The days had felt like a dream. After the confrontation with Imran, Zoha and Zafar had finally found a semblance of peace. Their lives had settled into a rhythm—Zafar working tirelessly, securing his empire, while Zoha spent her days with Ezra, watching him grow. Each day, the bond between them grew stronger, and Zoha felt a sense of contentment she hadn't known in years.
But just when she thought they could finally breathe, life had other plans.
It was a quiet afternoon when the news came. Zafar had just returned from a meeting and was sipping his coffee, his thoughts somewhere far away. Zoha was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared dinner, when she heard the knock at the door.
She opened it to find one of Zafar's closest associates standing on the threshold, a somber expression on his face.
"Zoha," he said, his voice low. "We need to talk to Zafar. It's urgent."
Her stomach tightened. "What's wrong?"
"It's… about the business. I think you should let Zafar know."
Zoha's heart skipped a beat. Without another word, she walked into the living room, where Zafar was seated. She watched as the man entered, and the shift in Zafar's expression was instant. His eyes hardened, his jaw set in a way that sent a chill down Zoha's spine.
"What's going on?" Zafar asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of tension Zoha hadn't heard in a while.
The man hesitated before speaking. "It's Imran. He's gone public with everything. He's using your past—your family's business—to create a storm. He's making threats. Not just against you, but against your entire operation."
Zafar's face went pale. Zoha could see the shift in him. He was no longer the calm, steady man who had been with her just moments ago. This was the Zafar of his past—the man who had fought and clawed his way to the top, the man who wouldn't let anyone threaten his family.
"How bad is it?" Zafar's voice was a low growl.
"It's bad," the man replied. "Imran's already contacted your partners. He's starting to destabilize your alliances. He's got a plan to ruin you from the inside out."
Zoha's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the weight of Zafar's fury in the air. She knew he had been preparing for something like this, but she hadn't imagined it would happen so soon.
Zafar's eyes were now dark with anger. "Where is he?"
"We don't know yet," the man replied. "But he's out there, moving fast. We need to act before he gets too far ahead of us."
Zafar stood up, his fists clenched. "Get the team ready. I'll handle it."
The man nodded and turned to leave. Before he did, Zoha stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm. "Zafar, please—be careful. We've already been through so much."
Zafar paused, his gaze softening as he looked at her. For a brief moment, Zoha saw the vulnerability he had tried to bury so deep. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.
"I'll be fine," he said, though his voice carried the weight of unspoken truths. "I've always been able to handle this world. But now…" His voice trailed off, and Zoha could feel the depth of his emotions. He wasn't just worried about his business. He was worried about her. About Ezra.
"You don't have to fight alone," Zoha whispered, her heart aching. "We're in this together, Zafar. Always."
He didn't respond right away, but the look in his eyes said everything. He wasn't sure what the future held, but he knew one thing: he would do whatever it took to protect his family.
Later that night, Zoha lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The weight of what had happened was heavy on her mind, and she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her. Zafar had left with his team, and she hadn't heard from him since.
Ezra was asleep beside her, his small body curled up into a ball, completely unaware of the storm that was brewing outside their home. Zoha's hand gently stroked his hair as she watched him sleep, her heart swelling with love for the little boy who had brought so much light into her life.
But her thoughts kept returning to Zafar. She knew he would do whatever it took to keep them safe, but the unknowns loomed large. Would they be able to overcome Imran's plan? And what price would they have to pay?
The thought of losing Zafar—of everything they had worked for—left a hollow ache in her chest.
Hours later, Zoha woke to the sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door. Her heart skipped a beat as the door creaked open, and she saw Zafar standing there, his figure silhouetted by the hallway light. His expression was tense, his eyes hard with determination, but there was something else in them. A flicker of fear, perhaps—something Zoha had never seen before.
"Zafar?" Zoha sat up, her voice thick with concern. "What's going on?"
Zafar stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He stood still for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, before speaking in a low voice. "Imran's not done yet. He's making his move."
Zoha's pulse quickened. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet," Zafar admitted, his tone softer than she had ever heard. "But I'm not going to let him destroy everything we've built. Not after everything you and Ezra have given me."
Zoha stood up, walking over to him. Her hand gently cupped his face, her thumb brushing over his jaw. "Zafar… whatever happens, we'll face it together. You're not alone."
For a moment, Zafar closed his eyes, his face pressing into her hand. Then, he opened his eyes and looked at her, a depth of emotion in his gaze. "I love you, Zoha. More than you know. And I'll protect you and Ezra with everything I have."
Tears welled in Zoha's eyes as she nodded, unable to speak for a moment. She kissed him softly, her heart breaking for him, for the burden he carried.
The storm had begun. And Zafar and Zoha were once again standing at the edge, uncertain of what the future held, but determined to face it together.