I smile as the little girl in front of me grins excitedly, telling me about her week.
"That's nice to hear, Irene. I'm glad you enjoyed your day."
She gives me a shy nod.
This is eighteen-year-old IreneâMax's sister. Whenever she gets a day off from school, she tags along with her brother.
I know eighteen isn't a child, but Irene is. Both mentally and physically.
She has no parents and suffers from a deadly disease that has stunted her growth. Max has told me countless times how much she loves talking to me, so whenever she visits, I set my work aside. If I can make her happy, even for a little while, I will.
A groan leaves her lips as my office phone rings, interrupting her story.
"Don't take the call! I'm talking to you!" She pouts, shaking her head.
Chuckling at her cuteness, I comply. But then, the phone rings again.
"Let me take this one?" I ask.
She pouts again but nods. For some reason, I have a soft spot for her. Maybe it's pity, knowing she won't be in this world six months from now. Or maybe it's because she makes me feel like a big brother.
I answer the call. "Yes?"
There's heavy breathing on the other end. No words. Just shaky breaths.
My brows furrow. "Hello?"
Then, finally, a voiceâfrail and stuttering.
"Sir... c-can you please come to our floor? Ms. Ziah Omen... she's not feeling well."
I barely catch half of what she says, but when Ziah's name reaches my ears, my whole body reacts.
"What happened?"
The woman hisses, as if in distress, but doesn't answer.
I don't wait. I shoot up from my seat, straightening my coat.
The sudden movement startles Irene. "Please stay here or go to your brother, okay? I'll be back soon."
Ignoring her questions and the stares of my employees, I rush out.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I wait for the elevator. The way that woman's voice trembledâsomething is wrong.
I shouldn't have left Ziah alone. Knowing we're engaged, that creep wouldn't stay quiet. I should've thought ahead.
Cursing myself, I storm onto her floor. A crowd surrounds her desk, whispering and gasping.
"Sir?" A woman gasps when she sees me, quickly pushing people aside to make way.
And then I see it.
A rat.
Or what's left of it.
Blood pools around it, tiny severed parts scattered across the floor. The stench hits me hard, making my stomach churn.
"Where is Ziah?"
The older woman nearest to me trembles, lifting a shaky hand to point under the desk.
My head snaps in that direction.
And my heart shatters.
Ziah is curled up beneath the desk, hands clamped over her ears, eyes squeezed shut.
Her friends kneel beside her, their eyes red-rimmed from crying. They call her name softly, but she only shakes her head, mumbling incoherent words.
Ziahâwho grabs three pillows to hide her face when we watch horror movies.
Ziahâwho faints at the sight of a small cut.
Ziahâwho isn't allowed in the kitchen because the one time she cut her finger, she collapsed, scaring everyone to death.
To others, this might just be a dead rat.
To her, it's a nightmare she's living in.
I swallow hard and take slow steps toward her.
The girl who only likes to smile.
The girl who never cries.
Her friend, who's sobbing uncontrollably, moves aside when she sees me.
I crouch down. "Ziah?" I call gently.
She stiffens at my voice.
"I'm here, sweetheart. Come out."
She peeks up, slowlyâher eyes locking onto mine.
And then she breaks.
A sob rips from her lips as she throws herself forward.
I barely manage to react in time, placing my hand over her head so she doesn't hit it. She doesâbut thankfully against my palm, not the desk.
The force of her body slamming into mine nearly knocks me over, but I steady myself, wrapping my arms around her.
She buries her face in my neck, her entire body trembling.
"It's scary," she whimpers between sobs.
I rub her back. "Shh... it's okay. You're safe now."
She shakes her head frantically. "I'm not. He'll cut my finger."
A frown forms on my lips. "What?"
A sudden gasp leaves her lips. As if she's just realized something.
And before I can react, she pulls awayâher hands yanking at her engagement ring.
"Ziah, stop! You're hurting yourself!" I grab her hands as she pulls at the ring with frantic desperation.
"I'll do it," I say softly, prying her fingers away.
I slide the ring off gently, my stomach twisting when I see the scratches she's left on her skin in her panic.
She stares at her bare finger, her breath shuddering.
"I'm scared," she whispers.
And my heart cracks into a million pieces.
"I'm sorry," I whisper back, pulling her into my arms. Holding her tight. Holding her safe.
"Ziah, don't cry, please. I can't see you like this," a trembling voice cuts through the tension.
I lift my chin and see a young man, likely in his twenties, standing beside Zach. He's leaning on Zach's shoulder, weeping openly.
"Mateo, stop that," Zach mumbles, clearly annoyed.
But Mateo glares at him. "My Ziah is crying, and you're telling me to calm down?" He shoves Zach away, and my focus sharpens on his wordsâmy Ziah? What the hell is happening in my office?
I push the thought aside for now. Ziah is slowly dozing off in my arms. Straightening up, I help her to her feet. "Let's go home." I offer her a reassuring smile, and she nods, hugging herself. Quickly, I slip off my coat and wrap it around her. The room isn't cold, but she's trembling, and I can't bear to see her like this.
A collective gasp ripples through the crowd when she suddenly stumblesâand before I can react, she collapses.
"Ya Allah," I exhale sharply, my heart lurching in my chest.
I catch her just in time, pulling her limp body against mine before she hits the ground. Worried murmurs rise around me. I gently pat her pale cheeks, but her head tilts lifelessly to the side. That's all it takes for panic to grip me.
"Max!" I spot him standing frozen in the corner. "Tell my driver to start the car. Now."
He nods frantically and rushes out.
"Please take care of my Ziah," Mateo sniffles beside me, his words sending another frown to my face. But I don't have time to process anything else.
Pushing through the curious onlookers, I race downstairs. People are crowding near the entrance, whispering and stretching their necks to see what's happening. If I weren't so out of my mind with worry, I'd have given them a nice lecture about privacy.
The moment I spot the car with its doors already open, I mentally thank my driver for his efficiency. I settle Ziah inside as gently as I can before slipping in beside her.
"Ziah?" I try again, patting her cheek. No response.
My hands tighten around my phone as I dial Fuzail's number. He picks up within two rings.
"Ziyan? You're calling me? Am I hallucinating, or did I save the wrong number?" His voice is laced with surprise.
Any other time, I would've joked back, but right now, my mouth refuses to curve up.
"Fuzail, please be at my house in fiveâwith a doctor. It's an emergency." My voice is unsteady, betraying my panic.
"Bro, what's wrong? Did something happen to Aunty?" His concern sharpens.
"No, she's fine. Just do as I said. Now." Without waiting for a response, I end the call.
My gaze falls back on Ziah. Her face is frighteningly pale, her body weak from all the crying. Guilt weighs heavy on my chest.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should have protected you." My fingers gently brush against her cheek as I tuck her hijab properly.
This is wrong. Me hugging her, touching her, holding her in my armsâit's wrong. I'm her cousin. I should keep my distance.
But I want to hold her closer. I want to whisper reassurances in her ear, to shield her from all of this. And I'm so frustrated that I can't. Not yet.
That's going to change. Soon.
By the time we reach home, I waste no time carrying her inside. Thank Allah Ammi is in her room, but our maid gasps loudly at the sight of us and rushes forward.
"What happened to Ziah?! Is she alright?"
"She fainted," I say, my voice strained. "I don't know what to do, so I brought her here. Please call the nurseânow."
She nods frantically and hurries off.
I push open Ziah's bedroom door and gently lay her on the bed. Sitting at the edge, I slip off her shoes before setting them aside.
The maid returns with the nurse, who carries medical supplies. I trust herâshe's highly qualifiedâbut I still asked Fuzail to bring a doctor, just to be safe.
"Aunty," I turn to the maid. "Please remove her hijab and abaya so she doesn't suffocate. I'll wait outside."
With that, I step out, shutting the door behind me. My hands ball into fists as I exhale deeply.
Now comes the difficult part.
Calling Ziah's parents.
Three Hours Later
"Please, Bhabhi, stop crying," my Chachi pleads, trying to console Ziah's sobbing mother.
"Who the hell is behind my daughter?" she wails, her voice breaking.
"So many things happened, and you didn't think to tell me?!" Fuzail huffs for the hundredth time, convinced his anger is more important than the situation at hand.
"My baby has been asleep for three hours!" Ziah's grandma cries. "I'm so worried!"
"Yes, Mamma!" Ziah's mother gasps. "She's not even waking up! What if she gets thirsty in her sleep?!"
I rub my temples, exhausted. For God's sake.
"She's not in a coma," I snap. "She fainted, and the doctor gave her medication. She'll wake up soon."
Ziah's mom gasps and punches my arm. "Astaghfirullah! Someone put something sweet in this boy's mouth!" She immediately starts reciting Ayatul Kursi, facing Ziah's room as she blows the verses toward her.
I press my fingers against my forehead. Ya Allah, give me patience.
But she's not done yet. Raising her hands in prayer, she cries out, "Ya Allah, protect my child from evil eyes!"
"Ameen!" the entire room echoes loudly.
I groan. "I called you all here for a reason, not to hold a prayer gathering. Can you please be serious for once and listen?"
The room falls silent.
"Thank you," I mutter, only for them to start againâ'No problem, darling! It's okay! We forgive you!' and other dramatic responses.
Why is my family like this?
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Can I speak now?"
They nod, finally sitting up straight.
"Aunty, Ziah is in danger. We all know that. I don't know who's behind this, but one thing is clearâhe's against me marrying her. Or rather, he's against Ziah marrying anyone."
Aunty gasps. Uncle's brows furrow. The others exchange worried glances.
"There was a note in the box," I continue. "It said to remove her ringâor he would do it himself. That means he can't stand seeing her with someone else."
Tears stream down Aunty's face as she listens.
"So you're saying..." she whispers. "We should cancel the wedding?"
The room tenses.
Everyone leans in, awaiting my response.
"When," I deadpan, "did I ever say that?"
Silence.
"Then what do we do?" Uncle finally asks.
I look him straight in the eye. "How long does it take to plan a wedding?"
"A month," Aunty replies.
"A week," Uncle says at the same time.
A week?! So you want to finish the nikkah with just dates? In a week, how can we buy dresses, pack them, prepare them, and sort out the cards and everything?" She glares at her husband, who gives her a smile, nodding.
"I forgot about that. Beta (son), one month." He raises his index finger as he tells me, and a sigh leaves my lips.
"Aunty, Ziah has clothes. You just have to buy her a wedding dress, and invitations can be sent through calls and emails." She nods in understanding.
"Yeah, so maybe two weeks? But why are you asking?" God, are they really older than me?
"Four days. In four days, we are getting married so she can stay in my house, and I'll be able to protect her. That can only happen if she stays with me. You can start the preparations now. I think four days is enough, and on the fifth day, we will be getting married." I stand up, but a gasp leaves everyone's lips, and Aunty pulls me back down to sit.
"Four days?! You're asking us to prepare everything in four days?!" She yells at the top of her lungs, and I squint my eyes at her loud voice.
"Yes. Now, please don't waste your time. You have Hafsa and Nisma, who can help with dresses. The men can handle the venue and decorations, and you aunties can invite people by sending them the cards through messages and emails. As easy as it sounds, it can be done if you don't stress." I give her a smile but look at Mamma, who smiles and nods. I already talked to her about this, and she was completely fine with it, so I don't think there's any problem.
"Laiba, what is he saying?! Ya Allah, my head is spinning! In four days, all the ritualsâeverythingâhow are we going to do it?!" She holds her head, and I roll my eyes at her drama.
"You don't have to do any rituals," I tell her but flinch when she gives me a good glare.
"Ziah is my only daughter, and you want her wedding to be done with water and dates? That's not happening! You have challenged Haniya Sheikh Othman Aliânow see how I do all the rituals in the best way possible!" She grins ear to ear, and I sigh at her bipolar self. "Ziah's wedding will be in everyone's memory till they die! It's going to beâ"
She was cut off soon.
"Sir, madam is awake!" The nurse rushes toward us, and we all quickly stand up at her words.
"My daughter!!" Aunty yells before rushing to her room, and everyone follows her.
I hope she doesn't get startled seeing them.
"My baby!" I stand near the door with my arms crossed as I watch Aunty hugging her daughter, who is giggling quietly. A smile forms on my lips when I see her smileâa smile that could make anybody smile.
"You scared us!" Ziah's grandma slaps her face lightly but then pushes her mom away to hug her.
"I am sorry," she giggles, hugging her. "I am absolutely fine now."
They nod, and now Uncle is the only one who hugs his daughter.
"My daughter is so strong, just like her daddy." She nods, laughing when her father says it with a proud smile.
"Umm... where is Ziyan?" She questions them, and they all quickly snap their heads to look at me. I roll my eyes at how obvious they are.
I walk toward the lying girl, who still looks weak and pale in my eyes. "How are you feeling now?" I question her, and an inaudible "I'm fine" leaves her lips.
"Ziah, you know what Ziyan decided without asking ourâ"
I cut her off before she makes the girl faint again. "Aunty, she looks hungry. We can talk about it later, but first, feed her something."
She looks at me with wide eyes, as if she's just now realized.
"Take rest." I give her a soft smile, and she returns one. Then, I leave the place with many things on my mind.
Next Day
"Are you sure he's the best, Fuzail?" I ask my cousin, who is munching on chips, nodding his head.
"Bro, he's my best friend. I know himâhe's the best detective ever," he tells me and goes back to munching his chips.
I squeeze my fingers nervously, waiting for Fuzail's friendâthe detectiveâto arrive at my office so we can discuss things.
I hope this works.
When we hear a knock on the door, my head snaps toward Fuzail, who grins happily. With a wink, he rushes to open the door as if it's locked.
"Broâwho are you?" Fuzail questions, stepping aside. I take a peek and see Mateo standing there.
"Yes?" I ask him to come in. "Do you need something? You can talk about work with MaxâI'm busy right now," I tell him, but he shakes his head and rushes toward me.
"Umm... it's about Ziah. I have something to confess."
When he says Ziah's name, my heart thumps against my chest at the possibility.
******