The Mafia Boss's Bride

Chapter 68 : A Heartfelt Conversation.

The hotel room enveloped them in a hushed ambiance as Ibrahim gathered the first aid supplies. Ava's blood-stained dress, once a symbol of a pleasant day, now bore witness to the brutality they had encountered on the balcony.

Ibrahim approached Ava as she sat on a single sofa, her tears flowing freely. He sighed, "Why didn't you wait for me? You could've sat in the lobby." His anger grew high everytime by seeing Ava's wound. But he was controlling his anger infront of Ava.

Through her gritted teeth, Ava replied, "There's no network in the lobby. I went to the balcony to see if there was a connection." She was trying to tolerate the pain. She got a large and deep cut near elbow.

Ibrahim cleaned the wound, "We have Wi-Fi here. You could've waited a little longer for me if want to go to balcony." 

"Don't scold me," Ava snapped. "I'm tolerating the pain, and I wanted to see the balcony. Is it a crime?"

"It's not a crime, Baby Girl. You went to balcony it's good. But why did you have to intervene in their problems?" Ibrahim sighed. 

Her eyes met his, "The man, Daniel was torturing his pregnant wife, Ibrahim! I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. He slapped her, pushed her – she's pregnant!"

Ibrahim sighed and tightened the bandage. Something was going on inside his head. And he got the name - Daniel. Now he had to handle the man. 

"I can't unsee something like that," she said, "And I don't regret trying to help." Her tears were falling continuously. 

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Ibrahim muttered, more to himself than to Ava. But Ava heard that. 

Ava shot back, "Why can't you understand that I can't turn a blind eye to someone in need?"

Ibrahim secured the bandage and gazed into Ava's eyes, his heart aching as he witnessed her tears. Tenderly, he wiped away the traces of sorrow from her cheeks, his touch gentle against her soft skin.

In a soft voice, Ibrahim murmured, "Don't cry, Ava. Your tears... they hurt me deeply."

Ava expressed her frustration. "You scolded me for an hour, Ibrahim. Why did I go to the balcony? Why did I intervene in their fight? You keep asking same question again and again."

Ibrahim moved closer to Ava, "I'm sorry, Ava. I won't question you anymore. I wasn't scolding you, Baby Girl; I just wanted you to be cautious when I'm not around."

"I can't stand seeing a woman being mistreated by a man. Every time I witness such situations, it takes me back to those days when you kidnapped me. I was alone, locked in a room, crying for my family. Those three days felt like an eternity. I didn't miss my parents in my entire life as much as I missed them in those days. There was no one to help me." Ava revealed a deeper layer of her pain.

Ibrahim listened without saying anything. He had caused a deep pain inside Ava. And now it was his time listening all the affects. Despite his efforts to make her forget the trauma, the scars lingered, resurfacing with each new challenge. Every attempt to bring happiness to Ava seemed to be met with an unforeseen obstacle. It was as if some unseen force conspired to shatter the peace they sought.

"Why do men think women are powerless?" Ava questioned, "Why can't men treat women better? Do they find peace in seeing women cry?" Her voice was carrying pain. She wanted to know if Ibrahim felt happy to see her crying in those days. 

Ibrahim remained silent, his gaze averted, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil. Ava pressed on, "Won't you say something, Ibrahim?"

It was as if Ava's words had struck a chord deep within him. Ibrahim struggled to find the right words, the weight of his actions heavy on his conscience, "Do you see me like other men? I've never raised my voice at you, never laid a hand on you. Why do you think I'm like other men? Are you comparing me to Daniel? Am I really that low in your eyes?"