Three days. Noor had not woken.
Maya stalked the dimly lit hotel suite, barely holding herself together. "She should have woken up by now." Her voice was raw, edged with desperation. "Why isn't she waking up?"
Janir sat unmoving beside Noor's bed. His fingers traced the rim of a glass, his eyes locked on her pale face. " Not yet."
Maya's fists clenched. "Stop speaking in riddles, Janir. If you know something, say it."
He didn't.
The air was thick. It almost felt wrong. Noor lay still, her skin too pale, her breath too shallow, but her beauty remained untouched.
Then, from her parted lips—a whisper.
Too faint to hear.
Janir leaned in. His fingers brushed her cheek, catching the tear that slipped down. He tasted it.
"Sweet," he murmured. "But why is there so much pain?"
Maya's breath caught. "What did you just say?"
He didn't answer.
—
Inside Noor's Vision
Noor was chained in heavy metal.Chains rattling and heavy clutching to her like second skin.
Noor was dragged, feet scraping against black stone.
The shadows whispered.
"You know how this ends."
She didn't struggle. The chains cut into her wrists, her ankles. Her breath was shallow, her ribs screaming. The air smelled of burnt flesh—hers.
The figure in the darkness loomed, faceless, towering.
"Do you think if you smile long enough, the pain will stop?"
Noor lifted her chin, lips curling into a bloodied smile.
"You… came."
The blade buried into her stomach.
She gasped—but not in fear.
In relief.
The pain was sharp, cruel, familiar. Her blood dripped, warm against the cold stone. She crumpled, body folding around the steel impaling her.
Her mouth moved. Words Unheard.
The figure leaned in.
"Louder."
Noor smiled wider, blood staining her teeth.
The blade twisted.
Pain ignited, pure, burning white. Her body convulsed, her breath shattered. And yet—
She whispered again.
The figure sighed. Almost… amused.
"Again."
Darkness swallowed her.
—
Janir exhaled slowly, watching the faint tremor in Noor's fingers.
Maya noticed. "What's going on?"
Janir's jaw tensed. " She's fighting it."
Maya's heart pounded. "what?"
No answer.
A sharp knock at the door. Zeyla entered, her usual sarcasm absent. She looked at Noor, then at Janir. "I'm leaving."
Maya turned, shocked. "What? Leaving? Now?"
Janir's tone was final. "Go back to the estate."
Zeyla didn't argue. Just nodded and left.
Maya turned to Janir, shaking. "Why are you sending her away? What the hell is happening?"
Janir stood, eyes still locked on Noor. "We need to be here when she wakes up."
Maya's blood ran cold. "And if she doesn't?"
Janir finally looked at her. His expression was unreadable.
"There is no if,she has to."
—
Inside the vision
A temple. Silent. Smelling of incense and old prayers.
Noor knelt. Bound. Broken. Bleeding.
The blade rested against her throat, cold against fevered skin.
"Your body remembers, doesn't it?"
Her breath trembled. The cut would come before the blade moved. The pain would come before the blood.
"Tell me—how many times has it been?"
Noor's lips parted. The words—always the same.
The blade flashed.
Her vision went red.
She smiled.
"Again."
Zeyla had barely stepped into the terminal when she heard hurried footsteps behind her.
"Zeyla!"
She turned to see Yilan rushing toward her, face streaked with tears.
"What's going on?" Zeyla asked, concern sharpening her voice.
"No time," Yilan said, grabbing Zeyla's wrist.
"Come with me."
"Wait—"
But Yilan was already pulling her toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with frantic urgency. Zeyla followed, her mind racing.
Moments later, they reached Yilan's car.
Yilan fumbled with her keys, hands shaking.
"Yilan," Zeyla pressed, "what happened?"
Yilan's breath hitched as she unlocked the door.
"I don't know," she said, voice tight. "But I hope we're not too late."
Yilan said nothing during the drive. Zeyla didn't ask.
The sun dipped low as they reached Sanlang's building. Yilan parked, and they hurried inside.
Upstairs, the penthouse door stood ajar. Inside, Sanlang lay motionless on the bed, doctors working quietly around him.
Zeyla's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"
Yilan swallowed hard. "I don't know. We were talking the other night… then he just... collapsed. Hasn't woken up since. Three days now."
"The doctors?"
"They don't know either."
Zeyla stepped forward, eyeing the scattered medical equipment. Blood pressure steady. Heart strong. Nothing to explain why a man like Sanlang would suddenly fall.
"Three days…" Zeyla murmured. Her gaze sharpened.
"Same as her."
Yilan clutched Zeyla's arm. "Please… bring Noor back. Only she can pull him out of this."
The moment Noor's name left her lips, the monitor screamed.
Sanlang's body jerked — veins darkened, snaking up his arms like black ink. Sweat beaded on his skin, his breathing ragged and shallow.
"Sanlang!" Yilan bolted to his side, voice breaking. "What's happening?"
The doctors scrambled, shouting orders, fumbling with equipment. No one had answers.
Zeyla didn't move.
"Only Noor…" Yilan's words echoed in her head.
Zeyla's eyes stayed fixed on Sanlang — but her mind was elsewhere.
Noor stirred — just barely. Her skin flushed deep red, veins darkening beneath the surface. Black lines curled across her face, her neck, her hands — like ink seeping through paper.
Maya staggered back, voice breaking. "Janir... we have to get her to a hospital."
"No."
Maya turned sharply. "No?"
"If that's what she needed," Janir said quietly, "it'd already be too late."
Maya's breath caught. "What are you talking about?"
Janir's gaze stayed on Noor. "If this poison was meant to kill her... it wouldn't be waiting."
"Then what's happening to her?"
Janir's fingers brushed the edge of the table. "The poison that brat gave her. He didn't give time to hope." His voice dropped lower. "This isn't the poison's work...."
Maya swallowed hard. "You knew."
"I knew enough," Janir murmured. "I was sent for the antidote — But she was never supposed to."
Maya's phone buzzed. She stared at it, torn.
"I have to go." Her voice was brittle. "Stay with her."
She left.
Janir leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on Noor. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, fragile breaths.
Her lips parted. A whisper of air slipped out — thin, cold as winter's breath.
Janir closed his eyes. His fingers found her wrist — ice against his skin.
"Why must you to choose to suffer" he muttered. "You knew better than this..."
Zeyla arrived at the orphanage just before dusk. The moment she stepped inside, small feet pattered against the floor, and the children swarmed her. The children found Zeyla before she'd even reached the front door.
"Where's Mother Noor?" a small voice asked, wide eyes staring up at her.
"She promised to read me a story," another chimed in.
"Did she forget about us?"
Zeyla knelt, pulling them close. "Of course not." Her voice was softer than she meant.
"She misses you — just like you miss her.
But right now... she has something important to take care of."
"But when will she come back?"
Zeyla swallowed hard. "I don't know."
"We should pray," one of the older boys said. "God will bring her home."
"Yeah!" The others nodded, clasping their hands together.
Zeyla couldn't help but smile. "I think that's a wonderful idea."
They knelt in a circle — small hands clutching one another, voices whispering soft, hopeful prayers. Zeyla bowed her head with them. Please... let it be enough.
Dinner followed — warm food, light laughter. For a while, it felt normal again.
When the children were tucked into bed, Zeyla lingered in the quiet. She felt it then — the weight of everything she wasn't saying.
Zeyla wandered into Noor's room. The scent of jasmine lingered, faint but familiar.
The room was — too quiet.
Then, in the silver spill of moonlight, something shifted.
A figure stood near the window — still, watching.
Zeyla's breath caught.
"Who's there?"
Noor's breath ghosted out in shallow, icy whispers. Her skin had turned to cold stone, her veins dark and thin like cracks in porcelain. The silver in her hair gleamed beneath the moonlight — faint, fragile, like the last glint of a dying star.
And still... she smiled.
Janir knelt beside her, staring as if she were some terrible miracle — beautiful and broken, slipping through his fingers.
"You think this is escape..." His voice was thin, hollow. "You think you've finally outrun everything."
His hand hovered above hers — cold radiating from her skin — yet he let his fingers curl around hers, locking tight.
"You're wrong."
His thumb traced the bones of her fingers — pale, stiff — like he was memorizing something he already knew too well.
"I know what you're doing..." His voice cracked. "You're slipping ... and yet you're smiling because you think no one will follow."
He let out a sharp, hollow laugh — no humor in it. "You never understood, did you?" His grip tightened. "I don't follow because I'm noble, or kind, or good." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "But because I can't help myself."
His eyes locked on her face — on that faint, smile.
"You could burn this world to ash..." His voice trembled. "And I'd crawl through the cinders just to find you."
His breath hitched.
His fingers dragged up her arm, pressing against her frozen skin. "You could lock yourself away in whatever hell you've chosen..." His voice broke now — low, uneven. "And I'd tear down the walls just to sit beside you in the dark."
He swallowed hard, his face close to hers now.
His voice dropped to a whisper — quiet, but sharp enough to cut. ".. if you vanish... if you let go..."
His fingers gripped her like a lifeline — or maybe like a chain.
"I will drag you back by your bones if I have to.You cannot leave me mother"
His forehead pressed to hers, his breath unsteady. "So smile all you want..." His voice shivered with something between a plea and a promise. "But if you fall... you fall with me."
"I beg of you, please come back."