The car sped down the dark, winding road, the growl of the engine almost drowned out by the storm raging outside. Rain lashed against the windows, the rhythmic thud of droplets a sharp contrast to the furious silence between the two people inside.
Murtasim’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, the tension in his body visible through the rigid set of his jaw and the barely contained rage flashing in his eyes. He couldn’t even look at her. His thoughts were a blur, swirling with images he couldn’t erase, questions he couldn’t shake, and an anger so deep, it felt like it was consuming him.
Meerab sat in the passenger seat, her body stiff and frozen, her hands clenched together in her lap. She could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on her, suffocating her, but she couldn’t find the words to explain. To defend herself. She didn’t even know where to start. How could she make him understand something that she barely understood herself?
The sight of him outside Rohail’s house—of all places—had shaken her to her core. She had known this would be bad, that his temper would flare, but she wasn’t prepared for the depth of hurt she saw in his eyes. A hurt he had turned into fury, the kind of fury that scared her more than any argument they’d had before.
The car screeched to a halt on the side of the deserted road. Gravel crunched under the tires, the force of the stop jerking them both forward. Murtasim’s breathing was heavy, labored, his chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. For a moment, he didn’t move, his head hanging forward as he gripped the steering wheel, trying to rein in the storm inside him. But it was no use.
Without warning, he threw open the door and got out, the rain drenching him instantly as he circled around the car. Meerab flinched as he yanked her door open, his eyes dark and wild with fury.
“Get out,” he growled, his voice low and deadly.
Meerab didn’t move at first. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what to say, how to calm him down, but words failed her. She knew there was no easy way out of this. Murtasim wasn’t just angry—he was hurt, and that hurt was fueling every angry word he was about to throw at her.
When she didn’t move, Murtasim leaned down, grabbing her wrist in a firm but controlled grip, pulling her out of the car and slamming the door shut behind her. The rain continued to fall, soaking them both as he pushed her back against the side of the car, pinning her between his body and the cold metal. His eyes blazed with fury, his breath hot and rapid as he stared her down, his chest inches from hers.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. “What were you doing in his house, Meerab?”
Meerab’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. The intensity of his stare, the raw emotion in his voice—it was too much. She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat, and all she could do was shake her head.
“Answer me!” Murtasim’s voice rose, his hands tightening on her shoulders, his grip almost painful. “Is this why you made me sign that contract? So you could run back to him whenever you wanted?”
Her eyes widened at his accusation, tears stinging her eyes as the weight of his words crashed over her. He thinks I betrayed him. The thought tore at her heart, but she couldn’t seem to make her voice work. She shook her head again, more frantically this time, her lips trembling.
“Murtasim, no… it’s not what you think,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain.
“Then tell me what to think!” he shot back, his anger flaring once more. “Because all I can think about is how you were in his house! How you were with him!”
