17| Say Something

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Anaabiya's eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat as a cold shiver coursed through her.

This wasn't Uzair.

The realization hit her like a violent wave, crashing over her, drowning her in a suffocating sense of dread.

Her body tensed, her heart pounding so loudly it echoed in her ears. What had she done? How could she have let those words slip so easily, so carelessly?

She had spoken them to him.

To the man who had nearly taken her life just hours ago.

To the man who had stripped away every ounce of security she had ever known.

Humza.

Her stomach twisted painfully, nausea rising in her chest as the weight of her mistake settled over her like a suffocating blanket.

Her hands shook as she forced herself to move, to move back a bit from where he was still seated, to put as much distance as possible between them.

But then—she hesitated.

He wasn't moving.

He wasn't reacting.

His arms had fallen away from her waist instantly, the moment she had taken Uzair's name, yet he hadn't recoiled. He hadn't lashed out. He hadn't even pushed her away.

Anaabiya swallowed, her breath uneven as she looked up at him, dreading what she would see.

But it wasn't anger that met her gaze.

It wasn't rage, nor mockery, nor even amusement.

It was nothing.

A hollow, unreadable expression masked his face, his eyes dark and guarded.

And somehow, that unsettled her more than anything else because now she couldn't even predict his next move.

Humza wasn't the one to stay silent.

He was all sharp words and cutting glares, all unrestrained fury and suffocating dominance. He was the kind of man whose presence could ignite a storm with nothing but a look.

And yet, now, he was silent.

Anaabiya moved toward the opposite edge of the bed unsteadily, needing space, needing air, needing to escape the unbearable tension pressing in on her.

"I— I didn't mean—" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper but she couldn't bring herself to complete the sentence.

Still, he said nothing.

His jaw clenched. The muscles in his arms tensed, his hands curling into fists at his sides—like he was barely holding something back.

Like he was struggling to stay in control.

Anaabiya's pulse quickened, the silence stretching between them thick and suffocating.

She had braced herself, every muscle in her body wound tight, preparing for the storm she was sure was coming.

She had seen him lose control before.

Felt the brutal force of his rage firsthand.

He had nearly killed her.

And sitting there now, in the suffocating silence of her dimly lit room, she had no doubt he was capable of doing it again.

Her breath hitched as she tried to steady herself, but her body betrayed her. Her hands shook, her heart pounded so violently against her ribs that she thought he might hear it.

Say something.

She wanted to scream at him, push him away, demand that he leave and never come near her again.

But the truth?

She was terrified.

She was too afraid to move, too afraid to even breathe too loudly, as if the smallest action would tip him over the edge.

Because he hadn't said a single word.

Not in anger. Not in defense. Not even in cruel mockery.

He just sat there.

Still. Silent.

And that silence was worse than any threat.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves, trying to steady herself, but all she could focus on was him—the way his fists clenched at his sides, the rigid line of his shoulders, the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his skin.

She had expected him to lash out.

To throw something. To yell. To do something.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Humza exhaled—a slow, measured breath.

Without a word, without a single glance in her direction, he got up from her bed and turned away.

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

As if nothing had happened.

As if she hadn't happened.

The door shut behind him with a quiet finality, and Anaabiya was left sitting there, stunned. She remained frozen in place, staring at the empty space where he had been seated just moments ago, her entire body still trembling.

Her breath came in shallow bursts as she stared at the closed door, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

This wasn't right.

This wasn't him.

He never let things go.

Never let her words pass without a cruel retort.

Never left a confrontation without making sure she knew exactly who was in control.

And yet, tonight, he had simply walked away.

And somehow, that terrified her more than if he had stayed.

Because now, she didn't know when it would come.

That barely contained fury, the storm she knew was brewing behind his dark, unreadable eyes—when would it unleash?

When would he snap?

She swallowed hard, the weight of it all pressing down on her chest.

Her body trembled as her shoulders slouched, finally making her sink onto the comfort of her bed, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

Her mind screamed at her to cry, to break, to collapse under the weight of it all.

But she couldn't.

Not yet.

Because for the first time, she wasn't afraid of his anger.

She was afraid of whatever it was that he was holding back.

Anaabiya groaned into her palms, pressing her face against her hands as if that would somehow erase the chaos of last night.

"Ya Allah, please fix this," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

The suffocating weight of fear still pressed down on her chest, making it hard to think, hard to breathe.

She couldn't stop replaying everything in her head—his silence, the way he had looked at her, the way he had just walked away.

It should have brought relief.

It didn't.

If anything, it only made the fear worse.

Because she had no idea what he was thinking.

What he was planning.

For the entire day, she stayed locked in her room, unwilling to risk stepping out. The mere thought of crossing paths with him sent shivers of terror down her spine.

She kept the door locked, only unlocking it when she was sure it was Bibijaan or Maliha outside. Even then, she barely spoke, keeping her responses short, too lost in the storm of her thoughts.

What if he barged in?

What if last night had only been a delay?

What if he was simply waiting for the right moment?

Her hands curled into fists as she sat huddled in the corner of the bed, her back pressed against the headboard. Every creak of the house, every muffled sound from beyond her door made her flinch.

She couldn't trust him.

She couldn't trust anything.

The image of him pressing a gun to her head flashed through her mind, and she shuddered violently.

She had no doubt he was capable of it.

They had established that already.

Her stomach twisted painfully, nausea clawing at her throat.

How had she ended up here?

Trapped in a house where she wasn't sure if she would make it out alive?

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she refused to cry.

Not again.

Not for him.

But no matter how hard she tried, the fear refused to leave her.

And deep down, she knew—this wasn't over.

Not even close.

One morning, Anaabiya had just finished her salah, the quiet moments of prayer offering her a brief respite from the turmoil that had consumed her life in the last few days. The soft glow of the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a serene atmosphere in her room. But as she sat there, gathering her thoughts, the knock at the door shattered the fragile peace she had found.

She stood up, still shaken by everything that had happened, and walked toward the door. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice calm but wary.

"It's me, Maliha," came the familiar voice from the other side, warm and gentle. She opened the door immediately.

Anaabiya's heart skipped a beat as she instinctively braced herself for whatever was coming. There had been no shortage of shocks in her life lately. "What is it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, even though a strange sense of dread lingered in her chest.

"Your relative is here to meet you," Maliha's voice rang out, surprising Anaabiya even more. "I've had him seated in the living room. Should I arrange for a snack or dinner?"

Anaabiya's breath caught in her throat, and she felt a lump form in her chest. A relative? The last thing she wanted right now was another unexpected visitor. She barely had the energy to face the people already in her life, let alone someone new. But her curiosity gnawed at her. Who could it be? Was it someone from her family? Was it Uzair? Her heart began to hammer against her chest a little harder.

No he could not have been so stupid!

She swallowed the lump in her throat, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. "Did he mention his name?" she asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No, he didn't," Maliha replied. "But he's waiting downstairs."

With that, Anaabiya's mind raced. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the dread creeping up inside her.

Please let it not be him. She prayed silently within her heart. She could only imagine who had come to see her—and none of the possibilities calmed her nerves.

She needed to know. She needed to face this. So, without further hesitation, she made her way toward the staircase, each step heavier than the last. The noise of her footsteps seemed to echo in her ears, her nerves running wild.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could see him sitting there, his back turned slightly, as though waiting for something—someone. Her breath hitched in her throat.

It was him.

Uzair.

Her fear was about to come true. As if on cue, Uzair's head snapped back, his gaze meeting hers. For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened, as if silently reassuring her, but the very next moment, he shot to his feet, his body tense, ready for whatever was coming. The softness in his eyes quickly faded, replaced by a fierce determination. It was as if he knew what was at stake, what was about to unfold, and he wasn't going to let it happen without a fight.

Her pulse quickened as her eyes took him in. The same Uzair she had known in her youth—the same man who had once been her closest friend, her confidant. Yet he was no longer the same. Time had sculpted him into someone more powerful, more imposing. His strong, muscular frame seemed to fill the room, and his face, though still familiar, was more mature, more serious than she remembered. His dark hair tousled and a determined glint in his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze still made her heart flutter.

There was something in his expression—something in the way he looked at her—that seemed to pull her closer.

Without a word, he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them faster than she had time to react. Her breath hitched in her throat, and before she could even think to step back, Uzair reached out and embraced her.

The force of the hug left her breathless, but she didn't pull away. She didn't want to. It felt so safe, so right. Her arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding on as if to keep herself grounded in a world that had become so unpredictable. "I thought I'd lost you forever." He said.

For a moment, she let go of everything. She let go of the fear that had been gnawing at her. She let go of the anxiety that had clouded her every thought. She let herself feel the warmth of his presence, the comforting strength of his embrace. At last, she had someone who was afraid to lose her.

She closed her eyes, her face pressed against his chest, trying to forget where she was, trying to forget the dark, dangerous situation she was caught in. The world outside of his arms seemed to blur, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Anaabiya let herself relax, even if just for a moment. She longed to hold on to this feeling of protection, of security, of being valued, that she had craved for so long.

But then, as if on cue, the fragile moment was shattered.

"Hands off my wife, right now!" The voice was a roar, filled with so much fury it was almost palpable.

Anaabiya's heart lurched, and her eyes snapped open. The world came crashing back down around her in an instant.

She pulled away from Uzair in shock, her breath catching in her throat. Standing in the doorway, his face contorted with rage, was Humza. His eyes blazed with fury as he glared at Uzair, his arm outstretched, holding a gun aimed directly at him—just like in her dream. The cold metal glinted under the harsh light, and for a split second, Anaabiya's heart stopped, her world spinning. The terror of her nightmare was now unfolding in real life.

Uzair gripped her hand tightly, his fingers reassuring against her trembling skin. For a brief moment, she noticed Humza's gaze flicker to their joined hands before his eyes darkened further with rage. Without a word, Uzair slowly maneuvered her behind him, positioning himself as her shield. Anaabiya couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude and admiration for the man standing before her—still protecting her, even in the face of certain death.

He had always been there for her, even when his own mother had scolded or threatened her. But this time, the stakes were different. This wasn't just anyone.

This was Humza.

The cruel, sick monster she had come to loathe.

Just curious!

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E D I T E D on 17.2.2025