It was midnight when the devastating call interrupted Zohra's sleep. Her sister, 27 year old Zeenat Zafar was involved in a fatal car accident and was fighting for her life. Time was of the essence. Reunited with her estranged sister albeit for a brief moment, Zeenat Zafar died leaving behind 3 children along with a trail of unanswered questions. Where was she going late at night with her bags packed? Havoc ensued when Zayn-ul-Abidin, Zeenat's husband, took his children leaving Zohra and her family in despair. There was only one thing left for Zoha to do to bring her family together; to step into her sister's shadow and be a mother to her children and marry her sister's husband; whatever the cost. A story about betrayal, passion, family duties and jealousy. Indulge in the world of Zohra Zafar who existed in her sister's shadow in her life and death. *************** In My Sister's Shadow Intro Copyright © 2020 by S. N. Mughal All Rights Reserved All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. _______________________________________________ Day One. It was 12. 37 a. m when we got the phone call. In the pit of my stomach I knew something was wrong. There was something eerie about late night calls that snatched sleep from my eyes like a thief and jolted me up in my bed in dread. I held my breath waiting for a voice. A murmur. A voice. To my devastation I heard mum's wails. That's when I knew something was terribly wrong. It was the moment my life changed forever. Quickly, I pulled my beige shawl over my head and rushed to my parent's bedroom. The wailing grew louder increasing my heart rate. Was it grandad or grandma in Pakistan? Who could it be? When I entered their bedroom, I found mum's figure perched on the end of the bed with her head in her hands. Dad pressed the corded phone against his ear dressed in a string vest. The corner lamp washed the figures in a dim and gloomy light and silhouetted their hunched crestfallen figures. "What happened? " I pressed dad. Mum's soul rendering sobs filled the room. *** Without a second to think, I was in the back of my dad's Toyota Avensis speeding through the rain. The wipers swished hopelessly and I couldn't see past the mist. It was late December, Christmas decorations and lights coiled the lampposts in the streets of Birmingham. This year, there would be no reason to enjoy the holidays; devastation would grip our home. I leaned forward and tugged mum for answers, but she bowed her head in her hands and all she said was, "your sister. Zeenat. My Zeenat! " Zeenat was younger sist...