Mafia Captured

9. His childhood love

She never imagined that life could suddenly become so beautiful. Arsalan took her hand gently, pressing it to his lips, his touch sending a warm shiver down her spine.

"Did you enjoy today?" he asked, his voice tender and filled with genuine curiosity.

"Enjoy?" Sahira's smile deepened, her eyes sparkling with unspoken joy. "This day has become the most memorable of my life because you were with me, Arsalan. And today... we even found Kitty. I'll cherish this day forever."

Her face radiated happiness, a glow that needed no words to express the depth of her contentment.

Arsalan, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her joy, reached out and gently removed her hijab. Her long, silky hair cascaded down, a waterfall of ebony strands framing her face before spilling over his. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the sweet, familiar scent that was uniquely hers, letting it fill his senses. Sahira's presence had always stirred something deep within him, something he had never fully understood until now. For someone who had struggled to grasp emotions, he found himself instinctively tuned into hers. When Sahira was happy, the world felt right. When she wasn't, it felt like something was missing. This feeling wasn't new—it had always been there, quietly growing stronger with time.

Sahira Hamid had been his first love, even before he knew what love truly was. For someone who once thought himself incapable of understanding emotions, the first real feeling he ever recognized was happiness. And this happiness, he realized, was inextricably tied to Sahira. It was a revelation that had dawned on him thirteen years ago, though he hadn't fully grasped it at the time.

Thirteen years ago, he had fallen for Sahira Hamid.

---

Arsalan had traveled to Bangladesh with his father to visit his uncle. His uncle had fallen in love with a Bangladeshi woman and married her, a decision that had caused a rift with Arsalan's grandfather, who disapproved and subsequently disowned him.

Abdul Hamid had settled in Bangladesh with his wife, far from the family that had rejected their union.

Abrar Reza Ansari had come to Bangladesh for a seminar, and Arsalan had accompanied him. At the time, Arsalan was just twelve, still grappling with the complexities of the world. After the seminar, his father decided to visit his estranged younger brother, a visit that would change Arsalan's life.

Abrar had always kept Arsalan close, almost protective, as if understanding that his son needed something more than what others did. Because of Arsalan's condition, Abrar often took him to new places, introducing him to new faces, hoping to help Arsalan connect with the world in ways he couldn't on his own. He wanted Arsalan to learn how to understand and experience emotions.

Even at the young age of twelve, Arsalan carried himself with a quiet dignity. Despite his tender years, there was a magnetic presence about him, a silent strength that made people pause and take notice.

Abdul Hamid welcomed his older brother and nephew with an enthusiasm that bordered on exhilaration. Seeing his elder brother again seemed to fill a void within him, a void that had lingered since his separation from the family. He embraced Abrar tightly, and then pulled Arsalan into a warm hug, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

At that age, Arsalan had already learned how to respond appropriately in different situations. He returned his uncle's embrace with a polite smile, his movements deliberate, his expression measured.

They all settled into the living room, where Abdul Hamid and Abrar Reza soon became engrossed in conversation, the years of separation melting away as they spoke. Arsalan, ever the observer, quietly took in the room's surroundings. The space was beautifully decorated, filled with little details that spoke of care and warmth. On one wall, a small shelf held a collection of Islamic books, their spines facing out neatly. The bottom shelf was cluttered with a few toys, well-loved and slightly worn.