The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of Zehra's bedroom, casting soft shadows on the walls. She stirred in her sleep, her body finally giving in to exhaustion after days of restless nights. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Abbas, seated in the chair near her bed.

He had fallen asleep at some point during the night, his head tilted back against the chair, his mismatched eyes closed, and his arms crossed over his chest. The sight of him-so unguarded, so steadfast in his quiet protection-made her chest tighten.

Mera saaya.

The phrase drifted into her mind unbidden. My shadow. That's what he had become-always there, just out of reach, yet undeniably present.

Zehra pushed the thought aside, sitting up carefully so as not to wake him. But her movements must have been too loud, as Abbas's eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times before his gaze locked onto hers, his expression softening.

"Good morning," he said, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," she replied, her voice quiet.

Abbas stretched, standing up from the chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she admitted, though her hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket.

He nodded, his mismatched eyes scanning her face. "Good. You needed the rest."

She looked away, her cheeks warming under his gaze. "You didn't have to stay the whole night."

"I know," he said simply. "But I wanted to."

Her heart skipped a beat at the quiet sincerity in his tone.

Later that day, Zehra found herself back at Zehra Essentials, though her focus was fractured. Ameer's threat loomed in the back of her mind, and every shadow seemed like a potential danger.

Abbas seemed to sense her unease. He had taken to working in the office beside hers, finding reasons to be close without overwhelming her.

"Zehra," he called as he stepped into her office.

She looked up, grateful for the distraction. "Yes?"

"I need you to approve this for the website," he said, handing her a printed draft.

She took the paper, scanning it quickly. The content was fine, but her mind wandered as she read, Abbas's presence a constant weight. She set the paper down, looking at him.

"You don't have to babysit me, you know," she said, her tone half-teasing.

Abbas raised a brow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Babysitting? That's what you think I'm doing?"

She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "What else would you call it?"

"Protecting," he said simply.

Zehra sighed, shaking her head. "I'm not a damsel in distress, Abbas."

"No, you're not," he said, stepping closer. His gaze softened, and his voice dropped to a gentler tone. "You're my jaan, and I'd do anything to keep you safe."

The endearment caught her off guard, the familiarity and tenderness in the word sending a warmth through her chest.

"Jaan?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It means 'my life,'" Abbas explained, a small smile tugging at his lips. "And that's what you are to me, Zehra. My life."

Her throat tightened, and she quickly looked away, afraid of the emotions his words stirred. "You're too much, Abbas."

"Maybe," he said, his tone teasing now. "But you're worth it."

That evening, Abbas insisted on taking Zehra to dinner at one of his favorite restaurants. The cozy atmosphere of the place was a welcome change from the chaos of the past few days, and for once, Zehra felt herself relaxing.

As they ate, Abbas regaled her with stories from his childhood, his mismatched eyes lighting up with amusement as he recounted his younger sister Zaina's mischievous antics.

"She once swapped the sugar with salt before my parents' tea party," Abbas said, shaking his head with a laugh. "She thought it would be funny. My mother wasn't as amused."

Zehra chuckled, the sound surprising even herself. "She sounds... lively."

"That's one way to put it," Abbas said with a grin.

Their conversation flowed easily, the tension between them giving way to something lighter, something warmer. For the first time in a long time, Zehra allowed herself to enjoy the moment, free from the weight of her past.

But as they left the restaurant, the reprieve was shattered.

Zehra froze when she spotted a man standing across the street, partially obscured by the shadows. Even from the distance, she recognized him-Ameer.

Her breath hitched, her chest tightening with panic. Abbas immediately noticed her change in demeanor, his eyes narrowing as he followed her gaze.

"Stay here," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Abbas, no-" Zehra began, but he was already moving, his strides purposeful as he crossed the street.

Ameer smirked, clearly unbothered by Abbas's approach. "Ah, the knight in shining armor," he drawled, his tone mocking.

"Stay away from her," Abbas said, his voice cold and steady.

"Or what?" Ameer sneered. "You think you can protect her from everything? She'll always be the girl with scars-no matter how much you dress her up or parade her around like she's something special."

Abbas's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "She's more than you'll ever understand," he said, his tone deadly calm. "And if you come near her again, you'll regret it."

Ameer laughed, stepping closer. "Big talk, but I'm not scared of you. You can't erase the truth, no matter how hard you try."

Before Abbas could respond, a car pulled up, and Ameer slipped inside, the door slamming shut behind him. Abbas stood there for a moment, his fists still clenched, before turning back to Zehra.

She was trembling, her arms wrapped around herself as she struggled to hold back tears. Abbas crossed the street quickly, his expression softening as he reached her.

"Zehra," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched at the contact but didn't pull away, her breathing uneven. "He's not going to stop, Abbas."

"He will," Abbas said firmly. "I'll make sure of it."

Her eyes met his, filled with fear and uncertainty. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You can," Abbas said, his voice steady. "You're stronger than you think, jaan."

The endearment settled over her like a balm, and for a moment, she let herself believe him.