16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5fw5M561WL
Aaliya woke up restless. Sleep had come in fragments, broken up by flashes of last night's alley scene replaying in her mind.
Faris's eyes haunted her — cold, detached, yet oddly piercing. It wasn't fear that sat heavy in her chest. It was something else, something harder to define.
She shook her head and forced herself out of bed. There was no time to get lost in thoughts. It was the first friday of Ramadan, and the house buzzed with the familiar energy of pre-dawn preparations. The smell of cardamom tea drifted from the kitchen, mixing with the faint warmth of fresh parathas.
Her mother moved swiftly, a blur of efficiency, flipping the bread and stirring the eggs.
"Aaliya, wake your brother," she called over her shoulder without turning around.
Aaliya sighed. "He's probably awake already, Ammi. He was up late studying."
Her mother paused, shaking her head with a smile. "That boy studies too much. He'll burn himself out."
Aaliya smiled faintly and slipped out of the kitchen. She found Anaya at the dining table, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her phone in hand.
"You're up early," she teased, flopping into the seat across from her.
"Couldn't sleep," Adam mumbled, still half-asleep. "Too hungry to stay in bed."
Aaliya laughed softly. Some things never changed.
They ate in quiet comfort, the hum of the world outside feeling distant. Her mother sat down after finishing in the kitchen, joining them with a plate of fruit.
"Jumma Mubarak," her mother said gently, her voice warm with that familiar sense of hope the month always brought.
"Jumma Mubarak," Aaliya echoed, feeling a tug in her chest. This month always felt different — lighter, calmer, like the world itself slowed down just enough to let her breathe.
But the peace didn't last long.
Adam phone buzzed, and he frowned. "I'll be back. Gotta meet someone."
"At this hour?" Aaliya frowned. "Who?"
"Just a friend. Don't worry." He grabbed his jacket and was out the door before she could ask more.
Her stomach twisted. Adam was never good at lying.
The memory of Faris flashed in her mind again. The way those men had looked at him — like he wasn't just powerful, but dangerous. Untouchable.
And now Adam was running off to meet someone in the early hours of the morning, during Ramadan no less?
Something wasn't right.
She stared at the door long after it shut.
For the first time in a long time, Aaliya couldn't shake the feeling that her brother might be in over his head — and that she might be, too.
___________________________________________
Aaliya couldn't sit still.
Adam's sudden exit left a gnawing sense of unease in her stomach, one she couldn't brush off. He wasn't the type to sneak around — especially not during Ramadan. He wasn't reckless. But lately, he seemed different. Distracted. Distant.
Her mind wandered back to last night. The way Faris had stood in that alley, his voice low and commanding, the man in front of him practically trembling. There was power in his presence, an unspoken authority that didn't come from fear alone. It was the way he held himself — like the world owed him something, and he wasn't afraid to take it.
And for some reason, that terrified her.
Aaliya tried to push the thought away. She grabbed her hijab and slipped out onto the street, the early morning air crisp and cool against her skin. The streets were quiet, only a few shops beginning to stir. The city felt peaceful, almost asleep — but her heart was restless.
Adam wasn't answering his phone.
She tried not to panic. Maybe he really was just meeting a friend. Maybe she was overthinking it.
But her feet didn't listen to reason. They carried her back to the place she swore she wouldn't go — the alley.
It looked different in the daylight. Less intimidating, more ordinary. The shadows that had seemed alive last night were gone, replaced with the hum of distant traffic and the faint scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.
She felt silly for coming here. What did she expect to find? Adam wasn't here. Neither was Faris.
But as she turned to leave, a sleek black car rolled to a slow stop at the end of the alley.
Her heart stuttered.
The back door opened, and he stepped out.
Faris Al-Fayez.
Even in daylight, he looked like he didn't belong here — too clean-cut, too sharp against the rough edges of the street. His suit was dark, tailored to perfection, and his sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal a watch that probably cost more than her family's rent for the year.
He wasn't alone this time. Two men followed him out, their expressions unreadable.
Aaliya ducked behind a stack of wooden crates, her breath catching in her throat. She shouldn't be here. She knew that. But she couldn't look away.
Faris's voice carried through the alley, low and steady.
"You think running gets you out of this?" he said, his tone calm — too calm.
A man's voice answered, shaky and defensive. Aaliya couldn't see him from where she was hiding, but she could hear the panic in his voice. "I-I didn't know it was your territory. I swear, I wasn't trying to cross anyone."
Faris didn't move for a moment. Then he stepped closer, his shoes echoing against the pavement.
"You knew," he said quietly. "You just thought you wouldn't get caught."
The man stammered something, but Faris cut him off with a sigh — not angry, but exhausted, like he'd heard it all before.
"You're lucky it's Ramadan," he said after a pause. "I'm feeling merciful."
The man let out a shaky breath of relief.
"But mercy runs out."
His words hung in the air, heavy and final.
Aaliya's stomach twisted. He wasn't yelling, wasn't threatening — but the weight behind his words made it clear. Faris didn't need to raise his voice to make people afraid of him. He was the kind of person who didn't need to say what he was capable of. People just knew.
The man stumbled away, practically tripping over himself as he ran. Faris didn't even watch him go. He turned to one of his men and said something too quiet for Aaliya to catch, then headed back to the car.
For a second, his eyes flicked toward her hiding spot.
Aaliya froze, her breath caught in her throat.
But then he looked away, like she wasn't even worth noticing.
The car door shut behind him, and they were gone.
Aaliya didn't move for a long moment. Her legs felt like lead, her chest tight.
Who was this man? And what had Adam gotten mixed up in?
She didn't know the answers — but one thing was clear. Faris Al-Fayez wasn't just someone to avoid.
He was someone who could burn their whole world down.
Aaliya didn't know how long she stayed there, crouched behind the crates. Her legs felt stiff, her knees ached, but she couldn't will herself to move. Her heart was still racing, her breath shallow and quick.
The sound of the car's engine faded into the distance, but the weight of what she'd just witnessed didn't disappear with it. Faris Al-Fayez wasn't just powerful — he was dangerous in a way that didn't require raised fists or loud threats. He didn't need violence to make people tremble. His words alone were enough.
And worse than that... he didn't look like he cared.
Aaliya had seen cruel people before. She wasn't naïve — she knew men who lived in the grey areas of life, bending rules to survive. But this wasn't survival.
Faris moved like someone who owned the rules. Someone who didn't bother hiding that the world worked in his favor — because who was going to stop him?
The memory of his eyes flicking to her hiding spot burned in her mind. It was barely a second, but that second felt endless. He had looked right at her, and yet he'd moved on without a shred of interest. Like she wasn't worth his time.
That stung more than it should.
She forced herself to stand, her muscles protesting. Her hands shook slightly as she adjusted her hijab, trying to collect herself. The street felt wrong now — like something dark and unwelcome had seeped into it, leaving a stain no daylight could wash away.
Aaliya needed to find Adam.
Her feet moved before her mind caught up, leading her away from the alley. Her heart pounded with each step. Adam wouldn't just disappear on her. He wouldn't.
Would he?
She hated the doubt worming its way into her chest. Adam was her best friend, her brother in everything but blood. He was the one person who had always been there for her — when her sister passed, when her father shut down, when the world felt too heavy to carry alone.
He wouldn't leave her in the dark like this. Not unless something was seriously wrong.
Her stomach twisted tighter. What if he was caught up in something worse than she could imagine? What if Faris wasn't just a random encounter?
The thought made her blood run cold.
She reached for her phone again, checking for any messages. Nothing.
Her steps quickened. She barely noticed the city around her — the market stalls setting up for the day, the distant honk of traffic, the faint smell of street food lingering from the night before. It all blurred together into meaningless noise.
Zayd was supposed to meet her. He wouldn't break a promise like that.
Unless he couldn't.
Her throat felt tight.
Aaliya made it to the small café where they usually met after Iftar. It was quiet, only a few early risers scattered at tables, sipping coffee or scrolling on their phones. The waiter recognized her and gave a small nod, but she didn't stop to greet him.
Her eyes scanned the café quickly, hope flickering — but Zayd wasn't there.
She sank into a chair near the window, her mind racing. Maybe he was at the masjid. Maybe he had to run an errand. Maybe —
The café door jingled.
Aaliya glanced up, half hoping it was Zayd — but her heart sank.
It wasn't him.
It was Faris.
She froze, her stomach lurching. He didn't see her at first, too focused on his phone as he stepped inside. His presence filled the small café in an instant. He didn't belong here, not in his expensive suit and sharp gaze. It was like watching a lion wander into a field of sheep.
And everyone noticed. Conversations faltered. People glanced his way, some subtly, others not bothering to hide their curiosity — or fear.
Faris didn't seem to care. He walked to the counter with the same effortless confidence he carried everywhere, giving the barista a curt nod.
Aaliya's pulse thundered in her ears. She didn't know what to do. Should she hide? Leave? Would that draw more attention?
Her panic must've shown on her face, because suddenly, he looked up.
Their eyes met.
This time, he didn't look past her.
His head tilted slightly, and his brows lifted in a way that felt more like a silent question than a greeting.
Aaliya's throat tightened. Her voice felt trapped behind her ribs.
Then, to her surprise, a faint flicker of amusement crossed his face — there and gone so fast, she almost thought she imagined it. He didn't smile, not really. It wasn't warmth. It was something closer to curiosity, like he wasn't used to seeing someone look at him with more fear than respect.
Or maybe he was just wondering why she wasn't looking away.
Before she could figure out what to say — if she should say anything at all — Faris turned back to his phone, disinterested again.
Like she wasn't worth more than a passing thought.
Aaliya exhaled shakily, her heart still hammering. She didn't know what just happened, but one thing was clear:
Faris Al-Fayez wasn't someone she could ignore.
And whether she liked it or not... she didn't think he was going to stay out of her life for long.
The café hummed softly with the clink of cups and low murmurs. Aaliya's fingers tapped restlessly on the rim of her half-empty cup, her eyes darting to the door every few seconds. Faris had left only moments ago. But the pit in her stomach hadn't eased.
The door chimed, and her head snapped up. Zayd walked in, his gaze scanning the room before landing on her. He looked his usual self — composed, a bit too calm — but something about him felt off today, or maybe it was just her nerves.
"You're late," Aaliya blurted, her voice tighter than she intended.
Zayd raised an eyebrow, strolling to her table. "Didn't know we were on a schedule." He studied her for a second longer. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
She swallowed hard, motioning for him to sit. "It's Adam," she started, her voice trembling. "He's been gone since this morning. He said he was going to meet a friend, but... he hasn't come back. He's not answering his phone either."
Zayd tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Aaliya... he's a grown boy. He'll be back."
"He doesn't just disappear like this," she insisted, her voice lowering to a worried hush. "I called his friends. None of them have seen him. Something's wrong, Zayd. I can feel it."
Zayd leaned forward, his voice steady but low. "You're overthinking it. He's probably out blowing off some steam. Adam's not a kid anymore — he doesn't need to check in every second."
Aaliya's throat tightened. "You don't get it. He wouldn't do this. Not without telling me."
For a moment, Zayd just stared at her. Then, his voice dropped to something softer, almost too gentle. "He'll turn up, Aaliya. He always does."
She wanted to believe him — she really did. But the unease clung to her chest, heavy and unrelenting.
TO BE CONTINUED-
16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8rMHrb0xsc
