CONNECTED HEARTS

32: Protective Instincts

Adyan's POV

It had been two days since the incident, but the memory still burned vividly in my mind. No matter how much I tried to distract myself, the images replayed like a cursed tape: my sister standing in Zayn's office, her hand clutching Kaltoom's, her face pale with fear.

Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine Laila would get tangled with anyone from that family. Zayn was a man I categorized as nothing short of dangerous. And his brother? Just another rotten branch on the same tree.

But let me backtrack.

That day had already been heavy. Before Laila's drama exploded in my face, I had my own battle: Zayn. He'd called, demanding a meeting about the contract. His tone was sharp, urgent, like the world would collapse if I didn't show up. Normally, I wouldn't have entertained him, but my father's insistence weighed on me. Our families had ties, old business connections, favors owed. This deal was their first joint venture, and I wasn't about to be the weak link.

I walked into his office with a headache and no patience and the sight that greeted me made my blood boil.

His secretary was sitting on his lap, her blouse slightly unbuttoned, his hand wandering shamelessly. His eyes roamed over her like she was prey. He didn't even bother to look guilty when I stepped inside. I had to clear my throat, loudly, to cut through the vulgar silence.

The secretary jumped like she'd been caught stealing, scrambled off his lap, and nearly tripped over her heels as she rushed past me. Her face was red, her eyes avoided mine.

Zayn only leaned back lazily in his chair, smirking. "Couldn't you knock before barging in?" he asked, voice dripping arrogance.

I clenched my jaw. "I did. You were too busy to respond. I don't have the whole day to wait for you to finish... whatever that was."

He shrugged. "My office. My life. Don't concern yourself."

I wanted to punch that smirk off his face. But I didn't. Instead, I sat down, forced my temper into a box, and we got to the business. Paperwork, contracts, numbers, all of it felt mechanical, pointless in the face of his shamelessness.

And then... the elevator dinged.

When I turned, my whole world tilted.

Standing there, in the doorway, were my sister, Kaltoom, and Amani. And with them, Jalal and his brother.

I recognized the brother instantly, the resemblance to Zayn was uncanny, even if he tried to present himself as more polished. I didn't care. He had Zayn's blood, Zayn's arrogance, Zayn's rot.

My sister was not going to be part of that family. Not while I was alive.

The chaos that followed is a blur: his smirk, his disgusting comment about Kaltoom, my fist connecting with his jaw, Jalal trying to play peacemaker, Kaltoom's wide eyes filled with worry, Laila trembling as she clung to her friends.

By the time I dragged her out of there, my blood was on fire.

⸻

That night, I grounded Laila. Took her phone. Made it clear that she wasn't stepping foot outside without me or the driver. She cried, begged, even tried her usual tricks with Mom.

And Mom... well, she had her own opinion.

"Adyan, she's not a child," Mom said softly as she sat beside Laila, stroking her hair while my sister sobbed. "We can't control who she likes. She has to choose her own partner someday. All we can do is guide her."

I stared at her, disbelief clouding my face. "Guide her? Mom, she walked straight into the office of the same man you've been warning me about... Zayn. His brother is no different. You think that is guiding?"

"She's young," Mom whispered, almost pleading. "Naive. She doesn't see what you see."

"Exactly," I snapped. "That's why she needs protecting, not freedom to make mistakes that could ruin her life."

Laila's sobs got louder, her face buried in Mom's lap. Normally, I'd have caved at her tears, but not this time. The anger, the fear, the disgust at Zayn's smirk, it hardened me.

I stormed out of the room before I said something I'd regret.

⸻

The next day, I called Dad. Explained everything. He listened, calm as always, and promised to sort it out once he was back. That eased me a little, but not enough.

I doubled down on keeping Laila safe. Drove her to school myself. Picked her up. She hated it, but I didn't care. Better she hated me now than regretted me later.

Kaltoom explained her side to me too, and I believed her. None of it was her fault. But hearing how shaken she sounded, how guilty she felt, it lit a different fire in me. Not anger. Something protective. Something that made me want to hold her tighter, shield her from all this.

I called Khalid, told him everything. He understood instantly. "Don't worry," he said firmly. "I'll keep an eye on Kaltoom. No one will touch her."

That reassurance meant more than I could say. Khalid was like me,protective, loyal, a wall when it came to family. If anyone could have Kaltoom's back besides me, it was him.

⸻

By the third day, I was exhausted. But then my phone rang.

"Assalamu alaikum, Dad."
"Wa alaikum salam, son." His voice carried warmth and calmness that washed over me like water. We exchanged pleasantries, and then he said the words I needed most: "I'll be returning tomorrow, In sha Allah."

The relief I felt was indescribable.

For the first time in days, I actually smiled.

I went downstairs and found Mom, Laila, and Khaireeya curled up in the living room, watching Jawan. Shah Rukh Khan was doing his usual heroics, and for a second, I wondered if they were imagining me as the villain barging in to ruin their movie night.

They went stiff when I entered. Laila quickly wiped her face. Mom paused the movie. Khaireeya fiddled with the hem of her scarf.

"Relax," I said, dropping onto the couch like I owned it. "You don't expect me to stay grumpy forever, do you?"

Mom raised an eyebrow, her look saying aren't you, though? Laila facepalmed dramatically, muttering something under her breath, and Khaireeya just shrugged with that don't-drag-me-into-this energy.

I chuckled. For the first time, the tension in the room cracked a little.

Still, I didn't miss the glances. They wanted to ask questions. They wanted me to explain. But I wasn't going to. Not until Dad was back. He'd fill them in. Until then, silence was safer.

The movie carried on, and I pretended to watch, but my thoughts drifted. My mind wasn't in that room. It was somewhere else entirely. With someone else entirely.

Kaltoom.

The one person who made the chaos fade.

As Maghrib approached, I got up, announced I was heading upstairs, and prepared for prayer. My movements were calm, deliberate, but my heart was racing.

Because after the last two days of madness, anger, and control... I needed her. Needed her presence, her smile, her grounding spirit.

Tonight, I would go to her house. Tonight, I would breathe again.

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