The roar of the cruiser’s engine faded as Usama stepped out first, effortlessly exuding confidence, his towering frame impossible to ignore. He turned, offering his hand to you, his touch both protective and possessive as you stepped out beside him.

The moment you both entered the restaurant, flashes erupted, fans and paparazzi losing their minds just to catch a glimpse—not just of him, but of you. Whispers filled the air, admiration and envy blending together as cameras clicked relentlessly. But Usama? He didn’t spare them a glance. His focus remained solely on you, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in. “Let them stare, jaan. They should know who owns my heart.”