Forever His

Chapter 91: Just us

Mahnoor's POV:

I hear the door burst open, and I don't even have to look up to know it's him. His presence wraps around the room like a storm — heavy, loud, suffocating. My heart stutters painfully in my chest. I don't want to see him. I can't.

"Mahnoor," he breathes out like he's been chasing me for miles.

"Get out," I say through clenched teeth, turning away from him, trying to hold on to whatever's left of my crumbling strength.

He doesn't move. Of course he doesn't. "Please. Just listen—"

I spin around, rage blinding me. "GET OUT!" I scream, shoving him with both hands. He barely moves, just stands there, taking it, and something inside me snaps.

I hit him. Hard. My fists pound into his chest, one after another. I don't care how much it hurts me. I want it to hurt him. I want him to feel even a fraction of what I'm feeling. I hit him again and again, screaming through my sobs.

"You lied to me!"

He says nothing.

"You made me love you—and the whole time, it was a deal? A contract?! Was I just part of your business plan?!"

He just stands there. Silent. Crying. Letting me scream, letting me throw all the weight of my heartbreak against him.

"You had every chance to tell me, and you didn't! You let me think—you let me believe—that what we had was real! You let me fall, Shahmeer!"

My fists tremble against his chest now, weaker than before. My throat is raw, tears streaming down my face like a waterfall with no end. "You said you loved me," I whisper, broken. "You said you loved me."

"I do," he whispers back, his voice hoarse and low. "I love you more than I know how to explain."

I want to believe him. God, I want to. But all I feel is betrayal and humiliation and this unbearable ache in my soul that won't let up.

I press my forehead against his chest, sobbing. I don't have the strength to keep fighting. I don't even realize I've stopped hitting him until my hands drop to my sides, limp and heavy. His arms move to hold me, but I flinch away, stepping back like his touch might burn me.

"Don't," I whisper.

"Please, Mahnoor," he says, broken. "Please. Can we just sit? Can we talk about this—just... just give me five minutes. Please just hear me out."

I look up at him, and the sight guts me. Tears fall freely down his cheeks. His face is pale, eyes red, lips trembling. He looks nothing like the man who walked into my life with cold eyes and a guarded heart. He looks like a man stripped of everything — dignity, pride, peace — all for love.

But it still hurts.

So I turn away. I don't say yes. I don't say no.

I just sit on the edge of the bed, my back to him, tears still silently falling.

And I wait. For the apology I deserve. For the truth I was denied. For whatever comes next.

I sit on the edge of the bed, facing the window, knees tucked under my chin. The tears have dried now, but my chest still feels like it's cracking open, bit by bit, like a house caving in from its own weight.

Behind me, Shahmeer's breathing is uneven. Heavy. Hesitant.

"Tell me," I whisper without turning around. "Tell me everything."