๐๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ญ๐๐ซ ๐๐ฐ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฒ-๐๐ง๐
"Okay okay, pause it!" I gasped, pressing a pillow to my chest as I doubled over in laughter.
Laiba grinned, remote in hand. "Seriously, he just slid off the balcony like a wet fish, then got up like he meant to do that!"
Rumman api rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk. "Only you two find this kind of stupidity hilarious."
"Oh please," I said between laughs, tossing a popcorn kernel at her, "you laughed too. I saw it."
"I smirked. There's a difference. I'm still classy," she said, lifting her chin with mock elegance.
We burst into laughter again. It felt good, warm, light, like Sunday afternoons were supposed to feel.
The kind of laughter that mends things you didn't know were cracked.
The movie was hilarious. Laiba and Rumman api were in stitches. Even I had tears in my eyes from laughing too hard.
The remote slipped from Laiba's hand as she tried to reenact a clumsy scene. "I'm telling you, if someone filmed you two right now, they'd win an award for chaos!"
I giggled, clutching a throw pillow. "Then let's thank our audience in advance."
We were happy. It felt warm. Easy.
And then... my phone buzzed.
I picked it up with a smile still lingering on my lipsโ
Until I read the message.
The world shattered into glass.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't blink.
It was so freaking vile how could he?!
My fingers locked around the phone like it might bite me. My chest constricted, the air left my lungs.
"Zoya?" Rumman api's voice sounded distant.
I stood abruptly. "IโI need to go upstairs."
I didn't wait. I couldn't.
I walked quickly but stiffly, holding the phone like a cursed object. My hands were trembling. My vision burned.
I opened the bedroom door.
The door clicked behind me with a quiet finality.
He stood by the window. Still. Silent. Like stone. His sleeves were rolled up, the veins on his forearms taut.
His watch lay discarded on the side table.
"Zaigham...?" My voice was barely there. It cracked halfway through.
He turned.
And I staggered back a step upon seeing him.
His eyesโbloodshot red.
Not tired. Not stressed. But something far, far worse.
Anger. Boiling. Brewing. Rage.
His jaw clenched so tight I could see it ripple. His breathing was shallow. Contained. Barely.
"You read it," I whispered.
He didn't answer.
In two long strides, he was standing in front of me.
My phone was already in his hand, he must've synced it again to his WhatsApp Web. He knew. He saw.
He'd seen everything.
Silence fell like a sword between us.
Then...his voice. Low. Raw.
"He said he wanted to feel your body under his hands."
The words made me freeze. Humiliation surged up my spine like acid, but then...
I looked up...and saw Zaigham.
His eyes were glassy with fury. His fingers trembled slightly. Out of restraint.
"He said he imagines you when he's alone. That he'd do things to you I can't even repeat without wanting to rip his throat out."
My mouth parted but no sound came.
His voice dipped darker, quieter. More lethal.
"He said he's watched you sleep."
A single tear slipped down my cheek.
Zaigham reached up and wiped it with the back of his knuckle. Not softly. Not delicately.
Possessively.
"My wife. My woman."His breath fanned over my lips. "And he thinks he can talk about you like that?" His voice broke.
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak...he gripped my waist and pulled me flush against him.
There was a dangerous stillness in the air.
"I would kill for you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You understand that, Zoya?"
My heart stuttered.
"I would drag him out of his hole, and show him exactly what it means to touch something that belongs to me."
My breath caught. "Zaighamโ"
"I've spent my whole life building control," he murmured, forehead resting against mine.
"But he's testing a version of me even I haven't met yet."
I swallowed hard.
His eyes searched mine, voice heavier now.
"He wants to touch you? He wants to imagine you like that?"
His thumb brushed over my lower lip, possessive and aching.
"Let me remind you, Zoya..."His breath was warm against my skin.
"Once I find him, I am going to bury him alive for even thinking like that about my Wife!"
My eyes fluttered closed as his words wrapped around me like fire and ice.
"Say it," he whispered. "Before I forget I'm trying to stay calm."
I knew what he was referring to, my lips moved on their own.
My voice trembled. "I'm yours."
His hand slid to the nape of my neck. "Again." His voice came low, gruff.
"I'm yours, Zaigham. Forever"
His grip tightened slightly.
His eyes were molten. Jaw locked. Chest rising and falling with lethal calm.
And thenโ
He slammed his lips on mine.
A sharp gasp left me, stolen mid-breath.
There was no space, no thought...just his mouth on mine, devouring, claiming, owning.
This wasn't soft. This wasn't gentle.
This was the kind of kiss that didn't ask...it took.
And I had never, never known this side of him.
His fingers sank into my hair under my hijab, the other hand cupping the side of my face, holding me still as his lips moved over mine with a kind of restrained desperation.
Anger. Possession.
I didn't move...shocked, breath caught, heartbeat spiraling out of control.
Until I did.
My hands gripped his shirt, knuckles white, and before I could even register it, I kissed him back.
My hands found his hair as I pulled him closer.
My lips moved with his, almost involuntarily, like my body had caught up before my mind could scream sense.
He growled low in his throat...a sound so guttural, so dark, it sent a jolt down my spine, and then he moved.
His body pressed into mine, guiding me backward. Step by step. Until my back hit the wall with a soft thud and I gasped.
Still kissing me.
He didn't stop.
His thumb stroked my cheek, his mouth still feverish over mine, like he was pouring every ounce of fury and protection and feelings into that one searing, soul-searing kiss.
I could barely breathe. Could barely stand. My knees almost gave up if it wasn't him holding me.
His body caged me in completely, he was everywhere. Overwhelming. Consuming.
I tapped his chest, once, twice...gasping for breath.
And only then... he broke the kiss.
His forehead rested against mine. Breathing hard.
His grey eyes, now dark with intensity.
But his hands didn't leave me.
I looked in his eyes.
My lips were tingling. My breath shaky. My heart wrecked.
"Don't ever think," he rasped, voice low and gravelled against my skin, "that I won't burn the world for you, Zoya."
My eyes fluttered open, his face was so close, it was all I could see.
My cheeks blazed red. I tried to find words, any words, but nothing came.
He straightened slowly, his gaze unreadable now...back to the composed storm he always was.
Without another word, he turned... and stormed out of the room.
I stood there. Back still against the wall. Fingers still trembling.
Lips still parted.
What... just happened?
I stood there.
Frozen.
Still leaning against the wall like my bones had forgotten how to hold me up without it. My heart hadn't slowed...no, it was still thrashing inside my chest like it had tasted something it couldn't forget.
He kissed me.
Not just kissed me.
He claimed me.
And oh my...he was so...Hot.
Like dangerously, unreasonably hot.
That angry fire in his eyes... the way his jaw had clenched right before he kissed me... the way his breath had warmed my lips, his hands had held my face like I'd break if he didn'tโ
I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned softly.
Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?
My face was on fire. My Hijab now messed up. Cheeks burning. My fingers were still tingling where they'd clutched his shirt. I could feel the ghost of his touch all over my mouth.
And that line...
"Don't ever think that I won't burn the world for you, Zoya."
What on earth was I supposed to do with a line like that?!
Suddenly, I forgot about that disgusting text, because of my husband.
Good.
What was I supposed to do with a husband who looked at me like that... like he wanted to break someone's bones for just daring to speak my name...
Like I was hisโ
His.
No questions. No disclaimers.
Just... his.
I pressed a hand over my heart.
Was it normal for a single kiss to wreck someone's entire nervous system like this?
I couldn't look at him after this. I wouldn't survive. I'd combust. I'd trip over my own heartbeat and probably melt into the floor.
I bit my lip, blushing harder.
This was so bad.
This was so good.
That calm, dangerous intensity. That control. That fury beneath the surface...and now, suddenly, the heat.
I was in trouble.
So much trouble.
And the worst part?
I didn't want to run from it.
I wanted to do it all over again.
Control yourself Zoya!
I stood near the bookshelf in our room, absently adjusting a misplaced frame when I heard the door click shut behind me. My eyes flicked to the mirrorโZaigham. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes... something was different tonight.
"Zoya," he said, voice low. Measured.
I turned, startled. "Yes..."
"I need you to hear me," he interrupted gently, walking toward me. "And I need you not to panic."
My breath hitched. "What is it, Zaigham? Why are youโ"
"Relax and listen to me." He said cupping my face and looked me in the eyes.
"It's someone from our family."
Everything stopped.
My heart dropped until my mind registered what he just said.
My fingers went cold. "No," I whispered, shaking my head, already backing a step away. "No. You must be mistaken. It can't be. It can'tโ"
"I wish it was a mistake." His tone didn't change. "But I confirmed it tonight."
I blinked. "What do you mean confirmed? How? How can you possiblyโ"
"I planted a bait link," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "Encrypted. Untraceable unless you were already in our secure network. Only four people had access. The moment it was accessed, I was alerted."
He stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, voice like ice. "The location matched our internal server. That narrows it to family. But the specific user ID? It was masked under a fake admin key, except that fake key was only ever used once before."
"When?" I breathed, barely able to speak.
"The dayyou got that anonymous note with that so-called rose."
My mouth went dry.
His jaw ticked. "He's been watching us from the beginning."
I gripped the edge of the dresser. "You mean... the family I've grown up around. The ones who played with me in the garden. Ate at the same table. One of them..." My voice cracked, "...has been saying these vile things to me?"
"I don't know which one yet," he said, low. "But I will. In exactly two days. Tuesday night."
"Howโhow can you be so sure?"
Zaigham stepped forward, and for the first time in my life, I saw rage in his eyes. Controlled, terrifying rage.
"Because I laid a trap. One they cannot resist. They'll bite. And when they doโ" his voice darkened, "I won't just find him. I'll end him."
I stared at him, trembling. "Zaigham..."
He looked at me then, as a husband, as a man barely holding his fury by the throat.
"He looked at you. Talked about you like that. Do you have any idea what it took for me not to burn everything down?"
I couldn't speak.
"I don't care who he is. Cousin. Brother." He stepped closer, cupping my jaw. "He looked at my wife. Scared my woman. He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you."
My eyes blurred. "I don't know what to sayโ"
"You don't have to," he said. "Just don't stop looking at me like that. Don't stop trusting me. I will protect what's mine. At any cost."
And then, he pulled me into his arms. Not with tenderness.
But with fire.
I closed my eyes with this shock and cried in his embrace.
The dinner table had never felt this heavy.
Laughter floated. Forks clinked. Tayii Jaan was talking about some rishta horror story she'd heard from her cousin. Laiba was giggling at something Rayyan had whispered.
But all I could hear was a loud, uncomfortable thudding in my ears.
I sat between Laiba and Inaya, my fingers numb around the spoon I wasn't using. My plate was barely touched.
Zaigham did not join for dinner.
I didn't look up much.
Because every time I did... I saw them differently.
Not as cousins. Not as siblings.
But as suspects.
Someone hereโat this very tableโwas the one sending me those texts.
Watching me. Tracking me. Violating me. Harassing me.
I swallowed tightly.
How was I supposed to sit here and smile?
I shifted in my seat as Aayan bhai cracked a joke and Zaviyaar snorted into his drink.
I used to love this chaos.
Now it felt like noise...smoke...a cover.
I looked at Zaarib bhai when he passed the raita to Ruman api.
His expression was unreadable, calm as always.
Like it always was. I used to admire that.
The steadiness. The silent protectiveness.
I looked at Zaviyaar and Zayyan bhai, I looked at Rayyan bhai all of them were busy in their worlds.
My throat tightened.
I looked away.
My stomach twisted.
Don't do this, Zoya.
Don't suspect the people who grew up around you. Don't start seeing shadows where there were once only smiles.
But how could I not?
Zaigham's voice kept ringing in my head like a cursed chant.
"It's someone from our family."
That had shaken something so deep inside me I didn't even know it existed. My hands had trembled. My heart had rebelled.
Because if that was true...
Then everything I believed in, everything I trustedโwas a lie.
The very people who'd fought over board games, who'd cheered on school grades and held my hands through heartbreakโ
Someone among them was sending me vile words.
Was watching me behind closed doors.
Was obsessed with me.
And no one here looked guilty. No one looked out of place.
They all looked... the same.
Normal.
Loving.
But how could love hide filth so well?
A cold chill moved down my spine as I looked around again, unable to eat.
I could feel eyes.
I could feel the game.
But no one blinked.
No one gave anything away.
And all I could do...
Was sit in this sea of smiles with a heart that no longer knew who it was allowed to trust.
Not even family.
My head turned slightly to the side.
Zaigham.
Leaning silently against the wall near the dining entrance, arms crossed, face unreadableโbut those eyes...
Fixed on me.
Burning with something far deeper than concern.
It wasn't the first time he'd been quiet in a family gathering.
But this was different.
He wasn't just watching.
He was tracking.
Studying.
Every expression. Every tone. Every movement around this table.
Like a predator in disguiseโdeciding who bled guilt.
For a second, our eyes locked.
And in that second, the room blurred. The table, the laughter, the people, everything.
It was just his eyes and the silent question he didn't speak out loud: "Who among them dares?"
A shiver ran through me.
He gave me the smallest nod, as if to say "I see your fear. I'm already ten steps ahead of it."
And just like that, he looked away, disappearing into the hall like a shadow that never came with noise.
I exhaled a shaky breath.
Because maybe I didn't trust this family anymore.
But I trusted him.
And all I could do...
Was sit in this sea of smiles with a heart that no longer knew who it was allowed to love freelyโ
Except one man.
One man who'd now made it his war.
I entered our room in silence. My chest felt heavy, every footstep echoing with the weight of dread. My eyes scanned the hallway before I shut the door behind me.
He was already standing by the tall window, arms folded, half-turned toward me, like he had been waiting.
His voice came low, but it slipped right under my skin.
"You barely touched your food, Zoya."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat was clogged with everything I didn't want to feel.
"What's wrong?"
His gaze scanned my face, then narrowed โ too observant, too precise.
"Tell me."
I looked away, blinking too fast.
"How am I supposed to sit at that table and smile, Zaigham?"
My voice broke before I could stop it.
"How am I supposed to breathe normally when the same people I called my brothers, my family, might beโ"
I stopped. My lips trembled.
"They laughed tonight. Teased me. Argued. And all I could hear was that message."
My chest heaved.
"I grew up with them. I played hide and seek in those corridors."
My hands trembled slightly as I whispered,
"And now... I'm afraid of their smiles."
There was a pause. Long. Thick with the kind of silence that suffocates.
Then, slowly, he walked over to me. As if he was anchoring me back to reality.
When he stopped in front of me, his voice dropped just enough to still my thoughts.
"You're not crazy for feeling that way."
His eyes locked on mine. Unblinking.
"But you're not alone in this, either."
I swallowed hard. My vision blurred again.
He stepped even closer, and something in his expression changed. Sharpened. Hardened.
"I've been holding myself back, Zoya."
His tone shifted โ it darkened.
"Every hour. Every time I see you shaken."
His jaw clenched.
"Because while you cry over family, all I want to do is hunt."
I inhaled sharply.
"Hunt the one who looked at you like that. Who dared to think they could threaten what's mine and walk away un-touched."
My heart thudded loud.
"Whoever he is... he doesn't understand what he's done."
He stepped forward again.
"This isn't about family. This is about the mistake of harassing you and assuming I'd forgive it."
I froze, stunned by the calm violence beneath his words.
"I will find him."
His voice dipped to a near whisper.
"Not because I need closure. But because he needs consequences."
That was it.
The ache in my chest cracked open as the tears broke through. I didn't want to cry, not again, but I couldn't stop it this time.
I burried my face in my hands as I cried harder.
"I'm justโ I'm so tired," I choked.
"It feels like everything I believed in is unraveling. Like I never really knew the people around me."
And then he moved.
In a heartbeat, his arms wrapped around me, and I collapsed into his chest like a wave crashing against shore.
"Hey... hey, I've got you."
His hand slid to the back of my head, pulling me closer as I buried my face in his chest, sobbing softly.
"Zoya," he murmured.
"That's on me now."
I felt his thumb brush the edge of my jaw as he whispered again.
"You just stay close. That's all I need from you."
"I will be your safe place zoya, I will protect you from every storm."
And in that moment, his words became the only solid ground beneath my feet.
I woke up to the soft rustling of bedsheets and the faintest scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
For a second, I forgot everything.
The fear. The messages. The heaviness in my chest.
And then I felt it, the weight of his arm still wrapped securely around my waist, as if even in sleep, he wouldn't let me go.
I turned my head slightly.
He was lying on his side, one arm beneath the pillow, the other resting over me. His face was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted, lashes casting long shadows on his cheek. He looked younger like this.
Calmer.
Safe.
I didn't move. Didn't dare to.
Because this, this felt like the rarest thing in the world.
I let my eyes flutter shut again.
Just five more minutes.
But then I felt his arm tighten around me, just slightly, and his voice, groggy, deeper than usual...brushed against my ear.
"You're awake."
A pause. My skin tingled.
"I can feel your heartbeat."
I didn't answer, just smiled faintly. But he didn't let that silence last.
"Is it because of me?"
I could hear the smirk in his voice now. And it was ridiculous how quickly my cheeks warmed.
"No."
"Zoya."
"Okay... maybe."
And that was enough to make him shift.
Before I could react, he had moved...gently rolling me over to face him. The sunlight pouring in from the window spilled across his features now, and I had to blink to adjust.
He looked at me with that unreadable expression of his. That quiet intensity. But softer now.
"You didn't sleep well," he said, brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek.
"I kept waking up... just to check if you were still holding me."
His eyes darkened slightly, his thumb trailing over the curve of my jaw.
"I'll always be holding you."
Something in my chest fluttered.
"You don't have to say things like that, you know."
"I don't say anything I don't mean."
The silence between us wasn't awkward, it was heavy with something unsaid. Something hovering between the ache of last night and the comfort of now.
He leaned in slightly, his forehead brushing mine.
"You're mine to protect, Zoya. No matter what comes next."
I blinked up at him, lost in that voice, in those eyes, in him.
"You're not alone anymore."
And before I could respond, his lips brushed my forehead, slow and lingering, as if sealing a promise between us.
Like he was trying to say a thousand things without uttering a single word.
And for a moment, I let go of the fear again.
Because in his arms, the world always seemed just a little quieter.
Just a little safer.
By the time we reached Khan Enterprises, the softness of the morning had been neatly replaced by his usual armor....sharp suit, colder eyes, a man who looked fearless.
Inside his cabin, I set my bag down in the corner by my desk. The faint scent of coffee drifted from the cup already placed there and a blueberry muffin cake.
"You had this brought for me?" I asked, surprised.
Zaigham didn't look up from the file he was signing. "You skipped breakfast."
I frowned. "You noticed?"
That made him glance up, one brow arched. "Zoya, I notice everything."
I rolled my eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. He returned to his work, flipping a page with quiet precision.
I began sorting through the morning emails when his voice cut through the silence.
"Don't go anywhere alone today."
The pen in my hand froze. "Why?"
He didn't answer immediately. Just signed another page, placed the pen down, and finally looked at me.
"I don't like certain movements I've been seeing in the building."
"Movements?" I echoed, my voice a little too high.
His gaze didn't waver. "I'm not in the habit of explaining my precautions. You'll follow them."
Something about the way he said it....calm but laced with steel...made it impossible to argue.
I tried to return to my work, but he was still watching me.
"What?" I asked, flustered.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "You were calmer this morning."
"That's... bad?"
His lips curved, slow and deliberate. "It's good."
I bent over my laptop, pretending to type, but my fingers weren't moving. His presence was too close, too precise, like a shadow that didn't belong to me yet never left my side.
When he finally spoke again, it wasn't casual.
"Ten minutes."
I blinked. "For what?"
"Meeting room three."
I must've looked confused, because he added, "You'll sit in. And listen."
"Listen to what?"
"To how people speak when they think I'm not paying attention."
Before I could respond, he stood, the scrape of his chair against the floor far louder than it should've been, and headed for the door.
I followed him in, notebook in hand. The glass walls reflected the morning light, making the space feel both open and suffocating at once.
Zaigham walked to the head of the table without hesitation, taking the seat like it was built for him.
"Updates," he said, and it wasn't a request.
One by one, the department heads spoke, numbers, deadlines, projected targets. I quickly realized what he'd meant earlier in his office: he wasn't just listening to the reports. He was studying them. Every pause, every careful choice of words, every shift in posture.
It wasn't loud in the room, but the air felt heavy. People sat straighter when his eyes passed over them, as if they were being measured against a standard no one could see.
When someone brought up "staff reassignments," his expression didn't change, but there was something in the way his fingers tapped once against the table, deliberate, controlled.
I stayed quiet, jotting down notes, but I was hyper-aware of the tension he seemed to carry without speaking.
The meeting ended quickly. Chairs scraped, papers shuffled, voices lowered. Everyone left fast...too fast โ leaving the two of us behind.
"Stay," he said without looking at me.
I sank back into the chair, heart beating a little too loud in the empty room.
"You didn't see it," he said after a pause.
"See what?"
"Who listens to respond... and who listens to remember."
I frowned. "Why does that matter?"
"It matters," his gaze locked on mine, "because the second kind is always more dangerous."
Something in his tone made the room feel colder.
"I'm not asking you to be afraid," he added, voice low, "I'm telling you to be ready."
By the time the last meeting wrapped up, I was expecting him to vanish into another pile of work and leave me to my desk and coffee.
That was his pattern โ efficient, predictable, untouchable.
But instead, as we stepped out of the meeting room, he said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, "Come. We're going out for lunch."
I actually stopped walking. "We are?"
He didn't slow his pace, just glanced over his shoulder at me. "Unless you've made other plans?"
Of course I hadn't. And even if I had, there was something in his tone that made declining feel impossible.
In the elevator, I tried not to stare at his reflection in the mirrored walls. He was scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other in his pocket, as if this was just another part of his schedule.
But for me... it wasn't.
This wasn't him. Zaigham Khan didn't "go out for lunch." He didn't do casual. He didn't rearrange his day for anyone.
And yet, here we were.
And the strangest part was I knew exactly why.
The thought made my chest tighten.
Danger was supposed to tear people apart.
But in this twisted, upside-down way... it had pulled us together.
We reached the car, and the driver opened the door. Zaigham gestured for me to get in first, an unspoken command rather than a courtesy.
I slid in, still trying to make sense of this softer, stranger version of him.
When he joined me, the faint brush of his sleeve against mine made me far too aware of the space between us.
Or the lack of it.
I kept my eyes on the city outside the window, but inside my head, the truth was impossible to ignore.
Maybe I should've been more afraid.
But sitting here beside him, I felt the exact opposite.
The car slowed in front of a place minimalist glass front, discreet signage, the kind of place where you don't just "drop by."
Of course, Zaigham didn't check the menu outside. He walked in like he owned the building, the street, maybe even the air.
The host greeted him by name and immediately led us to a corner table tucked away from the main dining floor. It wasn't just private, it was positioned so he could see the entire room without anyone at his back.
Of course.
He waited for me to sit first. I almost wanted to point out that chivalry wasn't exactly his style, but then again... maybe it wasn't chivalry. Maybe it was control. With him, I could never tell the difference.
The moment we sat down, I noticed it, his eyes scanning the room, just once, quick, efficient, like a mental checklist. The couple by the window. The man at the counter. The waiter lingering near the kitchen door. Then, satisfied, he looked at me.
"Order whatever you want," he said.
"Anything?" I teased, half expecting him to give me a limit.
"Anything," he repeated, the corner of his mouth lifting, "as long as you eat it."
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway, because this was the kind of banter I wasn't used to with him.
With Zaigham, words were usually precise, businesslike, stripped of fluff.
Now, there was something else in the air, not soft, not exactly warm, but... closer.
We ordered. And while we waited, he leaned back, hands loosely clasped, but I could feel that subtle weight in his gaze, the way he looked at me like he was still studying something.
"You're quieter than usual," he said finally.
I arched a brow. "And you're... not."
That earned me a ghost of a smile. "Maybe I'm learning."
I wanted to laugh, but the truth stuck in my throat. If someone had told me two weeks ago that I'd be here, across from him, having lunch outside the office, I'd have thought they'd lost their mind.
And yet here we were. Because someone, somewhere, decided to try and scare me.
And instead... they'd pushed him closer.
The food arrived, but I barely tasted it. Half my attention was on the conversation, half on the way he seemed completely in control of every detail, the room, the timing.
When we were almost done, I thought, just for a second, that maybe this was the calmest I'd felt in days.
And then my phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
I pulled it from my bag without thinking, but the second I saw the notification, my pulse stopped.
Unknown number.
A picture.
I opened itโand the world around me tilted.
Every sound in the restaurant seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding in my ears. My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached, but I couldn't look away from the screen.
A cold rush swept through me, from my spine to my fingertips. My stomach turned.
The edges of my vision blurred, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. I set the phone face down on the table, my hand trembling despite every effort to still it.
Zaigham's voice cut through the fog in my head. "Zoya?"
I looked up, but the words wouldn't come.
To be Continued....
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