27| Put Me Down

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I was wondering, should I continue posting here? Are you guys liking the story? Or should I just delete it and upload the previous version.

I could publish this one directly on amazon and not here if you guys don't like it much? Because then there is  no point publishing it here.

Anyway enjoy! 😘

The night was a blur of music and swirling skirts, laughter echoing through the grand hall as couples spun across the polished floor. But Anaabiya sat still, perched on the sofa in the foyer with Ahad, watching the festivities like a pair of misfits who had no place among the glittering crowd. She wasn't sure why she had agreed to come in the first place. Perhaps because she had thought—foolishly—that it wouldn't matter. That she wouldn't care.

But she did care.

Her gaze found Humza the moment he stepped back into the room, his presence commanding as always, even when he seemed determined to avoid attention. It made her wonder if he had waited before making his entrance, just to avoid suspicion. And then, within minutes, he had taken his pretend mistress to the dance floor.

Anaabiya clenched her jaw. He was good—so good that, for a moment, she almost believed the act herself. His easy laughter, the way he flirted, how effortlessly he wrapped his arm around the woman's waist, pulling her flush against him. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled down at her. It was a performance, of course, a carefully crafted illusion, but a small voice in the back of Anaabiya's mind whispered—if he can act this well, how would she know that the kindness he had rarely showed her wasn't just another act?

The thought unsettled her more than it should have.

His hand rested possessively on the woman's waist as they moved together, his lips close to her ear as if whispering something only meant for her. And the worst part? The way he looked at her—tender, intense, almost reverent. The way he should have looked at Anaabiya, had their marriage been anything but a contract.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

And then, suddenly, his eyes lifted—colliding directly with hers.

She sucked in a breath, unable to tear her gaze away. It was as if the entire room had vanished, leaving only the two of them locked in a silent battle of wills. His grip on his partner loosened slightly, his expression unreadable, but there was something there—something that made her pulse stutter.

The corner of his mouth twitched, teasing. As if daring her to react.

Anaabiya forced herself to look away, gripping the fabric of her dress to keep her hands from trembling.

This wasn't her. This wasn't who she was.

She knew what Humza was. He had almost killed her—twice. Once when he had wrapped his fingers around her throat, and another when he had aimed a gun at her without hesitation. She had no reason to feel anything but resentment toward him.

And yet...

She hated the way her body betrayed her, the way her mind twisted things into something they weren't. Maybe it wasn't Humza who was dangerous. Maybe it was her—her foolish heart, always seeking safety in the wrong people.

First Uzair.

Now Humza.

The kiss had ruined everything.

She was still drowning in her own thoughts when she felt a presence beside her. Turning her head slightly, she found Huzaifa standing behind her, his expression unreadable.

"Have you been following me?" she asked, raising a brow.

He exhaled, crossing his arms. "I'm only making sure you stay out of trouble, but you're making it difficult by sneaking off like before."

Anaabiya gave him a skeptical look. "Am I?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," she muttered, turning her gaze back to the dance floor.

Humza was no longer looking at her. He was lost in his game, smiling down at his partner like she was the only woman in the world.

Anaabiya's stomach twisted again, but before she could dwell on it, Ahad nudged her.

"This party is miserable. Let's dance."

She considered it for a moment. She was terrible at dancing. He was terrible at dancing. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

She grinned. "Fine."

"It's already too crowded," Huzaifa interjected, frowning. "You shouldn't go in there."

"And why not?" she challenged.

"Because I said so."

She scoffed. "We're going, Huzaifa."

He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "Anaabiya, stop making this difficult. Humza will have my head for this."

But she wasn't listening. She and Ahad were already making their way toward the dance floor, weaving between the other guests.

She didn't have to look to know that Humza's gaze was on her again. She could feel it—burning, intense, possessive.

Good. Let him watch.

Ahad and Anaabiya were a disaster, tripping over their own feet, laughing at their own incompetence.

"We might be the worst dancers here," Ahad chuckled, shaking his head.

"We are the worst dancers here," Anaabiya corrected. Then, grinning mischievously, she added, "You should get married."

Ahad groaned dramatically. "So I can suffer like you? No, thank you."

She gasped in mock offense, swatting his arm.

Their laughter was cut short when a deep voice interrupted.

"Let's switch partners."

Anaabiya turned toward the man who had spoken—a broad-shouldered stranger, towering and imposing, his eyes glinting with something too keen, too knowing. His grip on his own partner was firm, bordering on possessive. He was dressed impeccably, his dark blazer hugging his muscular frame. The color was eerily similar to Humza's.

A sliver of unease curled in Anaabiya's stomach.

"No," came a sharp voice.

Humza.

His answer was immediate, leaving no room for argument.

The man let out a low chuckle. "Come on, Humza. It's just a dance. Don't be so possessive."

A muscle ticked in Humza's jaw. The other guests murmured their agreement, encouraging the switch.

Anaabiya turned to face him fully, meeting his gaze head-on. His eyes were dark, simmering with an unspoken warning.

She knew that look. He was telling her to back down.

But Humza didn't know her well enough—he never had.

She had never been the type to obey.

And if he thought he could control her, he was about to be sorely mistaken.

Anaabiya felt a chill crawl up her spine from the way he was looking at her. It was something in his eyes—something dark, something that made her instincts scream at her to step back. Every rational thought urged her to retreat, to vanish into the crowd, to escape the intensity of his scrutiny.

But she didn't.

The ballroom had already come alive with movement, the elegant waltz turning the dance floor into a mesmerizing whirl of color and laughter. A circle had formed, dancers moving in rhythm, their partners changing with each song. It was a simple rule—when the melody shifted, so did the hands that held you.

Ahad, ever the mischievous one, seemed to be enjoying himself. His grin was wide, his energy infectious.

"Too eager to toss me aside, aren't you?" Anaabiya muttered, arching a brow at him.

He chuckled, nodding toward the third couple to their right. "If you don't go, how will she come?"

Anaabiya followed his gaze and found herself staring at a strikingly beautiful woman. She narrowed her eyes. "You're not my best friend anymore," she said, feigning deep betrayal.

Ahad rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, please. I know you're only pretending to be upset. We both know you want to dance with your mate."

The teasing remark wiped the amusement from her face. Her heartbeat quickened, but she forced a scowl. "No, I don't."

"Really?" Ahad shot her a knowing look. "Then why have you been giving him all the creepy stares tonight?"

Anaabiya clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Meanwhile, just two dancers away, Humza stood stiffly, barely paying attention to the woman in his arms. His movements were mechanical, his focus elsewhere. Every few seconds, he glanced down at his watch, frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw. He nodded to himself, almost absently, as if he were working through a plan in his mind.

Anaabiya frowned. What was he up to?

Her curiosity deepened when Humza's gaze snapped to hers. She swallowed hard, quickly diverting her attention to the man standing between them—the partner she was about to dance with next.

The stranger's expression sent a shiver down her spine. He wasn't looking at her with mere interest—his gaze was hungry, predatory. His dark eyes roamed over her in a way that made her stomach churn with unease.

Then, just as suddenly, Huzaifa appeared at the man's side, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Whatever he said made the man stiffen before he abruptly ceased dancing. Without a word, he took his partner's hand and disappeared toward a quieter corner of the ballroom.

At that exact moment, the music shifted.

The opening notes of Love Me Like You Do floated through the air, slow and sensual, making Anaabiya's breath catch. The shift in tempo sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd, and before she could brace herself, Ahad twirled her away from his embrace—straight into another's.

Straight into Humza's arms.

The transition was seamless, yet Anaabiya's body tensed the moment his hands found her waist. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips as he pulled her flush against him, eliminating any space between them.

"Finally," Humza murmured, his voice low and edged with something unreadable.

Anaabiya's palms rested hesitantly on his shoulders, but the warmth of his body seeped through the fabric of his suit, making her skin prickle. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as if daring her to step away.

Her heart pounded so violently that she was sure he could feel it against his chest.

"Why don't you ever listen?" Humza's voice was low, edged with frustration, his grip tightening slightly around Anaabiya's waist.

"Because you never stop trying to control me," she shot back, her tone laced with defiance.

"You're being reckless," he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "We weren't supposed to be seen like this. It will make you a target." His jaw clenched as he spoke, the muscle twitching in irritation. He looked at her as if she were a stubborn child who simply refused to understand reason.

He stepped back, his left foot gliding smoothly across the polished floor, and instinctively, Anaabiya followed, her right foot mirroring his movement. It was like an unspoken game, a fox chasing its prey. But the moment she thought she had caught up, he reversed the roles—his left foot surged forward, forcing hers to retreat, surprising her with his effortless control.

Anaabiya gritted her teeth, refusing to be swayed by the rhythm he dictated. "You act as if you are worried for my safety but how do you expect me to believe you when all you've ever done is try to kill me?" The words left her mouth before she had even processed them, but they had been festering inside her for too long.

Humza stilled. His grip on her waist loosened, his expression shifting from frustration to something unreadable.

"I know I don't deserve it," he said after a moment. His voice was softer now, almost hesitant. "But I want to apologize for it."

Anaabiya's breath hitched. Apologize? From him? She had expected him to argue, to deflect, to twist the blame back onto her as he always did. But instead, he was standing there, looking almost—remorseful.

She wasn't sure how to respond, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I want my phone back."

The shift in Humza's demeanor was immediate. Whatever moment of sincerity he had just shown evaporated like mist in the morning sun. His jaw tightened, and a low groan of frustration rumbled from his chest. His fingers flexed against her waist as his eyes darkened.

"So you can talk to your beloved Zubair?" His voice dripped with disdain.

Anaabiya blinked, momentarily thrown off by his misplaced jealousy. "It's Uzair," she corrected, before realizing her mistake.

Humza's expression turned murderous. "Do you enjoy testing my patience?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"Why do you dislike him so much?" she asked, genuinely curious.

His lips curled into a slow smirk. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Only to you, it isn't," he murmured, shaking his head as if she were hopeless.

Anaabiya decided not to dwell on his words. Instead, she took a deep breath and gathered the courage to say what was truly bothering her. "I need to know about my sister. I haven't spoken to her since the wedding. I need my phone to call her again. If there's any way you can find out about her..." She hesitated before forcing the words out. "I'd be grateful."

Humza studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he gave a short nod. "I'll let you know."

Anaabiya exhaled, relieved. But before she could say anything else, she heard someone groan nearby.

"Why isn't the song changing? It's been over five minutes!"

And then, out of nowhere, Humza asked, "Do you love him?"

Anaabiya stiffened. Her head snapped up to meet his gaze. "Who?"

"Zubair." His answer was clipped, but there was something else lurking beneath his tone—something almost vulnerable. She didn't try to correct him this time, she knew it was deliberate.

Anaabiya opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.

Because she didn't. She knew she didn't.

And yet, if that were true, why was she here? Why was she dancing with the man who had shot him? Why was she letting him hold her like this, their bodies closer than they should be?

Shame coiled in her stomach.

Humza's muscles tensed, his hold on her shifting slightly. She didn't even need to look at him to know what he was thinking—he had taken her silence as confirmation.

The moment stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. She wanted to say something, anything, but before she could, Humza beat her to it.

"I'm sorry."

Anaabiya's brows furrowed in confusion. "Sorry?" she echoed, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for.

But before she could ask him something, it happened.

Humza moved swiftly—too swiftly for her to react. His right leg intertwined with her left, knocking her off balance in one calculated move.

A gasp tore from her lips as she stumbled, her body tilting dangerously backward before crashing onto the cold, marble floor. A sharp pain shot through her ankle, forcing a strangled cry from her throat.

And just like that, the song changed.

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, amused by her clumsiness. Heat burned at the back of Anaabiya's neck as she gritted her teeth, gripping her ankle tightly to suppress the pain.

"Are you all right, miss?" A man she didn't recognize crouched beside her, his voice laced with concern.

Humza was kneeling as well, an infuriatingly composed look on his face, as if he hadn't just deliberately sent her crashing to the floor. He met her glare with the same unbothered arrogance he always wore, though something about his stance seemed... tense.

She narrowed her eyes. "You did this," she hissed under her breath.

His lips twitched slightly, a hint of amusement flickering across his face before he leaned in closer—too close. His breath fanned against her ear as he murmured, "You keep playing with fire, sweetheart. You're bound to get burned."

Anaabiya clenched her jaw, fury bubbling inside her.

It was him. It had to be him.

But the way he now pretended to be concerned, his brows furrowed ever so slightly as he reached out to touch her arm, made her stomach churn with frustration.

"Must have been an accident," Humza said smoothly, addressing the other man. "She tends to be a little... unbalanced."

The laughter from the crowd only grew louder.

Anaabiya wanted to strangle him.

But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. So instead, she sucked in a breath, pushed down the pain, and straightened her back. "I don't need your help," she bit out, yanking her arm away from his hold.

Humza chuckled. "I think you do."

And then, before she could stop him, he scooped her up into his arms effortlessly, making the laughter turn into murmurs of surprise.

Anaabiya stiffened. "Put me down."

"Not with that ankle," he said, far too casually. "Besides, we wouldn't want you falling again, now would we?"

Her hands curled into fists as she glared up at him. "I will kill you for this."

His smirk deepened. "Now, that's the spirit."

Anaabiya hated the way her heart reacted to that look. Hated the way the world seemed to shrink around them.

But most of all, she hated that despite everything, a part of her didn't want him to let go, specially because the pain was excruciating.

As the lingering gazes of the crowd made her increasingly self-conscious, Anaabiya instinctively turned her face into the crook of Humza's neck, hoping to shield herself from prying eyes. She wasn't sure why she did it—perhaps out of embarrassment, perhaps out of sheer exhaustion—but she felt his body tense beneath her touch. He said nothing, though, simply carrying her with ease through the grand hallways of the house.

When they finally reached her room, Humza carefully placed her onto the bed. The second she felt the familiar comfort of her mattress, she winced. "You did that on purpose," she accused, her voice sharp with pain.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his disheveled hair. "It wouldn't have happened if you had just left the dance floor willingly," he countered, his tone holding both irritation and something else—concern, maybe.

He grabbed a cushion and carefully propped it beneath her injured leg. His fingers briefly brushed against her ankle as he examined the swelling, his gaze darkening slightly before he pulled away. He muttered something under his breath and began pacing the length of her room.

Anaabiya narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"I should have thought of something else," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She stared at him incredulously. "Are you seriously regretting your choice of sabotage right now?"

He stopped pacing, glanced at her, then sighed. "Just... don't leave your room tonight. Try to sleep. The injury isn't serious. It'll heal soon."

Anaabiya huffed, deliberately turning her head away from him. She didn't want to see his face—especially not when he looked so utterly unfazed.

After a moment, he spoke again. "Do you need anything?" His tone had softened, but she refused to meet his eyes.

"I need clothes to change into," she muttered.

Humza nodded and strode to her wardrobe, pulling out a random dress and placing it on the bed beside her.

Then, to her utter horror, his voice took on a teasing edge. "Do you need any undergarments?"

Anaabiya's face flushed instantly. "No!" she snapped, mortified.

He smirked, clearly amused by her reaction, before stepping aside as a staff member entered with an ice pack. Humza took it and placed it on the nightstand beside her. "Apply this every now and then," he instructed, his voice returning to its usual commanding tone.

Then, with a surprising amount of care, he moved the water bottle on the nightstand closer to her reach. He glanced around the room, seeming satisfied with whatever mental checklist he had, and then clapped his hands together. "Done! Now... do you need help getting changed?" His lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Get out!" Anaabiya yelled, throwing a pillow at him. He ducked it.

Humza chuckled but obeyed, sauntering toward the door. "Sweet dreams, Anaabiya." His tone was mocking, but something about it made her stomach flip.

She exhaled heavily once he was gone. The exhaustion, the pain—it was all catching up to her now. Another staff member entered with a painkiller, and Anaabiya took it without protest.

She groaned in frustration, shutting her eyes, trying to push away the strange emotions swirling in her chest.

It didn't take long for sleep to claim her.

Anaabiya didn't know what time it was when she woke up, but the first thing she felt was heat.

Intense. Suffocating. Overwhelming.

Her lungs constricted painfully as she struggled to breathe. A violent cough tore from her throat, the smoke thick and unrelenting. Panic gripped her as her eyes fluttered open—and horror sank its claws deep into her chest.

Her room was on fire.

Flames danced along the walls, consuming everything in their path. The once-beautiful furniture, the delicate curtains, the expensive decor—all reduced to ashes. The inferno roared like a beast, licking at the edges of her vision, blocking every possible exit.

Her body felt frozen, but fear burned hotter than the fire itself.

She tried to stand, but the pain in her ankle shot through her like a blade, forcing her back down with a strangled cry. "Help!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and desperate. "Somebody, please!"

But who would come?

The memory of a conversation from years ago flashed through her mind.

"Imagine there's a fire in your house, and all your prized possessions are about to burn. If you could save just one thing, what would it be?"

Without hesitation, she had answered, "Nabiha."

And then the follow-up question had come.

"What if the roles were reversed? Would anyone save you?"

She had never been able to answer that.

Nabiha had once laughed and said she'd run for her own life without looking back.

Back then, Anaabiya had laughed too.

But now? Now, as she choked on smoke, as the flames crept closer, as her vision blurred, she realized the cruel truth.

She was nobody's prized possession.

Nobody was coming for her.

Her chest ached. She coughed violently, her hands gripping the burning floor as she tried to crawl toward the window. But the fire had already reached it.

She hesitated for only a second before forcing herself to grab the handle, ignoring the searing pain as the heat scorched her palm. A scream tore from her throat, raw and agonized.

The voices outside were growing louder. She could hear shouts, hurried footsteps—but none of them were near her door.

She was going to die here.

The thought sent a wave of despair crashing over her. Was this how it ended? Had Humza done this? Was this his way of finally getting rid of her?

The world swayed around her. Her limbs felt heavy. She collapsed onto the floor, her vision darkening at the edges.

And then—

The door burst open with a deafening thud.

"Anaabiyaaa!"

Her heart stuttered.

That voice—deep, commanding, desperate—sliced through the haze.

Through the thick smoke, she saw him.

Her saviour.

And at that moment, it felt like she had found an oasis in the middle of a desert.

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E D I T E D on 26.2.2025