In the dim, flickering light of the cinema, as the film's tense plot unfolded on screen, Anisa was riveted, her eyes glued to the dramatic climax, the forgotten popcorn cold in her lap. đż
But Hasan wasn't watching the movie. His gaze was fixed on Anisa; on her face, glowing softly in the reflected light, and on her legs, revealed by her short dress. A hunger, raw and possessive, overrode any pretense of a romantic date. He leaned in closer, his warm breath hitting her ear, his hand beginning a slow, invasive exploration of her thigh.
Anisa flinched, shifting uncomfortably, but he ignored her subtle resistance. The unwelcome advance grew more aggressive, his grip tightening as if claiming territory. He pressed his lips roughly against her neck in a mockery of a playful kiss, then forcefully turned her face to his, capturing her lips in a hot, demanding kiss that felt more like an assault than affection. đ„”
For Anisa, it was too much; too fast, too rough, too devoid of the tenderness she craved. A wave of panic and violation washed over her. She pushed him away with surprising force, scrambled to her feet, and fled the cinema without a word.
Tears welled in her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks. They weren't tears of heartbreak over a failed romance, but tears of pure, unadulterated fear, a visceral reaction to the sudden, frightening aggression of the man she was supposed to marry in two days. đ”âđ«