I know I shouldn't give him a chance... Not so soon at least. No matter what happens I could not erase those horrible nightmares from my mind....or not so soon. Yet my heart wavered before I could stop it. It could not help but melt when he expressed his feelings so passionately.

So when he asked for a chance I gave him a test or a dare to be exact for him to complete. Meeting my father without thinking of taking revenge, is one of the toughest tasks for him. Let alone telling the truth of our marriage.

No matter how many times he said that my father was one to be responsible for his parents death I could not fully blame my father. He was the man of truth. I believe that he acted on what he saw and what he got.

Still what happened with Rayan was truly tragic. No one should go through this. Somehow I find myself connected to him, to his sorrow like I never felt before for someone or anyone.

It was not a pity it was something I dared to name.

How could I allow myself to feel that?

A part of my mind never wanted me to forget what he did with me and another-the stupid and naive part of mine wanted to respond to his confession despite myself.

I've never felt this conflicted in my entire life. These past few days, my thoughts have been consumed by him. He is everything I should avoid to preserve my sanity. And yet, even if I wanted to, I can't seem to stay away.

He managed to find a crack in the wall I tried to build around me to protect myself from the chaos of him.

But still he will have to pass the test I put for him. Even though he can't give back my peaceful life at least he should help me find my family back again. This action would be the first phase of his redemption.

I won't lie that I'm somehow addicted to him, to his touch but If he wants to be beyond that he has to let go of this manipulating nature.

The most intriguing part was that he said he took that test. He would meet my Baba and spelt the truth behind our marriage. I'm so anxious about this. How will he react when he met father directly. And my Baba, maybe he already knows about Rayan. If he knew his real identity how he would react.
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As I lost myself in thought, I didn't notice Muneeb tugging at my lehenga.

It had been so long since I last wore something traditional. I'd grown bored of the loose shirts and skirts I had been wearing. Today, I decided to embrace the Indian style lehenga. Though it wasn't revealing-except for its slightly broad back neckline tied with a delicate lace. It hugged my curves perfectly. Still, I draped the dupatta over myself properly, even though there were no outsiders in the house. The house help had finished their tasks and left for the day.

"My baccha( child), come here" I said scooping him into my arms and planting a soft kiss in his forehead.

"Auntie, take me outside! I want to play." he said pouting his little face adorably.

"Okay dear. Your aunt will take her cute baby there" I replied with a soft chuckle.

"Yayy. You're the sweetest" he said beaming.

I carried him to the lawn, and soon we were running around, laughing and playing. Muneeb's infectious joy was the perfect distraction from the storm raging in my mind.

As he ran ahead, giggling, I chased after him, clutching the folds of my long lehenga.

"Muneeb, my baccha, slow down...you'll.. " My words caught in my throat as I stumbled, accidentally stepping on my lehenga. Before I knew it, I fell forward, landing on the ground with a loud thud.

A low whimper escaped my lips as pain shot through my left ankle. Just as I tried to sit up, a cold, strong pair of arms slid around my waist, pulling me up effortlessly. Startled, I turned to find Rayan kneeling beside me, his brows furrowed with concern.

How come he was so early at home!

Without a word, he lifted me to my feet and guided me to the swing on the lawn, kneeling before me.

"Are you hurt? Let me see," he said, his voice laced with genuine worry.

"I think it's sprained," I murmured, wincing as his fingers brushed against my ankle.

"Anywhere else?" he asked, his tone softening.

"Maybe my knee," I admitted hesitantly.

Without warning, he yanked the hem of my lehenga up to my thighs.

"What are you doing? Muneeb is here! And the guards..." I protested, mortification rushed on my face.

He sighed. "He's a kid, busy playing. And do you really think I'd let anyone see you like this? The guards can't see from this angle. Rest assured."

I fell silent as his sharp gaze fell in on the bruise forming on my knee.

"Seriously, Hazel? Look at what you've done to yourself!" he almost growled, his voice rising slightly.

"I just stepped on my lehenga," I muttered defensively.

"You don't need to wear something that causes you trouble," he retorted.

"I felt like wearing it," I shot back.

His lips twitched, but he said nothing. Instead, he gently scooped me up in his arms, calling out to Muneeb with his free hand. He carried us both inside, one arm cradling me and the other holding Muneeb, who babbled cheerfully.

This man! What did he think of himself? A wrestler or bodybuilder?

Once inside, he handed Muneeb over to the nanny and carried me to his room. Gently, he set me on the couch and retrieved the first aid kit.

"I can manage," I began, but he cut me off.

"I can handle this much, Édesem. I've been treating my own wounds since I was a teenager."

I watched in stunned silence as he worked. His fingers moved deftly, applying ointment and bandaging my knee with care. Then he lowered my lehenga and began massaging my ankle.

It felt strange to see the infamous Sarfaraaz Talukder kneeling on the floor, in front of a woman- the very woman he tried to break once.

Now as he was taking care of me, looking more humane. It just felt too unreal.

"I know I'm handsome, but staring won't help your ankle," he quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Who's staring?" I shot back, my cheeks heating.

"You, Hazel. You know I'm right," he said, chuckling.

Before I could respond, he twisted my ankle gently. A sharp popping sound echoed in the room, followed by instant relief.

"Better now?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Good. But if I see you wearing something that trips you again, I'll tear it off and make you wear it like lingerie," he said, his tone darkening as his eyes trailed over me.

My breath hitched. This man! How could he switch from concern to shamelessness so quickly?

Still, I mustered the courage to reply. "I'll wear whatever I like. It's not like I'll fall every time."

"Theek hai..jo apko pasand hai vo pehniye..lekin yaad rakhiyega...ise utarunga toh mein hi", he said, his smirk deepening.

(Fine. Wear what you like,But remember, I will be the one taking it off.)

My eyes widened in disbelief. Done. Over. Sarfaraaz Talukder turned a comedian from a mafia king.

Ignoring him I got up from the couch to go to my room despite the pain in my ankle, he caught me from behind.

"Wait!" he said in a commanding voice.

"What now?" I asked.

"Your dupatta. Wear it before I lose control," he said pointing towards my dupatta which fell on the couch accidentally, his voice thick with desire.

I froze at my place. Was this dress that tempting I never knew.

Before I could respond his warm lips met my expose back, lingering before giving a gentle bite.

And my pulse quickened at this intimate contact.

"Rayan!"

"Hmmm?" he hummed not removing his lips from my shoulder.

"Let me go" I said firmly.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense. "I couldn't help it. That mole on your shoulder was too tempting. I had to mark it," he murmured, his fingers tracing the spot.

"You always do this," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I hate you for it."

"When it comes to I just can't resist myself. So I blame it on you for being my drug, Hazel. Now, it looks more beautiful. With my hickey on it ." He muttered his softly, his lips brushing the spot again before draping me with the dupatta.

Blush crept on my face even before I could stop it. And to my surprise he scooped me up again and started walking.

"Rayan!"

"Relax. I'm taking you to your room. Take a rest and don't move too much. I'll send your food to your room." he said in a steady voice.

As he placed me on the bed and turned to leave, he paused, taking a deep breath.

"When do you want to go there? Your father's house?" he asked, his voice strained.

Tension filled the air. "Are you sure you can do this?" I asked hesitantly.

"I'll never be ready, Hazel," he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. "But I have to. For you. It's the only way I can try to make up for what I've done."

His words left me speechless.

"Tomorrow," I said finally. "It's his birthday. Maybe he'll listen to me that day."

He nodded, though his eyes darkened with resistance. "Okay," he said, his voice resolute.

And with that, he walked away, leaving me to process the man who was slowly unraveling before me.

___________________________________

Though I had told her that I'll go to meet her father - Major Shafiq Hussein, I don't know whether I could calm myself when I would face him.

The mere thought of him made my blood boil, my fists itching to clench.

But I closed my eyes, forcing the anger to subside. Instead, I let the image of her-my Hazel-calm the storm within me. I took a deep breath and chanted, "It's for her. Clear her name. Don't let her suffer for something she didn't do"

I know she won't forgive me that easily so it's the prime step to make her understand that I'm serious about her. That I could change. That I would change.

A beep sound from my phone pulled me back from my thoughts. I narrowed my eyes as I checked the text and my lip curved upward for a mysterious smirk.

Now I must visit Major Shafiq Hussein I said to myself.

___________________________________

I couldn't sleep. Not even for a second.

Tension, anxiety, and a faint thread of excitement swirled through my mind, leaving me restless.

This was the first time I hadn't wished Baba a happy birthday before anyone else. It broke my heart. The ache was unbearable, and I could barely wait to see him, to hug him, to explain everything.

But another thought also crept in my mind : will he even let me?

Arrgh! I groaned, shaking my head. Tania, think positive! Baba isn't heartless. He'll embrace you once he knows the truth.

The faint call of the Azaan reached my ears, pulling me out of my thoughts. I rose from bed, performed my ablution, and prayed.

"Ya Allah please melt my father's heart. Pretty please."

Feeling slightly lighter, I made my way to Muneeb's room to give him his usual morning kiss. But to my surprise, I found Rayan there. He was already leaning over Muneeb, planting a gentle kiss on his sleeping forehead.

It was unusual for him to wake this early as he had issues with sleeping.

Maybe...

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" I asked softly.

"Seems like you didn't either," he replied with a faint chuckle.

I gave him a dry smile before heading to Marshmallow's bowl to fill it with food. He followed me, lingering silently like a lost puppy.

"You need something?" I asked, not turning to look at him.

"Nope," he replied, scratching his hair awkwardly.

I hesitated before speaking again. "You can delay the meeting if you want. I don't want any scene there, Rayan." My voice came out softer than I intended, almost pleading.

He sighed deeply.

Then, without warning, he pulled me into a back hug, resting his face in the crook of my neck. His stubble grazed my skin, surging an unfamiliar warmth through me.

"I won't. I'll spill the truth and prove your innocence. Trust me" he reassured me. I turned slightly to meet his dark brown eyes and they reflected some kind of warmth I never knew he had it.

"O..okay." I murmured. My fingers brushing against his cheek "I'm putting my trust on you. Don't break it".
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2 hours later, I was ready.

Knowing it'll be a journey of a couple of hours, I wore a comfortable off-white full-sleeved Anarakali dress with a matching hijab to cover my hair.

Once I was done I went downstairs to see him in a sleek black three-piece suit, looking dangerously handsome as always.

"Shall we?" he asked with a faint smile. But his eyes betrayed him. The smile hadn't reached them, and I could see the storm brewing beneath.

I nodded silently, following him to the car, my heart pounding with every step.

___________________________________

Sarfaraaz's car had come to a smooth halt at the gates of the Hussein mansion. It looked grand and luxurious, though it paled in comparison to Sarfaraaz's own lavish residence.

Tania had stepped out of the car hesitantly, her trembling hands clutching a bouquet of white tulips-her father's favorite flower. Her hazel eyes had been fixed on the grand entrance, clouded with anxiety.

Sarfaraaz had followed her out, his expression unreadable, his hands buried deep in his pockets as if restraining his emotions. For a moment, he had stood there, observing her. Then, with a sharp breath, he had pulled his right hand free and reached for hers.

Her icy fingers had startled at his touch, but she had looked up at him, startled by the warmth his hand offered.

"Let's go inside, Hazel," he had said softly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar gentleness.

She had nodded, and they had begun to walk. Sarfaraaz had deliberately slowed his strides, ensuring their steps aligned. Despite the turmoil swirling between them, their combined presence had been commanding, impossible to ignore. They had moved like a pair of opposites tangled by an unspoken fated connection-beauty with her beast, a ray of light and shadow.

As they had entered the mansion, Sarfaraaz's grip on her hand had tightened. Tania's breath had hitched, and she had felt the tension radiating from him as they approached the living room.

"How dare you step inside this house!"

The venomous voice had sliced through the air like a whip. Tania had frozen, her gaze snapping to the side. A woman in her late twenty had stood there, her features sharp with anger.

"Mahima Api..." Tania's voice had cracked as she had whispered her sister's name. She had untangled herself from Sarfaraaz's grasp and taken a hesitant step forward.

"Why are you here, Tania?" Mahima had spat, her eyes narrowing with disdain. "Is this man your lover? The one you disgraced us for?"

Sarfaraaz's jaw had clenched, his fingers curling into fists. The air around him had darkened, his restrained fury evident.

"It's good that you came here, My time has saved" a deep, authoritative voice had interrupted, silencing the room.

Both Sarfaraaz and Tania had turned toward the source.

Major Shafiq Hussein.

The man Sarfaraaz loathed more than anyone else had wheeled himself into view, his expression cold and commanding as ever.

Sarfaraaz's nails had dug into his palms, his composure threatening to unravel as he had stared at the man he held responsible for the ruins of his life. His eyes had burned with an intensity that had promised retribution, yet he had held back...for her..for now.

The room had been thick with tension, each unspoken word a loaded weapon waiting to be unleashed. And at the center of it all had stood Tania, caught between the man - her Baba and the husband who had become both her protector and her destroyer.
___________________________

"Baba!" My voice cracked as I ran toward him, clutching the bouquet in my trembling hands. I threw my arms around him, desperate for the comfort of his embrace.

"Happy Birthday," I murmured against his chest, my voice barely audible. "I hope I'm not too late."

For a fleeting moment, I felt him stiffen under my touch. Hope stirred within me, though fragile and fleeting. But then, like a storm unleashed, he pushed me away.

"Don't call me that anymore," he said, his voice cutting through me like a blade. "We don't have that kind of relationship. Not anymore. And it's official."

Astonished I stared at him, my heart pounding. "Wha... What do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling, fear clawing at my chest.

"You are disowned by me," he said coldly. "From now on, you and I have no relationship."

It felt as if lightning had struck me. My legs threatened to give way, but I forced myself to stay still. The bouquet in my hand slowly fell on the ground.

"And isn't he the son of a traitor?" Baba continued, his words laced with venom. "The fraud Jahangir Talukder's son? I saw him on television. So you eloped and married him? How could you? Have all my morals and teachings been wasted on you?"

I flinched at his words, my body trembling. But before I could respond, Sarfaraaz took a step forward. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.

No, no, no. Not here. Not now.

I turned to him, pleading silently.
Please don't. For me.

Something in my eyes must have reached him because he stopped, though his entire body vibrated with restrained fury.

"Baba," I continued, kneeling before him. "Please, just listen to me. Let me explain about my marriage..."

"I've heard enough," he interrupted, his voice rising. "There is no place for a traitor in my life. This is the last time I'll say it. Get out of my house!"

His words thundered in my ears, and tears spilled down my cheeks like a broken dam. My chest ached as though my heart was being ripped apart.

Before I could crumble completely, I felt Sarfaraaz's strong hands pull me up, steadying me. I looked up at him, his expression dark and unreadable. Yet there was something in his touch that made me feel less alone, if only for a moment.

"And how dare you come here?" Baba's voice lashed out again, dragging me back to the harsh reality. "Don't you feel any shame, knowing I was the one who exposed your father-in-law's crimes? Do you think a suicide could ever erase his sins?"

I saw it then-the last thread of Sarfaraaz's restraint stripping away. He set me aside gently before stepping toward Baba, his hands gripping the armrests of the wheelchair.

"Sarfaraaz, no!" I whispered, horrified. My eyes darted to the gun tucked into his waistband, and panic seized me.

Without thinking, I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around him tightly from behind. "Rayan, please," I whispered urgently. "Please don't. Remember our Örökké a tiéd."

I didn't even know what the Hungarian words meant, but he made me say it everyday, and I prayed they would calm him.

For a moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, I felt his muscles relax. He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping my arms as he took a deep, measured breath.

I stepped forward again. My voice cracked, but I forced myself to speak.

"I came here thinking you'd at least give me a chance to explain myself," I said, my words trembling yet resolute. "I thought you'd care enough to know how I've been-how I've survived-since you abandoned me. But I see now I don't matter to you. Not to you, not to my sisters. Am I even your child? Is your reputation and ego more important than your own daughter?"

My tears flowed freely now, but my voice grew steadier with every word.

"Fine," I said, my heart breaking with every syllable. "From today onward, you only have two daughters. Pretend I never existed."

I turned to Sarfaraaz, my voice firm. "Rayan, take me home. They don't deserve any explanation."

I glanced back at Baba-no, Major Shafiq-one last time. For a split second, I thought I saw something in his eyes. Regret? Affection? No. I couldn't let myself believe that anymore.

Sarfaraaz wrapped his arm around me, steadying me as we walked out of the house. I didn't look back again.

My heart clenched painfully as I realized this would be the last time I ever stepped foot in the home I once called mine. My world had closed its doors to me, forever.

And the man responsible for it-the one who had destroyed everything...was the very person I was now clinging to.

My husband. My annihilator. Sarfaraaz Talukder Rayan.
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The air inside the car was suffocating, heavy with tension and unspoken words. Tania sat silently, tears streaming down her face as she stared out at the road ahead. Sarfaraaz's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white with the force of his frustration and helplessness.

Unable to bear the silence or her muffled sobs, he pulled the car over to the roadside. Slowly, he reached out to touch her trembling hands, his expression softening.

"Don't..." she whispered, her voice barely audible but firm.

He sighed, the rejection cutting deep, but he refused to give up. Leaning toward her, he attempted to pull her into a comforting embrace.

"Not now... Please," she cried, her voice cracking with pain.

Her plea froze him in place. He withdrew reluctantly, his gaze lingering on her tear-streaked face for a moment before returning to the wheel. Without another word, he resumed driving, his heart heavy with guilt and regret.

The rest of the journey was shrouded in silence, thick and unbearable. When they finally arrived at Sarfaraaz's mansion, Tania stepped out of the car without a glance or a word, leaving him sitting in the driver's seat, staring after her.

Though the fire of his own emotions burned within him-anger at her father, frustration at his failure to accomplish the task he intended to do ...he chose to give her the space she needed. For now.
_____________________

Two Days Later

The silence had stretched for two agonizing days. Tania had shut herself away, refusing to see him or even acknowledge his presence. Frustration clawed at Sarfaraaz until he could bear it no longer. He marched to her room and pushed the door open, his heart sinking at the sight before him.

She was sitting on the edge of the French window, her delicate frame silhouetted against the night sky. Her gaze was distant, fixed on the stars, her expression blank.

"Hazel," he called softly, his voice laced with worry.

She didn't respond, didn't even flinch at the sound of his voice. He moved closer, leaning against the opposite edge of the window, his eyes never leaving her face.

"How long are you planning to avoid me?" he asked, his tone a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "You know your silence is killing me."

A faint, dry smile tugged at her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "What about me, Rayan? Do you even know how I'm feeling?"

"Haze.."

She cut him off, her voice trembling but resolute. "How can I talk to you like before, knowing you are the reason for my destruction? My world crumbled because of you. My family disowned me because of you. I lost my identity... because of you. How can I be the wife you want me to be?"

Her words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. He could feel the weight of her pain, the truth in her accusations. His breathing grew heavier, guilt clawing at his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, he took a deep breath and cupped her tear-streaked face in his hands. "So what do you want, Hazel? Tell me, and I'll give it to you. I could be your everything if you want me to be"

Tania looked at him, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. "What if I don't want you, Sarfaraaz?"

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