Chapter 77: When the light watches
The café was warm, filled with the rich scent of coffee and baked bread.
And yet, for Sanlang, it felt like the walls were closing in.
Across from him, Noor sat, silent and composed, her fingers resting lightly against the rim of her teacup. She hadn't spoken, hadn't even acknowledged the battle happening in front of her.
But everyone felt it.
And Yilan?
Yilan, still blissfully ignorant, leaned closer to Sanlang, draping an arm over his shoulder like she owned him. "You know," she purred, her voice dripping with intent, "Sanlang and I have been spending so much time together lately."
A pause. A glance.
She was testing Noor.
Sanlang felt his stomach drop.
Nothing.
Noor didn't blink. Didn't move.
Yilan, sensing no reaction, pushed further.
"In fact," she added, patting Sanlang's arm possessively, "I was just thinking how perfect we are for each other."
Sanlang physically stiffened.
He knew better.
He knew that Noor's silence meant something. That the storm was already forming.
And yet, Yilan kept talking.
"You know," she went on, oblivious to the blade hovering over her throat, "Sanlang and I have been through so much together. But I think Leyla here would make a perfect match for him, don't you?"
Nothing.
Noor didn't react.
Sanlang, however, was already sweating.
Before he could stop himself, his patience snapped.
He carefully but firmly removed Yilan's hand from his shoulder and stood up.
"Yilan, stop it."
His voice was sharp. Unforgiving.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Yilan blinked. This wasn't like him. Sanlang was never this cold with her.
"I'm just trying to help you," she huffed. "You've been so distracted lately. I thought you needed a little fun—"
"Fun?" Sanlang's voice had weight now. "Yilan, this isn't some game."
And then, because he was already in too deep, he dropped the bomb.
"This," he gestured toward Noor, the single most dangerous woman in the room, "is not just some random woman.
She's Noor.
Noor Al-Azraq."
Silence.
A beat.
Then—
Yilan's smirk vanished.
Her face drained of color.
Sanlang had never seen her shut up this fast.
For three long seconds, she just stared. Processing.
Then—her hand gripped the edge of the table, like she might actually fall over.
And then it hit her.
Her father's voice.
Echoing through her mind.
> "There are people in this world, Yilan, whom you do not cross."
"There are people who don't need to raise their voice to destroy you."
"There is a woman, holding the name of the light, who could take away everything we have with a stroke of a pen."
"If you ever meet her—bow your head, be silent, and do not speak unless spoken to."
Her father had warned her.
But she had never understood why.
Until now.
Until Noor lifted her gaze and finally looked at her.
And Yilan?
Yilan felt something go cold inside her.
Like she had just been sentenced to death.
"You overestimate your worth."
The words cut deeper than a knife.
Maya covered her mouth, barely containing a laugh.
Zeyla let out a low whistle. "Ohh, that was ugly."
Sanlang looked like he had been physically punched.
But Yilan?
Yilan was frozen.
Noor had said it so easily. So carelessly.
As if Yilan wasn't even an opponent worth acknowledging.
As if Noor had just brushed dust off her sleeve.
She wanted to speak. She needed to fix this.
So, she laughed. A nervous, awkward sound. "Oh, well, obviously I knew who you were, Noor! I just didn't think you were that Noor."
Maya exhaled through her nose, amused. "You're making it worse."
Yilan ignored her, still trying to salvage herself.
But then—
She remembered what happened to her father.
The night everything changed.
Their company had been on the brink of collapse.
Her father had been desperate. Helpless.
And then, the next morning—it was saved.
But when she had asked him how,
He had simply stared at her.
A man who had been untouchable, fearless, brutal in business.
And yet, he had looked terrified.
"Do not ask."
"Do not speak of it."
"Do not ever, ever let Noor Al-Azraq set her eyes on you."
Yilan had laughed it off back then. Thought he was just being dramatic.
But now?
Now, Noor was looking at her.
And Yilan understood.
And she was afraid.
So she did the only thing her mind could grasp at.
She tried to fix it.
"Well, since we're all here, why don't you join us at Sanlang's penthouse later?" she blurted out, her voice a little too high, a little too desperate.
Sanlang's blood ran cold.
NO. NO. SHE DID NOT JUST—
But Noor was already tilting her head slightly, as if considering.
And then—
"Perhaps I will."
Dead silence.
Maya and Zeyla both flinched.
Sanlang forgot how to function.
Yilan blinked rapidly. "W-Wait… really?"
Noor took another slow sip of tea. "You seem eager," she said lightly.
Zeyla coughed. "Oh my GOD."
Maya turned her head slowly toward Noor, horrified. "Madame… what are you doing?"
Noor didn't answer.
Sanlang's heart was pounding.
Noor. At my penthouse. Noor. In my space.
Maya leaned into him, her voice so low only he could hear.
"Should I have the bed prepared?"
Sanlang FULLY CHOKED.
Noor stood up.
The moment she moved, Yilan actually shrank back.
Sanlang felt his whole world tilting.
Noor didn't look at Yilan. Didn't give her a second glance.
Instead, she turned to Sanlang.
And for the first time all night—he saw something in her eyes.
Not warmth.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Finality.
"See you tonight," Noor said softly.
Then she walked away.
And Yilan?
Yilan sat there, gripping the table, breathing too fast, feeling like she had just survived something she wasn't even meant to witness.
---
The café was silent.
Noor was gone.
But she had left something behind.
A shadow.
Not a real one. But something thick, heavy, suffocating.
Yilan sat still, her hands gripping the table, feeling like she had just walked out of a wreckage she didn't even see coming.
Across from her, Sanlang wasn't moving either. His hands were still curled into fists. His jaw was still locked.
Maya and Zeyla? They weren't laughing anymore.
No one was.
Because Noor's absence wasn't relief.
It was worse.
It felt like the moment after a noose has been tightened.
And that was when it happened.
The memory.
The night Yilan should have lost everything.
---
Years Ago…
Her father had always been a powerful man.
Untouchable. Cold. Fearless.
But that night?
That was the night she saw him break.
Their company had been bleeding out.
Every investor had pulled out.
The banks had refused them.
The stock had plummeted beyond saving.
Their empire was in free fall.
And Yilan had found her father sitting at his desk, staring at his phone, his face ashen.
"Dad?"
He hadn't looked at her. Hadn't answered.
His hand gripped his glass of whiskey so tight she thought it might shatter.
She had never seen him like that before.
But then—
The next morning, everything was fine.
No.
Not just fine.
It was untouched. The crisis was gone.
The stocks had stabilized.
The banks had approved their loans.
The investors had come crawling back.
As if nothing had ever happened.
She had run to her father's office, laughing.
"Dad! What did you do?! How did you fix it?"
And that was when he finally looked at her.
And she saw it.
Fear.
Not relief. Not victory.
Something raw. Hollow. Terrified.
"We don't speak of this." His voice had been flat.
"Don't ask me again."
"And Yilan—"
She had never forgotten the way his hands shook when he said it.
"If Noor Al-Azraq ever looks at you directly—"
"You've already lost."
---
Back to Present: The Café
Yilan's breath hitched.
No.
No, no, no.
Her father had been paranoid.
Right?
Right?
But now…
Now, she could still feel Noor's gaze on her skin.
She looked at the spot Noor had just been sitting, but it was empty now.
And yet, it didn't feel empty.
The air still felt thick. Like something had settled over the space.
Like something had been decided.
Yilan's hands were ice cold.
Her body was too tense, too rigid.
She wanted to move, wanted to shake this feeling off, wanted to go back to the ignorance she had lived in five minutes ago.
But she couldn't.
Because now?
She understood.
Her father hadn't been warning her about business.
He had been warning her about something else.
And she had walked right into it.
She had mocked Noor.
Yilan's stomach twisted.
That was the part she couldn't shake.
Noor had let her.
Had watched her talk, had let her perform her little act.
And only when she was done…
Only when…
Had Noor decided to acknowledge her.
That meant Noor had never been challenged.
She had already won.
She had been waiting for Yilan to realize it.
And now?
Now Yilan was sitting in the aftermath, remembering her father's shaking hands.
Remembering how he had changed after that night.
How he had never spoken Noor's name again.
And suddenly—
She knew why.
Because he had understood something Yilan was just now realizing.
It wasn't about what Noor did.
It was about what she could do.
And what she chose not to.
And Yilan?
Yilan had just put herself in the category of people Noor notices.
People Noor watches.
She needed to leave.
But her legs wouldn't move.
Because a thought had just settled in her mind, and it was worse than anything else.
Noor had accepted her invitation.
Noor was going to the penthouse.
Yilan didn't want to be there.Because she knew what she______
Sanlang was still standing at the door.
Still gripping the frame.
But the world had tilted, just slightly.
Like a dream that had gone on too long.
Like something was peeling away.
"It won't hurt this time."
Sanlang exhaled slowly.
That wasn't a thought.
It wasn't even a voice.
It was a memory.
But a memory of what?
"The sky is the wrong color today."
His pulse slowed.
"She never bleeds, you know."
His breath hitched.
No.
No, this wasn't real.
"But you do."
The words curled at the edges of his mind like a hand pressing against glass.
A whisper that wasn't asking to be let in.
It was waiting for him to realize—
It was already inside.
Sanlang's grip tightened.
His nails dug into the wood.
The warmth of the café was fading.
Noor had walked away, and yet her absence was speaking.
No—something else was speaking.
"You were always meant to follow."
Sanlang's breath came too slow.
"The first time you met her, you forgot your own name."
His chest tightened.
"The last time, she forgot yours."
Sanlang's vision blurred for a second.
His hands felt wet.
He looked down.
Nothing.
Just his own skin.
But for half a second, something had been there.
Something dark.
Something red.
"She never bleeds, you know."
He inhaled sharply.
His body was waiting.
For what?
He didn't know.
But the whisper did.
"The road back is gone."
His breath hitched.
"You should have left sooner."
A hand grabbed his wrist.
Warm. Human.
The world lurched back into place.
Sanlang gasped.
Too sharp. Too violent.
The café was still here.
Like she had just seen something she wasn't meant to see.
Like she was about to say something—
And then decided against it.
Her fingers tightened around his wrist.
"Sanlang," she said, low and careful. Measured.
Sanlang exhaled slowly.
She looked like, had seen something inside him shift.
Her fingers tightened around his wrist.
"Sanlang," she said, low and careful. Measured.
"What is going on with you?"
Sanlang inhaled slowly.
"Nothing," he lied.
Yilan's grip didn't loosen.
She was still watching him.
Sanlang exhaled, shaking her off.
But as he turned away—
The whisper returned.
Soft. Gentle.
Like a lullaby sung from the bottom of the ocean.
"The road back is gone."
A pause.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
A memory that never was.
"But you already knew that."
Sanlang's hands curled into fists.
The air was still. Too still.
And then—
A flicker in the café window.
His own reflection.
Slightly delayed.
"She is waiting."
Sanlang's breath hitched.
A quiet laugh—his own, but not quite.
"You never really wanted to leave, did you?"
His pulse hammered against his skull.
No.
No, that wasn't true.
…Was it?
"It always ends like this."
The lights in the café flickered—just once.
Sanlang's body felt heavy.
Too heavy.
And just as he let out a slow, shuddering breath—
The last whisper came.
"She never bleeds, you know."
Sanlang stopped breathing.
And deep, deep inside himself—
He finally said to himself _____