I woke up late.
For the first time in my life, the adhan didn't pull me from sleep.
Sunlight was already sharp and high, slicing through the half-open curtains. My phone lay face-down and silent—no fajr alarm, no reminder, nothing. The sheets clung to my skin, still warm with the scent of him, of us, of last night. My thighs ached in a soft, unfamiliar way. My nipples felt tender against the cotton. My lips were still faintly swollen.
I sat up. The room tilted for a second.
Guilt arrived like ice water poured down my spine.
Astaghfirullah.
I had missed Fajr.
Missed Dhuhr already.
Missed everything.
A small folded note rested on the pillow beside me. His handwriting—sharp, controlled, but the letters softer than usual.
Aafreen,
Sleep as long as you need today.
VC prep is handled.
Rest. You earned it.
Love,
Lucifer
Love Lucifer.
My thumb brushed over the word Love.
He had written it.
He had let me sleep through prayer because of what we did—because of how completely I had drowned in him last night.
Shame burned behind my eyes.
Ya Allah… how did I let it go this far?
I dragged myself to the bathroom. The mirror showed someone I barely recognized: hair wild and sex-tangled, faint finger-bruises along my hips, a love-bite above my collarbone that the dress would barely hide. The choker was gone—snapped yesterday, lying somewhere on the hotel floor like a broken vow.
I stood under the shower for a long time. Hot water hit my skin like accusation.
I tried to pray—whispering surahs under the spray. But every time I closed my eyes he was there:
his hands running over my skin,
his fingers curling inside me until I sobbed,
his groan when I swallowed him whole,
the way he tugged my hair and called my name like it was sacred.
My core clenched at the memory.
Fresh heat bloomed between my thighs even as I whispered istighfar over and over.
Was this love?
Or did I just fall?
I dressed slowly. A simple cream sundress—modest enough, but the neckline dipped low enough to show the mark he left. No hijab. Hair loose. I looked… soft. Claimed. His.
I ordered room service. Ate alone on the balcony. Watched Miami shimmer below.
The whole day stretched empty and strangely calm.
I wasn't lonely.
I was full of him.
Every quiet moment brought another flash:
his choked sound when he came in my hand,
the way he fisted my hair and whispered my name like dua,
his relentless fingers shattering me again and again and again.
I pressed my thighs together under the table.
Tried to read.
Couldn't.
By early afternoon my phone buzzed.
Lucifer.
I'll be late tonight.
Visiting the ex-family.
Sorry.
My breath caught.
He was telling me.
He didn't need to but he did.
He could've just cancelled on me like my old friends did.
He didn't, and it made me felt valuable.
I typed back quickly.
I understand.
Take the time you need.
I'll be here when you're ready.
Three dots. Then:
Thank you.
I'll make it up to you later.
I stared at the screen till it went dark.
After everything she threw at him yesterday.
He was going back to that person.
I watched him take it in silence.
My chest ached.
I wanted to be there.
Wanted to stand between him and her stabs.
But it wasn't my place to be.
Astaghfirullah.
I closed my eyes.
Tried to pray again.
The words tasted like ash.
***
A message arrived mid-afternoon.
From Lila—one of Marcus's associates.
Hey Aafreen! Small girls' gathering at La Merced tonight. Just food, drinks, gossip. Come? 🩷
I thought about it for a while.
I should say no.
Stay in the room.
Wait for him.
At least repent for what I have been doing.
But the silence was suddenly too heavy the longer I waited.
I typed back.
Okay. I'll come.
I chose the most "party-like" thing I owned: a deep-plum silk dress that clung to my curves without screaming immodest. Neckline low enough to show the faint love-bite. Padded bra—So my nipples wouldn't be visible if the light caught me. Hair loose, kohl smudged around my eyes, rose balm on my lips, and a little bit of blush/
I looked more beautiful than I meant to.
The restaurant was warm, low-lit, laughter already spilling from a corner table.
The girls cheered when I walked in.
"You look dangerous," Lila said, hugging me tight.
Sara whistled. "Lucifer's PA who?"
I blushed.
Sat down.
Ordered sparkling grape juice while they drank cocktails.
Conversation flowed—where everyone was from, favorite foods, bad dates, salon disasters, boys, sports.
I laughed and learned about them more than I expected.
After plates of shared tapas and too many mocktails, someone said, "Let's walk to the beach. Burn off the calories."
We paid.
I used the company card— Hardpound's Amex.
The girls drifted toward the thrift shop next door to "find cute cover-ups for the beach" and asked me to follow.
I stayed behind to settle the bill.
That's when I saw them.
Through the frosted partition glass.
Lucifer.
At a small table.
Across from Rhea.
And the other women was Janice—his ex-wife.
They were tearing into him.
Quiet. Vicious. Relentless.
Rhea's voice cut first.
"Why did you show up so suddenly? You were never here. Never."
Janice leaned in.
"Always the martyr. Poor you. Left us for your precious army. Left me no choice but to find comfort elsewhere."
"Because of you we had no one?"
Lucifer sat still.
Head slightly bowed.
He was enduring it all.
"I'm sorry I was not present for the family. I do regret not being here."
My stomach turned.
Rhea's voice rose.
"My stepdad was more of a father than you ever were. He was there. Every day. Every game. Every birthday. You? You sent money, some letters and thought that was enough."
Janice laughed—cold, sharp.
"And now you are doing better? What have you done for Rhea and me ? You think you can play family man now?"
I couldn't breathe.
They kept going.
Rhea: "You are a selfish bastard."
Janice: "No Rhea, at least bastards know where they are from. He is no bastard."
Something inside me snapped.
I stormed around the partition.
"You don't talk to people like that."
The table froze.
Lucifer's head lifted.
Eyes wide.
Puzzled.
Then alarmed.
Janice's sneered.
"Who the hell are you?"
Rhea's lips curled.
"Oh. The assistant. You came to defend your boss?"
I stepped closer.
Voice shaking but steady.
"He's is a respectful man, you have been treating him like a punching bag."
Rhea rolled her eyes.
"So fucking cringe, Stay out of my family business."
Janice's face twisted.
"You think you know him? You're just a little kid. The shiny new toy that'll be disposed later."
They kept coming.
Insults.
Accusations.
Words sharpened to wound.
My eyes burned.
I was seconds from breaking—tears already rising—when Lucifer's voice cracked the air like thunder.
"Enough."
"I've taken every bullet you've shot at me for years. Because I thought I deserved it. Because I failed you both in ways I'd carry on forever."
His voice dropped—low, lethal.
"But I will not stand here and let you hurt the people dear to me."
The word landed like a bomb.
I was dear to him.
Rhea's mouth opened.
"You are fucking a girl younger than me ? You are disgusting."
Closed.
Janice's eyes blazed.
She grabbed her wine glass.
Threw it.
The wine arced through the air—splashed across my chest, my dress, my hair.
Red soaked through silk, cold and sticky against my breasts, dripping down my stomach like accusation.
Lucifer lunged but couldn't reach me in time.
The glass shattered on the floor.
I shouldn't have interfered.
I made everything worse.
I'm not even his to defend.
I was scared, I didn't think much before jumping in, and now I don't know what to do.
My started tearing up little by little as the wine was dripping from my hair.
But then he roared.
"I said ENOUGH!"
The single word silenced the room.
He stepped between us. And offered me his handkerchief and whispered "Hold on for a little longer."
Voice low.
Deadly.
"I've accepted the punishment you thought I earned. Because I failed as a husband. As a father. I know that. But I did not deserve them."
He looked straight at Janice.
"You were unfaithful long before I ever left for deployment."
Janice's eyes were bloodshot with anger "Shut up Luci-"
"You and my brother made sure of that. And you let me believe Rhea was mine. I stayed. I compromised. I tried to love a child that was never mine to begin with."
Rhea's face crumpled.
"What…?"
Lucifer turned to her.
"Maybe that's why I could have never love you the way you wanted."
Janice stood up—pure hate in her eyes. She was struggling with her argument.
"The only reason I stayed is to give you both a stable future. That was the biggest mistake I made."
Rhea stared between them, disbelief cracking into horror.
Janice mumbled to him "We agreed to never talk about this-"
"Do me a favor and tell my brother to pick up his own bill from now on. The same goes to you."
Lucifer's voice never rose again.
"I tried my best. I don't think I failed you both. But I'm done letting you punish me for it. And I'm done letting you punish me. Take it to court if you want."
"We're Done."
He reached for my hand.
"Let's go, Aafreen."
I took it.
We walked out.
The restaurant stayed silent behind us.
Outside, Miami night air hit my wet dress.
I shivered.
He pulled off his jacket.
Draped it over my shoulders.
We walked.
No destination.
Just walking.
Three blocks later he spoke.
"Thanks for having my back."
I nodded.
Small.
Voice thick.
"I'd love to talk to you more about my life. But… some other day."
I squeezed his hand.
"I understand.
Thank you for protecting me."
He looked down at me.
"That's my job."
We kept walking.
Streetlights.
Ocean breeze.
His hand warm around mine.
Neither of us spoke again.
Not tonight.
We didn't need to.