Love arrived quietly.
Stolen glances.
Late-night arguments.
Shared coffee.
His hand brushing hers.
Her laughter filling rooms that had forgotten joy.
Then came the night that shattered it all.
Ayesha was walking through the east wing of the mansion when she heard voices behind a half-open door.
Rayan.
And a woman.
Beautiful. Elegant. Dangerous.
"I'm pregnant," the woman said.
Ayesha's heart stopped.
Rayan was silent.
Then he said, "No one can know yet."
Ayesha stepped back as if slapped.
The next morning, she left.
No note.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
She ran to the only place she trusted—her father's old countryside home.
For three days, she ignored every call.
Until the news broke.
Rayan Malik had been shot.