Chapter 103 : Promise?

(Back to the Rahman Mansion)

Samir and Ibrahim found themselves in the confines of Samir's bedroom, standing face to face. Samir had just revealed the details of the encounter with Rafi. Ibrahim's face was a thunderous landscape, his jaw clenched so tight it threatened to shatter. His fists balled and unballed, a silent testament to the fury raging within him.

"You left her alone, Samir?" Ibrahim's voice was low growl, each word laced with a dangerous edge. "How could you leave Ava unguarded? How could you be so careless?" 

"I… I apologize, brother," Samir stammered. "I should have been more careful. I thought I can take care of Ava so didn't take any guard."

But Ibrahim's rage was far from appeased. His eyes, narrowed to fiery slits, burned with a possessive jealousy that chilled even the seasoned Samir. "He… he looked at my wife," Ibrahim hissed, "He tied her shoelace? What was he implying, Samir? That I can't take care of my own woman?"

The casual gesture of tying Ava's shoelace, Samir's words echoed in Ibrahim's mind, was a venomous barb aimed at his heart.

"Tell the guards. Double their patrols around the mansion. And I will make sure no one, not even a fly, gets near Ava without my express permission," Ibrahim spat.

Ibrahim stormed out of Samir's room. The ornate hallways of the Rahman Mansion seemed to shrink under the weight of his wrath. He descended the grand staircase and down the marble-floored hallway. His steps echoed through the vast emptiness.

Ibrahim reached the entrance hall, the opulent space bathed in the harsh glare of the noonday sun. His eyes fell on the shoe rack, a polished mahogany contraption gleaming against the marble floor. Approaching the shoe rack, he opened the door. The shelves housed an array of shoes - Aliya's elegant stilettos, Samir's practical loafers, his own collection of bespoke Italian leather, Ava's heels. His gaze scanned the rows of shoes, searching for the white sneakers Ava had worn. 

And there they were. Ibrahim snatched them up, the fabric crackling in his grasp. He couldn't have them. He couldn't have anything that Rafi had touched, anything that bore the faintest hint of Rafi. 

Leaving the mansion with purposeful strides, Ibrahim encountered the guards stationed along the driveway. The driveway was bathed in the harsh noon sun. Ibrahim barked an order, his voice raw with barely contained emotion. "Matches," he demanded.

One guard, startled by his master's vehemence, fumbled in his pocket before producing a box of matches. Ibrahim snatched it, his eyes blazing with a fire. He strode across the manicured lawn, the sneakers clutched in his fist. He reached the backyard, a haven of emerald green and vibrant flowers, a stark contrast to the storm raging within him. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the sneakers onto the grass.

Taking a deep breath, Ibrahim struck two matches against the tough strip, creating a small flame. Then he knelt down and brought the flame closer to the sneakers, igniting a small fire that crackled and sparked as it eagerly consumed the fabric. The flames grew, their orange and yellow tongues licking at the sneakers.

The air filled with the distinct smell of burning leather, a pungent scent that carried the weight of Ibrahim's anger. And the flames danced and swayed, casting mesmerizing shadows upon the ground as they devoured the sneakers with relentless fervor.

Ibrahim's remained fixed on the flickering flames. But beneath the inferno of anger, a tremor of fear lurked, a cold serpent coiling in the pit of his stomach. He, Ibrahim Rahman, prided himself on being a master of manipulation, capable of making others dance in the palm of his hand, bending them to his will, felt a tremor of fear. Not for himself, no. That was an emotion he'd banished long ago, a weakness unworthy of his ironclad will. His fear was for Ava. 

 What if this hadn't been a harmless encounter? What if Ava wasn't on a busy street? What if Rafi, fueled by vengeance and a twisted sense of justice, had snatched her away, hidden her in some dank cellar?

The image was so disturbing. Ibrahim couldn't, wouldn't bear it. He wouldn't let anyone touch what was his, not even in his nightmares. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other as a growl ripped from his throat. No. He wouldn't let it happen. Not on his watch. Rafi would pay, dearly, for daring to even glance at what belonged to him. 

Ava was his light and he would raze the world to cinders if it meant keeping her safe. The burning sneakers were testament to his vow. Rafi had awakened a new beast within Ibrahim, a primal guardian fueled by fear and possessive love. He wouldn't play Rafi's game of cat and mouse. He would rewrite the rules, unleash a storm so fierce that even the shadows would tremble. This was no longer about revenge; it was about protecting what was his, about ensuring Ava's smile remained untainted by the darkness that now pulsed within him.

Meanwhile in the bedroom, Ava emerged from the bathroom, the soft scent of soap clinging to her skin. Droplets of water dripped from her long, ebony locks, forming a glistening trail on the tiles floor. Dressed in a pair of comfortable trousers and an oversized t-shirt, she exuded a relaxed and effortless vibe.

Across the room, Tasha, the little warrior with a bandaged paw, sat regally on her velvet cushion nestled by the window and her emerald eyes fixated on something beyond the glass. Her beady eyes narrowed in concentration, her tail flicking back and forth in a slow, rhythmic dance.

"Sweetie, what are you looking at?" Ava murmured as she approached the window.

Following Tasha's gaze, Ava's eyes landed on the backyard. Ibrahim was kneeling in the sun-drenched grass, his tall figure silhouetted against the manicured lawn. But what caught her attention was the plume of black smoke rising into the air.

"Isn't your daddy handsome, Tasha?" she whispered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

However, Tasha responded with a resounding roar-like meow, a clear indication that she didn't share the same sentiment. Ibrahim, for all his heroic deeds in rescuing Tasha, held no place in the kitten's affections.

Ava, momentarily distracted, focused on the scene before her. Suddenly, a flicker of white caught her eye. In the dying embers of the fire, she recognized the charred remains of her sneakers, the same ones she had worn to the clinic. Her heart lurched, and a gasp escaped her lips, "Tasha, watch what your daddy's doing!" she exclaimed. 

Without another thought, she raced out of the room, leaving Tasha a confused meow in her wake. In less than ten seconds, Ava burst into the backyard, her eyes wide and her breath coming in ragged gasps, "What are you doing with my sneakers, Ibrahim?"

Ibrahim looked at her and rose to his feet, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly at the sight of Ava. His anger, barely banked moments ago, melted away like frost under the midday sun. There was a sense of ease and comfort that enveloped him whenever he saw Ava, as if she had a magical effect on him, dispelling all the tension.

"They were ruined, Baby Girl. I'll get you the same brand, new ones." Ibrahim told.

The flames danced, sending wisps of smoke swirling around them. "These," Ava whispered, "you got them for me in Malacca. Remember?"

The sunlight directly hit her face and Ava blinked continuously. Sensing her discomfort, Ibrahim closed the distance between them. And his shadow covered her face from the sunlight, providing her with the much-needed relief from the intense rays.

Ibrahim cupped her face, "No problem. I'll buy you more shoes, a thousand more, if that's what it takes. But I won't let you wear anything that another man has touched. No man, except me, can touch anything that belongs to you."

"Ibrahim, Isn't Rafi your friend?" Ava asked. 

Ibrahim cursed under his breath, internally berating himself for introducing Rafi as a friend infront of Ava, "Let's just say," he began, his voice strained, "we have some… business disagreements. Not friends, Ava. Not anymore."

Ava nodded slowly, "I didn't like his eyes. His gaze was...was intense. I didn't like how he was looking at me."

Ibrahim's face hardened. His hand, calloused yet gentle, traced along Ava's cheek, his thumb lingering on her soft skin. "Don't worry, Baby Girl," he promised, his voice laced with a dark undercurrent. "He won't disturb you anymore."

Ava's brow furrowed, a crease forming between her delicate eyebrows. "What do you mean, he won't disturb me now? Will you do something to Rafi?"

Ibrahim offered a lopsided smile, his brown eyes unreadable. He knew he shouldn't disclose his plans, not to Ava, not yet. His secrets were best kept buried in the shadows, away from the innocent light of her eyes. And he chose silence.

Ava, sensing his hesitation, reached out and touched his arm. "Ibrahim," she pleaded, her voice soft but firm, "you can scare him, just like you scared Daniel. Please, don't hurt anyone. I hate violence. Even Rafi didn't do anything bad with me. And I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me."

The raw purity in Ava's words tugged at Ibrahim's heartstrings. Why was she so innocent, so untouched by the harsh realities of the world he knew? Why she couldn't bear to see others in pain? Why she always sought to protect even those who may not deserve it? 

Ibrahim felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, a wave so powerful it almost overwhelmed him. He pulled her into a tight hug. His strong arms enveloped her, "Ava.... Umm.." 

But Ava cut him off, "Promise me, Ibrahim. Promise me you won't touch Rafi." 

Ibrahim sighed, a deep breath that echoed the turmoil within him. He looked into her eyes, "Alright. I promise. I won't touch Rafi."

Ava smiled and Ibrahim pulled away from the embrace, "But now come with me, baby girl." 

Ava tilted her head. "Where?"

His hand gently grasped hers, "Let me teach you how to defend yourself." With that they walked towards the mansion.