Forever His

Chapter 75: Silent Wishes

Mahnoor's POV:

I sit at my desk, staring at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, but I've been typing the same sentence for the past ten minutes. My eyes keep drifting to my handbag, perched on the chair beside me, as if it holds all the answers and all the troubles in the world. My chest tightens just thinking about the bracelet inside. Who sent it? Why? And more importantly—how did they know where to find me?

I shake my head and try to focus, but it's useless. My thoughts are a mess, a knot I can't untangle. I should tell Shahmeer. He has a right to know. But I don't dare. The moment he finds out, there's no telling what he might do. He's fiercely protective—sometimes to a fault—and I know this will push him over the edge. Whoever sent that package will face his wrath, and I'm not ready to deal with the fallout.

"Sweetheart?" Shahmeer's voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. I look up to see him leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes studying me intently. "You okay? You seem... troubled."

I force a smile, but I know it doesn't quite reach my eyes. "No, I'm fine," I lie, lowering my gaze to avoid his piercing stare. "Just have a little bit of a headache."

His eyebrows draw together, his expression instantly shifting to concern. He straightens up, leaning forward on his desk. "A headache? Why didn't you say anything earlier?" His voice is laced with worry, and I can see him mentally going through a checklist of remedies. "Do you want to eat something? Or maybe we should go home. You need rest."

"No, no, don't worry," I say quickly, waving my hand to dismiss his suggestion. The last thing I need is for him to fuss over me more than he already does. "I'll be fine. I just need some chai."

Before I can even finish my sentence, he's already picking up the office phone. "Two chai—one with less sugar," he says firmly, then hangs up, his attention back on me. "It'll be here in a minute."

I smile faintly, grateful but still too distracted to fully appreciate his thoughtfulness. The box in my bag feels like it's burning a hole through the leather. "I'll be right back," I say, grabbing a file from my desk. "I just need to give this to Farjaad."

Shahmeer leans back in his chair, his gaze still heavy on me. "Okay," he says, but I can tell he's not convinced that I'm fine. 

I quickly make my way out of the office, my heartbeat loud in my ears. As I walk down the corridor, I clutch the file tightly, trying to steady my nerves. I need to get it together. I can't let this thing—whatever it is—consume me.

                                                                                  ___________

I step into Farjaad's office with the report file in hand, closing the door behind me. The room smells faintly of coffee and his signature cologne—clean and crisp. Farjaad is seated at his desk, glasses perched on his nose as he types away on his laptop. He looks up when he hears me, a welcoming smile lighting up his face.

"Mahnoor, good timing," he says, pushing his chair back and gesturing for me to sit. "You've got the Italy hotel file?"

I nod, handing it over as I take a seat. "Yes, I reviewed it. Construction's progressing, but the timeline's cutting it close."

He flips through the file, nodding as he scans the details. "Hmm, true. The Italian architects are doing an excellent job, but there's some back-and-forth regarding permits near the Amalfi Coast. We'll need to address that in the next meeting."

I lean forward, my elbows resting on the desk. "It's crucial we keep the designs authentic while meeting the deadlines. Maybe we could arrange for someone from legal to fly out and expedite the permits?"