Chapter 116 : Tell your men to lower their weapons from my wife.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the sprawling expanse of the Muslim cemetery. Unlike the traditional earth mounds, this grave was a testament to love and loss, built with sturdy cement and adorned with a polished marble slab. Rows upon rows of headstones stretched out before Ava.

She sat perched on the edge of a grave. It wasn't just one grave, but two, seamlessly merged into one, a single grave, a testament to the unbreakable bond her parents shared. Engraved on the marble, in elegant script, were the names: Ethan Lim and Olivia Lim. Beloved Parents. Gone too Soon. 

Below the names, a single verse from the Quran was etched in elegant calligraphy: "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un (Verily we belong to Allah, and verily to Him we shall return)."

Thirteen years had passed since a cruel twist of fate had snatched them away, leaving Ava and her brother, Elara, adrift in a sea of grief. But time, though a healer, had not erased the ache in Ava's heart. The cemetery - a space where she could pour out her soul to the only ones who truly understood her unspoken words.

For close to three hours, Ava had poured her heart out to them. It was a monologue filled with updates on her life. She spoke of Elara, and his romance with Farah. She confided her frustrations about university and the scholarship that had slipped through her grasp. Her voice, sometimes filled with laughter, sometimes laced with tears, painted a vivid picture of her life for the parents who could no longer witness it firsthand.

And as a silent observer, Ibrahim stood behind her, absorbing every word. He came to know about Ava's close relationship with her parents even before their marriage while doing her background check, but today, he witnessed the depth of that bond in its raw, unfiltered for. 

He saw a daughter yearning for a connection that could never be rekindled, a void that no one, not even him, could ever truly fill.

Finally, clearing his throat, he asked, "Do you miss them a lot, Ava?"

Ava turned to him. Tucking a stray strand of her long black hair behind her ear, she whispered, "Yes, a lot. Sometimes I wish I could remember every single moment we spent together. But I was too little to remember everything." 

She patted the space beside her on the edge of the grave. "Sit here," she said softly. Ibrahim hesitated for a moment, unsure if he had the right to intrude on this sacred space. But seeing the longing in her eyes, he took a deep breath and sat down.

"They were the most amazing couple, you know," she said, a nostalgic smile gracing her lips. "My dad absolutely adored my mom a lot. They completed each other. They taught me the meaning of true love, the kind that endures through thick and thin, the kind that transcends even death. It was like they were two halves of the same soul, always in sync, always understanding each other." 

Ava took a deep breath, "Mom wasn't the best cook, you know. Elara and I used to tease her about it all the time, the burnt offerings. But dad.....he never complained, not once. He'd say, 'Olivia cooks the best food because it's made with love.' And you know what, it felt true, even the burnt dish tasted amazing because they were hers."

She didn't spoke further. Maybe she was lost in thoughts. Suddenly, a thought struck her. She had never introduced Ibrahim to her parents. Ava reached out, her hand outstretched towards him. "Give me your hand." 

Ibrahim placed his hand in hers, his large fingers engulfing hers in a warm, comforting hold. 

"Mama, Papa," she began, her words tumbling out like a river in flood, "This is Ibrahim, my husband." She paused, a slight hesitation in her voice. "Though our marriage wasn't… conventional, he's been good to me. I can honestly say that he has changed me in ways I never imagined. He takes care of me, listens to me, and today, I cried a lot because I didn't get the scholarship I wanted, but he was there, offering his shoulder for me to cry on. He didn't judge, he just listened."

Ava continued, "I know you wouldn't have approved of how we started, but I promise, I'm trying. I'm trying to be happy, and he makes it easier. Please, Mama, Papa, bless us. Watch over us, guide us, and keep us safe."

Ibrahim squeezed her hand in response, a silent apology lost in the twilight air. He had taken so much from her, her dreams, her choices, all in the name of a warped possession. Yet, here she stood, offering him love, a love he felt utterly undeserving of.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, rushing towards them with frantic urgency. It was Faisal, his face etched with worry. 

Ibrahim frowned, his mind instantly shifting gears. "Faisal?" he muttered.

Faisal nodded. He turned to Ava with a forced smile, "Ava, how are you doing?" 

Ava, oblivious to the tension, offered a small smile. "I'm alright, Faisal," she replied simply.

Faisal nodded again, then motioned for Ibrahim to step aside with him. They moved a few paces away, just enough for their conversation to be out of Ava's earshot.

"Ibrahim," Faisal began, his voice hushed and urgent, "Rafi got the parcel. He's sending men to attack…"

Ibrahim cut him off with a curt nod. "Don't worry, I've been expecting this." He had anticipated Rafi's reaction but the simmering rage boiling over him. He hadn't expected it to happen any drama here, in the presence of Ava. 

He returned to Ava, his face a mask of composure. "Let's go, baby girl," he said gently, the fading sunlight painting his features with a deceptive warmth. "It's getting late." He offered his hand to her. 

Ava looked up at him. He offered a reassuring smile, but she sensed a flicker of something hidden beneath it. Still, she nodded, trusting him implicitly.

"Alright," she agreed, taking his arm.

"There's something I need to handle," Ibrahim added, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic hesitation. "Go with Faisal, he'll take you home. I'll be back soon. okay?"

Ibrahim couldn't reveal the truth, not yet. Not with Ava's fragile emotions hanging in the balance. He couldn't risk another outburst, another tear-filled breakdown. He needed to protect her, even if it meant keeping her in the dark.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. Just as Ava rose to her feet, a sound ripped through the quietude of the cemetery, shattering the fragile peace. It was a name, loud and desperate, echoing through the air – "Ibrahim!"

All three turned their heads towards the cemetery entrance. Rafi Ahmed, his face contorted with fury, stormed towards them, flanked by two heavily armed guards. The glint of the setting sun on their guns sent shivers down Ava's spine. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her knees buckled, threatening to give way beneath her. 

Ibrahim cursed under his breath. Damn them! Couldn't they have waited until he was alone? 

"Faisal," he barked, his voice tight with urgency. "Take Ava and leave, now! It's not safe here."

However Ava stood rooted to the spot, her gaze darting between Ibrahim and the approaching figures, "No! I'm not leaving you here alone! Why is Rafi here with guns?"

"Don't be stubborn, Ava," Ibrahim echoed. 

Ignoring Ava's protests, Faisal stepped forward. He gently grasped the ruffled sleeve of her blouse – careful not to violate the sanctity of her personal space, "Please, Ava. Listen to Ibrahim. It's not safe. Let's go."

Ava shook off Faisal's gentle hold. "I said I won't go, and I won't." 

Rafi wasted no time in reaching Ibrahim. The gun in his hand, a cold, metallic monstrosity, gleamed menacingly in the fading light. He thrust it towards Ibrahim's head, his voice a guttural growl. "Where are Omer and Harith?" he demanded. 

The guards, mirroring their master's aggression, whipped their guns towards Ava and Faisal. The air crackled with tension, thick with the unspoken threat of violence.

And Faisal reacted instinctively. His hand darted into his pocket, emerging with a gun of his own. It was a smaller, sleeker weapon compared to the ones Rafi's men wielded. Faisal stepped forward, his body forming a shield between Ava and the armed men.

Ibrahim, his eyes narrowed to cold slits, met Rafi's gaze with an unwavering defiance. "I have a gun too," he said, his voice surprisingly calm despite the weapon pointed at his head. "Tell your men to lower their weapons from my wife, Rafi. Otherwise, the consequences won't be pleasant."