30| Ten Seconds To Save Yourself

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Humza felt trapped, as if he were buried under a weight he couldn't shake off. The darkness around him was thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides, offering no way out. He tried to move, to escape it, but his body wouldn't obey. Every attempt to run only pulled him deeper into the abyss.

Distant voices echoed around him—muffled, indistinct, as if they belonged to another world. He tried to latch onto them, to make sense of what they were saying, but they slipped through his grasp like smoke.

Then, suddenly, clarity struck. The voices sharpened, became real. The ache in his body surged to the forefront, a brutal reminder that he was still alive. A deep, agonizing exhaustion settled over him, making even the thought of opening his eyes unbearable. His limbs felt like lead, his throat dry and raw. Every breath came with a dull ache, and his back burned as if seared by fire.

Pain. He was drowning in it, and yet—somewhere beyond the haze—he could feel something else. A presence. Warmth.

Humza could hear voices—familiar, yet distant, as if they were coming from the other side of a thick wall. His mind felt heavy, his body weighted down by exhaustion. But there was one voice, soft and delicate, that pulled at him, coaxing him away from the darkness.

"I'm fine, Bibijaan. See? My leg is almost healed," the voice spoke, barely above a whisper. It was muffled, but clear enough for him to recognize.

Anaabiya.

The realization hit him like a jolt, sending a wave of warmth through his otherwise numb body. He forced himself to focus, to hold onto the sound of her voice like a lifeline.

"Please, if you love me, go and rest. I promise I'll sleep as soon as you wake up." He heard her say.

"Fine! But I'll be in the next room. If you need anything, call me." Another voice responded, older and more familiar—Bibijaan. There was a brief pause before he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps and the click of a door shutting.

The room fell silent again.

Humza struggled against the fatigue pulling him down, his eyelids heavy, but he forced them open. The light in the room was sharp, and his vision blurred as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. He winced slightly, his head pounding, but nothing else seemed to matter when his gaze landed on the figure standing in front of him.

Anaabiya.

She was facing away from him, her posture rigid yet tired. There was something in the way her shoulders drooped, something that told him she was struggling.

Humza closed his eyes again, deciding to wait, to see what she would do when she thought he wasn't watching.

Minutes passed, but she remained still. He could hear the soft rhythm of her breath, the occasional sniffle. He heard her take the seat beside him but that was it. Just when he thought she wouldn't say anything, she finally spoke.

"Are you punishing me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and broken. "Because if you are... it's working."

Humza felt a strange tightness in his chest, something unfamiliar and unsettling. Was she crying... for him?

A soft, shaky laugh escaped her lips, but it lacked amusement. "You know what? You're a terrible husband."

His brows twitched, an amused smirk threatening to break free, but he remained still.

"You made me sign a contract, forced me into this marriage..." Her voice wavered. "And now you're lying here like this, making me worry, making me—" She hesitated, sucking in a shaky breath before whispering, "Making me care too much."

The words hit him harder than he expected.

Did she talk to him like this every day while he was unconscious? A sudden thought crossed his mind—damn, this room better have a camera installed.

Before he could fully process her words, he felt something soft and warm press against his skin. His breath hitched.

She traced her fingers over his hand with the gentlest touch, as if afraid she might shatter him or cause him more pain. Then, to his surprise, she lifted it slowly, her hesitation evident, before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of his hand.

A rush of emotions flooded him, pride, happiness, something dangerously close to longing. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

And then, just as he was recovering from that, she leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss against his forehead.

He nearly lost it.

His entire body tensed as an unfamiliar warmth spread through him. His fingers twitched, aching to reach for her, but he held himself back.

Then, just as suddenly, he felt the softest pressure against his lips.

Everything inside him stilled.

His heartbeat pounded violently against his chest, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he couldn't think, couldn't move. Her lips were warm, hesitant, and far too brief for his liking. Just as he was about to react, to reach for her, to claim what she had unknowingly offered, she pulled away.

He almost groaned in frustration.

A peck? That was it? After all the wait?

He felt her shift, heard her footsteps as she took a step back. No. No, she wasn't allowed to leave after that.

He wasn't done with her yet.

Humza's eyelids fluttered briefly before he cracked them open just enough to steal a glimpse of her. Relief washed over him when he saw that she hadn't left. She stood a few feet away, her back rigid, as if she was debating something—or perhaps, she was trying to distance herself from him.

But it was too late for that.

She had already crossed the line, igniting something within him that he could no longer ignore. The way she had touched him so gently, kissed him so hesitantly—it had undone him in ways she couldn't even begin to understand. His body ached, not just from his injuries but from something far more consuming.

She had no idea what she had started. No idea that she had just become the only remedy to a hunger he never knew existed.

Too late, Anaabiya. You've awakened a desire only you can satisfy.

"It's fine... he won't know," she whispered to herself, as if repeating it would somehow make it true. "He won't—"

She muttered the same words over and over like a mantra, her voice barely above a breath, but Humza could hear every word. He lay still, his lips curving into a slow smile as he watched her struggle with her thoughts.

Adorable.

She looked flustered, as if she had committed some unspeakable crime. If only she knew how much he was enjoying this.

He decided to put her out of her misery.

"What if he does?"

His voice, hoarse and edged with amusement, shattered the silence like a crack of thunder.

Anaabiya froze.

Every muscle in her body locked, her breath hitched mid-sentence. For a moment, she stood utterly still, as if her entire existence had paused in that very second. Humza wondered if she even heard him or if she was too lost in her own world to process his words.

He tried sitting up, desperate to see her face properly, to confirm the effect he had on her. But the moment he moved, pain shot through his body, raw and unforgiving, like knives carving through his flesh. His head pounded, his back screamed in protest, but none of it mattered.

He wanted to hold her.

Needed to.

With great effort, he tried again, pushing through the soreness, but this time, she turned.

Her movements were sharp, hurried—like she had just been caught red-handed. In an instant, she was beside him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, stopping him before he could make things worse for himself.

"Stop, you're hurt," she scolded, her voice breathless, her grip firm yet careful. The concern in her tone did something strange to him.

She guided him back down onto the bed with the utmost care, her hands lingering against his skin longer than necessary.

Her touch felt like a balm to his pain.

Like healing.

Like comfort.

His gaze never wavered from her. He watched her intensely, drinking in every detail of her expression—the worry creasing her brows, the softness in her eyes, the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something but decided against it.

She refused to meet his eyes.

"Anaabiya..." His voice came out raspy, laced with exhaustion, but he needed to say her name. He needed her to look at him.

She didn't.

"Shh," she cut him off hurriedly, snatching the glass of water from the nightstand and pressing it toward him. "You need to rest. You shouldn't be talking."

Her hands trembled slightly as she held the glass.

Her fingers were cold against his, betraying her nervousness.

Humza smirked. Now, he was sure—she had heard him. The way she was avoiding his eyes, the way she was fidgeting, the way her cheeks were turning a deeper shade of crimson by the second—it was all too obvious.

He liked this side of her.

Just as much as he liked the fire in her.

He let the silence stretch, watching her squirm under his gaze, before finally breaking it.

"You didn't answer my question."

His smirk deepened, reveling in the effect he had on her.

Anaabiya's face flushed even more, the pink on her cheeks blooming into a deep, rich red. If she had looked like a rose before, now she looked like a cherry—ripe, sweet, and entirely too tempting.

Panic flickered in her eyes.

"I'll go call everyone," she blurted out, pushing up from the chair in a desperate attempt to flee.

But she had no chance.

Before she could take even a single step, his fingers wrapped around her wrist—gentle, yet unyielding.

Firm enough to tell her exactly what he wanted.

She wasn't going anywhere.

"Stay," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

And to his surprise—she obeyed.

"Come here."

Humza's voice was calm, almost polite, but there was an unmistakable hint of mischief laced within it. He was pushing his luck, and he knew it.

Anaabiya, who had been carefully avoiding his gaze, finally looked at him—only to immediately regret it.

She blinked rapidly, her brows knitting together in visible confusion. "What?"

"Lay beside me."

The moment the words left his mouth, her entire body tensed. Her eyes widened, and she gawked at him as though he had just suggested something completely absurd.

"What?" she repeated, her tone higher this time, disbelief dripping from every syllable.

Humza let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as if he was utterly exhausted by her resistance. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"Yes—actually, no! That's not happening," she stammered, stumbling over her words in her haste to reject his request.

"Why not?" His smirk grew even more pronounced. "You had no problem getting close when I was unconscious."

Anaabiya's face went from pale to a deep, burning shade of red within seconds. Her eyes widened in pure horror, and she sucked in a sharp breath as if he'd just accused her of treason.

"I—I did not—!" she spluttered, shaking her head furiously.

"You did," he cut her off smoothly, his voice tinged with amusement. "I felt it, you know. Your lips on mine."

Anaabiya froze.

"I just didn't call you out on it at the time," he continued, his smirk never faltering.

"Ya Allah, just strike me down," she whispered under her breath, looking absolutely mortified.

Humza chuckled, watching her squirm under his gaze. This was too much fun.

"If you were awake, why didn't you say something earlier?" she asked, suddenly defensive, narrowing her eyes at him.

Humza grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. "And miss my chance to be Sleeping Beauty? No way."

"Sleeping Beauty?" Anaabiya repeated blankly, as if she was having a hard time believing what she was hearing.

"Yeah, you know, the one who wakes up with a kiss," he said casually, his voice laced with pure mischief.

Her entire face burned.

She felt as though she was seconds away from combusting.

"Come on, I let you have your fun," Humza continued, his tone almost innocent, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement. "Now it's only fair you return the favor."

He knew he was being stubborn.

But if only she knew just how badly he wanted to feel her warmth beside him.

"Favour?!" Anaabiya sputtered, her voice rising, her wide eyes locked onto him in disbelief.

Humza leaned back slightly, watching her reaction with a smug expression. "You kissed me when I was asleep," he pointed out, his tone laced with amusement. "I think it's only fair you let me—"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" she cut him off, her mortification spilling over.

He let out a low chuckle, thoroughly enjoying her suffering. There was something about the way she stumbled over her words, the way her cheeks flamed, that made teasing her utterly irresistible. "Fine, fine. I won't ask for another kiss. Yet." His dark eyes flickered with mischief as he patted the empty space beside him. "Just lay down. I won't bite."

Anaabiya hesitated, torn between her instinct to flee and the quiet pull of something unspoken between them. Humza, however, had no patience for the battle waging inside her. He had nearly lost her that night. The memory of it was still raw in his chest, like an ache he couldn't shake. He didn't care if she was hesitant, didn't care if she fought against it—he needed her close.

His expression turned serious as he shifted slightly, trying to push himself up. "If you don't," he started, his voice edged with determination, "I'll just get up myself—"

The moment he made a move, her eyes widened in panic. "Okay, okay! I'll do it!" she blurted out, her hands flying to his chest to stop him from moving.

He felt the warmth of her palms on his chest, and something in him settled. But only for a second.

She let out a deep sigh of defeat before carefully climbing onto the bed, her movements cautious, as if she was afraid even the slightest contact between them would set something off. She positioned herself at a safe distance, ensuring not a single part of their bodies touched.

Humza's lips twitched.

Not happening, woman.

The moment Humza's arm wrapped around Anaabiya's waist and pulled her flush against him, a deep warmth spread through his chest. It was a warmth that had nothing to do with the duvet covering him or the lingering fever in his body—it was her. It was the feel of her, soft and real, right there in his arms. It was the knowledge that she was here, safe, after everything that had happened.

Her body was stiff, tense with hesitation, but he didn't care. He had spent too long aching for this closeness, yearning for something he had been too stubborn to admit he needed.

His heart pounded steadily, drowning out the distant sounds of the night. The scent of her—something light and sweet, like vanilla and jasmine—filled his lungs, and he swore he could get drunk on it. His fingers flexed slightly against her waist, reveling in the contrast between the smooth fabric of her dress and the warmth of her skin beneath it.

She fit so perfectly against him that it almost hurt.

"Humza," she whispered, her voice weak as she squirmed against his hold, trying to create distance between them. But he simply smirked, letting his chin rest lightly atop her head.

"Relax, woman," he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with something softer, something real. "I nearly died, and you're acting like I asked you to sign over your soul."

She huffed against his chest. "You're insufferable."

Humza chuckled, enjoying the way her voice vibrated against him. "And yet, you still kissed me."

A groan of pure mortification escaped her as she buried her face into his chest, her warm breath fanning over his bare skin. His smirk faltered slightly at the sensation, and a slow heat coiled in his stomach.

"I hate you," she mumbled against him.

"Mmm." His fingers moved absentmindedly, tracing slow, deliberate circles along her waist, feeling the slight tremor in her body as he did. "Could've fooled me."

He wanted to freeze this moment in time, to imprint it into his memory so deeply that nothing—not time, not distance, not even his own stupidity—could ever take it away. He had almost lost her. He had almost lost this. And now, holding her like this, he realized how much of a fool he had been to ever think he could let go of her.

Her love. Her trials. Her laugh. Her sadness. Her anger. Her flaws.

He wanted all of it.

Humza lowered his lips near her ear, his voice dropping into something low and teasing.

"You can kiss me when I'm unconscious, but the moment I'm awake, you keep your distance? Don't you think that's a little unfair?"

Anaabiya's body tensed immediately, and her face turned crimson as she buried it deeper into his chest, as if she could somehow disappear.

He smirked..

"Why do you always do that?" he mused, his tone softer now, laced with curiosity.

And then, as if his body had just realized exactly how close she was, something dark and electric surged through him. The warmth that had settled in his chest spread lower, coiling tightly in his stomach, traveling further down.

He was aroused.

He cursed inwardly, trying to will his body to calm down, but she wasn't making it easy. Not when her breath ghosted against his skin. Not when her scent wrapped around him like a drug. Not when her small, delicate hands were pressed against his chest, as if she was trying to keep a safe distance between them.

Safe.

Too bad for her—he had never felt more dangerous.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she mumbled, her voice muffled against him.

Humza's breath hitched slightly. His grip on her waist tightened. He wanted her closer. Needed her closer.

His fingers traced slow, languid circles against her skin again, and he felt her shiver against him.

A slow, wicked smile curled his lips.

"Should I show you exactly what I mean?" he murmured, his voice rich with amusement—and something else, something darker, something completely possessive.

She had no idea what she was doing to him.

All he wanted was to kiss her, to taste her, to drown in her.

And this time—he wouldn't let her run.

Anaabiya's voice was brisk, clipped. "No."

Humza arched a brow at her tone, his lips curving into a knowing smirk. He tilted his head slightly, studying her like one would a petulant child. "So, you're saying you remember it now?" His voice was low, almost playful, deliberately coaxing.

Her response was different this time. Soft. Quiet. "Yes."

Her voice held a reluctant submission, sweet and hesitant, like she was afraid of her own admission. Still, she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she slid her arms between them, attempting to put whatever distance she could manage.

Humza frowned. He didn't like it one bit.

His fingers moved of their own accord, reaching for the hijab that covered her hair. He wanted to feel it—the softness of it, the way it would brush against his skin, the way it belonged against his chest.

She didn't stop him.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

His heart pounded as he slowly unwrapped the fabric, letting her hair spill free. The strands were silky between his fingers, slipping through them like the finest thread. He was entranced, his fascination with it irrational but undeniable.

His hand found her chin, tilting it up so that she had no choice but to face him. Even now, she resisted, keeping her gaze lowered.

"Look at me." His voice was a quiet command.

She still didn't comply.

His grip softened, his fingers brushing lightly over her skin. This time, he tried again, gentler. "Anaabiya."

At the sound of her name, her eyes snapped to his.

The moment their gazes locked, his breath caught in his throat.

She looked exhausted. Dark circles lined the delicate skin beneath her eyes, evidence of restless nights and troubled thoughts. All because of him.

A strange warmth spread through his chest, something equal parts guilt and possessive affection.

He smiled at her, slow and deliberate. "I want to kiss you."

She stiffened instantly.

Humza felt the way her body went rigid beneath his touch, the way her breath hitched as if the very idea shook her to her core. But she didn't pull away.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin in a slow, tender caress. The moment his fingers made contact, her eyes fluttered shut, as if savoring the touch.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

Soft. Full. Tempting.

His pulse thundered in his ears as he leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips brushed against hers—hesitant at first, testing, tasting. Unlike the last time, this kiss wasn't rushed, wasn't desperate. It was slow, deliberate.

She still tasted like strawberries.

Humza's entire body shuddered with pleasure when she—slowly, hesitantly—began to respond.

A low sound rumbled from his chest, his fingers tangling deeper into her hair as he pulled her impossibly closer. The sensation of her lips moving against his was intoxicating, like a drug he had no hope of resisting.

He traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, teasing, coaxing, silently pleading for more. When she didn't grant him entry immediately, he nipped at her lower lip—a light, teasing bite.

A shaky breath escaped her.

And then, she opened for him.

Humza didn't waste a second.

His tongue slipped past her lips, tasting, exploring, consuming. He deepened the kiss, molding his mouth against hers, savoring the way she melted into him.

And then, something happened that sent a jolt through his entire body.

Her hands, which had been resting between them moments ago, slowly moved up. He felt the feather-light touch of her fingers against his jaw before they slid to his cheeks, holding him there.

She was kissing him back.

Not just responding—but kissing him back.

His heart nearly stopped.

A grin curled against her lips, and he pressed in harder, testing her, challenging her. To his absolute delight, she met him stroke for stroke, matching his hunger, his urgency.

Heat coiled in his stomach as he lost himself in her, his hands gripping her waist, his body pressing against hers.

She was his.

She had always been his.

And now, she was finally admitting it.

Their kiss deepened, their mouths molding together with a fervor that sent heat coursing through Humza's veins. Their tongues tangled in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, tasting, teasing, devouring. She moaned softly against his lips, the sound sending a bolt of pure need straight to his core. It was sinful, the way her breath hitched, the way her body trembled beneath him.

His restraint was slipping.

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted, moving over her, pressing her into the mattress. She didn't protest. Instead, her fingers skimmed over his cheek, tracing slow, deliberate patterns that made his skin burn. The other hand roamed lower, her touch featherlight against his abs, sending a shiver up his spine.

God, this woman will be the death of me.

She was a living, breathing temptation—one he had no defense against. His mind felt clouded, intoxicated, as if he had drowned himself in something far stronger than alcohol. The way she kissed him—like she was pouring her very soul into it—made him feel both invincible and utterly undone. He wanted to lose himself in her, to claim her, to leave his mark on every inch of her skin.

But the depletion of oxygen weighed on him, their erratic breaths mingling between desperate kisses. His mind screamed at him to pull away, to let them breathe, but his heart refused.

He wanted more.

Yet, when the burning in his lungs became unbearable, he forced himself to break the kiss, pulling away just enough to inhale deeply. Their foreheads rested against each other, both of them gasping, their breaths warm and uneven.

But even now, it wasn't enough.

He leaned in, pressing another soft kiss against her lips, then another—brief, teasing, like he was reluctant to part from them. His mouth moved lower, tracing the sharp curve of her jaw, before trailing down to the delicate skin of her neck.

He felt her shudder.

The moment his lips grazed the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, she turned her head, offering him more. He smirked against her skin before pressing an open-mouthed kiss there, sucking gently, tasting her.

A soft moan escaped her lips.

That sound.

It was pure bliss—melodic, intoxicating, more addicting than anything he had ever known. He kissed her again, slower this time, his tongue flicking against her skin before he sucked lightly, savoring her response. Her fingers tightened against his bare skin, her breath hitching, her body arching into him as if she needed this just as much as he did.

She was his undoing.

And he never wanted to be put back together again.

Humza's hand moved beneath her top, his fingertips grazing the warmth of her bare skin as he slowly traced upward, seeking, claiming. But just as he reached what he wanted, she froze.

Her reaction was instant.

She grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand away with a sharp intake of breath. The soft whimpers and moans that had fueled his desire vanished, replaced by stunned silence.

Her wide eyes locked onto his, disbelief flickering across her face as though she had just woken from a trance. The way she stared at him—like he was suddenly a stranger—sent a sharp pang of frustration through his chest.

And then she began to struggle beneath him.

Wrong move, idiot. He mentally scolded himself, but his body was far from apologetic. The feel of her skin, the warmth, the softness—it had ignited something primal in him.

His jaw clenched as he forced himself to remain still, his own restraint warring with the undeniable need coursing through his veins. There was no doubt that she could feel just how much he wanted her. His arousal pressed against her, undeniable, but he didn't shy away from it.

He wanted her to know.

He wanted her to understand just how deep his desire ran.

But most of all, he wanted her to want him back.

"Stop struggling, or I'll kiss you again," Humza warned, his voice low and filled with a teasing edge.

Anaabiya stilled immediately. Her breath hitched, and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his. He smirked. Good girl.

But now that the heat of the moment had settled, the pain in his body returned in full force. A deep, aching soreness spread through him, draining what little energy he had left. His muscles protested, and exhaustion clawed at him, but he wasn't about to let it show.

Before either of them could react further, the door to the room flew open with a loud bang.

Huzaifa stood at the entrance, disheveled and breathless, his eyes darting toward them—only to widen comically the moment he took in the scene before him. A whirlwind of emotions flickered across his face—shock, relief, then pure, unfiltered panic.

"Oh, nope! I didn't see anything! Nope, nothing at all!" he blurted out, turning on his heel so fast he nearly tripped. "Ya Allah, I swear, I didn't see a thing! I promise I didn't!"

Anaabiya let out a mortified squeak and immediately buried her face in Humza's chest. He chuckled, utterly unbothered, running his fingers through her hair in amusement.

Perfect timing, brother.

Huzaifa groaned dramatically. "Seriously, man?! You're supposed to be resting, not—" he gestured wildly in their direction, "—doing... this!"

Humza simply reached for her hijab, which had slipped to the side, and carefully adjusted it, ensuring her hair was properly covered.

Anaabiya peeked up at him, her wide eyes filled with astonishment—like she couldn't believe he'd just done that. He merely gave her a reassuring smile before turning back to his brother.

Huzaifa, still facing the wall, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Anyway, it's good to have you back, man. You scared the hell out of us." He hesitated, then added, "I'll just... leave now. Call me when you're done."

Without so much as a glance back, he hurried out, leaving them in stunned silence.

Humza chuckled, shaking his head. "Dramatic idiot."

As soon as Huzaifa left, Anaabiya resumed her struggle beneath him. "I... I need to go," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Humza smirked, clearly enjoying her nervousness. "Not before you give me another kiss."

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, she just stared at him, something unreadable flickering in her dark eyes.

"You have ten seconds to save yourself," he announced, closing his eyes as he began counting down. "Ten... nine..."

"Humza, please," she pleaded softly.

He shook his head lazily. "Eight... seven... six... five..."

Just as he reached four, he felt the softest brush of her lips against his. It was fleeting—just a whisper of a kiss—but it was enough to send a rush of satisfaction coursing through him. A slow, victorious grin spread across his face as he finally lifted himself off her.

Anaabiya wasted no time. She scrambled to her feet, adjusting her hijab and smoothing out her clothes in a frantic attempt to regain her composure. Without sparing him a single glance, she rushed toward the door.

Humza chuckled to himself as he watched her go, his heart still racing.

A moment later, his private moment was cut short when the door swung open again, and Bibijaan entered, flanked by a few others—including Huzaifa.

The elderly woman strode to his bedside without hesitation, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She cupped his face before pressing a loving kiss to his forehead.

"Ya Allah, I can't thank You enough!" she whispered fervently, her voice thick with emotion. Tears of joy slipped down her wrinkled cheeks as she reached into Huzaifa's hand, took some money, and began circling it around Humza's face in a traditional gesture of protection and gratitude.

"How are you feeling now, dear?" she asked, her concern evident.

Before Humza could answer, Huzaifa smirked and cut in, "Oh, he's doing way better than expected. Much better." His tone dripped with amusement, making Humza glare at him.

His gaze instinctively flickered toward the door, searching.

But Anaabiya was nowhere to be seen.

A sudden, inexplicable frustration clenched at his chest. Was she going to ignore him now? Act like nothing had happened? His jaw tightened at the thought.

Not happening, Anaabiya. Not a chance.

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E D I T E D  on 28.2.2025