Star The Unfathomable Vampire
The Secrets
Omer’s Bedroom – Midnight
The luxurious room is dim.
Gold chandeliers cast long shadows across silk curtains and blood-red sheets.
Outside, the palace is silent. Inside, Maliha sits curled in a corner.
Her bridal dress is crumpled. Makeup smudged. Eyes swollen. Her forehead leans against the locked door.
Maliha Zara (FL)
(soft whisper)
Please...
Please someone open it. I’m not supposed to be here...
No reply.
Only silence.
Then—
Omer steps inside. Calm. Unbothered. Dressed in black. His gaze lands on her crumpled figure, still kneeling on the floor.
He shut the door behind him — click — sealing them inside.
Omer Dameer (ML)
You should be asleep.
Or at least... on the bed.
Maliha Zara (FL)
(whispers)
Don’t touch me.
Don’t come near me.
Omer Dameer (ML)
(walks closer)
Touch?
Who said anything about touching?
Omer Dameer (ML)
#He takes off his coat and places it neatly on the chair. Slowly unbuttons his cuffs. Walks around the room like he owns the world.#
Omer Dameer (ML)
Do you know why this happened, Maliha?
Maliha Zara (FL)
#No answer#
Omer Dameer (ML)
Because no one owns you like I do.
Not your dreams.
Not your body.
Not your future.
Nothing.....
Maliha Zara (FL)
(standing up shakily)
You don’t own anything.
You’re a coward. You had to trap me like this.
With guns. Threats. Blood.
Omer Dameer (ML)
(smiling)
Call it what you want.
But you still signed.
And now… you're mine.
Maliha Zara (FL)
You can lock the doors, Omer.
But you’ll never have me. Not really.
Omer Dameer (ML)
#Took one step forward.#
Maliha Zara (FL)
#She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.#
She simply stood there, shaking, eyes wide like a deer trapped between headlights and a blade.
He pins her against the wall. Not with violence—but sheer dominance. One arm beside her face, the other pressed near her waist. His breath steady. His eyes unreadable.
Maliha Zara (FL)
#Gasps, then SCREAMS#
LET ME GO!
She pushes him—once—then again—and then her fist flies—
Her knuckles smash into his jaw.
Blood runs down the corner of his lip. He tastes it.
Omer Dameer (ML)
(Smirks.)
Omer Dameer (ML)
(Chuckles low, dark)
That’s the real Maliha, hmm?
You’re going to be a powerful queen.
Maliha Zara (FL)
I’m not yours. I don’t care who you think you are.
Maliha Zara (FL)
#Her vision begins to blur. The rush. The adrenaline. The trauma.#
She collapses. He catches her before she hits the floor.
He looks down at her face. Soaked in tears. Beautiful. Broken.
Omer Dameer (ML)
(Without a word, he lifts her gently. Walks to the bed. Lays her down carefully like something precious.)
Omer Dameer (ML)
(He walks away without another word.
Grabs a pillow, a folded blanket, and heads to the couch at the edge of the room.)
Omer Dameer (ML)
Sleep well, Mrs. Omer Dameer.
Omer Dameer (ML)
(without opening his eyes)
You won’t find a door that opens without my permission.
At Fajr. Before sunrise....
Maliha Zara (FL)
#Wake up because of some sobbing sound coming from the walls maybe#
Maliha Zara (FL)
#The first thing she noticed was the ceiling—ornate, unfamiliar, royal. Her limbs stiffened against the silky bedsheets.#
Maliha Zara (FL)
Where... am I?
Her dress from last night still clung to her body. Crumpled. Untouched. Her hijab still pinned in place. The air around her was silent. Too silent.
A bouquet—two hundred scarlet roses—overflowing from a marble vase beside the window. And nestled between the blooms… a note.
Maliha picked it up with hesitant fingers.
Omer Dameer (ML)
(“Please. You still have a chance… Fall in love with me.”
— Omer)
Maliha Zara (FL)
#Her throat tightened.#
Tears rushed to her eyes, blurring the ink. A scream curled in her chest, but she swallowed it. Hard.
She wiped her cheeks harshly. As if angry at the emotion itself.
She stumbled out of bed, walking barefoot across the cold marble to the door that led to the bathroom.
Inside the luxurious bath chamber, steam swirled as water filled the tub.
She stepped in like a ghost—scrubbing the night away, her memories fragmented and foggy.
Her heart felt bruised, but her mind was blank. As if it refused to replay the truth.
When she stepped into the walk-in closet, her breath caught.
It was massive. Silent. Still holding Omer’s scent.
And hanging there…
A simple white gown. Soft linen. Modest. Next to it—a delicate white hijab, neatly folded with pearl pins.
She changed into it slowly. As if performing a ritual.
Maliha Zara (FL)
#She offered her Tahajjud and Fajr prayer.#
Then, like nothing had happened, she walked out into the sunlit corridors of the mansion—her steps light, her mind pretending.
Sidra Dameer (Friend-FL; Cousin-ML)
(Sat under the shade of an olive tree, sipping mint tea)
Sidra Dameer (Friend-FL; Cousin-ML)
Maliha Zara (FL)
(Sits down, tone calm, almost cheerful)
Good morning, Sid. What’s for breakfast?
Sidra Dameer (Friend-FL; Cousin-ML)
(Eyeing her slowly, lips twitching with something between amusement and confusion)
Sidra Dameer (Friend-FL; Cousin-ML)
You’re awake. Huh. I thought you’d… scream the mansion down.
Maliha Zara (FL)
(Smiling faintly as she picks up a croissant)
I had the strangest dream last night. But it’s gone now. I’m fine.
Sidra Dameer (Friend-FL; Cousin-ML)
(Sid narrowed her eyes. Suspicious. But didn’t push.)
Sidra Dameer (Friend-FL; Cousin-ML)
We’re finishing the drawing today. But listen—
(leans in slightly)
Don’t go near the north wing. Or Omer’s study room.
Maliha Zara (FL)
(Mock innocent, sipping orange juice)
Why? Ghosts?
Sidra Dameer (Friend-FL; Cousin-ML)
(Voice suddenly sharp)
No. Secrets.
After lunch, the garden emptied.
Sidra got busy with a phone call, and the guards outside melted into silence.
Maliha wandered the halls with quiet steps, tracing her fingers along the walls.
Then she found it.
Omer’s study room.
The wooden door stood tall at the end of a shadowed corridor.
Polished. Locked. But the handle turned when she tried it.
Bookshelves soared to the ceiling, filled with ancient leather tomes. The air smelled of old ink and pinewood. A massive desk stood near the window. Papers, maps, letters.
A globe. A telescope. A locked drawer.
And on the desk—
A photo. Of her.
Maliha froze.
It was a picture from years ago—a newspaper clipping with her school exhibition. She was smiling, paint on her hands.
And beneath it, written in the corner:
“I was waiting for her.....I knew her before she ever knew me.”
Maliha Zara (FL)
(whispers to herself)
North wing... Omer’s study. What are you hiding, Omer Dameer?
On the desk lies a thick file folder labeled in bold:
"M.Z — CASE SEALED / PRIVATE / DO NOT OPEN"
Maliha Zara (FL)
(whispers)
"M.Z...? That’s... me."
Maliha Zara (FL)
#She opens it slowly. Inside—
– A copy of her birth certificate
– Her childhood pictures
– Confidential documents
– Psychological assessment reports
– Medical files
– And lastly… a contract.#
A marriage contract with her signature.
Maliha gasps and drops it as if it burns.
Suddenly—
Door slams shut behind her.
Omer Dameer (ML)
(voice calm, terrifyingly soft)
"I warned you not to come here."
Maliha Zara (FL)
(Maliha whirls around, face pale.)
Maliha Zara (FL)
"You... forged it? You planned this? You—"
Omer Dameer (ML)
(slow steps forward)
I didn’t forge anything, Sayyed Maliha Zara. You signed it. Willingly. You just don’t remember.
Maliha Zara (FL)
(shaking)
"Liar."
Omer Dameer (ML)
You’re welcome to keep believing that
He walks to her, slowly, his presence suffocating. But he doesn’t touch her.
Omer Dameer (ML)
Next time... knock before you enter a lion’s den.
He picks up the contract, folds it, and places it back. Maliha stares at him, wide-eyed. Then—
Omer Dameer (ML)
I gave you the chance to fall in love with me. That was mercy. But mercy runs out.
Omer Dameer (ML)
So what is my qalbi doing here...?
Maliha Zara (FL)
(She stood up stiffly, lowering her gaze, guilt rushing through her like ice water.)
I—I was just looking for paper
Maliha Zara (FL)
(She murmured, voice barely above a breath.)
To draw.
Her body tensed as she finally moved to leave, but before she could reach the door, she felt a sudden tug—
No.
Not caught—held.
She froze.
Maliha Zara (FL)
Let it go, ( she said, trying to keep the panic from breaking through her voice.)
Still, he didn’t move. The warmth of his hand on the soft fabric behind her neck didn’t feel violent—but it didn’t feel safe either.
I said let go, (she whispered.)
She yanked it forward, hard, the fabric slipping from his fingers. Her hijab nearly fell off as she stumbled out of the study, barely catching it and pinning it back on while half-running down the hallway.
She didn’t look back.
Behind her, she didn’t hear footsteps chasing.
Omer stood in the doorway, lips curved in a dark smile.
Omer Dameer (ML)
My little flame,( he murmured under his breath,) Run while you still can.
Comments
Ellen Paul Estella
/Drool/
2025-07-26
2
Ellen Paul Estella
/Casual/
2025-07-26
2
Ellen Paul Estella
wow
2025-07-26
2