When Layla now stood looking at Aidan, the man she has depended upon her entire life, whom is now standing as the vile deceitful monster remorselessly treats her trusting soul, the feelings fester like a deep wound.
This interaction encapsulates the life of Kamal she pursued alongside the truth she sought and every single lie she had suffered is revealed to her. Now Kamal Aidan is a microcosm of every Aidan-esque figure she has been exposed to.
And now, with Lukes unmatched capacity for villainy, empathy and dominance, Aidan turns both mentally and physically emaciated.
With a timid yet vicious flick of his gaze, Aidan easily erupts the cold yet beneath the surface fortitude of his resolve. He now strips Layla off all the strength she had virtually.
This feeling triumphately liberates Layla
"I was wondering whether you will turn up," Sighs Aidan with full control and suppose flexes in camber eyes of deep sympathy. His tone was cautionary while and oozing to laden his voice like a dagger Please walk Joseph Through the intense spellbound Akshardham Bridge shelter.
Layla didn't even blink. "Not for you, Aidan," she responded, breaking the quiet as if her words were a weapon. The fury simmering in her voice was palpable. "I came here because I can no longer bear the deceit, the puppeteering. I am not your puppet anymore."
Aidan stood frozen in time, just like that, head unmoving like he was trying to analyze with a fixed gaze. His expression showed no signs of grace and no "sorry" showed anything at all toward her. Just those icy glowers that made Layla's stomach turn with that unholy blend of intensity and discomfort.
"You think you've won, don't you?" He seemed to taunt and poke fun right at her with that expression laced with something more grim in undertone. "You think you've figured everything out, that you're in control now. But you're wrong, Layla. Kamal is bigger than anything you can fathom. I know how to survive in this world. Actually, it is world of mine. Not you." A slap in the face packed neatly in words.
Set her back stiff. Eyes glazed. Told you:" I am angry and loosened tautly wound up." The moment felt different, reckless in theory, yes – not afraid anymore. This time was a little more special. She was not back down to anything. Anything.
"Survival has never been justification for my existence, Aidan," Layla spoke calmly. "I am here to obliterate everything. This included Kamal's empire and your plans."
With every step that Aidan took closer to Layla, she could sense the change in the room. The atmosphere, once normal, now felt thick and heavy. In the beginning, he was a man whom she presumed to be an ally, but now, threatening words echoing in her ears have very much changed that perception. She wasn't about to back down.
"Do you think you stand a chance in stopping me, Layla? You think that by undoing everything, you will delete my existence? Kamal was always the starting point, but I have been in the shadows long, long before you walked into the spotlight. The attention you grab is merely a minute portion of the entire gamut," Aidan said, stepping closed, his movements controlled, enabling his gaze to narrow, straightforward into hers.
"I will no longer tolerate being a puppet," Layla fumed, articulating each word as if she were only breathing fire. "You exploited my family's history, Aidan. To you, I was a mere asset awaiting for exploitation. But no, I am not an asset, I'm not your material. No more being your subordinate character in a story that is not mine."
Aidan's expression changed as he stopped moving, Was that surprise? It only lasted for a second before it was replaced by his classic blank expression. I guess some surprise is better than none at all.
"Do you actually think you get what's happening, Layla?" he inquired, his voice notably milder now. "You believe you have solved some great mystery? You believe you are the only person capable of defeating Kamal? You are dancing to my tune. You were a pawn, I discarded you in the end. You do not concern me anymore. You were merely used to get to where I wanted."
But her competitive nature remained unyielding. "No, Aidan. The one who's been played is you."
Aidan's eyes blazed for a split second. Just for a split second, but it was sufficient. Enough for layla to understand he was not as self assured as he was moments ago. For the first time, she could see some signs of previous along enduring facade.
"Don't you see, Layla?" Aidan's tone lowered, becoming more intense. "This world? Your family's legacy and vendetta against Kamal? No, it does not care. It is about dominance. Control over everything. In order to live, survive exists in the world. The tough decisions are a must. As for Kamal? Merely a pawn for us in this broader outline of the game. Everyone has their role."
Layla's hands turned into fists. The discussion wasn't about power, and she didn't want anything to do with it. Coming here only served the intent of taking everything from Aidan and Kamal, exposing the truth and putting an end to it. The only thing that mattered was justice. Justice meant restoring the treatment her family was subjected to.
"I don't require you to surrender the power, Aidan," she spoke with rigid mechanics of a snowstorm. "Simply put, I require the truth. Empire of Kamal? Founded on nothing but deception. My work gives life to it. I will eliminate any option you get to pose power over others from first strike, ensure that."
Something flashed in Aidan's eyes—some anger and frustration but also something bordering fear—and it struck her why. She realized just how much he had underestimated her and now it was too late.
"You really think you can do this alone, Layla?" Aidan's voice turned softer, almost a whisper. "You can't. Kamal has too many connections. He's too powerful."
"I'm not alone," Layla said firmly, her voice steady. "I've got the truth on my side. And people who will help me bring him down. You? Just a mark in the history. And I'm done with you."
The two of them kept silent for a long moment. Aidan stared at her, his face acting as an unreadable mask. Layla was able to sense the thick and oppressively the air around her. The tension however, this time too, was bound to change. No more would he steer the narrative. She decided. He does not control this narrative anymore—this was her story—and she was determined to see it through.
Aidan gave a long sigh, shoulders slumping as if in defeat. "Fine," he muttered, as if in soliloquy. "Do what you want, Layla. But understand, you won't win. You'll regret this. Terribly."
What else could be said? But he did not concern her anymore. The truth. Evidence. And now, the world was ready to learn of Kamal's reality. Aidan? He was no longer of significance, evidence was all that mattered. Turning toward the door was easy: she had already won.
With everything that has happened to her, I am still able to drive myself in such a manner that upon fitting the key in the ignition, she would brace for the storm that her life would soon throw her way. Whatever happens in her life through the storm will have a way for not only the car, but the person driving it too, which in this case is herself. I cannot describe how that feels in a manner so simplistic and she ends up bracing herself to whatever chaos ensues right from the get go.
In her case through the storm, would be better fitting to a romantic fantasy. I can relate to her, I truly can. In situations involving character in a romantic context, things start to become a whole different case from there onwards. If only it were as simple for her to describe the setup situation. However, when you have boundless ornateness that takes place as how she expressed her setup situation, this strikes a person as familiar to me for the very fact she describes it so inelegantly. From my perspective, I believe I am within everyones reach, Yet how everything is presented is unique to each individual. Rowing through mental waters of a very colorful island where no presence of life is is very tugging on my rope of imagination. Out of description, simple is a form of beauty known as elegance, wilderness of the very first stripe of civilization transforming into overgrown safron where bare nature flourishes.