Ava's small steps led her to Ibrahim, her grip tightening on the file as she neared him. She hesitated for a moment before stopping beside him. One hand held the file, while her other hung loosely by her side, the chill in the air biting at her fingers.
"How was the interview? Did everything go well?"
"Yeah. They're doing the verification now."
He took the file from her hand, "Let's go outside. It'll take an hour for them to finish."
"How do you know it'll take an hour?" she frowned.
"I studied here. I know exactly how slow they can be."
The wind had picked up outside, blowing in sharp bursts as they walked down the pavement, heading in the direction of Russell Square.
"Where are we going?" she asked, still keeping a bit of distance between them as they walked side by side.
"Russell Square," Ibrahim answered simply.
It had been a long time since he last walked these streets, and even though many things were the same, he noticed the subtle changes—the new shops, the altered facades of buildings, the unfamiliar faces rushing past.
Russell Square wasn't far from the University. The two places were connected by wide streets lined with trees, their bare branches swaying in the cold December breeze.
When they reached Russell Square, the park looked serene and quiet, the frost making the grass glisten under the pale afternoon light. Benches were scattered around the square, some occupied by a few bundled-up people reading or quietly enjoying the winter scene. The fountain at the center of the square was still running, but the water seemed slower. The trees, bare of leaves, stood like silent witnesses to the cold winter day. The square had a timeless beauty to it. The quietness of the space was peaceful.
As they reached a bench near the center, Ibrahim took a seat. He glanced up at Ava, who was still standing, arms crossed.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the space beside him.
Ava stood there, looking down at him, her mind racing with a question she could no longer hold back, "Did you apply for my scholarship again just to look good in front of me? To gain my trust?"
Ibrahim took a deep breath, his gaze lowering for a brief moment as if weighing his words carefully. He knew there was no easy way to explain this to Ava, no simple answer that could make her understand why he had done what he did. But yet ...
"I know you won't believe me, but I didn't apply for that scholarship just to gain your trust. I know what I did with the previous scholarship was wrong, and I have no excuses for that. I let my own... insecurities get in the way of what was best for you."
He paused, his eyes meeting hers, "When I found out you were in Thailand, I didn't know how to face you after what I'd done. I needed something—anything—that would give me a reason to stand in front of you again. So, I applied a new scholarship on your behalf. Not because I wanted you to trust me or to make myself look good... but because I knew how much that chance meant to you."
He shifted slightly on the bench, "You deserved that opportunity, and I took it away from you. I know what it feels like to be forced away from something you're passionate about. I've lived it. And that's something I never wanted for you. I didn't do this to play the hero, Baby girl. I did it because it was the least I could do after what I took from you. If you don't want to forgive me, that's fine. I can't ask for that. But I wanted you to have what you deserved. I just didn't want to be the reason you lost another opportunity. I didn't want to be the one standing in the way of your future."
Ava let out a short, ironic smile, the kind that spoke more of pain than amusement. She lowered herself onto the bench beside him, "You don't have to feel guilty. You don't need to sit here, acting like you did this to make things right." She turned her head slightly, "You don't need to make this grand gesture to make me feel bad for you. I know that's not what you're after, but don't think for a second that this will make me forget everything."
He remained silent, his eyes watching her closely, waiting for her to continue.
"You have no idea, do you? How much I was terrified, how much I spent every single day looking over my shoulder, thinking you'd find me. Wondering if you were already on your way, if you'd show up and tear everything apart again. I thought I was finally free, Ibrahim, but that fear never really went away. And then, of course, you found me." She laughed again, "You always find me."
"I don't regret finding you, Ava. I couldn't live with the thought of you being gone. You think you were running away from me, but I was chasing after something I couldn't lose. I can't lose. You're not just some passing thing in my life. You don't just get to walk away and expect me to forget. No... you're needed. By me. More than you can imagine."
His voice lowered further, "I don't regret a single moment I spent searching for you, no matter how much you hate me for it. If you think that fear you felt was bad, imagine the emptiness I felt. I'm not going to let that happen again."
Ava's breath hitched slightly at the intensity of his words, but she masked her reaction. While Ibrahim's gaze lingered on her. He leaned in slightly, "You can stay angry at me, hate me for what I did, for everything. But I don't regret finding you. I never will."
Her hands clenched into fists, "I hate this. This obsession of yours... treating me like some possession, like I'm a thing. I'm done with it. I want my freedom—my life back. I hate everything about what you've done to me. I can't even stand breathing the same air as you anymore. I just want—"
She couldn't finish. Her voice was cut off abruptly as Ibrahim's dark eyes flashed with a sudden fury, his face hardening as he leaned more closer, "Dare to say it. Dare to use the word 'divorce', and you'll see what obsession really looks like."
"What are you going to do? Are you going to drag me back to KL and expect me to live like before? Do you expect me to just sit there, quiet and obedient, while you go on with your business? You think I'll just ignore all the blood on your hands? How many people have you killed, Ibrahim? How many more will you murder in the future?" Her voice cracked with emotion, her fingers trembling as she stared at him, "Maybe it would be better if you just killed me now. At least that way I wouldn't have to see it, to live through this nightmare anymore. Living like this... it's like living in hell."
Ibrahim's entire body stiffened at Ava's words. The mention of her wanting him to kill her was like a match striking against the already volatile tension between them.
His jaw clenched, and in one swift motion, he grabbed her waist, pulling her roughly toward him. The suddenness of it made Ava gasp, her body jerking back as she gripped the handles of the bench with trembling hands, trying desperately to pull herself away from his iron grip. But he was too strong, and the more she struggled, the tighter his hold became.
His face was inches from hers now, "You think death will free you from me? If this is hell, then you will live here with me. You will breathe the same air, feel the same fire. You don't get to run away, not even in death. And if you think for one second that I would ever let you go..." he paused, his grip tightening even further, "...then you don't know who I really am."
Her chest heaved as she tried to steady her breath. Looking away from his face, she tried to breathe.
"So stop fighting," he muttered, "Because wherever you run, I'll find you. There's no place on this earth where you can hide from me. And no one—" his hand slid up to her chin, tilting her face towards him, "—no one will ever take you from me."
Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat louder than the last. The cold winter air of London no longer registered; she didn't feel the bite of the December chill. All she felt was the suffocating grip of Ibrahim's possessiveness. Her body trembled, but it wasn't from the cold—it was fear.
Real, paralyzing fear.
"Y-you're such a madman." Her throat was tight, and she could hardly believe the words had escaped her lips. She wasn't sure if she was saying it to provoke him or if it was just a desperate, hopeless truth spilling from her in the heat of the moment.
"Yeah, that's right," he told with a smirk. "Maybe I am a madman, but I'm your madman, Ava. And for you, I'll be the best. No one will ever love you like I do. No one will ever have you the way I do. I'd destroy the world if it meant keeping you mine."
Without giving her a moment to respond, he closed the small distance between them, his lips crashing against hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. That kiss was was far from gentle. His fingers gripped her chin tighter, keeping her locked in place as if he was making sure she couldn't pull away, couldn't escape this moment, couldn't escape HIM. His hand slid back into her hair, gripping the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer.
Ava's hands fell from the bench, her fingers curling into fists as she felt the overwhelming force of his kiss. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, rolling down her cold cheek, but she couldn't stop it. There was no warmth in that kiss.
Ibrahim pulled back slightly, his lips barely an inch away from hers, his breath warm on her skin. He whispered against her lips, "Hate me all you want. Scream, run, fight me. But you won't leave. Bound to me in ways you'll never escape. And I swear, I'll carve that truth into your soul if I have to."
His obsession, his possessiveness, it seemed to have grown even more since the day he found her from Thailand. It was as if each moment he spent with her only fueled his need to keep her closer, to bind her tighter to him.
Ibrahim's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "Wait here," he said gently, "I'm going to get you some coffee."
The contrast between his dark intensity and this tender tone was unsettling. It was like he could switch between being a tyrant and a lover in the blink of an eye.
He stood up from the bench, reaching into his coat pocket and handing her his phone. "Tell Elara we're coming back to KL tomorrow."
Her eyes darted from his hand to his face, back to the phone, and then back again. She hesitated, but eventually reached out and took the phone from him.
He walked toward one of the small cafés lining Russell Square. There were a few scattered around, some with outdoor seating. The café wasn't far—just a few steps away, close enough that Ava could still see him as he moved through the few tables outside.
In this moment, the person she needed most wasn't her brother. It was Farah. She needed someone who could understand her fear, who would listen without judgment, and Farah was the only one who could offer that comfort right now.
Farah's phone buzzed on the table, and she glanced at the screen, surprised to see Ibrahim's number lighting up. She had just finished her late-night dinner, sitting alone in the flat since Elara was swamped with Jessica's case. She knew this couldn't be good. Ibrahim calling out of the blue wasn't normal.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she picked up the phone. And Ava's voice cut through the silence, "Farah, save me. He's going to hurt me."
Farah's eyes widened in shock, "Ava… what are you… what are you doing with Ibrahim? No... oh no... please don't tell me..."
"He found me," Ava completed the sentence. Farah listened in stunned silence as Ava, through broken sobs, told her the whole story. How he had discovered her in Thailand, how he had dragged her back to London, "He's not going to let me go this time. I want to escape again, Farah... but I can't. I don't have my passport, my phone, or even any money. I have nothing… I'm trapped."
"Calm down. Ava. Calm down. Listen to me. The most important thing right now is that we don't have much time to talk."
Ava's eyes flicked to the café where Ibrahim stood, paying the bill. She could see him moving towards the exit. On the other hand Farah's voice remained steady, "Don't do anything rash. Don't try to escape right now. Ibrahim's bringing you back to KL tomorrow, right? Do that. Come back here."
"But Farah, When I'm back in KL, he'll lock me in Rahman Mansion. He could do worse... He might not let me see Elara, and I know he could stop my studies if he wanted to."
"Ibrahim won't do any of that. I promise you, once you're back in KL, you'll live with Elara, not in the mansion. You have my word, okay? We'll make sure of it." Farah tried her best to make Ava understand.
Ava shook her head slightly, still watching Ibrahim approach. "He'll never agree to that."
"He will, Ava. He just has to. I will figure it out. Just come back tomorrow safely. Elara and I will be at the airport to pick you up."
As soon as Ava saw Ibrahim approaching, she whispered urgently, "He's coming, I have to cut the call."
Farah's voice softened, "Okay, but Ava… one last thing. Do you still love him?"
Ava froze. She tried to find the words. She couldn't. Instead, her silence spoke louder than anything. She swallowed hard, then ended the call without a response, placing Ibrahim's phone on the bench beside her. Did she not know the answer, or was she too afraid to admit it? The question lingered like a dark cloud over her.
....
By the time Ava and Ibrahim returned to the villa, the evening had fallen. The last hints of daylight faded quickly behind thick clouds. At first glance, Ava thought it was just a large house. But earlier that morning, when she saw it from the outside, she realized it wasn't just a house — it was a sprawling villa.
The heavy wooden front door creaked open as Asma, the housemaid, appeared in the entrance. She was in her 50s and had been working for the Rahman family for more than 30 years. The villa, usually empty except for the rare vacation visits, was under Asma's care year-round. She had free reign to bring her family if she wished, but the large, quiet home was still mostly hers to tend to, ensuring it was always ready for the Rahmans' brief stays.
"Welcome home. I've made some soup for you both. It'll be refreshing after spending time in the cold outside."
Ibrahim didn't pause. He unbuttoned his coat and strode past Ava, heading directly upstairs. "Send it to my room," he ordered without looking back.
Ava watched him disappear, her eyes following his form as he ascended the stairs without looking back. Once the sound of his footsteps faded, she exhaled softly.
Taking the coat from Ava's shoulder, Asma led her to the kitchen island. Despite her lack of appetite, Asma ladled a steaming bowl of soup for her, setting it gently before her.
Though Ava wasn't surprised by Asma's attentiveness. From the morning when she'd helped her get ready for the day. It felt safer, sitting with Asma, far away from Ibrahim's gaze.
After serving Ibrahim's meal upstairs, Asma returned to the kitchen and sat across from Ava at the island and started to speak about her family. Ava, still sipping on the warm soup, listened quietly.
Amid her stories, Asma mentioned the villa and how Zafar Rahman had bought it in Samir's name. She explained how much Zafar loved his sons, how this place held memories for the family. But something Asma said next caught Ava's attention.
"They always came here during Christmas… all five of them."
Ava paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth. She asked the question before she could stop herself, "Five? Who's the fifth member?"
Asma faltered, her face momentarily stiffening. It was clear she had slipped up. "Oh, I meant Faisal," she quickly corrected, forcing a smile. "Ibrahim's friend. You know, they've been close for years."
She had made a mistake, and it hit her hard. How could she have said five? Everyone had long forgotten about Zainab Rahman. She wasn't supposed to mention her. Zainab had been erased from the family's conversations as though she never existed. She couldn't make such a mistake now...
Ava simply nodded, pretending to understand. But she knew Faisal hadn't entered Rahman's lives until their university days when Ibrahim was already 20. But the stories Asma had been sharing were of their childhood, long before Faisal ever came into the picture. The fifth member couldn't be Faisal—it was someone else entirely.But why? Who was this mysterious fifth person, and why had they been erased from the family's stories?
Asma quickly shifted the conversation, "Where's your wedding ring?"
Ava glanced at her hand, realizing she hadn't even noticed its absence. Did she lose it? Or did she just leave it somewhere? Either way, it wasn't important to her anymore. Not after everything, "It's not a big deal. Can you give me another room, please? I'm really tired."
"Another room? Won't you sleep together?"
"We had a fight... so please, I just need some space tonight. Will sleep alone."