Parvaiz's deft and tender touch roved over your spine as you held a bouquet of colorful daffodils. His brother's eyes remained fixed on you, his piercing gaze a permanent fixture in your peripheral vision.

His presence alone seemed to soothe the air around you, protecting you from the potential dangers that could potentially unfold. But your gaze remained fixed on the distant figure of Killian - a man who seemed cursed to bring misfortune wherever he went.

"Let's go inside, خوشگلم," he urged, desperate to divert your attention from the unlucky aura of his brother. You held tightly onto the basket of flowers, knowing that a simple slip could mean disaster.

And yet, he could never tear your eyes away from Killian. He was supposed to be the embodiment of good fortune, not him.