4| I Make Promises

I   M A K E   P R O M I S E S

W O R D C O U N T: 2713

Anaabiya lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as restlessness gnawed at her. She turned onto one side, then the other, but sleep remained a distant stranger. Her mind was a battlefield, thoughts clashing violently, leaving her exhausted yet wide awake.

A part of her ached to confide in Nabiha—her only sister, her only family. But she knew it was pointless. The bond between them was fragile, stretched thin by years of indifference. While Anaabiya wrestled with her torment, Nabiha slept peacefully in the single bed beside hers, oblivious to the storm raging in her sister's heart.

But Anaabiya had made up her mind. She was not going to the Subway tomorrow. No matter how much his message had unsettled her, she refused to be a pawn in his twisted game. She wouldn't let him believe he had power over her. Syed Humza Junaid could threaten, intimidate, even rage—but she would not bend. She was not his puppet, not someone he could summon at his convenience.

Anaabiya couldn't help but wonder—why her?

She had seen the way women looked at him that night—women that were stunning, elegant, the kind who could grace the covers of magazines. They had practically worshipped him, their eyes filled with longing, their smiles designed to captivate.

And yet, he had agreed to marry her.

A man like Humza had no shortage of options. He could have had anyone he wanted. So why would he settle for someone like her? What could he possibly gain from marrying her?

He definitely had an ulterior motive. Hatred for him bloomed within her, sharp and unrelenting. Yet, beneath the surface, fear coiled like a serpent, whispering that she was being reckless. She was daring a man who did not take disobedience lightly, a man who could crush her with a mere flick of his hand. But even knowing this, she refused to yield.

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, soaking into the pillow. All her dreams were unraveling. The dream of finding a man who would cherish her, a love that would heal the wounds of her past. She had spent years clinging to that hope, but now, reality was forcing her to let go. There was no knight in shining armour. There never was.

When sleep finally came, it was fleeting. By the time exhaustion finally won, the call for Fajr had already filled the air. She forced herself to rise, her body heavy with fatigue, and offered her salah with a weary heart. An hour of restless sleep followed before she had to get ready for school, exhaustion pressing down on her like an iron weight.

She deliberately stayed late at work, stretching every task longer than necessary, using it as a shield to avoid him. Every time her phone buzzed, a shiver ran down her spine, dreading the moment his name would appear on the screen. Every time the staff room door creaked, her breath hitched, fearing he would walk in—calm, lethal, and unforgiving.

Through it all, Ahad remained by her side, steadfast and unwavering. He waited with her long past the working hours, never once letting her face the uncertainty alone.

Today, it wasn't much. But it was enough.

As the clock struck 6 PM, Anaabiya finally exhaled a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Nothing she had feared had come to pass. No ominous calls. No sudden, terrifying appearance of Humza. No storm crashing through her carefully built defences.

For the first time that day, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she had won this battle.

"I think we can go back now," she said, glancing at Ahad.

"Yes, we should. Honestly, I think he's all talk and no action. Good that you bruised his ego—he deserved it," Ahad replied, stuffing the last of his books into his bag as he helped her pack up.

By the time they stepped out, the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. A gentle evening breeze whispered against Anaabiya's skin, but even as she walked, fully alert, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No shadows lurking in the corners. No heavy footsteps trailing behind.

Everything seemed normal.

Ahad escorted her to the edge of her backyard before parting ways, disappearing down the street toward his own home. It was only a few steps to the safety of her house.

But the moment she reached the door, a sharp, instinctive dread curled in her stomach.

The door was ajar.

A shiver ran down her spine. Her aunt would never leave it like that. She was certain of it.

Heart pounding, she hesitated before peeking through the gap. "Is anyone there? Nabiha?" she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

But there was no response. Only silence.

The house stood eerily still—no voices, no movement, no sign of life.

Something was wrong.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs as she spun around, desperate to call out to Ahad before he got too far. But the words never left her lips.

Cold steel pressed against the side of her head, freezing the breath in her lungs.

A pistol.

"Don't even think about it."

The voice was deep, laced with an eerie calmness that sent shivers down her spine. She barely dared to move as her wide, terrified eyes locked onto the man before her. He was massive—broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his black shirt, a towering, heavily built figure that exuded raw intimidation. His face was carved with hard lines, a faint stubble shadowing his strong jaw, and his dark eyes held nothing but lethal intent.

This was not Humza.

But it didn't matter. Because whoever he was—he was here for her.

The man in front of her extended a phone, his expression cold and unreadable. "Talk." The single word was an order, devoid of emotion, sharp as a blade.

Anaabiya felt a bead of sweat trickle down the nape of her neck. The weight of the pistol against her temple was suffocating, his grip unwavering. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry.

She didn't move. Couldn't move.

His dark eyes bore into hers, and when she still didn't react, he gave a slight, impatient nod toward the phone, as if to say, take it. Speak.

With trembling fingers, she reached for the device, pressing it against her ear as though it burned to the touch. "H-hello?" she stammered.

A voice, smooth yet laced with ice, responded almost immediately.

"Do you have any idea how much of my time you've wasted?"

For someone supposedly furious, he sounded unnervingly calm.

Anaabiya's pulse thundered in her ears. She forced herself to respond, but her voice wavered pitifully. "I—I didn't w-want to meet you."

Coward.

The thought screamed in her head, but with a gun to her skull, fear was the only rational response.

There was a pause, just long enough for dread to coil tighter around her chest.

"Doesn't matter," he said flatly. "I'm giving you one last chance to fix this. Quietly accompany my friend there to the Subway. Don't make this any more difficult."

Then, as if his next words were nothing more than an afterthought, he added, "Or... the people in your now-empty home could be gone forever."

The line went dead. He didn't wait for her response. He didn't wait for her to beg.

Anaabiya stood frozen, the phone still pressed against her ear, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.

Her house was empty.

Which meant...

Nabiha.

Her breath hitched. There was no way on earth she would let anything happen to her sister. Their parents had entrusted Nabiha to her, and she could not fail.

No matter what it took.

"After you." The man beside her gestured forward, his pistol never wavering.

Anaabiya forced her legs to move, her heart hammering violently in her chest. It was only now that she noticed the black van parked a few meters away from her backyard—waiting, like a predator ready to devour its prey.

A lump lodged in her throat. Fear clung to her skin like a second layer, suffocating and inescapable. But as terrified as she was for herself, the thought of losing Nabiha paralysed her even more.

When they reached the vehicle, the man unlocked it and pulled the door open. Without resistance, Anaabiya stepped inside, her body moving on its own accord—like an obedient child too afraid to rebel. Silent tears streamed down her face, but the man before her remained unaffected, his expression as impassive as stone.

He walked around to the driver's side, settling in beside her. The gun was no longer in his hand, but she wasn't foolish enough to think it was far from his reach.

The drive was swift, the city lights blurring past as Anaabiya sat stiffly in the seat, her mind spiralling into darkness.

This was it.

The moment she had dreaded was finally here. Syed Humza Junaid was going to blackmail her into marriage. He was going to force her into a life she wanted no part of.

By the time they pulled up in front of the Subway, night had fully settled over the city. A sense of relief flickered within her as she stepped out—at least it was a public place. If he planned on killing her, at least there would be witnesses.

But as she walked through the glass doors, that sliver of relief was crushed under the weight of reality.

The entire place was empty.

Her stomach twisted. Of course. He had likely dismissed everyone the moment he arrived, ensuring there would be no interruptions.

A shudder ran through her as she felt the looming presence of the man behind her, though this time, he kept his gun holstered. As if he knew—knew—she was already terrified enough to obey without resistance.

Swallowing hard, Anaabiya's gaze drifted across the dimly lit dining space.

And there, seated at the very centre of the deserted restaurant, was Humza.

Effortlessly commanding, his presence dominated the room. Dressed in a fitted brown leather jacket over a black T-shirt and jeans, he exuded a lethal, untamed charisma. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast sharp shadows across his defined features, accentuating the sheer arrogance and danger in his expression.

He looked every bit the devil she had imagined.

And yet, infuriatingly, he was devastatingly handsome.

Anaabiya swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to disappear. His gaze was piercing—sharp, unrelenting, predatory. It always made her feel as if he could see straight through her, stripping away every layer of pretence until there was nowhere left to hide.

But she couldn't afford to be intimidated. Not now.

Summoning every ounce of courage, she met his gaze. "Where is my sister?" Her voice was firm, though fear curled around its edges.

For a moment, Humza simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, with a calmness that sent a shiver down her spine, he said, "She's fine."

A pause. A cruel smirk.

"For now."

Anaabiya's breath hitched. "What do you mean?" Panic surged through her veins.

Humza leaned back in his chair, exuding an air of effortless dominance. "Whether she stays fine or not depends entirely on you."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. "What do you want?" she asked, desperation creeping into her tone.

His next words were so casual, so indifferent, that they almost didn't register.

"Marry me."

Anaabiya blinked. What?

Of all the things she had expected, this had never even crossed her mind.

"You're joking, right?" she said, almost laughing at the absurdity of it.

Humza arched a brow. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

No. He didn't. And that terrified her even more.

She opened her mouth, struggling to find the words—how could she possibly explain that she despised him? That the very thought of being tied to him made her stomach churn?

As if sensing her resistance, Humza leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his dark eyes never leaving hers. "Relax. It's just for a year."

Anaabiya stared at him, frozen.

"One year," he repeated. "You'll be compensated—handsomely. Enough to secure a comfortable life for yourself and your sister, enough for you to be able to escape the tyranny of your aunt." He had done a proper research, she knew. "All I need is for you to sign a contract, stay married to me for a year, and then we'll go our separate ways." He further added.

She could barely comprehend what he was saying. A contract? A transactional marriage?

Humza smirked at her stunned silence. "Don't worry—you can continue dating your little boyfriend. I don't care. Just play the role when required, attend a few parties, and stay out of my way. Live your life however you want. All I need is your name on that marriage certificate for one year."

Anaabiya's mind reeled. Was this real? Was he truly asking this of her?

Her lips parted before she could stop herself. "Why me?"

Humza exhaled, an almost amused glint flashing in his eyes. "That's a million-dollar question. You'll have to ask my mother."

She narrowed her eyes. "So, you're doing this to please your mother?"

At that, his expression darkened. The slight amusement vanished, replaced by something sharper—something colder.

"That's none of your business."

Anaabiya's heart raced, but something inside her ignited—a newfound strength she hadn't known she possessed. "Marriage is no joke!" she said, her voice gaining force. "There's no one-year contract! You think I need your money? You're wrong!" Her words were sharp, like a blade cutting through the suffocating tension in the room. "I don't need it. You can keep it to yourself."

For a moment, Humza stood frozen, studying her with an unreadable expression. Then, to her shock, he smirked—that infuriating, arrogant smirk that only served to make her blood boil.

His smirk was the epitome of insufferable arrogance—a slow, knowing curl of his lips that reeked of dominance and self-assurance.

There was a taunting edge to it, as if he found amusement in watching others squirm under his gaze. It held no warmth, only cold amusement, like a predator toying with its prey before going for the kill.

His smirk wasn't just cocky—it was infuriatingly confident, a silent challenge that dared anyone to defy him. And worst of all? He knew exactly what he was doing.

"I thought I'd do this the easy way," he muttered, rising from his chair.

Her chest tightened as he took a step closer—then another. The space between them closed rapidly, and before she could react, he was almost within arm's reach, towering over her. He was a full foot taller, his imposing figure casting a shadow that loomed over her like an unrelenting storm.

But Anaabiya stood her ground, refusing to let her knees tremble. She couldn't show weakness. Not now.

She met his gaze head-on, her chin lifted, her voice unwavering despite the chaos churning inside her.

"It wasn't a question." His tone was cold, calculating, but laced with something far darker. "I was merely being kind enough to offer you something in return. If you don't want my money, that's fine. But I do hope you care about your sister's safety."

The air thickened. Mock amusement dripped from his words, and for a moment, Anaabiya felt like she had been punched in the gut.

"I hope for her sake," he added, his words deliberate, cutting through her resolve.

It was like a slap in the face. He had used her only weakness—her sister—as a weapon against her. Every ounce of courage she'd gathered in the past few minutes seemed to slip away, replaced by a gut-wrenching fear.

Her breath caught. "You... you're threatening me."

Humza's smirk deepened, but his eyes were cold, unforgiving. "I don't make threats. I make promises."

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E D I T E D on 8.02.2025