𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬.

𝟐𝟗. 𝐀 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

The sun bathed the world in its morning light, and as the clock ticked past ten-thirty, Khan's mansion buzzed with the activity of maids scurrying to complete their chores. The tension in the air was palpable; they knew their Master could arrive any moment.

When he did, he was a striking figure of power and fatigue. His white shirt, drenched in sweat, clung to his body, and his hair was tousled. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing his collarbone, a sight that could make any woman's heart race. His chest heaved with rapid breaths, and his clenched jaw radiated a commanding presence that could instill fear in anyone who crossed his path.

Musa Hassan Khan entered with a demeanor that exuded authority and unspoken emotions. His ocean-blue eyes, usually so steady, now reflected a tumult of feelings that no one could easily decipher.

❝ Khan Khan! ❞ The desperate cry of an elderly woman pierced the air, causing Musa to turn. His eyes softened as they met hers. Tears streamed down her face as the security personnel tried to restrain her.

❝ Leave her now, ❞ Musa's voice cut through the chaos, commanding the guards to release the woman. They complied immediately, shivering under the weight of his authority. The woman approached Musa, her trembling hands and tear-filled hazel eyes conveying her desperation.

Musa studied her appearance: her clothes were tattered and stitched in places, and her hijab barely contained her disheveled hair. Her age was evident in the deep lines on her face. She folded her hands in a pleading gesture, collapsing to her knees as she sobbed.

❝ Khan-Khan, please, for the sake of Allah, save my daughter. My daughter has been abducted by- ❞ Her words were choked with tears, and she struggled to continue. Musa, the embodiment of ruthless control, remained impassive on the surface, though his heart was stirred.

❝ By? ❞ Musa's curiosity was piqued, his brows arched in questioning. The onlookers, including the guards, watched in silence, some with pity and others with keen interest in Musa's next move.

❝ Alex, ❞ the woman finally managed to utter, her voice trembling. The name struck like a thunderclap. The guards' eyes widened in recognition and fear. Musa's rage flared, his jaw tightening and his eyes blazing with contempt. Alex was known as a brutal criminal, and Musa had been investigating him for his illicit activities, including the abduction and trafficking of women.

❝ Go home. I will get your daughter safe and sound, ❞ Musa declared, his voice resonating with determination. The woman's tears turned to a hopeful smile as she believed in Musa's promise. The guards quickly readied themselves to act on their master's orders.

As Musa strode away, his fury palpable, he straightened his disheveled hair and met the gaze of Fayra, whose gray eyes were now watching the unfolding drama. Musa's anger seemed to dissolve momentarily as he saw her, her presence strangely calming in contrast to his rage.

But the scenes from the warehouse and the menacing message from the envelope crashed back into his mind. He gripped Fayra's arms with possessive force, his anger spilling over. He thrust the envelope in her face, making her tremble.

Fayra's gaze fell upon the words written in the envelope, and her tears flowed freely. She wanted to scream her innocence, but knew it wouldn't change anything. Her heart ached, but she remained silent.

❝ I can't love you, at least not this awful face, ❞ Musa's harsh words cut through the air. Fayra's heart clenched at his cruelty, and she squirmed under his brutal grip. Musa's eyes were locked onto hers, filled with a dangerous intensity.

❝ Love is a misconception, wifey. It's just a mere fling, ❞ he spat, his disdain evident. Musa's anger seemed to be as much about convincing himself as it was about punishing Fayra. The words of Aroosh and Altamash echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside.

❝ Mr. Khan, look through the lens of an artist or poet, then tell me love is just a fling, ❞ Fayra's defiant words rang out, her cheeks marked from his harsh grip. Musa's eyes widened in surprise as he absorbed her challenge. Her words seemed to penetrate his defenses, striking a chord within him.

❝ Mrs. Khan, my heart's only desire is to make you suffer so deeply that you beg for death, ❞ Musa's voice was venomous, causing another tear to slip down Fayra's cheek. Despite the pain, she managed a broken smile and distanced herself from him. Her heart, though battered, recognized a flicker of something in Musa that defied his reputation.

❝ Don't let your hatred consume you entirely, ❞ Fayra whispered, her voice gentle despite the agony she felt. ❝ There is still beauty in you that deserves to survive. ❞

Her words, spoken with a tender smile, left Musa standing in stunned silence. Fayra, despite her suffering, saw a glimmer of goodness in him. Musa, known for his ruthlessness, was faced with a reflection of himself he rarely acknowledged. The complexity of his emotions and the enigmatic nature of his heart became even more apparent as he grappled with Fayra's unexpected compassion.

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