Sahira lay on the bed beside Arsalan, her body heavy with exhaustion, yet sleep remained distant. The ceiling above blurred in her vision as her thoughts churned, restless and unyielding.
Maybe she was waiting for him to fall asleep so she could slip away—back to her children, back to the only comfort she knew.
Arsalan, propped on his elbow, watched her in silence. His dark eyes traced her features, searching for something, anything, that still belonged to him.
She was here. With him.
And yet, something about it felt... wrong.
Like a child who had found his lost toy but sensed it would be snatched away again.
That same feeling from years ago coiled in his chest.
The feeling that had begun the day Sahira learned his truth.
He had thought time would fix it, that she would grow used to him, that she would forgive him. But she never did.
And that realization festered in him like an unhealed wound.
At first, he had ignored it. Her presence alone had been enough. But over time, it started to gnaw at him—how her smiles never returned, how her eyes never held warmth for him again.
She never looked at him the way she once did.
Only disgust.
Sahira could hear his breathing—steady, measured, deliberate.
Then she felt it.
A touch.
His fingers closed around her wrist, warm and firm. Not forceful, but unmistakably possessive.
She didn't flinch. She didn't react.
She simply lay there, hollow and unfeeling, as though her soul had already left and only her body remained.
There was no strength left in her limbs, no will to fight anymore.
What was the point?
She had already lost.
He held all the power, while she was trapped in his grasp—powerless.
Her stomach twisted. Not with affection. No, this wasn't love. This was control.
She forced herself to keep breathing, to focus on something—anything—other than his presence beside her.
His breath brushed against her skin, slow and taunting. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Can't you love me like before?" Arsalan's voice was quiet, his tone unreadable.
Sahira exhaled shakily, her pulse a roaring tide in her ears.
"Old times?" she whispered.
Her gaze darted away, unable to meet his.
The past. The illusion of what once was.
She felt herself unraveling—caught in the web of memories, unable to tell if they were her savior or her destruction.
-----
Past
Sahira walked through the college gate, her steps light but deliberate. As she reached the entrance, she turned and smiled at Arsalan.
He smiled back.
But he didn't move.
He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes following her until she disappeared into the sea of students, her figure blending seamlessly into the crowd.
YOU ARE READING
Mafia Captured
Espiritual"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...
