Chapter 21
The mehndi function was at the farmhouse.
All the family members had already reached there—only Aahil wasn't with them. Nobody knew where he had gone.
Bilal Sahab was discussing the decoration with the manager. In the big lawn, workers were moving here and there.
Hoorain, who was heading toward her room after listening to Bi Jaan, was stopped midway by one of the workers.
"Madam…"
Hoorain, lost in her own thoughts, turned at his call and looked at him with questioning eyes.
"Madam is calling you over there…"
Hearing him, Hoorain looked at him in surprise.
"Which madam?"
The worker grew nervous at her question, though Hoorain didn't notice it.
"Madam, you can see for yourself… I don't know the name."
At his reply, Hoorain nodded and followed him.
She was walking behind the worker when she suddenly stopped—because the place he was leading her to was deserted. It was at the back of the farmhouse, a place that was mostly locked. Muskan had once told her about it. A strange uneasiness filled her.
The worker, not noticing her hesitation, kept walking straight.
Slowly, Hoorain began turning back to leave when she bumped into someone.
Before she could regain balance or even understand, the person behind her pressed a cloth over her mouth.
She struggled to free herself, but darkness clouded her eyes, leaving her powerless.
"You may leave now. Your work ends here. And here's the rest of your money."
Holding the unconscious Hoorain gently in his arms, the man pulled out a check from his pocket and handed it to the worker standing before him.
The worker snatched it quickly and left.
"The time isn't far when Aahil will leave you… then I'll have you completely to myself."
Looking at her face, the man spoke with an intoxicated tone. His voice carried the joy of someone who was certain of success.
He carefully carried her into one of the nearby rooms, where Mehak was already waiting.
Seeing him enter with her, Mehak quickly moved toward him.
"Fahad… are you sure this plan will work? What if someone comes here?"
Mehak was utterly anxious.
Fahad smiled at her words. He gently laid Hoorain on the bed, adjusted her position, and sat beside her.
"It will work a hundred percent. Anyway, this place always remains deserted. People think it's haunted. No one dares to come here."
Though he was talking to Mehak, his eyes remained fixed on Hoorain's innocent, flawless face.
"Hmmm… how long until she regains consciousness?"
Casting poisonous glances at the unconscious girl, Mehak's heart burned with jealousy. She looked so beautiful even in unconsciousness. Her voice dripped with venom.
Fahad turned to her sharply.
"Two, maybe three hours… and it will be better for you to keep your venomous eyes away from her."
Fahad clearly didn't like the way Mehak was looking at Hoorain.
"Okay, okay… then what's the next step?"
She knew it wasn't wise to clash with him at this point. Their goal was the same after all. So, to calm him down, she asked softly.
"I'll handle that. For now, you leave."
At his words, Mehak left in anger.
"Soon, Sleeping Beauty… soon."
Fahad stroked her cheek lightly, stood up, locked the door, and left.
Now, all that was left was to wait for Aahil.
---
He had gone to pick up Diyan from Sharjeel.
But soon, they got into an argument.
"Aahil, have you lost your mind? Today's your mehndi! If Daaji sees this, he'll stop the function and throw you out of the house!"
Sharjeel tried once again to make him understand, as he had been trying for days. But Aahil refused to back down.
"They've never really supported me anyway. They gave me everything, except trust.
If only they had listened to me that day, this three-year gap wouldn't have existed. I had accepted their decision, I even went ahead with the nikah… then why this neglect?
How many lives were destroyed… three! That innocent girl, her mother, and me.
Three years, Sharjeel. You and I both have been searching for the girl who lied to Daaji. And what came of it? Neither we found her, nor could I prove to Daaji that I was innocent.
I'm tired, Sharjeel… tired of seeing myself a stranger in their eyes."
The dam of patience finally burst. Everything he had been suppressing for years came out in an eruption of pain. Seeing his state, Sharjeel grew worried.
"Look, this is my promise to you… that girl will come herself. She will tell the truth with her own mouth."
Placing a hand on his shoulder, Sharjeel made a heartfelt promise.
He didn't know that very soon fate was about to give him the chance to fulfill that promise… though he had no idea how difficult it would be to keep it once the truth was in front of him.
Aahil rubbed his face with his hands, trying to compose himself. It wasn't easy.
"You're bringing Diyan here tomorrow, no matter what. Otherwise, I'll do it myself."
Aahil's tone was firm.
"But that—"
Sharjeel began, but Aahil silenced him with a raised hand.
"I'm listening to you for today. But tomorrow, you must bring Diyan here—at any cost."
His words were final. Sharjeel knew arguing further was pointless, so he stayed quiet.
"Baba…"
The frightened little voice made Aahil realize what they had forgotten—Diyan was still there.
Hearing his son's trembling tone, guilt and anger tore at him. The child must have been scared by his outburst.
Aahil quickly composed himself, sat down on his knees before the boy, and opened his arms.
But Diyan didn't move toward him, too afraid.
So, Aahil picked him up himself, holding him tightly against his chest.
"Yes, Baba's life… are you angry with Baba?"
Kissing his forehead lovingly, he asked softly.
"Scared…"
The boy whispered, hiding his face in his father's chest. His tiny body trembled in Aahil's strong arms.
Aahil already knew. Yet he asked, gently rocking him.
"Scared of whom, my love?"
"…Baba."
"What should Baba do, so his little life isn't scared of him anymore?"
He asked with warmth, trying to win back his trust.
This time, Diyan didn't answer. Aahil tilted his face up—and saw that the boy had fallen asleep in his arms.
A rare sense of peace washed over him.
He kissed his forehead once more.
"Aahil, you need to go now. It's your mehndi tonight."
Sharjeel's reminder made him nod. Carefully, he laid Diyan in his bed, then left with Sharjeel.
---
When his car drove in, Fahad—waiting for him on the terrace—smirked evilly.
It was time to take the most important step.
Hoorain was about to regain consciousness soon, and before that, he needed to act fast.
He texted Maria and walked to the back of the house.
"Aahil, I need to talk to you… it's very important."
Mehak, having received Fahad's message, immediately approached Aahil as he entered.
"What is it?"
Wearing white shalwar kameez with a black waistcoat, he looked so breathtaking that Mehak found it hard to take her eyes off him.
"Not here… come with me."
She walked toward the back rooms, quickly texting Fahad a confirmation.
Inside, Fahad was already waiting.
Seeing her message, he grinned wickedly and turned to Hoorain, who was starting to stir.
"Come on, Sleeping Beauty… let's start the game."
He deliberately left the door half open so sounds could easily escape.
"Hoor… don't worry. I'm here with you."
Holding her shoulders, he drew her against him. Still half-conscious, she couldn't understand what was happening. Her head throbbed painfully.
"What is it? Speak quickly."
Aahil, growing impatient with Mehak's silence, urged her coldly.
"I don't know if you'll believe me or not… but I still want to tell you."
Twisting her fingers nervously, she put on a worried face.
"Say it already… or I'm leaving."
His tone grew harsher. Her riddling words annoyed him.
"That day when we went shopping… I saw Hoor secretly signaling to some boys behind her.
And just two days ago, I saw her talking with Fahad. And today—"
She broke off, gauging his reaction. But Aahil's face remained unreadable, leaving her uncertain.
"Today what?"
Inside, Fahad boiled with rage, but outwardly, he stayed calm.
"And today… I saw her again with Fahad. They were supposed to meet here.
Aahil, I love you… and I can't keep you in the dark anymore. Hoor is a bad girl. She doesn't deserve you."
With an innocent expression, she delivered her lie so convincingly that it didn't even sound false.
At the mention of her supposed love, Aahil's face darkened with disgust. He didn't even try to hide it.
But then Fahad's voice reached his ears.
Startled, Aahil followed the sound to a half-open door.
When he entered, the sight before him made his veins bulge with fury.
His body burned with rage.
There was Hoor… her head resting on Fahad's shoulder. Their backs were to the door, so he couldn't see their faces.
"My love, I know how much you care for me. Very soon, you'll leave that monster Aahil and come to me…"
Sensing Aahil behind him, Fahad deliberately spoke louder.
By now, Hoor had fully regained consciousness. She understood everything.
She panicked at finding herself in his grasp—and when she heard those words, her world shook apart.
She struggled to free herself just as Aahil's furious roar shook the room.
"Enough!"
She turned—and froze.
Aahil's eyes blazed with fire. His furious gaze seared through her.
Her knees buckled, her head pounded from pain, and she would have fallen—if Fahad hadn't caught her.
But Aahil stormed forward, seized her by the arm, and yanked her away with such force that she staggered.
"I'll deal with you later."
Pointing a finger at Fahad in warning, he dragged Hoor out with long, furious strides.
His grip was so tight she felt her arm would snap.
"What will happen now?"
After they left, Mehak approached him.
"Now… Aahil will do the rest. Our job was to spark the fire. He'll fan the flames himself."
With a devilish grin, Fahad sat cross-legged on the bed.
---
"Baji, I've been looking for you everywhere. Come quickly, the parlour girls are here."
Muskan finally found Hoor with Aahil and sighed in relief.
"Muskan, doll… I need to talk to your Baji. You come later."
Aahil tightened his grip on Hoor's arm.
He had mastered his tone and expression so well that Muskan couldn't sense the storm beneath.
But Hoor could.
She was certain her arm would break. Pain throbbed so badly her whole face turned red. Tears welled in her eyes.
"Ahh…"
A helpless cry escaped her lips.
"Baji, are you okay?"
Muskan hurried toward her.
"Muskan, go bring some water. I'll take your bhabhi to my room."
Assigning her a task, he pulled Hoor along to his room.
Once inside, he released her arm only to grip her jaw, forcing her face close to his.
The terror in his eyes froze her.
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
"Right now, I feel like burying you alive."
His words, spoken through clenched teeth, made her suffocate.
"But no… that would be too little. The real pleasure lies in watching you burn slowly, not ending it all at once."
His mocking tone ended with a chilling laugh.
"Please… you're misunderstanding. It's not like that."
She managed to whisper, trying desperately to explain.
"Oh, you're right. I misunderstood you. But now I've understood completely."
He emphasized each word, his eyes spitting contempt and sparks that threatened to consume her.
"Get out! Disappear from my sight—before I truly kill you!"
Shoving her toward the door, his roar filled the soundproof room.
Had the walls not been soundproof, the entire house would have gathered outside.
Barely steadying herself, Hoor staggered out with tears streaming down her face.
Such humiliation… better he had killed her instead.
But she didn't know—this was only the beginning.
---
Mehndi Special
The function had started. Everyone was congratulating Agha Jaan. Since the nikah had already taken place, the mehndi function was also a combined one.
Aahil was standing with his acquaintances, talking to them. Hoor had not arrived yet.
On his arrogant face, there was an unusual seriousness. With his royal demeanor, dressed in a mehndi-colored kurta and white shalwar, he stood like the king of a kingdom. His face carried no trace of the incident that had happened earlier in the afternoon. And that very thing was making Fahad and Mehak restless.
A little while later, when the bride's arrival was announced, Aahil went and sat on the stage, fixing his gaze on the direction from where Hoor was being brought.
She wore a blue blouse with a yellow lehenga, which suited her delicate frame perfectly. Her face was hidden under a veil, so her expressions could not be seen.
When she reached near the stage, Aahil extended his hand toward her. Hesitating, she placed her delicate hand on his large palm.
Her hand was unnaturally cold. Aahil clearly felt the tremor running through it.
She was afraid of him. That very thought brought a bitter smile to his wine-red lips.
He pulled her up with a grip so tight that her already frightened heart sank even further into terror.
She was already worried, constantly thinking, If Aahil tells everyone, what will I do? How will I give explanations to so many? These thoughts had worn her out. Every time the door opened, she had jumped, thinking he might expose her. Only she knew how she had held herself together.
Aahil seated her beside him, then pressed her hand hard before letting it go. Hoor quickly hid her reddened hand in her lap.
She looked at her hand, now flushed red from his grip, and the tears she had been holding back began to fall, dropping onto the same hand.
Aahil noticed her crying.
"Stop this drama. If you don't shut up within moments, you yourself will be responsible for the consequences."
He leaned close to her ear, whispering with a smile but in a tone so harsh that Hoor felt a chill run down her spine. She quickly wiped her tears.
To the onlookers, it seemed as though Aahil had just whispered something loving to her.
Aahil's eyes drifted toward Fahad, whose face had darkened at the way Aahil had spoken to Hoor. A cold smile appeared on Aahil's lips. He knew exactly what he needed to do now.
Guests came one by one, gave mehndi and salami, and left.
"Now it's time to see the bride's face!" the cousins gathered around the stage, teasing him.
"Even if you hadn't said so, I would have done it myself," Aahil replied with playful boldness.
The younger crowd cheered loudly.
"That's the spirit!" the boys joined in, clapping for him.
"Alright then, let's see if you can manage that… after beating us," the girls giggled, blocking Hoor by standing in front of her.
"Oh, so that's how it is?" Aahil raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, exactly! And if you want to see the bride's face, there's one condition…" the girls stood together on one side while the boys crowded around Aahil.
"What condition?" one of the boys asked before Aahil could.
"A competition! If we win, you'll only see the bride's face tomorrow. If the boys win, then today!" Muskaan chirped brightly.
"Agreed," Ali spoke on behalf of the boys.
"We asked the groom, so we need the groom's answer," Muskaan teased with a testing smile.
"No problem. We're also future grooms and someone's prince charming," Ali shot back instantly, making the boys burst into laughter.
"Oh, now I understand why girls these days flutter around boys like you. Of course—you're their prince charming!" the girls squealed, cheering.
"Alright then, let's finalize. I agree to the condition," Aahil stepped in before things went too far.
The lights in the hall dimmed, leaving only the stage lit. All the guests turned their attention toward it. Girls sat on one side, boys on the other. Aahil stood with the boys, while Hoor stayed with the girls.
"There will be three rounds. First—charades. Second—mimicry. Third—dance. And no cheating!" Muskaan explained the rules.
The first round began with the boys, who unfortunately were given "Dilbar" to act out. The poor guy tried hard, dancing awkwardly to get his teammates to guess, but instead of guessing, they laughed at his moves.
Thus, the first round went to the girls.
Next was mimicry. The boys dominated this one, swaying and acting in sync with the music, and this round went to them.
Now came the final round—dance.
The girls adjusted their lehengas and stepped on stage. Muskaan, in a royal blue lehenga with her hair open and a natural makeup look, looked stunning.
The music started:
Ballay ballay ni dor punjaban di…
The girls danced in perfect coordination, showing the result of days of practice. The atmosphere filled with liveliness.
The boys, of course, didn't stay behind. They had already prepared for this moment, expecting the girls to perform. They jumped on stage, matching steps. Ali, in particular, was struggling to keep balance but still drew cheers.
Their performance brought laughter, whistles, and excitement. At one point, they even staged a horror prank—lights went out, creepy witch laughter echoed, and women screamed in fright. When the lights returned, the boys continued dancing as if nothing had happened, drawing even more laughter.
By the end, their humorous performance won them the round. The hall roared with applause.
Ali grabbed the mic. "It's been a long time since I heard the voices of those for whom I am the prince of dreams. So I thought—why not bring a little horror music to hear them scream again? And truly, it was a pleasure to meet you!"
He glanced mischievously at Muskaan before running off stage, laughing, as the girls glared at him with murderous eyes.
The boys had won.
Now it was time for Hoor's veil to be lifted.
The lights dimmed again and then brightened on the stage where Hoor and Aahil stood. Her veil was no longer covering her face.
Her hair was tucked in her hijab, her eyes and cheeks red from crying, and her delicate lips trembled as she caught Aahil's gaze. Even in that state, she looked so captivating it was hard to look away.
Aahil's eyes remained locked on her when a romantic song began to play.
He placed his hand firmly on her slender waist, pulling her close. He rested one of her hands on his shoulder while holding the other in his grip, moving her into a light couple's dance. His grip, however, was painfully tight.
To outsiders, it looked like a romantic dance. But only Hoor knew that she was enduring his harsh hold in silence.
Mehak and Fahad exchanged worried looks. They had expected Aahil to refuse the marriage, but seeing him seemingly content and smiling burned them with jealousy.
The dance ended with Aahil dipping Hoor dramatically, his cold eyes meeting her tearful ones.
Later that night, clouds gathered overhead and light rain began to fall as the guests departed.
"Hoor will go with me," Aahil told Bilal Sahib. Without waiting for a response, he took her to his car and drove off.
Bilal Sahib could only curse under his breath. Still, he consoled himself, thinking Aahil seemed happy.
Inside the car, silence prevailed. Hoor sat pressed against the door, terrified, while Aahil drove at a reckless speed, his grip on the steering wheel tight, his face stormy. He had hidden it well at the wedding, but now his suppressed fury boiled over.
The rain outside intensified. Suddenly, he stopped the car on a deserted road, halfway to the haveli.
"Without wasting any more time, take your unbearable existence out of my car," he spat, without even glancing at her.
Hoor's mind went blank. She stared at him in disbelief, then at the storm raging outside.
He didn't even realize what he was saying in his anger.
"Didn't you hear me? Get out!" he thundered so loudly that her breath caught, her heart nearly stopped. Pressed against the door, she sobbed uncontrollably.
"Looks like you won't understand otherwise…"
His bloodthirsty eyes glared at her as he got out, came around, yanked open her door, and roughly pulled her out into the rain.
"What are you doing?" her broken voice called after him as he got back into the car.
"You'll find out soon enough," he mocked coldly before speeding away, leaving her behind.
The road was deserted, no signs of life anywhere.
Hoor cast one helpless glance at the direction he had gone, before collapsing under a tree at the roadside. The rain soaked her clothes, clinging to her frame. She hugged herself tightly, burying her head in her knees.
She still couldn't believe Aahil had left her alone on the road… in the pouring rain.
Her head spun. She hadn't eaten all day. Everything that had happened weighed heavily on her mind. The burden finally pushed her into a daze, and she drifted into unconsciousness, still sitting against the tree.
Meanwhile, Aahil drove ahead, seething in anger, when he noticed a car approaching from the wrong side. Loud music blared from it. Four young men were inside, bottles of wine in their hands, laughing and bouncing to the beat.
He frowned as the car passed him, ignoring it at first. But then suddenly, his foot slammed the brake.
His heart froze.
How could I have made such a terrible mistake?
He spun the wheel sharply and turned the car back in the direction he had left Hoor.
Different thoughts were racing through his mind.
His heart thudded in unpleasant anticipation when he reached the spot where he had dropped Hoor off—only to find no one there.
And Hoor… where was she?
He hurriedly stepped out of the car, his restless eyes scanning the surroundings.
If he couldn't find her, he would never be able to face himself again.
He brushed his wet hair back from his forehead.
She couldn't have gone too far so quickly.
But what if something terrible had happened to her…
What if those boys in the car had taken her away?
Countless thoughts paralyzed his mind.
No… nothing will happen to her.
"Hoor!" reassuring himself, he shouted her name loudly.
There was no reply.
"Hoorain!" he called out again.
At that moment, all his anger…
All the scenes…
All the suspicions seemed to vanish far away.
The only thought left was that she should be safe.
It felt as though if she didn't appear before him now, his breath would stop, his heartbeat would cease.
"Hoor, please come out…" Exhausted, he fell to his knees on the ground.
Unmindful of the pouring rain, he sat there on the road, looking no less than a madman.
A man who had lost all sense…
A man who cared for nothing but his beloved.
The rain could give him a chill, but he didn't care.
The weight of his grave mistake pressed on him heavily.
After sitting in the rain for a long time, he finally got up, his defeated steps carrying him toward the car. Just then, his wandering gaze fell toward the trees along the roadside. He thought he saw a figure there. Moving closer, he realized—it was Hoor.
She sat with her legs drawn up, her head resting on her knees.
Seeing her, Aahil felt an overwhelming wave of relief rush through him, but along with it came worry—why hadn't she answered when he had been calling for her so long? What if his eyes hadn't caught sight of her there? But still… why hadn't she responded?
He crouched down in front of her.
"Hoor…" he called her name softly.
But the figure before him remained completely still.
"Hoor…" he tried again, this time placing his hand on her shoulder and giving her a light shake.
At his touch, she collapsed to one side.
Her face had turned deathly pale. Her lips were blue.
Aahil panicked at the sight of her condition.
He quickly pulled her close and grasped her wrist, checking her pulse. It was faint but still there.
For him, that was enough—that it was still beating.
Cradling her lifeless form gently in his arms, he hurried toward the car.
He placed her inside, switched on the heater immediately, and sat beside her, shivering himself from the rain.
Starting the car, he quickly dialed Muskaan's number. He was sure by now everyone must have returned to the haveli—or stopped somewhere on the way.
The call almost disconnected after ringing once. Frustrated, he dialed again, casting a worried glance at Hoor.
This time, after two or three rings, the call was answered.
"Hello…" came Muskaan's drowsy voice.
"Muskaan, my child… I need your help," Aahil's distressed voice jolted her awake instantly. Sleep vanished from her eyes.
---
Aahil sat holding Hoor's cold hand, his gaze fixed on her face.
Moments ago, her body had been trembling, but now, thanks to the warmth of the heater, the shivering had eased.
Holding her hand was his way of trying to give warmth to her cold fingers.
He had asked Muskaan to change Hoor's clothes, and in the meantime, he had changed his own as well.
Muskaan had gone to prepare coffee and something light to eat.
Though his eyes were on Hoor, Aahil's mind was tangled elsewhere.
He had ordered a man to keep an eye on Hoor, to find out why—after three years of never asking for divorce—she had suddenly taken such a step. That was the real reason he had gone there.
Then one day, that man had sent him some pictures.
In them, Hoor was seen in another man's arms.
(Those were actually from her accident, but the photographer had taken them in a way that made them look different.)
When he had called, an unknown man had answered her phone.
(That was the time when Hoor's phone had been left with Hannan.)
And then, seeing her rest her head on Fahad's shoulder…
As people say, a person always prefers to see things in their own colors. The photographer had intentionally sent the pictures in that manner to keep his income flowing.
Aahil, too, had taken those pictures at face value, interpreting every act of Hoor's through the lens of those suspicions.
His eyes had been blindfolded by misunderstanding. He had seen only one fragment and believed it as the whole truth.
Now, though, he didn't know what to think.
But one thing he did understand clearly—he could neither give her pain nor stay away from her.
Despite everything, his heart still longed for Hoor.
"Aahil bhai, here you go." Muskaan entered the room carrying a tray. Casting a glance at Hoor, she set the tray on the table beside him. On it were a cup of coffee, a few slices of bread, and warm milk.
"Thanks, gudiya. Just one more thing—could you bring me the medicines from my room? You know where they are, right?"
She nodded and left the room again.
"Hoorain…" he murmured, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature.
It was gradually returning to normal. Her body, once icy cold, was now slowly regaining warmth.
As he held her, Hoorain slowly opened her eyes, then closed them again. She was regaining consciousness, but her body was still too weak to move.
"Here, eat this…" Aahil lifted a slice of bread to her lips.
But Hoor lacked the strength to respond.
He gently propped up her head with a pillow and carefully fed her the slices and warm milk himself.
The entire time, he did not let go of her hand.
He treated her as though she were a fragile doll.
"Here, brother…" Muskaan returned with the medicine just as he was feeding her the milk.
Seeing the way Aahil was caring for Hoor brought a smile to her face.
"Thanks, gudiya. Alright, now I'll give her the medicine. If her condition worsens again, just give me a missed call."
He crushed the capsule and fed it to Hoor before leaving the room.
Suddenly, he remembered his coffee had been left behind, so he returned.
Muskaan was probably in the bathroom. As he bent to pick up his cup, his eyes fell on Hoor again.
Her lips were no longer blue, her complexion had regained its color, and her long black hair was spread loose across the pillow.
At that moment, she looked so innocent and beautiful that Aahil couldn't hold himself back.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
And before Muskaan could return, he quietly left the room.
He truly was… strange.
Today, he had come to the office with a special purpose—
a purpose that required Emma's presence.
He had reached the office earlier than usual.
At that moment, he was sitting in his chair, wearing a black suit. Unlike normal days, he hadn't picked up any files.
But his restless eyes kept glancing toward the direction from where she was supposed to arrive.
He checked the clock.
A few minutes before eight, he saw her coming from the other side.
Unlike other days, today he observed her carefully.
She wore a white, loose jersey with pants. Her brown eyes had red streaks in them. Her small nose and soft cheeks were unusually flushed. Her hair was tied in a bun, though a few strands had escaped and brushed against her cheeks.
John's heartbeat quickened. He immediately averted his gaze.
"Come to my office."
She had barely stepped into her cabin when the intercom rang. His order was given briefly, and the line went dead.
"Who told him—achoo—to drop in like a storm so early in the morning? Can't he—achoo—let me breathe peacefully for even two minutes? I just entered and—achoo—he's already calling me to his office…"
Grumbling in a low voice, cursing John between sneezes, she finally mimicked his tone and headed toward his room. After all, his orders had to be followed.
"Achoo… yes, sir."
Now she stood in front of John.
"You're coming with me."
He said seriously after casting her a single glance.
"But… achoo… where, sir?" She pulled the tissue away from her face and asked in confusion, her voice hoarse from her blocked throat.
John didn't reply. He just looked at her once and walked out, knowing she would follow. And that's exactly what happened.
Now she was sitting beside him in the car, glancing at him in puzzlement. He was well aware of it.
John took out his phone, dialed his lawyer's number, and held it to his ear.
"You're there already?"
Apparently, the call was answered.
"Alright. Wait there—we're coming."
Ending the call, he placed the phone on the dashboard, parked the car on one side, and turned fully toward her.
His face was calm, almost expressionless. His features were soft, but his blue eyes were icy cold.
"We're going to the hospital right now. Derrick is there, the lawyer is there, and our marriage will happen there."
He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, looking directly at her.
At first, Emma couldn't believe what she'd just heard. But when it sank in, her mind went blank.
"What do you mean… achoo… who told you… achoo… that I'll marry you?"
Her brown eyes sparked with fury as she glared at him, as if she could burn him alive with her rage.
"I do whatever I decide to do. Whether someone tells me to or not makes no difference. My job was to inform you, and I've done that."
He leaned back in the driver's seat, speaking with careless ease.
Emma sat stunned, staring at him.
"You've told me, and I've heard… achoo… but whether I act on it or not—that's my decision… achoo… and I won't."
She crossed her arms firmly across her chest.
(As if! What does he think of himself?)
"Okay. But first, look at this and tell me if you recognize him."
He casually held out his phone toward her. Emma had expected him to get angry at her refusal, but instead, he was calm.
She glanced at the screen, and her eyes widened. Her heartbeat nearly stopped.
She turned to John, who was already watching her—with a smile on his lips and a victorious gleam in his blue eyes, as if he knew she had lost.
Emma looked again at the screen.
There was Peter—tied to a chair, with a man pointing a gun at him.
That two-minute video shook her completely.
"You won't… do anything like this…"
Her helpless voice only deepened John's smile.
"You said what you had to. I heard it. Now, whether I act on it or not—that's up to me."
He repeated her own words back to her.
Helplessness burned through her, and tears welled up in her eyes. She understood exactly why John had shown her the video. But she refused to shed tears in front of him—she wouldn't let herself look weak.
Swallowing them back, she looked at John again.
Even in the black suit, his strong frame was evident. His auburn lips pressed together, a neatly trimmed beard across his face, and those blue eyes sparkling with triumph—he was undoubtedly handsome and charismatic. Countless girls must have dreamed of being with him.
But for Emma, he was nothing but torture.
John stared ahead, but he knew she was looking at him.
"Were you saying something?"
Turning to her, he asked mockingly, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
"I was saying… whatever you want, achoo…"
She spoke sweetly, though she was grinding her teeth in anger.
In truth, she loathed this man who had needlessly set his sights on her.
"Now that's more like it—a proper little girl's answer."
He lightly pinched her red nose, teasing her like a child.
Emma pulled his hand away with annoyance and turned her face aside, cursing him inwardly.
For now, that was all she could do.
---
The poor lawyer was fidgeting nervously, loosening his tie, wiping the sweat on his forehead—despite the cold weather.
The reason was the figure lying in front of him. Green eyes that seemed to scan him like an X-ray.
Compared to before, his complexion had improved.
"So, what brings you here?"
Derrick narrowed his eyes at him, his tone sharp.
"I… came to ask about your health…"
The lawyer was completely trapped. John had told him to come here and forbidden him from telling anyone.
"Is this how you check on someone's health?"
Derrick's eyes studied him from head to toe with suspicion, like a predator sizing up its prey. Everyone knew about Derrick's reputation. The lawyer himself had once been his victim, so his fear was justified.
"What do you mean?"
He glanced nervously at the door, silently praying for John to arrive soon.
"Oh, you don't know? Never mind. I'll tell you then."
Derrick was enjoying the man's panicked state.
"No, no, I know."
"Good. Then give it to me."
A mischievous glint lit up Derrick's eyes.
"Give what?"
The poor lawyer was utterly stuck.
"You just said you knew. Then why are you asking?"
Derrick asked with fake irritation, clearly amused.
"Yes… I know…"
The lawyer was desperate to get away from this man.
"Then go on, if you know. Otherwise, I'll tell you myself. No problem."
Derrick smirked, savoring his unease.
"Sir, I don't know anything… John told me to come here."
Finally, he blurted out the truth.
"Oh, relax, I never said anything. Have some juice."
The lawyer looked nervously at the juice Derrick had pointed out.
"Go on, drink. It's nothing."
Derrick approached slowly, as the glass was right beside him on the table.
"Now tell me, why did John call you here?"
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
Before the lawyer could say anything else in his panic, the door opened.
John entered, followed by Emma.
The lawyer sighed in relief.
Moments later, she walked in—wearing a blue short frock that reached her knees, long boots, and loose hair that filled the air with fragrance.
Seeing her, Derrick lit up instantly. Olivia smiled at him too, a faint dimple appearing on her right cheek—something he hadn't noticed before.
"Heyyy, everyone!"
Standing by Derrick, her eyes scanned the room.
"Hi."
Emma replied, while John kept reading his papers. The lawyer, however, was grinning widely at Olivia.
"Hi, gorgeous."
Derrick stretched his hand toward her with a bright smile. Olivia shook his hand.
(This lawyer thinks he's too much. Don't worry—I'll give him a kind of respect he'll never forget once I'm better.)
Derrick thought to himself, glaring at the lawyer.
"What's going on here?"
She directed the question at John, but Derrick answered.
"People who visit me empty-handed are here to draft their final wills."
His tone was sharp, jealousy spilling over. It was obvious—when your crush ignores you and greets everyone else, anger is natural. And to top it off, they arrive empty-handed!
Olivia shot him a look. John suppressed his laughter, knowing exactly what was coming.
And sure enough, Derrick's expression froze, then soured.
"John and I are getting married."
John said calmly, eyes fixed on Derrick, who nearly fell off the bed in shock. Olivia was surprised, but Emma simply sat there with indifference, reading the papers John had given her. She didn't join the conversation at all.
"Wow… congratulations to both of you. But why so proud?"
Olivia offered sincere congratulations.
"There will be a grand function—after this zombie gets better."
John pointed at Derrick tied in restraints. Lately, he enjoyed teasing him endlessly.
Derrick turned away in annoyance.
---
John sent Emma with Olivia for a check-up and now stood near Derrick, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. Opportunities like this didn't come every day.
"Aren't you going to congratulate me?"
He teased, reaching for a packet of chips. Derrick snatched it away instantly and glared at him.
"My arms aren't healed yet. Otherwise, I'd give you a very powerful congratulation."
He opened the same packet and began eating.
"But mine are fine, right?"
John flexed his arms in front of him.
"Competitions are fair only when both sides are equal."
"Oohh…"
John pursed his lips, making a silly face as if Derrick had just revealed a shocking secret.
"John, I'm telling you—my wedding will be on the same day as yours!"
Derrick snapped.
"First, get the girl to agree."
But before Derrick could reply, Olivia entered again with Emma.
"Here you go, Mr. John—your wife."
She smiled as she placed Emma beside him. Emma, however, didn't even look at John. Instead, she walked straight to Derrick.
The frown on John's forehead deepened at her attitude.
Now Emma was asking Derrick about his health, and unusually, he was giving her direct, serious answers.
"Alright, I'll leave now."
Olivia was heading toward the door when Derrick's voice stopped her.
"You came here for something—finish it first."
He was still talking to Emma, but his attention was also fixed on Olivia.
"I've seen you're fine. That's all I came for."
She said seriously, avoiding his gaze.
"No, that's not why you came."
He smiled, looking directly into her face.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Danger alarms rang in her head.
"I did come for that. Anyway, I'll be leaving now…"
She tried to cover her nervousness, but his next words froze her in place. Her eyes shut tightly.
Exactly what she had feared—happened.
"If you think I've forgotten… that hug, my tears, my head in your lap, and your whisper that you wouldn't let anything happen to me—that you couldn't lose me… If you think I've forgotten all that, then honestly, I never will."
He said innocently, though his eyes betrayed his intent.
Emma, standing nearby, almost burst into laughter at his act, but quickly covered it when John suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room—to give those two privacy.
---
"Where are we going?"
Emma asked John, who was driving, his face dead serious.
"Home."
A single-word reply.
Emma was fighting sleep, her heavy eyelids struggling to stay open.
"Can I ask you something?"
She tried to keep herself awake by talking to this dangerous man.
"Hmmm…"
"Why did you marry me?"
Her sleepy brown eyes locked onto him. John glanced at her briefly before answering.
"So I could place my love in your heart."
He looked back at the road. Her drowsy eyes kept pulling at him.
"Why?"
"Because I want to."
"Why do you want to?"
"I'll tell you when the time is right."
"And now?"
"Now isn't the time."
"Why not?"
The injection laced with sedative was taking effect, which was why she was asking so many questions. Otherwise, she would never dare.
"How do I look?"
"You… big… very big."
She made a childish face, and he burst into laughter.
"Don't worry. The day isn't far when you'll say yourself—'John, you're very good.'"
His laughter suddenly faded. With a mysterious look, he glanced at her.
By then, she was already asleep.
When they reached home, he parked the car.
"Wake up. We're home."
He shook her shoulder gently, but she didn't wake.
John stepped out, opened her side of the car, and realized she wasn't going to wake up.
So, he lifted her in his arms and carried her inside, laying her down on the couch in the lounge.
Kneeling beside her, his eyes lingered on her face.
As she slept, she looked so innocent, so delicate.
Those brown eyes with red streaks flashed in his memory, stirring a deep longing.
He gave in to it, pressing his lips softly against her closed eyelids.
His gaze dropped lower—to her fragile lips.
Every time this girl came near him, his heart rebelled. He had never felt like this before.
Before he could take things further, his phone rang.
The sound jolted him back to reality. He quickly stood up and left the house.
"I must stay away from this girl."
He muttered to himself, as if reminding his own heart.
---
To be continued…
---