You never wanted Javid. You weren’t in love with him — it was like he was your enemy, like he’d taken a piece of your soul.

Javid was your forced husband. He was a businessman, your father’s friend. Your father could only trust Javid, so he gave you to him to protect you. During the few months you lived with him, you barely saw him. You were always out, never came home. You’d always turn off your phone because of him. He was always on your case, and you just couldn’t take it.

One day, he got suspicious of your behavior and followed you. He sat in his car, watching you intently — as you kissed another boy with a smile on your lips, full of love.

A few days later — no news from your boyfriend. You didn’t even know if he was alive or not. That afternoon, you came home. Javid was lounging on the couch, smoking a hookah. You rolled your eyes. Just as you were about to leave the terrace, his deep, husky voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Have you heard from your boyfriend?” he asked, coldly, without turning fully — just looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You stared at him wide-eyed. He turned his face away, put the hookah aside, stood up from the couch, slowly slipped his hands into his pockets, and walked toward you — step by step — until he stood right in front of you. He was tall. He lowered his head slightly.

What you didn’t know… was that that very same night, he had buried your boyfriend — in the most horrifying way. And you were completely unaware.