Days turned into weeks.
Ayesha remained trapped in Rayan's world.
She hated him.
Then tolerated him.
Then slowly began noticing impossible things.
He never let anyone speak disrespectfully to her.
He made the chef cook food without chili because he noticed she always pushed spicy food aside.
He had panic attacks at night but hid them behind locked doors.
He visited orphanages in secret.
He never touched alcohol.
And despite all his darkness…
He had never once touched her without permission.
One evening, during a power outage, they sat on the balcony under candlelight.
For the first time, he looked… human.
"Why me?" she whispered.
Rayan's gaze met hers.
"Because ten years ago," he said softly, "you gave a homeless boy your lunch outside your school gate."
She frowned.
"I was twelve. You were twelve. You didn't know my name. You didn't know I'd been beaten that morning. You just handed me your food and said…"
He smiled faintly.
"No one should look that hungry."
Ayesha's breath caught.
"That was you?"
He nodded.
"Since that day, I never forgot your face."
And that was the moment she fell.
Not for the mafia king.
But for the broken boy he used to be.