chapter 14
Alya sat on the edge of her bed, the soft folds of her moonlight-gray dress draped over her lap. She smoothed the fabric, heart fluttering like a bird in her chest. The note from Reyhan lay beside her: "Be ready at 7. Wear the dress. I chose it for you." It felt surreal—after weeks of wary glances and silent mornings, tonight he was taking her out.
She lifted the dress, inhaling its delicate scent, and let her fingers trace the embroidered neckline. He had chosen something modest: long sleeves, a flowing skirt, perfect for an evening stroll. Her pulse quickened at the thought of facing the world together.
The door opened quietly. Reyhan stood in the doorway—sharp in charcoal-gray trousers and a crisp white shirt. His gaze traveled over her, eyes softening.
"You look beautiful," he said, voice low.
Alya's breath caught. She offered a small nod, unable to speak. He stepped forward and gently settled the dupatta over her shoulders. His fingers lingered at her collarbone before he released it.
"Shall we go?" he asked. Alya nodded, heart lifted by the gentle invitation.
He led her through the silent halls, past family portraits and carved mahogany furniture, until they reached the front door. Outside, a sleek black sedan waited.
Reyhan opened her door and offered his arm. Alya slipped her hand into his, marveling at the warmth of his touch. As the car pulled away, she realized this was her first journey as his wife—and not as a prisoner, but as a companion.
--- They arrived at the botanical garden just after dusk. Lanterns along the cobblestone path cast pools of golden light among the rosebushes. Before them, a fountain murmured softly in its marble basin.
Reyhan guided Alya to a wrought-iron bench beneath an arch of jasmine. She inhaled the sweet fragrance, closing her eyes as memories of her garden at home mingled with this new wonder.
He sat beside her, and after a moment of quiet, said,
"I thought you might like this place. You once said flowers bloom faster with prayer."
Alya looked at him, surprised that he remembered. She tapped her chest: "I learn from you."
Reyhan smiled. "Then teach me tonight." He pointed to a rose in full bloom. "What does this one say?"
Alya studied the deep crimson petals, then signed slowly: "This is strength in silence."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You see things I never notice." Then he added, quietly, "I want to learn your language." Alya's eyes glistened. He drew a small spiral in the air: "If you teach me, I promise I will listen."
Moved beyond words, Alya touched her fingertips to his palm. He lifted her hand and pressed it gently to his heart.
--- They strolled along illuminated pathways, pausing at each botanical display. At the orchid pavilion, Reyhan pointed to a pale white bloom.
"What do we call this?"
Alya whispered the scientific name under her breath. He cocked an eyebrow. "Science too?"
She tapped her ear, indicating she heard lectures from Dewi and Zaki. He laughed softly and said, "I suppose there's more to you than I thought."
They reached the lily pond, moonlight dancing on dark water. Frogs croaked in harmony. Reyhan slid a small box from his pocket.
Alya's pulse quickened. He opened it, revealing a delicate silver bracelet engraved with intertwined vines.
"For you," he said, voice tender. "So you'll know I am always with you, wherever we go."
Tears pricked her eyes. She accepted the gift and slid it onto her wrist. The cool metal was a promise.
--- Reyhan led her to a secluded café at the garden's edge. Candles flickered on wooden tables, and soft oud music drifted from hidden speakers. They sat in a corner draped with bougainvillea.
A waiter brought two cups of jasmine tea and a plate of honey-drenched pastries. Alya took a sip, closing her eyes in pleasure.
"Your favorite," Reyhan said, watching her.
She opened her eyes and signed: "You remember everything."
He smiled. "I'm trying."
Across the table, he leaned forward. "Tell me more about your memories—your home."
Alya's brows furrowed with longing. She signed slowly: "My mother taught me to stitch petals into garlands."
He nodded. "Show me sometime." Alya's hands trembled with eagerness.
They talked without words—Alya signing, Reyhan watching, then responding in simple sentences. The conversation was slow but rich. It was the first time he had invited her inner world into his.
--- As they walked back through the northern gate, a black SUV rolled to a stop under the lanterns. Victor Arman's limousine—an unmistakable silhouette—pulled alongside Reyhan's car.
Reyhan's hand tightened around Alya's. He signaled the driver to stop. Through the SUV's tinted window, Victor's cold eyes glinted.
"Evening, Pratama," Victor's voice dripped through the open glass.
Reyhan stepped forward. "What do you want?"
Victor smiled—cruel and polite. "Just to remind you who's really in charge tonight. Business is changing hands at the eastern corridor. Relax—this is your notification."
He tossed an envelope onto areyhan's car hood. Inside, Alya glimpsed a photograph of a warehouse in flames.
Victor leaned back. "Enjoy your date."
His SUV purred away, leaving a hush in its wake.
Without a word, Reyhan retrieved the envelope and slipped it into his pocket.
Alya stood still, heart pounding. Reyhan reached for her hand, pulling her close.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes dark with resolve.
Alya signed: "I trust you." Her quiet courage steadied him.
He kissed her forehead. "Let's go home."
--- They returned to the mansion under a sky streaked with storm clouds. Thunder rumbled distant. Reyhan led Alya through the front hall.
Dewi and Zaki awaited them. Dewi's worried gaze fell on the envelope in Reyhan's hand.
"Is everything all right?" she asked softly.
Reyhan tucked the envelope away. "A business matter. Handled."
Zaki shot him a meaningful look but said nothing.
Alya caught Reyhan's eye. He nodded reassuringly.
That night, as she prepared for bed, Alya's mind churned with the weight of the encounter. Reyhan's world was darker than she'd known.
Yet when he slipped into the room, gentle as ever, and brushed a strand of hair from her face, she felt his promise: he would protect her.
--- Reyhan stood at the window of his office late that night, envelope open on the desk. The warehouse photo glowed on his screen. Outside, rain began to fall.
He dialed Zaki:
"We strike at first light. Take back what's ours. And make sure no one touches her."
His voice was steel.
He folded the photograph and placed it next to the silver bracelet on his desk—the one he'd given Alya.
This was his world. Dangerous, ruthless. But now, he fought for more than power. He fought for her.
--- Downstairs, Alya knelt beside her prayer mat and whispered:
> "Ya Allah, give him strength, give me courage, and keep us safe."
Behind her, Reyhan watched from the doorway, silent and resolute.
In the hush before dawn, two hearts—one armored by silence, the other by vengeance—joined in faith. Their unspoken promise was clear: whatever the storm, they would face it… together.