44. BROKEN LIGHTS

Murad stood there, drenched to the bone, water dripping from his hair and clothes. His usually composed expression was replaced with one of unease, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. The sight of him, soaked and vulnerable, sent a jolt of surprise through Taliya. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

"Murad?" she finally managed, her voice a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he signed and sigh, his sigh barely audible over the sound of the rain. "The lights in my room... they're not working. I... I didn't know where else to go. Fahad has been busy with something and I doesn't trust anyone here with my life."

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Taliya's mind raced. She had never seen Murad like this—so raw, so exposed. Her chest tightened with a mix of concern and confusion. Why had he come to her?

"Come in," she said softly, stepping aside to let him enter. Murad hesitated, then nodded, stepping into the warmth of her room. Taliya quickly closed the door behind him, shutting out the cold draft from the hallway. The small space suddenly felt even smaller, the air charged with an electricity she couldn't quite place.

Murad stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, water pooling at his feet. Taliya grabbed a towel from her bathroom and handed it to him. As he dried his hair, she could see the lines of tension in his face, the way his shoulders were hunched as if he were carrying a heavy burden. She wanted to say something, to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come.

He finally looked up at her, his dark eyes searching her face. "I'm really sorry, Taliya. I didn't mean to intrude, I'll just go back when the work is done. I have already notified the staff about it."

Taliya shook her head, finding her voice. "It's fine, Murad. Really. I'm just... surprised, that's all."

Murad nodded, a small, rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess this isn't exactly how you imagined spending your evening."

She chuckled softly, the tension in the room easing just a little. "No, but I guess life has a way of surprising us."

There was another silence, but this time it felt different—less awkward, more charged with the weight of everything unsaid between them. Taliya couldn't help but notice how different Murad looked, the wetness of his clothes clinging to his frame, the vulnerability in his eyes. It was as if the storm had stripped away the layers of formality and distance that usually defined their interactions.

"Do you want to sit?" she offered, gesturing to a chair by the desk. "I can order some tea."

Murad nodded, gratefully accepting the seat. "Tea would be nice."

Taliya busied herself with the order, her hands trembling slightly. She could feel Murad's gaze on her, a silent presence that made her heart race. As the order was placed, she glanced over at him, noticing how he seemed to be studying the room, taking in the details. She wondered what he saw—a glimpse into her world, a place she rarely shared with others.

A knock resonated on the door and Taliya hurried to the door. Smiling gently at the hostess, she pulled the trolley in.

She brought the tea over, handing him a steaming cup. Their fingers brushed for a brief moment, sending a spark of warmth through her. She quickly pulled away, blushing slightly. Murad seemed not to notice, or if he did, he gave no sign.
Before Murad came, Taliya was occupied with his memories.

The rain lashed against the windows of room, the storm outside echoing the turbulence in Taliya's mind. She had been lost in her thoughts, curled up on her bed with a book that she couldn't quite focus on. The soft glow of her bedside lamp was the only source of warmth in the room, casting long shadows on the walls.

As they sipped their tea, the rain continued its relentless assault on the windows. The sound filled the room, a rhythmic backdrop to their silence. Taliya found herself staring at Murad, wondering what had brought him here, beyond the broken lights. There was something else, she could feel it—a deeper reason, a silent plea for something he couldn't articulate.

"Is everything okay?" she finally asked, her voice gentle.

Murad looked down at his cup, his fingers tightening around it. "It's just... been a long day," he said quietly. "And then the storm... I don't know. I guess I just needed to be somewhere... safe."

Murad was smart, too smart. He knows when the criminal personality has to change into victims. That was the trick old Murad always played and Taliya could sense the deja vú hitting her like a truck.

The word "safe" hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Taliya felt a lump form in her throat. It was strange to think that Murad, of all people, would seek her out for comfort, for a sense of security. She had always seen him as strong, unflappable, someone who didn't need anyone. But here he was, in her room, looking lost and uncertain.

"You're always welcome here," she said softly, meaning every word. "No matter what."

Murad looked up, meeting her gaze. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or something deeper, more complex. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it spoke volumes.

"Thank you," he signed, dropping his head.

For a moment, they simply sat there, the storm raging outside, their tea cooling in their hands. It felt like time had stopped, the world outside fading away, leaving just the two of them in this small, intimate space. Taliya could feel the weight of the moment, the unspoken feelings hovering between them like a palpable force. She wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had always existed between them, but she was afraid—afraid of what it might mean, of the unknown future it might open up.

But in that silence, in that shared understanding, there was a quiet comfort. They didn't need to say anything more. For now, it was enough to be together, to share this brief moment of connection in the midst of the storm. And as the rain continued to pour, Taliya felt a strange sense of peace, a warmth that had nothing to do with the tea or the lamp's glow.

For the first time, she felt like she had truly seen Murad—not just as the composed, distant figure she had always known, but as a person with fears and vulnerabilities, someone who needed her. Just like the old one.