28| If We Die, We Die Together

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T O G E T H E R

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I was wondering, do some of you vote even before reading? 😵

Also don't worry I will update here. I just get a little insecure sometimes wondering if you guys are even liking it.

Because it takes a lot of efforts to write the story and when i read any negative comment I start questioning myself. I know it's a flaw i shouldn't let it affect me but I am stupid. I am sorry.

Humza couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his lips as he made his way down to the foyer. Despite the tension thrumming in his veins, despite the storm brewing around him, there was something about Anaabiya's fiery spirit that managed to momentarily ease the weight on his shoulders.

She had shouted at him to get out, her cheeks flushed in frustration, and for the first time that evening, the tightness in his chest had loosened. He loved riling her up—pushing just enough to see that spark in her eyes. Even with everything going on, she had somehow managed to be a moment of peace in the chaos.

But now, there was no time to dwell on that.

He had more pressing matters to deal with.

Someone had been feeding information to his enemies—betraying him in ways he couldn't afford to ignore. The tension had been simmering all night, clawing at the back of his mind, demanding his attention. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted, not even by her.

Still, as he adjusted his cufflinks and rolled his shoulders, preparing himself for what was to come, a thought lingered—unwelcome yet persistent.

She never listens to me.

And yet, he wasn't sure he wanted her to.

As soon as Humza reached the foyer, Huzaifa leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "So much for the pretend mistress," he muttered, his voice laced with amusement.

Humza shot him a warning look but exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "I didn't have a choice," he said, his tone firm yet laced with frustration. "I couldn't just stand there and let her dance with every dangerous man in the room. You know how these people operate. A few sweet words, a little charm, and they'd have her spilling everything without even realizing it. She's naive, Huzaifa. Too trusting."

Huzaifa scoffed, shaking his head again, this time with a smirk tugging at his lips. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, lover boy."

Humza's brows furrowed, his jaw clenching at the insinuation. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice was sharp, defensive.

Huzaifa tilted his head, his smirk widening. "I mean that I don't think your only concern was protecting her from these men." He paused deliberately before adding, "You nearly fractured her foot, Humza. That wasn't just strategy. That was something else entirely."

Humza's gaze darkened, but he refused to take the bait. Instead, he turned away and motioned for a nearby guard. "Guard the top floor," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "The corner-most room. No one goes in or out without my permission." The guard nodded and disappeared up the staircase.

Even as he focused on the task at hand, his mind drifted back to Anaabiya. He had been reckless. He should've come up with another way to get her off that dance floor. Hurting her had never been the plan, but she was stubborn. She never listened. And in the heat of the moment, when he saw that man looking at her like she was a prize to be claimed—he had acted without thinking.

A familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

"So the rumors are true."

Humza turned to see Ahmed approaching, his brother trailing just behind him. The air instantly grew heavy with tension. Humza extended a hand, gripping Ahmed's firmly as they shook, though his expression remained unreadable.

Ahmed let out a low chuckle, but it lacked any real humor. "Come on, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He paused for effect, watching Humza closely before continuing. "You're smitten with your wife."

The words were spoken with amusement, but there was an underlying sharpness to them—a test, a provocation.

Humza's grip tightened slightly before he released Ahmed's hand. His expression remained cold, indifferent. "You should focus less on rumors and more on the deal at hand," he said smoothly.

Ahmed laughed again, but his eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "Oh, I am. But it's fascinating, really. I never thought I'd see you caught up over a woman."

Humza didn't react. He knew what this was—a power play. A way to get under his skin, to see if his attachment to Anaabiya could be used against him.

But Ahmed didn't realize one thing.

Yes, Humza had made a deal—a peace treaty between their gangs to draw out the traitors lurking in the shadows. And yes, for now, Ahmed was an ally. But that didn't mean Humza trusted him.

No, Ahmed was merely a pawn.

Ahad had come asking about Anaabiya later that night, and Humza had thanked him for showing up on such short notice. He had called Ahad for one reason—he needed someone to keep her occupied. Someone to keep her from wandering around where she shouldn't be. Someone who wasn't a threat.

And Ahad wasn't.

Humza was a man who recognized danger the moment he saw it, and Ahad was not a threat. He had observed him long enough to know that his feelings for Anaabiya were purely platonic. There was no possessiveness in the way he spoke about her, no hidden longing in his eyes when he looked at her. Ahad had always been just a friend, and for that reason, Humza didn't mind his presence.

But Uzair—Uzair was an entirely different story.

The mere thought of him made Humza's grip tighten involuntarily. He despised the man. The way Anaabiya had said his name earlier, the way she had corrected him, had been enough to send fire coursing through his veins. And yet, when he had asked her if she loved him, she had hesitated.

She hadn't answered.

His chest clenched painfully at the memory.

What if she truly loved him?

What if she had never stopped? What if, at this very moment, she still longed for him?

The thought alone made his blood run cold.

He had never allowed himself to dwell on such things before, never cared enough to wonder what a woman felt for another man. But Anaabiya—she was different. She mattered.

And if her happiness lay with someone else...

If her heart truly belonged to Uzair...

Would he let her go?

The thought didn't sit well with him. It clawed at his insides, threatening to tear him apart. The idea of seeing her in someone else's arms, of hearing her laugh at another man's words, of watching her lips form a name that wasn't his—it would kill him.

It would drive him mad.

But he knew, deep down, that he would let her go. If that was what she wanted, if it would make her happy, he would not stand in her way. The contract could be damned—he would absolve her of it in a heartbeat.

Because the last thing he wanted was to force her to be his.

But then, why did she react the way she did around him?

He had seen it—the way her body betrayed her, the way she tensed when he was close, the way her breath hitched when he touched her. Even when she looked at him with anger, there was something else in her eyes. Something unspoken.

But she fought it. She fought him.

And Humza... he couldn't take advantage of that.

It had taken every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from kissing her in his office earlier. Every nerve had been screaming at him to just take what he wanted, to press his lips against hers, to drown in the taste of her.

But he had stopped.

Because he didn't want her like that.

Not when she was terrified of him. Not when her eyes held more defiance than desire. Not when there was hatred lurking beneath the surface.

No.

He wanted to see her eyes soften when she looked at him. He wanted to see her lips part, not in anger, but in longing. He wanted her to want him, the way he wanted her.

And if she never could...

If she never would...

His heart ached at the thought.

Then he would let her go.

That night, as the party went on, the guests began to leave one by one. Humza felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had grown tired of playing host, tired of pretending to enjoy meaningless conversations. There was still work to be done, but first—

He needed to check on Anaabiya.

He had meant to give her medicine for the pain, but in the chaos of the night, he had forgotten. Shit. If she was still awake, she would definitely be hurting. He needed to make sure she had taken something before she fell asleep.

Without wasting another second, he made his way up to the first floor.

But the moment he reached the corridor, a sinking feeling settled in his gut.

Something was wrong.

The guard he had stationed outside her room—was gone.

His heartbeat quickened, a slow burn of panic igniting in his chest. His eyes immediately flicked to the door of her room. It was slightly ajar.

No.

He reached for the pistol tucked in his waistband with one hand, his other hand instinctively moving to the spare gun he kept hidden in his sock. Every muscle in his body coiled with tension as he took slow, careful steps forward.

The air smelled wrong.

His grip tightened around the cold metal of his gun as he reached for the door, pushing it open wider.

He didn't know what he would find inside.

But he knew one thing—

Whoever had dared to cross him tonight—whoever had dared to touch what was his—

Would not live to see another day.

Just as Humza was about to push the door to Anaabiya's room open further, a faint creak echoed from behind him. His body went rigid. His instincts, honed over years of surviving in a world where betrayal lurked in every shadow, flared to life.

The sound had come from his room.

No one entered his room uninvited. No one dared to.

His pulse hammered against his ribs, but he forced himself to check Anaabiya's room first. He peeked inside, his grip tightening around the gun in his hand.

She was asleep.

The soft rise and fall of her chest, the peaceful expression on her face—she was completely unaware of the danger that lurked so close. A slight wave of relief passed through him, but it didn't last. Not when the creak from his own room still echoed in his ears.

He stepped back, quietly pulling the door shut behind him. Then, with slow, measured movements, he made his way toward his room, his senses sharp, his fingers flexing around the trigger.

The hallway was silent.

Too silent.

He reached the door and nudged it open with his foot, his other gun ready in his left hand. The room was dark. But it wasn't the darkness that made his stomach coil with unease.

It was the smell.

A pungent, acrid scent filled his nostrils—petroleum.

What the hell?

His nose scrunched as he took a cautious step inside, his heart pounding now, each beat like a ticking bomb. Someone had been here. Someone was still here.

His gaze swept across the room. No one. No sound.

He took another step—

And then it hit him.

A searing, blinding pain shot through his skull as something heavy—a club? A metal rod?—slammed against the back of his head. The force of it sent him staggering forward. His vision blurred instantly, a sharp ringing filling his ears.

Shit—

His fingers loosened involuntarily, his pistol slipping from his grasp, clattering onto the cold floor. His knees buckled, the world spinning violently around him. He tried to fight it, tried to blink through the haze, tried to move—

But his body was betraying him.

His strength was draining, his limbs going numb. Darkness clouded his vision.

Just before he collapsed completely, he caught a glimpse of them.

A man in a tuxedo, standing just beyond the flickering shadows.

A woman beside him, her expression twisted into one of cold calculation.

And then—

Fire.

Bright, wild flames licking up the walls, devouring everything in their path. Smoke curling into the air, suffocating, thick. The heat seared his skin, but it was nothing compared to the agony raging in his skull.

His body hit the ground with a heavy thud.

His consciousness was slipping fast, his mind sinking into the abyss.

Somewhere in the haze, he heard the woman curse under her breath. Heard the heavy thud of the door slamming shut.

His breaths were ragged, shallow. His fingers twitched against the floor, grasping at nothing. He tried to fight the darkness pulling him under, tried to focus—

But only one thought remained.

One name.

"Anaabiya."

It was the last thing he whispered before oblivion took him.

When Humza woke up, the first thing he felt was pain.

A searing, unbearable agony spread across his back and shoulder, the raw burn making every movement excruciating. His head pounded, his vision blurred as he struggled to orient himself. His lungs constricted, every breath coming in shallow gasps as thick smoke filled the air, suffocating and relentless.

The room around him was an inferno.

Flames licked hungrily at the walls, turning expensive furniture into nothing more than charred remains. The once-luxurious space had transformed into a death trap, engulfed in heat so intense that sweat dripped from his face. Somewhere outside, frantic voices shouted in the distance, but they felt far—disconnected from his immediate reality.

He had no time.

With great difficulty, Humza pushed himself up, his body screaming in protest. His tuxedo was already catching fire, the fabric singeing at the edges. Gritting his teeth, he struggled out of it, wincing as the movement aggravated his burns.

His gaze darted to the nightstand beside his bed—miraculously untouched by the flames. A jar of water sat there, an insignificant thing in the grand destruction around him, yet in that moment, it was everything.

With a shaking hand, he reached for it, his fingers trembling as he poured the water down his back. The cool liquid provided temporary relief, but the pain was still there, deep and throbbing. He didn't let himself dwell on it.

He had to move.

The doorway was completely engulfed, flames curling around the wooden frame, reducing it to embers. The air was thick with smoke, suffocating him further. His body ached, exhaustion weighing him down, but he knew stopping wasn't an option.

Drawing in a ragged breath, Humza lifted his foot and kicked at the door.

Nothing.

He tried again, putting all his weight into it.

The weakened wood cracked slightly but didn't break.

Gritting his teeth, he took a step back, summoned every ounce of remaining strength, and slammed his foot into the center of the door with a force that sent it crashing outward.

Sparks scattered, the heat rushing over him in a suffocating wave, but he didn't stop to think. He staggered forward, his balance unsteady as he took in the state of the hallway.

It was worse than he expected.

Fire consumed everything in sight. The rugs, the paintings, the very walls themselves—everything was being reduced to ash. The once-grand mansion was turning into ruins before his eyes.

But none of it mattered.

His mind fixated on one thing—Anaabiya.

She was still in her room. Alone. And injured.

The thought sent a sharp panic through his chest.

What if she—

No. He wouldn't let himself think that. She's alive. She has to be.

Ignoring the pain radiating through his body, Humza forced himself forward. Every breath was labored, his body threatening to collapse under the strain, but he didn't care. His heart pounded with one singular mission—reach her.

As he ascended to her floor, his stomach clenched at the sight of her door. It was still bolted from the outside.

The fire had already reached it, the edges blackened and crumbling. He could feel the heat radiating from it, threatening to devour whatever was inside.

His breath hitched.

She's in there.

His hand instinctively reached for the handle, but the second his skin made contact with the burning metal, a searing pain shot through his palm. He pulled back, hissing, but there was no time for hesitation.

Lifting his foot, he kicked the door with all the force he could muster.

Nothing.

His jaw clenched. He kicked again.

The wood groaned but didn't give way.

A sharp frustration—no, fear—boiled inside him. His muscles screamed in protest, but he refused to back down.

Taking a step back, he braced himself—then drove his foot into the center of the door with a final, desperate strike.

The lock snapped.

With a loud crash, the door splintered, the force sending burning fragments flying.

Humza's frantic gaze swept across the burning room, searching desperately for her. His heart pounded against his ribs, fear clawing at his chest. Then, through the thick smoke and the suffocating heat, he saw her.

Anaabiya lay on the ground, her body drenched in sweat, her face pale, but—alive.

A surge of relief crashed over him like a tidal wave. He barely registered the flames licking at the walls, the collapsing furniture, the suffocating heat. All that mattered was her.

"Anaabiya," he breathed, the sound of her name sending a strange shiver through him, something raw and unexplainable tightening in his chest.

Her weary eyes fluttered open, locking onto him. For a moment, pure, unfiltered relief flashed across her face.

"Humza," she whispered, pain lacing her voice.

He didn't think. He couldn't think. He just ran.

Reaching her in a matter of seconds, he dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the inferno surrounding them. He felt the tremble in her body, the slight hitch in her breath as she clung to him.

"You're okay," he murmured against her temple, his voice firm yet gentle. His thumb brushed away the tears staining her cheeks. "I'm here. Nothing will happen to you. I won't let it."

He cast a frantic glance around the room, searching for something—anything—to protect her from the raging fire. A blanket, a sheet—something. But there was nothing left. The flames had consumed everything.

His jaw clenched. There was no time to waste.

"Come on, we need to get out of here." He attempted to help her stand, but the moment she put weight on her injured leg, she let out a sharp cry of pain, her grip on him tightening.

"Humza, I can't," she gasped, her breathing labored. "It hurts too much. You need to go. Save yourself."

His entire body went rigid. His eyes snapped to hers, burning with a fury that rivaled the fire around them.

"Are you insane?" he growled, his voice rough and laced with anger. "You think I'd ever leave you behind?"

Her lips parted slightly, as if she hadn't expected the sheer intensity of his words. There was something in her gaze—something unreadable, something that made his chest tighten.

"If we die, we die together," he declared, his voice unwavering.

She stared at him as if he had lost his mind, her expression shifting—shock, confusion, something else he couldn't quite place.

He didn't give her a chance to argue. Bending down, he scooped her into his arms, gritting his teeth against the sharp sting of his burns and the pounding in his head. His muscles screamed in protest, his body threatening to collapse under the weight of his injuries.

He staggered. His vision blurred for a second. The heat was unbearable, the lack of oxygen making him lightheaded.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, panic creeping into her voice. Her hands cupped his face, her fingertips gentle against his skin.

The concern in her voice struck something deep inside him, something he wasn't ready to acknowledge.

He forced a smirk, despite the agony coursing through him. "I've had worse."

That was a lie. He had never felt pain like this before. But none of it mattered.

Because she was in his arms. And as long as he was breathing, he would get her out of here.

No matter what it took.

Humza staggered out of Anaabiya's room, his grip on her tightening as he pushed forward, ignoring the fire licking at his heels. His legs felt heavy, his muscles screaming in agony, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His only focus was getting her out.

Each step down the staircase was torture. His body was weakening, his vision blurring at the edges, but he held onto her as if his life depended on it—because in some ways, it did. Without her, he had nothing.

Anaabiya's weight in his arms felt heavier now, though he wasn't sure if it was exhaustion or the fact that his body was failing him. He fought through it, forcing his legs to keep moving. He had no time to dwell on the pain, not when her life was in his hands.

As he finally reached the ground floor, his mind barely registered the eerie stillness around him. The fire hadn't spread as viciously here. It made sense—the flames had started from his room. The walls flickered with an ominous glow, casting long, twisted shadows, but there were no signs of life. The house was eerily silent, the only sounds being the distant crackle of fire and the faint creaking of the structure weakening.

Anaabiya hadn't looked away from him. Her gaze was locked onto his face, her eyes glistening with tears that slipped down her cheeks, unnoticed by her. She wasn't just crying—she was watching him, studying every inch of his face as though trying to memorize it.

Then suddenly, her brow furrowed. Confusion flickered in her eyes.

Her fingers, which had been gripping his neck, trembled as she pulled them away. And then she saw it.

The deep crimson coating her fingertips.

"You're bleeding, Humza," she whispered, but the panic in her voice made it sound more like a scream.

Humza blinked, suddenly aware of the warmth trailing down the side of his face. At that exact moment, the world around him tilted dangerously, and his knees nearly buckled. A sharp, splitting pain tore through his skull, as if someone was slamming a hammer against his head over and over. His grip on Anaabiya loosened for just a second before he caught himself, clenching his jaw.

He couldn't give in to the darkness. Not yet.

The front door was only a few steps away, but every inch of distance felt like a mile. His body screamed at him to collapse, to stop fighting, but he refused. With one final, guttural groan, he forced himself forward, stumbling onto the wide patio.

The cool night air hit him like a wave, but it wasn't refreshing—it only made him realize how close he had been to suffocating inside.

A commotion erupted from the garden. A sea of faces stood frozen, watching in horror as the house burned behind him. And then—

"Humza!"

Bibijaan.

Her voice cut through the chaos like a blade. She was struggling against two of his men, who were holding her back from running into the flames. Her cries were raw, desperate, filled with fear.

"Anaabiya! Humza! Somebody save them!"

The moment the crowd spotted him, everything blurred into chaos. Several people rushed toward him, but Humza barely registered them. His vision was darkening, his limbs turning to lead. But he had done it.

She was safe.

And that was the last thought in his mind as his body finally gave out. He collapsed, his arms still wrapped protectively around Anaabiya as they both hit the ground.

The impact jolted her, but she barely noticed. All she saw was him—his body limp, his breathing ragged.

"Humza," she choked out, her voice trembling as she cupped his face with shaking hands. His skin was too pale, his usual warmth fading. She shook him lightly, panic rising in her chest. "Humza, don't do this to me!"

Nothing.

Tears blurred her vision, slipping down her cheeks. He wasn't waking up. He wasn't waking up.

"Please," she whispered brokenly, her forehead pressing against his. "You can't leave me like this. I need you, Humza. Please... wake up for me."

A faint smile ghosted his lips—so small, she almost thought she imagined it.

But then, his breathing hitched, his body stiffened in pain, and his eyelids fluttered weakly before darkness consumed him entirely.

"No," Anaabiya sobbed. "No, no, no—please!"

Desperation took over as she struggled to move him, shifting his body off her. The moment his back hit the ground, a deep, agonized groan escaped his lips, and she winced at the sound.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried, her hands hovering over his wounds as if she could somehow take his pain away. Her entire body trembled. "Humza, wake up. Please, please wake up. I—" Her voice broke into a choked sob.

A single tear slipped from her lashes, landing on his face.

But Humza didn't move.

And this time, the darkness didn't let him go.

She was safe.

That was all that mattered. If this was his end, he could embrace it without regret—because she was alive. He could surrender to the darkness knowing she was out of harm's way.

And for now, that was enough.

Thankyou to anyone who motivates me and appreciates my writing.

Vote and Comment please ♥

E D I T E D  on 27.2.2025