WINNER OF HEART♡

◇part 2◇

"Janan."

Janan's heart skipped a beat when she saw Ramin frozen in place, a whirlwind of emotions painted across his face. She asked gently, "Ramin, what's wrong?" But instead of answering, he just stared at her, unable to form the words, and then abruptly turned and left. Confused, Janan watched him go, then turned to her colleague, Rahil. "You can leave now," she said softly. Rahil nodded and exited, leaving Janan alone with her thoughts. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, "Oh Allah, have mercy on me. I think he was jealous... What should I do? Please take care of him, ya Rab."

Ramin's anger, jealousy, and pain coiled tightly within him as he drove his car at a reckless speed. "Ahh, Janan, do you want me to become the villain? My beloved, I'll destroy any man who looks at you the wrong way," he muttered to himself. Once he got home, he stormed inside, his thoughts a turbulent mix of love and rage. After a scalding shower, he looked at himself in the mirror, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. "Poor guy, feel sorry for you. Get ready; your life will be hell from now on," he sneered at his reflection.

Grabbing his car keys, he drove back to the hospital, his mind set on confronting Rahil. When he found Rahil outside Janan's room, holding a phone and secretly taking pictures of her, Ramin saw red. Without hesitation, he punched Rahil, rage exploding through him. Rahil hissed in pain as Ramin grabbed him by the collar. "If you ever look at her again, I'll kill you," he threatened, his eyes blazing with fury. The commotion drew a crowd, and soon Janan emerged from the room.

"What are you doing, Ramin?" Janan asked coldly, her voice tinged with disappointment.

"He was taking pictures of you," Ramin growled, his hands still clenched.

Janan sighed, trying to calm the situation. "Ramin, let him go. We're in a hospital."

But Ramin was beyond reasoning. "Janan, I'm going to kill this man," he said, his voice filled with conviction.

Her voice wavered between anger and disbelief. "Ramin, don't make me hate you."

His grip loosened, and he finally let Rahil go, but not without a final warning. "This time, I'm letting you go, but know that you will be destroyed." Janan turned and walked away without another word, leaving Ramin standing there, his heart heavy with the fear of her hatred.

Janan made her way to the bus stop, Zahra by her side. She boarded the bus, her thoughts a tangle of confusion and pain. As the bus rumbled along, she whispered, "Ya Rab, why does it hurt so much? Oh Allah, I'm leaving him in Your care. Guide him, take care of him." A tear slipped down her cheek as she continued, "What Rahil did wasn't right, but Ramin... you're not like this. I fell for the sweet, innocent man, but today... you were someone else."

Ramin sat by his window at home, watching the rain pour down. His thoughts kept spiralling back to Janan. "What if she hates me now?" he whispered to himself. Suddenly, he grabbed his phone and made a call. "Hello, I'm Ramin, Cris David's son," he said into the phone.

"You called me about Janan?" Zahra's voice responded.

Ramin chuckled softly. "Yes, can you send me her address, please?"

Zahra paused before replying, "She loves daisies."

A smile touched Ramin's lips. "Thanks a lot," he said before hanging up. He hurried out, determined to make things right. He bought a bouquet of daisies, Janan's favourite, but just as he was on his way to her house, his car broke down. Frustrated but undeterred, he wrapped the bouquet in his jacket to protect it from the rain and walked the remaining three kilometres.

**Janan's POV:**

I was sitting on my balcony, engrossed in an Islamic book, when I noticed the rain outside. "SubhanAllah," I whispered, admiring the beauty of nature. But then I blinked, thinking I was hallucinating. Was that Ramin standing there, soaked to the bone? His white shirt clung to his body, revealing the pinkish hue of his cheeks from the cold. When our eyes met, he smiled at me, and I found myself telling him to stay where he was with a wave of my hand.