It was always written ✔️

Chapter 35

The night had been dreadful, constantly running between the hospital and home. Alayna was overwhelmed with exhaustion.

It was currently 6am, and her eyes had not rested once. She laid on the bed next to Maham, who's exhaustion had finally won the battle.

She slowly stalked to her room, across the hallway, flung the door open and finally settled into her bed.

She was yet again awoken by a rumbling stomach, and as expected an aroma of a plethora of dishes all waiting for her to feast upon them.

Yet she felt this sinking feeling in her gut.

He turned and spotted her. His growing smile glowing at her, yet she couldn't help the feeling in her stomach that had induced her to nearly throw up at the sight of him. 

She couldn't help but suspect that whatever hurricane that was beginning whirl would rip him from her. Perhaps, forever. 

She sat at the table, her appetite extinguished, her heart heavy.

His hand enveloped hers. She reacted by pulling back, she knew she could be wrong but something was telling her not to be accustomed to him, not to trust him right now.

He looked at her in shock, "Wha-". 

He was cut off by a continuous rapid knocking on the door. 

Immediately, he stood even sparing her a glance. 

 Alayna turned to the spread on the table and poured herself a glass of juice. 

Just as her lips touched the rim of the glass, the door flung open, a stampede of police officers all storming towards her. Her hand lowered the glass as she stood up. 

"You are under arrest Alayna Ismail for suspicions of the murder of Zunair Armaan Rahman." 

She stilled completely profound with shock and anger.

She was pulled up to her feet harshly, their fingernails digging into her skin, but all she could focus on was Mikhail.

The colour had drained from his face and he looked at her blankly not lovingly like she was used to. She knew. She knew at that moment what was brewing through his mind. She knew what that look meant and she was afraid.  

As the cold surface of the cuffs circled around her wrists, she could only look at him. 

She knew that this is what she was expecting, this situation that uproots her perfectly protected life yet her heart dropped seeing his face. 

He was spiralling. Nothing could stop him. The heavens knew she needed him. Yet they also know he won't be the same after this. 

As the silver cuffs tightened around her wrists, she could only look at him. 

The same man she had professed her love for was no longer in front of her, and she despised it, she utterly despised herself in this moment.

Why did she always look for her misfortune, whenever she was fine? 

Why did she wish upon her own downfall?

Why did she never believe a quiet life was written for her? 

Would they ever be the same? Is the last thing she wondered as she was lead out by the officers, his face fading out of view, now hidden behind the same walls where their love bloomed.

Would anything ever be the same?