LOVE WITHOUT DESTINY

part 36

The morning air was cool, almost comforting-but inside Amal's heart, a storm was rising.

She knew.
Today, she was going to court with Zain.
He hadn't told her much, like always. But this time... she could feel it. Something was different. Something big was about to happen.

Amal sat silently at the edge of her vanity, dressed in a dark blue outfit. A delicate white scarf slid off her shoulders, her eyes heavy with unspoken questions. A quiet sadness filled the room, but her heart was screaming-What is Zain planning?

The door creaked open behind her.

She didn't have to turn.
She felt him.

Zain stepped inside, dressed sharply in all black. There was something powerful in the way he carried himself today-like time itself moved with him. His eyes found hers through the mirror. No smile. No words.

He walked to her slowly.

Amal's breath caught in her throat when his fingers gently touched her neck from both sides. Cold. Intentional. Possessive. Her body stiffened.

She wanted to speak-but the weight of the moment pressed against her chest. She couldn't.

Zain tilted her head slightly, forcing her to face him. Then, softly... reverently... he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. A kiss that wasn't just a kiss-it was a promise, a warning, or maybe... something more.

Then, in a low voice that rumbled straight through her bones, he whispered:

"Let's go."

No explanation. No reassurance. Just those two words.
And somehow, that was enough to break her heart wide open.

---

The heavy door of the police station creaked as Malik Saqib stepped inside. His presence was cold, calculated, commanding. His gaze scanned the room.

Different officers.

Not the ones he'd last seen here.
He paused for a brief second, scanning the room with a faint smirk playing on his lips. The officers noticed him-and instantly straightened their backs, alert, cautious. They knew exactly who had just stepped in.

Malik Saqib liked that.
Respect rooted in fear.

He didn't waste time.

"I need to speak to my son. Alone," he said, voice calm but laced with authority.

The senior-most officer nodded once and gestured silently for the others to leave. Within seconds, the room emptied.

Only silence remained.

And Sam.

The officer unlocked the cell.

With a metallic click, the door opened.

Malik Saqib walked inside slowly — like a predator stepping into its territory.

Sam sat on the edge of the bench, his wrists bruised, his hair messy, but his eyes-sharp, bloodshot, and unblinking-locked on his father.

The tension between them was thick. Electric.

Malik Saqib stopped right in front of the bars, folding his hands behind his back. He tilted his head slightly, voice low.

"You will be very careful today."
His words were precise. Measured. Dangerous.
"When you're in court, you will not say a word that ruins what I've built."

Sam didn't move. Didn't blink.
Just stared.

"You will not confess. You will not try to be noble. And you will not destroy your future by playing the hero."
His voice sharpened with each word.
"If you do... forget ever leaving this country. I'll bury you alive in it."