It was always written...

Chapter 25

"Woh humsafar tha. Magar usse hum-nawa'i na thi." She hummed under her breath.

She took small steps down the dark alleyway.

Her feet crushing the soul out the fallen autumn leaves.

Attempting to make as little noise as possible as well as making her presence known, she followed the dark figure.

Her hands were tucked into the jacket's pockets, her face was snuggled into a scarf, her body wrapped up attempting to fight off the cold.

She moved from shadow to shadow, trying to keep her identity hidden.

Strapped up with her choice of weapons, she had decided, that today she would face her worst enemy.

Zunair Armaan Rahman.

She would make him bend before her just as he used to make her.

Make him bow before her before she ended his life.

He had turned round, fear smeared on his face.

It was now or never.

"Who's there?" He weakly called out.

She smirked.

She barely recognised the man that had ruined her to this extent. To which she could only feel peace if she killed him.

She could only feel peace when she had ripped out his heart from his chest.

She could only feel peace when she had made him scream as he had done to her.

She could only feel peace when she would rip apart his limbs, one by one.

She could only feel peace when she sees him at her feet, begging for forgiveness as he bleeds out.

Her light feet took her closer to her first victim.

The time was right.

Time to strike.

He again called out to the shadows again, his voice tinged with distress.

She tugged a strand of hair away from her face, whilst taking exactly 5 steps forward.

She could be seen but was still shielded by the shadows.

"Do you not recognise me, dear husband?" She drawled out.

She watched the instant shock surface on his face, which morphed into recognition and then anger.

She knew what he looked like when he was angered, she was certain that that was his angered expression.

And deep down, where she had shoved her memories of her marriage, everything was beginning to resurface. Including her helplessness and weakness.

But something battles these memories, revenge.

It suppressed them further, all she knew was that the man in front of her had to be dead in the next hour.

She didn't want to remember why.

She just wanted to do as her mind said.

And it told her to take a gun from under the coat that she was wearing, and shoot him straight through the chest.

But something stopped her, the way he was looking at her.

"A-Alayna?"

She stepped forward, keeping a good distance from him.

"Who else could it be Zunair?" She mocked talking to a child.

"I thought you were dead."

"No, but you will be soon." She nonchalantly replied.