Yeh maamla bhot zaruri hai aur tumhari tawajju ka mutaqazi hai."

His face was hidden behind the laptop screen because of it Arya was only able to see his sea green eyes which glimmered like an emerald.

His eyes were glued to the laptop, "Mamla chahe kitna bhi zaruri kyo na ho, ainda yeh gustakhi karne ki himmat nahi karo. Khas ho iska matlab yeh nahi ki yeh badsalookhi bardasht karu."

Arya sighed. After all, Altan Mirza was going to be crowned as the 'Sultan' and no matter if he was his friend or not, he should attribute that honor to him.

"Ho gayi galti. Kya tum ab sunoge?"

"Aap sunane ki zehmat karenge toh sunenge."

"Rashid, muhn nahi khol raha."

As these words escaped Arya's mouth, Altan's fingers ceased on the keyboard. He shut down the laptop completely and kept it aside.

Now when he got to see the whole form of Arya, he wasn't stunned to see his appearance.

His knuckles had dried blood on them, his white shirt was creased and had blood stains on it. One side of the shirt was tucked in and the other was loosely hanging out. His hair was a mess. Even though Arya stood at a very good distance, Altan could see some blob of blood on his face too. He could see how his warm honey eyes looked dead and were completely worn out.

Altan placed his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers, "Pichle 6 ghanto se tum ussey ek khabar nahi nikalwa sake?"

"Yakeen maano mera har tareeka apna lia, chaar daant, dono haatho se teen-teen nakhun aur chehre ka toh pura geography bhi badal dia tab bhi kuch bolne ko woh razi nahi. Bas ek hi baat kehta hai," Arya rubbed his hands on his face, "Mennu kuch khabar naisi."

(I don't know anything)

Altan leaned back and smirked, "Jidu main apne tareeqe naal bolan lag pya na, odhu odha pyo vi muh kholuga."

(Ab main mere tareeqe se bolne lagaunga tab uska baap bhi muh kholega.)

Arya nodded, "Toh ab karna kya hai?"

Altan stood up to his height and removed his blazer. Pulling out the cuffs of his black shirt, he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his toned veiny hands.

"Karna kya hai? Yeh wohi batayega." Altan left the office, with Arya trailing behind him to the basement which was installed in the mansion's bottom.

A number of thoughts roamed around his head but a female voice which echoed on top amongst them in his mind had him close his eyes.

'Mere Altan..'