40| His Greatest Curse

H I S G R E A T E S T C U R S E

W O R D  C O U N T: 5045

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Kindly recheck the previous chapter incase you directly opened this one. It was a double update.

A lone tear slipped down Humza's face, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold emptiness settling in his chest. He blinked, forcing himself back to reality, away from the memories that had been haunting him relentlessly. His gaze shifted toward the window, where the sky had already darkened, the sun long gone, swallowed by the night. Time had slipped through his fingers without him noticing. He hadn't slept, not even for a moment. Sleep had abandoned him ever since the day he learned the truth—the day everything changed.

Since that moment, he had made a choice—one that felt like a slow death. He distanced himself from Anaabiya, withdrawing into himself, building walls so high that even he couldn't see past them. It was the only way. The only way to protect her from the monster that had unknowingly destroyed her life. But fate had its own cruel sense of humor, mocking him at every turn.

The moment she had confessed her love for him, he had felt his world tilt. He had wanted to laugh, wanted to scream. How well had his Rab mocked him? The woman he had stolen everything from, the woman whose nightmares were born from his sins—she had fallen in love with him. She had given him something he did not deserve.

He could neither let her go nor allow himself to sink further into the depths of his love for her. The pull was too strong, too consuming. He was caught in an impossible torment—torn between the desperate need to keep her close and the unbearable guilt that demanded he push her away.

But the worst part was that he couldn't even pretend to hate her. He had tried, forcing himself to stay cold, to remain distant, but it was all in vain. No matter how much he tried, his heart betrayed him every single time. He loved her. He had always loved her. And that love was his greatest curse.

Humza was tending to yet another one of his unfortunate victims when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the dimly lit basement. Huzaifa sprinted in, his expression tense as he leaned in and whispered urgently, "Anaabiya is here."

Humza's hands froze mid-action. His jaw clenched, and his grip on the medical kit tightened. His gaze snapped to Huzaifa, filled with restrained fury. Was he out of his mind? Bringing her here was reckless—dangerous.

Abandoning the man in front of him without a second thought, he stood up abruptly and strode toward the staircase, his movements swift and agitated. "Where is she?" His voice was sharp, his pulse hammering against his skin.

"In your cabin," Huzaifa answered, following close behind.

Humza came to an abrupt stop, turning slightly as his eyes darkened with frustration. "Do you even realize what you've done?" His voice was low but menacing. "I didn't want her anywhere near this place." His restraint was already slipping day by day, and her mere presence was enough to shatter whatever control he had left.

Huzaifa exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "I had no choice. She insisted, and I couldn't keep her away any longer."

Humza inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. He could already feel his resolve crumbling. Even as anger boiled beneath his skin, there was something else—something deeper, more dangerous. He wanted to see her.

"Stay here. I'll handle it," he muttered before taking the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding harder with every step. He told himself he was going up there to send her back, to make sure she never set foot in this world again. But the truth?

A part of him was grateful. A part of him wanted nothing more than to see her.

Humza inhaled sharply, steadying himself before twisting the doorknob and stepping into his cabin. The moment his eyes landed on her, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs.

Anaabiya stood in front of his desk, her gaze fixed on the laptop screen. She had seen it.

Panic surged through him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was sharp as he strode toward her, fury laced in every step. She jolted back in fear, and something inside him twisted painfully. She was scared of him.

Even with fear in her eyes, she looked breathtaking. Dressed in white, she was a vision—so pure, so untouchable. Humza averted his gaze, unwilling to let her see the admiration that burned within him.

Without another word, he snapped the laptop shut, but before he could say anything, her voice cut through the silence.

"Isn't it a little unfair?" she mused, the challenge in her tone unmistakable. "You disappear for a whole week without a word, and I don't get to see you for so long, but you've been watching me the entire time?"

Her words struck him like a bullet. He stood frozen, too dumbfounded to form a response.

Humza clenched his jaw, forcing himself to sound as distant as possible. "Stay the hell away from my things," he snapped, hoping the sharpness in his tone would be enough to shut her down.

He had no answer for her question, no excuse that would justify his obsession. Turning away, he strode toward the brown cupboard, pretending to search for something—anything—to avoid looking at her. But he could feel her presence beside him, the warmth of her body radiating so close that it made his skin prickle.

Then, without warning, she reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him toward her.

Humza stiffened at the contact, heat spreading through his arm where her fingers touched.

"Don't even try to change the topic," she demanded, her voice firm, unwavering. "I asked you a question, and you will answer me."

Her newfound courage startled him, but what truly caught his attention was her mouth. His eyes betrayed him, dropping to her plump lips—soft, inviting, tempting him in ways he had no right to feel.

Don't look at her lips. His brain scolded him.

He forced himself to shift his gaze, locking onto her eyes instead. Bad decision. Those mesmerizing depths pulled him in, threatening to unravel him completely.

Fuck, what do I do? Where do I look?

His chest rose and fell heavily as he finally tore his gaze away. Anywhere but her.

Breathing in deeply, he schooled his expression into indifference before responding.

"Don't flatter yourself," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "There are cameras all over the house. It's not just you. I'm tracking a traitor, and that could be anyone."

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Hurt flashed in Anaabiya's eyes, the sting of his coldness evident. Her lashes trembled as unshed tears threatened to spill, but she didn't look away. She held his gaze, silent but wounded, and for the first time, Humza felt like the real traitor in the room.

Anaabiya's voice softened, disbelief and hurt lacing her words. "You think I could be the traitor?"

Humza shrugged carelessly, his expression unreadable. "I don't know. Could be."

"You don't mean that," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she were on the verge of tears.

He averted his gaze. He couldn't bear to see that. He didn't want her to leave, but he needed her to stop loving him. He had to push her away—had to make her hate him before she discovered the truth. Before she realized that the man she loved was the same one who had taken everything from her.

So he did what he knew best—he hurt her.

"I mean every damn word," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, his heart breaking with each syllable. "I already told you—I was just playing around. Winning your love was just another game. There was always this fire in you, this defiance that irritated me. I wanted to break that. Make you submit to me. And guess what? I won."

His lips curled slightly, but it wasn't a smile—it was mocking, cruel. "Just look at yourself."

Deep down, he knew he was being selfish. He couldn't bear to watch her leave with hatred in her eyes. He couldn't stomach the idea of her regretting loving him because of his past. So he chose the only path left to him—he destroyed them before she ever had the chance to.

Humza masked his voice with coldness, forcing himself to remain indifferent as he spoke without looking at her. Silence followed, and for a moment, he wondered if she had already left.

"I brought you food," Anaabiya said after a while.

His gaze shifted to her, finding her eyes cast downward, focused on her feet. His gaze shifted to the box sitting on the table. His chest tightened at the small gesture, warmth flickering in a heart he was desperately trying to keep frozen. But he couldn't accept it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"Spare me the act, Anaabiya. We're not some perfect little couple, so stop pretending like we are," he spat, forcing cruelty into his tone.

"I made biryani for you. Thought you might like it." Her voice was steady, but he could hear the quiet battle behind every word. "Eat it, throw it—I don't care. But I'm not taking it back."

Sadness laced her voice, and it clawed at him, threatening to shatter his resolve. He loved biryani, and the scent was already making his mouth water, but he refused to give in. He clenched his jaw and stayed silent.

Without another word, she abruptly turned around and scuttled away, fury and hurt evident in her every step.

The moment Anaabiya was gone, a small smile tugged at Humza's lips as he looked at the tiffin. Without hesitation, he picked it up and carefully placed it inside the small cupboard, ensuring it was safe.

But then, a thought struck him, and his expression darkened.

Fuck! He had completely forgotten—Anaabiya didn't even know this place well. How could she be so reckless? He needed to make sure she got home safely.

Grabbing his phone, he immediately called Huzaifa, but the call went unanswered. He groaned in frustration. Now, he had no choice but to go down to the basement himself.

Humza strode toward the door, pulling it open with urgency. He was about to head in the other direction when the sight before him made his blood boil.

Shahzil, Ahmed's brother, had his arms wrapped around Anaabiya as she struggled against his grip. If not for her hand pushing against his chest, their bodies would have been flush together.

"Just leave me," she demanded, her voice laced with frustration and fear.

"Not before you tell me your name, beautiful," Shahzil smirked.

That was it. Humza lost all control. Rage erupted within him like an unchained beast, and without a second thought, he charged toward them like a mad bull.

"Hands. Off. My. Wife, you moron," Humza bellowed, his voice echoing through the corridor as he grabbed Anaabiya's arm, yanking her back toward him.

Shahzil, recognizing the danger in Humza's tone, immediately let go. The abrupt pull caused Anaabiya to stumble, and she fell straight into Humza's arms. His grip tightened around her instinctively, but his fury remained unchecked. His jaw clenched as he glared at Shahzil, barely containing the violent rage surging through him.

How did she always manage to attract attention?

Shahzil, unfazed by the outburst, simply smirked. The sheer audacity made Humza's fingers itch to wrap around his throat or, better yet, sever the hands that had dared to touch her.

"Relax, brother," Shahzil chuckled, his voice light, but his eyes glinting with mischief. "Didn't realize she was off-limits." He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his gaze drifted back to Anaabiya, lingering a second too long.

Humza saw red.

Humza's glare was so intense it could have burned a hole through Shahzil's skull. "She's not just off-limits," he growled, his jaw ticking with barely restrained fury. "She's mine."

To hell with what Anaabiya thought of his words. His irritation burned deep, and he wished he could erase the image of her in another man's hold from his mind. The sight of it made his blood boil, made him want to bury Shahzil alive.

"Territorial, aren't we?" Shahzil mused, crossing his arms over his chest with an infuriating smirk. "Didn't peg you for the jealous type, Humza."

Humza's hold on Anaabiya tightened ever so slightly, his fingers gripping her arm with a silent possessiveness. His expression remained eerily composed, but his voice carried an unmistakable threat.

"Touch her again, and I'll break every bone in your body," he said smoothly, the deadly calm in his tone making it clear he wasn't bluffing.

"Relax, man," Shahzil drawled, lifting both hands in a mock display of surrender. "Didn't realize this beauty was already claimed." His smirk was nothing short of smug, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he let his gaze flicker over Anaabiya once more.

This man had a death wish.

Humza instantly pulled Anaabiya behind him, shielding her from Shahzil's lingering gaze. He could deal with her later, spin some false story if he had to, but right now, he wasn't about to let another man even look at her the wrong way.

"What brought you here, Shahzil?" he asked, his tone clipped. He couldn't outright hurt him—Shahzil was Ahmed's brother, after all—but that didn't mean he had to tolerate his presence.

He felt Anaabiya shifting behind him, trying to move away, and without hesitation, he caught her arm and pulled her back behind him again. His sharp glare was a silent warning.

She responded with a glare of her own, defiant and unyielding. And damn it—she looked adorable while doing it.

"Now, now, Humza," Shahzil mused, tilting his head slightly. "No need to get so worked up. I just came by to have a little chat... but it seems I stumbled into something far more interesting."

Humza's grip on Anaabiya didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened, his entire body radiating warning. "Say what you have to say and get lost."

"Oh, don't mind me," Shahzil murmured. "I'll leave soon enough. But I have to say... you both are far more entertaining."

Humza's patience was running thin. His jaw clenched as he glared at Shahzil. "Stop wasting my time and just get to the point," he snapped.

Shahzil spoke again, drawing Humza's attention back to him. "Relax, man. No need to get all worked up," he drawled. "Ahmed Bhai is in town and has invited you to dinner tomorrow. Oh, and he specifically asked you to bring your wife along."

Humza tensed at that. He didn't want Anaabiya anywhere near his world. Taking her along meant exposing her to danger, risking her life. There were always eyes watching, waiting to uncover his weaknesses, and he couldn't let them know about her. Saving her from the fire had already put her in enough danger.

"She's not coming," Humza shot back instantly, his voice firm.

Shahzil raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "And why's that?" he challenged.

"That's none of your damn business," Humza snapped, his temper flaring.

"Woah, chill out," Shahzil chuckled, raising his hands in a mock display of surrender. Humza noted that he did that often—not out of fear, but as a way to taunt. Shahzil belonged to a powerful gang himself; he had no reason to be afraid. That only fueled Humza's irritation.

"I'm just saying," Shahzil continued with an infuriating smirk, "Ahmed Bhai won't be too pleased if you refuse."

Humza clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what Shahzil was doing—and worse, knowing he was right. Refusing outright wasn't an option, not without consequences. His fingers curled into fists at his sides as frustration coursed through him. But right now, he had a more pressing concern. He needed to get Anaabiya away from here.

"Huzaifa!" Humza's voice boomed through the space. Within moments, Huzaifa emerged from one of the doors, a pistol still in his grip, his clothes damp with sweat. It was clear he had been dealing with their "guest" in the basement.

A sudden movement behind him made Humza stiffen. Anaabiya had pressed herself against his back, clutching his shirt as if seeking protection. The warmth of her touch sent an unwelcome jolt through him, his body reacting instinctively. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to focus.

His gaze flicked to Huzaifa, silently ordering him to hide the gun. The last thing he needed was Anaabiya panicking. Huzaifa immediately caught on, slipping the weapon behind his back, shielding it from her view.

"Treat him nicely. I'll be back," Humza snapped at Huzaifa before turning on his heel and dragging Anaabiya along with him. His grip was firm, his pace relentless.

Frustration simmered beneath his skin, not just at the situation but at Anaabiya herself. She was beautiful—too beautiful—and men were drawn to her too easily. It infuriated him. And lately, she had become bold, standing up to him in ways she never had before. He couldn't let that continue. He couldn't let her start believing that he loved her.

After what felt like an endless struggle, he finally got her home. But the image of Shahzil's hands on her refused to leave his mind. The mere thought of another man touching her made his blood boil. Every fiber of his being itched to break Shahzil's hands for even daring to lay a finger on her.

Without a word, Humza led her straight to her room, his grip still unforgiving. He pushed open the door and dragged her inside, not stopping until they reached the bathroom. His hold on her was rough, his movements unyielding, yet he didn't care. He needed to get her away from all of it—away from men like Shahzil, away from his world.

Anaabiya gasped, her eyes wide with shock. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded, her voice laced with confusion and anger.

Humza didn't answer. He didn't need to. Instead, he yanked her under the cold spray of the shower, turning it on without warning. Water cascaded over them both, drenching them in an instant. Anaabiya shivered, but she had no room to move, no space to escape. Humza had her caged against the tiled wall, his body a solid barrier keeping her in place.

His jaw clenched, his eyes dark and unreadable as he stared at her. He wanted to wash away the filth of another man's touch. Shahzil had dared to lay hands on her, and the thought alone sent a fresh wave of possessiveness surging through him. No one—no one—could touch what belonged to him.

The water soaked through her clothes, turning the delicate fabric nearly transparent. Humza's gaze drifted lower, his breathing growing heavier as he took in the way the wet material clung to her curves, outlining every tempting detail. Her voluptuous breast were now visible to him and he felt his groin tightening even more in response. He wanted to touch them and make her squirm under him in delight. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her damp strands of hair sticking to her face, her lips trembling from the cold—or maybe from something else entirely.

His fists clenched at his sides as he fought the primal urges raging within him. His groin ached with need, his body responding to the sight of her in ways he barely contained. She was intoxicating—too intoxicating. And the worst part? He knew she didn't even realize the effect she had on him.

His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to touch her, to claim her fully, to make her tremble beneath his hands for reasons far different than fear. A dangerous hunger simmered in his gaze as he leaned in, his voice low and rough.

Heat rushed to Anaabiya's cheeks, turning them a deep shade of crimson. She averted her gaze, refusing to meet his eyes, and tried to twist away from his hold. But Humza was faster. Before she could take a single step, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head against the cold, wet tiles.

A shaky breath left her lips, but she still refused to look at him. Her stubborn defiance only fueled the fire burning inside him. He leaned in, closing the remaining distance between them until his chest was flush against hers. The sensation of her soft body pressed against him sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through his veins.

His grip on her wrists tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her that she wasn't going anywhere. The sound of water cascading around them mixed with the heavy silence between them.

She should have called him a pervert. Should have lashed out at him, screamed at him, done something to push him away. But she didn't. And that alone made Humza's restraint teeter dangerously on the edge.

Humza's voice was low, almost a command. "Look at me in the eye."

Water droplets cascaded from Anaabiya's chin, tracing delicate paths down her neck before disappearing into the fabric clinging to her skin. He watched them, entranced for a brief moment before his mind was consumed by a single, haunting thought—could she ever forgive him?

If she could... if there was even a sliver of hope, then he would claim her right here, right now.

Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. Humza's breath hitched as he searched her eyes, desperate to find the depth of her love for him hidden within them.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Washing away his touch."

Anaabiya looked at him in bewilderment, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"No one touches you. No one but me." His voice was firm, resolute—he meant every word.

She was so close now, their lips mere inches apart, the warmth of her breath mingling with his. His gaze dropped to her lips, shamelessly drinking in the sight of them. Desire coiled tightly within him, an unstoppable force demanding release. For seconds, he simply stared, battling the urge that threatened to consume him, contemplating whether just one kiss was allowed.

His hands, which had been pinning her wrists only moments ago, slid up to cradle her face. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, his thumb skimming over her lower lip, tracing its delicate curve as if engraving the memory into his soul. He wanted to remember this—every freckle, every soft dip, every intoxicating detail of her.

His restraint wavered, slipping through his fingers like sand. He leaned in further, his lips finally brushing against hers, just barely tasting their softness—only for the moment to be ripped away.

Anaabiya pushed him back the instant their lips touched, breaking the spell in a heartbeat.

Humza was taken aback, his eyes narrowing as he threw a sharp glare her way. She was a small devil—he was sure of it. She had done it on purpose.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. "What do you even want, Humza? Why can't you just be clear with me? I'm tired of this endless push and pull. Do you want me or not? Have I done something wrong for you to keep treating me this way?"

Her words jolted him back to reality, pulling him out of the haze of his desires. For a brief moment, he had been ready to give in, to push her against the wall and claim her lips in a desperate, forceful kiss.

What the fuck am I doing?

Even a child could see it—he was in love with her.

Frustration clawed at him, and before he knew it, his hands flew to his hair, tugging at it in pure agitation.

Humza steeled himself, forcing his emotions back behind an icy mask. He had to be cold toward her. He had to keep his feelings buried deep where she could never reach them.

He spun around to leave the washroom, his soaked clothes clinging heavily to his skin. Every step away from her felt like a battle, but he refused to turn back.

He ran a frustrated hand through his wet hair, exhaling sharply before striding toward the door.

Without thinking, Anaabiya reached for him, her fingers brushing against his wrist. She couldn't let him leave.

If only he could tell her what she meant to him. If only he was good enough for her.

"Just answer me this, Humza," she said, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling in her eyes. "If you don't love me, then why did you leave Malika in her room that night and come to mine? Why are you pretending? I already know the truth—it's written all over you. You can try to hurt me all you want, but it won't change anything."

Her agony was breaking him piece by piece, but he knew it would shatter her even more when she eventually discovered the truth—that she had fallen in love with the man who had killed her parents.

"I. Don't. Love. You." Humza seethed, emphasizing each word to make it sound believable.

He couldn't turn around, couldn't look into her eyes, because if he did, she would see right through his lie.

He was about to leave when her voice rang out again, sharp and unwavering.

"Liar!"

This time, he froze.

She had seen through him. She observed everything, and he had been a fool to think he could hide it from her.

He didn't answer her question—because he had no answer.

Without another word, he strode away.

Humza stormed back into the warehouse, his clothes still drenched and clinging to his skin. The moment he stepped inside, his men informed him that the pictures from the party had finally been acquired.

Shahzil was already gone. Good. Humza had no patience left for distractions.

After changing into dry clothes, he made his way down to the basement, his footsteps heavy against the concrete floor. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat.

Zauq was still strapped to the chair, his head slumped forward, his body a mess of bruises and cuts. His hands were wrapped in white bandages, blood seeping through the fabric. When one of Humza's men yanked his head back, forcing him to face forward, a sharp groan of pain escaped his lips.

Humza's eyes flickered over the pathetic sight before him, but the disgust curling in his stomach wasn't just for Zauq—it was for everything. For himself. For this endless game of betrayal and violence. For the ache in his chest that refused to subside ever since he had left Anaabiya.

A chair was already placed in front of his captive, and Humza sank into it, stretching out his legs as he reached for the pictures. His fingers tightened around them, but his mind was elsewhere. He was in no mood for this. Not after what had just happened.

But he couldn't afford to wait. He needed answers now.

His cold gaze settled on Zauq, his voice dangerously low. "I'm not in the mood to play games. Give me a name before I carve it out of you myself."

Zauq didn't speak.

Humza's jaw clenched. He leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "Or maybe you'd rather I start with something a little more painful? I assure you, I have all night."

Zauq let out a wet, ragged breath before spitting blood onto the floor. His voice was hoarse but defiant. "I'll tell you... if I see them in the picture."

Humza's patience was already hanging by a thread. Without a word, he began flipping through the stack of photographs, his grip tightening with every passing second. The images captured nearly everyone who had attended the party that night—smiling faces, clinking glasses, whispered conversations. But with each picture he showed, Zauq only shook his head.

Humza's frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist against the table, making the entire chair shake. His voice was sharp, venomous. "Faster, you worthless piece of shit!" His roar echoed through the basement, making even the guards standing by the door shift uncomfortably.

Zauq flinched, his body instinctively trying to recoil despite the restraints.

Humza ground his teeth together and kept going, his hands moving through the photos with barely restrained fury. His vision was red, his pulse a steady drum of rage. Then, finally—he reached the third-to-last picture.

A photograph of the couples dancing. An image of elegance and deception.

Zauq's bloodied lips twisted into a grin as he lifted his chin, his gaze landing on a specific figure. "There," he rasped, lifting a trembling, broken finger. "That's him."

Humza's eyes followed the direction of his hand.

And then everything around him stilled.

The blood in his veins turned to ice.

His grip on the photograph nearly tore it in half.

Because there, standing among the dancers, was the man he never expected.

Rage flooded his system like wildfire, burning every ounce of restraint left in him. His entire body coiled with fury, his breathing slow but lethal.

"So it was you," Humza murmured, his voice deadly quiet. Then, in an instant, the calm shattered.

He grabbed the nearest object—a metal tray from the table—and sent it flying across the room, where it crashed into the wall with a deafening clang. The guards tensed, but no one dared to speak.

Humza's fingers curled into fists as he stared at the betrayer in the photograph, his vision darkening with a single, ruthless thought.

You're dead.

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E D I T E D  on 7.3.2025