Chapter 114 : Please, stay loyal.

The night had indeed been cruel, but oh, the sweet cruelty! Ava's body throbbed, a symphony of bruised muscles and tingling nerve endings, each a testament to the storm that had just swept through her. Yet, within this ache bloomed a strange, intoxicating pleasure, the afterglow of a volcano long since tamed.

Ibrahim lay beside her, the scent of his skin a warm whisper against her cheek. His hand drew her closer. "So, my baby girl. Share your experiences." 

"Experience?" Ava asked with a shy smile, "You ruined me." It wasn't an accusation, nor a plea for mercy. It was a truth told with a touch of awe, a confession of the sweet havoc he had wrought upon her soul. 

"Not just ruined, my love," he countered, his voice dipping into a delicious growl. "I want to ruin you in a way you'll beg for more not mercy, a slow burn that leaves you breathless and wanting."

Ava eyes, still drowsy with the remnants of dreams, met his. "More?" she breathed, a question laced with disbelief. "You used five, no, six protection tonight. Normal people don't last that long."

He laughed again, the sound warm and inviting. "Normal people, Ava? That's a word absent from my vocabulary" he said, his eyes holding a playful glint, " Normal people are not blessed with a goddess like you, nor do they possess the insatiable hunger I have for your every sigh, your every shiver."

A warmth, soft and sweet, bloomed in Ava's chest. He wasn't just a lover, not just a husband. He was an addiction, a habit she craved like the sun craves the moon. Without him, the world would spin on a tilted axis. 

"I want to say something," she declared. 

"Say it," he encouraged, his hand roaming gently over her curves, "I'll stay awake to hear every word falls from your lips." 

She took a deep breath. "I love you, Ibrahim. I do. Sometimes I think I can't breathe without you, as if you've become the very air I inhale. Love is strange thing for me. But without you, I feel like a moon without its sun, a melody without its harmony. You're not just a lover or a husband, you're…" she paused, searching for the right words, "you're the rhythm of my heart, the habit I crave, the addiction I don't want to cure. Sometimes, when you're not near, the world seems to fade, and I'm left adrift in a sea of loneliness."

Ibrahim's hand on her bare waist tightened, his thumb tracing a circle on her skin, a silent echo of the emotions swirling within him.

"Days, Ava," he whispered, "Countless days I waited for this, for you to finally admit what your heart has known all along. I love you, my heart's symphony."

He cupped her face, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had escaped the corner of her eye. "I love you, Ava," he repeated, "I love you more than words can say."

Ava reached out, tracing the outline of his jaw. "Just... just promise me, Ibrahim. You will never betray me. I can handle anything, but not that. I can't handle untruth. Please, stay loyal, stay with me. I will follow you into any fire, knowing I am safe in the warmth of your light."

Ibrahim's smile was a bittersweet ache. He didn't speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He pulled her close, enveloping her in the warmth of his embrace, his head resting against hers. "Sleep now, my love," he murmured, "It's almost sunrise." 

Minutes bled into hours, and Ava, lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat, drifted back into sleep. Ibrahim, however, remained awake, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, a battle raging within him. He took a deep breath, staring at the trembling hand that had taken countless lives without flinching. Today, it trembled, holding the weight of a lie, a betrayal that gnawed at his conscience.

The clock on the wall chimed five at the morning, a cruel reminder of the storm about to break. Four hours.....after four hours the scholarship list would be uploaded. Four hours until Ava's dreams would shatter into a million glittering shards. The scholarship, her ticket to freedom, would be a cruel mirage, a phantom limb she could never reach.

Ibrahim knew the pain that awaited her. He, the man who swore to love her forever, was the architect of her heartbreak. Yes, the list would broke her but it was for her own good. Ibrahim couldn't let her leave, couldn't envision a life without the warmth of her body against his. She would stay with him, every day, every night live a captive princess. Ava, his beautiful, naïve Ava, was his to keep, and he would protect her even from herself.

The lie, a bitter pill coated in honeyed promises, sat heavy in his stomach. He would betray her, again and again, if need be, that even doubt would find no purchase in her heart. Her trust, was his to crush, his to set free.

Ava was a bird with wings of dreams, and he, the man who clipped them, would forever be her jailor. He loved her, fiercely, desperately, and that love was a chain that bound them both. No matter how much it pained him, no matter how many betrayals he orchestrated, her happiness, her safety would always trump his own peace. Ava was his obsession and Ibrahim, the moth forever drawn to her flame. 

....

Rafi Ahmed frantically searched for his sons alongside Yusuf and twin guards. They combed every nook and cranny of the school throughout the night. But there was no sign ....

The sterile hum of the fluorescent lights in the school's security room did little to ease the gnawing tension in Rafi Ahmed's gut. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the icy air conditioning that failed to penetrate the furnace of his anxiety. His eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with worry, were glued to the flickering image on the monitor – a gaping chunk of the footage from the night before was missing. 

"This is unacceptable!" Rafi slammed his fist on the plastic desk, sending a tremor through the room,"What in Allah's name is this? Why is this footage deleted? Where are my sons?"

The school staff, a young nervous woman, sitting on a stool before the monitor, stammered, "I... I don't know, sir. The system rebooted itself overnight, and... and the system malfunctioned, erased some footage..."

Rafi's nostrils flared. "Malfunctioned? Convenient, isn't it? Just when my sons disappear, the cameras decide to take a nap! Where are the recordings from after ten? Spit it out, woman!"

"Perhaps the police can help, sir," Yusuf suggested, "They have more resources..."

Rafi snorted, a harsh, humorless sound. "The police? Those bumbling buffoons? They wouldn't be able to find their own noses in a mirror. They're as useless. They'll file a report, drag their feet, and by the time they blink, my boys ....Aaarrrggghhhhh!"

Yusuf feigned concern. "But sir, time is of the essence. It's six in the morning. The longer we wait..."

"Wait?" Rafi thundered, "Do you think I'm waiting, Yusuf? My sons are out there, God knows where, in the hands of who knows what! And you talk about waiting? If you had arrived on time, as you were supposed to, Yusuf, this wouldn't have happened! You were entrusted with their safety, and you failed!"

Shame flushed Yusuf's face, but only for a fleeting moment. He knew his role well. Feigned innocence was his mask, his shield against any suspicion that might flicker towards him. Yusuf bowed his head, a picture of guilty, "I apologize, sir. I should have been more careful." 

Rafi left the school and came near his car which parked on the road, "Where could they go? Agghh! What will people say? Another scandal, another headline: 'Rafi Ahmed loses his sons'! 'Rafi Ahmed, the businessman, can't even keep his own sons safe.'"

The thought of it, the public derision, the whispers behind his back. He had fought tooth and nail for his sons, snatched them from Sophia's clutches. "Search everywhere, Yusuf! Every lane, every alley in this area. Turn this school upside down if you have to! I won't lose my sons!"

Yusuf nodded grimly. "Yes, sir. We'll search every inch with all our might."

And so, the frantic search began. Yusuf, along with the guards, fanned out into the pre-dawn streets.

...

The hot water cascaded down, a soothing balm on Ava's aching muscles. The echoes of last night's passionate storm still rippled through her, leaving a pleasant soreness in its wake. Emerging from the steamy sanctuary, wrapped in a white cotton bathrobe, she felt renewed, almost reborn. 

The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, announcing the hour as 8:50 AM. Stepping out of the bathroom, Ava found Ibrahim engrossed in changing the bedsheet. Ava's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his lean form, the way the morning light sculpted his muscles. Oh! Why this man was so handsome ? The old ones, stained crimson with the remnants of Ava's virginity, lay discarded on the floor. He was struggling with the bedsheet, his brow furrowed in concentration as he wrestled with the tangled fabric.

 Ava couldn't help but smile. "I can do that, Ibrahim. You don't have to trouble yourself."

Ibrahim's head snapped up, his gaze meeting hers, "No need. This, I do myself. I won't have my baby girl touch such tasks."

"But you hate chores," she teased. 

Ibrahim chuckled, "Indeed I do. But This is different. This crimson mark belongs only to me. No servant's eyes will ever desecrate what I have claimed."

Ava felt her cheeks flush, a blush as vibrant as the stain on the sheets. "God, Ibrahim, you have no filter, do you? Can't you go five minutes without saying something that makes my heart race?"

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "No shame in talking to my wife like that, is there?"

Ava shook her head in disbelief, "My phone's dead. Can I borrow yours for a second? The list gets uploaded in five minutes."

Ibrahim's smile vanished in a second. An invisible hand squeezed Ibrahim's heart, the warmth of the sheets suddenly feeling like a shroud of ice. The moment he had dreaded, the storm he had conjured, was upon them. He pointed towards the table where his phone lay, a black monolith holding her fate, "There."

Ava took the phone, her steps light as she moved towards the window. Beyond the glass, the turquoise expanse of the swimming pool shimmered in the morning sun. "Wow, Ibrahim! I didn't know you had a pool here!" she exclaimed, a genuine surprise with a childlike wonder that momentarily banished the anxiety gnawing at her.

Ibrahim nodded, his throat tightening. "Yes."

Leaning against the wall, she logged into the university website, her fingers trembling slightly.

Ibrahim watched her, his own breath hitching in his throat. He could see the smile fading, slowly, inexorably, like a flower wilting under the midday sun. Each tick of the clock echoed in his head, a drumbeat of impending doom. He sat on the edge of the bed. The time was cruel. But who made it so cruel? 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The seconds crawled by, each one a tiny eternity. He could see the way her eyes scanned the list, searching for her name, the hope in them fading with each downward scroll. 

And then, the silence. A hollow silence. Ava's brow furrowed, her eyes searching the list again, as if willing her name to magically appear. 

Ibrahim gulped. The air in the room felt so suffocating. And every second that passed, the knot in his stomach tightened. His right hand again trembled so slightly. Today, the great Ibrahim Rahman, the man who stared death in the face without flinching, was a prisoner of his own creation. His own guilt coiled into a viper in his gut. 

The moment of truth arrived with a cruel finality. Her name was nowhere to be seen. Ava refreshed again and again, a desperate plea for a glitch, a miracle. But the result remained the same: her name, a cruel absence amidst a sea of others.

Ibrahim watched her as Ava slowly came towards him with disappoint steps. She handed him the phone, her eyes red-rimmed, threatening to spill over with tears, "I didn't get it again." 

He took the phone from her, his fingers brushing against hers. He yearned to offer words of comfort, he wanted to lie, to weave another tapestry of false promises, but the words refused to take flight.

"I think I'll go see the pool," Ava said, her gaze seeking solace in the cool expanse beyond the glass.

Ibrahim understood. Escape, however temporary, was the only solace she could find in this moment of despair. He watched as she moved the long curtains, revealing the glass door that led to the swimming pool. Then she stepped out. 

Ibrahim ran a hand through his hair, frustration and self-loathing warring within him. How could he face her? How could he bear the sight of her brokenness, a direct consequence of his own karma?