24th July, 2019

The maid peeked into the kitchen again. "Ma'am, what should I make for lunch?"

No answer.

"Ma'am? What would you like for lunch?" she asked a second time.

Still nothing.

Eram stood there, absentmindedly stirring her now-cold coffee, staring blankly into the swirling liquid as if it held all the answers. Her mind, however, was a battlefield. One side screamed Shumail's name, reminding her of every soft word, every small kindness. The other side held the ugly truth—what she had to do, what she'd been told to do, even if it meant betraying the one man who had shown her nothing but goodness.

The maid finally walked over and tapped her shoulder. "Ma'am?"

Eram snapped out of her daze, startled. "Yeah? Sorry... I zoned out."

She sighed heavily, picked up the mug, and walked over to reheat the coffee.

"Lunch?" the maid prompted again.

"Don’t bother. Shumail's having lunch with his friends at the office. I have to go out anyway... meeting a friend." Her voice lacked conviction.

She remembered the errand—the papers she had to deliver. Papers that required Shumail's signature. Not just any papers, but property documents buried sneakily among the files his secretary delivered last evening. She’d tried to pretend it was fine. That she had to do this. That he would never find out.

But her heart? It wasn’t cooperating.

Giving away his money was one thing—dirty, yes, but survivable. Getting his signature on something that could destroy him? That felt like pressing a knife into his back while he held the door open for her.

I can’t do this to him.

The thought struck like thunder. Eram suddenly bolted, her feet flying up the stairs as panic clawed its way up her throat. She didn’t care what excuse she’d give that woman. She just had to stop him. Please, please, let him not have signed them yet.

She burst into their room and saw him walking out of the closet, buttoning his cuffs, looking fresh and elegant in his office attire. His eyes found hers, and a smile lit up his face—that warm, unintimidating smile that had started feeling like home.

She rushed toward the coffee table, her gaze searching for the file. There it was. Lying there like a ticking bomb.

Before she could ask anything, Shumail's arm slid around her waist, and he dropped a kiss on her temple. As casually as if she weren’t seconds away from a breakdown, he moved to sit on the couch and picked up the file.

She froze. Then blinked. No, no, no.

He picked up his pen.

"What are you doing?" she blurted.

"Just signing these documents. Need to fax them back to the office."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her eyes scanned the room. She needed a distraction. Something. Anything.

Her fingers tightened around the coffee mug in her hand.

"Here’s your coffee," she said, walking over.

As she bent to place it down, she deliberately twisted her wrist. The mug slipped, coffee splashing all over the documents.

"Oh my God! I’m so sorry!" she cried, grabbing a towel and dabbing furiously at the papers, her motions frantic but precise—obliterating the ink on the property papers.

Shumail jumped to his feet. "It's okay! Don't worry. Are you alright?"

"I ruined your documents! How could I be so careless? God, Shumail, I'm so sorry!"

"Eram, breathe. It's alright," he reassured, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll just get them faxed again. Relax."

He picked up his phone. "Hey, fax me the documents again. The old ones had a tragic caffeine accident."

Eram watched him, her heart swelling and sinking at once. He took the blame. Covered for her without a second thought.

As he looked at her again, she caught his eyes—gentle, amused, trusting. He raised a finger to his lips and mimed a smile. Her lips curved upward despite the guilt.

"Should I throw these away?" she asked.

"No, shred them. Damaged but still private."

She nodded and made her way to the shredder in his study, quickly feeding in the stained documents—all except the property papers, which she hid behind her back.

Shumail entered the room behind her to check the fax. Eram slipped out.

"I’ll get you another coffee," she called, not waiting for an answer.

Her mind raced. I stopped him this time. But next time?

Fear curled in her stomach. She hated lying to him. Hated the look he gave her—like she was someone worth trusting. Someone good.

You’re a coward, Eram.

No. You’re trapped.

Tell him the truth. He'll understand.

He'll throw you out when he finds out whose orders you’re following.

She held her head, trying to shut out the war raging inside.

"Eram!" came his voice from the living room. "My coffee?"

"Just a moment!" she called back.

She hurried to make a fresh cup, poured it carefully into a mug, and returned. He sat on the couch, reading glasses perched on his nose, scrolling through his iPad. He looked so... domestic. So real.

She handed him the mug. He smiled, took a sip.

And she just stood there, staring.

Without thinking, her hands moved to his face. She cupped his cheeks, her thumbs grazing his stubble. He blinked in surprise.

"Eram? Everything alright?" he asked gently.

She shook her head slowly, voice low. "Why are you like this, Shumail? Why are you so… good?"

He placed the mug down and rose, matching her gaze. "You sound overwhelmed. What’s going on in that head of yours?"

She tried to look away. He made her meet his eyes.

"Just... overwhelmed," she repeated softly.

He pulled her into a hug, arms wrapping around her like armor. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent, clutching his back like she was drowning.

For a second, she let herself believe this was real.

Then the real world came crashing back.

She stiffened.

She had a meeting.

With her.

Her grip on him tightened involuntarily. He felt it.

"You okay now?" he asked, pulling back to study her face.

She nodded quickly. Too quickly.

He smiled, kissed her forehead. "I’m off. Fi Amanillah."

She followed him to the door.

Then he turned, just before leaving. "Be ready in the evening. I'm taking you somewhere."

His tone was unreadable.

His smile? Tight-lipped.

Her heart skipped.

Then he was gone.

***

Eram entered the café, palms sweating. Her heart pounded as she scanned the place until her eyes landed on the woman seated in the far corner, face calm but eyes calculating.

She walked over slowly and took a seat.

The woman didn’t waste time.

"How could you be this careless?"

Eram flinched. The woman’s voice cut like glass.

"I trusted you with one thing!" she snapped, slamming the stained papers onto the table. "One simple task! And you botched it."

Eram straightened her back. "I’m done. I quit."

The woman’s lips twitched. This was the first time they’d met in person. Her presence was sharper, more threatening in real life.

“Oh, how delightful,” she sneered. “I should be thanking you. I’m sick of your incompetence.”

“You told me to marry Shumail—I did. You asked for money—I gave it. But forging his signature? Transferring everything to your name? I won’t do that.”

“That’s my money. My property,” the woman spat.

“No. It’s his. You lied. You said he stole your husband’s legacy, your company, everything. But I’ve lived with him. I know him. Shumail would never do that.”

A pause. Then the woman leaned back with a cold smile. “You’re right. He wouldn’t. I lied.”

Eram stared. “Why?”

The woman shrugged. “Does it matter? What are you going to do? Tell him?”

“I should. He deserves to know.”

The woman laughed, low and dangerous. She reached for a glass on the table, pushing it slowly to the edge. “You won’t. Because I know what you’ll lose if you try.”

Eram’s breath caught. Her vision blurred.

“You can’t blackmail me,” she whispered.

“I already am. Change a few documents. A signature here, a name there. That’s all. Protect what’s yours… or lose it.”

Eram’s fists clenched. Her heart cracked in two.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

***

Eram walked into their room, her mind clouded and heavy. Her handbag slipped off her shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud, but she didn't even flinch. The silence around her felt suffocating. She made her way to the couch like a ghost drifting through fog and sank into it, her eyes staring into the void, unseeing.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, and the screen lit up with Shumail's name. Her breath caught in her throat. She cleared her throat and quickly answered the call, trying to steady her trembling fingers.

"Salam, wifey," came his voice, warm and familiar.

Her chest ached. A choked sob slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She pressed her palm against her mouth, muffling the sound, her eyes filling with tears.

She struggled to speak, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Hello?" her voice came out barely audible.

"Walaikum Assalam," she added quickly.

"You okay? What took you so long to answer?" His concern reached through the phone and wrapped around her heart.

"Uh, nothing. I just dropped my phone," she lied.

"Oh. No worries. I called to ask if you're ready? I'm on my way home to get you."

Only then did she remember—he was going to take her some place.

"Sorry, but I don't think I can go. I'm not feeling well," she said, her voice a whisper soaked in pain.

"You fine? What happened?"

She could picture the crease of worry forming between his brows, and despite everything, the thought made her smile faintly.

"I'm just... not feeling good. I'll take some rest. In Sha Allah, I'll be okay."

"I'm on my way," he said firmly. The call ended.

The moment the screen went dark, Eram broke. Tears spilled freely as she curled into herself, her cries echoing off the walls of the quiet room. Her chest heaved with every sob.

"Why are you so good, Shumail?" she whispered brokenly. "Why do you treat me like I mean something, when I came to destroy you?"

She slid off the couch and crumbled to her knees, her palms pressing into the plush carpet as she sobbed.

You got yourself in this mess, Eram. Ever thought what Shumail will do when he finds out the truth? her conscience jeered.

Her breath hitched. Her thoughts spiralled. Her vision blurred, not just from the tears but from the sudden weight of her own heartbeat thudding violently in her chest. Panic gripped her like a vice. She tried to stand, to reach for water, but her trembling hands slipped off the armrest.

And then, the door opened.

Shumail stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they found her collapsed on the floor. Panic flashed in his gaze as he rushed to her side, dropping to his knees.

"Eram? What happened?" he demanded, gently cupping her cheeks.

She couldn't answer. Her breathing was ragged, sharp. Her fingers clawed weakly at the carpet.

He recognized it instantly. "You're having a panic attack," he muttered, more to himself.

Without a second thought, he unpinned her hijab, helping her loosen it so she could breathe more freely. "Take deep breaths. Eram, look at me. You're safe. I'm here. Breathe with me."

She wasn't listening. Her eyes were glazed, her thoughts still drowning her.

"Eram! Focus on me. Please, just look at me!"

When his words didn't break through, he made a desperate choice.

"I'm sorry for this," he said softly, and then, he kissed her.

His lips brushed hers with surprising tenderness, grounding her in that one moment. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his coat, anchoring herself to him. Slowly, her panicked breathing began to steady, her mind drawing away from the chaos. She leaned into the kiss, tears still slipping down her cheeks, but her heart slowed.

When he pulled away, he pushed a strand of hair from her face and rested his forehead against hers.

"Are you okay now?"

She gave a shaky nod.

"What happened, Eram?"

She couldn't meet his eyes. Her gaze dropped to her lap, guilt crawling over her skin.

He tilted her chin up gently. "Eram?"

Her eyes searched his. For the first time, she allowed herself to truly see him—not the man she was supposed to trick, but the man who had given her safety, love, and trust without asking for anything in return.

She rose slightly to her knees and reached for his face, cupping his cheeks with trembling hands.

"You're too good to be true," she whispered, voice cracking. "And I can't do this to you."

She kissed him again, softly, as if asking for forgiveness. When she pulled back, she was ready to say it all.

"I need to tell you a bitter truth."

He waited, holding her hands, his expression unreadable.

"Someone hired me to get your property. To make you fall for me and take everything from you."

Her eyes clenched shut in shame. The silence that followed was suffocating. But then, a voice—calm, deep, and cold—cut through the stillness.

"I know."

Assalamualaikum!

Let me know in the comments below how was this chap.

Until next time...Fee Amanillah!