In a quiet village in Sheikhupura, a family’s world has reportedly been torn apart overnight.
Aneeqa Fiaz is only 13.
According to her parents, she was taken from her home in Village Asa Nagri — a child who, just yesterday, should have been worrying about schoolwork, playing with friends, and the ordinary small joys that make childhood feel safe. Instead, her family now says she has been kidnapped, and that what followed was even more horrifying: an alleged forced conversion to Islam and coerced marriage.
For Aneeqa’s parents, the hours are not measured by clocks anymore — they are measured by panic, by unanswered questions, by the ache of imagining a frightened child far from home. Her father, Fiaz Masih, and her mother are reportedly pleading for one thing above all else: their daughter’s safe return. No politics. No arguments. No debates. Just their child back in their arms.
And behind that plea is a fear many minority families quietly live with every day — a fear that their faith can make them vulnerable, and that when something unthinkable happens, the road to justice can feel impossibly steep.
This case is not being viewed as an isolated tragedy. Rights advocates have long warned that kidnappings, forced conversions, and coerced marriages of underage girls remain a grave concern in parts of Pakistan, including Punjab. In many reported cases, families describe being overwhelmed — emotionally, financially, and legally — as they try to fight for their children in a system that can be slow, intimidating, and unforgiving. The result is a chilling sense of insecurity that spreads beyond one household, settling over entire communities like a shadow.
Because when a 13-year-old girl reportedly disappears from her home, it is not only one family that breaks.
It is every mother who begins to walk her daughter to the door and waits until she is safely inside.
Every father who feels powerless in the face of threats he cannot control.
Every sibling who lies awake wondering if their home will ever feel normal again.
A child’s faith — or her family’s faith — should never become a reason for her to be targeted. And no society can call itself safe when children can allegedly be taken, renamed, redefined, and married off while their parents are left begging simply to see them again.
The cries coming from Aneeqa’s home in Sheikhupura are not only cries of grief — they are cries for protection, for accountability, and for the basic promise that every child deserves: to grow up without fear.
As this case draws attention, the demand from advocates and affected families remains painfully clear: find Aneeqa, bring her home safely, and ensure that no other child’s life is stolen in the same way.
Because at the center of this story is not a headline — it is a 13-year-old girl. And a family that will not stop praying, pleading, and hoping until she is safe.