Chapter 19

Tariq Al-Farsi supported Layla as they approached the familiar entrance of her family home. Her gait was unsteady, her body still carrying the heavy toll of the past few days. Reaching the door, Layla hesitated, her hand trembling before she managed a soft, rhythmic knock. The door swung open almost immediately. Rami Ghazi stood there, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of his daughter. For a moment, his face transformed with pure ecstasy. "Layla, you're home!" he cried, his voice thick with anxious relief. He reached out, grabbing her arm and pulling her across the threshold into the foyer. "Are you alright? We've been worried sick." Layla leaned into her father's strength, her voice a fragile whisper. "I'm fine, Dad. I'm okay now." The warmth of the reunion was shattered by a sharp, rhythmic tapping of heels on the tile. Salma Ghazi appeared from the living room, her expression darkening the moment her gaze landed on Layla. She stopped several feet away, her posture rigid. "Why are you here, you cursed girl?" Layla flinched as if struck. "Mom..." "Don't call me mom," Salma snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "I have no such daughter. Look at you—a mess, a disgrace." Salma's eyes drifted to the thick bandages wrapped around Layla's face, tracing the edges of the trauma left by Zayd Sharif. Her own memories of the kidnapping surfaced, the terror and the humiliation of being dragged away by soldiers. Khalid Ghazi had been clear: Layla was the source of their misfortune, and the order to cast her out was absolute. Rami Ghazi's brow furrowed, and he stepped between his wife and daughter. "What are you doing, Salma? Look at her! She's still our daughter, no matter what happened." Salma stepped forward, her finger jabbing toward Rami's chest. "Don't forget you're living off Daim Group's salary. If you anger the old man, you'll lose your job in a heartbeat. Who will pay the mortgage then? You?" She turned her venom back toward Layla. "You are a curse on this family. Because of you, your father has no standing, no respect. You've brought nothing but ruin to this house!" Before Rami could find his voice again, Salma lunged for the door. With a violent shove, she pushed Layla back toward the porch and slammed the door shut. The heavy wood thudded into the frame, the lock clicking with finality. Layla stood frozen on the doorstep. Her eyes misted over, the sting of the rejection sharper than any physical wound. A single tear escaped the bandages, trailing down her cheek, followed by a silent flood. She sank to her knees, her forehead resting against the cold wood of the door. "Mom! Dad! Please!" she sobbed, her fists thumping weakly against the paneling. "Please open the door. Don't leave me out here." Tariq felt a sharp pang in his chest, his heart breaking at the sight of her broken spirit. He knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Layla, stop. Don't beg them. It's their loss, not yours. Let's go." Layla didn't seem to hear him. She continued to knock, her voice cracking as she pleaded with the silent house. The door flew open again, but there was no mercy in the gesture. Salma stood there holding two large suitcases, which she heaved out onto the driveway. They tumbled and burst open, spilling Layla's clothes across the pavement. "Leave!" Salma screamed. "Get away from here before someone sees you!" "Mom, stop it!" Majid, Layla's younger brother, pushed past Salma into the doorway. He looked at his sister on the ground and then at his mother, his face twisted with concern. "Layla's been through enough. You can't just turn her away like this. Look at her! Where is she supposed to go? She has nowhere to go with Tariq Al-Farsi. He can't provide for her!" Layla saw a flicker of hope and crawled forward, reaching out to tug at Salma's pant leg. "Mom, please... I have nowhere else. Just let me stay in my room. I'll be quiet. Please." Salma's face contorted with disgust. Without a word, she drew back her foot and kicked Layla's hand away. The force sent Layla sprawling back onto the concrete. Salma stepped back and slammed the door shut again, the sound echoing through the quiet street. Tariq's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a cold, lethal light as he helped Layla to her feet. She was shaking uncontrollably now, her sobs racking her thin frame. The rejection was total; the family she had tried so hard to protect had discarded her like refuse. "Let's go, Layla," Tariq said softly, his voice steady despite the rage simmering beneath the surface. "We'll go to the Dar Al-Malik. It's my friend's place—it's safe, and it's better than this. We'll stay there until your parents calm down." Layla stared at the closed door, her eyes vacant and glazed with grief. She didn't look at Tariq, her mind spiraling into dark, self-destructive depths. "It's my fault," she whispered, her voice hollow. "I'm a disgrace. I'm a jinx." She turned and buried her face into Tariq's chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "I should never have saved that person ten years ago. If I hadn't... none of this would have happened. Why did I do it? Why am I still here?" Tariq's heart twisted with a guilt so profound it choked him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as if he could shield her from the world's cruelty. "I'm sorry, Layla," he murmured into her hair, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." ════════════════════════════════════════