Scene 1 – Hospital Corridor
The pale sunlight of late morning filtered through the tall hospital windows. Nurses bustled about, their footsteps echoing lightly against the marble floor. Sara stood near the bed, her hand lightly gripping the edge of the table for balance. Her color had returned, her face was brighter now, and she looked healthier than the weak girl who had been admitted weeks ago.
Noman carefully zipped the small travel bag, folded Sara's shawl neatly, and placed it inside.
"Bags are ready," he said with a smile, his eyes soft with relief.
Sara tied her hair back and looked at her brother. "I still remember the night Mama and Baba's plane went down. I thought my whole world ended. You hugged me and said, 'I will protect you from everything bad. I'll never leave you alone.' Noman… you're still keeping that promise."
Noman turned, resting his hands on her shoulders. His voice was steady, though his eyes gleamed. "I know. If Mama was here, she'd never let me send you anywhere alone. She trusted me with you, Sara. I won't fail."
Sara gave a faint laugh. "But you did forget my clothes at home that day."
Noman chuckled. "Everything was rushing. But see—now you got new clothes, and you were demanding them anyway."
She nudged him playfully. "Every time you say, 'Wait for the new collection at Amana Superstore.'"
Their light laughter filled the room. Just then, Dr. Ayesha entered with her stethoscope swinging around her neck. She looked at Sara's glowing face and smiled warmly.
"I think you've waited long enough," Ayesha said. "Your vitals are stable, the stitches are healing, and your strength is coming back. You're cleared to go home."
Sara's eyes brightened. "Home… after so many days."
"Just remember," Ayesha added seriously, "no sudden exertion. Take rest. And you, Noman—don't let her overdo anything."
"Yes, Doctor," Noman replied obediently.
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Scene 2 – Hospital Gate
Outside the hospital, two police SUVs stood ready, their engines idling. The Islamabad police emblem gleamed on the doors. Jibran, in his tactical vest, leaned casually against the bonnet, speaking into his walkie-talkie. His team stood alert around him, their rifles slung across their shoulders.
As soon as Sara and Noman appeared, Jibran straightened. "Finally," he said warmly. "Time to go home. Islamabad has been waiting for you."
Sara nodded, her eyes moist. "Twenty-five days… feels like twenty-five years."
Noman helped her into the back seat of the SUV, then climbed in himself. The vehicles pulled away from the hospital, sirens briefly wailing as they joined the highway leading back to Islamabad.
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Scene 3 – DSP's Office, Quetta Police HQ
Meanwhile, in Quetta, the night was heavy with tension. DSP Farooq sat at his desk, a phone pressed to his ear. The voice of an intelligence officer crackled from the other side:
"Sir, intel confirms—a loaded container will cross the Chaman border tonight at 1 a.m. Smuggled goods—electronics, clothes, food items, and maybe even arms."
Farooq's jaw tightened. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, sir. It's Zafar Ibrahim's channel."
Farooq ended the call slowly, leaning back in his chair. His mind was racing. The smuggling ring wasn't just about illegal goods—it was the artery of Zafar's empire. If they cut this line, they would hit him hard.
He scrolled through his contacts absently, his thumb hovering until it stopped on a familiar name: Major Tariq Bashir (ISI). Without hesitation, he dialed.
The line rang twice before a firm voice answered, "Tariq speaking."
"Tariq, it's Farooq," the DSP said quickly. "Listen—I just got intel. Zafar's men are moving a container across Chaman at 1 a.m. This isn't ordinary contraband. It's part of a network. If we stop this, we cripple him."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then Tariq's voice sharpened. "Don't worry about it. We'll take it from here. Coordinate with us at the outer perimeter. I'll lead a team."
Farooq exhaled with relief. "Good. Send me the plan. I'll have my constables ready."
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Scene 4 – Planning the Operation
Midnight, on the outskirts of Chaman. A convoy of military jeeps and armored vehicles gathered under the faint moonlight. Dust swirled as engines idled.
Major Tariq Bashir, tall, disciplined, and sharp-eyed, stood over a digital map spread across the bonnet of a jeep. Around him were ISI operatives in black gear and a squad of Frontier Corps soldiers. DSP Farooq arrived with his police unit, saluting briskly.
"Welcome, Farooq," Tariq said. "Here's the plan: The container will cross through an unmarked dirt road near the dry riverbed. They'll likely have scouts ahead. We'll position snipers on the ridge, block both exits with armored jeeps, and force them into the kill zone. No one escapes."
Farooq nodded. "My constables will secure the rear. If anyone runs, we'll catch them."
A soldier spoke, "Major, what about air support?"
Tariq shook his head. "No noise. No helicopters. We strike silent and fast. The smugglers must not alert Zafar in Dubai before we extract intel."
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Scene 5 – The Ambush
01:10 a.m. The desert air was cold, the silence broken only by the chirping of insects. The smugglers' container truck appeared in the distance, headlights cutting through the darkness. Two pickup trucks armed with heavy machine guns escorted it.
On the ridge, ISI snipers adjusted their scopes. Major Tariq whispered into his comms:
"Target approaching. Wait for my mark."
The convoy rumbled closer. The ground seemed to tremble under the massive container. Suddenly—
"Now!" Tariq ordered.
Snipers fired, shattering the headlights of the escorts. The desert plunged into darkness. Immediately, armored jeeps roared onto the dirt track, blocking the road ahead and behind.
The smugglers panicked. "Trap! It's an ambush!" one of them screamed. Gunfire erupted as the escorts sprayed bullets wildly into the night.
Major Tariq advanced, crouched behind his jeep door, his rifle spitting precise bursts. "Push forward! Don't let them flank!"
DSP Farooq's constables charged from the rear, their Kalashnikovs cracking loudly. A smuggler tried to escape into the riverbed but was quickly tackled by two constables.
"Clear left! Move right!" Tariq shouted, signaling his commandos. One of the escort pickups tried to ram through the blockade, but an RPG fired from the ridge struck its engine, erupting it in flames.
Inside the container, muffled cries were heard. Tariq's face darkened. "Open that container—now!"
Commandos stormed forward, cutting the heavy locks. The doors swung open, revealing stacks of electronics, clothes, and… hidden compartments. Inside those compartments, several terrified young women cowered—victims of human trafficking.
Farooq clenched his fists. "So this was it… not just goods."
The last of the smugglers surrendered, hands raised. Tariq's voice thundered through the comms:
"Ceasefire! Area secure. Round them up."
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Scene 6 – Aftermath
As dawn painted the sky with streaks of orange, the smugglers were lined up, handcuffed, under heavy guard. The rescued girls were given blankets and water. Some wept quietly; others simply stared in shock.
Major Tariq walked over to Farooq. "We did it. But this is just one artery. Zafar's network stretches across Asia. Tonight, we cut one vein. But the war isn't over."
Farooq nodded grimly. "At least now, we have evidence. Smuggling, weapons, human trafficking. This will shake the courts."
Tariq looked back at the burning wreck of the pickup. "And it will send a message. Zafar thinks he's untouchable in Dubai. Let him know—we're coming."
Farooq extended his hand. "Together, we'll bring him down."
Tariq gripped it firmly. "For Pakistan."
The desert wind carried their words away, but the resolve in their eyes burned brighter than the rising sun.
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