51. PLEASE!

Sofia stood in Haroon's way, her hands trembling as she clutched the strap of her bag. The silence was thick, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had to speak, had to ask for what she needed, but the words felt like they were lodged in her throat. Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, Haroon," she began, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I... . Just let me stay for fifteen days. I promise I won't be a burden. Please try to understand."

Haroon's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her, his expression unreadable. He was a tall, imposing figure, with a calm demeanor that rarely betrayed his emotions. His life was one of routine and order, carefully curated to keep chaos at bay. The idea of letting a stranger into his world was unthinkable. He had spent years perfecting the art of keeping others at arm's length, and he wasn't about to change that now. Other than Taliya he wasn't comfortable with anyone.

"I'm sorry," he started, his voice cool and detached. "But I can't just—"

He stopped mid-sentence as he caught sight of her face. Sofia's eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks streaked with tears she hadn't bothered to wipe away. The sight of her vulnerability hit him like a punch to the gut. She looked so fragile, so lost, and something inside him softened.

Sofia sensed his hesitation and pressed on, her voice breaking. "Please, just fifteen days. I'll find somewhere else after that, I swear. I just... Please, Haroon."

Haroon felt a surge of conflicting emotions. He was torn between the desire to maintain his solitary life and the unexpected urge to help her. He could see the fear and desperation in her eyes, and it tugged at something deep within him. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the feeling.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Why should I trust you?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of suspicion. "I don't know you. You could be anyone."

Sofia's grip on her bag tightened, and she looked down, biting her lip. "I know you have no reason to trust me," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "But I have no one else to turn to. I promise, I won't cause any trouble. I'll stay out of your way. Just... please."

There was a long pause as Haroon studied her, weighing his options. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the genuine plea for help. It stirred something in him that he couldn't ignore, a sense of responsibility he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew he could send her away, close the door, and continue with his life as usual. But something about her made him pause.

With a sigh, he opened his mouth to let out the words. But, Haroon's phone buzzed insistently in his hand. He glanced at the screen, recognizing Taliya's name. With a sigh, he picked up the call, bracing himself for whatever awaited.

"Haroon," Taliya's voice was smooth and professional, tinged with an underlying urgency. "We're already here, waiting. The jet's prepped, and the staff is on standby. Where are you?"

Haroon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the weight of the day settle on his shoulders. "I'm on my way," he replied, his voice resigned but firm. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Alright, but hurry," Taliya pressed, her tone lightening with a touch of concern. "We can't afford any delays."

He ended the call and pocketed his phone, exhaling deeply. Turning to Sofia, who was standing and waiting for his answer.

"We're heading to the jet," Haroon explained, already moving towards the door. "It's a bit of a rush, but we need to get there quickly."

As they hurried down the hallway, a hostess in a crisp uniform approached them, a warm smile on her face. "This way, please," she instructed, leading them towards the tarmac where the private jet awaited.

In the flurry of motion, Haroon reached out and grabbed Sofia's hand, his larger one enveloping hers. Sofia felt a jolt of surprise at the contact, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the cool evening air. There was a gentleness in the way he held her hand, a protective yet soft grip that caught her off guard.

As they walked briskly, Sofia's thoughts were a whirlwind. She had been so accustomed to being alone, navigating her own path without anyone to guide or support her. The sensation of someone holding her hand with such care was foreign, almost unsettling. No one had ever held her hand like this before—gently, yet with a silent assurance. It was as if, in that moment, she wasn't a burden or an obligation; she was simply someone worth caring for.

They approached the jet, its sleek body gleaming under the lights. Taliya stood at the entrance, clipboard in hand, overseeing the last-minute preparations. She glanced up, spotting Haroon and Sofia, and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

Haroon paused at the steps, releasing Sofia's hand but offering a reassuring smile. "Ready?" he asked, his tone lighter, almost teasing.

Sofia nodded, still feeling the lingering warmth of his touch. "Yeah," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm ready."

As they ascended the steps and boarded the jet, Sofia couldn't shake the feeling of Haroon's hand in hers. It was a small gesture, but it had left a profound impression on her. In that brief moment, she had felt seen and safe, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. And as the jet's engines roared to life, she couldn't help but wonder what other surprises this journey might hold.