Finally, Wednesday of the first week of April arrived. Hasan awoke with a singular purpose: to meet the mysterious woman who claimed to possess special information about Anisa. As he stood before the mirror, meticulously checking his appearance, Asifa's voice broke his concentration.
"Baby, where are you going?" she asked, still drowsy from sleep. š
Ah... this is a nuisance, he thought inwardly. Outwardly, his expression remained smooth. "I'm meeting a friend. I'll be back by evening," he stated flatly, adjusting his cuff.
"Okay, baby," she murmured, sliding out of bed. As she passed him on her way to the bathroom, his hand shot out, catching her arm. He pulled her to him with an abrupt, possessive force. šŖ
"What are you doing, baby?" she asked, looking up at him slowly, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.
He offered no explanation. Instead, he held her tightly for a moment, manipulating her body against his in a brief, domineering gesture,a reaffirmation of control ,before releasing her just as abruptly. Without another word, he left the room. š¶
After a drive of several hours, Hasan arrived at the specified Coffee CafƩ. He waited, his impatience growing with each passing minute. Finally, a woman approached his table and sat down opposite him. She seemed faintly familiar, but he couldn't place her.
"Hello. You are Hasan, sir, correct?" she inquired. ā
"Yes. And you are the one who called?" he replied, his gaze sharp and assessing.
"Yes, sir. I'm Seyda," she introduced herself.
"Alright, Seyda. How do you know Anisa, and what is this information you have?" he demanded, cutting directly to the point. š£
"I work under Madam Anisa at the studio as a colour combination officer. I've known her for over two years. But what I have to tell you is... specific," she said, lowering her voice.
"Get to the point," Hasan pressed, his curiosity now edged with suspicion. š
"Of course. But first, sir, to be clear; you are Madam's fiancƩ? The marriage is confirmed?"
"Yes. We are to be married next month," he confirmed, his tone leaving no room for doubt. š«
"Then this concerns you. There is something between Madam Anisa and Sir Yugh," she began, watching his reaction closely.
"What? What are you implying? Who is this Yugh?" Hasan's voice tightened. ā
"Sir Yugh is the co-head of AZ Studio, alongside Madam. They are both major investors," she explained.
"So they are business partners. What of it?" Hasan asked, though a cold knot had begun to form in his stomach. š¤
"This, sir, is the evidence. You will understand." She slid her phone across the table, displaying a photograph. "For more details, however, the agreed amount firstā$5,000."
Without hesitation, Hasan produced the cash. Once the money was secured, he took her phone to examine the image. It showed a man lying on the ground with Anisa on top of him. Their faces were close, locked in a moment of intense, shared focus that transcended a mere accidental fall. š¦
"Is this Yugh? Where did you get this?" Hasan's voice was dangerously calm.
"I took it during our recent professional trip. While the rest of us were working at the event, they were absent for some time. I went looking and... found this scene in the forest," Seyda stated, her story rehearsed and delivered with convincing neutrality.
"I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. One last thing, how did you obtain my number?" š³
"Is anything truly out of reach if one is determined, sir?" she replied with a non-answer, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
"Send this photo to me now. Then you will delete it from your phone in front of me," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. š
"As you wish, sir." She complied, transferring the image and then permanently deleting it under his watchful eye. With a final, unreadable look, she departed.
Long after she had gone, Hasan remained at the table, staring at the now-copied image on his own device. The photograph was a stark, silent bomb, dropped into the center of his carefully constructed plans. His mind, ever calculating, began to whirl, not with heartbreak, but with strategic coldness. This was no longer just about a wedding; it was about a threat to his objective. š