escape
Haider stood at the center of the room like an unmovable wall.
Khalid felt it before he fully understood it—the shift in the air, the quiet finality settling into his chest. His grandfather’s presence had always carried weight, but tonight it pressed down harder, stealing space, stealing breath.
Haider’s gaze moved slowly, deliberately, as though he were taking inventory of everything Khalid still owned.
Including his freedom.
“Your phone,” Haider said.
The words were calm. Too calm.
Khalid’s fingers tightened instinctively around the device in his hand. His pulse jumped, loud in his ears. For a moment, he thought of Nahla—what she might be doing, whether she was waiting for his call, whether she felt the same tightening in her chest at this very second.
“No,” Khalid said before he could stop himself.
The word echoed. Small, defiant.
Haider’s eyes lifted to his face.
“Give it to me.”
Something sharp flickered inside Khalid—anger, fear, desperation tangled together. “You can’t take everything from me,” he said, his voice strained. “You’ve already—”
Haider raised a single hand.
Two guards stepped forward instantly.
Khalid backed away a step. “Don’t touch me.”
One of them reached for his wrist. Firm. Unyielding. The phone slipped from Khalid’s grasp and landed in Haider’s palm. The loss hit him harder than he expected—like a door slamming shut somewhere deep inside.
“Check his pockets,” Haider ordered.
Another phone. Then another. Each one taken without ceremony, without mercy. Placed together like proof of victory.
Khalid’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “That’s enough,” he snapped. “You’re afraid—that’s what this is. You’re afraid you can’t control me anymore.”
Haider didn’t react.
“Lock them away,” he said, handing everything to a guard.
Khalid took a step forward, his voice breaking. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Haider finally turned fully toward him.
“You disobeyed,” he said. “And you chose.”
The guards moved in before Khalid could answer. Hands on his arms. Guiding him—not roughly, but with a firmness that allowed no resistance. The door loomed ahead.
“Wait—!” Khalid shouted.
The door opened.
He was pushed inside.
The door closed.
The lock slid into place with a sharp, metallic sound.
Once.
Then again.
Khalid spun around and slammed his palms against the wood.
“Open it!” he yelled. “Open this door right now!”
His voice ricocheted off the walls, raw and desperate. He hit the door again, harder this time, his hands stinging with the impact.
“You can’t keep me locked up like this!” he shouted. “You hear me?!”
Nothing.
No footsteps leaving. No voices answering.
Only the quiet reminder that guards stood just outside, silent and unmoved.
Khalid struck the door again, anger pouring out of him in waves. His chest burned. His throat ached. The fight drained slowly, painfully, until all that was left was exhaustion.
His forehead fell against the door.
His breathing shook.
Nahla’s face filled his thoughts—her eyes when she smiled, the way her voice softened when she said his name, the fear she tried to hide whenever she spoke about the future.
“I promised you,” he whispered, his voice barely sound now.
He slid down until he was sitting on the floor, back pressed to the door as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. His knees drew close to his chest. His hands trembled in his lap.
Time stretched. Minutes blurred.
The anger faded into something heavier.
Fear.
Loss.
The unbearable idea of distance.
Khalid lifted his head slowly. His eyes burned, but his gaze was steady now. His voice, when he spoke again, was quiet—yet unbreakable.
“I will marry her,” he said.
No shouting. No rage.
Just certainty.
“No matter how long you lock me away. No matter how much you try to strip me down to nothing.”
His fingers curled slowly into fists.
“She is not a mistake,” he continued. “She is my choice. And I will not turn my back on the woman I love just to live a life that feels empty.”
The room swallowed his words, but they stayed with him—settling into his bones, anchoring him.
Outside, the guards did not move.
Inside, Khalid closed his eyes.
And waited.The room felt smaller than before.
Khalid stood in the middle of it, breathing slowly, forcing his heartbeat to calm. The silence pressed against his ears, broken only by the faint sounds of guards shifting outside the door. Every second he stayed here felt like surrender—and he refused that.
He moved.
First, the drawers. He pulled them open one by one, his movements quick but controlled. Clothes, books, empty space. Nothing sharp. Nothing useful. He checked under the bed, running his fingers along the floor, as if something might be hidden just out of sight.
Nothing.
His jaw tightened.
He crossed to the wardrobe, pushed aside hangers, pressed against the back panel. Solid. Useless. His hands curled into fists, then relaxed again. Panic wouldn’t help. He needed clarity. He needed a way out.
His gaze lifted slowly… and stopped at the bathroom door.
The idea came quietly, not dramatic, not heroic—just desperate and necessary.
He stepped inside.
The bathroom smelled faintly of soap and cold tiles. Khalid locked the door behind him out of habit, even though he knew no one was coming in. His eyes moved immediately to the small window above the sink.
It wasn’t meant for escape. It was meant for air.
He stood on his toes and tested it with his fingers. The latch resisted at first, stubborn, like it had been waiting for him to give up. He tried again, harder this time, muscles tightening in his arms.
Click.
The sound was soft—but to him, it sounded like freedom cracking open.
He pushed.
The glass rattled, protesting, then gave way enough for cold air to rush in. Khalid inhaled sharply, the night air hitting his lungs like a shock. For a moment, he just stood there, eyes closed, letting it steady him.
Then he leaned out.
Too far.
He froze.
The ground below seemed impossibly distant. Third floor. Stone walls. No forgiveness if he fell wrong.
His stomach twisted.
If I stay, I lose everything, he thought.
If I jump… I might still lose everything.
His fingers tightened around the window frame.
Nahla’s face surfaced in his mind—fearful, trusting, waiting. The promise he’d whispered into the locked room echoed again in his chest.
“I will marry you.”
He swallowed.
Slowly, carefully, Khalid shifted his weight, angling his body sideways through the window. The stone felt cold and rough against his palms as he tested the wall, searching for grip, for balance.
One foot out.
Then the other.
His heart pounded so loudly he was sure the guards could hear it. He pressed himself flat against the wall, breathing shallowly, inching sideways. His fingers scraped along the stone until they found a narrow edge.
He lowered himself, muscles straining, teeth clenched. His arms burned, but he didn’t stop. He focused only on the next movement. The next breath.
The second floor was closer now. Close enough to hope.
Close enough to risk.
He reached down, searching blindly for support—
and then—
His foot slipped.
The world tilted.
Stone vanished beneath him.
And Khalid lost his grip.
🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯
Khalid fall.
vote and comment pls your support means everything.