Sahira stood motionless, scanning the area for her children. She had long since numbed herself to Arsalan's unpredictable, often psychotic behavior. Acceptance wasn't a choice—it was survival.
Once, she had considered herself strong, and independent. After her father's death, she had been the one to shoulder responsibility, the one who had to become the man of the house, looking after her family while pushing her own fears aside. She had learned to handle everything on her own.
But moving to USA changed everything.
The unfamiliar streets, the foreign culture, the loneliness—it had stripped her of control, making her vulnerable in ways she had never imagined. Suddenly, she felt lost, like a fish out of water, gasping for something familiar, something steady.
And Arsalan had stepped in, fitting perfectly into the gaps of her life.
At first, it was subtle—the way he handled things so effortlessly, the way he made her feel secure when everything else felt foreign and unstable. But before she knew it, he had become inevitable. Everything she couldn't do, he did. Every time she faltered, he stepped in. Slowly, without realizing it, he had wiped all her troubles as if they never existed.
She loved him.
And with that love had come a fear—an unbearable, paralyzing fear.
What if Arsalan suddenly disappeared from her life?
At first, the thought of losing him terrified her. Then, there came a time when she wished he would disappear from hers
A gentle breeze brushed against her skin, pulling her out of her thoughts. A frown creased her forehead as she felt Arsalan move closer.
Before she could react, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest. She stiffened, confusion flickering across her features. What was he doing?
"Please don't do anything to her."
His voice was low, careful, but something in his tone—something unsteady—made her glance up.
"I found her after five years," Arsalan continued, his grip subtly tightening. "I don't want to lose her again. My family and kids... they have nothing to do with this."
Sahira's brows furrowed. Who was he talking to?
Her gaze followed his, subtly shifting towards the crowd.
That's when she saw them.
Two men.
They blended in perfectly, dressed like any other mall-goers, but their presence felt off. They weren't shopping. They weren't talking. They weren't looking at anything—except Arsalan.
Sahira felt her stomach drop.
Had they been following them all this time?
Arsalan had noticed them too. His body tensed against hers, but his face remained unreadable.
"I don't know who you are," Arsalan murmured under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper, "but you're wrong. I have nothing to do with what you're after."
His fingers pressed against Sahira's arm, securing her closer.
"Svetlana is dragging me into this," he continued, his voice sharper now, more desperate. "I'm telling you the truth. She is forcing me into her world. Please, believe me."
A soft gasp escaped Sahira as she lifted her head to look at him.
"Arsalan..." she whispered.
But before he could respond, the line went dead.
YOU ARE READING
Mafia Captured
Spiritual"Leave me!" she screeched, her nostrils flaring, her face defiant even as her eyes betrayed her terror. His frown deepened, the momentary softness evaporating. Anger-or perhaps frustration-returned to his face like a mask snapping back into place. H...
