Mafia's possessive love 3

Chapter 11

The moon hung low in the velvety night sky, casting a gentle glow over the city of delhi. In a perfect moment, Mehak found herself standing with Ibrahim in his bedroom surrounded by the smell fragrance of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves.

As Ibrahim gazed into Mehak's eyes, he couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty that lay within her soul. "Mehak," he said, his voice a tender caress, "your name is as beautiful as you."

Mehak, touched by his words, felt a lump forming in her throat. The sincerity in Ibrahim's gaze overwhelmed her, and tears welled up in her eyes. She looked away for a moment, trying to compose herself.

Sensing her emotions, Ibrahim gently cupped her face in his hands, urging her to meet his eyes again. "I want to go home," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken pain.

Ibrahim, his heart aching for the woman before him, spoke with a comforting assurance, "This is your home, princess."

But Mehak, her tears now flowing freely, shook her head. "No, this is not my home."

In the quiet intensity of the garden, the echoes of Mehak's words lingered, setting the stage for a journey of self-discovery and healing.

On the other side in the cozy sanctuary of their bedroom, Adeel and Samira sat on their bed, the dim glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm ambience. Samira, ever perceptive, turned to her husband with a curious expression.

"How did you get to know that Ibrahim is interested in Mehak?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for answers.

Adeel, a smile playing on his lips, began to unfold the tale. "I saw him in the cinema hall," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a father's understanding. "He was looking at Mehak with lots of affection. That day, I decided I would fulfill my son's wish. I know what he wants, and right now, he wants Mehak."

Samira's eyes widened with realization as she processed the depth of Adeel's insight. In that perfect moment, a father's love had set in motion a series of events that would shape the destiny of their family.

On the other side The night settled over the grand mansion, wrapping it in a cocoon of silence. In Mehak's room, the air held a delicate tension as she attempted to rise from the bed. The soft creak of the floorboards betrayed her movements, and before she could take another step, Ibrahim's strong yet gentle hands enveloped her wrists.

"Princess, it's getting late," Ibrahim spoke, his voice a soft murmur that resonated in the quiet room. "You must sleep now. But don't ever try to run away from this room or this house."

Mehak, caught in the intensity of his gaze, felt a mix of emotions – a blend of vulnerability and a flicker of something deeper. She nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken rules that bound her, and allowed Ibrahim to guide her back to the comfort of the bed.

In the sanctuary of Samira's room, she and Adeel sat on their bed, bathed in the warm glow of a bedside lamp. The subdued excitement painted Samira's eyes.

"I am very happy for Ibrahim," Samira shared, her words filled with a mother's joy. "Finally, he gets interested in some girl. But I must say, Mehak is beautiful."

Adeel, a man of few words but profound understanding, smiled at his wife's observation. "Indeed she is."

Their shared smile lingered in the quiet room, a testament to the shared happiness they found in their son's newfound connection. The gentle rustle of the night wind outside carried with it a sense of anticipation, as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting to see how the threads of destiny would weave this intricate tale.

Back in ibrahim’s  room, the moon cast a silvery glow through the window, painting a serene scene. As Ibrahim watched over her, Mehak succumbed to the night, her dreams intertwining with the unspoken fear of a future that lay ahead.

The air in the room held a subtle tension as Ibrahim, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and determination, turned to Mehak. "Princess, let me change my clothes, and then we will talk," he said gently. With those words, he made his way into the bathroom, leaving Mehak alone with her thoughts.

As the door closed, Mehak felt a sudden surge of emotions, a torrent that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn't comprehend the whirlwind of events that had brought her to this point, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on her heart.

Minutes stretched like eternity, each one filled with the echo of her own thoughts. The sound of water running in the bathroom was a distant murmur, a reminder of the solitude she found herself in.

When Ibrahim emerged, freshly changed, he noticed the tear-streaked face of Mehak. Concern etched lines on his forehead as he moved to sit beside her. Gently, he wiped away her tears, his touch a comforting balm on her wounded soul.

"Listen, Mehak," Ibrahim began, his voice soft and reassuring. "I never knew my father knew me this much. Let me clear some things for you. I saw you for the first time at the fair, and when I saw you, I felt something strange. I've never felt anything like this in my whole life."

Mehak, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, looked into Ibrahim's eyes, searching for answers. His sincerity and vulnerability opened a door to a world she had been reluctant to enter.

"I want you to understand," Ibrahim continued, "there's a connection between us that I can't explain. I want to unravel the mysteries that bind us. The room, once a sanctuary of uncertainty, now hung heavy with tension. As Ibrahim sat beside Mehak, his attempts at understanding her met with an unexpected plea. Mehak, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions, began to cry.

"Please, let me go. I don't even know you. Why did some man bring me here?" she pleaded, her voice wavering with a mix of fear and confusion.

Ibrahim, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions, felt a surge of anger rise within him. "Did some man touch you while bringing you here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the stillness of the room.

Mehak, shocked by the sudden change in his demeanor, stammered, "Let me go." But Ibrahim, his eyes flashing with anger, persisted. "I asked you something. Tell me."

Frightened by his intensity, Mehak, with a quivering voice, whispered, "Yes."

The admission hung in the air, a heavy truth that cast a shadow over the fragile connection that had started to form between them. Ibrahim, fueled by a mix of protective rage and concern, abruptly got up from the bed.

Without another word, he left the room, the door closing behind him with a resounding finality. Mehak, left alone in the silence that followed, felt a deep sense of vulnerability and regret. The room that once held the fear.

Outside, in the corridor, Ibrahim clenched his fists, struggling to contain the storm of emotions raging within him. Anguish, frustration, and a burning desire to protect intertwined in a tumultuous dance.

As the minutes ticked by, the echo of Mehak's plea lingered in the air.