She pounded on the door with all her might, trembling in her disheveled attire—wearing an oversized robe that draped her body, her sharp features punctuating the fabric. Her long hair was tangled and matted, a testament to her frantic state. Her bedroom was in disarray; she was so agitated that she paced the floor, desperately typing, “Help, please… Is anyone here? Somebody, please…” She wept as though her very soul was on the verge of escaping through the window, roaming the main hall, shrieking for assistance. Exhausted, she finally sank onto a rug on the floor to stifle her sobs.

A door in the living room creaked open, and she lifted her head from her feet, her eyes locked on his face. He wore a casual outfit, a sleeveless shirt, and jeans, a cigarette in hand. He was tall and broad-chested, with captivating, seductive eyes. His slow, deliberate steps couldn’t bring him to her fast enough. He knelt before her, raising her chin to meet his gaze with his arresting eyes. With his other hand, he brushed her hair away from her face before resting his palm on the center table, offering a sinister smile from the side. “My Sahraah,” he said, his tone smooth and gentle.

His face drew nearer to hers as he attempted to embrace her, but she pushed him away with all her strength and turned to scrutinize the expression on his face. She shook her head, her lips trembling, and pleaded, “Please, Safwan, don’t cross this line… Please, for God’s sake. I want to go home, stay out of my life, don’t hurt me, please.”

“Marry me… I love you, Sahraah,” he finished, his words trailing as he reached out to caress her body.

She cast her eyes downward, tears streaming down her face. “Oh God, protect me from this wretched man. What are you doing? Stop it, please.”

With a forceful shove, Safwan ushered her into a room and laid her on the bed, attempting to assert himself over her. She screamed and struggled to rise. Safwan stood up and tried to lift her shirt.

“I want to go home,” she implored.

He swiftly covered her mouth with his own, attempting to silence her as if devouring her. She struggled and squirmed, but he wouldn’t relent. Desperation fueled her, and she grabbed a nearby lamp, swinging it at his back. A scream escaped Safwan as he clutched the injured area, blood oozing out. He retreated from the room, leaving the bedroom and heading back to the living room.

Frantically pulling off his socks, he pressed a button on the bedside. Sahraah, shaken but cautious, did not scream, fearing he might harm her. Fifty security guards stormed into the house, racing upstairs toward Safwan’s room. They knocked on the door of the hall, burst in, and apprehended Sahraah in the middle of the room.

“It’s Kobakiji. Where’s Sir?” one of them barked at her, brandishing a firearm. She screamed and fell to her knees, pointing with a trembling hand towards the room. Two guards rushed in and found Safwan lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head. In shock, one of them called for help, and they quickly transported him to an upscale private hospital.