Zoya sat by the window, her fingers trembling as she held the small, hidden phone Nida had slipped to her. It was risky using it again, but the ache in her chest didn’t let her rest. She needed something—anything—that reminded her she wasn’t alone.

She opened her gallery.

Her thumb paused over a photo. It wasn’t posed. Just a moment caught after that college performance — her laughing, hair flying, and Akif looking at her like she was all the world’s chaos and calm combined. That gaze… steady, proud, protective.

She brought the phone close, her eyes stinging.

But then—

A creak.

Zoya’s heart jumped.

Before she could react, her eldest brother barged into the room. "What’s that?" he demanded.

Zoya scrambled to hide the phone under her pillow.

But he had already seen enough.

He lunged forward and snatched it. Her breath caught as he unlocked it and saw the image glowing on the screen. His face darkened.

"WHO is this?" he growled.

"Give it back!" Zoya screamed, rushing toward him, but he shoved her away.

"A boy?! You’re still in contact with him? You’ve betrayed us again?!"

"I love him!" she yelled, louder than she ever had in this house.

The silence was instant.

Even he was stunned.

Zoya’s chest heaved, her hands clenched. "Yes. I love him. I ran away because I was dying here! I found a new life, people who actually love me! You think dragging me back will fix everything? It’s already broken!"

His eyes flared with rage. “You’re forbidden from ever seeing him again!”

"You can lock me in this room, destroy this phone, scream all you want!" she cried. “But you cannot erase what he means to me!”

Her brother threw the phone to the floor. It shattered.

Zoya froze, watching the last piece of Akif vanish into glass.

"You’ve humiliated us enough," he said coldly. "Now we’ll make sure you’re never able to again."

And he walked out.

The lock clicked behind him.

Zoya collapsed to the floor, tears spilling freely, her voice breaking into sobs. She wasn’t crying because of the shattered phone — she was crying because she had tasted freedom once… and now it had been torn away again.

But even through the tears, she whispered into the silence, “He’ll come. I know he will.”

She didn’t need the photo.

She had memorized his eyes, his voice, his promises.

And she would hold onto them until he returned.

---