Emerging from the brightly lit mall entrance into the night, Ava juggled several shopping bags filled with her recent purchases. There was a sleek new smartphone, still in its box, a couple of silk scarves, a stylish handbag, and a few trendy dresses she'd impulsively picked out. Farah, meanwhile, was engrossed in her phone, her fingers flying across the screen as she booked a ride.
"Alright, the cab's booked," Farah announced, finally looking up. "Ten minutes." She relieved Ava of a couple of the heavier bags.
Ava sighed dramatically, "Elara's credit card is going to cry blood tonight."
Farah laughed. "He deserves it. He's been working non-stop and acting like a grumpy old man. Let him pay for this."
Ava sighed dramatically, "Elara's credit card is going to cry blood tonight."
Farah laughed. "He deserves it. He's been working non-stop and acting like a grumpy old man. Let him pay for this."
They walked side by side toward the cab pickup area — a quiet space with metal benches, soft overhead lights, and people standing in pairs or alone, waiting for their rides. Cars came and went in slow rhythm.
Then — a sharp honk broke through the quiet.
Both girls instinctively turned.
Black sedan. Windows down just enough, Ibrahim sat behind the wheel, one hand on the steering, the other resting casually on the window frame — like a king ordering his queen back to his throne.
His voice wasn't loud, but the command in it was clear.
"Ava. Get in the car."
Ava's stomach dropped. "Shit," she whispered. "Why is he here…"
"Omg, Ava, don't freak out — remember the plan!"
"No way. Not now," Ava hissed. She grabbed Farah's arm tightly, forcing a smile at passers-by and walked faster toward the far end of the cab zone.
But before they could get too far, Ibrahim hit the accelerator — the car surged ahead, cutting in front of them and coming to a smooth, sudden stop at an angle that boxed them in completely. His car now stood like a wall between them and the rest of the path, forcing them to halt.
Ava stared as Ibrahim stepped out of the car and closed the door with that same irritating calmness he always carried. The night breeze fluttered the collar of his black shirt, untucked just slightly, sleeves rolled up over his forearms. His charcoal grey pants hugged his frame like they were made just for him—sharp, dangerous, and maddeningly composed.
She hated how good he looked standing there. Even more how he knew it.
He met her glare with a faint smirk. "So, you're just going to walk by me like I don't exist?"
His eyes shamelessly traced the slit running up her fitted beige skirt, her soft blue blouse tucked neatly at the waist. Even angry, she looked sexy. Especially angry. God help him. When the breeze moved her hair over her shoulder, he had to take a breath.
Ava didn't even flinch at his question. "Why are you here? And the main thing—how the hell do you even know I'm at this mall? Are you stalking me again?"
He smirked slightly, stepping closer. The yellow parking light shimmered across his sharp jawline. "I'll choose to answer that later. Right now, I want to talk to you. One hour, that's all I ask."
She opened her mouth to refuse, but before she could even form a full sentence, Farah stepped in, "Well... I guess you two have some serious shit to talk about," her eyes darting between them. "And me standing here is like watching a storm roll in with no umbrella. I'll go. The cab's here."
Ava turned sharply. "Farah—"
But Farah already moved, grabbing all the shopping bags from Ava's hands before she could protest. "Please bring her home as soon as you're done, Mr. Ibrahim." she said over her shoulder.
His jaw flexed as he watched her walk off. "Thanks," he said flatly. It was a forced courtesy, because he despised Farah. He tolerated her for Ava, and nothing more.
"What thanks?" Ava snapped, glaring at him.
"So, let's not waste the one hour you're giving me," he swung the car key between his fingers with a nonchalant ease.
"It's not giving. You're forcing me."
"If I was forcing you, you'd already be inside the car by now." He then gestured to the open passenger door, "So, hop in or I will simply pick you up and place you there myself."
Ava rolled her eyes in defiance, but she knew better than to push him further. Without another word, she climbed into the car, slamming the door shut with a sharp click.
The drive was suffocating in its silence. The only sound was the hum of the engine as Ibrahim navigated the empty streets. Ava stared out the window. She didn't know where he was taking her. The night sky looked angry. Clouds had gathered like a war was about to start in the heavens. Thick and black, they moved fast, covering the moon in layers. A soft rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. The air felt heavy, as if rain could burst at any moment.
Ibrahim pulled the car to a stop at the edge of a quiet cliffside, just off the highway.The headlights cut through the darkness. The view was hauntingly beautiful—Kuala Lumpur glittered far below like a bed of stars spilled across the earth. Skyscrapers blinked in the distance, and the Petronas Towers stood proud.
Ava stepped out after him, heels clicking awkwardly on the uneven ground. The cold breeze instantly tangled in her hair, whipping it across her face. She leaned back against the still-warm engine, arms crossed over her chest. It was a good thing it was night—she couldn't see the height clearly, or she might've panicked.
His expensive, familiar cologne drifted into her lungs. Without looking, she knew he was standing beside her, close. A subtle warmth spread through her arm as their sleeves brushed.
"Did you ever come here before?" Ibrahim asked, looking at the view instead of her.
"No," Ava replied, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
He nodded slowly. "When I was a kid, my father used to bring me here. Every Friday night. No matter how late he came home… we'd drive all the way here in silence, just to stand. He'd light a cigarette, stare at the city and say—'This whole city is a lie, Ibrahim. But you'll survive it… if you learn how to lie better than it.'"
He chuckled under his breath. "Didn't know back then that he was warning me… about himself too."
Ava turned her head to look at him. His gaze still fixed on the faraway skyline, the wind gently rustling his shirt. He spoke again. Softer. Not for her, but as if he was finally allowing himself to say something he'd buried for years.
"I was born into gold. We had everything. Mansions. Cars. Bodyguards. I didn't grow up like other kids. And yeah, I got whatever I pointed at."
He let out a small laugh.
"I used to love the sky. Not just love—it was an obsession. I had a telescope... I still remember the exact model. Black body, white lens, and a small scratch on the side because I tried to clean it with my school shirt. I used to drag it up to the rooftop every weekend. Even in the cold. Even when I had exams. Planets, stars, constellations… I could name all of them by heart."
A pause.
"But my father didn't care. He used to walk past me, shake his head and say, 'Boys born in my house don't waste time on things that don't pay.' I thought he'd come around eventually. Thought one day he'd sit next to me, maybe ask what I was looking at."
He shook his head slowly, jaw tight. "He never did. One night he came home drunk—angry about some deal that went wrong. I'd left the telescope out, right there on the terrace. He took one look at it, poured whiskey on the lenses and set the damn thing on fire. I still remember the smell of burning metal."
Suddenly, a loud crack tore through the sky. The thunder split the silence like a scream, followed by a flash so bright that for a second, the entire cliffside lit up like daylight.
And in that single second, Ava saw his face. He looked... tired. Not the tired from lack of sleep, but the deep, sunken exhaustion of carrying a life that was never really his.
"I stopped looking at the sky after that. Because every time I did… it reminded me I once had a different heart. And that boy didn't survive." He turned to her slowly, finally. "My father didn't just make me a mafia. He made sure I'd never want to be anything else."
He turned to her fully now, facing her in a way that made Ava instinctively straighten her spine. "That's why my brain works like this, baby girl. Twisted. Rewired. If I don't get something… I don't move on. I dig. I break. I twist until the world gives it to me. That's what he taught me. That's what happened with you too. The more you tried to escape… the more I needed to keep you. Not because I want to trap you—but because I don't know how to not fight for what's mine. I don't know how to let go."
Ava's lips parted to say something, but he lifted his hand gently, stopping her.
"I know what you think of me," he said. "You think I'm a control freak, a stalker, a madman who shows up out of nowhere just to claim you like some possession. But you don't see the fear under all of it. I've built empires, Ava. I've killed men, buried secrets, erased names from this world like they never existed. But when it comes to you... I can't even sleep if I don't know you've eaten."
Another loud crack tore across the sky—louder than before. This time, it was followed by the softest touch of rain. Tiny droplets began falling, dotting Ava's satin top and cooling her skin.
Ibrahim looked up at the sky briefly, blinking the drops from his lashes before lowering his eyes to her again. The darkness of his black shirt was slowly speckled with rain.
"They know you're my weakness. That I'd burn the world if anything happens to you. They would use you to get to me without hesitation. They already tried once. I can't take that chance again. I won't."
Her brows furrowed, confused and shaken. "Who? Who are you talking about?"
But he didn't answer. His eyes drifted to the ground as if the weight of her question pressed too hard on his chest. It wasn't hesitation. It was restraint. Like the truth was too sharp to hand over, even to her. Especially to her. She just stared at him. Rain slid down the curve of his cheekbones like tears he would never let fall. For the first time, truly saw him standing there, not as the man who terrified half the city, but as someone broken by the people who raised him, reshaped by survival, hardened by a lifetime of being watched, used, and trained to never show weakness.
This… this was his lowest.
And if she wanted Farah's plan to work—this was the moment to strike. She lifted her hand gently and touched his cheek. He flinched, almost instinctively.
"I'm sorry. For everything you went through.. You didn't deserve a father who burned your dreams just because he was drunk. You didn't deserve to be forced into a world where no one asked you what you wanted. You didn't deserve to lose your sky."
He blinked. He wasn't breathing. And she knew he hadn't expected this warmth from her. The rain poured harder now, plastering their hair to their foreheads.
Ava continued, "And now... there are so many things you do, so many decisions you make, that I don't understand. You shut me out, assuming everything will somehow harm me. But I want to know you, Ibrahim. All of you. Isn't... isn't our relationship worth me being trusted with the truth, even if it's ugly? I want a real relationship with you. One where I share my thoughts, and you share yours. I'm tired of running, Ibrahim. Do you even realize how much it hurts me to be away from you? Only I know the fear and the loneliness I felt when I ran to Thailand. I'm done with this suffocating air between us. If you truly want me in your life, then you need to treat me like a wife, not a possession. I'm not some woman who just wants your money. A relationship should be equal, a partnership. Fifty-fifty."
His gazed fixed on her hand as it slowly, reluctantly, slid away from his cheek. The warmth of her touch was there on his skin for a fleeting moment before the cold rain washed it away. Then, slowly, his gaze lifted to her face—rain-kissed, glistening, too beautiful for this damned world. One drop trailed slowly from her temple down to her lower lip. He watched it fall… and somehow, it made everything more difficult to hold back. Every inch of him told him to pull her closer. She wasn't even trying—and yet she looked like sin carved in silk and sadness.
On the other side, Ava's mind was spinning—chaotic, loud, uncontrollable. What the hell had she just said?
Did she really just tell him she wanted a healthy relationship with him? That she wanted rights? That she didn't want to run anymore? God. It sounded like she was begging him to stay. After what he did to her? After the times he lied, hurt, and even scared her? Where was the steel in her spine she promised herself she'd always carry when facing him? She wanted to take back every word. To shove them back in her mouth and act like they never happened.
She quickly turned her face away, avoiding his stare. The thick darkness and endless around the cliff—only added to the way she felt inside. Small. Trapped.
Ibrahim leaned closer to her ear and the scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh petrichor of the rain, stirring something deep inside her. Ava couldn't help but shiver at the sensation.
"If you truly want this connection you speak of," he murmured "then you need to stop flinching every time I'm near..." His hand traced down the side of her arm, "Prove you're tired of running," And then his fingers stopped at the waistline of her skirt. "Take off that skirt… and let me ruin you."