Nafisa—the reason Ibrahim had destroyed his own blood, the reason he took the life of the man who gave him his name. The night he killed his father, he told himself he was cutting out the disease, removing the poison. He thought after that there would be peace.
She was no longer the young beauty who had once turned his father's head and broken his home apart. The glow of youth had drained from her skin; lines had carved themselves around her eyes and mouth; the fire she once carried was dimmed by age and sickness. But still—it was her right infront of him. Her presence was enough to rip open every scar he thought had healed.
That night, in his rage he had thought of ending them both—Nafisa and her daughter. But something stopped him. Perhaps fate. Perhaps weakness. He spared them.
And when they left for London, he thought it was over. They were gone. Erased. Buried in another world. He believed he had locked that door forever.
But destiny is never merciful.
And now the knife twisted deeper. Because not only was Nafisa here—in his city, under his nose—but her daughter had grown into the very girl sitting beside his sister, clinging to her like family. The same girl who had sobbed into his shoulder moments ago. The same girl he had tried to comfort with pastries and handkerchiefs.
Out of nowhere, a mocking voice seemed to echo in Ibrahim's mind, almost as if someone was whispering directly into his thoughts: "Look at this, Ibrahim… your step-sister, right there, breathing, laughing, alive… and she's not just anyone—she's a close friend of Zainab. Your Zainab. What will you do now? Confront her? Demand answers? Or let this secret weave its claws deeper into your life? How will you protect your real sister from someone who already has a foothold in her world? How will you untangle this web of blood, lies, and fate without destroying everyone you care about? Think carefully… because every choice has a cost. Every move could end in ruin. And the worst part? You can't run. You can't hide. She's here. And the past… the past is laughing at you."
He felt a sudden hand press against his shoulder and turned, only to find Faisal standing there.
"Whom are you watching like a ghost?" Faisal asked, frowning curiously.
Ibrahim's eyes darted back toward the hallway—only to find the spot empty. Perhaps the nurse had taken Nafisa into a room while he was too consumed with thoughts.
Zainab, who had been beside Faisal, didn't wait. She walked briskly toward the room Nayla had entered earlier. She had already seen where her friend was.
Ibrahim suddenly grabbed Faisal's collar with a violent jerk, "Why the hell didn't you tell me it was her? That it was Nafisa?"
Faisal's eyes widened, startled by the sudden attack, "Nafisa? Who's… Nafisa?"
Ibrahim's grip on the collar tightened, crushing the fabric in his fist. His jaw locked as if he was holding himself back from striking Faisal right there. Finally, he let go with a shove that almost made Faisal lose balance. "The woman getting treated here. The one whose bills are being paid with my money."
Faisal blinked, his brain racing to catch up. "Wait… you mean Nayla's mother? What about her?"
Ibrahim's voice dropped lower, "She… is the woman my father married secretly."
"What the actual f—" Faisal broke off, shaking his head. "Ibrahim, I swear, I had no idea. You never said her name before not even showed a picture. You only mentioned your father's second marriage. How could I know it was her? I didn't even handle her hospital file—it was Nayla who filled the form. I—"
"Shut up."
Ibrahim's roar echoed in the corridor, sharp enough to silence everything around them. He stepped closer, "You stand beside me every damn day, and yet you didn't know? You useless fool. If you don't know something as simple as this, then why do I even keep you?"
"Ibrahim, I—"
Ibrahim didn't let him finish. His hand shot forward again, this time gripping Faisal's jaw so tightly that his fingers dug into the flesh of his face.
"I want every detail about them. When they came from London, where they live. By tomorrow morning, those details better be on my table. If I find even one missing line, you will regret the day you were born."
He shoved Faisal's face away again with disgust, then turned his back. But before walking off, he threw one last command over his shoulder.
"And bring Zainab home within ten minutes. If you take even one extra second…" He paused, "…then don't bother coming back. You're fired."
Ibrahim snatched his coat from the chair and stormed off.
Faisal's jaw was aching from Ibrahim's grip. He looked down and saw Ibrahim's cracked phone lying on the table, screen flickering faintly, "God help the ones who stand in his way…"
Ibrahim went straight to his room as soon as he reached the mansion. He ignored his mother Aliya calling him for dinner and did not care. He needed to be alone. He wanted time to think, to feel the anger inside him, and to let it grow. He didn't worry about Zainab getting home late; he knew Faisal would follow orders exactly as he had told.
But the anger inside him needed a place to go. He needed someone to hear it, someone to carry the weight of his fury. Aqil was the only one who knew all of Ibrahim's secrets, and tonight, Ibrahim's words were darker than ever. For Aqil, it took a moment to even process what Ibrahim was saying—it was shocking, even for him. Ibrahim was talking about wiping out Nafisa and her daughter, the thought rolling off his tongue as if he were speaking of crushing insects.
Aqil tried to calm the situation and said they would meet in the office tomorrow to discuss. Slowly, Ibrahim forced himself to settle.
By next day, Amir and Faisal were sitting in front of Ibrahim in his office.
Amir looked troubled, "A little girl… almost the same age as your sister… You really want to kill her? Nayla is just a child, Ibrahim. And Nafisa—she's a primary school teacher. She earns barely enough to live. What will you gain from this? Think about it. In two, three years, Nayla will go to university, build her life. Instead of ending them, why not send Nayla abroad for her studies? Let them live. Ibrahim… have a little fear of God. You don't kill children. You never have. They're innocent. They've done nothing to you. It was your dad who was wrong."
Ibrahim remained calm, almost unnervingly so, leaning back in his chair with one hand resting on his chin. His gaze was distant, scanning some invisible point beyond the walls of his office. "Amir," he said slowly, "I didn't call you here for a lecture. I want suggestions. Not a fucking sermon about what's right and wrong. Keep your heart to yourself, I need your mind."
Before him, on the desk, was a detailed file. Faisal had gathered everything Ibrahim asked for—every scrap of information about Nayla and Nafisa.
Amir took a deep breath, trying to get his point across. "Do you even realize what could have been avoided? The day your father died… I told you to take care of Nafisa. If you had, if you had ensured she had support, resources… they wouldn't even be here today. Nafisa had to return here after your father's death because she had no money, no job, no place to live. She could barely survive in London without him. And now look where you are… facing a situation you could have avoided completely. All this… it's your choice, Ibrahim."
Amir glanced at Faisal, who had been silent the entire meeting, barely moving, watching both men intently. "And Faisal—can't you get some sense into your friend here?"
"Amir… you've known Ibrahim for years. You know how he is. He doesn't change his mind once he's decided something. You can argue with him all day but it won't matter. He listens like he cares, but in the end—he does whatever the hell he wants. So instead of trying to convince him, better save your energy."
Amir slapped his hand on the table, "So that's it? You've both lost your sense. Fine then. Both of you can go to hell together. Do whatever madness you want. Kill whoever you want. I don't care. I'm done with this."
He pushed his chair back, ready to leave. But Ibrahim's voice cut through the room, "Sit down. If me and Faisal are going to hell, don't think you're going to heaven. You're coming with us. We'll book three seats together—first row."
Amir laughed bitterly and waved a hand. "I'm leaving. Unlike you, I actually have a life. I've got better things to do than sit here planning murders. I have a girlfriend. Mia's waiting for me right now, and I'm not going to let her sit there just because you're in one of your dark moods again."
That finally broke Ibrahim's calm. "Mia, Mia, Mia—every single time it's Mia! Don't you have any other word in your dictionary? Is that all you think about? If I cut open your brain right now, I'd only find her name written inside a hundred times. Don't you get tired of singing her name like a broken record?"
Amir gave a mocking smile, "You're saying this only because you've never had someone in your life who mattered more than everything else. The day you find a woman you can't stay without, you'll know. That day you'll see how impossible it is to keep your cool. Men like you, who pretend to be cold, strong, untouchable—once you get your favourite woman, once she gets under your skin—you'll see how helpless you really are. You'll guard her, fight for her, bleed for her. You'll destroy anything that threatens her. You think you're in control, but love breaks control. Remember my words, Ibrahim. The same man who talks about killing without blinking will one day bow down to protect the woman he loves. And that day… I want to see how much 'calm' you have left."
"Keep dreaming." Ibrahim said coldly, brushing off Amir's words like dust.
Before Amir could fire back, Faisal's phone rang. He picked it up quickly, "Yes.... send them inside. I've met them before. They are guests."
Ibrahim's eyes narrowed. "Who was that?"
"After you left the hospital, those two boys—Yusuf and Aqil—came to see me. They weren't empty-handed. They came with a bundle of cash. Said it was to repay the money you spent on Nafisa's surgery. Though I told them it's not how we work, but… they didn't want to hear anything. So, I thought instead of creating a scene there, I called them here."
Ibrahim stood up from his chair, both palms pressing flat on the table as he leaned forward, "What? You told them to come into my office!!!??"
Faisal lifted his hands in surrender, "Don't explode, Ibrahim. Think for a second. Look at the bigger picture—maybe in the future they could be your brother-in-law. Both of them already have eyes on your sisters."
Amir burst into laughter, clapping once. "Oh, now this is going to be fun. The man who can't stand anyone near his family—getting brother-in-laws out of two school boys. I'd pay money just to see that drama unfold."