Bound by Darkness

Chapter 11

Aslan moved silently, his footsteps careful and precise as he trailed behind Sahar through the park. The golden light of the setting sun painted everything in a soft, dreamlike glow, but in his world, the shadows were always there, lingering just out of sight. His military training had taught him to blend into his surroundings, to become invisible when needed, and right now, that skill was serving him well. No one noticed him as he moved through the trees, his eyes fixed on Sahar.

She was walking along the narrow path, her long floral frock swaying gently around her ankles with each step. The dress, with its delicate flowers and soft fabric, made her look almost otherworldly—a princess lost in her thoughts, drifting through a world that didn't deserve her beauty. But Aslan knew there was more to her than just beauty. Beneath the quiet grace, he could sense a strength, a fierceness. She wasn't just a princess; she was a hidden warrior. And that intrigued him more than anything.

He didn't understand why he was doing this. This wasn't him. He was a man of action, of control, not someone who followed women around parks, watching them from a distance like some lovesick fool. But when it came to Sahar, all the rules he had lived by seemed to fall apart. She had this pull, this light that drew him in, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't resist it.

She was his light. And he was the moth, helpless against the flame.

As she walked, her eyes were distant, as though her mind was far away. Aslan wondered what she was thinking about. Did she feel the weight of his gaze on her? Did she sense that she wasn't alone? He kept his distance, staying hidden in the shadows, but every part of him wanted to close the gap between them. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to speak to her, but he couldn't. Not yet. For now, he would watch, making sure that no harm came to her.

Sahar paused by a bench near the pond, sitting down and staring out at the water, her expression thoughtful. The soft breeze played with the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, lifting them gently as if the wind itself wanted to touch her. Aslan's chest tightened at the sight. She looked so delicate, so vulnerable, and yet there was something unbreakable about her.

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, lost in his thoughts, when his phone vibrated in his pocket, snapping him back to reality. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. His mother's name appeared, the sight of it pulling him in two directions at once—one toward the woman he was watching, and the other toward the life he had tried to leave behind.

Reluctantly, he answered.

"Aslan," his mother's voice was soft, filled with love and warmth, but also laced with concern. "It's been so long since I heard from you. I miss you. When will you come home?"

He leaned against the rough bark of a tree, his gaze still on Sahar as she sat quietly, lost in her thoughts. "I've been busy, Mama," he said, his voice low.

"Busy," she repeated, her tone tinged with sadness. "I know. It's always work. But your father and I... we miss you. You've been away for so long."

Aslan's jaw tightened at the mention of his father. The man had never approved of the path he had taken. His father had been a businessman, a powerful one at that, and he had expected Aslan to follow in his footsteps. But Aslan had chosen a different life—a life his father could never understand.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a slow breath. "I'll come home soon," he promised, though he wasn't sure if it was a promise he could keep.

"You always say that, Aslan," his mother's voice was soft, but he could hear the hurt beneath her words. "But you never come. Your father is worried. He says you should take over the family business, like you were meant to."

Aslan opened his eyes, his gaze hardening. He had never been meant for that life. His father's world was one of deals and contracts, of boardrooms and meetings. Aslan had never been able to stand it. He needed action, danger, something more than the sterile world of corporate power his father thrived in. His father had called it rebellion, but Aslan knew it was more than that. It was survival. He couldn't live in a cage, no matter how luxurious that cage might be.

"I'll come soon, Mama," he said again, trying to soften his tone for her sake.

"You say that every time," she said quietly, and he could almost see the sadness in her eyes.

Before she could say anything else, Sahar stood up from the bench, glancing around the park as if she had sensed something. His entire body went on alert. Was she aware of him? Did she feel the weight of his gaze?

"I have to go," Aslan said abruptly, his voice firm. "I'll call you later."

"Aslan, wai—"

But he ended the call before his mother could finish her sentence. His focus was entirely on Sahar now. She had started walking again, her movements graceful but a little hurried, as if something was making her uneasy. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she kept glancing over her shoulder, as though she felt eyes on her. But each time she looked, she saw nothing—just families, children, couples enjoying the park.

Aslan remained hidden in the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to step out, to let her know that she wasn't alone, that he was there, watching over her. But he couldn't. Not yet. There was too much at stake.

As she neared the park's exit, the streetlights flickered on, casting a soft glow over the path. Sahar's pace quickened, and he could see her discomfort growing. She was uneasy, and it was his fault. He was the one watching her, causing her to feel this way, but he couldn't help it. She was a beacon to him, and he was helpless to stay away.

His phone buzzed again, but this time he ignored it. Whatever his mother wanted, it could wait. His world had narrowed down to one person, and that was Sahar.

She reached the street and paused, glancing around as though she sensed something was off. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled out her phone, checking for messages or calls. But there was nothing. With a deep breath, she continued walking down the sidewalk, her steps faster now, more purposeful. She was trying to shake the feeling of being watched, but she couldn't.

Aslan followed her, his body tense, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he should stop, that he should turn around and walk away. But he couldn't. He was bound to her in a way he didn't understand, a way that frightened him. She was his light, and he was a man who had lived in darkness for so long that he didn't know how to be anything else.

But with her, he wanted to try.