The corridors of the hospital echoed with urgent footsteps and hurried whispers. Fluorescent lights flickered above, casting long shadows across the pale tiled floors as two men arrived in a frenzy. One was tall, middle-aged, and visibly anxious—his tailored suit wrinkled from the drive, eyes darting for a room number. Beside him strode a younger man—broad-shouldered, regal in bearing, every step exuding a quiet dominance. His sharp jawline was tense, his eyes a cold storm of worry and fury.
Aahil Shah.
"There she is," the younger man growled.
Before Raneya could react, Aahil had crossed the distance in long, powerful strides—like a tidal wave of fury—and grabbed her arm.
Raneya stood outside Room 203, her fingers wringing the edge of her shawl, breath shallow. Her heart pounded not with fear for herself, but for the frail woman inside who had nearly died because of fate's twisted sense of humor.
"This is your doing, isn't it?" Aahil thundered, eyes blazing. "You reckless—how dare you just stand here?!"
His grip tightened. "What the hell did you do to my grandmother?!"
Raneya stumbled back, too shocked to respond. His words pierced her like shards of ice. She opened her mouth, but the elder man stepped forward—his voice calm, commanding.
"Aahil. Enough."
"She—!"
"She saved your grandmother," the man said, placing a steady hand on his son's shoulder. "Let the police speak."
A constable arrived just in time, stepping between them. "She was the one who brought the victim in after the hit and run. We've taken her statement. The girl isn't at fault. Quite the opposite. Without her, your mother might've bled out on the road."
Aahil said nothing—just turned his head sharply to the side. No apology. No acknowledgment. His silence cut deeper than words as he brushed past Raneya like she was nothing.
Raneya's pride burned, but she stood firm.
Justice Shah—his voice gentler now—turned to her. "I apologize for my son's behavior, my child. He's… very close to his grandmother. He'll calm down soon."
"I understand," she said quietly, though her dignity ached. It wasn't the aggression that wounded her—it was the assumption. The mistrust.
The doctor emerged then, face solemn before softening. "She's conscious. Out of danger, but she needs full rest and monitoring."
Without a word, Aahil strode into the room.
Raneya exhaled. So that's how he loved—like a tempest, violent and silent.
She didn't like his behavior—arrogant, aggressive, disrespectful—but a small part of her understood. Fear makes beasts out of men.
Justice Shah turned to her again. "Thank you," he said quietly. "If you hadn't helped her…"
He didn't finish. Instead, he placed a hand over his heart in silent gratitude, then followed his son inside.
Inside the room, Razia Begum lay surrounded by tubes and beeping monitors. Her eyelids fluttered open at the sound of the door. The moment she saw Aahil, her eyes filled.
"My boy…"
Aahil knelt beside her bed, kissing her hand. His voice trembled. "You scared me, Dadi."
"My lion, I'm still here," she smiled weakly. "But I want to see the girl. The one who saved me."
Aahil stiffened. "There's no need—Dadi, she's just some girl—"
"I said," her voice sharpened, "I want to meet her."
Aahil's jaw clenched. But he couldn't refuse her. Defeated, he rose and exited the room.
Raneya was walking away when his voice echoed like a whip.
"You. Come with me."
She stopped, eyes wide, turning slowly to find Aahil standing like a shadow at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, chin raised. Even disheveled, he radiated command.
"I'm not your servant," she said, her voice low but firm. "I helped your grandmother because it was right. Not because I owe you."
Their eyes locked—his, blazing; hers, unflinching.
"You have quite the tongue for someone living off fate's mercy," he muttered.
"I still have my dignity," she fired back.
There was a flicker—something unreadable—in Aahil's eyes. And then, without warning, he grabbed her arm again.
"You will come. She's asking for you."
She didn't resist—not for him, but for the woman who had called her back from the edge.
The moment Razia saw her, her face lit up like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
"You," she whispered, reaching out. "You brought me back from death… You're my angel."
Raneya knelt beside her, emotion catching in her throat. "I'm glad you're okay."
"You saved me," Razia said, her eyes wet. "You're not a stranger. You're someone I was meant to meet."
Raneya blinked. "You remind me of someone I lost," she murmured. "Someone kind."
"I want you to come with me," Razia declared.
Raneya blinked. "What?"
"My son and grandson are buried in courtrooms and boardrooms. I need someone who hears people's hearts."
Justice Shah looked surprised, but Razia silenced him with a raised hand. "I'm serious. I want her."
Justice Shah turned to Raneya. "Would you… consider it? My mother sees something in you. And I admit—your courage was rare. If you agree, we'd like to bring you to our home. At least until she recovers."
Raneya froze.
Strangers. A new home. After everything she had escaped?
And yet… maybe it was her chance to disappear. To hide in plain sight. And she liked Razia. Warm. Fierce. Kind.
"I… I'll come," she said at last.
Razia smiled, eyes closing in peace. "Then it's settled."
As Raneya gently fed her soup, their conversation turned soft and natural, like two women who had known each other all their lives.
Outside, Aahil stood with his back to the door, arms crossed.
"She doesn't seem dangerous," Justice Shah said carefully.
"She's something," Aahil muttered. "I don't like her."
"That's not what I said," Justice Shah replied. "Your grandmother likes her—and that's what matters. Still… be cautious. Have someone look into her background. Quietly. I want to know exactly who we've just brought into our lives."
Aahil didn't reply. He stared through the glass at the girl who had defied him… and smiled at his grandmother like she belonged.
He didn't look away.
Because even though she had walked in like an angel…There was something haunted behind her eyes.
And Aahil Shah didn't trust angels.Especially not the ones who bled like devils.