The night was quiet, the air crisp with the lingering remnants of the festival's final celebrations. Shumaila stood near one of the empty corridors of the university, staring down at her phone. The message had come from an unknown number.
"If you want to know the truth about Hamza, meet me near the old library. Alone."
Her fingers hovered over the screen. She wasn't stupid. The phrasing alone made it obvious that someone was trying to manipulate her. But her gut told her exactly who was behind this. Karan.
Still, curiosity gnawed at her. She wanted to know what exactly he thought he had against Hamza.
Letting out a deep sigh, she turned on her heels and made her way toward the location. Unbeknownst to her, Hamza had seen her walking away alone. Something about her posture, the way she walked with purpose, made unease settle in his chest. Without a second thought, he followed, keeping a fair distance behind her, his jaw tightening as his suspicions grew.
When Shumaila arrived at the dimly lit area near the old library, Karan was already there, leaning against the wall with a smug expression. Beside him stood another guy—one of his lackeys—most likely the one who had texted her.
"I knew you'd come," Karan smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"I'm here to listen, not to play your stupid games," Shumaila said flatly. "So, talk."
Karan chuckled, shaking his head. "Straight to the point. I like that about you." His eyes darkened. "But you know what I don't like? Wasting my time."
"Then don't," she snapped, arms crossed. "Tell me whatever bullshit you planned, so I can leave."
He sighed dramatically, stepping closer. "Shumaila, I'm trying to help you."
She scoffed. "Help me? By messaging me out to come here like some coward instead of saying things in front of everyone?"
Karan clicked his tongue. "You really think Hamza is good for you? That he's not going to hurt you eventually?"
Shumaila exhaled sharply. "I don't have time for this." She turned on her heels to leave, but Karan grabbed her wrist.
"Don't walk away from me," he growled. "You should be with someone who actually deserves you."
Shumaila's patience snapped. With swift precision, she twisted her wrist free and kicked Karan in the stomach, making him stumble back.
Karan groaned, doubling over. His lackey took a step forward, but one sharp glare from Shumaila had him stepping back in hesitation.
"You're pathetic," she spat. "You think you can make me doubt Hamza? You think I'd be dumb enough to listen to the garbage you spew?" She took a step closer, voice dropping. "Hamza has proven himself time and time again. And I—" she paused, glancing up at him.
Her voice softened, but the conviction remained strong. "I like him. And not just a little."
Karan's lips curled in disgust as he straightened himself. "Why can't it be me?!" he seethed, stepping toward her again. "Why him?!"
He grabbed her wrist again, this time tightly.
Before Shumaila could push him off again, a strong force yanked Karan away.
A sharp punch landed on Karan's face, sending him stumbling back, gripping his jaw.
Hamza stood there, eyes burning with fury, his breathing heavy.
Karan wiped his bleeding lip, chuckling. "Oh, look who finally decided to show up."
Hamza ignored him completely, turning to Shumaila immediately, scanning her for injuries. His jaw clenched when his gaze landed on the redness around her wrist where Karan had grabbed her.
Shumaila saw the way his hands curled into fists, his body tensing with barely restrained rage. Quickly, she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "It's fine. I'm fine," she reassured, but Hamza wasn't hearing it.
With slow, deliberate steps, he strolled toward Karan, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him close.
Karan's usual smug expression faltered for the first time when he saw the darkness in Hamza's eyes.
"Listen very carefully," Hamza said, his voice low and lethal. "You don't touch my woman again. Ever."
Shumaila's eyes widened slightly at the possessiveness in his tone, her heartbeat stuttering.
Karan tried to scoff, but Hamza tightened his grip, making him wince.
"Try this shit again, and I'll make sure you regret it."
With that, Hamza landed one final, brutal punch, knocking Karan to the ground.
Karan groaned, gripping his face. "F-Fine! I-I'm done! I won't mess with you two anymore!" he spat before scrambling to his feet and running off like a coward. Followed by his lackey.
Hamza exhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders before turning back to Shumaila. She was staring at him, expression unreadable.
"What?" he asked, arching a brow.
She tilted her head. "Your woman?"
Hamza smirked, stepping closer. "That's what you took from all this?"
Shumaila raised a brow. "I mean, it was pretty bold of you to say."
"Was I wrong?" He inched even closer, his body almost pressing against hers.
Shumaila felt herself heating up but refused to back down. "I don't remember signing up for ownership."
Hamza let out a deep chuckle, trapping her against the nearby wall with his arms. "You sure?" His voice dropped lower, huskier. "Because I meant it."
Shumaila inwardly cursed. She had meant to tease him, not have her entire soul leave her body from embarrassment.
Her throat went dry as he leaned closer, noses brushing, his warm breath fanning over her skin.
"You're mine, Shumaila," he whispered. "You know it. I know it."
Her fingers curled into fists, her body frozen in place.
Then, with a sudden, desperate need to escape before she combusted, she quickly smacked him on the head, forcing some distance between them.
Hamza blinked in surprise before grinning.
"I have to go," she muttered hastily. "The girls are waiting for me at the dorm."
Before he could get another word in, she sprinted away, face burning red.
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Hopeless," he muttered before running a hand through his hair and heading in the opposite direction.