32| I Can't Sleep

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Humza snapped his fingers right in front of her face, jolting her out of her thoughts.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, eyeing her curiously.

"Nothing," Anaabiya muttered quickly. "Now, will you please move? I think you're about to break my hand."

He released her wrist immediately, and she took the opportunity to smack his chest—not that it did much damage. Unfortunately, he was still pressed up against her, his warmth practically seeping into her skin.

She was at least grateful he was wearing a loose shirt this time. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by his toned muscles again. They made her heart flutter in ways she refused to acknowledge.

"Now, about my three demands—" Humza started, a smirk already forming on his lips.

Anaabiya cut him off before he could get any ideas. "Three demands? What three demands?" she asked innocently, blinking up at him.

Humza's eyes darkened as he narrowed them at her. "Don't you dare play dumb with me," he warned, his voice laced with mock irritation.

Anaabiya, however, merely smiled sweetly—because infuriating him was just too much fun.

Anaabiya tore her gaze away, pretending to be utterly clueless. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said nonchalantly, her eyes darting around the room in search of an escape—one where she could flee without him getting hurt in the process.

Humza's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "So you don't remember," he stated, his voice dangerously calm.

"Nope," she replied, keeping her tone as indifferent as possible.

His jaw clenched, frustration flashing in his eyes. "Then, I guess I have to remind you." His smirk was nothing short of wicked before he suddenly dipped his head, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

Anaabiya tensed instantly, a sharp inhale escaping her lips as the all-too-familiar tingles spread down her spine. Her hands shot up to push him away, but his warmth, his scent, his touch—it all made her mind feel hazy.

"Okay! Stop doing that," she finally groaned, her voice edged with both irritation and something she refused to name. "I do remember it."

Humza pulled back slightly, his face hovering dangerously close to hers, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "I'll stop," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "For now."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver straight through her, and she hated that he noticed.

"But you cheated," she accused again, as if that would somehow shift the conversation away from the way her heart was racing.

"Think whatever you want," he shrugged, completely unfazed. "I just want my three wishes."

Anaabiya crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. "And what exactly are these so-called wishes?"

Humza smirked, leaning in just enough to make her pulse stutter. "For now?" His voice softened, and his eyes locked onto hers. "Sleep with me on the bed."

Anaabiya's own eyes widened at his words. "Excuse me?" she practically choked out.

He raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed by her reaction. "You heard me, love."

"Not happening," Anaabiya stated firmly, shaking her head as if that would somehow erase the very thought of it from existence. There was no way she was sleeping next to him. Not after everything. Just the mere idea of it sent goosebumps trailing across her skin, a stark reminder of what happened every time he was too close—every time he was beside her, on top of her, holding her captive beneath his weight.

Humza, however, seemed completely unfazed by her defiance. In fact, he looked positively amused.

"Then I guess I'll just sleep like this," he mused, making himself even more comfortable atop her. "You're quite the cozy pillow, you know." His lips curled into that infuriatingly smug smile that somehow made him look even more handsome—unfairly so.

Anaabiya clenched her jaw, glaring at him. Smug idiot.

"Fine," she huffed, knowing she had no choice but to give in. "But you won't touch me."

Humza groaned, rolling his eyes as if she had just taken away his favorite pastime. "You take all the fun out of things," he muttered before exhaling dramatically. "Fine. Just sleep, woman. I'm exhausted."

"Then move," she shot back, wiggling beneath him in a desperate attempt to escape.

With a heavy sigh, he finally pushed himself up and off her, shifting his weight away. But the moment he did, a small wince crossed his face, his nose scrunching in discomfort.

Anaabiya immediately noticed. "Does it hurt?" she asked, her tone softening slightly.

"Just a little," he admitted, brushing it off like it was nothing. But before she could process it, he suddenly grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward, causing her to stumble slightly as he guided her towards the bed.

"Humza—" she started, but it was pointless. He was already making sure she settled on the left side while he sprawled himself comfortably on the right.

Just as she was about to sigh in relief, thinking he was finally going to behave, he reached for the hem of his shirt and—

Oh, for the love of—!

Her eyes went wide as he peeled the fabric off effortlessly, tossing it aside like it was nothing.

"Seriously?" she blurted, immediately looking anywhere but at him.

He smirked lazily, completely at ease. "What? I sleep better like this."

Anaabiya squeezed her eyes shut, muttering under her breath. This is torture. This is actual torture.

"I don't like sleeping with my shirt on," Humza stated matter-of-factly, as if he were explaining some universal truth.

Anaabiya didn't even bother looking at him. She was too busy staring at the ceiling, praying for patience. Why me?

She just wanted to sleep—nothing more, nothing less.

With a sigh, she grabbed her pillow and shoved it right in the middle of the bed, creating a clear boundary between them. The second she did, she caught him watching her with a bemused expression.

"I don't trust you," she said flatly, narrowing her eyes at him as if daring him to argue.

Humza raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "You don't trust me?" He shook his head with a chuckle before lazily stretching out, muscles flexing ever so slightly. "Suit yourself, but you're going to wake up with a stiff neck. Just rest your head in my arms."

She scoffed. "In your dreams."

Without another word, she turned her back to him, facing the other side of the bed where she wouldn't have to look at his stupidly handsome face.

A dramatic sigh came from his side of the bed, but she ignored it, shutting her eyes and willing herself into sleep.

Thankfully, exhaustion soon won the battle, and she drifted off into deep slumber—blissfully unaware of the small, lopsided smirk still lingering on Humza's lips as he watched her sleep.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, its golden rays landing directly on Anaabiya's face. She groaned, shifting slightly to escape the intrusive light, but something felt... off.

Her limbs felt impossibly heavy, as if she were trapped. A deep frown creased her forehead as she tried to turn, only to realize she couldn't.

A soft moan of frustration left her lips as she was left with no choice but to open her eyes. Blinking a few times to clear the haze of sleep, she tried to take in her surroundings—only to freeze entirely.

What the—

Her breath hitched.

Humza's body was tangled with hers in the most compromising way possible. And worse? She was just as guilty.

Heat crawled up her face, mortification settling in. Her hand—oh God—was resting on his bare back, and she could feel the warmth of his skin against her palm. Since when did I start using him as a pillow?

She immediately snatched her hand away, her fingers tingling from the contact. Her gaze flitted to his face, expecting to find his usual smirk, but instead, he looked... peaceful. Innocent, even. A tiny bit of drool glistened at the corner of his lips, and despite herself, she bit back a smile. Adorable.

But then she made the mistake of shifting slightly, and reality really hit her.

Their legs were completely intertwined. His head was nestled comfortably against her shoulder. One of his arms was underneath her head, holding her close, while the other—

She nearly choked on air.

His other hand was inside her top, his palm resting firmly against the bare skin of her stomach.

Anaabiya stiffened instantly. Please tell me it didn't move all night. Please tell me it didn't move all night.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, each frantic beat echoing in her ears. Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the bed for the pillow she had so carefully placed between them last night.

It was nowhere near them.

Instead, it was lying uselessly on his other side, as if it had been tossed away in the middle of the night—probably by the same man currently holding her captive in his unconscious grip.

Anaabiya swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth seeping from Humza's palm into her bare skin. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, screaming at her to do something, but the moment she moved even an inch, his grip only tightened.

"Humza, move your hand," she whispered, careful to keep her voice soft. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up and get a full dose of her morning breath.

A low groan rumbled from his chest, but instead of complying, he pulled her closer, his hand pressing more firmly against her stomach. A strange, tingling sensation spread through her, sending an involuntary shiver up her spine.

She heard him make a weird clattering sound with his teeth—almost like he was shivering.

Her brows furrowed. What on earth...?

Then it clicked.

She'd heard that same sound before—when Nabiha used to grind her teeth in her sleep as a child.

Anaabiya bit her lip, resisting the urge to laugh. Humza is such a baby.

If she wasn't currently trapped in his arms, she would have found his weird sleeping habits amusing.

"Humza, please move," she tried again, this time nudging him lightly with her elbow.

Another groan.

But this time, one of his eyes cracked open, meeting hers groggily.

For a few long seconds, he simply stared, blinking slowly as if trying to process why she was so close. His sleep-fogged brain clearly hadn't caught up yet.

And then—

Realization slammed into him like a truck.

His eyes widened. His body stiffened. And in one swift motion, he all but jerked away from her, scrambling back to his side of the bed as if he had just touched fire.

Anaabiya wasted no time sitting up, adjusting her clothes that had—like her—been left completely disoriented.

The silence that followed was heavy, neither of them quite sure what to say.

Finally, Humza raked a hand through his hair, still looking a little dazed.

Anaabiya expected some kind of reaction from Humza—maybe a teasing remark, a smug smirk, something. But when she finally gathered the courage to look at him, she found his face disturbingly blank. No amusement. No irritation. Just a straight, unreadable expression.

It was unsettling.

His gaze was distant, his jaw tight, and he wasn't saying a word. It almost seemed as if he was lost in deep thought, wrestling with something in his mind.

A strange weight settled in her chest, making her uncomfortable.

Without another word, she quickly averted her gaze, scanning the room for her hijab. She spotted it on the floor, a crumpled heap near the edge of the bed. Bending down, she picked it up and dusted it off, feeling the silence grow heavier between them.

She turned her back to him, gathering her disheveled hair and tying it behind her head. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the fabric of her hijab, securing it properly.

When she finally turned around again, Humza was still staring at her.

But this time, his gaze held something else—something she couldn't quite decipher.

It wasn't anger.

It wasn't frustration.

But whatever it was, it made her heartbeat stutter.

And he still wasn't saying anything.

That was enough to set off alarms in her head. She needed to get out of there—fast—before her already chaotic mind made up a hundred different scenarios and drowned her in confusion.

Without sparing him another glance, Anaabiya spun on her heels and rushed out of the room, feeling his eyes boring into her back as she left.

She didn't stop until she reached Bibijaan's room, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

To her relief, only Maliha was inside.

She didn't exchange any words with her, nor did she slow her steps. Instead, she made a beeline for the washroom, locking the door behind her.

Only then did she allow herself to exhale.

Leaning against the cool tiles, she shut her eyes tightly.

What is wrong with me?

The lingering warmth of his touch, the way his arms had held her so securely—it was all replaying in her mind like a never-ending loop. She shook her head, willing the thoughts away, before stepping under the shower.

The cold water hit her skin, snapping her back to reality.

She needed to calm down.

She needed clarity.

When she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out, feeling slightly more composed. She performed her namaz, letting her forehead touch the prayer mat, and let out a deep breath.

"Ya Allah, guide me."

Her heart was in turmoil, torn between the undeniable feelings creeping in and the walls she had built around it for so long.

She wouldn't lie to herself—something was changing.

But she was afraid.

Afraid of hoping.

Afraid of trusting.

Afraid that Humza—the man who was nothing like the one she had once imagined for herself—might be the one to shatter her completely.

By the time Anaabiya had finished her namaz, the door creaked open, and Bibijaan strolled in with her usual warm presence.

"You're up," she noted with a gentle smile.

Anaabiya turned toward her, returning the gesture. "Yes. Assalam o alaikum, Bibijaan. How are you feeling today?" She folded the prayer mat neatly and placed it beside Maliha, who was still fast asleep.

"Walaikum assalam, my dear. Alhamdulillah, I'm doing well," Bibijaan reassured her as she eased into a seat. Then, with a thoughtful expression, she added, "I wanted to let you know that Humza's mother won't be arriving today. She had prior commitments, so she'll be coming tomorrow instead. The renovations are still incomplete."

Anaabiya nodded, taking in the news, though a flicker of confusion lingered in her mind. She knew Humza loved his mother, and she loved him too—yet there was a quiet distance between them, one she couldn't quite grasp.

Bibijaan continued, her voice gentle. "We'll be moving back to the old mansion today—his father's other house." She watched Anaabiya carefully, gauging her reaction.

Anaabiya's eyes widened briefly in surprise, but she quickly masked it. Moving again wasn't the problem—it was the feeling of stepping into something unfamiliar, something that carried a weight she couldn't quite name.

Still, she nodded. "Alright, I'll start packing."

Bibijaan patted her arm affectionately. "No rush. There's still time."

A few hours later, they were on the road, the journey stretching out in tense silence. The house they were heading to was on the outskirts of the city, far removed from Ahmed's place. Two cars made up their small convoy—Huzaifa was driving the one Anaabiya was in, with Humza seated in the front beside him. The other car trailed behind, carrying Bibijaan and a few of Humza's men.

From the moment they got into the car, Humza hadn't looked at her once. Not a single glance. It was as if she had suddenly become invisible to him, and the shift in his demeanor unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Just hours ago, he had been his usual teasing, maddening self—now, he was closed off, brooding in a way that made her stomach twist with unease.

Anaabiya stared out the window, trying to focus on the passing scenery instead of the growing agitation bubbling inside her. What had she done wrong? Why was he suddenly ignoring her? The silence felt suffocating, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.

After nearly two hours, they finally arrived at their destination. The house was nothing short of grand—if anything, it resembled more of a historical estate than a modern mansion. It stood tall and imposing, its structure older than the previous house but somehow even more regal. Right next to it was an actual palace, its intricate design and towering presence making this place seem like something out of a different era.

The massive iron gates creaked open as the guards welcomed them, bowing their heads in respect as Huzaifa maneuvered the car into the driveway. More of Humza's men were already stationed inside, standing in disciplined lines as they greeted their leader.

But Humza? He still didn't spare her a glance.

Anaabiya watched him carefully, searching for any hint of warmth in his features, but there was none. The playful, infuriatingly smug Humza she had come to know over the past few days had vanished. In his place stood someone colder, more distant—someone who looked as though he had locked himself away in a place she couldn't reach.

Had she only imagined everything? The teasing, the stolen glances, the way he had held her like she was something precious?

A strange heaviness settled in her chest as she stepped out of the car, her gaze flickering to the man who had suddenly become a stranger to her.

As they stepped inside, the grand interior of the house unfolded before them in all its extravagant glory. The place was massive, almost resembling a seven-star hotel rather than a private residence. The foyer alone was breathtaking—adorned with rich, deep-red walls that gave the space a warm yet regal aura. The L-shaped sofa was positioned elegantly near a sleek recliner, both of which were surrounded by luxurious décor. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their golden glow casting a soft light across the polished marble floors. Every corner of the mansion spoke of wealth and power, designed to impress and intimidate at the same time.

But Anaabiya had little time to admire the surroundings—because, of course, Malika was already there.

Her mood soured instantly at the sight of the woman standing with her usual air of confidence, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and smug amusement. Anaabiya could practically hear her own groan of frustration in her head. She should've expected this.

Malika wasted no time making her presence known, walking straight up to Humza with a sweet smile that Anaabiya knew was anything but innocent. She extended her hand, and for a moment, Anaabiya braced herself, expecting her to throw her arms around him as she always did. But thankfully, Malika seemed to show some restraint this time—though that didn't make Anaabiya feel any less irritated.

Humza took Malika's hand in a firm shake, his expression unreadable. He still hadn't looked at Anaabiya, hadn't even acknowledged her presence since they arrived. And that only fueled the frustration burning inside her.

What was she even thinking? That he would change? That he would suddenly stop being the man who thrived on attention from women like Malika? She shook her head, feeling both foolish and annoyed at herself.

Malika, meanwhile, turned her attention towards Anaabiya, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. There was something wicked in her gaze, a silent challenge that sent a shiver of irritation down Anaabiya's spine.

What was she up to now?

Her fists clenched at her sides, but before she could say anything, Humza casually made his way to one of the grand sofas and settled himself comfortably. And, as if on cue, a handful of his admirers—Malika included—gathered around him like moths drawn to a flame. They fussed over him, asking about his injuries in honeyed tones, practically fawning over him like he was royalty.

Anaabiya stood stiffly beside Maliha, her eyes narrowing as she watched the ridiculous scene unfold.

Maliha, standing with her arms crossed, leaned closer and muttered under her breath, "I swear, if murder wasn't illegal, we'd be planning Malika's funeral right now."

Anaabiya almost smirked at that. Almost. Because right now, all she could do was glare at the man who had spent the last few days driving her insane—only to turn around and act like she didn't even exist.

The room fell into a tense silence as Malika's voice rang out.

"So, what exactly happened that night?" she asked, her sharp gaze fixed on Humza.

For a brief moment, Humza hesitated. Anaabiya noticed the slight pause, the way his jaw tensed as if he were weighing his words carefully. She thought—hoped—that he wouldn't answer, that he'd brush it off. But then, his voice cut through the air, steady and controlled.

"Someone did it on purpose," he stated coldly, his fingers curling into fists. "Someone hit me from behind with a club. And whoever it was, they were also responsible for the fire."

Gasps echoed across the room. Anaabiya's breath hitched as icy fear coiled around her spine. Someone had deliberately attacked him? Someone had locked him in that burning room, intending for him to never make it out alive? The thought alone sent a chill down her bones.

"They?" Huzaifa's brows furrowed as he pressed further.

Humza nodded, his expression darkening. "Yes. There were two of them. A man and a woman. They planned it. They waited for the right moment and then locked me inside, fully intending for me to be dead by now." His voice was lethal, his fury barely contained.

Huzaifa exchanged glances with a few others before stating the obvious. "But everyone was at the party. Nobody was upstairs. The only people on that floor were you..." He paused before turning his gaze toward Anaabiya. "And Anaabiya."

The tension in the room thickened, each word adding to the suffocating weight pressing down on them.

"I had stationed a guard to watch the floor that night," Humza stated, his voice low but firm. "But when I went upstairs, he was nowhere to be found. That's when I knew something wasn't right."

Huzaifa's expression darkened as he shared new information. "That's because he never made it up there," he revealed grimly. "His body was discovered in the basement during the renovations."

Anaabiya's heart pounded violently. What was he implying? Before she could process the suspicion now creeping into the conversation, Malika took the opportunity to pounce, her lips curling into a wicked smirk.

"Well," she drawled, her voice laced with mock innocence. "That leaves only one explanation, doesn't it?"

Anaabiya stiffened, sensing the venom behind her words even before they were spoken.

"Maybe she was the one who did it." Malika shrugged, feigning nonchalance before adding the final blow. "With her lover boy."

A suffocating silence followed.

Anaabiya felt the burn of every gaze snapping toward her, their eyes filled with either doubt, shock, or silent curiosity. Everyone was waiting for her reaction, waiting to see how she would respond to the accusation.

Except Humza.

He remained still. Silent.

That only made the boiling rage inside her erupt.

"You're accusing me?" Anaabiya seethed, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Of trying to kill him?"

Malika folded her arms, the glint in her eyes triumphant. "Well, you were the only one upstairs with him," she said coyly, tilting her head in mock thoughtfulness.

Anaabiya's fists clenched. "I was locked in my own room!" she shot back. "I was injured! You can ask Humza!"

She turned toward him, waiting for him to say something—anything—in her defense.

But he didn't.

He just sat there, his face unreadable, his silence cutting deeper than any accusation ever could.

Malika's lips curled into a wicked smirk as she continued her assault. "Well, that explains everything, doesn't it? You've always been a good actress, haven't you?" Her voice was dripping with false amusement as she scanned the room, watching the subtle shifts in expression. Some of them—fools—were actually considering her words.

"Your lover boy must have locked you in before running away, making sure no one could suspect you. It's a clever trick, really." She crossed her arms, tilting her head as if she had just solved the mystery of the century.

Anaabiya felt the impact of her accusation like a physical blow. It was absurd—why would she lock herself in just to be burned alive? The logic was nonexistent, yet no one seemed to challenge Malika.

A sharp pain twisted inside her chest, unlike anything she had ever felt before. Humza.

Her gaze shifted to him, desperately searching for something—anything—that would prove her wrong. A shake of his head. A word of defense. A single sign that he didn't believe Malika's venomous lies.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

A suffocating, heavy silence that shattered whatever fragile hope had been clinging to her heart.

Malika's voice faded into the background as the realization settled in. Maliha was right. He would never say a word against Malika. No matter what she did, no matter what she said—Humza would never stand up for Anaabiya against her.

Her breath hitched as hot tears welled in her eyes, one slipping down her cheek before she could stop it. And then another.

Humza's lack of reaction cut deeper than Malika's words ever could.

Did he believe her too?

Anaabiya never wanted to cry in front of anyone, never wanted to show weakness, but today, she had no choice. She was being forced to break.

Her vision blurred as she stared at the people around her, the weight of their judging gazes pressing down on her like a punishment she hadn't earned. Even Maliha hesitated, uncertain.

No one spoke for her. No one defended her.

Ya Allah, she pleaded silently, the cry echoing within the walls of her wounded heart. Aren't You watching me?

"There you go again," Malika sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Such a good actress. Why don't you just run off with your lover boy and stop whoring around?"

The venom in her words was like a slap across the face, but before Anaabiya could even react, something else happened—something no one in the room had expected.

In the blink of an eye, Humza moved.

One second, he was sitting still, silent in his own thoughts. The next, his hand was wrapped around Malika's throat, his grip tight, unrelenting.

A collective gasp filled the room.

Anaabiya's own breath hitched as she watched him, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. His eyes—those dark, intense eyes—were burning with something terrifyingly raw, something she had never seen in him before.

"Don't," he warned, his voice eerily low, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around Malika's fragile neck. His jaw was clenched, his entire body radiating barely contained fury. "Don't you dare forget who you are. And don't you ever fucking accuse my wife again—" his voice dropped even lower, deadly in its intensity "—or I swear, I will smother you into nothing."

Silence.

The entire room was frozen.

Anaabiya could barely believe what she had just heard. Had he just—had he just taken her side? Had he actually defended her?

Malika's hands clawed at his wrist, her nails digging into his skin as she gasped for air. But Humza didn't budge. He didn't even flinch. His grip remained firm, his rage unyielding.

Tears welled in Malika's eyes, streaming down her face as she struggled in vain. She was terrified—rightfully so.

Huzaifa, alarmed by the scene unfolding before him, quickly stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Humza's shoulder. "Humza, let her go," he urged, his voice tense but controlled. "You're choking her."

But Humza didn't loosen his grip.

Instead, his fingers pressed just a little harder, making Malika sputter in panic.

Anaabiya felt a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, shock, and an unexpected pang of sympathy. She knew exactly how it felt to be on the receiving end of Humza's wrath. She had been in this position not too long ago, and despite everything Malika had said, despite the pain she had caused, Anaabiya didn't want to see her suffer like this.

He's going to kill her.

Her pulse raced as she gathered the courage to speak.

"Humza."

It was barely a whisper, but he heard it.

Immediately, his gaze snapped to hers.

Anaabiya sucked in a breath. The moment their eyes met, she saw it—the storm raging within him, the battle between his fury and something else, something softer.

She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. Let her go, her silent plea begged.

For a long, tense moment, Humza just stared at her.

Then, as if something within him had snapped back into place, he exhaled sharply and released his grip.

Malika stumbled back, coughing violently as she clutched her throat, her body shaking. The air in the room was thick with tension, no one daring to speak.

Anaabiya wiped the lingering tears from her eyes, silently thanking Allah.

For the first time, Humza had stood up for her.

And for the first time, Malika had lost.

Without sparing Malika another glance, Humza turned sharply on his heel and strode toward Anaabiya, his grip tightening around her wrist before she could even react. His face remained an unreadable mask, devoid of any emotions, as he tugged her along with him. His steps were firm, unwavering, as if he had already decided exactly what he was going to do.

Anaabiya stumbled slightly, struggling to keep up with his long strides. She wanted to say something—to ask where he was taking her, to thank him even—but the words lodged in her throat. The tension rolling off of him was palpable, and she wasn't sure if he was still angry or just lost in thought.

They ascended a grand spiral staircase, the polished marble steps cool beneath her feet. The golden railings gleamed under the chandelier's soft glow, casting intricate patterns along the walls. The atmosphere felt eerily similar to Ahmed's house, yet there was something colder about it—something distant.

After weaving through a dimly lit corridor, Humza finally stopped in front of an ornate wooden door. Without a word, he pushed it open, revealing a lavish room inside. But before Anaabiya could step in willingly, he gave her a firm shove, making her stumble forward.

And then—slam.

The door shut behind her with a loud thud.

Anaabiya blinked in shock.

What on earth was wrong with him?

She turned around, reaching for the door handle, but when she twisted it, the knob wouldn't budge. Locked. From the outside.

Her brows furrowed, frustration clawing at her insides. He had just dragged her all the way here only to lock her in? His unpredictability was getting on her nerves. One second, he was defending her with an intensity that had shaken everyone in the room, and the next, he was shoving her away like she was an inconvenience.

With a defeated sigh, she leaned her forehead against the door, inhaling deeply before finally giving up. She wasn't getting out of here anytime soon.

Turning around, she let her gaze sweep across the room, taking in her surroundings properly for the first time.

It was breathtaking.

The room was far more extravagant than her previous one, almost like something out of a fairytale. The sheer elegance of it made her momentarily forget her anger.

A massive bed sat at the center, its wooden posts intricately carved with delicate roses, each corner adorned with solid brass ball finials. The mattress looked plush, inviting, and when she sank onto it, her suspicions were confirmed—it was the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on.

It was worlds apart from the sagging mattress she had back home, the one with coil springs that poked at her back, making it impossible to sleep peacefully some nights.

The curtains, long and layered, draped elegantly down to the floor, made of soft satin and lace. A Persian carpet stretched across the room, its texture so velvety under her feet that she wanted to curl her toes into it.

Her eyes lit up when she noticed the open archway leading to a walk-in closet.

A walk-in closet.

She squealed in delight, the sound slipping out before she could stop herself.

For a brief moment, she felt like a princess.

Ironically, she was far from being one.

Time slipped by faster than Anaabiya had anticipated. Malika had visited her twice—once in the afternoon and again in the evening. She had even apologized for not speaking up earlier, guilt evident in her voice. Anaabiya had forgiven her without hesitation; after all, it wasn't entirely her fault. She had been caught in the storm just like everyone else.

Despite the opportunity to step out, Anaabiya had chosen to remain in her room the entire day. Something about the walls of this space felt oddly comforting, as if they shielded her from the chaos outside. Even her meals had been brought to her, leaving her with little reason to leave.

But as night fell, sleep refused to come. No matter how many times she tossed and turned, rest eluded her.

And worst of all—she missed Humza beside her.

The realization startled her.

What on earth was wrong with her?

Frustration gnawed at her mind as she lay there, replaying the events of the day, trying to make sense of everything. Her life had taken a complete 360-degree turn, and she was struggling to catch up.

Just as she was lost in thought, a sudden knock echoed through the silent room.

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes flickered to the bedside clock—2:00 AM.

Who could it be at this hour?

A shiver ran down her spine, but she quickly shook off the fear. Allah is my protector, she reminded herself.

Another knock.

This time, she hesitated only for a second before pushing the covers off and stepping onto the floor. With cautious steps, she approached the door, her fingers trembling slightly as she unbolted it.

As soon as she pulled it open, she froze.

Humza stood before her, a pillow tucked under his arm. His tousled hair, slightly messy from what seemed like failed attempts at sleep, only added to his effortless charm. Even at this ungodly hour, he looked unfairly handsome.

"I can't sleep," he admitted, his voice thick with exhaustion.

Anaabiya blinked, momentarily caught off guard. And what am I supposed to do about that?

"So?" she asked, masking the way her pulse quickened at the sight of him.

Humza exhaled as if debating his next words before finally saying, "I want to sleep here. With you."

Anaabiya's breath hitched.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, as the weight of his words settled between them.

Phew! A long one.

Your guesses? Who is the traitor?

E D I T E D on 2.3.2025