Today she had come prepared.
She had made her decision.
All those things that confused her and stopped her from accepting Islam—Dr. Ibrahim had cleared them away.
Now, with a scarf covering her head, she recited the Kalma. Tears filled her eyes—she didn't even know why. Her heart just wanted to burst and cry endlessly today.
La ilaha illallah, Muhammadur Rasool Allah…
The moment she recited the Kalma, her hiccups broke. She hid her face in her hands and wept with sobs.
Her heart felt as if, for the very first time, it had understood what peace meant. A heavy cross had been lifted off her chest.
Dr. Ibrahim placed his hand on her head.
"Welcome to the faith of Islam."
Those sitting nearby congratulated her. Sometimes she laughed, sometimes she cried, while receiving their blessings.
She had not yet told anyone. But she had planned to give this surprise to Hoor first. She did not know, however, what fate had already planned for her.
---
Jaan received a call from Derek, who told him he was waiting at his penthouse.
He also called Emma, asking her to come straight there.
For some reason, Jaan's heart was beating unpleasantly, as though something bad was about to happen.
He parked his car and was about to step out when his eyes—unintentionally—fell on something.
What he saw was enough to set him ablaze.
Emma was with Hannan. Hannan made her sit inside a car, and just as he was about to sit himself, his eyes fell on Jaan. He smiled at Jaan, made a victory sign, then got into the car and disappeared from sight.
For a moment, Jaan felt like killing both Emma and Hannan. He began walking toward the penthouse when something struck him, and his advancing steps stopped right there.
He had seen it—when Hannan had put Emma into the car, her head had dropped to the side.
Which meant… she wasn't conscious.
"Shit…"
Jaan cursed himself, furious. But he did not realize that these two moments of mistrust were going to cost him dearly.
Very dearly.
He wanted to get into his car and follow them. But just as he started the car and drove only a little, sudden gunfire erupted on his car…
---
After this incident, Olivia said yes to Derek.
Although it hadn't gone according to his plan, still, things happened exactly the way he wanted.
Derek glanced at Olivia sitting beside him, who was driving. She was wearing a red jumper suit, her complexion glowing in it. Her delicate frame looked like a rose in bloom.
But Derek was Derek. He could never compliment her. Instead, he made remarks that always burned her up inside. Even now, while she sat in the driver's seat, he was guiding her without revealing the destination. Olivia simply drove wherever he directed.
"Wow… whose place is this?" she asked in surprise as Derek unlocked the penthouse door and stepped inside.
The lights switched on automatically.
A large lounge.
A fish aquarium on the wall.
An open kitchen.
Beautiful paintings and decoration pieces.
Not too many features—but everything was so expensive that one couldn't take their eyes away.
"Consider it your own," Derek said.
Olivia looked at him with an expression that seemed to say, Really?
The tone was sarcastic.
"Alright, alright. It's Jaan's. But Jaan is a bit different, you know."
At his words, Olivia shook her head and began looking around the penthouse with interest.
"I don't know what Jaan's problem is. Anyway, wait here, I'll go bring James."
Saying this, he left again.
As soon as he was gone, Olivia glanced toward the room across from her. Then, after making sure no one was around, she opened its door and stepped inside.
The perfume spread throughout the room made it obvious—this was Jaan's room.
The room was dark. She pulled the curtain aside, and light flooded in. The window was as big as the entire wall.
From there, Jaan's car was clearly visible.
She fixed her eyes on it while making a call on her phone. Her eyes, at that moment, were empty of all emotions.
"He's going back… this is the right time."
The moment she said it, gunfire rained on Jaan's car.
She turned her gaze away from the car and began surveying the room instead—as though what had just happened outside had nothing to do with her.
The room was large. She turned and noticed the pictures on the wall.
She looked at them with interest until her eyes landed on one particular picture—and her heart nearly stopped.
Her eyes kept returning to that picture again and again.
"Olivia…"
Derek's voice echoed through the penthouse as he entered, calling for her.
But she didn't hear him. She was staring at the picture in utter disbelief.
At last, Derek found her. He caught her hand, trying to pull her outside.
But she didn't move an inch.
"Olivia, please hurry! Jaan's… Jaan's car was fired at! We need to go to him!"
Seeing her frozen in place, Derek was forced to say it. His face was pale with panic.
"W… wh… who… is this…?"
Her trembling finger pointed toward the picture.
Derek glanced at it, then replied dismissively, "That's Jaan's sister. Maryam. Now come on!"
He pulled her forcefully.
But he didn't notice—the moment he named her, Olivia's face had turned dangerously pale…
---
"My… this can't be happening…" her lips moved slowly.
"Olivia, ch–" Derek began to speak but then went silent. His eyes were now fixed on Olivia, whose vision was blurring. She clutched her chest, struggling to breathe, but the air wouldn't reach her lungs. Darkness crept into her eyes.
The last thought that flashed in her mind was:
"What has he done…!!!"
---
He was watching her unconscious body through the camera installed in the room. His heart wanted to rush to her side immediately, yet he restrained himself. He was waiting—waiting for her to wake up.
So, with desperate impatience, he kept staring at her delicate features through the screen.
How much he had missed her…
Her voice.
Her brown eyes—now closed.
Her voice again…
Her rejection had shattered him completely.
That Hannan… who was once quiet, a little shy, a soft-hearted man. Yes, he could have controlled himself after her rejection…
But there was another side of him—one that only found peace in inflicting pain, in taking lives.
He never wanted the beast inside him to harm the delicate, lotus-like existence of his beloved. That was why he had cut himself off from everyone, kept no contact, distanced himself from the world—just to maintain control.
But if he had known that his isolation would steal away his love, he would never have done it.
Jahan.
The person who had stolen his love, his obsession.
The one he had hated since childhood.
Because of Jahan's mother, he had often witnessed fights between his own loving parents. That day was seared into his memory—when Jahan pushed his father to save his mother. Rage had burned inside him. But then, when he saw the torment etched on Jahan's face as he looked at his mother's blood-stained, lifeless body, an unexpected calm washed over him.
Later, seeing how close Jahan was to his dog, Rocky, he poisoned its food. And when Jahan, in his desperation to end Rocky's suffering, strangled it with his own hands—the desolation on his face had given Hannan immense satisfaction. It felt like water had been poured over the fire raging inside him.
He was so happy—it was beyond words. From then on, he never missed a chance to hurt Jahan.
Mischief was always done by him, but Jahan was blamed. And Hannan silently endured, knowing no one would ever believe him if he spoke. That was the advantage he had. Soon, causing Jahan pain became a habit—and then, an obsession.
Sometimes he would break a child's leg, sometimes an arm. Always in secret, hiding his face, so everyone thought it was Jahan.
Eventually, his actions drove his father to send Jahan to a hostel. They all believed Jahan was truly behind everything.
When Jahan came home for Christmas holidays, Hannan returned to his favorite pastime—but this time, he did it with his own hands. He locked Jahan inside a room from the outside. Then he cut Maryam's arms with a knife. He knew her screams would tear Jahan apart inside that locked room. Blood gushed from her cuts, soaking the bedsheet. The six-year-old innocent girl cried and screamed at the top of her lungs, desperately trying to free herself.
And that very scene—her helpless cries—was his comfort.
But he had to stop, because his mother appeared outside. He didn't want to ruin his image in front of her. So he let Jahan out and locked himself inside instead.
But what shocked him was learning that Maryam had disappeared.
He remembered clearly—he had left her wounded in that room. Where had she gone?
He checked outside, following the trail of blood drops, but the marks vanished into the trees and dirt. Surely, she had escaped while he had shut himself inside.
Afterward, Jahan was sent back to boarding school.
But when Jahan tried to harm himself there, his father admitted him to a mental hospital. Four months later, Jahan was released—because during that time, he hadn't done anything that made him seem mentally unstable.
Hannan knew all of this.
Through his deeds, he eventually came under the notice of "D." Since no one had ever seen his real face—only knowing of the scar across his cheek—he took advantage. He eliminated D and permanently stole his name. From then on, he carried out his dark desires under that identity.
It was also he who had attacked Derek, Jahan's friend—because he wanted to see Jahan broken again.
Then came Emma, during college. On the very first day, when seniors tried to harass him, she—a tomboyish girl—stood up for him. Of course, he didn't spare those boys later, but that genuine girl carved a place in his heart. Slowly, she took over his entire soul.
One day, he received a contract to kill both Jahan and Emma. Killing Jahan was no problem. But Emma? No one could even think of touching her.
He investigated who had sent the message. The truth shook him—it was his own mother.
He wanted to punish her too. But Emma's rejection drove him away before he could act.
Yet now, nothing would stop him. He would claim Emma. She was his. She is his. And she always would be.
His eyes returned to the screen—where she was beginning to wake up.
She slowly opened her eyes, her gaze going straight to the ceiling.
She stared blankly at it, as though something was fixed there, but she couldn't quite see clearly. At that moment, her mind was completely blank.
She only remembered that she had been walking toward the penthouse through the park path when someone suddenly pressed something against her nose—darkness engulfed her. That was the last thing she remembered.
Now, even the haze in her vision was fading. Soon, she noticed colors on the ceiling and jerked upright in shock. As she turned her gaze around, she froze.
There wasn't a single wall in that room that wasn't covered with her pictures. Not a single spot left empty. Even statues of her in different poses were placed there.
One statue sat on the sofa, sipping coffee.
Another stood in front of a mirror, fixing its hair.
They looked so real that for a moment it felt like someone was actually standing there, straightening their hair.
And the pictures—too many to count.
As her gaze moved from the walls toward the bed, her eyes widened further. Even the pillows, the cushions, the blanket—everything bore her image.
She was still staring at these things in shock when the door to the room opened and someone walked in. Turning her face toward the person entering, her eyes widened even more.
Dressed in a black T-shirt and red trousers, it was none other than Hannan. He placed a chair near her bed, sat down leisurely, his black eyes glittering as he gazed only at her.
The way he looked at her made Emma feel uneasy. There was a strange madness in his eyes.
"What is all this, Hanan??" Emma turned toward him and asked in astonishment.
"This is my obsession. My love. A love that exists only for you." His tone was entirely different today.
Emma just stared at him in shock, unable to understand what to say to such words.
"You have no idea, Emma, what you are to me…!!!" he murmured passionately, softly taking her cold hands into his own.
Emma felt fear rising inside her at his manner.
"I have to go… Jahan must be waiting for me." She pulled her hand away from his and stood up, moving toward the door.
That act of pulling her hands free and then speaking Jahan's name drove him mad. In a flash, he leapt up and blocked her way, forcing her to stop.
"I let it go this time. But if you ever try to leave again—and if his name passes your lips again—I won't hesitate to cut out the tongue that dares to speak it."
Grabbing her jaw tightly in his fist, he spoke in a crazed tone that terrified her. She had never seen him like this before.
"Let go…" she struggled hard to free her face from his grip. If she hadn't, she was certain her jawbone would have snapped.
"I can't let you go. I can't ever let you go!" he roared, seizing both her shoulders.
"Have you gone mad? Let me go!" She tried to free her shoulders, but his grip was too strong.
"Yes! I've gone mad! And you are the one who made me mad! After driving me insane, how can you think of turning away from me?" His grip on her fragile shoulders tightened until Emma felt her bones might break.
Any other girl would have fainted from the pain, but she remained standing. Not a single tear fell from her eyes—though lately she had been prone to crying easily. This was the strength she had gained from Jahan's care and attention, which had made her stronger than ever before.
"Hanan, are you crazy? When did I ever tell you I loved you? When did I ever give you any sign to make you think that way? Tell me—when??"
She shouted the words, clutching his collar with both hands, her voice rising in anger until veins bulged in her neck.
"I don't care! You will have to love me!"
His grip on her shoulders loosened slightly, as though calming down.
"What the hell! I can't. I never can, never will!" she stepped back, her voice and eyes filled with helplessness.
"Why…??" He, who had calmed a moment ago, flared up again.
"Because I love Jahan!!" she screamed, collapsing on her knees, exhausted.
Her answer froze him completely.
When a lover realizes their beloved's heart belongs to another—that moment is no less than doomsday for them. That was the agony he now faced.
💔💔 A heart shattered into countless pieces… 💔💔
💔💔 The only crime was… loving you. 💔💔
Jahan had dealt him the greatest defeat. But Hanan was not one to give up so easily.
He steadied himself and looked at Emma, who knelt on the ground staring at her hands, lost. He walked closer to her.
"And if he no longer exists…??"
His question was strange. Emma lifted her gaze, only to find cruelty in his eyes… his words icy cold.
"W-what… do you mean?" Her heart thumped in dread, as though a dark fear of losing everything was crawling into her veins.
He turned, picked up a remote, and switched on the TV. Emma stared at him in terror, her sixth sense screaming that something was wrong.
The TV came alive, and the reporter's voice filled the room. But after hearing the words, Emma felt she could no longer hear at all.
On the screen appeared a picture of her beloved enemy-of-Hanan, with the headline below:
"Viewers, Jahan Jaffar—a prominent name in the business world—was shot by unknown assailants. His condition is extremely critical."
Hanan cast one last deep look at her broken state, then walked out of the room. Outside, he overheard the voices of his men. In that moment, he made his decision.
When he returned, Emma was gone. She had escaped. But he was not worried—she couldn't go far. He took a syringe filled with black liquid from the side table, then slipped out the back of the cottage.
---
"Let her go!!" Jahan roared, facing the man holding Emma at gunpoint, her neck locked in his arm, edging backward toward the cliffside.
"No!! If she can't be mine, I won't let her be yours either!" Hanan screamed, gun pointed at her head.
Emma was conscious, but the injection had left her helpless in his grip. Otherwise, she would have fought free. She had been hiding, waiting for Hanan to pass, when she heard Jahan's voice. At first, she thought it was her imagination. But when she peeked out, she saw him—bandages on his forehead and arms, calling out to her.
She tried to go to him, but Hanan seized her and jabbed something into her arm. Slowly, her body began to feel paralyzed.
The distance between her and Jahan was barely five steps, but for him it felt endless.
He had overheard his men—who were in fact D's men—speaking. Their real boss was still alive, and now wanted him dead. Hanan knew his time was up. No one had ever escaped D. So he decided—he would kill Emma and die with her.
Jahan clenched his jaw, staring at him. He could overpower Hanan, but the problem was Emma was in his grip. One wrong move could cost her life.
When Jahan stepped forward, Hanan shifted the gun from him to Emma's head, forcing him to halt.
Jahan too had a gun. But even the smallest mistake could end Emma's life.
"Goodbye…" Hanan said coldly.
Emma looked at him. In her brown eyes was joy at seeing Jahan alive—but also longing, a desperate wish to touch him one last time.
There was pain, but also relief—because at least she had chosen the right path.
Bang! Bang! Two gunshots rang out in the air.
"Emmaaaa…!" She heard Jahan's voice calling her name.
Darkness clouded her mind, but she was still conscious. She could still hear the love in his cry—the fear of losing her.
Jahan rushed forward, catching her collapsing body before it hit the ground.
"You'll be fine… you'll be fine…" he whispered, kissing her forehead and cheek—reassuring himself more than her.
Emma felt his touch and smiled faintly. Then her hands went limp, falling lifelessly.
Jahan stared at her in disbelief.
Once again…??
How many times would fate test him?
Would his trials never end?
Her lifeless body was in his arms, yet Jahan felt that he too had died—only his breaths still remained, while Emma's had ceased.
Her face was pale.
Her beloved brown eyes were closed.
Shadows lingered beneath them.
He gazed at her silently, frozen.
At that moment, D appeared beside him, holding a syringe. He first checked Emma's wrist for a pulse—it was faint but present. Then he injected the antidote into her arm and stood up.
"She's still alive. The poison in her system—I've given her the antidote," D said, his deep black eyes meeting Jahan's blue.
"Why? Why did you do this? I know you never act without reason." Jahan asked, lifting Emma in his arms, his gaze piercing.
"It was some old accounts… settled now. The helicopter's waiting—you'll get there." His face was wrapped in a cloth, his eyes expressionless.
With that, he turned and disappeared into the mist—just as mysteriously as he had arrived.
Jahan cast a glance down the cliff where Hanan had fallen. The gorge was deep. Surely his body would have been crushed beyond recognition. Besides, D's bullets had struck him—one in the heart, one in the head. There was no way he could still be alive.
Jahan exhaled deeply, then looked at Emma. He needed to get her to the hospital.
"Will she be okay?" a man nearby asked anxiously, watching them leave.
"Hmm…" Jahan only gave that much of an answer.
It wasn't enough to reassure him, but he knew D disliked too many questions, so he fell silent.
D, meanwhile, stood staring into the gorge where Hanan had fallen. There was regret in his eyes. But the man with him knew—it wasn't regret over Hanan's death. It was regret that he had died too easily. After being with D for so long, he understood that much.
---
Derek and Jahan sat worried on the hospital bench.
Olivia had suffered a heart attack. After her heart surgery, this was extremely dangerous. And Emma's doctors still couldn't say anything.
"Mr. Jahan…" The doctor came out of the ICU where Olivia was admitted. Derek immediately stood up, while Jahan remained sitting in silence.
"Is everything alright??" Derek asked anxiously.
"Yes. The patient has regained consciousness. Now she wishes to meet Mr. Jahan."
Meet Jahan? That was strange. Derek and Jahan exchanged glances. Then Jahan stood and followed the doctor inside.
Olivia had been staring at the door. When she saw him enter, she smiled softly in relief. Jahan stopped in the doorway, staring at her eyes—the exact color as Maryam's. Surely, she had just removed her lenses, for otherwise her eyes had always been a deep brown.
He stepped closer, slowly, until he was standing by her bed. Olivia tried to sit up, but Jahan stopped her and instead sat beside her.
She took his hand, and giving in to her heart's desire, kissed it—then pressed it to her eyes. Jahan tried to make sense of her actions.
"Please forgive me."
Jahan didn't withdraw his hand. Olivia's tears soaked it, but he only looked at her silently.
She wept, then finally released his hand, wiped her tears, took a deep breath, and began to speak, keeping her gaze fixed on her hands.
"I was born into a poor family, with many illnesses. When I was three, I lost my eyesight. Two years later, it was discovered that I also had a hole in my heart. My mother was poor—my father had already died. I was her only child.
The doctors said I needed a heart transplant. But she didn't have the money. My condition worsened until I had to be admitted to the hospital. I was on the edge of life and death… when my mother told me she had found a donor for both my heart and my eyes.
The surgery was successful. Afterward, she gave me a picture of the one who had donated.
It was the same girl in the picture you have in your room—your sister, Maryam. She had met with a car accident, with little time left because of internal bleeding. Seeing my mother's tears, she gave me her heart—whose heartbeat was her brother—and her eyes—whose shining star was her brother.
But I never forgot the promise I made to my benefactor… to take care of her brother.
Then, when my mother also died, I was left alone—to survive this cruel world. A friend of mine introduced me to a gang that made people addicted to drugs. My job was to lure them with love, then get them addicted.
That work earned me a lot of money. Life became better than ever.
Then came a strange assignment. Something I had never done before. But I didn't care—it was money I wanted.
I joined your company, stayed close to Derek, and kept an eye on you. When Derek's accident happened, it was my job to delay him on that road. Yes—it was me in the hoodie that day.
From the hospital window, I watched as you fed soup to Emma. The attack on your car—yes, I was the one who gave them the information about your location. But you survived.
I did all of that…"
Her voice faltered, she couldn't lift her head to meet his eyes. But she had to speak—she had to confess everything, to unburden her heart.
The room fell into silence.
One filled with regret.
The other—deep in thought.
Jahan's eyes remained fixed on her face. He saw the remorse written there, clear as day.
Without saying a word.
Without complaint.
He leaned forward and pulled her into his arms.
How could he complain? When the heart beating in his chest was hers—his sister's heart. His sister lived before him now, in Olivia's form.
And he didn't want to waste any more time in anger.
But a tear silently escaped his eye, lost in her hair.
Olivia too broke down in his embrace, crying.
---
To be continued…
---