𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬.

𝟑𝟗. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦.

❝Mr. Khan, what is the value of this power you hold so dearly when one day you'll be dead and buried just like everyone else?❞

Fayra's words echoed in Musa's mind, her voice resonating deeply as he absentmindedly stroked his beard while his eyes fixated on the 8k TV. Although he watched the screen, his thoughts were consumed by her statements, and his reverie was disrupted by the news anchor's voice.

Fox News, News Flash:  

❝World-renowned billionaire Musa Hassan Khan, famed for his collection of Khafifa-specific paintings, has been shot and is now hospitalized under critical conditions. Reports indicate that he was targeted over his refusal to sell his collection, which is valued at approximately $6 billion.

Khafifa, the mysterious artist behind these globally admired works, remains unseen. The artist has repeatedly emphasized that the paintings should be appreciated for their emotional depth rather than their monetary worth. That concludes today's news; join us tomorrow for the afternoon update.❞

Musa tossed the remote in frustration, unable to believe the sensationalism of the news. He was enraged by the misrepresentation but was distracted by the sight of Fayra's astonished eyes.

❝Why does the media call you Khafifa?❞ Fayra asked, her voice hesitant but determined. She had mustered the courage to question him, mindful of his volatile temper. She took a spoonful of rice and sat beside the couch near his bed. Musa's attention was captured by her beauty, and when she saw him not responding, she lifted her gaze to meet his unwavering stare.

❝Perhaps it's because I introduced Khafifa to the world,❞ Musa revealed, rising from the bed and walking towards the couch. Fayra's eyes widened in surprise at his approach. As he sat beside her, her heart raced, her breath quickened, and her face flushed when he gently wiped the white residue from her lips.

❝Who is Khafifa then?❞ Fayra asked again, trying to distract herself from his proximity and to reassure herself that he was inconsequential, though her heart whispered otherwise. She stood up from the couch, watching as Musa took a spoonful of rice from the same spoon and ate it, leaving her puzzled by his actions.

❝Khafifa is a beacon for the lifeless, a moon in their darkness, a glimmer of hope, and a rain for those parched for love,❞ Musa said, a smirk spreading across his face as he admired her blushing cheeks. He found joy in teasing her, feeling a sense of calm as he regarded her as his own unique beauty, even if it was without her consent.

❝And the artist?❞ Fayra's question prompted Musa to rise from the couch. He smiled briefly before masking it, unsure of why he felt so compelled to reveal more. Despite his internal struggle, he continued.

❝No one knows who the artist is, and that's why people are so captivated by it,❞ he said, his voice tinged with a deep, unresolved pain. Fayra noticed his eyes welling up with tears, adding to the mystery of his emotions.

❝Artists live within the colors they create when they are surrounded by darkness,❞ Musa continued, his eyes revealing his profound admiration for Khafifa. Fayra found herself lost in the depth of his ocean-blue gaze.

❝Khafifa's art comes from the heart, not from the hand,❞ Musa added. Fayra was struck by the depth of his love for Khafifa's work. Although she had seen the beauty in the paintings, witnessing Musa's passion left her in awe.

❝Khafifa never dies; it is a light for those who dwell in the darkest of times,❞ Fayra whispered. Her voice resonated with Musa, who lifted his head to look at her in surprise. Her words, familiar yet new in her tone, left him speechless.

Fayra adjusted her hijab, which had slipped earlier, and Musa's heart pounded as he absorbed her next statement.

❝To fall in love with Khafifa's art, you must first experience darkness yourself.❞

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