I'm sure you've heard a lot about unrequited love, but what if I say there exists an unwilling love, hidden somewhere between the echoes of silence and the whispers of the heart's secrets? A love that fights to stay buried, yet yearns to be discover...
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๑ 🥀 ๑
Amaan sat outside Zumar's hospital room, staring blankly at the floor while the steady beep of the heart monitor hummed faintly from inside. His fingers press against his temple, trying to push back the dull ache forming there. Sleep had been out of reach, and stress had settled into his bones. But just as he allowed himself a moment to breathe, a firm voice cut through his thoughts.
"Mr. Amaan, we need a word."
His gaze lifted to see two officers standing before him, their postures were stiff with authority. Amaan exhaled heavily before pushing himself up from the chair. Without a word, he followed them down the corridor, further away from Zumar's room.
One of the officers flipped open a small notepad, glancing up at Amaan. "Do you recognize the name Adnan?"
Amaan frowned. "No." His voice was clipped, impatient. "Who is that?"
The officer exchanged a brief glance with his partner before answering, "From the recovered voice recording in the house. The name Adnan was mentioned. We were hoping you could shed some light."
Amaan scoffed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I don't know any Adnan. If you're expecting me to magically recall someone I've never met, you're wasting your time."
The officers give him a skeptical look.
"If you're here to accuse me of planting microphones now, then maybe take a look at your leads again." Amaan's jaw tightened. "Have you even figured out who left the damn thing?"
The officer didn't flinch. "The signals traced back to a laptop set up in the study of that house. It was receiving data from the mic. But the system is encrypted, and our team is still working on cracking it."
Amaan scoffed. "Of course it is." He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "So basically, you know nothing yet."
The officers ignored his sarcasm. Instead, one of them glanced toward Zumar's hospital room. "We need to question Mrs. Zumar as well."
Amaan's expression darkened. "Why?"
"There are... inconsistencies we need to clear up," the officer said carefully. "Specifically regarding her relationship with Rashed."
The name sent a ripple of tension through Amaan's body, his jaw tightening. "What about him?"
The officer hesitated before continuing. "From what we've gathered, they were more than just acquaintances before her marriage."
Amaan's gaze turned sharp. "You're saying it like she was having an affair."
"We're not making any assumptions yet," the officer replied. "We just need her version of the story."
Amaan's hands curled into fists, but after a long pause, he stepped aside and nodded stiffly. "Fine. But if she's uncomfortable, this interrogation ends immediately."
