He touched her.
I saw the fear on her face. Wide eyes, trembling lips.
He scared her.
And then he had the audacity to look confused. Like he didn't know what he'd done wrong.
I wanted to break him.
"I confessed," he said, as if that justified everything. "She froze. So what? She owes me an answer—"
"She doesn't owe you anything," I growled. My fists were already curling, my jaw tight. "Especially not fear."
I hit him—hard.
He stumbled back, but not far. He was stronger than I thought, already throwing his weight back at me. I blocked, ducked, swung back.
All I could see was Iman.
Terrified. Silent. Looking at him like she was cornered.
He touched her. He made her feel that way.
The blood roared in my ears.
I barely registered Zaffar yelling beside me, "Hamid—get Hashim NOW!"
Haffiz's gang rushed in—four of them.
Zaffar and Hamid crashed into them like wild dogs.
Zaffar threw a hard jab into the tall guy with the cap—Sameer, I think.
Hamid had two of them on him, but he was ruthless, kicking one in the gut and smashing the other to the ground.
I was with Haffiz—punch after punch. He got me on the jaw once. My lip split.
I didn't stop. I didn't feel it.
"You think you can claim her just because you confessed?" I spat, slamming my elbow into his side. "You think love is a f***ing deal?"
He roared and lunged again.
We rolled onto the grass. I felt his knuckles hit my ribs, but I didn't care. My rage was bigger than the pain.
"I've known her since we were kids," I hissed, pinning him down, "and I've never made her feel cornered. Never scared her. You? You think that's love?"
He spat blood. Smirked.
"You're no better," he whispered. "At least I had the guts to say it."
I punched him. Again. Again.
But the smirk stayed.
Suddenly—he twisted beneath me.
Something sharp in his hand—where the hell did that come from?
It wasn't a knife—just a ring with a sharp edge—but he slashed it across my forearm.
I flinched, blood trickling down.
In that moment, he threw me off balance—literally and mentally.
He stood—breathing heavy, shirt ripped, lip swollen—and for the first time, he had the upper hand.
His boys regrouped. One of them grabbed Zaffar from behind. Another hit Hamid in the back of the head with a branch.
We were losing ground.
I was on my knees, panting, blood on my arm, trying to focus—
And I saw her again.
Iman.
Frozen at the edge of the chaos.
Her lips parted, eyes glossy, one hand on her chest as if holding in a scream.
She was looking at me .
Not Haffiz.
Me.
And even though he had the upper hand in the fight… I knew I still had the one thing he didn't.
Her gaze.
Her fear—for me.
Her trust.
And if I had to bleed to protect that—so be it.