39| It Felt Like Dying

IT   F E L T   L I K E   D Y I N G

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I am going home on sunday! Yaayyy!! Will be able to write more in sha Allah

Also double update today.♥️

Humza pressed the phone against his ear as Amir's tense voice crackled through the speaker.

"Sir... We've got a problem. You need to come to the basement. Now."

His jaw tightened. Amir was one of his best men—calm, collected, and never one to panic. If he sounded this urgent, then something was seriously wrong.

"I'll be there," Humza replied curtly before ending the call. A heavy sense of unease settled over him. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before turning his gaze toward the bed.

Anaabiya lay fast asleep, completely unaware of the storm brewing around them. Her long lashes rested against her cheeks, and the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the black duvet held an almost hypnotic rhythm. Half-covered by the blanket, her delicate frame was barely visible, but the sight of her alone was enough to stir something deep inside him.

A sudden, reckless urge to slip under the covers, to pull her into his arms and let the world fade away, tightened his chest. But he knew better.

Clenching his fists, he tore his gaze away and forced himself to move. There were more pressing matters at hand, and distractions—especially ones that made his heart falter—were a luxury he couldn't afford.

Humza leaned forward, intending to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, but instead, his lips met the cold surface of the laptop screen that separated them. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth in frustration.

It had been the same for the past week—every time he reached out, something always came in between. The more he was denied the simple act of touching her, the more his irritation multiplied.

Now that he knew the truth—knew that she loved him—keeping his distance felt unbearable. Every fiber of his being ached to respond, to shatter the walls he had built and claim what was already his. But he couldn't.

Fate was playing a cruel game with him, dangling her so close, letting him hear her whispered confessions, watch the love in her eyes, but denying him the right to reciprocate. He wanted to—God, he wanted to. He wanted to kiss the very ground she walked on, to cherish her, to treat her like the queen she deserved to be.

But he couldn't.

All he could do was sit there, watching her through a screen, trapped by the very walls he had built himself.

Humza pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, his agitation simmering beneath the surface. He needed an outlet for his vexation. Without a second thought, he strode out of the room, the late hour hardly a concern. The dimly lit hallway stretched before him, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the night.

A few of his men stood along the corridor, their heads bowing in respect as he passed. He acknowledged them with a curt nod—his way of maintaining the balance between authority and camaraderie. They were like family to him, and he treated them as such, but respect was something he never compromised on.

As he advanced further into the darkness, the grand spiral staircase came into view, its winding descent leading to the basement. A familiar tension coiled in his muscles as he neared the heavy iron cell door. Amir was already there, leaning against the wall. His foot tapped against the cold floor in a restless rhythm, his posture slouched in unspoken defeat. His head was bowed, lost in thought, oblivious to Humza's presence.

Humza cleared his throat, breaking the silence. Amir's head snapped up instantly, his body stiffening as he straightened, his earlier distraction vanishing in an instant.

"It's bad," Amir muttered, nodding toward the gray metal bars.

Humza didn't hesitate. He stepped inside, Amir's heavy footsteps following closely behind him. His pace was unrelenting as he stomped into the dimly lit cell, his gaze immediately falling on Zauq's battered form. The man was strapped to a chair in the center of the room, his body covered in bruises and blood. A single light bulb hung directly above him, casting harsh shadows that only amplified the gruesome scene.

Three of Humza's most trusted men stood around Zauq, their hands stained with his blood. He didn't need to ask if they had followed his orders—one look at their faces told him everything he needed to know. Huzaifa was absent, but that was expected. Humza had assigned him a different task—guarding his house. With Humza away, someone had to be there in case of any unforeseen threats. And there was no one he trusted more with that responsibility, especially when that house held the one thing he valued above all else—Anaabiya.

It had been two days since Humza's men had captured Zauq at a bar. He had been drunk at the time, making it easy for them to take advantage of his intoxicated state. Now, bound and bloodied, he remained as stubborn as ever, refusing to utter a single word.

But the moment Humza stepped into the cell, the defiance in Zauq's eyes wavered, replaced by something far more satisfying—terror. Humza smirked darkly, reveling in the sight. Fear was a language he understood well, one he had mastered over the years. As he moved closer, Zauq's already bruised and pale face twisted in pain. He thrashed in the chair, his restraints digging into his skin as he struggled in vain.

"He still won't talk," Amir muttered from behind him, his frustration evident.

Humza didn't turn around. His gaze remained locked on Zauq, watching every tremor, every flinch. "That's fine," he murmured, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "He will now."

A slow, sadistic smile curled at the corner of his lips as he watched Zauq recoil, his body shrinking into the chair. Satisfaction coursed through Humza like a dark thrill. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

"Chair."

Humza's sharp command echoed through the dimly lit cell. One of his men scrambled away and returned within seconds, dragging a chair across the cold floor. Without hesitation, he placed it directly in front of Zauq. Humza sank into it, leaning forward, his dark eyes never leaving his captive.

"Let's begin," he murmured, his voice deceptively calm. It was a move that always unsettled people—lowering himself to their level, meeting them eye to eye. It stripped them of any illusion of control.

With a slight nod from Humza, Amir stepped forward, circling around him before stopping behind Zauq. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of Zauq's hair and yanked his head back viciously. A strangled groan ripped from Zauq's throat, his body jerking in protest. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable, even as he squeezed them shut, bracing himself for what was coming.

"You've already betrayed me twice," Humza said, his tone eerily composed. "And I'm running out of patience. So either you start talking, or you take your last breath in this room."

The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating in their finality.

Zauq's breathing turned ragged, his chest rising and falling with each panicked gasp. For a fleeting second, sheer terror flashed across his bruised face—but then, he forced himself to bury it. His jaw clenched. His lips parted, but only to exhale a shaky breath.

"I—I don't know anything," he rasped, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

A tense silence followed.

Humza tilted his head, observing him with a quiet, predatory amusement.

"Lying won't save you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zauq kept his eyes shut, his fingers curling into fists. His body was betraying him, trembling despite his best efforts to mask his fear.

Humza exhaled slowly, a smile—cold and merciless—tugging at his lips.

"Let's see how long you can keep that up."

Rage coursed through Humza's veins, a slow-burning fire that threatened to consume him. Betrayal was not something he took lightly.

"You don't know?" Amir's voice dripped with mockery, his amusement barely concealed.

"No," Zauq muttered, his eyes still clenched shut, as if refusing to acknowledge the reality before him would make it disappear.

Humza exhaled sharply, his lips curling into a smile that held no warmth. He raised his hand slightly, and one of his men hurried to place a cutter in his waiting palm. Turning it over between his fingers, he let the metal catch the dim light, the glint sharp and menacing.

"You see this?" His voice was eerily calm, almost conversational.

Zauq's eyes fluttered open, and the moment he registered the blade in Humza's grasp, his entire body went rigid. His breath hitched, his trembling impossible to conceal. Yet, despite the fear twisting his features, he said nothing.

Humza's gaze flicked toward Amir, a silent command passing between them. Without hesitation, Amir stepped forward, taking the cutter from his hand.

"Let's make this interesting," Humza murmured, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he settled in to watch.

The first cut was deep. Zauq's scream tore through the air, raw and unrestrained. It bounced off the cold walls of the small cell, echoing into the vast emptiness of the basement. The scent of blood thickened, metallic and suffocating, as it dripped onto the floor, pooling beneath the chair.

Humza remained still, expression unreadable, as he watched the scene unfold. He had no sympathy to offer, no remorse clouding his judgment.

Then, just as Zauq's body began to slump, dangerously close to losing consciousness, Humza lifted a hand. A simple gesture.

Amir stopped instantly, stepping back as silence settled once more, broken only by Zauq's ragged, shuddering breaths.

Humza leaned forward, his dark eyes burning with unrelenting intensity.

"Who helped you escape?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.

Zauq swallowed hard, his breaths ragged and uneven. "I—I don't know their names," he stammered, his voice hoarse from screaming. "But I could identify them if you showed me a picture. There were two of them—a man and a woman." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "They told me there was no point in staying because... because you and your wife were going to die that day."

Humza's jaw clenched, his fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. The very mention of Anaabiya in danger sent a violent rage coursing through him. The urge to end Zauq's miserable existence right then and there was overwhelming, but he forced himself to hold back. Not yet. Not until the traitor was dragged into the light.

He had seen them too—that man and woman lurking in the shadows that night. Zauq wasn't lying.

Humza straightened, his expression deadly as he turned to his men. "Treat his wounds. Then get me every photograph from that party," he ordered, his voice low and menacing. "I want that fucking traitor under my foot."

Turning back to Zauq, he grabbed his bruised face in a crushing grip, his fingers digging mercilessly into his chin until the skin turned an angry shade of red. Zauq let out a strangled whimper, his swollen eyes barely able to meet Humza's murderous gaze.

"And if you're lying," Humza murmured, his voice dripping with cold, calculated malice, "I'll start with your family. I'll make you watch as I tear them apart, one by one, until you beg me to end it. And when I finally kill you, it will be the only mercy you'll ever get."

With a sharp shove, he released Zauq's face, sending his head snapping to the side. Without another glance, Humza turned on his heel and strode out of the cell, his fury a storm barely contained.

Humza's men needed to understand—needed to witness firsthand—the extent of his brutality. Betrayal came at a cost, and he would make sure they never forgot it. This wasn't just punishment; it was a lesson. A warning.

He was a monster. A demon. And he deserved nothing.

Back in his cabin, he dropped into his chair, his mind restless with fury. He replayed every detail, every possible lead, yet nothing clicked. No matter how hard he tried to piece it together, the identities of the two traitors remained a mystery. Frustration clawed at him, and with a heavy sigh, he powered on his MacBook.

His fingers moved on instinct, maximizing the tab that remained permanently pinned to his desktop.

The live feed of Anaabiya's room flickered onto the screen.

His breath hitched.

She wasn't in her bed.

Panic gripped him instantly as his eyes darted across the screen. The time in the corner read 3:30 AM, and yet, she was nowhere in sight. His pulse pounded violently as he scanned the room, searching for any sign of her.

Without wasting another second, he grabbed his phone and dialed Huzaifa.

The call rang five times before Huzaifa finally picked up, his voice groggy with sleep. "Ya Rab, what is it now? Do you have any idea what time it—"

"Where the fuck are you?" Humza cut him off, his voice sharp with urgency.

Huzaifa groaned, still half-asleep. "Easy, man. I can hear you just fine."

Humza wasn't in the mood for patience. "Cut the shit. Where is Anaabiya?"

There was a pause before Huzaifa muttered, clearly annoyed, "How the hell should I know? I'm in my room. She's in hers. She must be sleeping—"

"She's not in her bed, you idiot," Humza snapped. "Get the fuck up and check on her. Now."

Huzaifa sighed, still sluggish. "Alright, alright. Don't lose your mind. I'm going, just give me a—"

"Wait," Humza interrupted suddenly, his eyes locking onto the screen. His tense grip on the phone loosened as relief washed over him.

There she was.

Anaabiya had just returned to her bedroom, a prayer mat in her hands, a scarf wrapped loosely around her head.

His heart, which had been hammering violently against his ribs, finally began to settle.

"Forget it," he muttered into the phone. "I see her now. She was probably in the washroom doing ablution."

Huzaifa exhaled, his voice tinged with concern. "You sure? Want me to check anyway?"

Humza closed his eyes for a brief second, allowing the last traces of panic to drain from his system. "No. She's fine."

"You do realize you sound like a borderline psycho stalker, right?" Huzaifa chuckled, amusement laced in his tone.

Humza barely heard him. His focus was solely on the woman before his eyes. Anaabiya knelt in prayer, lost in her Tahajjud, her presence illuminated by the dim glow of the night. Whatever Huzaifa said didn't matter.

Because this was all Humza was allowed—to watch from a distance.

"Hello? Are you even listening?" Huzaifa's voice broke through the silence again.

"Yes..." Humza murmured absently before his mind scrambled for something else to say. "Zauq... He said he could recognize the traitor if I showed him a picture."

He barely registered his own words. His mind was elsewhere. This had become his routine—his obsession. He rarely slept anymore. Instead, he spent his nights watching her, whether she slept peacefully or cried herself into exhaustion. He had memorized every small movement, every fragile sigh. And when exhaustion finally won over him, it was never for more than half an hour, always with her image burned into his mind.

"I wasn't even asking about Zauq," Huzaifa muttered, the sound of him chewing something in the background. "Anyway, what are we doing with him once he gives us the name?"

"Kill him," Humza replied flatly. It was the only logical answer.

Huzaifa exhaled, clearly expecting that response. "We should hold off. Our goal isn't just to expose the traitor—we need information on Ahmed too."

Humza stiffened slightly at the name. Ahmed had always been good to him. The thought of him being involved in any of this felt... wrong. Uncertain. Yet he knew Ahmed was a dangerous man and Humza couldn't risk taking chances.

"I'll think about it," Humza muttered, already losing patience. "Bye."

Without waiting for a reply, he disconnected the call and tossed his phone aside. Huzaifa was distracting him. Right now, he didn't care about Zauq, the traitor, or even Ahmed.

His attention was entirely on Anaabiya.

Why did she believe in Allah so much?

He had taken away her family.

He had given her him—the man who had become the source of her misery.

And yet, she still prayed. She still put her faith in the very One who had let her world shatter.

Humza leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening as he continued watching her. He couldn't understand it. He probably never would.

Humza couldn't understand the purpose behind it.

He watched as Anaabiya cried, lifting her hands in prayer, her face etched with silent pleas. He didn't want to know what she was asking for. Maybe—just maybe—she was asking for him.

But she didn't realize that God never granted what people wanted. Instead, He took it away.

A bitter smile ghosted his lips as he thought about his decision to bring Anaabiya's sister back. He wouldn't deny it—he had done it to please her, to carve his name into a corner of her heart. He wanted to be someone good in her eyes.

But that wasn't how it started.

At first, it had been purely selfish. He didn't want her to go back to her aunt's house, where she could have crossed paths with Uzair. The mere thought of that man near Anaabiya filled him with unfiltered rage. He despised him. And as for her aunt—her empty threats had meant nothing to him. He had dismissed her as a foolish, insignificant woman. At least, that's what he had believed at the time.

Now, none of it mattered.

He was dying. Slowly.

Days had passed, yet the weight of betrayal still crushed him. The woman he had once called his mother—the only one he had trusted—had shattered him in a way he never thought possible. Just when he had begun to feel alive again, she had ensured that he was buried in the darkness once more.

Humza stepped into the guest room, his gaze immediately landing on his mother. "What is it, Mother?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Rafiya turned around abruptly, her face pale and damp with sweat. There was a nervous tremble in her stance, something deeply unsettling about the way she clutched her hands together.

"Humza, I need to tell you something." Her voice was unsteady, almost hesitant.

He strode toward her without a second thought, lowering himself to his knees before her as she sat on the edge of the bed. No matter what had happened between them—no matter how much time and distance had strained their bond—he still loved her.

His brows furrowed. "What is it? Is everything alright, Ammi? Did someone hurt you?"

The moment the word Ammi left his lips, she stiffened. Her eyes widened, shock flashing across her face. He knew why. It had been years since he had last called her that. But lately, he had been thinking. He had been happy, something he hadn't been in a long time. And happiness had made him want to fix the broken things in his life.

He wanted to mend this relationship.

For himself.

For her.

For Anaabiya.

A lone tear escaped Rafiya's eye, but she quickly wiped it away. Her lips trembled before she finally whispered, "You love her, don't you?"

He knew exactly who she was referring to.

A faint blush crept up his neck, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he took her hands in his own, lifting them gently to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

"Yes, Ammi. I do," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. A rare, almost boyish smile tugged at his lips. "And I want to thank you."

A fresh wave of tears spilled from her eyes, but this time, she didn't wipe them away. She simply stared at him as if she were memorizing every detail of his face.

"You were right," he continued, his voice filled with something raw and unguarded. "Marrying her... it was the best decision of my life. When you first blackmailed me into it, I hated her. I hated everything about her. But now..." He exhaled, shaking his head as a small chuckle left his lips, filled with disbelief. "Now, I can't stop loving her."

His grip on her hands tightened as emotion filled his chest. "She has caged my heart, Ammi. I've never felt like this before. I feel..." He paused, searching for the right word, before finally whispering, "happy."

But his mother didn't respond.

She just cried. Incessantly.

A sudden wave of unease crept into Humza's chest, his smile faltering as anxiety twisted inside him.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Humza's brows knitted together in concern as he watched his mother break down, covering her face with trembling hands. "What's wrong, Ammi? Why are you crying?" His voice was laced with unease. "Aren't you happy for me?"

But she only sobbed harder.

Her body shook as she struggled to speak, her words barely escaping between her cries. "I'm sorry, Humza. I'm so sorry. I ruined everything for you."

His frown deepened. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, his tone growing more urgent.

Rafiya slowly lowered her hands, her face streaked with tears. She hesitated for a long moment before finally speaking, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You remember the night of the accident, don't you? The night that changed everything?"

Humza's entire body tensed. He didn't want to remember. But he did. How could he ever forget?

"That night... four people died," she continued, searching his eyes as if trying to gauge his reaction. "Your father... the couple in the other car... and the man standing outside in the street."

A sharp, piercing silence followed her words.

Humza flinched, his mind unwillingly dragging him back to that night—the chaos, the blood, the sirens. He swallowed hard but nodded stiffly, urging her to go on.

Something about the way she looked at him sent a chill down his spine.

Rafiya's voice was heavy with sorrow as she spoke. "Do you remember that the man who died in the street had two daughters? After his death, they were taken in by their paternal aunts, and we've been sending them a lump sum amount every month for their care."

Humza nodded impatiently, his frustration mounting. "Yes, Ammi, I know that. Can we stop now? I already know everything." His fingers curled into fists as he exhaled sharply. "I know that since Malika was the only survivor of the accident besides me, and she had no family, we took her in. I get it. What are you trying to say?"

His mother didn't flinch at his tone. If anything, her sadness only deepened.

"That's not true, Humza." Her voice trembled, but her gaze held his firmly. "You were told that the only survivor besides you was Malika... but that was a lie. Malika wasn't even there that night."

Humza's entire body went rigid.

His brows furrowed as confusion clouded his mind. "What?"

Nothing made sense. Not a single word.

Humza's breath hitched, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the truth. "Then who was in the car?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "The girl who survived... the one I pulled out that night... who was she?"

His head throbbed violently, the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he stared at his mother, waiting—begging—for her answer.

Rafiya sucked in a sharp breath before finally speaking, her voice trembling.

"Anaabiya."

The name crashed into him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a suffocating abyss.

"The girl who survived was Anaabiya, Humza." Her voice wavered with emotion, but the words were clear. "You saved her that day."

Humza felt his world shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces.

He staggered back as if burned, as if her words had set his entire being on fire. No. No, this couldn't be real.

His gaze locked onto his mother, his body stiff with disbelief. "Did you know?" His voice was sharp, edged with something dangerous.

She flinched but didn't answer.

That silence was enough.

"Say it!" he roared, his fury shaking the walls.

His mother's shoulders trembled as fresh tears cascaded down her face. "Yes," she whispered. "I found out a month before your marriage. I went to check on the girls myself... and when I saw Anaabiya, I knew."

Humza's entire body tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. His mother sobbed, but he stood frozen—cold, unfeeling, his mind spiraling into darkness.

"I chose her for you, Humza." Her voice cracked. "I thought she could pull you out of the darkness. She was so full of light... I believed she would illuminate your world."

But Humza felt nothing.

No light. No warmth.

Only rage.

His body shook violently, his veins burning with the force of it. The truth wasn't just painful—it was devastating.

Humza's voice shook with fury as he took a step forward, his entire body trembling. "How could you do this? How could you be so selfish?" His eyes burned with rage, disbelief, and something far worse—self-loathing.

His mother sobbed harder, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.

"How could you possibly think she would bring light into my life when I am the very reason for her misery?" His voice cracked, raw with anguish. "Her nightmares, her agony—everything she suffers from is because of me!"

His mother shook her head desperately, tears streaming down her face. "It wasn't your fault, Humza! You didn't do it on purpose."

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him.

"That doesn't change the fact that I killed her parents," he spat. "There's no excuse. No justification."

The weight of his own words crushed him, suffocating him with guilt so deep it felt like he was drowning. His rage boiled over, and before he could stop himself, he turned and kicked the side table with all his strength.

It crashed to the ground, the sound echoing through the room like a violent reminder of his destruction.

Humza's chest rose and fell erratically, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "I killed her parents." The words felt heavier each time they left his mouth, suffocating him. "She's going to hate me. She's going to leave me."

Panic clawed at his insides, and before he knew it, his hands were reaching for whatever was in sight—books, vases, anything—hurling them to the floor in a desperate frenzy.

"She can't hate me, she just can't!" His voice cracked as he ran a trembling hand through his hair, his mind spiraling into chaos.

His mother rushed to him, gripping his arms in a futile attempt to still him. "No, Humza, stop this!" Her voice was laced with desperation. "She won't hate you."

But he couldn't hear her. He could only hear the pounding of his own heart, the deafening thought of losing Anaabiya consuming him whole.

"She will." His voice dropped to a broken whisper. "She can't find out. I can't let her leave me." His hands clutched his mother's, his grip tight with desperation. "Promise me. Please don't tell her." His voice wavered, a plea from a man who had never begged for anything in his life.

Tears streamed down his mother's face as she cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. "Humza, you need to stop this."

His breathing was ragged, his entire body trembling. Then, without warning, the tears he had been holding back finally fell.

The mere thought of Anaabiya walking away from him was unbearable.

It felt like dying—over and over again—an agony that knew no end.

Like a blade, relentlessly piercing his heart, leaving him bleeding with no escape.

Humza's mind raced, but no matter how much he tried to make sense of it all, he kept arriving at the same bitter conclusion—Allah must have hated him. There was no other explanation for why fate kept tearing him apart, piece by piece.

His gaze snapped back to his mother, his voice low and strained. "Why are you telling me this now?"

She hesitated, gulping nervously before taking a step back. "I found out about Nabiha," she admitted, her hands trembling. "I went to her aunt's house before coming here. I wanted to put an end to her greed—to threaten her, stop sending money, even file a case against her if I had to."

She sucked in a sharp breath, her face darkening. "But that woman... she's a witch, Humza. She turned the tables on me. She said if I dared to take any action, she would tell Anaabiya everything."

Humza's stomach twisted painfully, but his mother wasn't finished.

"She said she would make Anaabiya divorce you. She demanded more money, and I had no choice but to give it to her." Her voice cracked with urgency. "I had to tell you before you did something reckless. I don't want you to lose Anaabiya."

His body went rigid. A state of frenzy took over him, his mind unable to keep up with the storm brewing inside him. His mother's words echoed in his ears, but he barely processed them. His face drained of color as he spiraled further into the abyss of his own torment.

He had lost Anaabiya before he even had her.

The realization shattered something deep within him. Without thinking, he reached for the gun tucked into his waistband, the cold metal firm in his grip.

His mother's eyes widened in horror. "Humza—"

"I can't live without her." His voice was void of emotion, eerily calm. "I can't watch her leave."

In one swift motion, he pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead.

His mother let out a strangled cry before lunging at him, her hands gripping his wrist with all the strength she had. In a desperate, frantic move, she tore the gun from his grasp and hurled it across the room.

"Stop it, Humza!" she screamed, her voice laced with panic.

But Humza didn't move. He just stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly, drowning in a pain so excruciating it felt like his very soul was being torn apart.

Humza's chest heaved as rage consumed him. His hands curled into fists, his entire body trembling with barely contained fury. "What the hell do you want? You ruined my life, Mother. Let me die now." His voice was sharp, venomous, filled with an agony too deep to contain.

His hand lashed out, grabbing a small vase from the side table. Without a second thought, he hurled it across the room, watching as it shattered against the wall, pieces scattering across the floor like the fragments of his own broken soul.

"I am sorry, Humza. I am so sorry." His mother reached for him, her hands gripping his arms desperately, but he wrenched away from her touch.

His eyes burned with unfiltered rage as he glared at her. "You knew it all along, Mother." His voice was serrated and sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. With a violent kick, he sent the glass table crashing to the floor. The sound of splintering glass echoed through the room.

His mother flinched, taking several shaky steps back, her hands covering her ears as if trying to block out the storm that raged within him. "Humza, please listen to me. This can be fixed. Just trust me." Her voice was pleading, desperate.

Humza let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "No," he spat, his voice raw with betrayal. "Congratulations, Mother. You're the first woman in the world to destroy her own son." His laughter faded, leaving behind only an empty hollowness in his tone. "You took away the only chance I had at happiness."

E D I T E D  on 7.3.2025