The late afternoon sunlight filtering through the blinds and the way the old building creaked reminded me that this office was my second home. The job was demanding, starting an advertising firm on my own was always going to be demanding, but it wasn't just that. In my little office, I could control things. Slowly, I'd let those four walls become my whole world, and I didn't know who I would be without them. This was my place, something I had built and created with my ideas and Salaar's help.

Salaar.

My face warmed up. My husband. My partner in crime. My confidant.

My body shuddered as I remembered how he'd found me that day. Shriveled up and crumpled in a corner.

I'd been excited to present, eager for that promotion—he was taking an interest in my work, and as an executive with more experience, he could give me pointers. I'd been lively and engaging, making sure to keep my points succinct and short. As soon as I was done, I'd turned towards him, my eyes on his blank face. After a moment of tense silence—the only sound of the ticking clock—he'd laughed, a small caustic sound. His fingers curled around my wrist and warning bells went off in my head.

I tried to pull my hand back, but he gripped it firmly. behind my back, slamming it into the wooden podium with a fast jerk twisted my wrist with more force.

I shook away the memory, rubbing my upper arm absently where the small, round bruises had taken two weeks to fade.

We were in a much better place now. Healing, moving forward. Funnily, moving out of Salaar's house had allowed me to grow closer to him. There wasn't a night we didn't talk. Not a thing I couldn't tell him.

"Rania," I jumped a mile into the air. "Sorry, I should have announced myself."

I stared at his profile, the space between us seeming to shrink as he held my stare. My heart rate picked up, and my skin flushed, a small smile settling over my lips. "Why are you here?"

"Didn't you say you were bored?"

I leaned against the wall. "Didn't you have a work thing?" He moved forward with the delicious promise of something more in his eyes. My cheeks flamed, and a swirl of excitement twisted low in my body.

"I've got a better idea."

Storefronts and restaurants lined the streets, filled to the brim. We slipped through the side, looking for a secluded spot on the beach, where white twinkle lights strung above us made the space feel magical. We sat in the shadows, both of us taking in the sight of the water and stealing small quick glances at each other's profile. It was so strange to sit next to him again, next to the body with which I had become so familiar, but with so much distance between us.

His voice broke the silence, the low rumble stirring something in me. "Is your mother still celebrating?"

"She's over the moon," I answered wrapping my arms around my knees and rocking forward, my feet sinking into the sand. It had been a month since I'd left his place and according to Ammi, my marriage was over. The woman had wanted me out of the house the moment I'd graduated and now she couldn't for my marriage to fall apart.

Silence fell between us again, but it wasn't uncomfortable, just unfinished. I toyed with the ring on my ring finger, deciding where to begin.

"Do you still want to stay there?" Nope, I could not handle my mother for another minute. Her ongoing smear campaign against Salaar and his family had very slowly but persistently chipped away at my patience and I was ready to jump ship. "I mean, Ammi, Abba, and Ayesha will be returning soon and they might ask about you..."

I looked up at him, my heart racing at a hundred miles a minute. His cheeks were a little red—as if he was embarrassed about what he'd said. "Only if you want to. I won't force you."

"I know."

His legs stretched out beside me, his eyes on the darkening sky. "They've all grown so fond of you. They never had that connection with-" he paused and looked at me. Silence erupted between us, the gentle lapping of the water the only sound for a few precarious seconds.

"You can say her name Salaar. I promise I won't get jealous," I teased, salvaging the situation. I wanted to know what had happened. What had made him lose the woman he had so clearly loved. A small smile graced his lips and he nodded, turning to look at me.

"That's fair. I mean, there isn't much to tell. Aiman was too bright for us. Too much."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Do you think I'd consider it a bad thing?" I shook my head. "She wasn't ready to commit and I wasn't going to ask her to stay."

"Maybe she needed some time?"

"Are you trying to get me to empathize with my former wife?" I shrugged and he laughed, low and hearty.

"I'm just trying to understand. You've been so understanding of my situation, I just don't understand how you didn't try to-"

"Fix it? Keep her?"

"For a lack of better terms, yes."

He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe because we were young?"

"But you loved her."

"I thought I loved her," he corrected gently. "She was everything I thought I'd wanted, and she thought I was her equal. Until she decided I was not."

"Oh," Why had he moped around in the office then?

"Are you jealous now?"

"Do you want me to be jealous?"

"A guy can hope can't he?" I knew a blush was rising on my cheeks, so I looked out toward the water glistening under the sinking sun. The breeze picked up, whipping my hair onto my face, and he sat up leaning forward, his fingers a centimeter away.

"May I?" My stomach and heart traded places, and I slid my clammy hands over my thighs nodding briefly. His fingers swept to tuck the strands back for me in the kind of romantic gesture I'd convinced myself I didn't want when I'd decided that men weren't worth the risk. But with his fingertip lingering along with my ear, a flurry of sensation ran up my spine.

"Listen," Salaar said, his voice low and oddly husky. "I know you can't just flip a switch and trust people. I've been reading about what survivors go through, and I don't want to push you into anything."

There it was. The thing that had been building between us for the past month. Something we'd avoided since our marriage. My mouth opened to speak, even though I had no idea what would come out. "And I'm not going to assume anything. I've seen how you've adjusted with my family. I just don't want you to feel obligated to stay in this relationship."

"Oh," What did I want? Did I want to stay? Did he want me to say? "What about your revenge? Getting your grandfather's company back?"

"I-" He ran his long fingers through his hair, blowing out a frustrated sigh, confusion flitting over his face.

"That's what you wanted, that's what we agreed on," He turned to face me, his expression inscrutable and his gaze intensified, those brown eyes searching my face.

"I did. We did," he said, and every muscle in my body knotted.

"Then what's changed?"

"I..." the ringing of his phone cut our conversation short. "Give me a second," I nodded, staring at the sea, watching it reflect the confusion swirling within me.

What did I even want him to say? That he wanted to continue this relationship? To make it real? Did I want that? More importantly, did he want that?

"We're leaving," my head snapped to look at him.

"What?"

"That was Uncle Asghar. Tauqeer's bail was approved today, he was released from jail at five. Uncle Asghar was out of town so he didn't see the memo on his desk," Panic and hysteria flooded into me, tightening my chest, bringing on an anxiety attack.

It was always too good to be true. This whole thing had been too good to be true. "You said you'd protect me," the words came out in a broken whisper.

His face hardened and he knelt in front of me. "I will protect you."

"He's out there Salaar! He could come after me. He will come after me..."

"Sshhh... Rania. Rania. Rania listen to me!" His knee bumped mine as he turned me to face him, lacing my fingers through his. They were surprisingly warm and curled with mine immediately, sending an unexpected rush through me. I remembered how tightly I'd gripped his T-shirt in the entryway the night I'd been attacked, how desperate I'd been for connection. "He is not getting near you. He is not going to touch you, I won't let him. Never."

"He's going to come after you."

"He won't leave with his limbs intact."

"He will try to hurt you."

"He is not my concern, you are," His voice was deep and low making our only physical connection—our fingers in the sand—feel like an anchor, something solid and stable.

Definitive.

Safe.

"Salaar?" He hummed in response. "There's no switch to flip, and I am scared," I felt his eyes on my face but I looked ahead, not wanting to lose my courage. "But I don't want to be," I took another measured breath and continued. "I want to be worthy of living a life without fear, without censure."

Without judgement.

Without the stamp of being a spoiled good.

Of not being good enough.

His gaze was intent on mine like he was seeing something rare and cataloging it in every detail. Like he was reading every thought in my head. Like he knew me to the bone. No one had ever looked at me like this."You are worthy of everything and more."

He laced his fingers through mine, an intimate gesture that made me feel strangely girlish. His hand was so much bigger than mine, and a strange sense of safety pooled around me. That was ridiculous, but still, his fingers wrapped around mine in this solid manner kept my doubts and my anxiety at bay as we wandered the pier towards his car.

Throughout the ride back he'd found small ways to touch me since we'd left the beach. Brushing his arm against mine as he opened the passenger side door, or his fingers lingering near mine when he shifted gears. Almost as if he knew the soothing effect his presence had on me. The calm that I felt. The sense of security.

He stopped outside my house, his eyes on the dimly lit porch. I groaned, looking at the light in my parents room. They were still up. "How are they still worried about me? I'm with my husband! I'd texted them and I'd said I'd be late!"

"They're probably waiting for the verdict," He volleyed back, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the empty road in front of us, mouth twisted in the dim light of the console.

"Probably," I muttered getting out of the car. He mimicked my action, getting out and walking towards me.

"You sure you'll be okay? I mean, the offer is still there," I raised a questioning brow. "You can stay at my place if you want."

"And disappoint my mother?"

"I know you're tempted," I swallowed a laugh enjoying how his eyes glittered with mischief.

We reached for the gate and our hands brushed, touched and then stilled. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him settle his palm on the handrail, his thumb grazing the back of my hand, the curiously buzzing sensation thrumming with more force.

Above our joined hands, the curve of his lips grew.The intense warming of his eyes and the porch light switching on and then off in rapid succession was what snapped us out of our dumbfounded silence.

"Rania," I wasn't sure if it was the use of my name or the deep lilt of his voice that made me tense. "It's going to be okay. Get some rest."

"Doubt it, you've thrown away all of my sleeping pills," he laughed and pulled me closer, gently tugging me towards him. My heart crashed around my chest, bouncing around from one rib to another. Making it incredibly hard to breathe.

To think.

"Offer still stands. Come with me."

Tears stung the back of my eyes. Oh how I wanted to.

"I want to, more than anything," My voice came out softer than normal. Goosebumps prickled my skin as the air around us seemed to thicken and become charged, electrifying the night.

I will. One day.

"I know," His smile widened, and his eyes sparkled with an emotion I couldn't place.

I waved goodbye from my doorway, watching him drive away, wishing I'd taken him up on his offer.

"Don't forget to lock up!" Mehak called out as she stepped into her car. I waved to let her know I'd heard her. Locking the office door, I did a little celebratory skip, feeling proud of the new client we'd signed on.

Salaar would definitely love to hear about this one. This was right up his alley. A computer company looking to expand its outreach. I texted to let him know I was going home, a small routine we'd established after we'd heard of Tauqeer's bail two weeks ago.

Salaar usually was the one to pick me up and to drop me home, but after a week and my mother's nagging, I'd told him to let me do this on my own. I couldn't cower forever.

Plus, the days were still long enough that I got home before the sunset.

"Well hello. Didn't think I'd see you here," I whirled around, the keys falling from my hand. How was he here? How had he found me?

My eyes widened as I saw the star of my nightmares standing in front of me in a very ill fitted black suit. His perfectly coiffed hair was now disheveled and his face had a few choice bruises on it. Those thick fingers clenched and unclenched as an oily smile slithered onto his face, his eyes radiating hatred.

"Stay away from me," using my most detached voice, I tried to move around him, though he blocked my path and stepped forward, edging me closer to the wall.

"Thought I'd grace you with a visit. My wife left me last week."

"Good for her," I looked around to see if anyone was walking by. No one seemed to be in the vicinity. I had no choice but to scream and hope someone could hear me.

"My career is in shambles. No one wants me near the company I'd built."

"You mean the company built by Salaar's grandfather?"

He moved forward, using his size to box me in, to make me cower, but I was so sick of being scared. "That cripple couldn't run this company."

"You forged his signature," His smirk froze in a mirthful grimace.

"He gave me power of attorney."

"After you forged fake bank statements leading him to believe that the company was going bankrupt! You took his money, his ownership and you have the audacity to say that you built this company? You're a liar and a thief!"

"Doesn't matter, does it? His grandchild couldn't get the company back and now I get his wife. A fair trade don't you think? After all, he is the reason I lost my job."

"You were fired from your own company, I'd call that karma."

"Doesn't matter what you call it. I'm going to finish what I started in the office that day. This time, he won't be here to save you."

Panic and fear rushed through me and my adrenaline surged. "Where is he? What have you done to him?"

His face brightened, and he sneered again, the resulting expression a horrific mask, his hands coming to grip my shoulders."Busy with something he wanted since he was a little boy."

"Get off me!" I pushed him, panic rising in my voice. I clung to the fact he couldn't do anything too extreme because of where we were. He was too smart for that. Wasn't he?

"Tauqeer, let me go!" I tried to wriggle free, but he was stronger, his pelvis against mine, hands moving down to hold my arms.

"You aren't in charge here." His voice was low, and his fingers dug into my skin.

I tried to knee him and failed, only grazing his thigh. His eyes were dark, and his expression crazed. He was hurting me, humiliating me, he was controlled and put together. I worried, for the first time, that he wasn't weighing out the possibility of getting caught.

"Tauqeer," I pleaded. "Let go of me."

He dropped his other hand, yanking at his belt. I closed my eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

But he didn't get to win, not this time.

He grabbed a handful of my hair, wrenched my head back, and slapped me hard across the face. Flashes of light dotted my vision as the pain registered. With all he'd done, he'd never hit me in the face. It had always been somewhere that could be hidden. At that, one thought blared in my mind. He's out of control.

Then there were Salaar's words. You're worth everything and more.

I wasn't the same person I'd been before. I'd rediscovered my own strength, and I deserved better than this. I didn't have to fold. I could fight and I could save myself. I screamed as loud as I could in his ear, and he clamped a hand over my mouth. Fighting my instinct to pull his hand away, instead, I wriggled an arm free and jammed the heel of my palm up into his nose.

I knew I should run, but I wanted to go on the offensive, to kick him or punch him again. In that split second of indecision, he grabbed me, his hand viselike around my wrist.

Well, crap.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Here you go. Thoughts? Comments?