"Last word's by him" by 'Zayneb Hashmi'
˚🦋༘⋆ | ✦♱.
AUTHOR: ZAYNEB HASHMI.
POETRY : SEYED RAFAY HAIDER NAQVI.
☾ ⋆⁺₊✧
╔══════════════════════╗
"LAST WORDS
BY
HIM"
╚══════════════════════╝ ✧₊⁺⋆☾
BUT KNOW THE DEPTH OF HEART YOU LOST ,
until the end "💫😊
[SEYED RAFAY HAIDER NAQVI]
1st August 2025:
Soft morning light filtered through the curtains, spilling gently into the room and illuminating every corner with a golden glow. He lay on the bed, his face pressed deep into the mattress, lost in the lingering embrace of sleep.
A sudden knock echoed at the door. He stirred, opening one eye—half-lidded, heavy with drowsiness. The maid stood at the threshold, holding a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Its rich aroma soon drifted through the room, enveloping the air in warmth.
Without uttering a single word, he slowly rose and made his way to the bathroom. The maid quietly placed the cup on the bedside table and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Moments later, he emerged. Droplets of water clung to his chest, tracing slow paths down his skin after the shower. He paused before the mirror, studying his reflection. He was a striking young man—one whose presence alone could effortlessly capture hearts. His piercing blue eyes, contrasted by his dark black hair, and the natural radiance upon his face gave him an almost captivating aura.
Composed and silent, he dressed in his impeccably tailored black office suit. Each movement carried a quiet confidence.
Descending the stairs, he found everything already in place. The driver stood waiting, the car prepared. Without a word, he stepped inside and left for work, his silence speaking louder than any conversation
"In your quiet strength, I found
a place to rest my fears,
Like a gentle storm, you hold my
heart through all these years."
[zayneb hashmi] 🖤
As soon as he stepped through the towering glass doors of the office building, a fleeting shadow collided into him.
Caught off guard, the figure lost its balance and stumbled forward—falling straight into his arms.
For a brief, suspended moment, time seemed to falter.
Silken strands of jet-black hair brushed against him, and then—eyes. Eyes as deep and endless as the ocean.
The girl steadied herself, but something within him shifted. His breath grew uneven, his composure faltering for the first time in what felt like forever. He could feel the warmth of her presence, even the faint, delicate scent of her breath lingering between them.
She was Emma Watson—an ordinary employee working under him. Someone he had never truly noticed before… until now.
As she regained her balance, she lifted her gaze toward him. Those ocean-deep eyes met his—and in that instant, Atlas Grey found himself utterly captivated, as though pulled into an uncharted depth he could neither resist nor escape.
Their eyes met once more, and this time, she spoke—her voice trembling with nervousness.
“I… I… ah—I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
Before he could respond, she turned and hurried away, leaving behind nothing but the echo of her presence.
And there he stood—Atlas Grey—uncharacteristically still, completely lost in a moment that had vanished far too quickly.
2nd August 2025:
Atlas
Grey sat in his office, waiting. There was an unusual stillness about
him—one that masked the quiet anticipation stirring beneath.
As
soon as she entered, he straightened himself, regaining his composure.
With a subtle gesture toward the chair across his desk, he spoke in a
low, controlled voice,
“Miss Emma Watson… please, have a seat.”
Emma complied, settling into the chair before him, her posture composed yet slightly tense.
Atlas glanced at the documents spread across his desk before speaking again.
“How is our hiring process progressing?”
Emma briefly scanned the papers and replied with calm professionalism,
“We are actively recruiting for the open positions.”
His gaze lifted toward her, steady and observant.
“And are we attracting qualified candidates?”
“Yes,” she answered, “but the competition in the market is quite intense.”
A brief silence followed before Atlas leaned back slightly, his tone thoughtful.
“What would you suggest?”
Emma paused, considering her response carefully. Then she spoke, her voice firm yet measured,
“We should enhance our benefits package to attract stronger talent.”
Her words lingered in the air. Atlas regarded her for a moment, a hint of approval flickering in his eyes. She had impressed him—more than he had expected.
“That sounds reasonable,” he said quietly. “Please prepare a proposal.”
A faint smile touched Emma’s lips.
"Certainly. I’ll take care of it.”
Minutes passed, and an unspoken tension seemed to settle between them. Then Atlas spoke again, this time with a slight hesitation—uncharacteristic of him.
“Alright… ah… one more thing.”
He studied her face carefully before continuing,
“If you’re free, would you be able to come to my house? I would like to discuss something further… as part of the meeting.”
Emma hesitated, clearly surprised. She thought for a moment before nodding.
“Yes, sir. I’ll come. Just let me know what time I should arrive.”
A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his lips.
“Five o’clock p.m.”
With a final nod, Emma stood and quietly left the office.
The moment the door closed behind her, the atmosphere shifted.
Atlas remained seated, yet his composure began to unravel. Restlessness crept in—a rare and unfamiliar feeling. He found himself unable to focus. Papers lay scattered before him, untouched and meaningless, as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Again and again, his mind returned to one name—
Emma Watson.
It was evening.
Emma prepared herself quietly at home before leaving for Atlas Grey’s mansion. Within half an hour, she stood before the grand estate, its towering structure radiating both luxury and silence.
A bodyguard greeted her respectfully and escorted her inside, leading her to the meeting room. Meanwhile, a maid went to inform Atlas—who had already been dressed and waiting in his room for quite some time.
The moment he heard of her arrival, he descended the stairs swiftly, his heartbeat echoing louder than usual within his chest.
As he pushed open the door of the meeting room, his eyes met hers.
For a brief moment, he stood still—silent, almost captivated—before speaking in a soft, measured whisper,
“You’re very punctual, Miss Emma Watson.”
Emma offered a polite smile.
“In professional life, punctuality is essential, Mr. Grey.”
He gestured toward the sofa, and she took her seat gracefully, while he settled on the couch opposite her.
“So,” he began, a subtle, almost mischievous smirk playing upon his lips, “I wanted to discuss a few things with you.”
Emma nodded slightly.
“Yes, sir. What is it?”
Atlas leaned forward just a fraction, his tone turning serious.
“I’ve noticed a decline in productivity. What seems to be the issue?”
Emma answered thoughtfully,
“Some employees are experiencing excessive workload, stress, and a lack of motivation. That appears to be the primary reason.”
Atlas tapped lightly against the bridge of his nose, contemplating her words.
“That does sound concerning. What do you propose we do?”
“We could arrange counseling sessions and adjust workloads to create a healthier balance,” she suggested calmly.
“Make sure this is handled promptly,” he said.
Emma gave a soft, reassuring smile.
“Yes, sir. I’ll take immediate action.”
For a fleeting moment, silence settled between them.
Atlas’s gaze wandered—unintentionally tracing her figure—before lingering briefly on her lips. Realizing himself, he shook his head slightly, as though trying to dismiss the thought.
After a pause, he spoke again, his voice quieter now, almost personal.
“May I ask you a question?”
Emma nodded, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
“Yes… what is it?”
A faint smile curved his lips.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
The question was direct—unexpected.
Emma hesitated for a moment before replying softly,
“That’s quite a personal question… but no, I don’t.”
A subtle satisfaction flickered across his expression.
“Oh, really? And why is that?”
She met his gaze, her voice steady despite a trace of shyness.
“I don’t believe in such relationships unless they are serious.”
“An admirable choice,” he said quietly. Then, after a brief pause, he added,
“What do you wish to do next in life?”
The question seemed to catch her off guard. She hesitated, then answered,
“I would like to build a library of my own.”
For the first time, genuine admiration appeared in his eyes.
“That’s… impressive,” he said. “By the way, I have a library. If you’d like, I can show it to you.”
Emma’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Oh… you have a library?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I used to have a deep interest in reading, so I had one built. It’s in the backyard.”
He rose from the couch, extending the invitation with a quiet confidence.
“Would you like to see it?”
A soft smile appeared on her lips as she stood up as well.
“Yes… of course. I’d love to.”
And with that, the atmosphere shifted—no longer merely professional, but something far more delicate… and uncertain.
Together, they left the meeting room and stepped into the quiet expanse of the backyard. The evening air carried a gentle stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves. At the far end stood an old-style wooden door—timeless, almost mysterious in its presence.
Atlas approached it and gently pushed it open. Then, turning slightly toward her, he extended his hand.
“Come inside.”
Emma hesitated for a brief moment. Her gaze shifted from his face to his outstretched hand. After a heartbeat of uncertainty, she placed her hand in his and stepped forward.
The library unfolded before her like a hidden world.
It was vast, elegantly designed in a classic style. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, lined with countless books arranged with meticulous care. At the center stood a large round table, encircled by finely crafted chairs—an inviting space meant for quiet reading and thoughtful solitude.
Emma’s eyes widened as she took it all in, wonder reflecting in her gaze.
“Amazing…” she whispered softly.
Atlas watched her reaction with quiet satisfaction.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. Then, after a brief pause, his voice lowered slightly,
“From today… this is yours as well.”
Emma turned to him, startled.
“Mine?”
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
“Yes. I mean—you’re free to bring any book you like and come here whenever you wish.”
He paused deliberately, his expression shifting into something more playful.
“But… there is a condition.”
Emma narrowed her eyes slightly, studying him with cautious curiosity.
He let out a soft chuckle, a subtle smirk forming.
“Don’t look at me like that—I’m not asking for anything difficult.”
Leaning back slightly, he gestured around the library before adding in a calm, almost teasing tone,
“Just have dinner with me tonight… unless you don’t want to.”
His gaze lingered on her as silence settled between them. He waited—patient, yet expectant.
Emma
looked around once more, then back at him. After a moment of quiet
thought, she finally spoke, her voice gentle yet certain.
“Okay… I agree.”
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Atlas’s face—one that hinted this was only the beginning of something far more intricate than either of them had anticipated.
"MY LOVE IS NOT A LIKENESS, WITH LIMIT
TO IT'S STAY,
FOR LIKENESS IS PASSING THING,THAT
VANISH AWAY.
MY LOVE IS NOT A SIMPLE THOUGHT, BUT
THE ENDLESS TILL BREATH."💟.
7:30 O'CLOCK:
"The wind hums softly, carrying
your name,
Each breath I take sets my soul
aflame."
" 🕊️❥𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆𝒃❥🕊️ "
It was a beautiful restaurant filled with soft, dim lights, where both of them were sitting together. Atlas was smiling as he looked at her face, while Emma was busy reading the menu.
After thinking for a while, Atlas asked, “Haven’t you found anything you like yet?”
She thought for a moment and then smiled, saying, “There’s nothing here that I would like.”
Atlas looked surprised. “You didn’t like anything here?”
Emma nodded. “Yes, because I’m not used to such expensive food… but I do have a better option, if you’re comfortable.”
Atlas raised his eyebrows. “And what is that?”
Emma paused for a moment and then replied, “There’s a bun burger shop near my house. Their burgers are really good… if you’re comfortable, can we go there?”
Atlas looked at her in an amused way, then stood up and extended his hand toward her. “Let’s go.”
She looked surprised. “You mean you’re actually coming with me?”
He nodded with a smile. “Of course, why not?”
After a while, they reached a small bun burger shop located at the corner of a narrow street. After buying two bun kebabs, they both sat down on a nearby bench.
After a while, they finished their bun burgers and got up, starting to walk through the street. Emma smiled and said, “Have you ever sat among ordinary people and eaten like this?”
Atlas shook his head. “No, never.”
She smiled. “Well, there’s one more place we can go, if you want.”
Atlas looked a little surprised. “And what is it this time?”
With a smile, she pointed toward a small beer bar in front of them. He laughed and walked inside with her. They sat down on one side and ordered some drinks.
After having a few drinks, Emma quietly went somewhere, and five minutes later, she came back. Atlas was looking at her when suddenly, a guy on the stage invited him to sing.
Atlas glanced at Emma. “This is your doing, isn’t it, Miss Emma Watson?”
She laughed out loud. “Go on, I’m sure you sing really well.”
Hearing the crowd cheer and seeing the smile on Emma’s face, he walked toward the stage. As he stepped up, he began to sing softly.
(He started singing “Let Me Down Slowly” by Alec Benjamin.)
He sang in a low, gentle voice, and Emma’s heart melted at his smile
The whole day passed, and they walked back toward Emma’s house, laughing together. When they reached her door, Atlas smiled and said, “It was a beautiful night, Emma Watson.”
She lowered her head slightly and thanked him. “Thank you, Atlas Grey. It was for me too.”
They stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Then Atlas gently reached out and brushed her hair aside, as it was falling across her face because of the breeze.
“You are very beautiful,” he said with a smile.
Emma felt like she had already lost her heart. She softly whispered, “You too, Atlas Grey… you are very beautiful.”
Atlas leaned closer and looked into her eyes, then slowly closed his own. Gently, he kissed her on the lips.
Thunder roared loudly in the sky, and soon the rain began to fall, soaking both of them.
inside
Where restless waves of longing and soft
secrets hide
Like moonlight drifting on a midnight sea,
Your quiet gaze awakens hidden parts of me."
[ZAYNEBHASHMI]
"Life is not always easy; it is filled with challenges of every
kind that one must confront and endure. Only those who overcome these
difficulties and move forward toward ease and stability are truly
successful."
[ZAYNEB HASHMI]˚.✩₊
"I walked the path of shadows,
where the deepest sorrows lie,
Watching the world move forward,
beneath a changing sky."
[S.R.H.N.]🕊️✨
It was a somber, ink-dark night when the rain finally softened to a whisper, and he returned home. His car glided through the vast corridors of the estate before coming to a quiet halt in the parking area. Stepping out, he pushed open the grand doors of the mansion and entered with a heavy, unspoken tension surrounding him.
“Where were you, Atlas?” his mother’s voice rang out, sharp and brimming with restrained fury.
“Am I answerable to you, Mom?” he replied coldly, turning away as if to retreat to his room.
“You can never have that girl,” she declared, her voice echoing with certainty and control. “Because you are destined to marry someone else—you know that.”
At her words, Atlas’s composure shattered. In a surge of suppressed rage, he seized the vase beside him and hurled it violently to the ground, where it shattered into countless fragments.
Y-you…” he began, but the words dissolved into silence.
Without another glance, he walked away—his footsteps heavy with defiance, yet shadowed by an unspoken storm within.
When he entered his room, it was shrouded in darkness. A faint stream of pale light slipped through the window, scattering a ghostly glow across the silence. He was broken—utterly, irreparably broken. Even his own mother treated him like nothing more than a servant.
He moved forward and sank to the floor, resting his back against the bed, as if the weight of his existence had finally become too much to bear.
“Emma Watson is written in my destiny,” he whispered, his voice trembling with fragile conviction, “because I have begun to love her. I am imprisoned in the depths of her lake-like eyes… she is becoming the very essence of my life.”
His words dissolved into quiet sobs, each breath heavy with anguish.
“You have taken everything from me… my father, my sister, my peace. I have never wronged you, Mom—never betrayed you in any way. Then why… why do you treat me like this? You… you cannot take Emma away from me now.”
His voice faltered into silence. He lowered his head onto his knees and wept, the sorrow within him spilling out like an unending storm.
Sometimes, life becomes an unbearable moment—one that a person can neither endure nor escape. And today, Atlas Grey stood trapped in that very abyss, because his life had turned into an unrelenting trial.
Yet, despite everything, he had to live. And this time, he refused to lose anything more…
He would not lose Emma Watson.
night,
surrender its deep blue.
[ZAYNEB HASHMI]˚.✩₊
3rd August 2025:
It
was five in the morning—a serene, almost ethereal
dawn. Yet within Atlas, there was nothing but an engulfing darkness. He
rose slowly and gazed out of the window; the pale light of morning had
not yet fully claimed the sky, as though even the heavens hesitated to
awaken.
He missed his father—profoundly, achingly. And his elder sister… her absence lingered within him like a quiet, unhealed wound. But after his parents’ divorce, he had remained with his mother. It had been twenty-five long years—twenty-five years of living without his father’s presence. He was merely two years old when his parents separated, and his sister, only two years older than him, had endured that fracture just as deeply.
Life had never been kind to them. It had carved its hardships into their very existence. And though Atlas Grey appeared resilient—unyielding, even—to the outside world, within, he was quietly shattered… a soul fractured beneath the weight of memories he could never escape.
He was still in his room when a soft knock echoed at the door, and his elder sister stepped inside. She was just as beautiful as him—graceful, composed, yet carrying a quiet strength within her presence.
“So early?” Atlas Grey said, glancing at her with a hint of surprise woven into his otherwise weary voice
Nova looked at him and, with a soft smile, sat down on the bed.
“Yes, because I felt like coming early in the morning just to annoy my dear brother,” she said lightly, letting out a small laugh.
Then her expression softened as she studied him more closely. “Atlas… are you okay?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
Atlas Grey looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?” he replied quietly.
“Are you alright… or did you have another argument with Mother?” Nova asked softly as he sat beside her on the bed.
“Yes… I did,” Atlas Grey replied in a low voice, his tone heavy with exhaustion.
Nova studied him carefully, sensing the unease in his silence.
After a brief pause, Atlas finally spoke, his words carrying a restrained storm within them. “There is someone among my employees… someone I have grown deeply attached to. Her name is Emma Watson. You may know her—she works in the HR department as a manager.”
He exhaled slowly, as though admitting it aloud had cost him something. “I have fallen in love with her.”
His expression darkened. “But Mother has completely rejected the idea. She is against Emma… she.......she is using me for this business. And instead, she wants me to marry Victoria.”
By the end, his voice carried a quiet but unmistakable edge of anger and frustration.
After a moment of silence, she spoke gently, “You should talk to Mom about it. I think once she finds out that you love that girl, she will try to understand you.”
Atlas Grey let out a faint, bitter laugh, one laced with disbelief.
“Do you really think Mom cares about my feelings?” he said coldly. “She only thinks about herself… That is why she divorced Dad—because she could no longer tolerate him.”
Atlas Grey gently took Nova’s hand in his and managed a faint smile.
“I have to go to the office… you should go now. I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he said softly.
Nova offered a small, uncertain smile, as though she didn’t fully believe his words. Still, she rose from the bed, patting his hand lightly.
“Alright… take care of yourself. Bye,” she said before turning away.
The door closed behind her, and silence swallowed the room once again. The darkness within Atlas’s heart seemed to return—heavier this time, more suffocating than before.
He knew his mother would do what she always did. Like every other time, she would try to take his love away from him.
But this time… Atlas Grey was not ready to lose her.
"I hear the quiet. Not the peace,
but a screaming sound, It’s the same dark.
fear that is breaking the ground.
We called it Ego, a killer of the true,
It chose to murder me, and it chose to murder you. "
[S.R.H.N.]🕊️✨
Atlas Grey was seated in his office when his gaze slowly drifted across the room and settled on Emma Watson. She was absorbed in her work, completely unaware of his attention. Her hair was neatly tied into a soft ponytail, and she wore a black skirt paired with a blouse that gave her an elegant and composed appearance. In that moment, she appeared strikingly beautiful.
For a while, he simply watched her in silence.
Then, as if sensing his gaze, Emma looked up—and their eyes met.
At that instant, it felt as though a powerful storm had broken across a calm sky, as if thunder had suddenly rolled through silence. Once again, Atlas Grey found himself drowning in those eyes… lost in them in a way he could neither resist nor explain.
Atlas Grey noticed her gaze falter for a brief moment, and instinctively, he looked away—slightly flustered. A faint smile, however, still lingered on his lips. Across the room, Emma Watson met his eyes once more and returned a soft, subtle smile of her own before lowering her gaze back to her work.
A knock sounded at the office door.
“Come in,” Atlas said calmly. By now, he had composed himself, his expression returning to a professional calm.
His assistant stepped inside. “Sir, your meeting will begin in fifteen minutes,” she informed him with a polite smile, glancing at the schedule in her hand.
“Alright… everything is prepared?” he asked, his tone steady and authoritative, the earlier distraction now fully concealed beneath his professionalism.
“Yes, sir. Everything is ready,” the assistant replied.
“Good. You may go now,” Atlas Grey said firmly, dismissing her with controlled composure.
adapt and think beyond today’s limits.
A strong opinion backed by action is what
turns ideas into lasting growth."
[Zayneb ♡––––♡]
Atlas Grey sat in a vast, polished meeting room, surrounded by senior employees who were presenting their opinions one after another. The atmosphere was formal, filled with discussion and strategic deliberation.
Yet his mind was not truly there. It had drifted elsewhere—quietly, helplessly—towards the memory of Emma Watson and the way her eyes had met his earlier.
He remained outwardly composed, but internally distracted, as if only half of him was present in the room.
“Sir…” his assistant called softly, trying to bring his attention back.
Atlas blinked, momentarily startled. “Yes?” he responded, straightening slightly as he refocused on the meeting.
Atlas Grey’s assistant leaned slightly forward and said, “Sir, Mr. Oliver is asking something from you.”
Atlas forced a faint smile, trying to mask his distraction. “Yes… sure. Your approach is correct,” he replied, though his words carried an unusual looseness, as if his focus had slipped. “However, for the construction of the building, we will need proper architectural maps.”
His remark felt slightly unnecessary—something even he might have realized, as any architectural project naturally required structural plans. Yet his mind was elsewhere, making his words drift without full precision.
“It’s alright… I’ll handle it,” he added, letting out a soft, controlled laugh.
The
smile on his face was not entirely genuine. Beneath it, there was a
subtle tension—nervousness he was struggling to conceal—as if part of
him was still trapped in thoughts of Emma Watson.
After the meeting ended, Atlas Grey returned to his office. The day had begun to settle into its quieter hours, and the office felt unusually empty. It was lunchtime, so Emma Watson was not at her desk.
A faint silence wrapped around him. He loosened his breath and leaned slightly back in his chair, allowing the tension of the meeting to slowly fade away.
Then, under his breath, a soft, almost self-directed smile appeared on his lips.
“Ah… Atlas… pull yourself together. What is happening to you?” he murmured quietly, as if speaking to his own restless heart.
"She feared betrayal, a lifetime's
sudden break,
But my honest promise she knew
was no mistake."
[S.R.H.N.]🕊️✨
3:30 O'clock:
"The night keeps asking where,
your shadow has gone.
While my heart keeps waiting,
though I know you’re long gone."
[Zayneb Hahmi]
It was the closing hour at the office, and people were steadily streaming out. Emma had already settled into her taxi when Atlas came rushing from behind and stopped her.
“Miss Emma!” he called out—his voice bursting forth like a sharp cry.
Emma glanced out through the right-side window of the back seat, then opened the door and stepped outside.
“Atlas?” she said, surprised. “What is it? Why are you calling me?”
He stepped closer, then leaned in slightly and spoke in a soft voice, “Are you free tonight? …If you are, could we meet?”
Emma paused for a moment, as though weighing her schedule, then after a brief silence, she replied to the expectant Atlas, “Yes, I’m free… we can meet.”
A faint smile appeared on his face. Behind him, his bodyguard stood quietly, listening to their conversation, though Atlas paid him no attention.
At eight o’clock that night, he stood in his room, getting ready, when his mother knocked on the door.
“Atlas?”
He turned, the expression on his face tightening slightly. “Yes, Mom… what is it?” he replied, a hint of irritation in his tone.
“If you’re planning to go somewhere, then stop,” she said indifferently, “because your father is coming to see you.”
“Father…? Dad is coming?” he asked, startled. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I didn’t consider it necessary,” she responded with the same cold nonchalance.
“Alright, I’ll stay home,” he said, and his mother quietly left the room.
He dialed Emma’s number, but the call went unanswered. Assuming she must be busy, he left her a message: “Sorry, Emma. My father is coming to see me tonight, so we’ll have to cancel our plans.”
After sending it, he set his phone down on the side table and stepped out of his room into the lounge.
Meanwhile, in her room, his mother was speaking to his bodyguard.
“Has the task I assigned been completed?”
The man showed her a picture of Emma—she was bound to a chair in a dim, blue-lit room. “The girl is in our custody,” he said.
A faint, satisfied smile curved across his mother’s lips as she looked at the image. “Very good… now do exactly as I instruct."
After speaking with the man for a while, his mother dismissed him, and he stepped out of the room.
Unaware that Emma had been abducted, Atlas sat in the garden, quietly waiting for his father’s arrival.
After waiting for a long time, when he finally realized that it was already midnight, he returned to his room. Disappointment had settled heavily across his face.
After so many years, he had been genuinely happy at the thought of his father’s arrival—yet he never came, and Atlas was left waiting.
After returning to his room, he switched off the lights and lay down on the bed.
As a thought suddenly crossed his mind, he picked up his phone and dialed Emma’s number—but it was powered off, and his message remained unread.
Unaware of what had truly happened, he set the phone aside and drifted off to sleep.
"The night wore silence,
stained in shades of red.
Where broken hopes and
whispered fears had bled."
[zayneb hashmi]
Emma’s mouth had been gagged, and she lay slumped on the chair, completely exhausted and unaware of her surroundings. Despite her relentless efforts, she had been unable to free herself from the ropes that bound her.
A heavily built man, accompanied by three others dressed in similar attire, entered the room and stood to one side.
Behind them, a woman walked in wearing a black fitted shirt and tight trousers. She approached Emma, and bending slightly, examined her face. Emma looked utterly drained now, her features reflecting fatigue from her continuous struggle.
The woman traced her fingernail across Emma’s face. Then, suddenly, she struck her hard across the face with a forceful slap.
Unable to bear the impact, Emma, along with the chair, collapsed onto the floor. The white cloth that had been stuffed in her mouth was now stained a deep crimson with blood.
As soon as she regained consciousness, another powerful blow struck her face. The intensity of the pain made her cry out in agony.
A man removed the cloth from her mouth and straightened her posture, forcing her back onto the chair.
“What do you think of yourself?” she said coldly. “You’re neither beautiful, nor do you possess anything valuable, yet you believe you can take Atlas away from me?”
Another harsh blow landed across her face, and blood mixed with saliva spilled from her mouth.
After some time, the relentless series of blows continued to fall upon her delicate face, and Emma eventually lost consciousness.
The woman adjusted her clothes and walked out of the room, followed by all the men behind her. Emma was left alone in the blue room, lying bloodied and exhausted, as if all life had drained from her body.
"Shadows crawled beneath a moonless sky
so pale,
As even the stars forgot their ancient
tale."
[zayneb hashmi]
4th August 2025:
When Atlas arrived at the office in the morning, he grew worried after Emma did not show up despite waiting for her. He tried calling her several times, but her number was switched off.
After waiting for some time, he called his secretary over.
“Miss Emma Watson hasn’t come in today,” he said, clearly worried.
“No, sir, she still hasn’t arrived. Perhaps she is on leave,” she replied, then fell silent.
Atlas’s concern deepened even further.
“Contact her. Whatever it takes, get in touch with her,” he said firmly.
The secretary nodded and left the room.
He sat in his office, restless and agitated—at times staring toward the door, at others glancing repeatedly at the clock. By lunchtime, his anxiety had intensified considerably. Emma’s phone was still switched off. A growing sense of suspicion took hold of him, and he summoned his bodyguard.
A heavily built man entered the office and came to stand before Atlas Grey.
“What have you done?” Atlas demanded.
The man faltered slightly at the question but quickly regained his composure. “Sir, we were following orders… from ma’am.”
Without warning, Atlas rose and struck him hard across the face. Despite his strength, the man staggered under the force.
“Where is Emma Watson?” Atlas’s voice thundered
No answer came. Another forceful blow followed.
“I’m asking you—where is Emma?”
Steadying himself, the man replied quietly, “The orders came from your mother. We had no choice… you should ask her yourself, Mr. Grey.”
He fell silent.
Consumed by fury, Atlas Grey stormed out of his office like a raging tempest. He sped toward his home with such reckless urgency that he barely realized how narrowly he escaped several accidents along the way.
As soon as he reached home, he stormed into his mother’s room like a tempest. She was seated calmly on the sofa, reading a book. The moment he entered, he shouted at the top of his voice,
“Where is Emma, Mom?”
He was practically screaming, yet his mother ignored him completely. In a surge of fury, he grabbed a vase from the table and hurled it to the ground. Then he strode toward the drawer, pulled it open, and took out a pistol, raising it toward himself.
“I’m asking for the last time—where is Emma, Mom?”
His action visibly unsettled her. “Atlas, put the gun down!” she cried.
“I won’t!” he retorted. “Isn’t this what you want—that everyone who cares about me disappears? It would be better if I end it myself… then there will be no pain left.”
His finger tightened over the trigger.
“Atlas!”
His mother cried out, clutching her head in panic.
“Where is Emma?” he roared with all his strength, his voice echoing through the entire mansion.
“Put the gun down—I swear I’ll bring Emma back. Please, just lower it,” she pleaded.
But it was as if he hadn’t heard her.
“I only asked one thing—where is Emma?”
The intensity in his voice made her shrink back in fear. For the first time in her life, she was seeing Atlas consumed by such uncontrollable desperation—and all because of Emma.
“Fine… I’ll send my men with you. You can bring her back yourself… just put the gun down,” she said, tears streaming down her face—tears she hadn’t shed since the day of her divorce.
Atlas lowered the gun and stormed out of the room like a raging tempest. Under the guidance of a young yet sturdy man, he began driving at reckless speed.
“Where is she?” Atlas asked the man seated beside him.
The man directed him along the way, and soon they arrived at the place—it was a secluded spot deep within the woods, a hidden location where a small, makeshift room stood beneath a crude roof.
As Atlas stepped inside, his gaze swept across the surroundings. There were traces of blood on the floor… and in one corner, a girl sat slumped in a wounded, fragile state. It felt as though Atlas’s soul had been torn from his body at the sight.
She was unconscious—her head bowed, her body bearing the marks of suffering. The pain had clearly overwhelmed her.
Tears welled in Atlas’s eyes the moment he saw her. In a low voice, he instructed the man beside him to leave. Once he was alone, Atlas collapsed to his knees before Emma and broke down in silent anguish.
Emma remained unconscious, unaware of his grief.
Gently, with trembling hands, he lifted her face—beautiful, yet marred by injury—and whispered,
“Emma… you are the part of my soul I only realized today… you are the light that entered my life… open those ocean-like eyes… I’m here… look at me… Atlas Grey is here with you.”
With utmost care, he wiped away the blood from her lips. As he did so, it was as though he himself felt every ounce of her pain.
“Oh God… what have they done to this beautiful face…” he murmured, his voice breaking.
He lowered his head, resting it against her, overcome with sorrow.
“Forgive me… I couldn’t protect you from my ruthless mother…” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation and remorse.
After a while, composing himself, Atlas carefully lifted her into his arms in a bridal carry. Moving slowly and with great caution, he laid her down on the back seat of the car. Gently brushing her hair away, his gaze fell upon her lips—no longer delicate, but badly injured. He softly touched them with his fingers, then closed the door, circled around, and started the engine.
The car sped along the long roads until it finally came to a halt at the grand entrance of a hospital. He called for a stretcher and instructed them to take her inside. For some time, the doctors examined her, after which a nurse was told to tend to her wounds and dress them.
The doctor soon stepped outside and informed Atlas, “There is no major complication—the patient is stable… however, this appears to be a case of violence. You will need to file a report at the police station.”
Atlas simply murmured his thanks, for he was in no state to say anything more.
He stood at the doorway of the room, looking through the glass at the very presence that, upon their first meeting, had stolen his breath—and now, at this moment, had wounded his very soul.
He was utterly exhausted, every part of him feeling shattered, yet in his heart he continued to plead for that fragile being—that she remain safe.
And that presence was Emma Watson, who had now become an inseparable part of Atlas Grey’s soul.
Hours slipped by, and it was well past midnight, yet Emma had not regained consciousness. Atlas, drained beyond measure, fell asleep on a bench outside the hospital. Every part of him ached—not from physical wounds, but from a deep, invisible pain that had struck his very soul, inflicted by those he once called his own.
"I stood as the architect,
with blueprints of my soul,
Repairing shattered pieces,
to make your spirit whole."
[S.R.H.N.]🕊️✨
5th August 2025:
She lay unconscious upon the hospital bed, while the faint light of dawn gently spilled brightness across the room. Yet her eyes did not open to witness that light.
On the other side, Atlas — who had spent the entire night silently enduring his wounds, burying his pain deep within his chest — opened his eyes with the very first rays of morning. He rose immediately and pressed himself against the glass pane of the door, staring into the room where that young maiden lay unconscious, utterly unaware of the anguish raging within Atlas’s wounded heart.
He waited for those beautiful eyes to open — the very eyes that had left an unshakable impression upon his soul. In silence, he continued to gaze at her, his eyes fixed upon her motionless form. Yet she still remained unconscious, utterly detached from the world and everything within it, carrying nothing but the torment of the wounds that were painfully evident upon her body and face.
“Mr. Atlas, it would be better if you got some rest for a while,” the nurse said softly, her face marked with concern for him.
He merely shook his head in refusal, his gaze never once leaving the young maiden lying beyond the glass.
“How is Miss Emma’s condition now?” he asked the nurse without taking his eyes off her for even a moment. The nurse looked at him with a faint smile upon her lips.
“Are you in love with Miss Emma, Mr. Atlas?” she asked gently.
She appeared to be somewhere around forty or forty-five years of age, with strands of grey woven through her hair and a delicate rosy hue resting upon her face.
Atlas slowly turned his head toward the nurse, while a glimmer of unshed tears shimmered within his eyes. Helplessness was consuming him, for the girl lying there was the very one he loved beyond measure — and she was enduring all this suffering because of her love for him.
Because she had become his.
“She is the love of my life,” he whispered faintly.
Then, standing before the nurse with desperate helplessness, he clasped his hands together in plea. “Do anything… but please, don’t let anything happen to Emma. Please… please…”
His voice broke beneath the weight of grief as he collapsed to the floor, his folded hands trembling in desperation.
It was clear.
she was his.
And he was her.
witnessing such sights,
Only to realize, in the end
that nothing was ever truly gained
from it. "
" 🕊️❥𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆𝒃❥🕊️ "
Once, I heard my mother say that when a woman falls in love, a man often wishes to become her first love. Yet what many fail to understand is that the man a woman loves for the last time is the one she loves beyond all limits — a love so consuming that it leaves her heart forever restless.
And so, I plead with men: never strive to become a woman’s first love, for first love is often like the cold breeze of winter — fleeting, destined to fade away with time.
But a woman’s last love burns within her chest like a living ember, unceasing and eternal, consuming her soul for as long as she breathes.
And Atlas Grey, too, was the last love of Emma Watson’s life. From the moment she met him, she had begun to see the world through his eyes. Perhaps that was the very reason she still clung to life despite enduring such unbearable pain — because Atlas Grey was her final love, and for him, she still wished to live.
5:36 O'clock.
When Emma finally awoke, Atlas was still standing outside. The very instant he noticed the slightest movement from her, he rushed through the door and hurried inside.
“Emma… are you alright? You frightened me,” he said, sitting beside her the moment he reached her.
She looked at him and smiled faintly — and in that single smile, Atlas felt as though he had regained his entire world.
“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at her with unwavering concern.
Slowly, she lifted her hand toward him, silently waiting for him to take it in his own. Without a moment’s hesitation, Atlas placed his hand into hers.
Atlas felt as though he might break down in tears. Lowering his eyes, he whispered in a voice heavy with remorse, “Forgive me… I could not protect you.”
Yet she continued to look at him with that smile upon her lips — a smile so devoted, as though she would willingly lay down her life for him.
“I’m alright, Atlas,” she murmured softly.
Her fingers gently traced the palm of his hand, and Atlas felt a profound sense of peace flowing through his veins, soothing the chaos within him.
For a while, he remained seated there in silence, his head lowered as though burdened by emotions too deep for words. Then, softly and with immense tenderness, he spoke.
“Will you marry me, Miss Emma Watson?”
At his words, tears gathered instantly within Emma’s eyes.
“How could I possibly refuse?” she whispered.
She slowly sat up and wrapped herself against his chest. The two of them clung to one another like entwined blossoms upon the same stem — inseparable and delicate. Atlas breathed in her fragrance as though he wished to imprison it forever within his soul, while Emma felt her breaths turning beautifully uneven in his embrace.
In that moment, peace reigned everywhere.
And thus, their profound love finally reached its completion. Yet the story did not end there — for much still remained, enough to further ignite the fire already burning within their hearts.
1 SEPTEMBER 2025:
A mother’s prayer still guards her son when all the
lights grow dim,
For in her heart he stays the child the whole world
could not dim.
" 🕊️❥𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆𝒃❥🕊️ "
Dawn had barely broken when the heavens were swallowed by dense, brooding clouds, while a merciless rain descended upon the earth with relentless fury. He stood motionless beside the window of his room, his eyes glistening with silent sorrow and unspoken anguish. A thousand chaotic thoughts ravaged his mind, yet he remained painfully powerless, incapable of altering the cruel reality before him.
It had been a month since his bond with Emma had blossomed into something profound, and within that fleeting span of time, they had found a rare and breathtaking happiness in one another. Yet the harrowing night of 19th August had mercilessly devastated his soul, leaving behind nothing but wreckage, despair, and wounds too deep for words to mend.
On the evening of 18th August 2025, at exactly five minutes past seven, a tragedy unfolded — it was a suicide attempt. Atlas Grey’s mother lay sprawled across the room, drenched in crimson blood that stained every corner of the silence surrounding her. A gun still rested lifelessly in her trembling hand, the same weapon whose merciless bullets had torn through her body — two buried deep within her abdomen, while the final shot had pierced her skull.
Her half-opened eyes remained frozen in a haunting emptiness as she lay unconscious against the foot of the bed, suspended between life and death, like a shattered soul abandoned by hope itself.
Atlas returned home at nearly thirty-five minutes past seven that night. Without uttering a single word, he quietly disappeared into his own room, carrying the same cold detachment that had long settled within him. His relationship with his mother had never truly been stable; years of distance, bitterness, and unspoken resentment had built an impenetrable wall between them. Perhaps that was why he never felt the desire to visit her room or seek her presence, as though the bond between mother and son had withered long ago into nothing more than silence and estrangement.
He stood in his room, absently drying his damp hair with a towel. Atlas was dressed in a grey hoodie paired with black sweatpants, his appearance as restless and disheveled as the storm raging beyond the windows. The atmosphere was drowned in an eerie stillness—until a bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence.
The entire mansion reverberated with terror, the echo of that scream tearing through every corridor like a violent storm. In an instant, Atlas bolted out of his room like a man consumed by panic, the towel slipping from his grasp as dread seized his entire being.
“What happened? Who’s screaming?” he shouted breathlessly as he rushed through the corridors toward his mother’s room. But the moment his eyes fell upon the horrifying scene before him, it felt as though his very soul had been ripped apart.
Atlas froze in sheer devastation, his entire being trembling violently as terror coursed through his veins. The sight of his mother lying in that grotesque state drained every ounce of color from his face, leaving him hollow, shattered, and unable to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before his eyes.
He stepped into the room in absolute silence, his movements slow and fragile, as though even the faintest sound might shatter the dreadful reality before him. Quietly, he lowered himself beside his mother, his trembling fingers gently reaching for her hand. With tear-filled eyes and a heart paralyzed by fear, he sat there motionless, as if making too much noise would cause fate itself to snatch her away from him forever.
“Mom…? Please, open your eyes…” he whispered brokenly, giving her hand another desperate shake, terror consuming him with every passing second.
“Mom…?”
It was nothing more than a final, trembling murmur swallowed by silence. No response came. Not a breath, not a movement. And then, within moments, that suffocating stillness was violently shattered by Atlas Grey’s agonizing screams, echoing through the entire mansion like the cries of a soul being torn apart. Clinging to his mother like a helpless child, he broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably as grief consumed every fragment of him.
Through blurred vision and trembling sobs, his gaze suddenly fell upon a crumpled piece of paper resting on the bedside table. His hands quivered violently as he reached for it, every breath uneven, every movement burdened with dread. With unbearable hesitation, Atlas unfolded the letter, the paper shaking between his fingers as though it carried the weight of everything left unsaid.
Your Mother:
I do not know why, but I was never able to treat you the way a mother should treat her son. I kept you at a distance, always pushing you away from the warmth and affection you deserved. Perhaps I was too broken within myself to ever become the mother you needed…
But despite all my failures, I am happy that you finally found love — a love capable of giving you the happiness and comfort I could never offer you myself.
But there is one truth I must confess before I leave this world behind — I have always loved you more deeply than words could ever express. Perhaps that was the very reason I never allowed you to come too close to me. I lived in constant fear… fear that one day someone or something would take you away from me. And so, in my selfish terror, I built endless distances between us, believing it would protect my heart from breaking.
But now, I can only beg for your forgiveness.
Moonlight…
Your mother loves you beyond measure. Yet I no longer possess the strength to continue living. And yes, my love, the entire business now belongs to you.
The final lines trembled before Atlas’s tear-filled eyes, each word carving deeper wounds into his already shattered soul. Because despite everything — despite the coldness, the silence, and the years of distance — his mother had always loved her “Moonlight” more than life itself.
It was the final letter his mother would ever write to him — the last remnants of a love buried beneath years of silence and distance. And as those words settled into his heart, Atlas broke apart completely. He collapsed beside her like a man robbed of his very soul, clinging to her lifeless body while broken sobs escaped his trembling lips.
“Your Moonlight loves you too… more than you could ever know,” he cried helplessly, his voice fractured beneath the weight of unbearable grief. “Only I know what your coldness, your distance, and those endless years did to me… how deeply they scarred my heart. Please forgive me, Mom…”
With shaking hands and tears streaming endlessly down his face, he gently closed her half-opened eyes, as though trying to grant her the peace she could never find in life. Then, in suffocating silence, he remained there beside her motionless body, holding her close one final time, unwilling to let go of the only person he had spent his entire life yearning for.
MAY YOU ALL ENJOY IT .
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