The days that followed felt like a fragile balance between normalcy and chaos. Zehra threw herself into work at Zehra Essentials, finding solace in the routine. Abbas continued to stay close, his presence grounding her in ways she didn't want to admit.

Yet, the unease lingered. Ameer's shadow loomed in the back of her mind, his threats a constant echo she couldn't shake. Every time she left her apartment or stepped into the office, she scanned the surroundings, her nerves taut with anticipation.

Abbas noticed.

"Jaan," he said one morning, leaning against her office door. His voice was soft but carried that familiar edge of command.

Zehra glanced up from her desk, her brows knitting together. "What is it?"

"You haven't been yourself lately," Abbas said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "What's going on?"

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I'm fine, Abbas. Just tired."

He didn't buy it. She could tell by the way his mismatched eyes narrowed, his expression turning serious.

"Zehra," he said firmly, moving to sit across from her. "Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk," she snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"You never do," Abbas countered, his tone calm but unyielding. "But you need to."

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, her hands twisting in her lap. "I just... I feel like I'm waiting for something terrible to happen. Like he's out there, watching, waiting."

Abbas leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "He won't touch you, Zehra. I won't let him."

His confidence should have reassured her, but instead, it made her chest ache. "You can't control everything, Abbas. He's already gotten too close."

"That's why I'm here," Abbas said, his voice steady. "To make sure he doesn't get any closer."

She met his gaze, her walls crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because you're my life," he said simply, his voice soft. "You're my jaan."

Her breath caught, and she quickly looked away, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

That evening, Abbas insisted on accompanying Zehra to a charity event she had agreed to attend weeks ago. The gala was a glitzy affair, with bright lights, flowing gowns, and endless chatter filling the grand ballroom.

Zehra wore a stunning navy blue evening gown, the delicate beadwork catching the light with every movement. Abbas stayed close by her side, his sharp black sherwani tailored to perfection.

"You don't have to hover," she said, her tone light but teasing.

"I'm not hovering," Abbas replied, smirking. "I'm standing. Completely different."

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a faint smile.

As they moved through the crowd, Zehra felt the weight of countless eyes on her. The attention was nothing new, but tonight, it felt suffocating. Her scars, though faint and mostly hidden, burned with the memory of Ameer's malice.

Abbas noticed her discomfort, his gaze softening. "You're doing fine," he said quietly, his voice steadying her.

"I don't feel fine," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You look beautiful," Abbas said, his tone low and sincere. "And you're stronger than you think."

Her heart swelled at his words, but before she could respond, the evening took a darker turn.

They had just reached the dining area when Zehra froze, her blood running cold. Across the room, leaning casually against a column, was Ameer. His smirk was unmistakable, and his eyes locked onto hers with predatory intent.

"Abbas," she whispered, her voice trembling.

He followed her gaze, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. His body tensed, his mismatched eyes darkening with fury as they landed on Ameer.

"Stay here," Abbas said, his voice sharp and commanding.

"No," Zehra said quickly, grabbing his arm. "Don't cause a scene."

Abbas turned to her, his jaw clenched. "He doesn't get to scare you like this."

"And what will confronting him solve?" she asked, her voice shaking. "He'll just twist it into something worse. Please, Abbas. Let it go."

His fists clenched at his sides, but after a moment, he nodded. "Fine. But I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Zehra exhaled shakily, her grip on his arm loosening. "Thank you."

For the rest of the night, Abbas stayed closer than ever, his presence a wall of protection that shielded her from Ameer's watchful gaze. Zehra felt the tension in his every movement, the way his eyes scanned the room, his hand brushing hers as if to remind her he was there.

When they finally left the event, Abbas's anger was palpable. He didn't speak as he drove them back to her apartment, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Inside, Zehra finally broke the silence. "You're mad."

"Of course, I'm mad," Abbas said, his voice low but intense. "He was there, Zehra. Smirking like he owns the place. Like he owns the right to haunt you."

She swallowed hard, her hands twisting together. "I don't want him to win, Abbas. But I don't know how to fight him."

"You don't have to," Abbas said, his mismatched eyes meeting hers. "That's my job."

Her throat tightened, and she looked away, her emotions threatening to spill over. "I'm scared."

Abbas stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers. "You don't have to be," he said softly. "Not when I'm here."

The tenderness in his voice broke something inside her, and for the first time, she allowed herself to lean into him, her head resting against his chest. Abbas stiffened for a moment before his arms came around her, holding her tightly.

"You're safe, jaan," he murmured, his voice steady. "I promise you, you're safe."

And for the first time in years, Zehra felt like she could believe him.