Chapter 57: The night,the dream,the suffering

The night stretched deep and endless outside Noor's estate. Rain tapped softly against the windows, a rhythmic lullaby to the silence inside.

Noor sat in the private study, bathed in the flickering glow of the fireplace. A book lay open on her lap, her fingers resting lightly against the pages.

But she wasn't reading.

She hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes.

A slow creak of the door broke the quiet.

Noor didn't look up. "Manners are dead, I see."

Zeyla chuckled, stepping inside. "You'd know, wouldn't you?"

Noor finally glanced up, arching a brow. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Zeyla shut the door behind her, strolling toward the liquor cabinet like she owned the place. "I figured someone should check on our dear queen of indifference."

She poured herself a glass of wine, swirling the liquid lazily. "After all, you did just toss your most loyal dog into the dungeon. That would rattle most people."

Noor's lips twitched. "I'm not most people."

Zeyla grinned, turning toward her. "Oh, I know." She took a slow sip. "But I do wonder… was it anger that made you choke him out like a ragdoll?"

Noor's gaze didn't waver. "Should it matter?"

Zeyla tilted her head, amused. "Not to me. But I imagine it matters to him."

Noor exhaled softly. "Heath made his choice."

Zeyla chuckled. "They always make the same choice."

Noor's fingers twitched slightly against the armrest.

Zeyla noticed. Of course she did.

She stepped closer, her wine glass catching the firelight. "Men like Heath. Men like—" she waved a hand vaguely "—Sanlang. They always believe they're different, don't they?"

Noor said nothing.

Zeyla smirked. "And yet, they all break the same way."

Noor leaned back against the chair. "Is there a point to this conversation, or are you just here to waste my time?"

Zeyla's smirk widened. "Oh, My Lady.You are the most interesting waste of time."

Noor's expression didn't change.

But Zeyla could see the slight shift in her shoulders.

She took another sip of wine. "Speaking of wasted time…" She dragged the words out playfully. "Sanlang's still here."

Noor didn't react.

Zeyla sighed dramatically. "Honestly, it's almost tragic. Watching a man with everything in the world at his feet… and yet, he chooses to kneel before you instead."

She smiled over the rim of her glass. "You must feel so powerful."

Noor exhaled through her nose. "Spare me the theatrics."

Zeyla grinned. "But I love theatrics."

She set her glass down and stepped closer, just enough to invade Noor's space.

"You could send him away, you know," she mused, tilting her head. "End this little game before he falls any deeper."

Noor's lips parted slightly—just for a second.

Zeyla caught it.

Her smirk sharpened.

"Ah." She let out a low chuckle. "But you don't want him to leave, do you?"

Noor's gaze darkened. "Careful, Zeyla."

Zeyla leaned in slightly.

The air shifted.

A tension so sharp, it could cut.

For the first time, Noor actually looked… dangerous.

Zeyla met her gaze, unaffected.

"Now, now," she murmured, tilting her head. "No need to glare. I'm simply pointing out the obvious."

She stepped back, stretching her arms lazily. "Sanlang isn't going anywhere, Madam . And we both know why."

Noor finally stood, smooth, controlled, deliberate. "Then tell me, Zeyla," she murmured, voice velvet-wrapped steel.

Zeyla's smile was slow, knowing.

"Because you let him be."

Silence.

Noor didn't move.

Zeyla leaned in, voice dropping lower. "Because despite all your cold warnings and sharp edges…"

She ran a finger along the rim of her glass, watching Noor's face carefully.

"…you don't want him to leave."

Noor's expression was unreadable.

But Zeyla knew she had landed the blade exactly where she wanted it.

She picked up her glass again, stepping toward the door.

As she reached it, she paused.

Glanced back.

Her smirk softened slightly. "You can lie to yourself all you want."

She took a sip of wine. "But the rest of us? We're just waiting for the day you finally stop."

Then—she was gone.

Noor stood there, staring at the empty doorway.

Her chest felt tight.

She exhaled, pressing a hand to the edge of her desk.

Then—slowly—she turned toward the window.

And there he was.

Sanlang.

Standing just beyond the garden, bathed in the glow of the moonlight.

Watching.

Waiting.

His dark gaze was steady, unwavering.

Noor inhaled slowly." Only if you knew the truth zeyla."

---

Noor didn't move.

She should have shut the curtains, turned away, ignored the man standing outside in the dark like he belonged there.

But she didn't.

Sanlang stood just beyond the garden, his silhouette bathed in silver moonlight.

Waiting.

Watching.

Noor exhaled sharply and turned away.

A knock at the door.

Soft. Steady.

Her throat tightened. She already knew who it was.

Still, she pulled the door open.

Sanlang stood there, his white dress shirt undone at the top, sleeves rolled up, dark gaze dragging over her in slow, deliberate strokes.

His lips curled slightly. "I thought you'd pretend not to be here."

Noor arched a brow. "I considered it."

Sanlang let out a quiet hum and stepped inside.

He reached behind him, shut the door—and locked it.

Noor's pulse flickered, but she didn't move.

Sanlang exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "You should tell me to leave."

Noor folded her arms. "I already did."

Sanlang took another step forward.

"You said I was wasting my time," he murmured, voice deep, lazy, like he had all the time in the world to break her apart."That's not the same thing."

Noor clenched her jaw.

Sanlang smiled. "You never actually told me to leave."

He moved closer, slow and measured, the heat of his body just close enough to make her breath hitch.

Noor tilted her chin up. "You think this is a game?"

Sanlang let out a quiet chuckle. "I think you like playing."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't—"

Sanlang raised a hand.

Not to touch her.

Just to watch her flinch in anticipation.

Noor stilled, hating herself for the way her breath caught.

Sanlang saw it.

His smile sharpened.

"You don't, hm?" he murmured.

His hand lowered—and then he touched her.

Not gentle. Not polite.

He curled his fingers around her waist, palm pressing flat against the silk of her robe. Firm. Possessive.

Noor sucked in a breath.

Sanlang leaned in, his voice brushing against her skin. "Tell me to stop."

Noor exhaled. "Sanlang—"

His grip *tightened.

Noor's stomach twisted, heat curling low and deep.

Sanlang hummed, his thumb stroking once—just once—against the fabric, barely a touch, but enough.

Noor's lips parted, her mind screaming at her to step back, to shove him away, to not let him win.

But she didn't move.

Sanlang's voice dipped lower. "You're not saying it."

Noor clenched her fists. "Because you don't listen."

Sanlang laughed.

Low, dark.

His other hand lifted, fingers trailing up her throat, slow and deliberate.

Just enough for her to feel his warmth, his control, his patience.

Noor's breath shuddered.

Sanlang leaned in, his lips brushing just below her ear. "Then maybe," he murmured, "you should stop pretending you don't want this."

Noor's entire body burned.

Her pulse pounded against his palm.

Sanlang smiled against her skin. "See?"

Noor's grip tightened at her sides, her nails digging into her own palms.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

And he knew it.

His fingers dragged lower, skimming down her ribs, pressing just hard enough to make her gasp.

He stopped at her hip.

Noor hated the way her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch.

Sanlang hummed, voice mocking."I think you like this."

Noor's lips parted. "I think you talk too much."

Sanlang chuckled. "I think," he said, gripping her hip hard enough to pull her flush against him, "you like hearing me talk."

Noor's breath hitched.

Because now—now she could feel every inch of him.

Warm. Solid. Unshaken.

Sanlang tilted his head, watching her.

Waiting.

She should push him away.

But her hands lifted instead—curling into his shirt, twisting the fabric in her fists.

Sanlang's smile turned slow. Dangerous.

Noor's throat was so dry.

He leaned in, lips hovering over hers.

Just letting her feel the warmth of his breath, the heat of his patience.

She was losing.

Sanlang exhaled softly, gaze dark. "Tell me, Noor."

Noor inhaled sharply. "Tell you what?"

Sanlang smirked,lowering his mouth to her throat.

Just pressing his lips there.

Firm. Hot. Sinful.

Noor shuddered.

Sanlang's fingers dug into her hip."Tell me to stop."

Noor's nails pressed into his chest.

She opened her mouth.

She had to say it.

But her entire body betrayed her.

She didn't.

Sanlang smiled against her skin.

"Liar."

Noor's pulse snapped.

Sanlang grabbed her harder, right where he shouldn't, forcing a sharp gasp from her lips.

His grip possessive. Claiming.

Noor's breath shattered.

Sanlang exhaled against her neck, his voice all heat and silk.

"Say my name."

Noor's nails scraped against his chest.

Sanlang hummed. "Just once."

Her pulse was everywhere.

Sanlang's lips ghosted over her jaw. "Say it, Noor."

Noor's control snapped.

She yanked him closer, her breath a ragged mess.

But just before she could—

Sanlang pulled away.

Noor's head spun.

Sanlang smirked, his grip loosening.

Then—he let her go.

Completely.

Noor staggered back, furious.

Sanlang laughed.

Low. Dark. Wrecking.

Then—he turned, unlocked the door, and walked out.

Noor exhaled, pressing a shaking hand to her lips.

Her heart was still racing.

She turned to the window.

Sanlang's car was finally moving , be was leaving. But the remnants of his touch were still hot on her skin.

____

Sanlang's hands tightened around the steering wheel as the conversation played on repeat in his head, each word cutting deeper than it should.

"You shouldn't be here."

Maya's voice had been dry, unimpressed, as she stood at the top of the grand staircase. Arms crossed. Expression flat.

Sanlang gave her an easy smirk. "And yet, here I am. Isn't life funny like that?"

Maya didn't flinch. "No, life isn't funny. You just have a habit of showing up where you're least wanted."

"Least wanted?" Sanlang feigned offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "Ouch, Maya. That almost hurt."

"It was supposed to," she deadpanned.

Sanlang exhaled sharply, letting the smirk slip for a second. "Look, I didn't come here to argue with you."

Maya arched a brow. "That's a first."

He rolled his eyes. "I came to see Noor."

"Of course, you did," she muttered, shaking her head. "Because what she really needs right now is a clingy celebrity showing up at her doorstep uninvited."

"Clingy?!" He let out a laugh. "Maya, sweetheart, do I look like a man who needs to chase after anyone?"

"Then leave."

The laughter died in his throat. He shoved his hands into his pockets, tilting his head at her. "Can't."

Maya sighed, rubbing her temples like he was a particularly annoying headache. "Why? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

Sanlang scoffed. "Doing what, exactly? Showing concern? Trying to understand why the woman I—" He stopped himself.

Maya's gaze sharpened. "The woman you what, Sanlang?"

Silence.

He turned his head slightly, gaze flickering toward the long, dim hallway that led to Noor's quarters.

Maya exhaled. "She doesn't want to see you."

That hit harder than it should have.

Sanlang let out a short, bitter laugh. "Right. And she told you this, did she?"

Maya hesitated. "She doesn't have to."

Sanlang's jaw tightened. "So that's it? I'm supposed to just disappear because you say so?"

"No, you're supposed to disappear because she wants you to."

Sanlang scoffed, pacing now. "Unbelievable. You know, Maya, for someone who acts like she knows everything, you're missing a very crucial point."

"Oh? Do enlighten me."

He turned on his heel, stepping closer. "If Noor really wanted me gone, She wouldn't need you playing bodyguard."

Maya's eyes flashed. "You think she hasn't tried?"

That made him pause.

Maya pressed on. "You think she doesn't spend every waking moment trying to keep you at a distance? Do you think it's easy for her?"

Sanlang narrowed his eyes. "If it's so hard, why does she keep running?"

Maya sighed, looking at him like he was impossibly dense. "Because she's scared."

He let out a hollow chuckle. "Noor? Scared?"

Maya nodded. "Terrified."

The weight of that word settled between them, heavy and unshakable.

Sanlang crossed his arms. "Of what? Me?"

Maya shook her head. "Of feeling something."

Silence.

His throat tightened. " What do you mean?"

Maya exhaled, looking almost… sad. "She's not as strong as she seems, Sanlang."

He swallowed hard, voice quieter now. "I know."

Maya studied his face for a long moment. "Do you?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he turned toward the hallway one last time.

Maya's voice followed him. "Be patient, Sanlang."

He paused at the door, fingers tightening around the handle. "I don't know if I can."

Maya smiled faintly. "Then learn. Because she's worth it."

---

Now, as he drove through the quiet streets, Sanlang exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Damn her.

They were right.

And yet, knowing the truth didn't make it any easier. Because Noor could push him away all she wanted.

But no matter how far he went, he already knew—

He'd always find his way back to her.

__________

The night stretched long and solemn, its velvet darkness draped over the world like a mourning shroud. Sanlang's car sped through the empty streets, the engine's hum a mere whisper against the howling wind. His knuckles whitened around the wheel, his jaw set tight in frustration.

He should leave. He must leave.

And yet…

No matter how far he drove, no matter how fiercely he commanded his heart to obey reason, the pull remained. A silent voice within him, ancient and relentless, murmured a truth he refused to face—he could not stay away.

He slammed the brakes. The tires screeched against the pavement, the car jolting to a halt. His breath came ragged, his chest rising and falling with the weight of unspoken words.

"Fool," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. "A thousand fools live in this world, but none greater than I."

A bitter laugh escaped him. He had once been master of his own will, sovereign over his desires. But Noor—Noor had unraveled him thread by thread, until nothing of his former self remained.

A moment passed. Then another.

And then, with a sharp turn of the wheel, he surrendered.

His car roared back toward the estate, cutting through the night like an arrow loosed from an archer's bow.

---

The gates parted before him, silent sentinels to his madness. The estate was still, its grandeur cloaked in midnight's embrace. His footsteps rang against the marble floors as he strode forward, past the watchful eyes of the staff.

Maya emerged from the shadows, her expression unreadable. She had expected this. Perhaps she had even counted the seconds until his return.

"You should not be here," she murmured, though there was no conviction in her voice.

Sanlang did not slow his pace. "And yet, here I stand."

Maya exhaled, crossing her arms. "If she wished for company, she would have summoned it."

He paused at that, a flicker of hesitation in his gaze. "Then let her tell me so."

Silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn bow. Finally, with a knowing sigh, Maya stepped aside.

"Do not linger long," she warned. "The night is cruel to those who dare to dream."

Sanlang scoffed, his jaw tightening. "You think I have a choice?"

Maya's expression softened—just a fraction. "You always have a choice, Sanlang."

He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Not when it comes to her."

Maya studied him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she stepped aside. "Do what you want. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Sanlang didn't hesitate. He strode past her, straight toward Noor's private study.

---

The door loomed before him, an unmoving guardian of secrets unspoken. He lifted his hand, hesitating but for a breath, then pushed it open.

Moonlight spilled into the room, casting silver halos upon the floor. The air carried the scent of jasmine, thick and intoxicating, weaving around him like a spell.

And there, in the heart of it all, Noor knelt in prostration, her forehead pressed to the ground in devotion.

Sanlang froze.

The sight of her—so still, so reverent—stole the very breath from his lungs.

The fabric of her silk dress pooled around her, dark as the night itself. Strands of her hair slipped free from their bindings, cascading over her shoulders like rivers of ink. The moonlight kissed her skin, turning her into something ethereal, something unearthly.

A goddess in worship. A warrior in surrender.

Something in his chest tightened, a pain so sharp it left him winded. He could not speak, could not move.

She had not noticed him. Or perhaps she had, and simply chose to ignore his intrusion.

The minutes stretched, the silence between them a living thing.

And then, slowly, Noor rose.

She did not look at him at first. Her gaze remained downcast, fingers tightening around the prayer beads in her hand. Only when she had taken a steadying breath did she lift her head.

Her eyes met his.

Something unspoken passed between them—something raw, something forbidden.

Sanlang felt his resolve slip through his fingers like sand.

"Why have you come?" Noor's voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unasked questions.

Sanlang stepped forward, drawn to her as the tide is drawn to the moon. "Would you believe me if I said I did not know?"

A shadow of a smile ghosted her lips, fleeting as a passing breeze. "I would believe you, for I do not know myself."

She turned from him then, walking toward the open window. The wind played with the hem of her dress, lifting it ever so slightly.

Sanlang followed, unable to resist. "Tell me to leave," he said, his voice a whisper of a challenge. "And I will."

Noor did not answer.

Instead, she reached out, fingers brushing against the windowsill. "The night is heavy," she murmured. "It presses upon the soul, demanding answers we are not yet ready to give."

Sanlang exhaled sharply. "Then let us give none."

She turned to him, eyes searching. "Is that what you wish?"

"No," he admitted, his voice thick with something dangerous. "I wish for truth."

A pause.

And then Noor tilted her head ever so slightly, studying him as one studies an unsolvable riddle.

"Truth," she echoed. "You are not ready for it."

Sanlang took another step, closing the space between them. He was close enough now to see the pulse at her throat, to feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

"Try me."

Noor did not flinch, did not waver. But her fingers, ever so slightly, curled into her palm.

A battle waged within her—a war between what was right and what was inevitable.

And Sanlang… Sanlang waited.

Would she send him away?

The night held its breath.

Noor glided toward the balcony, her silk dress whispering against the marble floor. The fabric caught the faint glow of the moon, turning it into liquid silver that draped over her form like an ethereal shroud. With each step, the night seemed to still, the world holding its breath as if afraid to disturb her. When she reached the edge, Noor paused, her slender fingers tracing the cold stone railing as she tilted her head upward, her gaze locked onto the full moon that hung low in the sky.

The flute in her hands was more than an instrument—it was an extension of her soul. She lifted it to her lips, and the first note floated into the air.The melody wove itself into the fabric of the night, wrapping around the trees, the stars, and the very air itself.

Sanlang stood behind her, silent, watching. The Noor before him wasn't the woman he had known—no, she was something else entirely. The warmth in her eyes had been replaced by something distant, something unreachable. She was there, and yet, she wasn't.

The tune she played was achingly familiar, a melody he couldn't place yet felt in his bones. It spoke of lost things—of , of longing, of something broken beyond repair. Each note sent ripples through his mind, awakening shadows of memories that refused to take shape.

He stepped closer, unable to help himself. "Noor…" His voice was quiet, reverent.

She didn't stop playing. She didn't even look at him.

Sanlang clenched his fists. He wanted to touch her, to pull her from whatever abyss she had fallen into, but something in the air warned him not to. He had never feared Noor before, but tonight, she felt different, dangerous.

He swallowed hard. "Is this… pain?" he murmured, unsure if he was asking her or himself.

________

Maya and Zeyla stood at a distance, watching from the corridor. The haunting melody sent chills down Maya's spine. She had heard Noor play like this before—but not with this kind of raw, aching sorrow.

Zeyla exhaled sharply, arms crossed over her chest. "She only plays like this when she's drowning in something she won't speak of."

Maya bit her lip. "Then why doesn't she say anything? Why can't she just…..?" Her voice was tinged with frustration.

Zeyla's gaze remained locked on their master. "Because some things can't be spoken, Maya. Some things can only be felt."

Maya clenched her fists. "Sanlang… he didn't even ask her anything. He just stood there. Why?"

Zeyla's expression was unreadable. "Because he understands."

Maya turned to her sharply. "Understands what?"

Zeyla finally looked at her but thought to herself."That he is a part of her sorrow. That whatever pain she carries, he is tied to it." She let out a slow breath as she spoke. "And maybe… maybe he has already lost her or perhaps he doesn't want to lose her ."

Maya's heart pounded. The thought unsettled her. The way Sanlang looked at Noor, the way he accepted everything without question—what was it?

The flute's melody lingered in the air, a ghostly presence that neither Maya nor Zeyla could escape.

Zeyla shook her head. "It's terrifying, isn't it? The way she plays… It's like she's calling something back to her. Or maybe… she's trying to let something go."

Maya hugged herself. "Do you think she'll ever tell us?"

Zeyla's lips curled into something bitter, something sad. "No. She'll carry it alone. Just like she always has."

The melody rose once more, piercing through the silence of the night.

And Sanlang closed his eyes, his heart aching with a truth he couldn't yet grasp.

_______

Sanlang's footsteps were slow, deliberate as he walked away from the estate, the weight of something inexplicable pressing against his chest. The melody lingered in his mind, refusing to fade, curling around his thoughts like tendrils of a dream half-remembered.

He had never heard that tune before. He was sure of it. And yet…

Why did it feel like a memory?

The way the notes rose and fell—it wasn't just music. It was something else. Something older than the night itself. Something carved into the marrow of his bones.

A chill crept up his spine. His fingers twitched at his sides, his body responding to something his mind couldn't grasp. What is this? The question echoed in the silence of his thoughts, but no answer came.

Sanlang exhaled, rubbing his temple. His pulse was steady, yet his soul felt restless, like it was searching for something it couldn't name.

Whenever I was apart from her, I ached for her—her presence, her voice, the mere thought of her. That hunger was relentless, consuming. But tonight when I held her in my arms… tonight was different.

He recalled the way Noor had leaned against him, her head resting so lightly on his shoulder, as if she had done it a thousand times before. The warmth of her breath against his skin. The weight of her silence. It hadn't felt unfamiliar. It hadn't felt like something new.

It had felt like home.

His throat tightened.

The scent of night-blooming jasmine drifted through the air, and for a fleeting moment, an image flickered in his mind—Noor, wrapped in silver moonlight, standing beneath an old tree heavy with white flowers. The vision was so vivid, so real, that he nearly turned back toward the estate, expecting to see her standing there.

But she wasn't.

The moment passed, slipping through his grasp like sand.

Sanlang let out a slow, measured breath. He didn't understand this feeling—this sense of knowing something he had no memory of. But one thing was certain.

The melody Noor played tonight—it wasn't just a song.

It was a call.

And somehow, some way, it had always belonged to him.