𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬.

𝟕.𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 & 𝐒𝐢𝐧.

The pulsating music reverberated through the club, accompanied by the cacophony of catcalls and the shadows of couples entwined in the dimly lit corners. The air was electric with desire, yet suffocating with the weight of objectifying gazes. Eyes gleamed with lust, some reveling in the hedonistic atmosphere, while others watched in discomfort as women were devoured by the roaming eyes of strangers.

The women, seemingly aware of the attention, accentuated their curves, their attire designed to tantalize, leaving little to the imagination as they moved through the crowded space.

A woman in her early thirties caught the attention of a suited man. His piercing ocean-blue eyes locked onto hers, their gaze brief but intense. Then, his eyes traversed her silhouette, drinking in the details of her dress, before sliding down to her exposed legs, his scrutiny leaving a trail of discomfort.

His gaze traversed the sleek lines of her black satin gown, its backless design accentuating her toned skin. The clicking of her stilettos on the marble floor accompanied her elegant stride. A bold, crimson lip color and shimmery gold eyeshadow, paired with luscious false lashes, framed her striking features.

As she approached, her blonde locks cascaded around her face, framing her features. She licked her lips, a subtle gesture, before sashaying towards the man. His fingers, strong and masculine, wrapped around the wine glass as he raised it to his lips. The bitter-sweet flavors danced on his palate as he savored the sip.

Closing his eyes, memories came flooding back, and with them, a spark of anger reignited. The image of his Dadi's slap still seared his mind, a painful reminder. The club, with its pulsating music and dim lights, had become his sanctuary, a fleeting escape from the turmoil that churned within.

❝Hey, darling, wanna work out?❞ The woman whispered seductively, nibbling on her lips and batting her fake lashes in an attempt to catch the man's attention. But he seemed lost in his inner turmoil, jerking his head as if trying to shake off the haunting memory of a pair of dark grey eyes that had been occupying his thoughts.

❝Just get lost, you Disgusting creature!❞ The man shrieked, his powerful voice reverberating throughout the packed club. Women stared at him with desire as the two top buttons of his black shirt remained unbuttoned, revealing his toned neck. Yet, the man seemed too consumed by his own state of mind to care about being visually undressed by those around him.

The woman, unaware of the danger she was courting, continued her approach, undeterred by his fearsome reputation. His rage had terrified many before, but this absurd woman seemed to relish the risk.

Her eyes burned with fury at the insult she had just endured, yet she tried her luck again, hoping to claim him for the night.

❝You're not so innocent yourself, Musa, baby,❞ she teased, tracing her fingers along his sharp jawline, feeling as if they might get cut by its sharpness. She boldly moved to sit on his lap, her hands roaming over his hard chest, seeking nothing but pleasure.

❝It's Mr. Khan to you, you filthy model!❞ Musa roared, his ocean-blue eyes seething with fire. His chest heaved as he shoved her to the ground, making it clear where she belonged, unaware that in someone else's eyes, he too belonged in the same place.

He stormed out of the club, his expression one of pure disgust as he glared down at her. Leaving the weeping model on the floor, his mind was invaded by the image of those dark grey eyes, driving him to the brink of madness.

❝Ughhhhhhhh!!!! I hate those grey eyes! Just fucking go away!❞ Musa shouted as he sat in one of his expensive cars, furiously pounding the steering wheel in a futile attempt to banish the haunting image. His eyes were bloodshot, sweat pouring down his face as anger distorted his features.

❝I hate you, wife, I fucking hate you!❞ He screamed, spitting out the words like venom, trying to satisfy the darkness that was consuming him. But deep down, a part of him was pained, though he didn't yet understand why.

❝Keep this canvas safe with you, Musa.❞

❝Hold Khafifa close to your heart; it is the light for your darkest nights.❞

The blurred vision of someone familiar flashed before Musa's eyes, causing him to grip the steering wheel tightly. It was just a reflection, but the words spoken by someone close to him echoed powerfully in his ears, pushing his mind to the brink.

Tears began to well up in Musa's ocean-blue eyes, a rare and unwelcome sight. Was Musa Hassan Khan breaking? He continued to pound the steering wheel, desperate to escape the nightmare that wouldn't let him rest.

❝Save me, please!❞

The words echoed repeatedly in his mind, driving him to the edge. Devastated, Musa clamped his hands over his ears, trying to shut out the words that were breaking him. His eyes fixed on a single spot, lost in the torment of his thoughts.

His mind was playing tricks on him, or so he believed. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, trying to numb his heart, even loathing himself for having one.

A heart that carried emotions, but those emotions made him weak and miserable. He was more than what he showed the world.

Musa's ocean-blue eyes closed involuntarily, his head resting on the headboard, tears streaming down his face as helplessness consumed him. His heart pounded with questions, but the answers eluded him.

His eyes trembled as the Moon and Stars bore witness to the sight before them—the great Musa Hassan Khan was losing, and they were prepared to mock him this time.

Every body holds a tragic past, and Musa's was as twisted as he was. He had buried it deep, unwilling to dig it up anytime soon.

But as fate would have it, none can escape the destiny that rules over each soul, a destiny that can both break and mend.

❝I loathe you, wife, I loathe you!❞

Even in this state, the only words that escaped his lips were these. He truly did loathe his wife—the most innocent soul of all, Fayra Hassan Khan.

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