𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬.

𝟑𝟖.𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐠𝐨.

A WEEK LATER

The next evening arrived as usual, with the sun slowly disappearing from the sky. People gathered to admire the stunning sunset, marveling at the divine artistry of the Almighty.

A week had passed since the incident, and although things were improving, the Khan family's minds were still haunted by the recent events. Healing the soul was a slow process, and the scars on their hearts would remain forever.

The story of the great business tycoon's hospitalization had become the talk of the town. Some hoped he would recover and return to his influential role, despite his reputation as a ruthless figure who had always helped the underprivileged.

❝Let me go, I just want to see Khan.❞ An unfamiliar elderly woman's voice drew Fayra's attention. She followed the sound, navigating through the crowded hospital.

❝Let her in,❞ Fayra instructed, surprising the guards. Her gaze met the woman's dark eyes as she struggled to walk, her eyes glistening with tears as she recognized Fayra as Khan's beloved wife.

Musa had strictly prohibited anyone from entering the VIP room except immediate family, needing rest and avoiding media pressure. However, the guards had to obey Fayra's command due to her status.

❝Why do you want to see Khan?❞ Fayra asked with a warm smile, admiring the woman's modesty. The woman, her hijab perfectly draped, leaned on the wall for support as she advanced.

Fayra offered to guide her to where Musa was, and the woman's eyes reflected gratitude for Fayra's kindness.

❝I want to thank him,❞ the woman replied, her voice melodic and heartfelt. Fayra led her to the familiar room, with the guards following behind as required. Upon entering, Fayra's eyes met Musa's distressed ocean-blue ones. He lay propped up against the headboard, clearly frustrated by his confinement but resigned to stay there for Dadi's sake.

❝Out now!❞ Musa's sharp command made the elderly woman flinch, causing her to step back in fear. Fayra, though also nervous, guided the woman forward. When Musa saw her, he lowered his head in respect. The old woman appeared to be around the age of his grandmother.

❝Sorry, sir,❞ Fayra said, noticing the guards retreating in fear. She realized that Musa had wanted them to leave, not the old woman.

❝May Allah grant you healing for always helping those in need, Khan,❞ the woman said, her voice trembling. Musa clasped her hand, his intense blue eyes filled with gratitude. A tear rolled down the woman's cheek as she gently touched his head and then bade farewell to Fayra, who watched in astonishment.

Clearing her mind, Fayra adjusted her hijab and approached Musa, who watched her every movement with keen interest. She placed a bowl of soup next to him, raising an eyebrow in question when he looked at her, leaving him bewildered by her actions.

❝Dadi asked me to take care of you,❞ she said softly, trying to bring him out of his daze. She filled the spoon with soup and held it out to him, but he stared at her blankly, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions and a skipped heartbeat.

❝I am capable of taking care of myself. I don't need anyone else,❞ he retorted, pushing the bowl away and glaring at her. Fayra gritted her teeth, frustrated by his stubbornness.

She knew he took great pride in his power and understood that it wouldn't serve him well in this situation. Musa watched her quietly, waiting for her response. What she said next left him stunned, and she noticed a flicker of hurt in his deep blue eyes.

❝Mr. Khan, what good is this power you take so much pride in when, in the end, you will be just like everyone else-dead and buried in the same soil?❞

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