The faint hum of the hospital monitors was the only sound in the room as the early morning light crept through the blinds. Ahad sat at the edge of a chair, elbows resting on his knees, his sharp eyes fixed on Naira. She was finally asleep, her daughters curled up on either side of her, their small arms wrapped around her protectively as though they feared she might disappear.

Ahad hadn't slept. He didn't know how he could-not after what he'd seen, not with the weight of Naira's haunted gaze still lingering in his mind. Her defiance had struck him, but so had her fragility. She had carried so much pain on her shoulders, yet somehow, she had endured for her daughters.

He leaned back, his mind drifting to his own family. His mother, Romaisa, and his sisters, Zakirah and Humaira, had always been his strength. They had taught him the value of protecting those who couldn't protect themselves, especially women. He couldn't imagine anyone taking that dignity away from them.

Sameer walked in quietly, his expression neutral but his tone hesitant. "Boss, we've arranged a safe house. You can take them there whenever they're ready."

Ahad nodded, his voice low. "Good. I'll handle the rest."

Sameer hesitated. "Are you sure about this? They might not trust us yet."

"They don't have to trust us," Ahad replied, his gaze not leaving Naira. "They just need to feel safe."

When Naira woke up, her body ached in ways she hadn't realized before. The sterile smell of the hospital stung her nose, and the unfamiliar white sheets beneath her felt almost alien. For a moment, she panicked, her hands instinctively reaching for her daughters.

Her heart steadied when she found them beside her, their small hands clutching the stuffed bears they'd been given the night before. They were safe. She was safe.

"Good morning," a deep voice said from across the room.

Her head snapped toward the sound, and she saw him-Ahad Khan. He was leaning against the wall, his scar catching the faint light, his expression unreadable.

"You've been through a lot," he said softly, as if afraid of scaring her. "But you're safe now. No one will hurt you or your daughters again."

Naira sat up slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?"

Ahad's jaw tightened. He had expected the mistrust, but it still stung. "I don't want anything from you," he said firmly. "You've suffered enough. Let me help you."

Her lips trembled, but she quickly set her jaw, refusing to show weakness. "No one helps for free."

Ahad moved closer, pulling a chair beside her bed but keeping a respectful distance. "You're right," he admitted. "Most people don't. But I'm not like most people."

Naira stared at him, trying to decipher the man in front of her. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met-calm, deliberate, and unshakable. Yet there was a kindness in his eyes, something she wasn't used to seeing in men.

"My daughters..." she began, her voice breaking. "They don't deserve any of this."

"No, they don't," Ahad agreed. "And neither do you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked away, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. "What happens now?"

Ahad leaned back, giving her space. "You'll come with me. I have a place for you-a safe house. My team will make sure you're looked after."

Naira shook her head. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not," he said firmly. "You and your daughters deserve a chance to heal. That's all I want to give you."

Before she could respond, one of her daughters stirred, her small face peeking out from behind Naira's arm. The girl's eyes landed on Ahad, and for a moment, she stared at him silently. Then, as if deciding he wasn't a threat, she clutched her stuffed bear tighter and whispered, "Mama, I'm hungry."

Naira's heart ached. Food had always been a struggle, and her daughters had learned not to ask unless they couldn't bear it anymore.

Ahad stood immediately. "I'll get something for them," he said. "Anything they want."

"They're not used to-" Naira started, but Ahad interrupted her gently.

"They'll eat whatever they like," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Later that day, the safe house came into view.

The house was tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, its modest exterior giving no hint of the security measures in place. Ahad had chosen it carefully, ensuring it was equipped with everything Naira and her daughters would need-a warm, welcoming space far removed from the horrors of the warehouse.

As the SUV pulled up, Ahad glanced at Naira. She was staring out the window, her hands gripping her daughters' shoulders protectively.

"This is your new home," he said softly.

Naira hesitated, her brow furrowed. "How do I know this isn't just another trap?"

Ahad's expression softened. "You don't," he admitted. "But I'm asking you to trust me. At least for now."

The door opened, and one of Ahad's team members stepped forward to help, but Ahad raised a hand, stopping him. Instead, he opened the door himself and extended his hand toward Naira.

She looked at it for a long moment before reluctantly taking it. Her daughters followed, clutching her hands tightly as they stepped onto the path leading to the house.

Inside, the girls' eyes lit up at the sight of a brightly colored play area set up in the living room. Small toys, books, and stuffed animals filled the space, and the faint smell of fresh paint lingered in the air.

Naira's chest tightened. "You did all this...for us?"

Ahad nodded. "Your daughters deserve to feel safe. And so do you."

As Naira's gaze swept the room, she felt the smallest flicker of something she hadn't felt in years-hope.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ahad nodded again, his expression serious. "This is just the beginning. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure no one hurts you or your daughters again."

For the first time, Naira believed him.