To fully appreciate this part of the story, it is recommend reading the earlier chapters at the links below:
- A Silent Murder – The Story of Mr. Farid
- A Silent Murder – The Man Before the Fall
- https://mansoormasood.com/a-silent-murder-story-of-mrs-fareed-part-1/
- https://mansoormasood.com/a-silent-murder-story-of-mrs-fareed-part-2/
These stories provide important context and emotional depth that will enrich your understanding of what follows.
After Farid: A Life Unraveled
After the death of Mr. Farid, the house that once echoed with his steady presence felt unbearably silent. But for Lubna, it was not grief that weighed on her — it was confinement. Accustomed to her independence and outgoing lifestyle, the restrictions of Iddah chafed against her restless spirit. Though she was explained clearly — Iddah meant a widow must observe a waiting period of four months and ten days before stepping into society again — Lubna’s cunning mind soon found a loophole.
Islam permitted leaving the house during Iddah only for genuine emergencies. Lubna, ever manipulative, created fake medical emergencies, slipping out of the house at 2 a.m. under the pretense of seeking urgent care, returning before sunrise. Only her daughter, Rukhsana, was taken into confidence; her son Ibrahim remained blissfully unaware. This secret became routine — every few nights, Lubna would stage her drama, always choosing hours when the world slept.
One night, however, fate caught up with her. As she crept in at dawn, she found Ibrahim awake. When he questioned her, concerned how she could drive alone while unwell, she replied coldly, “I have to get used to it. I am a widow now — no one will help me.” A perfect mixture of emotional blackmail and calculated deception.
Lubna had grown increasingly selfish, blind to the example she was setting for her daughter. When she encouraged Ismat, her younger daughter, to talk freely with boys — even when Mr. Farid lay helpless after his stroke — it became clear: Lubna’s desires always came first, morality be damned. Tears had long been her most lethal weapon, and now she had schooled her daughters in the same art.
Though she maintained an outward image of modesty and mourning, the neighbors had started whispering. Lubna, however, always had tearful justifications at the ready, silencing anyone who dared question her integrity.
Meanwhile, life for her sisters had moved on.
Saniya, the eldest, lived alone but proud — raising her daughter with dignity, working hard, and holding her head high. She had long forgiven Lubna’s betrayals in her heart, hoping that Allah’s mercy would change her, unaware of the depths her younger sister had sunk into.
Shabana, the younger, had settled into a comfortable life in Lahore. Her husband, Ihtesham, though average-looking, had a charming and witty personality that made him popular in business circles. After fifteen years, fate decided to bring them back to Karachi as Ihtesham shifted his business — a change Shabana embraced with open arms.
In Karachi, Shabana reconnected with her family. Pitying Lubna’s “lonely widowhood,” Shabana innocently insisted Ihtesham invite Lubna and her children to gatherings. It was an innocent mistake — a mistake that would cost her dearly.
At their first dinner party, Lubna’s eyes widened with greed. The elegant house, the laughter of well-to-do guests, the abundant food, the rich decor — it all inflamed the fire of jealousy that had been smoldering inside her for years. She was determined: she would not be a mere guest. She would become a fixture in this world of comfort and luxury.
Lubna made herself indispensable, fussing over the guests, flattering Shabana, guiding her daughter to behave “perfectly,” and worming her way into every gathering. Her plan was working. Ihtesham was impressed by her helpfulness, seeing only a grieving sister-in-law trying to stay useful.
Soon, Lubna started finding excuses to stay the night after parties, citing decency — “How could two women leave at 3 a.m. alone?” — and Shabana, ever gracious, offered the guest room. What Shabana didn’t see was that Lubna was laying traps — studying Ihtesham’s habits, noticing the cracks she could widen.
At breakfast, where Shabana never sat with her husband, Lubna would magically appear — offering to cook, making sly remarks about how wives should care for their hardworking men. Though Ihtesham brushed her comments aside at first, seeds of dissatisfaction were sown. Slowly, unnoticeably, they began to grow.
As Ihtesham’s business faltered, Lubna tightened her web, always present, always sympathetic. Shabana asked her politely to give them space, but Lubna protested with tears, claiming she only wanted to “see them happy.”
Behind the scenes, a more sinister partnership was unfolding: Lubna and her daughter, Rukhsana, would discuss every move in detail, planning how to make themselves irreplaceable in Ihtesham’s life. It was no accident that Ihtesham began confiding in Lubna — after all, hadn’t she earned his trust? Hadn’t she always been “there” when no one else was?
At a grand family dinner, Saniya noticed Lubna’s disturbing transformation: copying Shabana’s dressing, her mannerisms, even the way she spoke. It was chilling — as if Lubna was trying to become Shabana. Concerned, Saniya warned Shabana, but her words fell on deaf ears. Shabana’s blind trust in her sister would not allow her to see the snake warming itself at her hearth.
The visits increased. Sometimes Lubna would come alone, without her daughter, timing her arrivals to coincide with Ihtesham’s return from work. Her praises grew more pointed; her sympathy became more intoxicating. Slowly, dangerously, Ihtesham began feeling that Lubna understood him in ways Shabana never had.
The inevitable happened: friction entered Shabana and Ihtesham’s once-happy marriage. Minor arguments flared into bitter fights. And who was always there to comfort Ihtesham? Lubna — patient, understanding, always available.
Then came the moment Lubna had been scheming for — a brutal argument where Ihtesham seriously considered leaving Shabana. Victory seemed within Lubna’s grasp.
But fate intervened.
Saniya arrived unexpectedly. Seeing the tension, she had a long, painful conversation with Ihtesham. With tears in her eyes, she revealed Lubna’s true character — her affairs while Mr. Farid lay paralyzed, her manipulations, the scandals she had caused. She also told the facts about the debacle of her marriage with Arif and what all Lubna had done. It was a conversation of shame and sorrow, but Saniya knew it had to be done to save her sister’s marriage.
Shattered by the truth, Ihtesham stepped back. He saw clearly now what he had been blind to for months.
Today, Shabana and Ihtesham live peacefully, their bond stronger than ever. Lubna and Rukhsana, exposed and disgraced, have been shunned by family and friends. Reduced to telling anyone who would listen that “it’s between us and Allah,” they face a lonely future, trapped by their own misdeeds.
Lubna continues to live her life without a trace of guilt or remorse, as if the storms she unleashed were nothing more than passing breezes. This absence of conscience has always been part of her nature, deeply embedded in her personality since the earliest days of her youth. In her own mind, she remains innocent, even noble — convinced that she did nothing wrong. She genuinely believes she had always been sincere to her sister, that she was the one trying to mend broken ties and soothe tensions. Yet, in reality, her actions only deepened the cracks, poisoned the wounds further, and accelerated the downfall of those around her.
Lubna is now isolated, cut off from almost everyone who once called her family. So too is Rukhsana, her close ally in misdeeds. Their relatives — every aunt, uncle, cousin — are fully aware of the betrayals they committed. They know the ugliness that lies behind the carefully crafted smiles and sob stories. Quietly, without confrontation, they have all chosen to distance themselves. But in a society like Pakistan’s, where cultural norms dictate that you do not openly cast out a sister or close relative from your home, the process is silent, slow, and painful.
Lubna and Rukhsana have perfected a strategy over time: first, they disappear from the social scene, cutting off ties, allowing the dust of their actions to settle. Then, little by little, they re-emerge — reaching out with carefully twisted versions of their side of the story, portraying themselves as misunderstood, wronged, and innocent. Their hope is to find fresh ears, new sympathizers who do not know the full truth or are gullible enough to believe them. But those who do get pulled back into their toxic web inevitably end up as the next victims, ensnared by deceit disguised as sincerity.
Because though Allah’s ultimate justice awaits on the Day of Judgment, He also delivers warnings — and punishments — in this life.
Lubna forgot one simple truth: Crime may be hidden for a while, but it can never be buried forever.