𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚

58.

"𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓼"
-𝓐𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓫𝓪

"I know yours, and she knows mine."

The words kept circling like poison in Arsalan's head.

When the past shows up uninvited—dressed in a sharp suit, wearing a smug grin, and looking at your wife like she belongs to him in some way—it doesn't just knock. It crashes in. Loud. Brazen. Disrespectful.

Danish didn't need to say much. Just a glance at Sofia across the room, a curl at the edge of his lips, and that cryptic message that made Arsalan want to break something. They've shared something. And Arsalan didn't know what the hell it was between them.

That—that was what drove him insane.

The image of Danish at the party replayed behind Arsalan's eyes like a cursed film. His arm brushing too close to Sofia. His gaze—too familiar. The way his entire presence screamed of something unspoken between them. And the worst part? Sofia didn't deny it. The shock that radiated through her was too clear upon seeing him was a proof itself. She was frozen. Pale. Quiet. Like the ground beneath her had cracked open.

Her entire aura had changed. The softness in her eyes had dulled. Her poise had faltered. That glow he adored had flickered out in seconds. Something between them—between her and him—had ended painfully.

And Arsalan couldn't take it.

The thought of Danish ever laying the slightest claim to her—even before Arsalan knew her—felt like glass shredding through his insides. He knew he had no right to feel this way. Everyone has a past. But as much as he knows Danish... if he ever was part of Sofia's life once...he knows how worse of an experience that would have been. Because that man had never protected anything precious in his life, and that confirmed the way the air felt bitter between them when he had come and stood next to Sofia.

Arsalan's jaw tightened at the idea of Sofia once being hurt by Danish. His fists clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles burned white. Rage bubbled beneath his skin, clawing for release. He didn't want to just confront Danish. He wanted to ruin him.

And what scared him most? This wasn't about rivalry anymore. This was personal. Sofia was his now, and the idea of Danish returning back hinted at something unreadable or maybe something he didn't want to acknowledge.
******
Sofia's heart hadn't calmed since the party. Since him. Since Danish.

And now... the silence in the car was deafening.

Arsalan hadn't said a word since slipping behind the wheel. Not even a glance. Just hands clenched on the steering, and the speedometer creeping higher. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. Ninety.

Her pulse matched every tick upward.

The world outside was a blur, but the tension inside this car? Thick. Suffocating. Alive.

She had seen Arsalan angry before—snapping at boardrooms, cold toward people who crossed him—but never like this. Not simmering. Not silent. Not this dangerous stillness that made her skin prickle.

She cast a sideways glance at him, and what she saw in his profile twisted her gut—tight jaw, dark eyes that were unreadable though they were focused on the road with hardened gaze.

Something inside her whispered: there is something wrong.

And then it clicked.

He knows Danny. Not just knows of him. Knows him. And not in a good way.