Her hands clutched her dress as she looked down. I placed my both hands each side of her head on the wall and caged her. She was terrified to be in that position. "Move back. What are you doing" Turning her face to a side she pushed me with both han...
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It was late at night. The soft hum of the city outside barely reached the silence of Arsh's study. A warm amber glow from the desk lamp lit the room, casting long shadows across the leather furniture and bookshelves lining the walls.
Arsh stood near the large window, his eyes fixed on the dark sky. Behind him, Aryan paced restlessly.
"I still think you shouldn't go to Italy alone," Aryan said, breaking the silence. "With Simon still out there, it's dangerous. Let me come with you."
Arsh turned, his expression unreadable. "No. I need you here."
Aryan frowned. "Why?"
"Because someone I trust with my life has to be here—with my family, with her." Arsh's voice was calm, but there was weight behind his words. "If anything happens in my absence, I need to know someone capable is watching everything."
Aryan sighed, clearly not convinced. "Can't you just avoid going this time? Postpone it?"
Arsh shook his head. "No, Aryan. It's very important. You know that. If I don't attend, a lot of things will fall into chaos. There's too much at stake."
Aryan ran a hand through his hair and finally nodded. "Fine. But call me the moment something feels off. I don't care if it's day or night, I'll be on the next flight."
A faint smirk touched Arsh's lips. "I know."
The silence returned, heavier this time—with unspoken fears, trust, and the weight of responsibility pressing in on both men.
"It's just a week," Arsh said softly, almost to himself. "I'll be back soon."
With that, Aryan gave a final nod and left the house, quietly closing the door behind him.
Arsh stood in silence for a moment, then made his way upstairs. The house was still, wrapped in a hush that only the late hours of the night could bring. He pushed open the door to their room and stepped inside.
There she was—fast asleep.
Shafiyya lay curled up on her side, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The moonlight streamed through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow. It kissed her skin, making it gleam like porcelain, highlighting the delicate features of her face. A few strands of her hair had fallen over her cheek, and her lips were parted slightly in sleep.
For a long moment, Arsh just stood there, watching her. The chaos of the day, the weight of what was to come—it all seemed to fade as he looked at her peaceful face.
He slowly walked toward the bed, his gaze never leaving her sleeping form. Stopping beside her, he lowered himself into the armchair near the edge, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked as he leaned forward.
His eyes traced every soft curve of her face, the flutter of her lashes, the calmness she held in her sleep—so different from the fear she showed when awake.
