The day was like any other. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Shumaila's high-rise office, casting golden reflections over the pristine glass walls. She was busy reviewing some financial reports, flipping through the documents with precision, unaware of the storm brewing just outside her door. Her assistant, Meera, stood outside the office, palms clammy, trying to steady her breath.
Because someone had arrived.
As Hamza stepped into the towering headquarters of Shumaila's company, the atmosphere seemed to shift subtly around him. Heads subtly turned, whispers rippled through the sea of employees, and all eyes seemed drawn to his presence. He was more than a visitor—he had become an undeniable force in the room. Clad in a sharp black suit, with the first two buttons of his shirt left undone, his muscular build and veiny arms hinted at a strength that spoke of confidence and power. Yet, behind those cold, calculating eyes, there was a softer, more vulnerable man—one whose sole purpose was to see her again, the woman he had chased for four long years.
Meera swallowed hard, nervously entering Shumaila's office.
"Ma'am, your 11 AM meeting… the CEO of Hyperion Technologies is here."
Shumaila, still focused on her documents, didn't look up. "Send him in. Who else from his team is here?"
Meera hesitated before replying, "Only the CEO himself."
Shumaila frowned, finally setting down her pen. That was odd. Most executives never attended such meetings alone. She waved Meera away. "Alright, send him in."
As she turned back to straighten her desk, she heard the click of the door unlocking, closing, then locking. A commanding presence commanded the room, causing the air to grow denser and more suffocating, as if the atmosphere itself had shifted. An inexplicable feeling of unease stirred within, hinting that something was… different. And then—
She heard a voice.
The voice she had been wanting to hear in real not over a call.
"Missed me, sweetheart?"
Shumaila's entire body froze. Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk as she slowly lifted her gaze.
There, standing in front of her, in the flesh, was Hamza.
The world around her blurred into a swirling mosaic of colours and shapes, as if the very fabric of reality was warping under her gaze. Her heartbeat thundered loudly in her ears, each beat echoing like a distant drum, threatening to drown out all other sound. He looked different—no, she thought, more imposing. Bigger. Broader.
His presence seemed to fill the space with an almost tangible power. The sharp angles of his jawline had become more pronounced, sculpted as if by a master artist, casting shadows that accentuated his features.
Those dark eyes, once familiar and gentle, now held the same fierce fire and piercing intensity that had once made her knees weaken and her breath catch. It was undeniable—he had changed. But so had she, her perceptions altered, her feelings evolving. Everything was different now, etched into the depths of her memory, yet somehow undeniably the same.
She stood up slowly, her lips parting, but no words came out. Her mind went blank. Was she dreaming? Was this real?
Hamza, on the other hand, was fighting a silent war within himself. A storm brewed quietly beneath the surface of his calm expression, hidden behind the slight furrow of his brows and the tight set of his jaw. The moment he laid eyes on her, something inside him shifted—something raw and familiar. His heart slammed against his ribs, a sudden, violent thud, as if it had recognised her before his mind had.
She stood there, illuminated by the soft golden lights, and he could swear time slowed just for her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered—so much so that it almost hurt to look at her. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders in dark, fluid waves, each strand catching the light like threads of midnight. That hair—he used to run his fingers through it, once, long ago.
Her navy-blue dress fit her perfectly, tracing the graceful curves of her body with a quiet elegance that drew every eye in the room—and yet, to Hamza, she looked untouched by the crowd, as though she existed in a world apart. A vision he couldn't reach, no matter how close he stood.
And then he saw it. The necklace. That delicate chain of silver and the single sapphire pendant, resting just above the hollow of her throat. The same necklace he had given her—back when he still believed in forever. It clung to her skin like it belonged there, like it had never left her side. And maybe, in a way, it never had.
A part of him ached at the sight. Not just from the resurgence of old memories, but from the unbearable sweetness of the present moment—how beautiful she looked, how achingly far away she still felt. The necklace wasn't just jewellery. It was a symbol of her faith in them.
Hamza stood there, drowning in a thousand unspoken things, unable to look away.
His breath hitched.
She still wore it.
"Hamza…" Her voice finally escaped, soft, almost like a whisper.
That was all it took.
Before she could react, he was moving.
In three long strides, he was across the room, standing inches away from her. Too close. The tension between them was thick, suffocating, crackling with something dangerous, something uncontrollable.
"You're real," she finally breathed out, looking up into his eyes. "You're here."
Hamza smirked slightly, his fingers aching to touch her, but he held himself back. "Four years, and that's all you have to say to me?"
Shumaila's lips trembled, and then—
She snapped.
With swift movement, she grabbed his neck and pulled him down to her level. Before Hamza could even process what was happening, her lips crashed onto his.
His mind went blank.
Every emotion he had buried, every longing he had silenced, every aching feeling he had forced down over the years detonated in a single, overwhelming moment. It was as if the dam he'd built inside him had finally cracked open. Without thinking—without needing to—Hamza wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him like it was the only way to keep breathing. There was no hesitation, no space left between them. His lips found hers with raw, unrestrained urgency, answering her kiss with the intensity of four lost years.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't careful. It was desperate.
The kiss spoke for them when words had failed. It poured out everything they hadn't said—love, sorrow, frustration, hope, regret. A hundred moments of silence unravelled into that one act, as if their souls were trying to remember how not to be apart.
Tears slipped from the corners of Shumaila's eyes, warm trails gliding down her cheeks. Her hands clung to his shirt, knuckles white, trembling slightly. She held onto him like a woman afraid of waking up, of discovering he was just another dream. Part of her feared that if she let go, he would vanish all over again, just like before.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, their foreheads rested together. Their eyes remained closed, as though even sight was too fragile a thing to risk. The world around them had blurred into nothing.
And in that quiet, suspended space, Hamza whispered, voice thick with emotion, "God, I missed you so much."
Shumaila let out a shaky laugh, her hands cupping his face, tracing his features as if memorising them all over again.
"You have no idea how hard it was without you," she whispered. "It felt like I was losing my mind."
Hamza's eyes darkened with emotion as he trailed his fingers to her necklace, his heart pounding at the realisation. "You still wear it."
Shumaila smiled, gripping his hand and placing it over the sapphire pendant. "I never took it off."
That did it.
Hamza groaned, leaning in, pressing his lips to the spot where the pendant rested on her collarbone, kissing it gently before moving back up to her lips, placing soft, lingering kisses all over her face.
"You're mine," he whispered against her lips. "You've always been mine."
Shumaila's breath hitched.
He kissed her again, deeper, slower, as if he was making up for every second they had been apart.
For a long time, they just stood there, tangled in each other, catching up in the only way they knew how.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shumaila let out a breathless laugh, leaning into his chest. "So… Hyperion Technologies, huh?"
Hamza smirked. "Impressed?"
Shumaila arched a brow. "Cocky much?"
He chuckled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Beside you, the CEO of a global empire, don't you think a powerful tech CEO like me looks good?"
Shumaila rolled her eyes but smiled. "Shameless."
"You love it."
With a sigh, she cupped his face again and whispered, "I love you."
Hamza melted. He kissed her forehead, wrapping her into his arms like he never wanted to let go.
"Forever?" he whispered.
Shumaila smiled against his chest. "Forever."
And in that moment, nothing else mattered.