Laylah stormed out of Jawwad's house, fuming with anger. She muttered to herself all the way home, grumbling about how she wasn't a maid or a slave to be ordered around just because her brother said so.

Who did Jawwad think he was? She hissed again, almost stumbling over her own feet as she marched toward her house. The moment she stepped inside, she made a beeline for her room, slamming the door behind her.

To her surprise, Yasmin and Safiya, were lounging on her bed, flipping through a magazine. They looked up in unison, surprised by her dramatic entrance. Laylah huffed, momentarily forgetting her anger as she rushed over to them, arms crossed over her chest.

"Can you believe what just happened?" she blurted out, her voice a combination of irritation and disbelief. "That arrogant man is Ya Umar's friend and he forced me to clean the stupid man's house! Jawwad—whatever his name is—treated me like I was his maid!"

Yasmin and Safiya exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter. Laylah glared at them, her anger rising. "It's not funny!" she snapped, though their laughter was contagious.

"Oh, it is funny," Yasmin said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "So you're Jawwad's maid now? That's rich."

Laylah scoffed, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment and rage. "I am not his maid! And the way he looked at me... like I was some nuisance! I hate him even more now."

"Well, he does have this... superior attitude," Safiya chimed in, a smirk on her lips. "But don't let it get to you. He's not worth your time."

"But it's not just that," Yasmin added, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You should get back at him. Show him who's boss. Make him regret treating you like that."

Laylah's eyes narrowed as she considered Yasmin's words. She couldn't stand the idea of Jawwad looking down on her. She wasn't used to it.

Men usually worshiped the ground she walked on, falling over themselves just to please her. But Jawwad... he was different. He didn't feed her ego; he ignored it. That made her hate him even more.

"Why does he think he's better than me?" she muttered, tapping her foot against the floor. Her mind raced with thoughts of how she could turn the tables on him. She was standing there, arms still crossed, her irritation boiling over.

"Oh, come on," Yasmin said, adjusting her sitting position. "He's probably just one of those guys who thinks he's too good for anyone."

Safiya glanced at her phone when it rang. She frowned slightly as she answered, stepping out of the room to take the call. "My mom needs me at home," she said quickly, giving Laylah a sympathetic smile before leaving.

Now alone with Yasmin, Laylah felt her anger shift into something else—something she didn't want to admit. Yasmin leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, you could make him beg. Men like Jawwad are only cold on the outside. Get under his skin, and he'll be the one crawling back to you."

Laylah shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling Yasmin's words stirred inside her. Why did she even care what Jawwad thought? But the truth was, deep down, she hated how much his indifference affected her.

She wanted his attention, his validation—just like she got from every other man. But why? Why was he so different? Why wasn't he feeding her ego like everyone else?

"If he knew how many men with better looks and higher status than him have chased after me," she muttered, her eyes narrowing. "He'd be grateful I even spoke to him, let alone let him breathe the same air as me."

Yasmin smirked. "Exactly. And that's why you need to show him his place. You have the power here, Laylah. You just need to remind him of that."

Laylah nodded, feeling a twisted, her pride rising within her. If Jawwad wanted a war, he would get one. She'd make sure he regretted every moment he ever dared to look down on her.

Laylah and Yasmin kept talking about Jawwad, feeding each other's anger and resentment. Yasmin seemed to enjoy stoking the flames, encouraging Laylah's every complaint.

But after a while, they drifted to other topics—school, fashion, gossip. Yet, even as they chatted about other things, Laylah's mind kept circling back to Jawwad and the way he treated her. It gnawed at her, this strange hatred and something she refused to name.

After Isha prayer, Yasmin stood up to leave. "I should get going," she said, stretching her arms. Laylah, not ready to be alone with her thoughts, quickly offered, "I can take you home if you want."

Yasmin shook her head, a sly smile on her lips. "No need. Someone's coming to pick me up." Laylah raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. She knew Yasmin well enough to understand she had her secrets.

They both walked out of the room, Laylah wanting to stretch the evening a bit longer. Just as they stepped out, the gate creaked open. Umar walked in, his face stern as usual.

The moment he spotted Laylah, his eyes darkened, sending a chill down her spine. Her heart skipped a beat. Yasmin stiffened beside her, looking almost like she wanted to disappear. Everyone in their circle knew how strict Umar could be, and Yasmin was no exception.

"I'll... uh... just go now," Yasmin stammered, her usual confidence evaporating under Umar's gaze. She gave Laylah a quick hug, whispering, "Sai da safe," before darting off, leaving Laylah alone with her brother.

Umar didn't waste a second. "Why did you leave Jawwad's house without finishing what I asked you to do?" His voice was cold, almost biting. Laylah opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a sharp glare that made her stomach twist.

"Do you think this is a joke, Laylah?" he barked. "Mamii had to call Shamsiyya and Atika to finish what you were supposed to do. You will be dealt with for this. Now, get inside before I break your legs."

Laylah's face burned with annoyance and shame. She spun around, marching back into the house, grumbling under her breath.

"I'm not a slave... Not his maid..." she muttered, each step hefty with hatred. She barely noticed her brother Mujahid in the hallway, who looked up from his phone, frowning.

"What's wrong with you?" Mujahid asked, but Laylah just waved him off, too furious to answer. She stomped upstairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Meanwhile, Yasmin hadn't gone home as she said she would. Instead, she made her way to Jawwad's house, her heart racing with excitement and a plan forming in her mind. The gate man looked at her suspiciously as she approached the gate, his eyes narrowing.

"I need to see Jawwad," Yasmin said, her voice as sweet as honey. But the gate man didn't budge. "But he never told me he was expecting anyone now," he replied gruffly.

Yasmin frowned, quickly coming up with a lie. "I'm his relative," she insisted. "He'll be angry if you don't let me in." She made her expression serious, hoping to sell the lie.

The gate man hesitated, his eyes scanning her face. He knew his boss was a private man; no one ever visited him except Rayyan or Umar. But Yasmin's confident tone made him second-guess himself.

After a moment of deliberation, he sighed and opened the gate, albeit reluctantly. "Fine, but if you're lying, I'll lose my job," he muttered as she slipped inside.

Yasmin ignored his words, her eyes immediately drawn to the sight of three cars parked neatly in the driveway. She let out a low huff, admiring the sleek vehicles.

The house itself was even more impressive up close—big, beautiful, and imposing. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face as she walked towards the entrance.

She had heard so many things about Jawwad but never imagined he'd live this well. Her mind began to swirl with ideas, schemes to make him notice her.

If Laylah was dumb enough to not notice how handsome and rich he is, then she can have him to herself. She knew how to play the game of attraction better than anyone.

Reaching the door, she rang the doorbell, her heart pounding in eagerness. As she waited, she glanced around the compound one last time, already imagining what it would be like to be the woman who owned this place alongside Jawwad.

The thrill of the challenge sent a shiver down her spine. She knew this was risky, but the excitement of the unknown drove her forward. She was going to find a way to make Jawwad fall for her, no matter what it took.

She rang the doorbell again, her patience thinning with every passing second. She waited, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, glancing around the quiet compound.

Five minutes passed with no response. She growled under her breath, tapping her foot in defeat. This was not going as planned. Just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard the sound of the door unlocking behind her.

She quickly turned around, her breath catching in her throat. Jawwad stood in the doorway, looking even more handsome than she remembered. His tall frame filled the doorway, his expression a fusion of annoyance and mild curiosity.

Yasmin's heart skipped a beat. He looked at her like she was an unwelcome intrusion in his space. For a moment, he seemed to study her face, like he was trying to place where he had seen her before. But one thing about him—he always forgets people's faces the second they walked out of his sight. Especially people that add no value to his life.

But not Laylah.

"Can I help you?" Jawwad's voice was flat, clearly uninterested, but it snapped Yasmin out of her daze. She quickly cleared her throat, scrambling for the excuse she had prepared.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," she said, her voice taking on a tone of practiced politeness. "I'm looking for Aunty Amina. Is she around?"

Jawwad raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. Yasmin felt a shiver run down her spine. Did he know she was lying? For a moment, she feared he might call her out right then and there. But after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"You have the wrong house," he said simply and started to close the door.

Yasmin's eyes widened. No, this couldn't end here. "Wait, please!" she blurted out, quickly stepping forward to stop him from closing the door completely.

Jawwad sighed, rubbing his temples with a tired expression. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. Yasmin noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the way he winced slightly, like he was fighting a headache.

"Look, I just need a little help," Yasmin continued, trying to sound as helpless as possible. "Could I maybe use your phone to call her? Just to confirm the house number. My phone died before I arrived here."

Jawwad hesitated, his annoyance evident. He glanced down the compound, probably wishing she would just disappear. But with a resigned sigh, he finally nodded. "Wait here," he muttered before turning and disappearing back into the house.

Yasmin smirked the moment he was out of sight. Her eyes wandered around the compound again, taking in the luxurious surroundings with greedy interest. Everything about this place screamed wealth, and she couldn't help but picture herself being a part of it. This was a challenge she was more than willing to take on.

Minutes later, Jawwad returned with his phone in hand. He looked at her warily, as if sizing her up once more before reluctantly handing it over.

Yasmin took it with a grateful smile, although her mind was already working on her next move. She dialed a number, one she knew it was hers, and pressed the phone to her ear. After a moment, she pulled it away, her face transforming into a mask of disappointment.

"The number's off," she said, her voice dropping into a saddened tone. She glanced up at him with a look of false helplessness. "I don't have any other number memorized. It's the only one I know off the top of my head."

Jawwad's expression didn't soften in the slightest. If anything, he seemed even more annoyed now. He glanced away as if questioning why he even bothered to help in the first place. "Is there anyone else you can call?" he asked, his tone clipped.

Yasmin shook her head, giving him a small, pitiful smile. "No, just her. I'm really sorry for the trouble," she said, handing the phone back to him. "Thank you anyway. I'll figure something out. Goodnight."

She flashed him a quick smile, one she knew many men found charming. But to her dismay, Jawwad's face twisted into an expression of irritation rather than fascination. He didn't respond, simply turned around, and walked back into his house, the door closing firmly behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Yasmin's smile faded. She stared at the closed door for a moment, feeling annoyed and intrigue.

Jawwad was different. He didn't fall for her usual tactics, didn't look at her like she was something to be admired or desired. Instead, he looked at her like she was a nuisance—something to be dealt with and then forgotten.

Inside the house, Jawwad sat on the couch and relaxed his back, rubbing his temples again. His headache had worsened, thanks to the unexpected visit.

He slightly hissed, annoyed not just with Yasmin but also with the gate man for letting a stranger into his space. His sanctuary.