Chapter 72 : Humiliation

The shared apartment was filled with the aroma of evening snacks as Farah, Noor, Mahi, and Zeba gathered on the dining floor. The cozy setting had them lounging with plates of snacks, creating a casual yet lively atmosphere.

Farah and Mahi were fully engrossed in the drama playing on the TV, eyes fixed on the screen as the plot thickened. On the other side of the dining area, Zeba and Noor seemed eager for a change of content.

"Come on, guys! The crime series I've been talking about is so thrilling. You won't believe the suspense!" Zeba suggested. 

Noor, backing Zeba, added with enthusiasm, "Seriously! It's like a rollercoaster of mysteries and unexpected twists. You're missing out."

But Farah was not ready to part with her drama, "Wait, wait! This drama is reaching its peak. The suspense is killing me. We can watch your crime series later."

"Yeah, let's not change it now. The drama has been building up, and I need to know what happens next." Mahi chimed in. 

Zeba, with a playful eye-roll, insisted, "Come on, drama queens! The crime series has everything – suspense, drama, and a bit of action."

Noor teased, "And your drama is just becoming predictable. Trust me, this crime series is a game-changer."

Farah retorted, "Predictable? You haven't seen the latest episodes. They're full of surprises."

"Let's compromise. We can finish this drama, and then we'll watch the crime series. How about that?" Mahi suggested.

Zeba agreed, "Fine, but if this drama disappoints, we're switching to the crime series, deal?"

"Deal. But I guarantee you won't be disappointed." Mahi told.

In the midst of their friendly banter and TV watching, Zeba's phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. She picked up her phone, curious about the unexpected notification. To her shock, it was a video – a video of her showering in her own bathroom.

The color drained from her face, and she quickly excused herself from the TV session, not uttering a word to the others. In the privacy of her room, Zeba nervously examined the video on her phone. It was undeniably their shared apartment. 

But who could invade her privacy like this?Her innocence, her sanctuary, now weaponized against her. As the video reached its painful end, another intrusion erupted – a buzzing phone, a call from the perpetrator himself from the same number. With trembling hands, Zeba answered the call, and a familiar voice greeted her with a sinister tone, "Surprised, Zeba?"

Her heart sank as she recognized the voice – Prof. Syed, her university professor and someone she admired, someone she had considered an ideal figure.

Unable to withstand the revelation, Zeba collapsed onto the floor with a thud. Prof. Syed, a man she had respected, now held her privacy hostage.

Zeba, struggling to find her voice, managed to ask, "Why are you doing this, Professor? What do you want from me?"

Prof. Syed chuckled darkly, "Ah, Zeba, it's not about what I want; it's about what you can do to protect your precious reputation." 

Zeba asked with a trembling voice, "What I need to do?" 

He laid out his demands, "Be at Gardenia Hotel. Room 203. Come alone, or else this video will find its way to the darkest corners of the internet. You wouldn't want your reputation tarnished, would you?"

Zeba pleaded, "Please, Professor, don't do this. Don't leak that video anywhere. I can't do what you're asking. It's not fair, it's not right."

Prof. Syed's response was a venomous hiss, "Fairness is a myth, Zeba. Life is a game, and you either play it or become a pawn. Your choice."

Zeba, tears streaming down her face, begged, "Please, Professor, there has to be another way. I'll do anything else, just don't ruin my life."

Prof. Syed, taunted, "Anything else? How adorable. You see, Zeba, power is intoxicating. I'm merely enjoying the taste of it."

Zeba whispered, "You were my mentor, Professor. Why are you doing this? You're ruining lives."

"Ruining lives? Oh, my sweet Zeba, life is just a series of compromises. And sometimes, you have to sacrifice a few for personal gain." Prof. Syed replied.

"What do you gain from ruining me?" Zeba asked. 

His words dripped with malice, "Control, dominance, the thrill of watching someone crumble under the weight of their own secrets. It's a beautiful symphony. An hour, Zeba. Make your decision wisely."

The call ended and Zeba sat in disbelief.

...

( ONE HOUR LATER )

In the dimly lit hotel room, Zeba's anxious footsteps echoed as she entered, the door closing behind her with a muffled click. The air hung heavy with tension, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the walls. Prof. Syed, seated casually on a creaking rocking chair, awaited her arrival with a malevolent smile playing on his lips.

Zeba approached to him and her eyes darted nervously between Prof. Syed and the unfamiliar surroundings. 

"Ah, Zeba," Prof. Syed greeted with a sinister grin, "always punctual. Kneel before me."

Reluctantly, Zeba descended to her knees, the cold hotel floor adding to the discomfort she already felt. Her eyes pleaded with Prof. Syed, desperate for mercy. "Please, Prof. Syed, don't do this. I'll do anything else."

Prof. Syed's chuckle cut through the heavy air, "Anything else won't suffice, my dear. Now, let's make this interesting."

He took his phone, the device that held the damning video. Zeba's breath caught as Prof. Syed showed her the screen.

 "You see, Zeba," he gloated, "I hold the power now. One click, and this goes public."

Tears welled up in Zeba's eyes, her desperation growing with each passing moment. "Please, there has to be another way. I can't do this."

"Take off your clothes, Zeba. It's the only way to salvage what's left of your reputation." He issued a cold command.

Zeba's hands trembled, "No, please, I beg you."

Prof. Syed's gaze turned predatory, his tone ominous. "One click, Zeba. Don't make me do it."

Zeba, her hands shaking, began the agonizing process of undressing. Her hands trembled as she began unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers fumbled with each button, tears blurring her vision. The fabric slid off her shoulders, exposing the weakness she wished to hide. Her breaths quivered with a mixture of fear and shame. 

Prof. Syed perched on the rocking chair, observed the scene with a sinister satisfaction. His eyes followed every movement, every quiver of Zeba's form, reveling in the power he wielded over her. His lips curled into a malevolent grin as he witnessed her unraveling before him. He reveled in the power he held over her, the control that danced within his grasp like a marionette's strings.

Zeba's silent sobs played like a haunting melody. The undressing became a twisted performance orchestrated by Prof. Syed. He watched with a twisted delight as Zeba, once full of pride, crumbled under the weight of his influence. 

The room echoed with the soft sound of her sobbing as she unzipped her skirt. The fabric pooled around her knees, leaving her feeling exposed and defenseless. Each piece of clothing she shed felt like a piece of her dignity being stripped away.

She stood in only her undergarments and she tried desperately to cover herself, arms crossed in a futile attempt to shield her vulnerability. Whispers of protest escaped her lips as she tremulously muttered, "I can't do it, I can't do."

Prof. Syed, fueled by anger at her resistance, abruptly rose from his chair. In a heartless display of dominance, he seized Zeba by the neck, forcing her to stand. The sudden restriction left her gasping for breath, her eyes reflecting both fear and a silent plea for mercy.

 "If you can't, then I will." He asserted.

...

Under the serene embrace of a rainy night in Malacca, the city wore a glistening charm. The rain had ceased, leaving a refreshing afterglow in the air. The raindrops painted the streets with a sheen and reflected the glow of streetlights that adorned the winding roads. The car was going through the wet streets with a soothing hum.

Ibrahim almost showed the half of city to Ava. The long drive served as a therapeutic distraction for Ava, helping her temporarily escape the complex thoughts that lingered in her mind.

Inside the car, the air was silent. No one was talking. Ava looked at Ibrahim. She internally asked, if he was tired. But he seemed unfazed despite hours behind the wheel. They should take a break. 

"Is there any beach nearby? The rain has stopped," she asked. 

"Beach? Now?" Ibrahim checked his watch, "It's 10, Baby Girl." 

"Let's go, Ibrahim. I want to see the ocean at night." Ava insisted.

Ibrahim couldn't resist her request. "How can I not agree when my wife is asking with such a cute voice?" 

"Stop flirting. So, which beach are we going to?" Ava replied.

Ibrahim chuckled, "Well, my dear, we're heading to Pantai Klebang. It's not too far from here."