Chapter 8: The Kidnapping

The day of the wedding had finally arrived, and Murad's anxiety was at an all-time high. He had been planning this moment for weeks, rehearsing every detail in his mind. He knew it was a risk, but he was convinced that this was the only way to make Dr. Maryam see him, to make her realize that he was the one she truly loved.

As he watched Dr. Maryam walk down the aisle, her white wedding dress shimmering in the sunlight, Murad's heart skipped a beat. He felt a pang of jealousy, seeing her smile at her fiancé, but he pushed the feeling aside. This was his moment, and he was determined to seize it.

Murad waited until the ceremony was almost over, until the priest was about to pronounce the couple husband and wife. Then, he made his move. He slipped out of his seat and made a beeline for Dr. Maryam, his eyes locked on hers.

The guests gasped in shock as Murad grabbed Dr. Maryam's arm, pulling her away from her fiancé. The ceremony erupted into chaos, with people screaming and trying to intervene. Murad's father, who had been sitting in the front row, leapt to his feet, his face red with rage.

"Murad, stop this!" he shouted, but Murad was beyond reason.

Dr. Maryam struggled against Murad's grip, her eyes wide with fear. "Murad, let me go!" she pleaded, but Murad just pulled her closer, his grip tightening.

The guests tried to intervene, but Murad was too strong. He dragged Dr. Maryam out of the church, the sound of screams and shouting fading into the distance.

As they emerged into the bright sunlight, Murad's heart was racing. He had done it. He had finally taken matters into his own hands.

But as he looked into Dr. Maryam's terrified eyes, he felt a pang of doubt. Had he gone too far? Had he crossed a line that could never be uncrossed?

Dr. Maryam's voice was shaking as she spoke. "Murad, please. Let me go. This isn't right."

Murad's grip on her arm tightened. "You don't understand," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I love you, Dr. Maryam. I've always loved you. And I know you love me too."

Dr. Maryam's eyes filled with tears. "Murad, I care about you as a patient, but I don't love you. Not in the way you want me to."

Murad's face twisted in anguish. "You're just saying that because you're scared," he said, his voice rising. "But I know the truth. I know you feel the same way."

As they stood there, locked in a desperate struggle, the sound of sirens echoed through the air. The police had arrived, responding to the frantic calls from the wedding guests.

Murad's eyes darted wildly around, searching for an escape route. But it was too late. The police closed in, surrounding him and Dr. Maryam.

"Let her go, Murad," one of the officers said, his voice firm but calm.

Murad hesitated, his grip on Dr. Maryam's arm tightening. But as he looked into her eyes, he saw something there that gave him pause. It was a look of sadness, of concern, but also of compassion.

Slowly, Murad's grip relaxed, and Dr. Maryam was able to pull away. The police moved in, cuffing Murad and reading him his rights.

As they led him away, Murad caught a glimpse of Dr. Maryam's face. She was shaken, but she was also looking at him with a deep sadness. It was a look that said, "I'm sorry, Murad. I'm sorry it had to end like this."

Murad's heart broke, and he felt a wave of despair wash over him. He had lost. He had lost the one person he loved, and he had lost himself in the process.

As he was dragged away, Murad knew that he had crossed a line. He had crossed a line into madness, into obsession, and into darkness. And he didn't know if he would ever be able to find his way back.