Chapter 2
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Author's Voice
Night fell like a velvet shroud over the city, swallowing alleys and rooftops in its quiet embrace.
Yet in that darkness, two souls—each shackled by their own pain—found their worlds colliding once more.
Alya wandered home through damp streets, every footstep a reminder of her burdens. And somewhere high above, Reyhan Pratama—mafia prince—felt an echo of that burden as he lay restless in his opulent bed.
Two worlds, two hearts, one silent thread pulling them both into the shadows.
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Alya's POV
My feet throbbed with every step, as if tiny daggers pierced the soles of my kameez. The night air bit at my skin, and the damp scent of earth clung to me like a reminder of yesterday's wounds.
I limped into the narrow alley leading to Rachman Haveli. The rusted gates stood before me—silent sentinels to my torment. I did not knock. I never did. Because I knew she would be waiting.
Cre-e-ack.
The gate swung open, revealing Sari Bibi's immaculate silhouette—folded arms, pleated saree, eyes sharper than broken glass.
> "A family's daughter roaming the streets at night? You disgrace us!"
I lowered my gaze, the ache in my leg mirroring the ache in my heart.
No words formed on my lips. I could not explain. I could not defend.
> "Worthless," she spat. "Empty head, empty heart. A burden to us all."
The next moment, a stinging slap split the air. I reeled back, colliding with the old wooden table, but still no sound escaped me.
My chest rose and fell. Blood rushed in my ears. Only silence answered me.
She hauled me inside like a sack of rice—heavy, unwanted. And when the door slammed, the world outside fell silent again.
But that silence was suffocating.
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Later, in my tiny room—a bare mattress, tattered curtains, a lone shelf holding dust and broken dreams—I curled into myself. My leg throbbed, but the pain had softened into a dull companion.
The moon hovered in the sky, cold and distant.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and let my silent tears fall.
In my mind, I spoke:
> "Ya Allah… why me? Everyone hates me… why did You choose me?"
My fingers traced invisible circles on the windowpane, a prayer written in ghosts.
And then the moon slipped behind a cloud, as if the heavens could not bear witness.
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Reyhan's POV
Silk sheets offered no comfort. My mind raced with the memory of her—dusty kameez, trembling lips, eyes wide with suffering.
I sat up, heart pounding. Calls, shipments, orders… today had been chaos. But now there was only that face.
> "Why can't I forget her? She's nothing to me."
I ran a hand through my hair. Something tight knotted in my chest—guilt? Responsibility?
I stood and strode to the balcony, the city sprawled below, its lights blinking like distant stars.
> "What's wrong with me?"
The moon hung low, and for a fleeting moment, I felt as exposed as she must have felt in that alley.
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Reyhan's POV (Later, in his study)
Papers lay strewn across the mahogany desk—reports, ledgers, messages. I slammed my fist down, sending them fluttering like wounded birds.
> "Who is she?!" I snarled into the empty room.
I'd commanded every informant, searched every corner, scoured every record. Nothing. No name. No history. No trace.
My phone buzzed. Zaki's name glowed on the screen. I didn't answer. I couldn't explain this madness.
> "She cannot exist."
Yet in my mind, her silence screamed louder than any gunshot.
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Alya's POV
Morning light found me kneeling at the kitchen counter, scrubbing until the cloth shredded in my hand. The world was silent—too silent.
Memories of last night's beating haunted my every move: the sting of Sari Bibi's slap, the humiliation, the ache in my leg.
I swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay. If I stopped, I would drown in them.
> "Please… someone see me. Someone hear me."
But the house offered no answers. Only shadows. Only silence.
I pressed my palm to my chest, as if to calm a wild storm within.
> "Why can't I speak? Why can't I be heard?"
No reply came.
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Reyhan's POV
By dusk, I found myself wandering the streets alone, the city's chaos mirroring my turmoil. Neon signs flickered. Engines roared. Life pulsed around me—yet I felt cut off, adrift.
I didn't notice when the wind shifted, cold against my skin, until I looked up at the moon—full, unwavering.
> "I should let her go. I must let her go."
But I knew I wouldn't. Because out there, in the labyrinth of alleys, someone's pain had unlocked something in my heart.
And I was powerless to close the door.