I stretch my neck, feeling the tension that's built up over hours of staring at the screen. The office is quiet now, most of the team having left hours ago. The sound of my fingers typing against the keyboard is the only noise that breaks the silence. It's late, but deadlines don't wait, and with everything going on, I've had to pick up more than my fair share of work.

Finally finishing the last email, I shut my laptop and rub my temples. A glance at the clock tells me it's nearing midnight. Time to head home.

As I make my way to the elevator, I see our driver waiting in the parking lot. He spots me and straightens up, giving a polite nod.

"You're still here?" I ask, pausing. "I thought you would've gone home after dropping Rehman off."

The driver frowns, confusion clouding his expression. "Sir, I didn't drop Mr. Rehman anywhere today. He said he'd call me if needed, but he didn't."

I freeze, my hand tightening on the strap of my bag. "What do you mean? He left hours ago. Where is he then?"

The driver shakes his head apologetically, and an unsettling feeling begins to creep up my throat. My mind races with possibilities, none of them good.

Without wasting another second, I reach for my phone and call Rehman. The phone rings, and my heart pounds in my chest. Come on, pick up. Pick up.

No answer.

"Damn it, Rehman," I mutter under my breath, dialing his number again. Still no response.

The unease grows, and my instincts scream that something's wrong. I toss my bag into the passenger seat of my car and drive toward our apartment building, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

As I'm a few blocks away, my phone vibrates. Rehman's name flashes on the screen, and I immediately pull over, relief washing over me. But when I answer, it's not his voice on the other end.

"Hello, is this someone related to the owner of this phone?"

"Yes," I say sharply, my pulse spiking. "I'm his brother. Where is he? Is he okay?"

The person hesitates. "The owner of this phone was in a car accident. He's been brought to City General Hospital."

My stomach drops, but I push down the panic clawing at me. "What's his condition?"

"I don't have those details. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible."

Without another word, I end the call and slam my foot on the accelerator. My thoughts are a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios as I weave through traffic, honking at anyone in my way.

By the time I reach the hospital, my nerves are frayed. I rush to the reception desk, barely giving the woman behind it a chance to speak before demanding to know where Rehman is.

"Room 212," she says, and I don't wait to hear anything else.

I find the room and push the door open, expecting the worst. My breath hitches when I see him lying there, his face peaceful as he sleeps. He's bandaged on his right arm, and there are a few scratches on his face, but he's alive. A wave of relief crashes over me, so strong that my knees almost buckle.

"Thank God," I whisper, stepping closer.

I sit beside him, my hand running through my hair as I let the tension drain from my body. A lone tear escapes, and I wipe it away quickly, not wanting him to see how rattled I am if he wakes up.

Looking at him now, I feel a renewed sense of responsibility. This isn't just his fight anymore—it's ours. I can't let him fall apart like this.

"I promise you, Rehman," I murmur, my voice low. "I'll do whatever it takes to help you. Whatever it takes."

I sit there for a long while, watching him breathe, each rise and fall of his chest reminding me of how fragile life is. Finally, I step out of the room to make a call.

I dial the number and pace the hallway as the phone rings. The person picks up, and before they can speak, I cut them off.

"Yeh aap logon ne jo kiya hai na, agar isy kuch bhi hua, toh zimidar ap log khud hun gy," I say, my voice cold and steady. "Buht ho gaya yeh khel tamasha. Ab bas. Ab jo mujhe apne bhai ke liye sahi lagy ga, mein woh karunga. Aap logon ki bewaja zid aur fazul ki khandani riwayaat keh peechy apna bhai nhi kho sakta mein."

(TRANSLATION:

"This thing you people have done—if anything happens to him, you'll be the ones responsible," I say, my voice cold and steady. "Enough of this game and drama. It stops now. From now on, I'll do whatever I think is right for my brother. I'm not going to lose him because of your pointless stubbornness and ridiculous family traditions.")

I end the call before they can respond, my chest heaving with anger. Whatever they say, whatever they do, I don't care anymore. My priority is Rehman, and I'll protect him, even if it means going against everything.

The house is quiet tonight. Mona is asleep downstairs, and my parents have retired to their room. Abeer is in her room, as usual, the faint glow of her lamp spilling under the door. I should be studying, but my mind is elsewhere.

I've been restless, seeing Abeer's condition getting worse day by day and her shutting off from everyone and everything. I can't help myself and have been trying to piece together what's causing Abeer's condition. She won't talk to me, no matter how much I plead, and every night, I watch her suffer in silence, unable to help. My patience has ran out and I need to know what's going on with her.

My eyes drift to her door. The thought has crossed my mind before, but tonight, desperation takes over. If she won't tell me what's going on, maybe her diary will.

I tiptoe down the hall, my heartbeat echoing in my ears as I push her door open gently. She's not in bed. The bathroom light is on, and I hear the faint sound of running water.

This is my chance.

I make my way to her desk, where her diary lies, half-hidden beneath a pile of books. My hands tremble as I pick it up, guilt twisting in my stomach. But I remind myself that I'm doing this for her. I just need to understand.

The bathroom door opens, and I freeze, the diary clutched in my hands.

"What are you doing?" Abeer's voice is sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

I turn to see her standing in the doorway, her face a mixture of anger and betrayal.

"I... I just..." I stammer, unable to find the words.

"You were going through my diary?" Her voice rises, and she strides across the room, snatching it from my hands. "How dare you, Sara?"

"I just wanted to help," I say, my voice small.

"Help?" she repeats, her eyes narrowing. "By invading my privacy? By reading the one thing I've kept to myself?"

I swallow hard, guilt and frustration warring inside me. "Abeer, you're suffering. You won't tell me what's going on, and I don't know how else to help you."

"You don't need to help me," she snaps, clutching the diary to her chest. "This is my life, Sara. Stay out of it."

Her words sting, but I refuse to back down. "You're my sister. I can't just stand by and watch you destroy yourself."

She lets out a bitter laugh, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You don't understand, Sara. You can't. So stop trying."

Before I can respond, she turns away, her shoulders stiff as she places the diary back on the desk. The message is clear—this conversation is over.

I leave the room, my chest heavy with regret. I've made things worse, and I know it. Abeer will be more guarded now, more distant. And I'm no closer to understanding what's tearing her apart.

But one thing is certain—I can't give up. No matter how many walls she puts up, I'll keep fighting to break through them. For her.

Staring at the ceiling in the dark

Same old empty feeling in your heart

'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast

Well you see her when you fall asleep

But never to touch and never to keep

'Cause you loved her too much and you dive too deep

Here's a short-quick update. Enjoy! Also, check out my pinterest (@wordswitch) and instagram (@_wordswitch) to know more about Abeer and Rehman. With lots of love <3

P.S. The lyrics at the end of the chapter are from the song: 'Let Her Go', by Passenger.

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