The estate was quiet, wrapped in the early hush of dawn. Light spilled through high windows, brushing over marble floors, pooling at Noor's feet like some offering from a world she did not belong to.
She sat by the window, her posture languid, her hands wrapped around a porcelain cup.
Zeyla stood just outside the room, Watching.
Last night, blood had dripped from her mouth ,a cruel contrast against pale skin. It had stained her lips, pooled on the floor, but Noor had simply wiped it away.
She had smiled.
And then she closed her eyes .
Like it was nothing.
Like she was used to it.
A sharp breath. Zeyla looked away.
"God, you're staring again."
Maya leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. "It's getting weird, Zeyla. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in love."
Zeyla exhaled through her nose. "Don't be ridiculous."
Maya smirked. "Oh, no, you're right. Silly me. Admiring her in silence, watching her every move, brooding like some tragic novel character? Totally normal."
Zeyla ignored her.
Maya grinned, tilting her head. "Come on, just admit it. You're obsessed. It's fine, we all are. She's Noor. It happens."
Zeyla's grip tightened. "You don't understand."
Maya snorted. "Oh, so now there's depth to this tragic love story?"
Zeyla finally turned to her.
The smile on Maya's lips faltered just slightly.
Zeyla's voice was smooth. "You call it admiration. Obsession. But what do you call a man watching the ocean before it swallows him whole?"
Maya blinked. "What?"
Zeyla's expression didn't change. "What do you call someone who cannot look away from the abyss, even when they know it will consume them?"
Maya's mouth opened, then closed.
Zeyla's voice dropped lower. "You think I love her? That's foolish." A pause. "I do not love the storm that will one day drown me."
Maya let out a low whistle. "Okay. Damn. I was not prepared for that level of damage this early in the morning."
Zeyla turned back toward Noor.
Maya exhaled, rubbing a hand down her face. "You know, most people just say 'no, I don't like her' and move on."
Zeyla didn't respond.
Maya shook her head. "I swear, you and Noor could have one normal conversation and the world would collapse."
Maya sighed dramatically, stretching her arms. "Well, I hope you're enjoying your existential crisis. I, personally, am going to get breakfast."
She turned to leave—
And then Noor moved.
Setting down her cup.
Both of them went silent instantly, instinct snapping to attention.
Noor's voice was calm. "Cancel all my appointments."
Maya froze. "What?"
Noor rose, the silk of her dress catching the light as she moved.
Maya blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry—we're what?"
Zeyla frowned.
Maya scoffed. "Did I hit my head last night? Did I wake up in another dimension? Since when do you cancel everything for something that isn't business?"
Noor didn't look at her. "I do not need to explain myself."
Maya let out a short laugh. "Well, that's convenient."
Zeyla studied Noor, voice quieter. "You're going to see Sanlang."
Noor's eyes flickered.
Maya groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Oh, of course it's about him." She turned to Zeyla. "You hearing this? You getting this? I feel like we should be taking notes."
Noor was already moving toward the door.
Maya stared after her. Then turned to Zeyla. "Are we just letting this happen?"
Zeyla hesitated. Then—
"No," she murmured. "We're going with her."
Maya groaned. "Oh, great. Let's all go visit the pretty, tragic man in the hospital."
Zeyla started after Noor.
Maya sighed, rubbing her temples. "I swear to God, if I have to listen to more poetic suffering before noon—"
"Then suffer quietly," Noor said smoothly.
Maya gasped, offended. "You did not just—"
But Noor was already gone.
Maya turned to Zeyla. "You see what I deal with?"
Zeyla just smirked. "Come on. We don't want to keep your favorite person waiting."
Maya let out a sound of pure betrayal. "HOW DARE YOU."
Maya groaned, following after them. "Unbelievable. No respect. None."
__________
As Noor entered the room, Sanlang was sitting up in bed. But the instant his eyes landed on her, his demeanor shifted dramatically. His strong, composed facade melted away, and he flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.
"Noor," he whined softly, his voice taking on a childish tone, "I don't feel well."
Noor, though aware of his little act, smiled fondly. She approached him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she gently touched his forehead as if to check for a fever. "Poor thing," she whispered, her voice filled with tender affection, "let me take care of you."
Sanlang's eyes lit up at the attention, and he dramatically placed his head in her lap, nuzzling against her like a child seeking comfort. Noor stroked his hair soothingly, her fingers running through his blonde locks with the same gentleness she would use on a newborn. "There, there," she cooed softly, "you'll be fine in no time."
He pouted, his eyes looking up at her with playful mischief. "I think I'll need your care for a while, Noor. I feel so weak."
Noor's laughter was soft and sweet as she continued to stroke his hair.
Sanlang grinned, his voice still laced with that childish tone. "I only am like this for you. No one else gets to see this side of me."
As Noor cradled his head, she couldn't help but smile, her heart softening at his playful vulnerability. Her fingers traced small circles on his scalp, and Sanlang closed his eyes, soaking up her care like a starved child.
Across the room, Zeyla and Maya stood silently, watching the scene unfold. This was not the Noor they were used to—the poised, commanding woman who could bring down enemies with just a glance. This Noor was different—gentle, nurturing, and undeniably human.
Maya leaned slightly toward Zeyla and whispered, her voice filled with amazement, "Is this the same, Madam Noor? I don't think I've ever seen her like this."
Zeyla shook her head in disbelief, her eyes glued to the tender scene. "Never. I've never seen her care for someone like this."
Maya nodded, trying to make sense of it all. "It's like… he brings out a side of her we never knew existed."
Zeyla crossed her arms, her gaze still fixed on the pair. "She's always been so guarded. But with him, she's different. Softer. Like he's the only one who can break through that shell."
Maya sighed, a hint of wonder in her voice. "It's like watching a completely different person. I never thought she could be so… gentle."
Zeyla's lips twitched into a small smile. "I guess we're seeing the real Noor—at least, the part she's kept hidden from everyone."
As Noor continued to softly murmur soothing words to Sanlang, completely immersed in their moment, both Zeyla and Maya knew they were witnessing something rare and precious.
Her gaze searching his face for signs of discomfort. "Where does it hurt?" she asked gently, her voice laced with genuine concern.
Sanlang looked up at her, his eyes filled with something deeper than just pain. Without a word, he took her hand and slowly guided it to his chest, placing it right over his heart. "It hurts the most here," he whispered, his voice tender and vulnerable.
Noor's breath caught for a moment as her hand rested against his heartbeat. She looked into his eyes, her fingers softly tracing the outline of his chest, feeling the warmth beneath them.
For a long, quiet moment, they sat like that—his hand covering hers, and her eyes locked on his. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in this shared silence.
From afar, Zeyla and Maya exchanged glances, sensing the intensity of the connection between them. Maya's eyes widened slightly as she whispered, "I don't think I've ever seen him look at her like that before…"
Zeyla nodded, her voice low. "It's not just about the pain... there's something else. Something much deeper."
Noor, still holding her hand over his heart, finally broke the silence. "Does it ever stop hurting?" she asked quietly.
Sanlang smiled faintly, though his eyes shimmered with unshed emotions. "It never has... not until now."
As Noor's hand rested on Sanlang's heart, the quiet intimacy between them lingered, but then she felt the weight of Zeyla and Maya's eyes on her from across the room. Realizing their presence, her face flushed a soft shade of pink, a rare display of emotion that neither Zeyla nor Maya had ever witnessed before.
Quickly, Noor pulled her hand away from Sanlang, but the moment she did, he pouted like a child, his lips forming a small frown. "It still hurts, Noor," he complained, his voice playful yet pleading. "I need your hand here. It helps."
Noor, flustered, looked away, her cheeks deepening in color as she tried to compose herself. "Don't be ridiculous, Sanlang," she muttered softly, attempting to regain her usual composure. But the teasing smile on Sanlang's face only grew wider.
He leaned closer, his tone flirtatious. "Come on, Noor. You know your touch makes it all better. Just a little more—right here," he said, patting his chest dramatically. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he watched her turn her head away, trying to hide her reddened face.
Noor glanced at the window, avoiding his gaze, though her heart betrayed her with its quickened beat. "You're being childish," she replied quietly, though her lips almost curved into a smile.
From across the room, Zeyla and Maya were stunned, witnessing their usually composed and unshakeable Lady Noor—who had never shown any personal emotions—now flustered and tender.
Maya, eyes wide, leaned toward Zeyla and whispered, "Is that... our Lady Noor? I ..she..—she's actually blushing."
Zeyla nodded in disbelief. "I thought nothing could ever make her lose her composure. But look at her... she's completely undone by him. It's almost unreal."
Maya stifled a giggle, her voice hushed with awe. "I always thought she was immune to things like this, but I guess... everyone has someone who makes them weak."
Zeyla smirked. "Or strong. Look at her. Even now, she's trying to pretend she's unaffected, but we can all see the truth."
They both exchanged a look, realizing that for the first time, they were seeing the true depth of her emotions.Maya added softly, "It's strange, isn't it? To see her like this... in love, like anyone else."
Zeyla glanced back at Noor and Sanlang, watching as Sanlang tried to tug her hand back playfully, and Noor, despite her efforts to resist, couldn't help but let a smile slip through. "Maybe this is who she's always been... she just never let anyone see it until now."
Zeyla and Maya, still in awe of what they'd just witnessed, exchanged one final glance before stepping into the room. Their expressions were composed, but their curiosity was undeniable. They approached the bed where Sanlang sat, eyes gleaming with mischief as he watched Noor.
Zeyla was the first to speak, her voice gentle yet firm. "How are you feeling, Sanlang? We heard you weren't doing well."
Sanlang's gaze shifted from Noor to the two women, his demeanor instantly cooling. He gave them a brief, almost dismissive glance. "I'm fine," he replied flatly, his tone cold and distant compared to the playful warmth he had shown Noor moments ago.
Maya frowned, a little taken aback by the change in his attitude, but before she could respond, Noor interjected, her voice sharp yet soft. "Sanlang," she scolded, her brow furrowing. "Bad manners are not something to be proud of. You're better than this."
Her words had an immediate effect. Sanlang's playful smirk faded, and he looked down, like a child caught misbehaving. "I didn't mean to be rude," he mumbled, glancing at Zeyla and Maya, his earlier arrogance melting away. "I'm sorry, both of you."
Zeyla and Maya exchanged a quick glance, astonished by how easily he was brought to heel by Noor's words. They had never seen him act this way before—so obedient, so vulnerable.
"It's alright," Maya said, her voice kind as she sat on the edge of the bed. "We're just glad you're feeling better. Madam Noor's been worried about you."
Sanlang's eyes immediately flicked to Noor, softening as he gazed at her. "I know," he said quietly. "She takes care of me better than anyone else."
Noor, trying to mask her own emotions, crossed her arms and looked away, though the hint of a smile lingered on her lips. "Well, someone has to keep you in line," she teased softly, but there was warmth in her tone.
Maya couldn't help but grin at the scene unfolding before her. "It's good to see you're back to your usual self. But you should know, Zeyla and I won't let you off the hook so easily either."
Sanlang chuckled softly, the tension in the room easing. "I'll try to behave then," he said, his eyes flicking back to Noor. "But only if she stays around to keep an eye on me."
Noor's face flushed again, and she turned her attention to the window, trying to compose herself. "You really are impossible," she muttered.
Zeyla chimed in, leaning against the bedpost with a smirk. "Looks like you've found your match, Sanlang."
Sanlang's smile grew as he looked back at Noor, his gaze tender. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Noor shook her head, her expression softening. "Let's just make sure you rest properly. No more acting like a child."
Sanlang nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on her, full of admiration and something deeper. "Only if you promise to stay and make sure I do."
As the doctors entered the room, their expressions serious, Noor rose to greet them with her usual calm composure. The senior doctor, a man known for his stern demeanor and meticulous conditions, glanced at Sanlang before addressing Noor. "Madam Noor," he began, "Sanlang will need at least three months of strict bed rest. It would be best for him to stay in the hospital where we can monitor his condition closely."
Sanlang, already growing impatient, waved his hand dismissively. "I'm fine. I don't need to stay here any longer. I want to leave. I'd much rather go home."
Noor turned towards him, her gaze sharp and unyielding. The intensity in her eyes was enough to silence Sanlang immediately. He swallowed hard, realizing that arguing with her was futile.
Then, with that same unwavering poise, Noor shifted her focus back to the doctors. "Very well, then," she said firmly. "Prepare the discharge papers."
The doctors exchanged glances, visibly hesitant. One of them, spoke up nervously. "But, Madam Noor, his condition—"
Noor's eyes snapped to the young doctor, cutting him off mid-sentence. Her tone remained cool but commanding. "I'll take care of the rest. You needn't worry."
The senior doctor, who had been standing quietly, now stepped forward. He met Noor's gaze, and in that moment, a silent understanding passed between them. Bowing his head slightly in deference, he said, "Yes, my lady. As you wish."
The other doctors looked at him in shock, exchanging confused glances. This man, revered worldwide for both his medical prowess and his unshakable conditions, was now complying without hesitation. To them, it was unfathomable. But only Zeyla and Maya knew the truth behind this exchange. The senior doctor owed Noor a debt so great that his current standing, reputation, and success were all because of her intervention. Without her, he would never have achieved his esteemed position.
As the doctors hurried out to complete the paperwork, Zeyla leaned towards Maya and whispered, "Only Lady Noor could make a man like him bow. Do you think Sanlang has any idea who he's dealing with?"
Maya shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. "He's starting to learn, but I don't think he knows the full extent of her reach."
Noor, still standing tall, glanced briefly at Sanlang, who remained silent, realizing how serious the situation was. He knew better.
The hospital was quiet.
Zeyla stood in the shadows, where the light did not reach, where her presence did not exist.
Noor stood at the far end of the corridor, still as glass, framed by flickering fluorescent light.
And she was bleeding.
Dark red dripped between her fingers, slow, indifferent.
Zeyla clenched her jaw.
"She doesn't even care."
A flick of her wrist. A servant appeared, silent, pressing a silk handkerchief into her palm.
She wiped the blood away.
As if it had never been there.
Footsteps.
Zeyla did not move.
She already knew who it was.
"Madam Noor."
Dr. Alistair Veyne.
Noor did not turn.
"You are needed elsewhere, Doctor," she murmured.
"So are you."
A flicker of amusement. "Then go find me there."
"You're bleeding."
Finally, she turned.
Her expression was untouched. Unbothered.
"And?"
Dr. Veyne hesitated. Just for a second. A crack. Noor saw it.
Zeyla felt it.
"He's afraid."
"Good."
"This isn't the first time, is it?" Veyne asked.
Noor exhaled.
Then—as if he had asked an entirely different question—
"Does the ocean know it's killing the shore?"
Veyne blinked. "I—"
"Or does it think the shore is just leaving?"
Zeyla's nails dug into her skin.
"No, no, no."
"She is telling him something. She is telling him everything, but he does not understand."
Noor's voice was almost dreamlike.
"Do you know that stars do not die the way people think they do?"
Zeyla's stomach twisted.
No.
Not her voice—not like power, but prophecy.
Not the way she spoke—not like a woman keeping a secret, but like a woman who no longer sees the point of hiding it.
"They do not flicker out," Noor continued. "They do not collapse in silence.
They burn."
"Just before they go dark."
Something inside Zeyla snapped.
"She's already burning."
"And none of us saw the fire."
Dr. Veyne exhaled, slow. "You are—"
"A body can do the same thing," Noor interrupted.
Her voice was almost kind.
"Did you know the heart doesn't stop when you die?" Her gaze flicked to his chest, as if she could hear his.
"It beats one last time. A final, desperate attempt.
Like a moth mistaking the flame for a way out."
Dr. Veyne's hands curled into fists. "Madam—"
Noor tilted her head.
"Do you think the moth knows it is dying?"
Dr. Veyne said nothing.
Noor's lips curved. Soft. Already gone.
"You said I am caring for someone at the expense of my own life."
A breath.
Sharp. Deliberate.
"How long do you think I can stand like this?"
Dr. Veyne hesitated.
Noor smiled.
"I already have."
A silence too heavy to be ignored.
Then—
"You mistake me for a woman afraid of endings, Doctor."
Dr. Veyne's jaw tensed.
"No," he said quietly.
"I mistake you for a woman who has already written her ending."
Zeyla stopped breathing.
She pressed her back against the wall, fingers digging into her sleeves.
She had never felt helpless before.
Not in war. Not in blood. Not when she had taken lives, not when she had nearly lost her own.
And Zeyla—Zeyla was trapped in the moment before the collapse, standing in the space between the living and the dead, watching something sacred fade.
And she could do nothing.