(A NOVEL WHERE ENEMIES BECOME LOVERS AND SECRETWEAPONS)>>>
(Abandoned Ottoman Mansion – Midnight Storm)
The dagger clattered to the floor as Aroohi's hands trembled. Rain slithered down the broken stained-glass windows, painting their faces in fractured colors. Ahil stepped closer, his breath mingling with hers.
"Five years," he whispered. "I've let you hate me. Watched you sharpen your knives with my name on your lips."
His thumb brushed the scar on her wrist—the one he had stitched himself the night her father died.
"But tell me, Malika... when you dreamed of killing me, why did your tears taste like regret?"
Aroohi shoved him away. "Liar!"
CRACK!
A gunshot shattered the window. Ahil yanked her behind him, their bodies colliding as glass rained down. His lips grazed her ear.
"Run now. Hate me later."
(Istanbul Hospital – Rooftop)
Rain lashed against Hadia's face as she shoved Zain against the emergency exit door, her dagger trembling at his throat.
"Explain the tattoo now!"
Zain didn't resist. His surgeon's fingers gently traced the scar on her wrist—the one she had gotten saving him five years ago.
"Shameer Malik—your dad—unhone mujhe issi rooftop par bachaya tha," he said. "Jab Ibrahim ne goli chalayi, wo mere saamne gir gaye. Unke aakhri alfaaz yeh the: 'Meri beti ki hifazat karna, kyunki tum unki badi beti ho, unki umeed. Aroohi chhoti hai, wo na-samajh hai, masoom hai. Aur fikr mat karo, mera bhai Ahil uski hifazat karega.'"
Hadia's breath hitched. The knife clattered to the ground as Zain's hand cradled her face.
"Main ne wada nibhaya," he murmured, his lips a breath away from hers. "Har dard tumhare liye. Har saans tumhare liye. Par aaj main aur nahi chhupa sakta."
Their lips met in a storm of pent-up anger and longing, tasting of rain and salt. Hadia's fists gripped his bloodstained scrubs, pulling him closer even as her mind screamed "enemy."
SUDDENLY—GUNSHOT!
Zain spun them around, taking the bullet meant for her in his shoulder.
"Run, Hadia!" he growled, shoving her towards the stairs even as blood seeped through his white coat.
Bullets rained around them as Ahil kept Aroohi trapped between his body and the cold mansion wall. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest—too fast, too alive.
"Chup raho," he breathed against her ear. "Be quiet."
Aroohi's nails dug into his back. "Main tumhe akela nahi chhod sakti."
Ahil's laugh was dark as he pressed something cold into her palm—his father's gun.
"Phir se mujhe maarne ki koshish karogi?" he taunted, even as blood dripped from his temple.
Their eyes locked—years of hatred, hours of truth, and something dangerous flickering beneath.
Another gunshot. Ahil flinched.
That was when Aroohi moved.
"Aroohi... Aroohi!" Ahil's voice strained as they ducked into a narrow alley.
The rain-slicked cobblestones gleamed under the dim streetlights.
"Where are we going?" Aroohi tugged Ahil's hand, leading him deeper into the maze of alleyways. The rain cascaded around them, casting an iridescent veil over the labyrinthine streets.
Ahil stumbled, wincing as his shoulder burned, but he followed without question.
Aroohi scanned their surroundings, spotting a shabby building up ahead. It was old and crumbling, with broken windows and a worn wooden door.
She glanced back at Ahil, her eyes meeting his. "In here."
Ahil nodded, his hand still gripping hers tightly as they ducked into the dilapidated building.
A heavy silence filled the air, broken only by the hammering rain and their ragged breaths.
Ahil's eyes flickered as he leaned against the wall, his face illuminated by dim shafts of moonlight spilling from the cracked windows.
Aroohi knelt beside him, worry etched across her face.
"Ahil..." she whispered, reaching for his injured shoulder.
But he caught her wrist, his grip surprisingly tender.
"I'm fine," he whispered back, his eyes holding hers in the gloom.