24| What Changed?

W H A T C H A N G E D ?

W O R D C O U N T: 4728

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Long chapter ahead!

Anaabiya paced the length of her room, her heart hammering with unease. She hadn't spoken to Nabiha since the wedding, and the silence cut deeper than she wanted to admit. It felt deliberate—as if Nabiha was relieved to have her gone.

She swallowed the sting of that thought, forcing herself to focus on what mattered.

She didn't need to force a relationship where it wasn't wanted. If Nabiha wanted nothing to do with her, then fine. She wouldn't reach out again.

But first, she just needed to know that her sister was okay.

That was all. Just confirmation that she was safe. Then she would let go.

She had already asked Bibijaan to find out about Uzair's condition, and thankfully, he had been discharged and was back home. Today, she had asked her to do the same for Nabiha—to find out anything she could.

But so far, there was nothing.

And with Humza having taken her phone, she was completely cut off. She had borrowed Bibijaan's to call Nabiha, but no matter how many times she dialed, the call went unanswered. That was when the real panic set in.

Nabiha might have ignored her number—but she wouldn't ignore an unknown one, would she?

Then why wasn't she picking up?

A tight coil of dread twisted in her stomach, squeezing at her ribs.

Frustration mounted as she bit down on her lower lip—only to wince at the sudden sting.

Her fingers ghosted over her lips, and a wave of unwelcome memories crashed over her.

Humza.

His punishing kiss. The way he had stolen the breath from her lungs, his grip firm, unrelenting. The roughness of it. The heat. The way she had struggled against him, and yet—

She sucked in a sharp breath, shaking her head as if she could shake the thoughts away.

Her lips were no longer swollen, only faintly tender, yet her body still betrayed her—still remembered.

She hated that. Hated how the memory lingered, how it made something unfamiliar flutter deep in her stomach.

No.

She refused to dwell on it.

She had more important things to worry about.

Like finding out what had happened to Nabiha.

A knock at the door jolted Anaabiya from her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, pushing aside the unease that still clung to her.

The door opened, and Bibijaan stepped inside, a warm smile on her face.

"How are you, my love?" she asked, her voice gentle as always. "I brought your clothes for tomorrow's party."

Anaabiya blinked, momentarily thrown. Party?

Then she remembered—Humza had sealed some major business deal, and to celebrate, he was hosting a grand event right here in the house.

There was going to be dancing, music, endless chatter, and strangers she had no interest in meeting. Everything Anaabiya despised.

From the way the house buzzed with activity—staff rushing around, decorations being set up, security doubling at the gates—it was clear this party was important to Humza.

Anaabiya sighed, already dreading the mere thought of it.

"I don't feel like going to the party," she admitted, glancing at Bibijaan hopefully. "Can I skip it?"

She expected agreement, or at least sympathy, but instead, Bibijaan hesitated.

"Well... initially, you weren't supposed to attend at all," she confessed, adjusting the fabric of the dress in her hands. "Humza thought it would be too risky."

Anaabiya scoffed, folding her arms. "I'm shocked he suddenly cares about my safety when he's the biggest danger to me."

Bibijaan's gaze softened, but there was a sadness there, an uncertainty that made Anaabiya shift uncomfortably.

"I know," she murmured, almost apologetically. "He has been the worst with you. But..." She exhaled, as if struggling to find the right words. "I've known him for years, seen him at his worst, but this—this is different. He's always been ruthless, but never without reason. Every move he made was calculated. But lately..." She shook her head. "I don't understand him anymore. One moment, he wants to protect you. The next, he hurts you."

Anaabiya frowned, not sure what Bibijaan was trying to imply.

She didn't understand—because she didn't agree.

Humza had never tried to protect her. If anything, he had gone out of his way to prove she meant nothing to him. Time and again, he had made it clear that he neither cared for her nor wanted her in his life but was forced to go on with this arrangement for a year.

Yet, for some reason, there was always a slight pang in her chest whenever she thought about it.

It was foolish, really. Because for a fleeting moment, she had thought he wasn't so bad. But lately, he had shown her exactly who he was.

A man incapable of love.

Bibijaan hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice gentle yet firm. "Anaabiya, maybe you should talk to Humza about your sister. He has resources, connections... If anyone can find out about her, it's him."

Anaabiya's stomach twisted at the mere thought. Asking Humza for help was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I don't want his help," she muttered, looking away.

"I know, my love," Bibijaan sighed. "But I've tried, and I haven't been able to find out anything. If something has happened to her, Humza could get answers faster than we ever could."

Anaabiya clenched her fists at her sides. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the idea of going to him, of giving him another reason to think she needed him. But this wasn't about her pride. This was about Nabiha.

Her younger sister, the one who had shut her out, distanced herself, but still—she was her sister. And no matter what, there was nothing Anaabiya wouldn't do to protect her.

Even if it meant putting aside her ego and facing the one person she wanted to avoid the most.

Anaabiya's gaze finally dropped to Bibijaan's hands, where a large zippered garment bag hung carefully over her arm. The faint outline of the fabric within caught her attention, and with a small nod of encouragement from Bibijaan, she hesitantly reached for the zipper and pulled it down.

The gown inside was breathtaking. A soft, elegant shade of deep sapphire, its fabric shimmered subtly under the light, a delicate interplay of silk and intricate embroidery. The bodice was adorned with intricate silver threadwork, forming delicate patterns that cascaded down to the flowing skirt like fallen stars. The sleeves were long, sheer with the same silver embroidery trailing down to her wrists, adding an ethereal touch.

Draped over the hanger beside it was a matching hijab—simple yet exquisite. Made of the softest chiffon, it was designed to complement the gown perfectly, with just a hint of beading along the edges for a touch of grace.

Anaabiya's fingers traced the embroidery absentmindedly, her heart warming despite herself. "It's beautiful," she murmured, unable to hide her admiration.

Bibijaan exhaled as if she had been holding something in. She opened her mouth, as if to say something—hesitation flickering across her features—but then, just as quickly, she closed it again. Instead, she gave a small shrug and smiled softly. "I'm glad you liked it."

Anaabiya frowned slightly, sensing there was something left unsaid. But before she could ask, Bibijaan patted her hand lightly and turned toward the door.

The very next day Anaabiya sighed, staring at the dress laid out before her. She hadn't wanted to go to the party. The idea of being surrounded by so many people, of pretending to fit into a world that wasn't hers, exhausted her. But at the same time... she wanted to wear the dress.

It was beautiful, and a part of her longed to see how it would look on her.

Giving up the battle with herself, she got ready.

When she finally stood before the mirror, she almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her. The deep sapphire gown draped around her figure like liquid silk, the delicate embroidery glinting under the soft light of the room. The sheer, embroidered sleeves hugged her arms elegantly, and the modest yet perfectly tailored design made her look... regal.

The matching hijab framed her face gently, its fabric falling effortlessly over her shoulders. The subtle beading along the edges caught the light, giving her an almost ethereal glow. Her skin looked softer, her eyes brighter against the rich color of the dress.

She swallowed, gripping the dresser lightly.

She looked good. Beautiful, if she dared to accept.

But why did it feel like she was wearing someone else's life?

The mansion was alive with activity, the hum of conversation and laughter filtering through the walls as guests arrived in droves. The grand foyer was no doubt teeming with people—powerful, dangerous people. The kind that thrived in Humza's world. The kind she wanted no part of.

Anaabiya stood by the dresser, absently rifling through the chest of drawers, searching for absolutely nothing. She had no real reason to delay going downstairs except for the gnawing reluctance in her chest. The thought of stepping into that crowd, of facing him tonight, made her stomach twist uncomfortably. And yet, she had to. She would at least ask for her phone back. How she had managed to survive without it for this long was beyond her.

Maliha, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. "The guests are already here. We have to go down now," she urged, barely containing her enthusiasm.

Anaabiya didn't share her eagerness. "Go ahead. I'll be there soon," she said, pretending to be occupied with the contents of the drawer.

Thankfully, Maliha bought the excuse. With a last glance in the mirror, she turned on her heel and left, leaving Anaabiya alone with the distant sounds of music and chatter seeping through the closed door.

She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Even after Malihah was gone, she lingered, trying to prolong the inevitable. But after ten minutes, she could no longer justify hiding. Taking a deep breath, she finally moved toward the door, steeling herself.

Just as she was about to step out, a pair of voices from the corridor made her freeze.

She stopped abruptly, her hand hovering over the doorknob as her ears strained to listen. The voices were low, hushed, but unmistakably serious.

"Keep an eye on her. I want you to guard her with your life."

Anaabiya's breath caught.

Humza.

Even after a day of avoiding him, the sound of his voice still sent shivers down her spine. It was firm, commanding, completely unwavering. But what made her heartbeat stutter was who he was talking about.

Her fingers tightened on the doorknob as she leaned slightly closer, desperate to catch every word.

"I don't know. I am not so sure about today. We have to be careful. I told you not to bring her—it's too dangerous," another male voice responded, his tone quieter but firm, laced with concern.

"But keeping her away would only draw more attention," Humza countered, his voice taut with tension. "It would make her an even bigger target. I can't protect her if I can't keep her in my sight."

Anaabiya's breath hitched.

The weight in their voices, the urgency—it sent a ripple of unease through her. Were they talking about her?

And if they were...

Why did she need protection?

A frown creased her forehead. Who were they talking about?

The urgency in their voices unsettled her. The way Humza spoke, the way he ordered protection—it was deliberate. Serious. It meant something.

Her stomach twisted with unease.

Something was going on.

And she had a feeling she wouldn't like it.

Anaabiya had been trying to be discreet, to blend into the shadows and eavesdrop without getting caught—but, of course, her treacherous heels had other plans.

Just as she shifted slightly to hear more, the absurdly high stilettos on her feet decided to betray her. One moment she was carefully leaning against the door, the next she was stumbling forward into the dimly lit corridor, arms flailing wildly in a desperate attempt to regain balance.

Ya Allah, not now!

With an awkward jolt, she somehow managed to steady herself—barely. But the damage was already done.

Two pairs of eyes snapped to her, freezing her in place like a deer caught in headlights.

Great. Just great.

She let out a nervous chuckle, pasting an awkward smile on her lips as if she hadn't just made the most embarrassing entrance of the century.

And then she met Humza's gaze.

Her breath hitched.

He was staring at her, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable—something intense. For a fleeting moment, she forgot how to breathe. Because wow.

If she could just forget—just for a second—that he was an absolute nightmare to deal with, she would've easily admitted that he looked devastatingly handsome.

The navy blue tuxedo fit him too perfectly, hugging his broad frame in a way that should be illegal. The crisp white shirt beneath it contrasted sharply against his tan skin, the top button left undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his collarbone. His golden watch glinted under the dim hallway lights, his polished shoes gleaming as if he had never known a single speck of dust.

He looked... otherworldly. Like a fallen angel who belonged in the dark.

And worst of all, he looked exactly like he had that night.

The memory of that kiss came crashing into her mind like an unwanted intruder.

The way his body had pressed her into the mattress, his firm hold on her wrists. The heat of his skin against hers. The way he had kissed her—like he couldn't get enough, like he had wanted to consume her whole.

Anaabiya's fingers twitched at her sides as she snapped herself out of the memory, disgusted that it had even surfaced.

How could she hate something so much yet still not stop thinking about it?

And now, seeing him standing there looking like that, it only made it worse. It made her remember.

She was supposed to hate Humza. To think about Uzair. To hold onto the memories of the only person who had ever made her feel like she wasn't alone. But the more time passed, the more she realized that maybe—just maybe—what Bibijaan had said was true.

Because if she had truly been in love with Uzair, would she have been so selfish?

Would she have wished, even for a second, that he would come and take her away—knowing exactly what that would mean for him?

Her chest tightened at the thought. She knew Humza. She knew what he was capable of. If Uzair even tried to come near her, Humza would kill him. And yet...

She had still wished for it.

What kind of love was that?

She had been thinking more about Humza than she would have liked to admit.

Anaabiya exhaled shakily, rubbing her temples as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Had she ever really loved Uzair? Or had she only clung to him because he was the only light in the darkness? The only person who had given her comfort when she had nothing else?

Maybe she had confused gratitude with love. Maybe it had never been love at all.

The thought unsettled her.

Because if she had been wrong about that, then what else had she been wrong about?

"Assalamo Alaikum," Humza suddenly blurted out, snapping her out of her chaotic thoughts.

Anaabiya blinked. She had never heard him say salam to anyone.

For a split second, a look of absolute horror passed over his face as if he had just said something unforgivable—like he had accidentally admitted to watching romantic dramas in front of his mafia friends or recited poetry during a business deal.

His jaw clenched, and his fists curled at his sides. He cursed under his breath, his nostrils flaring as his entire demeanor shifted in an instant.

Even Huzaifa, the man beside him, furrowed his brows in confusion. His sharp eyes flickered between Humza and Anaabiya, clearly registering the unexpected shift in Humza's demeanor. But instead of making a comment, he remained silent. With a subtle movement, he took a step back, deliberately creating space between them—whether out of curiosity or quiet amusement, Anaabiya couldn't tell.

She stared between them, utterly baffled. What just happened?

"Walaikum Assalam?" she responded hesitantly, her voice lilting up at the end, making it sound more like a question than a greeting.

Humza's darkened gaze swept over her from head to toe, his expression hardening, his fists clenching even tighter.

She had no idea what had just transpired, but one thing was clear—she had somehow managed to shake the unshakable Humza.

And for that alone, she considered this embarrassing moment almost worth it.

Humza cleared his throat, but it did nothing to hide the fact that he was still checking her out. His eyes moved over her slowly, deliberately, as if committing every detail to memory. Anaabiya could practically hear his thoughts: You shouldn't look this good.

"You need to stay away from me tonight," he finally said, though his gaze remained stubbornly on her.

"Right! You are delusional if you feel I want to stay with you." Anaabiya rolled her eyes.

"Whatever! Just stay away." He shrugged.

Anaabiya crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Why? Afraid I'll ruin your big, bad image?"

His lips twitched. "No. Afraid I won't be able to keep my hands off you."

She gasped, eyes widening in outrage. "You—"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm only saying it for your own good. Just behave and stay out of trouble."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why do you even care? I thought I didn't mean anything to you?"

Humza tilted his head, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "You don't. But see, the problem is... I like my things intact." His voice dropped slightly, teasing yet dangerously smooth. "And whether you like it or not, right now, you are mine."

Anaabiya huffed in frustration ignoring the way her heart had picked up pace, but before she could fire back, he leaned in just enough for only her to hear. "But if you do miss me, you know where to find me."

She scoffed, lifting her chin. "I'd rather walk into a pit of snakes."

Humza let out a low chuckle, completely unfazed. "Oh, sweetheart, you already did. And I'm the biggest one of them all."

Anaabiya rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but just as she stepped past him, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "But if you do miss me, don't worry—I'll find you first."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of a response, but the shiver that ran down her spine betrayed her.

As Anaabiya descended the grand staircase, the sight before her sent a shiver down her spine. The hall was transformed into a vision of opulence—golden chandeliers cast a warm, flickering glow over the vast space, their light reflecting off the polished marble floors. The scent of expensive cologne, cigars, and something darker—something unspoken—hung in the air, thick enough to choke on.

But it wasn't the luxurious decor or the extravagant displays of wealth that unsettled her. It was the people.

Men dressed in finely tailored suits stood in small clusters, their hushed conversations laced with an edge of danger. Some laughed, swirling dark liquor in crystal glasses, their eyes sharp, predatory. Others spoke in low tones, their expressions unreadable, exuding power and ruthlessness. These weren't ordinary businessmen; they were the kind of men who made fortunes off blood and destruction. The type that didn't blink before pulling a trigger.

Her skin prickled as she passed by a group near the entrance—one of them, a man with a cruel smirk and a scar running down his cheek, let his gaze linger on her a little too long. Anaabiya quickly looked away, swallowing the unease rising in her throat.

Women were present too, draped in expensive dresses, their bodies adorned with diamonds, their laughter silky but empty. She could tell they knew exactly the kind of men they surrounded themselves with—and they didn't seem to mind. If anything, they seemed to revel in it.

She had expected this, of course. This was Humza's world, and tonight, she was standing in the middle of it. A world where the rich and powerful played by their own rules, where alliances were forged over drinks and betrayals were sealed with a bullet.

Her fingers curled at her sides as she steeled herself. She didn't belong here. And yet, there was no escaping it.

"Anaabiya..."

She heard her name being called, a voice familiar yet unexpected in the midst of this dangerous crowd. She turned swiftly, her eyes widening in disbelief before a genuine smile broke across her face.

"Ahad!" she squealed, momentarily forgetting where she was. The sheer happiness she felt at seeing him made her sound like an excited child, her usual guarded demeanor slipping away.

Ahad grinned at her reaction, his amusement clear as he opened his arms slightly as if to say, surprise!

"What are you doing here?" she asked, unable to contain her joy.

"Your dear husband invited me," he chortled, shaking his head as if even he couldn't quite believe it.

Her eyebrows shot up in shock. "Waao! You must have done something really good," she mocked, still unable to wrap her head around the fact that Humza had willingly invited Ahad.

Whatever his reason, she didn't care. For the first time that evening, she felt like she could breathe a little easier. The suffocating weight of the party, the unnerving gazes, and the ever-present dread in her chest all faded into the background.

With Ahad here, maybe the night wouldn't be so unbearable after all.

Ahad smirked, leaning in slightly. "I heard there's going to be a performance by a very famous female dancer tonight."

Anaabiya scoffed, crossing her arms. "Ah, now I know why you're really here," she teased, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Ahad laughed, not even bothering to deny it. "What can I say? I appreciate good talent."

They continued talking, their conversation light and easy, filled with laughter that made Anaabiya momentarily forget where she was. For the first time in a long while, she felt happy. She still couldn't believe Humza had done this—had invited Ahad, knowing how much his presence would mean to her.

Without thinking, her eyes searched for him in the crowd. And when she found him, she realized he was already looking at her.

Even though he was surrounded by men and women, his attention was solely on her. He didn't smirk, didn't wear his usual teasing expression. Instead, he smiled—soft, almost apologetic, as if silently acknowledging all the wrongs he had done to her.

Anaabiya's heart should have remained unmoved, but something about that look made it falter.

And then her gaze shifted.

The woman standing beside him—the same one from Iqra's party. The one who had been practically draped over him that night.

Anaabiya's brows furrowed.

She looked just as stunning as before, her elegance effortless, her confidence unwavering. But what irked Anaabiya wasn't her beauty—it was her hand. Intertwined with Humza's. As if they were a couple. As if she belonged there.

A sharp, unexpected irritation flared inside Anaabiya.

He has some nerve.

Flirting with her, kissing her as if he couldn't get enough, and then going around holding hands with another woman?

She clenched her jaw, willing herself to look away. She didn't understand why this bothered her so much, why it made her chest feel uncomfortably tight. But whatever moment of softness she had felt seeing him smile at her was now gone.

She didn't smile back.

Instead, she turned her face away, pretending as if his gesture—whatever it was—meant absolutely nothing to her.

Anaabiya's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the unexpected sight before her. Malika—who had always been possessive, always hovering around Humza like a shadow, staking her claim without words—was barely paying him any attention.

Instead, she had brought an escort of her own.

That was new.

Anaabiya's gaze flickered between Malika and the man at her side. He was tall, well-dressed, and seemed utterly captivated by her. But what struck Anaabiya the most was Malika herself—how effortlessly she laughed at something he whispered in her ear, how she barely spared Humza a glance.

It was unusual.

For as long as Anaabiya had known of her, Malika had been the type to demand Humza's attention, to cling to him with a sense of entitlement. And yet, tonight, she looked... indifferent. As if he wasn't even there.

What changed?

Anaabiya couldn't help but feel a strange sense of unease.

Anaabiya turned at the sound of her name just as Rafiya Aunty approached, her warm smile instantly easing some of the tension in her chest.

"Assalamo Alaikum, my love," Rafiya Aunty greeted, embracing her gently.

"Wa Alaikum Assalam," Anaabiya replied, hugging her back.

Rafiya Aunty turned to Ahad and greeted him just as warmly before Anaabiya introduced them. "This is my friend, Ahad."

"Ah, it's nice to finally meet you," Rafiya Aunty said with a kind nod before turning her gaze back to Anaabiya. She took in her appearance, her eyes glinting with approval. "You look very pretty tonight."

"Thank you," Anaabiya replied shyly.

"Humza has a good taste, doesn't he?"

Anaabiya froze.

"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The dress, my dear," Rafiya Aunty said, oblivious to the way Anaabiya's expression shifted from confusion to pure horror. "Humza picked it out for you."

Her stomach twisted. He bought it?

A sudden, irrational urge to run upstairs and change into anything else—anything that wasn't chosen by him—overwhelmed her. She hated it. She hated that he had chosen something so beautiful for her. She hated that it flattered her so perfectly. She hated that he had done this without her even knowing.

Why?

It felt like some sort of twisted joke—like she was just another one of the many women he played with. Just earlier, he had been flirting with her, his words laced with arrogance, his eyes filled with amusement. And now, across the room, there he was—laughing, whispering to another woman as if she was the only one who mattered.

Her gaze found him before she could stop herself.

He was deep in conversation with another man, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. But it was the woman beside him that made Anaabiya's blood simmer. She was clinging to him, her body angled towards his, her hands resting on his arm. They looked like the perfect couple—the it couple of the night.

And she hated it.

For some reason, she hated it.

Rafiya Aunty followed her gaze, then let out a knowing sigh, shaking her head. "I used to hate it too."

Anaabiya blinked and turned to her, confused. "Hate what?"

"The pretend girl."

Anaabiya frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rafiya Aunty smiled slightly before explaining, "The kind of business Humza is in... this is important. It's a façade, a necessary illusion to confuse enemies. To shift their focus. The girl beside him? She's a trained security personnel."

Anaabiya's breath hitched.

"What?" she whispered, glancing back at them.

"Humza's father had a pretend mistress too," Rafiya Aunty continued softly. "At parties like these, he would often avoid me completely, pretending we had no real bond. It was difficult, but it was necessary."

Anaabiya's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"Because they have enemies who watch their every move, waiting for any sign of weakness. If they knew who he truly cared about, they would use it against him."

Anaabiya's chest tightened.

Was that why Humza acted the way he did? Was that why he distanced himself, pretended she didn't matter?

She wanted to deny it.

But suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore.

E D I T E D on 25.2.2025