When Rania Safi's life crumbles in a mere six months, Officer Johan Li is left with unrequited emotions and unanswered questions. On the other end of the same city, Roman Sinclair and Elham Khan find themselves on the two side of the same coin.
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F o u r years and six months. That's how long it had been since he saw her for the first time. He had been a fairly new officer and was at her flight for an inquiry about a passenger. She had been standing by the podium, talking to another agent. His gaze stilled on her, and the seconds seemed eternal as if suspended. Her eyes sparkled as she discussed the blatantly ridiculous requests made by the passengers. Time seemed to freeze as she walked past him, and her perfume lingered behind—something mixed with rose, maybe oud, yet fresh. He couldn't pinpoint it, but that fragrance stayed with him for four years, a memory of her every time he smelled that scent anywhere. He couldn't say it was love at first sight, but she was the only one he ever wanted to pursue after that moment. She was the one he wanted to get to know, but she just walked past him with a glance and nothing more. He was six feet tall, well-built, and towered above most agents working there, yet to her, he was invisible.
And now, suddenly, out of the blue, he was the only one standing in her world. He didn't want that, not at the cost of her life and soul. He wanted to be a choice, not the result of her circumstances, even as a friend. Yet, he couldn't abandon her. Over the course of four years, he had fallen in love with her from the sidelines because she loved life so much. There wasn't even a dusty trail of that love in her haunting eyes, which still held onto some unshed tears. His gaze shifted to her as he parked the car in his designated space in the apartment building parking.
The sedatives in her system had overpowered her once again, causing her to fall asleep in the car. Yet, she looked anything but peaceful. Fear and pain were etched on her face. Anguish marked her body—some of it in the form of new bruises, and some in the form of old scars, like the one on her jaw.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. He had received extensive training for all sorts of scenarios, but nothing prepared him for this. His emotions were involved, and he was navigating uncharted territory with someone who was fragile and bruised. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't sure. The only certainty he had was that he was just as lost as she was.
"Rania," he whispered, but she didn't hear him. He tried again, a little louder, "Rania."
"I'll make breakfast in a second," she mumbled, her face scrunching up in fear. He closed his eyes, unable to bear seeing her in that state.
"Rania," he whispered once more, gently touching her left arm to wake her. He knew that if he spoke any louder or touched her arm with more force, she might flinch and hurt herself further.
She blinked slowly, her eyes struggling to open at the soft contact of his hand.
"We're here. The apartment is on the second floor."
She stared at him in confusion for a moment before taking in his uniform and realizing where she was. She nodded, still swaying between drowsiness and pinching pain.
