"For the ones who dream of stranger worlds."
•••••••
She gazed at the golden hills and swaying flowers, lost in the view - unaware that his eyes were fixed only on her.
Catching his stare, she teased,
"Ain, aap hamari aankhon mein aise na dekha kare...
🖤"Let's begin with the name of Allah, the most merciful and the most beneficial"🖤
••••
•||"The Cost of Love: The Destructive Consequences of Relationships"||•
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Zain's fingers curled tightly around the cold steel of his Ruger GP100 revolver, the weight of it familiar in his grip. Six bullets sat snug in the cylinder-exactly the number he had placed there earlier. Not one missing. His jaw was rigid, hazel eyes locked on the man kneeling in front of him.
The man's face was pale, drenched in sweat, his breath shallow and trembling. It didn't matter. Zain didn't see fear-he saw filth.
A rapist.
His blood burned hotter with the thought. The news had reached him hours ago-what this man had done to a young college girl. Zain hadn't needed to think twice. His orders were clear, his men efficient. The culprit was dragged here, to the peril room-a place meant for the worst of the worst, where mercy never walked in.
Without hesitation, Zain pointed the barrel at the man's chest. The metallic click of the cylinder snapping back into place echoed off the walls. And then- Bang. Bang. Bang.
Each pull of the trigger sent a bullet tearing into flesh, the deafening cracks filling the confined space. By the sixth shot, the man was sprawled lifelessly on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Zain's breathing slowed, but the rage didn't leave-it never did.
Holstering his revolver, he turned sharply and walked out. There was no need to look back. Justice, in his eyes, had been served.
Outside the room, the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic. The dim hallway stretched ahead, lined with silent hospital wards. This building was more than just a hospital-it was his ground, his control, his responsibility.
Before leaving, he made sure the girl was treated-every injury seen to, every need met. She would stay in his foundling home, where abandoned children and outcast adults found shelter. Some left with jobs, some stayed for life. Either way, no one here was left to fend for themselves on the streets.
As he passed one ward, the faint cry of a newborn reached his ears. It was a fragile sound, yet steady-proof of life. His gaze lingered briefly at the door before moving on.
Pushing through the main doors, he stepped into the blinding glare of the afternoon sun. The sudden brightness made him narrow his eyes and raise a hand to block the light.
The phone buzzed in his pocket, the screen lighting up with a name that pulled at both habit and guilt - Ammi.
He answered, keeping his tone even. "As'salamu'alaikum."
