The next morning, Zoha woke up in a hospital chair—her hand still wrapped tightly around Ezra's.
Zafar had fallen asleep beside her, his head resting near her shoulder.
It was quiet. Peaceful. Safe.
For the first time, they looked like a family.
She smiled softly and brushed Ezra's hair back.
He opened his eyes slowly and gave a sleepy smile.
"Zo-Zo…"
Her heart swelled. "Good morning, little one."
Zafar stirred awake, lifting his head. The moment his eyes met Zoha's, there was no distance, no awkwardness.
Only understanding.
"I'm sorry I took so long," he whispered.
Zoha shook her head gently. "You're here now."
And that was enough.
Two weeks passed.
Zafar changed.
He no longer loved her in secret.
He held her hand in front of others.
He kissed her forehead when she brought him coffee.
He invited her to have dinner with him and Ezra after work.
They laughed more. Talked more.
And Zafar? He smiled more.
Even the staff noticed.
"Mr. Iqbal has a heart?" the guards joked.
"Yes," Zoha replied with a grin. "And he's learning how to use it."
But every moment of happiness was being watched.
By Meher.
Her eyes, her spies, her bitterness.
The more she saw Zafar open up to Zoha, the more her rage boiled.
She wasn't just jealous—she was obsessed.
"Do you really think she loves you?" she said in Zafar's office one evening, barging in unannounced.
Zafar didn't even look up. "Meher. Get out."
She laughed coldly. "She's using your pain. Your loneliness. You're too blind to see it."
Zafar stood up, his voice deadly calm.
"Don't mistake my silence for tolerance."
"She's beneath you."
"She's everything you're not," he snapped.
The words cut deep.
But Meher wasn't done yet.
She leaned closer, eyes glinting.
"Then I hope you're ready to watch her break."
That night, Zoha returned home to find her apartment door unlocked.
She froze.
Heart pounding.
The lights were off. The air was heavy.
She stepped in slowly, hand on her phone.
The living room was torn apart.
Drawers open. Papers scattered. Glass shattered.
On the table, a single note written in lipstick:
"You're not welcome in his world. Leave while you still can."
Her hands trembled.
But her eyes?
Furious.
Later, at Zafar's mansion, she sat across from him, showing him the note.
He read it slowly.
Then looked up at her with eyes darker than ever.
"I'll handle this," he growled.
"No." Zoha stood. "We will handle this."
Zafar blinked.
"I'm not your weakness," she said. "I'm your partner. If we're going to be in this… we fight together."
For the first time in his life, Zafar Iqbal didn't have to protect someone alone.
And that changed everything.