forbidden whispers

chapter 12

Qasim remained standing, watching her flee from before him, wishing for the day when he could bind her to himself forever-when nothing would ever separate them throughout a lifetime. He exhaled heavily... Not everything a person desires can be attained.

He headed to the refrigerator and stared at the variety of dishes Sarah had prepared before leaving. Suddenly, he felt no appetite at all, even though he had eaten nothing but dates, coffee, and water. He wished he had accepted Massa's offer to prepare dinner for him instead of mocking her. With an irritated sigh, he walked toward his bedroom with weary, defeated steps. He took a quick shower, threw his exhausted body onto the bed, and fell asleep within moments-it had been a grueling day.

Qasim woke up the next morning and glanced at the clock. It was eleven in the morning. He had slept like the dead the night before. He sprang out of bed quickly. The house was eerily quiet-apparently, Massa had not woken up yet either. He recalled the way she had looked at him the previous day... like a lost child pleading for the safety of her parents. With a determined breath, Qasim entered the kitchen energetically. He would prepare a delicious breakfast and then wake her to join him.

About half an hour later, Qasim ascended the stairs lightly. He pressed the bell switch, causing her room to glow red-but the door did not open. He pressed it repeatedly, yet there was no response. He cursed under his breath.

"Is she ignoring me?... Is she angry with me?... Or has something happened to her?"

Without hesitation, he pushed open her door, searching for her-but she wasn't there. He searched every corner of the house. Fear and tension began to creep into his heart. Could it be that his aunt had carried out her threat?!

He rushed to the external surveillance cameras and sat tensely before the screen, watching the silence outside. Suddenly, a black motorcycle exited the gate. Qasim couldn't process it. That was his motorcycle from his school days. He hadn't known his family had kept it. He zoomed in, froze the frame to see the rider more clearly.

His eyes widened in shock.

Massa!

That crazy girl! What on earth was she thinking?!

Old memories flooded his mind-Mays stealing his motorcycle and fleeing the house, him spotting her and chasing after her while threatening her... and finally, Mays being struck by a car, her body thrown into the air before crashing onto the ground in a pool of blood.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

On a high elevation, Massa stood still, her brown hair fluttering around her face with the gentle breeze, breathing deeply as she took in the breathtaking scenery stretching before her-vast plains and rolling green hills. This was her secret haven, the place she retreated to whenever she needed solitude. And now, she desperately needed this escape.

She wasn't used to the presence of this stranger in her home-strange because he bore no resemblance to the Qasim she once knew. That Qasim had been gentle, kind, loving... not sarcastic and hostile all the time like this unfamiliar visitor. She sighed in irritation. He had changed-changed for the worse.

She remembered the first time she had decided to ride the motorcycle. Her mother had objected firmly:

"No motorcycles! You're a delicate girl-how could you ride something like men do?! I don't think it's a good idea."

Massa protested sweetly, explaining with her hands-her mother understood her language well.

"But Mom! I can't trouble Uncle Latif every time I want to go out for a walk, visit Mirna, or go to a club. He's always busy with you and Dad. Let me ease his burden a little... please."

Hanan sighed helplessly.

"I only allowed you to ride it inside the palace grounds because you'd be safe and within my sight. No-I'm not convinced. I can't risk letting you ride it on dangerous streets."

Eventually, and with great difficulty, Hanan agreed to a compromise: Massa would only be allowed to ride the motorcycle if she had no other option-if she couldn't find anyone available to take her. From that day on, her mother made sure she was never out of options 😅 She made Massa's appointments a priority for Latif. And so, Massa never had the chance to ride it outside.

Now her mother was gone, and Massa couldn't reach Latif. So... this was one of those emergency cases that justified using the motorcycle.

She exhaled in relief. She could do whatever she wanted without asking anyone.

Leaning against her motorcycle, sipping her cold drink, her helmet resting on the back seat, Massa didn't notice the prying eyes watching her from afar, intruding upon her privacy. She didn't know how much time she had spent there, but she needed to head back now-her lessons were waiting.

She put on her helmet, mounted her motorcycle, and took off. At that very moment, a black Jeep with dark tinted windows sped after her. At first, it stayed directly behind her-slowing when she slowed, accelerating when she did. Anxiety crept into Massa's chest. She tried to give the car space to pass, but to no avail.

She increased her speed, attempting to lose them-but the Jeep accelerated as well, suddenly swerving to block her path. At the last second, Massa slammed the brakes. The motorcycle skidded sharply, her leg scraping against the rough curb, tearing her pants and leaving a shallow wound-but she managed to stop with minimal damage.

She dismounted and watched as the driver stepped out, approaching her with a mocking smile.

"Looks like you're not very skilled at riding yet... Do you even have a license?"

Massa frowned, remaining silent. Was this i***t joking with her?! He clearly wasn't traffic police-what right did he have to stop and interrogate her? That fool had almost gotten her killed.

When she didn't respond, he continued:

"My friend likes your bike... He was thinking of buying one. Interested in selling it?"

He thought she was a man. That was good-very good. She glanced behind him at the three others stepping out of the car and approaching her. She cursed inwardly.

One of them stepped forward with a foolish grin.

"Hey there, buddy... My name's Fahd."

From behind her helmet's visor, Massa stared at his outstretched hand without returning the greeting.

Fahd awkwardly slipped his hand back into his pocket.

"Sorry... We tried to get your attention by honking, but you ignored us. I apologize for blocking your way."

Still no response from her. She had to conceal the fact that she was a woman-that was crucial. And she also had to hide her disability so they wouldn't exploit it. She hadn't forgotten her mother's constant warnings.

Fahd continued as his friends surrounded her, their mocking smiles closing in.

"Why don't we sit in the car for a bit and talk about the bike? I'm really interested in buying it."

She shook her head, refusing. There was no reason to stay longer. She turned to mount her motorcycle, but one of them placed his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Hey, buddy! It's not polite to refuse our friendly offer when we're asking nicely."

Massa glanced at the hand resting on her shoulder. In a sudden movement, she grabbed his arm, twisted it violently behind his back, then kicked him, sending him crashing to the ground. The driver rushed toward her angrily, but before he could react, she struck him with a sharp side punch that knocked him down.

Fahd lunged at her furiously.

"You b***h! Do you think you're strong?!"

She spun with astonishing agility, her legs drawing a half-circle through the air, dropping him to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. As for the last one, she caught him with a swift punch followed by a rapid kick that sent his body rolling across the rough pavement, groaning in pain and disbelief.

When it was over, she didn't linger on their fallen bodies. She rushed to her motorcycle, breath ragged, hot blood masking the pain of her wounded leg beneath a surge of resolve. She started the engine and sped away toward the safety of her home, leaving behind four men writhing in humiliation and defeat.

Massa reached the palace safely. She slipped quietly, returning the motorcycle to its place, hoping Qasim hadn't noticed her absence. Inside, the house was still silent. She sighed in relief-apparently, no one had missed her.

She hurried to her room, took a quick shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped out-only to freeze when she found Qasim inside her room.

She gasped in fear, stunned by his presence without permission, backing away instinctively. He pulled her toward him, crushing her in a tight embrace, while she clutched her towel in panic, afraid it would slip.

"I almost lost my mind when I couldn't find you..."

His voice trembled, as though confessing his defeat before her absence. Massa heard nothing, saw nothing, understood nothing-she simply remained still in his arms, waiting for him to release her.

She realized he wasn't aware of her distress or her vulnerable state; his joy at finding her safe had overwhelmed his awareness. He continued, gripping her fiercely as he drowned in her flustered eyes.

"You're not going anywhere without my knowledge again. Do you understand?!"

Of course she didn't understand-and wouldn't. But she wasn't in a position to argue now. She squirmed uncomfortably, trying to free herself from his painful grip. Only then did realization strike him.

Finally... she thought.

His gaze slowly traveled from her flushed, embarrassed face down to her youthful body wrapped in nothing but a towel.

His expression darkened, captivated by her breathtaking beauty that ensnared him every time. Dangerous, shadowed thoughts crept into his mind-thoughts that should never have been born. His jaw muscle twitched as he struggled to restrain himself. His grip loosened, and she seized the chance, slipping away cautiously toward the bed.

She grabbed her clothes, then turned to him with a nervous glance, gesturing with a trembling hand.

"I'll get dressed... and then I'll join you downstairs."

He clenched his teeth in anger-so intense she could feel its heat thickening the air around them.

She was dismissing him politely. Yet even her cursed politeness failed to extinguish the flames of his fury, flames that threatened to consume and reduce her to ashes.

He watched her clutch her clothes, waiting desperately for him to leave. Suddenly, he felt no desire to go. She shouldn't have shown that eagerness for his departure-it wounded him, bruised his pride.

Instinctively, he shut her door and advanced toward her slowly.

She stumbled backward, fear stark in her eyes, her body trembling. With a shaking hand, tears glimmering in her honey-colored eyes, she pleaded:

"I'm cold... I want to get dressed... please."

Qasim froze in place, his eyes locked onto her, unable to look away. His heart thundered violently in his chest, torn between a fierce longing that set his breath aflame and a warning certainty that urged him to retreat before falling into an abyss with no return.

Between desire and reason, a muscle pulsed in his jaw like a whip, betraying the turmoil he dared not voice.

He took a step back, reason finally overpowering his raging urge. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes briefly as though battling an inner specter, then turned slowly toward the door, his steps heavy with defeat.

Massa felt her breath return little by little with each step he took away, until he finally left. She rushed to lock the door securely, leaned against it for a moment, then collapsed onto the bed, her hands pressing against her chest, trying to calm her racing heartbeat that threatened to expose her-even to herself.

Qasim's gaze toward her was unlike anything she had known before. It had shattered her, leaving chaos in its wake. His look held a thousand unspoken confessions, awakening within her a storm of conflicting emotions she had never dared to confront.

Qasim heard the click of the lock as she secured herself from him. He descended the stairs with unsteady steps and trembling hands, trying-and failing-to erase the image of her flushed face, trembling lips, and tearful, frightened eyes from his mind.

He murmured hoarsely:

"Oh God... grant me strength... I don't want to lose her."

But his heart was screaming her name, and the entire house echoed with their silence-heavy with everything left unsaid.