FF: All the Right Moves - Chapter 14, page 129 - COMPLETE - Page 41

Please update soon! You make Mondays bearable!!(:

Hi! Paly.
Well i have read all ur work in this form and i love it . Ur talented buddy ! Keep it up .This suspence is eating my head .but never mind i will wait for the story to unfold .
Lots of love ,
Shikha .

And yes...pls update .:D

Wow breathtaking but I love the ending

Guess I am a sucker for romance

It has been a week ...please update...waiting for it

Its monday dear. Update soon

CHAPTER NINE

"Watch your step!" Asad says sharply as he guides her away from the emergency room.

"Mr. Khan, I'm fine," Zoya insists but she leans into him. "I barely feel any pain at all. In fact, the tetanus injection hurts more than my cut."

"It's not a cut, Ms. Farooqui," he hisses through clenched teeth, "It's a deep and nearly fatal knife wound."

"You're exaggerating, Mr. Khan," she scoffs but her voice is thin and weak.

"Exaggerating? Exaggerating?" Asad's voice and body are both so tight with quivering rage they vibrate like a plucked guitar string. "You have fifteen stitches in your arm and so much pain killer in your system that you're practically floating off the ground!"

She looks down at her feet to check, upsetting her balance, and stumbles. Asad wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her flat against him, her back pressed into his side.

"Watch where you're walking!" he snaps.

"I was!" She twists around to look at him. "I looked down at my feet and got confused."

She meets Asad's eyes. They are so dark and dangerously bright she stops in her tracks. He stops with her.

Zoya looks around nervously, as though seeing her surrounds for the first time. "How did we get here?"

"You don't remember?" Asad speaks through gritted teeth, his eyes drilling into her with such glittering heat they look like burning coals. "You don't remember stumbling home at two in the morning, dizzy from blood loss?"

She stills in his arms. "Yes, I remember that."

He shudders so hard that the vibrations pass into her and make her shake, too. "Do you remember me wrapping your arm in a towel and bringing you to the hospital?"

Zoya frowns, her forehead wrinkling. "No."

"No?" Asad releases her and paces away, his barely leashed fury evident in every heavy step. "Do you remember the drive here when I pleaded with you to stay conscious while I broke every traffic law imaginable to get you here as fast as I could?" His voice rises with his rage. "Do you?"

His cheeks are flushed and his hands curl into such tight fists his knuckles turn white, his chest rising and falling as he fights to retain control of himself. Zoya looks around again but there is no one to help her. The parking lot has only a few cars in it and none are occupied. The velvety darkness is held at bay by the hospital's bright lights but the surrounding buildings are dark and empty. She steps back, putting distance between herself and Asad.

"No, I don't remember that," she admits nervously.

"What about this?" He waves his hand at his white kurta, now stained dark red with her drying blood. "Do you remember me carrying you in here, forcing you to stay awake while you cried and begged me to let you rest?" His voice is so tight that his words are sharp and clipped.

She steps even further back. "No."

He crosses the distance between them in two long strides. "How about when the doctor stitched up your arm and pointed out the wound stopped less than one centimeter away from your radial artery?" His voice cracks at the end. "Do you remember that?"

She looks down at her bandaged arm. Her sweater sleeve has been cut off at the shoulder, exposing the purple iodine and white gauze covering her left arm from wrist to elbow.

"Not clearly." She ducks her head fearfully, her voice tiny and timid.

Asad takes the last step separating them, standing so close that his ragged breath ruffles her bangs. Zoya feels the fury rolling off of him in heavy, threatening waves and begins shaking in trepidation. She tries to move away but is stopped when her back comes in contact with something cool and metallic. She glances over her shoulder and sees that she's pressed against Asad's SUV.

"Mr. Khan, there is no reason to blow this out of proportion," she pleads, her voice shaky despite her attempts to keep it even and calming. "Everything is fine now and--"

"Bakwas band kijiye!" Asad roars, slapping his hand against the SUV beside Zoya's head, the impact so forceful it rocks the car. "Hadh hoti hai bewakoofi ki!"

Zoya jerks at the ferocity in his voice. She turns her head and her mouth drops open, eyes widening in horror. The SUV's window glass has splintered into a spider web of cracks, radiating outwards from where his hand rests, so close to her face that her nose brushes against his arm. She tries to slide the other way. He slaps his hand down on that side too, the impact so sharp and loud, she jumps.

Frantically, she looks from side to side but Asad has cut off all escape routes. She stares up at him, caught between his car and his unyielding, unmovable body. He leans in, so close that she feels his body heat burn into her, locking her in a cage of steel, muscle and barely-leashed fury. The night is silent and still, his harsh breathing the only sound, emphasizing how very alone she is, trapped at the mercy of an enraged beast.

"That's it. No more! Do you hear me?" he thunders. "It's over! No more secrets, no more games and no more lies!"

He reaches out to grab her shoulders. Zoya shrieks and cowers, covering her head with her right arm, preparing herself for his wrath.

But it doesn't come.

After a moment, she raises her head and peeks up at him. Asad stares at her, his face bleak and ashen.

"Do you think I...I'm going to hit you?" His voice is barely above a whisper, harsh and raw, his eyes glittering with stunned shock and guilt.

She nods hesitantly, her arm still raised, unsure of his response. "That...that's what you did the last time we were in the hospital and you were this angry with me."

He swallows so hard his throat muscles contract. His body is still rigid, stiff and tightly controlled, but some of the threatening tension eases out of him.

"I apologized for that," he reminds her raggedly. "I promised you it would never happen again."

He reaches for her, very slowly, and she flinches away. Her eyes are wide and frightened as she watches him take her hand in his. He pulls her arm away from her head. She resists for a second, then looks into his eyes and sees the aching remorse in their depths. Shivering in reaction, she allows him to bring their arms down to their sides, hands still entwined.

He takes a deep breath, visibly gathering his patience. "Tell me the truth, Zoya. Please." he pleads. "What was so important that you were willing to risk your life for it?"

Zoya stares at him. His body still quivers with barely-leashed rage but the hand holding hers is gentle, testimony to his iron-willed control.

"Phupee," she admits quietly. "I did it for Phupee."

Asad steps away from her in stunned shock. His mouth opens and closes several times before he's capable of forming words.

"What?" He finally manages to gasp. "Ammi told you to go out in the middle of the night and do this?"

Zoya shakes her head. "No. She doesn't know what's happening. I don't want her to find out about it."

"And me?" he demands. "You didn't tell me, either. You didn't want me to know?"

"No," she whispers and brings her injured arm closer to her body, as though trying to protect it from further damage.

"Why not?" His voice cracks as if she has wounded him to the core.

"Because I know you, Mr. Khan." Her voice is small but determined. She forces herself to stand straight, trying to hide the lethargy caused by the adrenaline drop and the drugs coursing through her system. "I know how you'll react. You'll kick Rohan out of the house. I know--"

Zoya stops speaking as she realizes what she just revealed. She slaps her hand over her mouth but the damage has already been done. Asad's face flushes and his eyes drill into her like laser beams.

"Rohan?" Asad repeats, his voice a lethal hiss. "This is about Rohan? That filthy man is responsible for you being hurt? I'm going to kill him."

"No!" Zoya reaches out with her injured arm. She yelps as the movement pulls on her stitches.

"Stop that!" Asad snaps. Then his voice softens as he covers her hand and gently presses her bandaged arm back against her body. "You're not supposed to put stress on your arm. It'll tear your stitches."

"I'm sorry." She tucks her arm close again "It's just that you're doing what I worked so hard to avoid."

"What's that?" He's still holding her hand but his grip is safe and comforting, supporting and no longer threatening. "What is going on?"

Zoya hesitates and he leans in so close their noses brush.

"Don't try my patience, Ms. Farooqui," he warns. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through? What it did to me to see you hurt and bleeding and know I didn't prevent it? To know that you deliberately shut me out and I nearly lost you because of your impulsiveness? Do you?"

"What about me, Mr. Khan?" she demands, her eyes fill with tears. "What do you think it's been like for me? I need you. I rely on you. Think of how hard it's been for me to do this without you, knowing you're not there to watch my back. I needed you, Mr. Khan, and I couldn't have you."

She blinks and the tears overflow onto her cheeks. He shuts his eyes and brings his free hand, the one not holding her injured arm, up to rub his forehead.

"You always have me." His eyes remain shut, as if he can't focus when confronted by her tears. "Have I ever failed to be there when you needed me?"

She sucks in her breath and he finally opens his eyes.

"Ever?" he repeats.

"You always come through," she admits. "No matter how angry you are with me before or after, you always come if I call you."

"So what made you think I wouldn't help you this time?" he asks quietly, brushing away her tears.

"Because it isn't about me, it's about you." Her voice is equally soft. "I knew you'd be so angry you'd act first and think later."

"So you decided the way to keep me calm was to hide things from me, lie to me then nearly give me a heart attack by stumbling home in the middle of the night, soaked in your own blood?" His voice is a harsh snarl but the hand holding hers is still gentle.

"That was an accident," she tries to explain. "Raabert and I--"

"Raabert?" Asad interrupts her. "First you said this is about Rohan and now it's about Raabert! You trusted one of your moron friends over me?"

"No! I..." She stops speaking and bites into her lower lip.

"No." Asad shakes his head. "No more secrets. There is no way I'll let you keep this from me any longer. We are not leaving this parking lot until you tell me what's going on."

Zoya looks around but there is no one else nearby in the deserted parking lot. She accepts the futility of trying to pacify or distract Asad any longer. Her shoulders slump and she nods tiredly.

"Promise me you'll wait until I tell you the whole story before you react?" she asks quietly. "Please, just hear me out."

He nods, his jaw clenched. He releases her hand and steps away, his body tense and alert, as though preparing for a hard hit. Zoya brings her good hand up to cup her hurt arm, using her own body heat to replace Asad's warmth.

"Rohan isn't just in our house by chance, Mr. Khan," she says quietly. "He's looking for something."

He shakes his head. "What does that mean?"

She explains about Rohan's behavior, his new suitcase and cell phone, the night he didn't sleep in his bed, the mess in the living room cabinets, Asad's disorganized bookshelf and Rohan knowing about the boxing set. Asad is back to shaking with rage by the time she finishes.

"I'm going to kill him," Asad vows. "He took advantage of my mother, came into my home under false pretense and now he's hurting my family."

"That's exactly what you can't do, Mr. Khan," Zoya protests. "The only control we have over this situation is by keeping Rohan where we can keep an eye on him. You can't allow your temper to get the better of you."

Asad's hands are curled so tight his knuckles turn white. "So I'm supposed to allow that liar to stay in my home, interact with my family and bring them harm? No, that's not happening. He'll be lucky if I don't break every bone in his body before I throw him out."

"You don't understand, Mr. Khan. Rohan won't just leave our house, he'll leave Bhopal." Zoya speaks slowly and clearly, as if it will help her case. "He'll have no reason to stay if he doesn't find what he's looking for. Think about the repercussions if Rohan Saxena leaves before he finishes his contracted events."

"Nothing will happen," Asad snorts. "So some silly fans will be upset. What can they do?"

"Some silly fans?" Zoya repeats. "Do you have any idea how popular Rohan is? Do you understand how bad it will get if he leaves, especially if he leaves without warning?"

Asad sighs and rubs his forehead again. He opens his mouth to speak but Zoya hurries on before he can say anything.

"I was at the stadium, Mr. Khan. I saw his fans. They were insane. Men were begging in the street for tickets. Women were selling themselves for a chance to see Rohan. The fans inside the stadium were just as bad, tearing at each other to get closer to him." Sweat breaks out on her brow. "Imagine what those people will do if Rohan isn't at the events he promised to attend."

Asad continues to stare at her, his hands tightly clenched at his sides.

"They'll riot in the streets," she continues. "They'll overturn cars and set buses on fire. People will be hurt, either in fights or during looting or just by being in the wrong place when those fans want a target. They may even attack the orphanage and the children."

Asad remains silent but his eyes widen, his jaw locked tight. He stands so still that his chest barely rises, his breaths fast and shallow.

"Then think of who they'll come after next, Mr. Khan," Zoya persists. "Who has been praised to the heavens for bringing Rohan Saxena to Bhopal?"

"Ammi," Asad whispers, his face almost as pale as Zoya's.

Zoya nods. "And who will they blame if Rohan doesn't fulfill his responsibilities?"

Asad shuts his eyes, his features granite hard. "Ammi."

"Imagine what it will do to Phupee to know people were hurt, that the orphans were hurt and are possibly homeless," Zoya urges. "And it's not just about her reputation and her feelings. More importantly, it's about her safety."

Asad's eyes pop open but he says nothing, his teeth clenched so tightly together that the muscle throbs visibly in his jaw line.

"How will she cope if she becomes the target of all those crazy fans? There are over sixty thousand people in or around the cricket club every day, not including half of Bhopal's police force and private security." Zoya's voice shakes. "How do we protect Phupee from that kind of mob?"

Asad's breathing sharpens as the full horror of the possible catastrophe becomes clear to him. He opens and closes his fists several times, looking around as though searching for a target for his resurfacing rage.

"I have to get rid of Rohan," he decides. "Immediately."

"No! That's exactly what you can't do," Zoya protests."You must allow Rohan to stay. You have to pretend nothing's wrong until I figure this all out. I know you want to protect us, to remove the threat, but you mustn't. You need to fight your instincts. You have to stop being you to protect Phupee."

Asad shakes his head, his face tight and expressionless as his desire to punish Rohan battles with his instinctive need to protect his family. Zoya watches him fight the internal battle, her eyes wet with sympathy.

"Now do you understand why I didn't tell you, Mr. Khan?" Her voice is sad but resigned. "I knew how much this would hurt you. You're used to fighting the rest of the world to protect us but you don't know how to fight yourself. I didn't want to put that burden on you."

He stumbles back, is if her words are a punch to his gut. "So you took it upon yourself? You did all this, investigated alone, pushed me away, wandered around in the middle of the night and risked yourself because you didn't want to burden me?"

"You'd do the same if the situation was reversed," she points out. "You'd hide things from me if you thought they would hurt me. Why wouldn't I do that for you, too?"

Asad stares at her as if he's seeing her for the first time. It takes him a minute to regroup, his mouth half open and his eyes dilated with shock. When he's finally able to speak, his voice is raw and achingly hoarse. "You did all this alone, Ms. Farooqui. Alone. Didn't you think about what kind of danger you might have to face?"

"It didn't matter, Mr. Khan," she says, her eyes dark and haunted. "Do you really think I value my own safety over Phupee's or--" her voice catches, "or yours?"

Asad just stares at her, stunned beyond words. She sighs heavily and sways, drained by finally voicing the fear that had weighed so heavily on her soul.

"Zoya!" Asad grabs her, holding her securely in his embrace.

She rubs her head. "I feel dizzy."

"It's a reaction to the blood loss and the drugs." He lifts her up in his arms and uses his remote to unlock the SUV. "The doctor warned me it would happen. He gave me juice."

He sets her in the soft bucket seat. She closes her eyes, the car's interior lights too bright for her whirling head.

"Here, drink this." He twists the cap off a small bottle. "It'll help stabilize your blood sugar."

She takes a sip and makes a face. "What is this? It tastes awful."

"Prune juice." He holds the bottle to her lips. "Your taste buds are off because of all the drugs in your system. Drink it."

She tries to push it away. "Can't I have orange juice or mango juice instead?"

"No, this is better for you. It has iron in it." He cups her head and tips the bottle, the way one would feed a stubborn child. "The doctor says you need to have at least three full glasses of prune juice in the next twelve hours."

She gives up her resistance and swallows fast, as if gulping down medicine. She shudders afterwards, scrunching her face at the horrible taste. "I have to have two more of these? Haven't I suffered enough?"

She sounds childish and petulant but Asad doesn't scold her. He takes a tissue from the center console and gently wipes away a drop of juice still clinging to her bottom lip. Zoya blinks, her eyes dazed and unfocused, and smiles at him. He settles her into the seat, fussing to make sure the seatbelt strap doesn't hurt her injured arm then shuts the door for her. Seconds later, he's in the driver's side, fastening his own seatbelt and starting the car.

"Do you want me to recline your seat so you can sleep on the way home?" he asks.

"No, I'm not sleepy." She looks out the window at the night passing by her. It's still fully dark outside. "Do you think Phupee and Najma know about my arm?"

"No. I moved fast." Asad's grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles turn white. "I only stopped long enough to grab my wallet and keys and wrap your arm in a towel. They would have called by now if they knew."

"Can we keep it that way?" she asks quietly. "There's no need to upset or worry them, is there?"

"How do you plan on hiding it from them?" Asad demands. "You have to take it easy on your arm, which means no lifting or straining until the stitches come out."

She thinks about it. "I agree that I have to tell them I hurt myself. But why upset them with the extent of my injury? What can they do but worry about it? Why burden them when they already have some much going on?"

Asad glances over at her. "They'll want to take care of you."

"And they will," Zoya agrees. "It doesn't matter if I've strained my weak arm or cut it. Najma already wants to do more around the house so it's fine." She pauses for a beat. "And it'll be easier to pretend everything is normal for Rohan if we say my old injury is acting up."

Asad stares straight ahead, giving the empty road more attention than it needs.

"I'm not going to ask you anymore tonight," he finally says."I know you're exhausted and need to rest. But tomorrow, after you have a chance to recover, you're going to tell me everything." He glances at her. "Every last detail."

Zoya nods. "Will you let me deal with Rohan? Please? I'll agree to any conditions you set," she pleads. "We have to know what he's after. Phupee won't be safe until we do."

Asad is quiet for so long she thinks he's not going to answer her. But finally he nods his head. "My condition is that I know and am involved in everything you do. You don't try to hide or protect me from anything. Agreed?"

"Agreed." She looks over at him. "You're taking all this a lot better than I thought you would."

"That's because I spent the last hour terrified out of my mind that I would lose you." His voice is harsh and controlled. "It gave me time to think about what I'll do differently in the future."

"Like what?" Zoya's brow wrinkles in confusion.

He pulls up to their house. "We'll talk it all out tomorrow. Right now, we both need to get some rest." He parks the car. "I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a very eventful day."

She nods and fumbles to unfasten her seatbelt. He gently brushes her hand aside and releases the lock. She reaches over and opens her door with her good right hand but he's there to hold the door open before she even turns in her seat. He lifts her out as though she's as fragile as spun sugar. He tries to carry her but she wiggles out of his arms.

"No, someone might see us," she protests. "Then they'll know I've done more than just strain my arm."

"Ms. Farooqui, be sensible." Asad's voice lowers warningly and he reaches to scoop her up again.

She holds out her good arm to stop him. "No. I won't worry Phupee and Najma. I won't."

"So stubborn." Asad rubs his forehead and sighs. "Fine."

He takes her good hand and wraps his arm around her waist. Despite her insistence, she holds his hand tightly and allows him to guide her into the silent house and to the foot of the staircase.

"Do you want me to help you to your room?" he asks.

She smiles and shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. I can do it myself."

She turns to go up the stairs but is stopped because he still hasn't released her hand. She turns back to look at him.

"You don't have to do everything yourself." He steps so close to her his breath feathers her bangs. "I can help you."

She gives him her brightest, most confident smile. "I know you can, Mr. Khan, but trust me, I'm fine. I'm just going to change, brush my teeth and go to bed. How can you help me with that?"

He opens his mouth to reply but she pulls her hand free and turns away before he can speak. Drawing on every ounce of energy and stubborn willpower she possesses, she quickly ascends the stairs. Glancing down, she sees Asad still standing where she left him, staring after her with a concerned frown on his face.

Seconds later, she slips into Najma's room. The curtains are pulled back and moonlight floods the bed. Najma is sleeping peacefully, her hands tucked under her chin like a little girl. Zoya tiptoes past her and into the bathroom. It takes her a long time to unbutton and remove her ruined sweater and blouse. She's exhausted by the time she accomplishes her task, so much so that she has to rest before she can remove her jeans and slowly, carefully dress in her pajamas.

Sweat soaks her skin by the time she stumbles out of the bathroom and finally falls into the bed.

"Zoya?" Najma's voice is sleep-slurred and thick. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Zoya whispers. "I...I just went down for a glass of water. Go back to sleep."

Najma reaches out and covers Zoya's good hand. She snuggles in and instantly falls back asleep. Zoya lays still and shuts her eyes, feeling both heavy and weightless at the same time. She tries to relax but her mind won't rest. Images of the night flash behind her eyelids, like a silent movie, some of the images sharp and intense and others blurred and vague.

She recalls the fearful moments when the goons surrounded Ayaan's motorcycle, Ayaan fighting them off, Rohan knocking them away and Ayaan speeding into the night. The memory of the night flying by while holding on tightly to Ayaan and the nagging sense of something being terribly wrong makes her heart beat faster. She recalls stumbling into the back yard and seeing her own cut arm, the dripping blood looking almost black in the faint light making her breath catch. Then she remembers Asad holding her, the absolute comfort and safety of his arms, and her throat relaxes.

The memories come faster and sharper now, setting her heart racing. Asad's horror at seeing her weak and bloody, the whirling sensation when he carried her into his room, her sharp cry when he wrapped her arm so tightly, the buildings whizzing by from the passenger seat of his car, him shaking her shoulder to keep her awake, her crying and sobbing to rest for just a minute, the hospital's bright lights and antiseptic smell assaulting her senses, of hiding her face in Asad's neck as he screamed for help, of screaming herself when they tried to take her from his arms, of Asad holding her hand so tightly it hurt, of looking into his terror-filled eyes and apologizing for his pain, of him promising to do anything if she just survived.

Zoya bolts upright in bed, gasping for breath, sweat soaking through her pajamas, her heart hammering as though she's just run a mile with all the demons in hell chasing after her. She puts her hand to her racing heart and looks around, trying desperately to calm herself.

Finally, the frantic beating of her heart eases. She looks over to see Najma still sleeping peacefully beside her. Carefully, she untangles herself from the damp sheets and slips out of the bed.

"You're not sleeping tonight," she murmurs. "Too much excitement."

She goes back downstairs, soundless on her bare feet. All the lights are off and the house is in deep shadows, lit only by the waning moonlight. She crosses to the living room cabinet and takes her iPad. She turns to go back to the staircase and stops herself.

"No, Zoya, you can't go upstairs," she whispers. "Najma and Phupee are asleep. You can't disturb them. The guest room is a mess. You can't go in there, either. Mr. Khan is asleep in his room and Rohan is probably back, too." She looks around. "So where to go?"

She looks around again. The silence settles over her like a heavy weight, thick and cloying, giving rise to the sense of abandonment and aloneness.

"Zoya, you're being silly," she scolds herself. "You're just tense. Relax." She finally sinks into the corner of the living room sofa and props her iPad on the table. "You need to watch something light and fun. Maybe some cartoons will relax your mind. Stop thinking about the day."

Despite her order to herself, the images assault her again. Asad's face, sickly-pale with terror, then his face flushed with rage, his fists clenching white-knuckle tight, the shattered SUV window and the memory of his harsh breathing make her heart begin pounding again. She shudders and looks around frantically. The house is still and quiet, the shadows even darker in the waning moonlight.

"Light," she mutters. "You need light."

She reaches out to the tablet but her hand is shaking so badly she cannot touch the screen. She stares at her hand in confusion, unable to understand her own reaction. Suddenly, she's very cold and her body shudders again, so hard it makes her teeth rattle. Then the shivers begin, wave after wave, draining her already weakened body. She hears soft whimpers, like an animal crying in pain. Looking around, she's horrified to realize the whimpers are coming out of her own throat. She shoves her fist into her mouth to muffle them and stumbles up from the couch.

She turns for the staircase and stops. There is no place for her upstairs. She looks at her bedroom door, now Rohan's, and knows there is no refuge there. She looks to Asad's room but his door is closed, no light shining through the frosted glass panels. The darkness becomes even heavier as the moon slips lower in the sky. She looks around frantically, desperate for an escape, biting down on her hand to control the sobs that want to tear out of her throat.

Moonlight glints off the back door latch, a tiny beacon in the crushing darkness. She weaves towards it, her balance poor with one hand held protectively close to her body and the other holding her hysteria at bay. She has to take her hand out of her mouth to fumble with the door latch. The deep teeth marks are clearly visible even in the weakening moonlight. She bites into her lower lip as she fights to open the door with only one hand, desperate sobs strangling in her throat.

Suddenly another hand appears and covers hers, pulling her away from the door. Before her frantic mind can process what's happening, she's lifted against a rock-hard chest. Her brain doesn't comprehend but her body understands. She wraps her good arm around Asad's broad shoulders and buries her face in his neck, hysterical sobs shuddering through her body, so relentless that she has no choice but to submit to them.

***

She doesn't know how long the storm lasts. Her mind and her emotions are a swirling mass of anxiety and confusion. Asad's arms are the safe harbor keeping her steady as she fights her way out of the whirlwind. Finally the racking, painful sobs subside and she slumps against him, her breath coming out in weak, whispery hiccups. Only then does she realize he's talking to her, his voice a warm, steady chant that reaches into the exhaustion of her mind.

"You're safe now, Zoya. You're safe." His voice is rough and warm as he rocks her soothingly.

He repeats the words over and over again, as if he also needs the reassurance. His hold across her shoulders and around her waist is almost too tight but she doesn't protest.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to wake you. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Shh, it's fine," he soothes.

"Najma and Phupee are sleeping, Rohan has my room and you have your room. I don't have a place." She grabs his kurta collar with her good hand and more tears fall out of her bloodshot, scratchy eyes. "I don't have a place."

"Yes, you do." He tucks her head against his shoulder. "This is your place."

She pulls up again. "I didn't want to bother you. I was trying to go out to the back lawn so you could sleep in peace. You need to rest."

"I need to know you're safe," he counters and guides her head back to his shoulder.

She finally becomes aware of how damp and sticky his shirt is. "I've ruined your clothes. First the blood and now this! You need to be clean. I'm sorry!" She tries to scramble out of his arms but her movements are weak and useless.

"Stop!" he orders but his voice is low and gentle. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

She looks around and sees that she's in Asad's room, in Asad's bed and in Asad's lap. "Mr. Khan, I have to go. What if someone finds us like this?"

Again, she tries to wiggle out of his arms but her body is exhausted and helpless. Asad presses his cheek against her head to settle her.

"It's okay," he assures her. "If anyone has any questions or problems, I'll deal with it in the morning."

She stops wiggling. "But what about the tameez and tehzeeb you're always lecturing me about?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, his mouth curves into a rueful half-smile and he rubs his cheek against her hair. "They have their place, but it's not here."

She subsides for a few silent moments, absorbing his warmth and comfort into her cold, battered and weary soul, his heartbeat strong and reassuring against her cheek.

"I was trying to protect you, Mr. Khan," she finally whispers.

He continues to rock her. "I know."

"And I was trying to protect Phupee." Her voice is weak and thin.

His lips brush against her temple. "I know."

"I love your family as my own."

He kisses the top of her head. "I know."

"I wasn't being impulsive," she insists. "I thought about the consequences."

A shudder passes through him. "I know."

"They just weren't as important as Phupee or you."

His arms tighten around her and he has to force himself to ease his grip. "I know."

"I'm not selfish, Mr. Khan." Her voice catches on a soft sob.

He stiffens. "I know."

"I'm not stupid, either. I knew I was taking risks but I had no choice. I didn't want you to suffer." Her voice trembles.

He opens his mouth to breathe, fighting to get air past his tightening throat. "I know."

"I'd do anything to protect you."

Tears spring into his eyes. "I know."

"I cried every time I hurt you."

He blinks rapidly but the tears continue to fill his eyes. "I know."

She slumps against him, completely drained emotionally and physically. "I didn't want to go against you, but I had to do what was right for Phupee."

Asad shuts his eyes but he can't stop the tears that spill down his cheeks and soak into her hair. He buries his face in the fragrant mass. "I know."

Zoya is silent after that, the confession lightening her soul, easing her frantic mind until her body finally relaxes. She falls asleep in the shelter of the arms that have always protected and saved her. Asad continues to rock, her steady heartbeat soothing and reassuring him. Then, as the new dawn breaks on the horizon, he also sleeps.

For the first time in his life, Asad Ahmed Khan experiences the soul-deep pleasure and comfort of another heart synchronized in perfect harmony with his own.

Author's Notes: As always, all mistakes are mine and made accidentally. This story is not intended to hurt anyone's feelings, culture or beliefs. Much thanks to my wonderful beta readers for their support, assistance and endless patience!

I receive the very happy news that I'd won an award as Best Author for my QH fanfics. I'm very surprised and honored by the win. Thank you to everyone who nominated me and who voted for me. It makes me feel so good to know my work is appreciated like this. I also want to thank everyone who leaves me feedback and sends private message. Your responses always encourage me to continue to work hard and improve at my craft.

Take care,

Paly

I loved the update. It was awesome. The emotions. The anger. The trauma. The hurt. The protective Asad. The sacrificing Zoya. The indirect confession. Everything was fantastic. You are a gifted writer and I am thankful that I came across your work. Keep writing such interesting stories

I just loved the update. Can read it over nd over again.
Aah! I dont hav words to describe how i loved it.
So beautifully penned down girl.
Hats off!

❤️

Simply love it.
And love the way asad stands by zoya & look aft her...
Really a good confessions from both of them...

Hi,