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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A/N: Important chapter ahead !!
The rain had stopped, but the world still smelled of it.
Damp soil clung to the soles of Shazal’s shoes, and the chill seeped through his bones as though the storm had left its residue inside of him.
He sat in the back of the car, shoulders pressed stiff against the leather seat, making the smell invade his senses, marking the onset of headache and nausea.
For a few fragile minutes after Adnan had shoved him inside, he had tried to convince himself it was the way to the airport. That he was being dragged into yet another displacement, another round of captivity, but perhaps alive.
He had told himself to focus on the thrum of the tires, the rhythm of the road, to breathe with it.
But the turns were wrong.
The time stretched too long.
Every curve of the car’s path gnawed at him, hollowing his stomach. He knew the roads obvious— tracing routes in his mind, memorizing distances by the sound of engines. And this… this wasn’t it.
He shifted slightly, peering through the tinted window, but the glass blurred everything. The world outside was only fragments—patches of fog thinning, smoke curling from wet earth, skeletal trees hunched in the dim light.
He tried to piece it together, but nothing aligned with hope.
A sudden jolt snapped him forward. The car lurched and stopped so violently his chest slammed against the front seat. He gasped, wind knocked out of him.
For a second, silence reigned—just the hiss of damp air pressing against the car’s frame.
The locks didn’t budge when he tried them. Panic surged as his fingers rattled the handle once, twice. He swallowed hard, tasting the metallic tang of fear at the back of his throat.
Adnan pulled the driver’s door open and stepped out. Boots squelched against wet mud, the sound sharp in the silence. Shazal’s breath fogged against the glass as he craned his neck to see. All he caught were blurred shadows beyond the tint.
Then came the voices out of his limited view.
Not one. Many. Barked, commanding. Footsteps pressed into the mud, forming a rhythm that didn’t belong to chance.
And then—
“Mr. ADNAN!”
The name cracked through the mist, deep, loud, an order wrapped in steel.
Shazal froze. His pulse thundered so hard it hurt. He knew that tone. Knew what it carried—authority, command. Police.
"You are under arrest for Identity Fraud, Murder and Abduction"
