In the Heart of Darkness

Chapter 50: Pain

Sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long! I've been caught up with a hectic work routine and university. To make it up to you, I've decided to upload a longer chapter this time. Thank you so much for your constant love and support—it truly means the world to me. Please don't forget to vote and share your thoughts in the comments! Now enough of my rambling. 

Enjoy reading! 💖

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The silence in Ibrahim's grand estate was haunting, a sharp contrast to the storm raging within him. He sat in his office, surrounded by high-tech monitors and security feeds that displayed nothing but dead ends. His normally pristine suit was crumpled, his tie loosened, and dark circles under his eyes told the story of sleepless nights. His unkempt beard and bloodshot eyes gave him the look of a man on the brink of insanity.

His phone buzzed for the hundredth time that day, and he answered without looking. "What is it?" His voice was sharp, devoid of patience.

The head of Police department, hesitated. "Sir, we've checked all the vehicles near the hospital on that day. There's... there's nothing new. Whoever took her planned this well. We're still working on tracing her location."

Ibrahim slammed his fist on the desk, making the phone tremble in his grip. "You've been saying this for months! Do I need to hire an entirely new team? Or maybe I should asked the Commissioner to dismissed all the police officers since you're all useless!"

"Sir, please—"

"Don't. Just don't," Ibrahim barked and ended the call, tossing the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, but the sound barely registered. He buried his face in his hands, his chest heaving with uneven breaths.

Zara's laugh echoed in his memory, her voice teasing him during their breakfast not long before this nightmare began. He could almost feel her soft touch on his arm, the way she'd look at him with that mixture of hope and love. But now, all he could picture was her face contorted in fear, calling out for him while he wasn't there to save her.

"Zara..." he whispered brokenly, his voice cracking.

The door creaked open, and Aiza (Zaviyar's wife) whom Ibrahim always treated as his sister,  stepped in cautiously. Her face was pale, her eyes red from crying. "Ibrahim Bhai.. you need to eat something. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry," he growled without looking at her.

"You've been saying that for weeks! You're going to kill yourself at this rate," she argued, her voice trembling.

"Maybe I deserve it," he snapped, finally looking at her. "I let this happen. I wasn't there when she needed me. I failed her."

Aiza's eyes filled with tears. "Don't say that. You're doing everything you can. She would want you to stay strong, to keep fighting."

"I don't even know if she's alive!" Ibrahim shouted, his voice raw with pain. "Do you know what it feels like to imagine her in pain? To think of her alone, scared, waiting for me, and I can't find her? Every second feels like torture!"

Aiza stepped back, her hand over her mouth, sobbing silently.

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Ibrahim stood abruptly, pushing past her. "I'm going out. Tell Zaviyar to take a rest today. I'm sorry I have kept him occupied with me"

Aiza shook her head and called after him, but he ignored her. He needed air, space, anything to stop the suffocating weight on his chest.

The city streets blurred as Ibrahim sped through them in his car. The world outside was oblivious to his turmoil, moving on as if nothing had happened. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.