A day called Life

Part 4

The hours dragged on as the tension in the house thickened. Iman and Rahan kept their vigil at the front of the house, their eyes flicking between the road and each other, alert for any sign of trouble. The sun had fully set now, and the only light came from the dim glow of the porch light and the occasional passing car.

Inside, Grandma sat beside Raesha and Ansiya, who were still sleeping, the exhaustion of the day finally taking its toll. Grandma's hand never left her daughter's, a silent promise of protection. Every now and then, she would glance at the door, her ears straining to catch any sound from outside. But all was quiet, too quiet.

Then, just as she began to think maybe they had a little more time, a car engine rumbled down the street, slow and deliberate. The sound sent a chill down her spine. It was a sound she recognized all too well.

Outside, Iman stiffened as he heard the car approaching. "Rahan," he whispered, his voice tense.

Rahan was already on his feet, his eyes narrowing as he saw the headlights turn onto their street. "It's him," he muttered, his tone low and dangerous.

The car crept closer, its engine a menacing growl in the otherwise silent night. When it finally came to a stop outside the house, both brothers could feel the hairs on the back of their necks stand up. The man who stepped out was exactly who they had been expecting.

Raesha's husband—Ifan, Rahan, and Iman's brother-in-law—stood by the car for a moment, surveying the house with a cold, calculating gaze. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his presence alone was enough to fill the air with tension. Even in the dim light, they could see the anger etched into his features, the barely controlled rage simmering beneath the surface.

Without a word, Iman moved to block the path to the front door, his posture relaxed but his expression hard as stone. Rahan stood beside him, his gaze steady, unyielding. They were ready for whatever came next.

He started toward them, his steps heavy on the gravel. His eyes locked onto the brothers, his lips curling into a sneer. "Where are they?" he demanded, his voice laced with venom.

"They're inside, safe," Rahan replied calmly, though there was a steel edge to his voice. "You're not welcome here."

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. "You can't keep them from me," he hissed. "They're my family. My wife and my daughter."

"Not anymore," Iman shot back, his voice low but filled with barely contained fury. "You lost that right the moment you raised your hand to them."

His hands balled into fists, his eyes blazing with anger. "I'll take them back, one way or another. You can't stop me."

Rahan stepped forward, his presence commanding. "If you think you can come into our home and take them by force, you're mistaken. We won't let you hurt them again. This is your only warning—turn around and leave, or we'll make you."

The threat hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed like he might try to force his way past them. But something in Rahan's eyes must have given him pause. There was no doubt in his mind that Rahan and Iman meant every word they said, and that if he pushed them, he wouldn't win.

"Go home," Iman added, his voice steady. "You've done enough damage."

His gaze flicked between the two brothers, calculating his next move. But as much as he wanted to fight, he knew he was outnumbered and outmatched. Finally, with a frustrated growl, he turned on his heel and stormed back to his car.

"You'll regret this," he spat as he opened the door, his eyes promising retribution. "You'll see."

Neither Rahan nor Iman responded. They just watched as he slammed the door shut and gunned the engine, the tires screeching as he sped away into the night.