The challenge in her words seemed to break through his fury. His grip loosened slightly, though he still held her against the wall, his breath hot against her cheek. For a moment, they were locked in a silent standoff, their faces inches apart, their breathing heavy in the quiet room.
Maahir's eyes flickered with something unreadable, his rage momentarily giving way to confusion, as if he didn't quite know why he had acted the way he did. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn't come. Instead, he just stared at her, his expression torn between anger and something else—something vulnerable, perhaps even regretful.
Mahnoor's gaze softened for the briefest of moments, but she quickly masked it with her usual cold defiance. She wasn't going to let him see even a hint of weakness. Not now, not ever.
"You think you can keep pushing me like this?" she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "You want control, but you're the one falling apart, Maahir."
Her words struck him like a blow, and for a split second, something in his eyes cracked. But just as quickly, his expression hardened again. He released her abruptly, stepping back with a harsh exhale.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered, his voice hoarse. He backed away, but his eyes never left hers, still burning with unresolved anger. "You think you're better than me, Mahnoor, but you're just as lost in this mess as I am."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Mahnoor stood against the wall, her breathing slowly returning to normal as the adrenaline began to fade. Her body ached from the tension, but her mind was sharp, still buzzing with the intensity of the confrontation. She didn't know what Maahir wanted from her—whether it was some twisted sense of justice, control, or simply to provoke a reaction—but she knew one thing: she wasn't going to let him break her. Not now, not ever.
As the door swung gently on its hinges, the silence of the night settled back into the room. But Mahnoor knew that this was far from over.
Mahnoor paced her room, her body still buzzing with unresolved energy. The confrontation with Maahir had left her rattled, but something deeper gnawed at her. His rage, his outbursts—they weren't just about her or their complicated past. There was something else driving him tonight, something she needed to understand.
She slipped her feet into her slippers, her hands trembling slightly with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, and without another thought, she stormed out of her room. Her steps were swift and purposeful as she made her way down the hall toward Maahir's room. The door was slightly ajar, just as it had been earlier when she pulled Farida out.
Mahnoor pushed it open with force, and Maahir was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The wreckage of his earlier outburst still lay scattered around him—broken glass, toppled furniture, and the remnants of his anger. His shoulders were hunched, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him like a heavy shroud.
He didn't look up as she entered, but the tension in the air was thick, the anger still palpable.
"Get out, Mahnoor." His voice was rough, barely controlled, and full of warning.
She ignored him, her steps steady as she approached him, her eyes burning with determination. "What the hell happened?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "What made you lose control like that?"
"I said leave!" Maahir shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with fury. "I'm not in the mood for your games, Mahnoor. Leave me alone, or you'll face the same wrath that your intervention saved my mother from."
His words were venomous, a challenge, but Mahnoor didn't flinch. Her breath quickened, but she stood her ground. She was done playing around. Before he could react, she closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Her hands shot up, grabbing his face firmly, her fingers pressing into his skin as she forced him to look at her.
"Tell me the truth," she said, her voice a sepulchral whisper that sent a chill through the air. Her eyes bored into his, unyielding, relentless.
Maahir froze, his breath hitching as her grip tightened. For a moment, the shock of her audacity left him speechless. No one had ever handled him like this—especially not Mahnoor. His anger flickered, but so did something else. He could see the fire in her eyes, and for the first time, he faltered.
"You think you can intimidate me?" he spat, but the words rang hollow. Mahnoor's unblinking stare told him she wasn't leaving until he answered.
"Tell. Me. The. Truth."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. His eyes flickered, and for the first time that night, the mask he'd been wearing cracked. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts as he tried to hold onto the anger, but Mahnoor's grip, her intensity—it broke something in him.
"I—I couldn't take it anymore," he finally spat, his voice shaking with the weight of the truth. "You don't get it, Mahnoor. I've been living in this house for years, watching, waiting. Do you think it's easy being the outsider, knowing I'm never going to have what you do?"
Mahnoor's grip softened slightly, but she didn't let go. She remained silent, letting him speak, feeling the rawness of his words begin to unravel the tension between them.
"Everyone looks at me like I'm a threat, like I don't belong here," Maahir continued, his voice bitter. "Even my mother, she thinks—she hopes that somehow, I'll be part of this family. But no one in this damn house wants me here."
His eyes burned with resentment, but the vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. "I've spent years proving myself to your father, doing everything I can to be useful, to show him I'm worth something. But no matter what I do, it's you, always you."
Mahnoor's breath caught, her fingers still resting against his face. She had always known there was resentment between them, but hearing the words spoken aloud changed something.
"I lashed out because I hate it. I hate feeling like I'm not enough," Maahir admitted, his voice raw, pained. "I almost hit my mother because she was pushing me, telling me to be patient, to keep trying—but I'm tired, Mahnoor. I'm tired of always coming second."
For a long moment, the two stood in silence, Maahir's ragged breathing filling the space between them. Mahnoor slowly released her grip, letting her hands drop to her sides, but her eyes never left his. She could feel the truth of his words settle in, the weight of years of anger and frustration boiling to the surface.