chapter two :
Author's POV
The silence had barely settled when a knock shattered it.
Loud. Firm. Like it belonged to someone who didn’t believe in asking twice.
Yumna had just begun to drift into peace—a peace she had fought to earn. But peace, in her world, never stayed long. Not when shadows knew your name.
She sat up slowly, her heart already racing, a lump forming in her throat.
The city outside was quiet, almost too quiet. Even the air felt heavier now.
And behind that door… was something that didn’t belong.
---
Yumna’s POV
I moved without thinking, feet bare against the cold floor.
The knock didn’t come again, but its echo lingered.
I tiptoed to the peephole, expecting a neighbor, maybe a mistake.
But what I saw made my breath hitch.
A man.
Tall. Still. Face completely covered in black. Even his hands were gloved.
I didn’t recognize him—not immediately. But my body did.
Something in me screamed
I backed away from the door. My pulse thundered in my ears.
Not like this. Not in my pajamas. Not vulnerable.
I rushed to the corner where my abaya and niqab lay. Threw them on with trembling hands. My fingers shook as I adjusted the pin beneath my chin.
I didn’t know what I was doing—only that I had to protect something.
I walked back toward the gate, every step heavy.
The silence outside felt like a held breath.
And then I opened the door.
Just a few inches.
That’s all it took.
Because he moved faster than I thought a man in a coat could.
The door slammed open. A strong arm wrapped around my shoulders. Pulled me in.
And the other—reached up, ripped his mask off.
“Missed me?”
"Let me go!"
.
“Why are you doing this?” .
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“You slapped me in front of people,” “No one gets away with that.”
“You deserved it,” . “And you still do.”
“Maybe,” “But I don’t like loose ends.”
. “Don’t touch me,” . “Don’t you dare.”
“I want to see who had the guts to humiliate me.”
“I said don’t,” I have the right to cover myself. You don’t get to take that away.”
.
“Stop it!” “This isn’t yours! You have no right!”
“Then stop me,”
“I swear if you—!”
.
.
“You’re even more dangerous uncovered,” .
“I said leave!” . “You can’t just walk in and take what you want!”
“Tell me to stop like you mean it,” “Fight me.”
“You like pretending you’re untouchable,” “But you’re not. Not to me.”
“I could take anything I want right now,” . “You know that.”
“And I could scream,”“And pray. And fight till my last breath.”
“You’re a storm,”
“And you’re about to get drowned in it.”
---
Author’s POV
He didn’t move—not right away.
For a moment, they stood there, two forces crashing against each other. He wanted power. She refused to surrender.
And though he had strength, she had something stronger—conviction.
A second passed. Then another.
Daniel exhaled.
Not in defeat.
In calculation.
He stepped back, only slightly. His jaw clenched. His hands dropped to his sides.
“You’ll regret this,”
“I already don’t,”
He turned. Walked to the door. Opened it.
But before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes colder than before.
“This was just a visit.”
Then he disappeared into the night.
Daniel’s POV
I didn’t expect her to fight that hard.
Her hands. Her voice. The way her body twisted beneath my grip—defiant. Furious. Even scared, she didn’t beg.
And when I saw her face… it wasn’t fear I saw first. It was fire.
That slap might’ve bruised my ego. But this… this war in her eyes?
It scarred something deeper.
I didn’t smile. Didn’t mock. I just stared. Trying to memorize every inch of her—because I knew…
Next time wouldn’t be this soft.
She made her choice the moment she hit me. And now I had.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
---
Yumna’s POV
I stood in the shower for what felt like hours, letting the water run as if it could cleanse my skin... and the memory.
But nothing could.
My face felt bare. I kept hearing his voice. Feeling his grip.
I had fought. And I’d gotten away.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Eyes swollen. Lips trembling.
No more.
I wasn’t going to live in fear of a man who thought silence was a permission slip.
He crossed a line—and this time, I was drawing one of my own.
---
Author’s POV
The next morning, Yumna stood before the police station gates—her black abaya catching in the breeze, niqab firm on her face, but her heart pounding with vulnerability.
She walked in anyway.
. “Yes, sister?”
“I want to file an attempted assault report.”
“His name is... Daniel Raze Whitlock
.
"Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
“Are you sure it wasn’t a misunderstanding?”
"Maybe he was just angry, not trying to hurt you."
"Do you have proof he meant harm?"
“He tore off my niqaab. He forced himself into my house.”
“But he didn’t… actually go through with anything, right?”
“I stopped him,” “That’s the point.”
. “Look, sister, it’s complicated. Daniel Raze Whitlock… complications
“So you’re telling me if I hadn’t stopped him, only then you’d listen?”
“Watch your tone.”
“I came here for justice.”
“And we’re telling you—this isn’t the way.”
---
Author’s POV
Ali hadn’t said a word while she spoke.
Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t react.
He just listened—from behind the glass, unseen.
But when Yumna walked back out into the sunlight, defeated and disgusted—
He followed.
---
The sun was starting to set. Shadows stretching across the sidewalk as Yumna walked, faster than usual, head down.
Then—
A voice behind her.
“I can help you.”
She froze.
Turned.
He was standing there. A tall man in a grey coat. Clean-shaven. Calm eyes.
“I’m Detective Ali,” . “And you’re not wrong. About any of it.”
“I couldn’t say anything inside,” “But I’ve dealt with people like Daniel before. And I know how this city protects men like him.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I don’t protect people like him.”
“If you want help—real help—call me. But once we start… we don’t stop.”
.
“I’m ready,” .
---
Author’s POV
Sometimes, the biggest battles begin in silence.
And sometimes, help arrives in a whisper—not a rescue.
The war had only just begun.
But this time, Yumna wasn’t walking into it
alone.
