Ink and Ambition [RE-WRITING AND EDITING]

Snap and Dead

One exact year, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes. I sat in my small, cluttered apartment, eyes fixed on the screen of my laptop. Now 525601 minutes. It had been a year since Noori's disappearance, exactly a year of relentless searching, sleepless nights, and moments of unconsciousness.

The rain outside mirrored the mess within me, a constant reminder of the storm that burns in my heart filled with a desire to get my woman back.

I scrolled through the latest news reports, hoping against hope. For any clue, any hint that would lead me to her. The police had long since scaled back their efforts, with a lack of new leads, but I refused to give up, dedicated every waking moment to tracking down Noori, fueled by my morals.

She was ready for me. To leave her family away for me. She was a responsibility of me. Above all, she trusted me. And I don't and know I won't have the courage to break it.

The apartment walls were showered with maps, photos, and scribbled notes—a makeshift command centre in my quest. I had enlisted the help of friends, family, and even strangers through social media, spreading Noori's story far and wide in the hopes that someone, somewhere, had seen or heard something that could bring her home. Please come home. Please. For our love's sake.

But tonight, as the rain drummed relentlessly against the windowpanes, I felt a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. My mind replayed memories of Noori—her laughter, her smile, her stutters, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of her dreams. I missed her with a depth that consumed me, a gnawing ache in my chest that refused to be gone.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the table beside him, startling me out of my mind. With trembling and quick hands, I picked it up, my heart racing for I-don't-know-what.

My eyes now stared at a different screen. The only difference was that I was angrier at this one. It was a message from Hassan, the sinister who had haunted our wedding day. The reason she's still not completely labelled mine. The address he sent the last time was fake. I'd wished to cut his heart, head and soul with my bare hands. Brat.

"Still searching for her, Zayd?" the message read, accompanied by a photo of Noori, looking dishevelled and haunted, her eyes pleading for help. My hands clenched into fists, fury and despair warring within my soul, my soul which had scars of resistance and wait all over.

Hassan's cruel taunts and twisted games had become a sickening routine, a reminder of the evil that still held Noori captive. The reason he wasn't behind bars was that he deleted the stupid email, leaving us with no evidence against him.

But tonight was different. I felt a resolve that burned hotter than ever before. I knew I couldn't wait for the authorities or rely on others any longer. Clutching my phone tightly, I made a decision—a dangerous decision that would take me into the heart of darkness and the underworld.

First of all, I screenshotted my screen showing his text. Without hesitation, I contacted Drew. Together, we plotted our next move, tracing IP addresses, hacking into encrypted servers, and following a trail of breadcrumbs that led deeper into the underworld where Hassan operated.

I don't know if it's another prank, but I won't stop believing him. Even if Drew thinks it's stupid to give him any chance at all. Because I know how my mom used to think.

Hours passed like minutes as we worked tirelessly, pushed, shoved and pulled by adrenaline and a single-minded purpose.

Finally, we uncovered a lead—a location, hidden on the outskirts of the city, where Hassan was rumoured to keep his prisoners. It was a risky move, but I knew I had to take the chance.

As the rain, which I noticed suddenly slowing a bit down—for the first time—continued to pour outside, I stood at the threshold of a dark alleyway, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anger, which I knew I won't try to control this time. Drew stood beside me like a silent pillar of support in the face of danger.

"This is it," I whispered, steeling myself for what lay ahead. With a silent prayer on my lips, Noori's image glowed loudly in my mind. I stepped into the shadows. I'm coming, Noori. And so am I coming for the brat.

I'm about to murder. Straight-up murder. The moment I see him. Snap and dead.