My Heartbeat

Chapter 30

Haris got out of bed and headed toward the kitchen. Just as he neared the doorway, he noticed Diana coming down from her room, dressed in a silky golden night outfit with matching trousers. Her eyes scanned the area, realizing that everyone else seemed to be rushing around, getting ready for work.

As Haris entered the kitchen, Diana called out,

“Hey, you… who are you? Why are you here?”

Her voice was gentle, filled with curiosity and innocence. Haris looked at her, a small smile appearing as he replied,

“I’m here to keep you safe. My name is Henry… and I’m a friend of Jimin’s.”

Hearing Jimin’s name, Diana’s eyes softened with tears as memories rushed back.
“Is he okay? Does he… does he still care about me?”

she asked, her voice trembling.

Haris chuckled as he continued chopping vegetables for breakfast. “He can’t forget you,”
he said, his tone reassuring.

“That’s why I’m here—to help him protect you.”

Diana took a step closer to him, her eyes full of hope and tears.

“Is he really alright?” she asked softly.

Haris paused, the image of Jimin’s pain and guilt crossing his mind. “He’ll be fine when he knows you’re safe,” Haris replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

Suddenly, Diana reached out and grabbed his hand, her desperation clear. “Please… take me away from here, take me away .... from this hell” she pleaded, her eyes wide with fear.

Haris gently pulled his hand away.

“I’m Muslim,”

he said softly, as if to remind her of his boundaries.
“And don’t worry—I’m here to do just that, to help you.”

Diana blinked in confusion, then tilted her head. “But… you said your name was Henry. And now you say you’re Muslim?”

Haris smiled, amused by her innocence.

“My real name is Muhammad Haris,”

he explained, watching her reaction with a small grin.

Diana’s face brightened in understanding, and she gave him a thumbs-up. “Ohhh, okay then!” she replied, her tone playful as she headed off.

Haris watched her walk away, a chuckle escaping as he shook his head at her simplicity. Then, with a renewed focus, he turned back to preparing breakfast, a quiet determination settling over him.

In London,

Jimin’s eyes opened, and he glanced around his room. His eyes burned from all the tears, and his body felt drained, still heavy with sadness. He realized he had fallen asleep on his prayer mat after Fajr. Lost in his thoughts, he was brought back by a knock at his door.

“Yes?”

Jimin called out, his voice thick and heavy with the weight of his emotions.

“Sir, may I come in?” the maid asked.

“No,” Jimin replied, his tone still low and tired.

The maid continued, “Sir, it’s 8:30 a.m. I just wanted to check if you’ll be going to the office today, and about breakfast…”

“I’m not going in today. Please inform my secretary,” he responded quietly. “And send breakfast to my room. Thank you.”

The maid left,
and Jimin stood up, heading to the bathroom.