A beautiful collage made for us by my beautiful reader Zernain 💫

The first stroke, second stroke, third stroke, Haani sighed loudly. His sigh echoed through the empty room and stroke every barren wall, making it evident how his life matched them. Barren and empty like those walls. He picked up a different brush, a thicker one. Dipped it in water and coated it with a texture of a darker shade. And he painted a fifth stroke on his canvas. Surely his abstract wasn't portraiture of dungeons of his mind. He was at lack of inspiration.

This was now his sixth painting that turned out to be a total failure. They say whatever colours you splash over the canvas, mingling them together, no matter what the forte it is in, it will always make a good abstract painting and speak out a meaning of its own. But these abstract theories were very absurd, especially to an artist like Haani. His paintings were shades of his life; his past and present. Though he didn't expect much from the future either.

Grabbing the cloth from the nearby table, he freed his hands from the different colours of his recent failures. His paintings weren't offering him freedom anymore. When he'd paint, he'd lose himself in it. It would be like a loophole to his freedom, no matter how short-lived it might be. But these past few days, his paintings seemed to trap him in pits of glooms instead. There was something missing and he was aware of it very well. But he couldn't put his finger on a single missing chord and objectify it.

He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. Desperation seemed to reek from every seam within him. After all, he was a world-famous Artist. His paintings would sell for the price equal to feed half a tribe of people for a few years straight. But now, it seemed like he forgot how to draw even. The pressure was sinking in with each passing day. It had been a year since his last exhibition. He wasn't nervous, he was angry now.

Slowly, he walked towards the wooden table engraved in an ancient wood design carrying his painting equipment. His hand reached out and grabbed the china clay white colour vessel that held pitch-black water. A shade from all the brushes with different paints it held had mingled together.

He picked up the vessel and held it casually, shaking its liquid contents. Taking I long deep breath of frustration, he stepped in front of his ruined canvas and stared at it for a minute. Further implying to destruct it, he swirled his hand backwards and with a swift motion splashed his painting with the black liquid. Droplets started dripping down onto the white marbled floor. The paints came off and dripped onto the floor.

This was now a routine he preferred to perform with every of his ruined painting. Like it would somehow wash away his increasing anxiety. To say he was getting tired of it, was an understatement. But where to find his inspiration was a question he asked himself for over a year now.

He stared at the sunrise outside the glass window of his studio that covered an entire wall. He was mesmerized by its beauty but it no more inspired him to start off a new day with a new beginning, probably when he felt gloomy in certain parts of it.

Frustration is what posses a man like a devil and keep him from doing what he utmost desires. In such moments a person forgets the real causes and rather slumber into his darkest pits. Haani was frustrated with not just his lack of intuition but also the fears of his mere reality that held him from approaching new creeds.

Walking out of the room, Haani signalled the maid girl sternly. With a nod of acknowledgement, she entered his painting studio to clean up his caused mess. He never let anyone in there except for the housekeeper, for cleaning purposes only. This was the one-room apart from his own bedroom that he did not allow to be invaded by even the scent of another human being.

He turned in the hallway towards his own room and got inside, slamming the door shut to his privacy. With a frustrated groan, he pulled at the collar of his shirt and took it off. Tossing it to the furthest corner of his room, he walked towards his bed and sprawled over it.

His room was simple yet manly elegant. It had bare walls, like the rest of his house. He didn't like the idea of hanging paintings and portraits. It felt like hanging some other person's fantasies and dark secrets on the walls of his privacy. He certainly wasn't a person who fancied intruders.

To say he was a complete loner, was understandable. Apart from his working staff at his house and office, he didn't have many interactions with any being to be specific. People around him understood this fact clearly. No one ever heard him even talk much except for ordering them around.

He had a huge bed in the heart of his room accompanied by nightstands on each side with white side lamps. Everything was a shade of white. That's one colour he loved most. White is the combination of all seven colours, just like his personality. Though he was certain he was a shade of black and not white he could pretend being white instead. Everyone fake shades in life after all.

Getting up, he walked towards his washroom which was the size of a mini apartment in itself and started running the shower. Cold showers helped him relax his nerves and let him ponder over the reasons for his empirical existence. Inspiration was one word that ran constantly through his head.

Haani Villa was indeed really huge, comprising of many well-furnished rooms and luxuries. But what else could you expect from a rich and famous Artist and businessman like Haani Fateen? He was a name imprinted on the front of every tabloid. Apart from his paintings, his very own company of art equipment and event management of art exhibitions across the world, he was known for his arrogance, cold and stern personality. Yes, he was one of the very eligible bachelors in the United States but that didn't suppress the fact he was never once seen with a date. Many of the reporters even termed him as gay. But that only caused them Haani's wrath in return. The press was indeed scared of him. He had a crude impression on every breathing human.

Turning off the shower he stepped out and entered his walking closet. A person whose name was imprinted in the fashion in codes, he didn't cease to keep the perfect impression even at his own house. Grabbing a white silk button-up shirt and trouser pants accompanied by a royal blue suit jacket, he changed into them. He wasn't fond of walking in silk robes around his house like other elite class people. He certainly liked to be well dressed.

Slowly and gracefully making his way downstairs, he reached his kitchen door in a few long strides. It was six in the morning and he knew it was too early for his chef to be present. But hunger taking its verge, he wanted to feed himself on his own and leave for office. He had a lot to do today, too much paperwork and his confirmations on certain decisions were waiting for him there. For certain, he didn't depend on anyone.

He heard faint sounds of utensils being banged against each other. For a moment his eyes widened at the thought of some stranger invading his privacy. But then he knew he had very tight security for any hacker to practically cross it. Neither was there any way for his chef Abdul to come this early in the morning. Abdul was a man of punctuality.

Quietly opening the door wider for his view, he noticed the lights on. Sneaking past the slight crack he entered into the kitchen without making a sound or grabbing attention. He knew he should've called the security instead but something stopped him from doing so. He adjusted his vision within the dim crescents of light and took in the view around. The movement in front of him caught his attention.

Near the central kitchen island stood a tall figure. From the dress code, he knew it was a female. Wrapped in a long skirt and loose linen blouse stood a woman with her back towards him. From her posture, he knew she was busy doing something. His mind registered the propositions of the situation and he knew he could tackle her without a warning or a chance of using any weapon against him.

He took slow and quiet steps towards her. She shifted a bit in her trance which stopped him from further going. Waiting a few moments he stuck onto his plan again and made his way towards her. He knew he was much stronger and could easily manage to trap this woman.

In one swift motion, he curled his hand around her waist, snaked his other hand towards her throat and clasped it tight over her mouth. He slammed her figure into his chest and held her tight against himself. He felt a shiver string through her body. Her body heat radiated within her and he could feel her warmth. He noticed she was wearing a headscarf and the cloth felt soft against his chin. She was tall, but not as tall as his 6'4 height.

She started squirming in his brace to let herself free of his tight hold but Haani didn't as much as bulge. He lowered his mouth towards her ear that was covered by her headscarf and addressed her in a slow whisper.

"If you as much as move, I'll call the security on you, understand?" He warned her in a deadly thick voice. The woman beneath him quivered in fear but instantly stopped every motion. For a moment he thought she passed out but when she nodded her head in a yes, he knew he had caught her off guard.

His satisfaction went vain when she bit down hard on his hand to make him shriek in pain and loose his tight grip on her. "Uh, woman you're crazy." He yelled at her and snatched back his hand.

Abruptly he swirled her around and pushed her fragile body towards the kitchen island. She was trapped between his body and the hard marble island, she had no means of escape now. He placed both his arms on either side of her on the island and leaned into her closing the gap between them. He could hear her rapid breathing and hammering heartbeat. The chandelier above the island was the only illumination in the gigantic kitchen that was lit.

He brought his gaze towards her face and froze with a gasp. He was staring into a pair of sea-green eyes. They were as lush as the sea and promising same depths. They were glassed with tears and fright. Her eyes flickered over his from left to right. She took a sharp intake of air and stilled. He found his mouth going dry. If he could call anything beautiful in its true accord that certainly would be this creation before him.

They both were breathing within the same air and he had invaded her private space no doubt. He flashed his gaze over her horrified face and registered every single stance on it. From her big lush eyes to her button tiny nose and her small plum round mouth that was now a bit swollen from his tight clasp to her high cheekbones. By the red brims under her eyes and her fragile body in his embrace, he figured she didn't take good care of herself. She was very young, lush with youth and fresh with beauty. Her chest rose and fell with her each heavy breath.

He stepped even closer that their limbs touched. The girl's eyes widened with sudden panic and her body trembled with fear. He wanted to tell her he won't hurt her but he was caught in her trance to even voice his words. The earlier thoughts all vanished away into thin air and he was stuck in a moment that felt eternity of staring at her with fascination. Yes, she fascinated him, he registered that fact evilly.

A corner of his mouth turned into an amused half-smile. Haani never smiled much but he did now anyways. He was amused by this women and fascinated with her beauty. This was something very new to him.

"Pa-please, do-don't hurt me." Her soft voice spluttered in fear and he glared at her even more amused. Her voice matched her beauty, it was soft and sounded like ringing bells.

"And why shouldn't I? You're the one invading my privacy. How did you manage to sneak in?

I'm sure I have very tight security around here, so better tell me who helped you since I know it's impossible to cross the premises without getting caught." Haani calmly asked her when he noted she was clearly scared of him. That's what women were to him, fragile beings. One sharp look and you'll make them speak and do anything you prefer.

But the expression she gave confused him. "W-what?" She asked him with shock covering her features. She was showing off innocence and he assumed she was indeed a cunning sneaky woman trying to trick him. But he wasn't to be fooled rather she was simply fooling herself into thinking so.

"No games lady, so better speak the truth." He inched closer to her face and gave her a deadly glare to imprint the fact that he was the one with dominant moves in this situation. But that didn't rub the confused and terrified look off her face. For a moment he was taken aback by her innocence. She stared at him with wide sea-green eyes clouded with thick lashes. Her face was stainless from any makeup. She had a natural blush creeping up her cheeks, it was either from nervousness or his closeness.

He stepped back after a few silent seconds, giving her excess to her private space but clearly didn't move too far for her to manage a sneaky escape. He felt the loss of her body heat suddenly. Space gave her immediate confidence and she crooked her head up to give him a glare instead.

This women certainly had issues with closures he assumed. "Who are you?." She raised her voice in a new confidence. He chuckled at her stupidity to think of tricking him into this trap by pretending to not know him. But her glare did not subside.

She further proposed "I did not sneak in, I'm not an intruder." It further interested him, one moment when he was closer to her invading her private bubble, she seemed terrified. And the next moment when he stepped back, she seemed to have suddenly gone all brave. Something was really wrong with her psychology.

Haani titled his head to have a better look at this astonishing creature. She seemed to notice he wasn't going to believe her. With a sigh, she folded her hands over her chest and gave in another attempt "If I were a thief I won't be cooking meals here for Mr Fateen in his kitchen and rather be at some other place where I can get my hands over much valuable and costly stuff to steal." She gestured her hand around the kitchen in an attempt to make her point valid.

Haani seemed to register the facts she spoke and she was right he realized. He looked behind her and saw a mess of chopped vegetables. "And who do you think I am?" He asked her clearly confused. She did know whose house this was but clearly didn't know who he was.

"A guy who apparently can't stop glaring at me." She sounded annoyed. This earned her a laugh from him. She took in his view, he was tall certainly and well built. His features were no less, he had bluish-grey eyes brushed with thick lashes, a pointed nose, full lips, a dense jaw set and sun-kissed skin tone. In simple words, he was very good looking. A guy any woman would kill for but she wasn't any woman and she knew that. And also there weren't only looks to a guy, a lesson she had learnt the hard way around.

"You tell me, who are you?" He asked her a question he should've asked her before humiliating her. She frowned at him.

"Why should I tell you?" She challenged him sternly. Haani was clearly infatuated by her at this point. She was different, she didn't know who he was and she certainly wasn't throwing herself at him like all the other women he had ever come across.

"Because I'm Mr Fateen's security guard and I certainly know all the workers here. You're not one of them and neither I remember hiring you." He informed her calmly. He wanted to play with her lack of acknowledgement. She seemed to be a person who probably knew how to speak her mind out and she was stubborn too.

"Well, that's none of your business to know. I work for Mr Fateen and I'll only tell him who I am." She lowers her gaze to his body and frowns again.

"Can you at least have the decency to move away now? I won't run." She angrily informed him. He took a few steps backwards abruptly. For one he noticed that the women in front of him certainly had morals. No women would reject his closeness even if she didn't know who he was. He knew for sure he did have that kind of influence over women but not her apparently.

"I'm going to complain about you to Mr Fateen." She gave him a warning sternly. Just when he was about to open his mouth to give her yet another witty reply the kitchen door opened and the maid girl from earlier entered. He never remembered their names.

"Mr Fateen I cleaned the room and locked it up, I placed the keys at their usual place." She informed him while smiling seductively at him when she saw him standing in the kitchen. They all knew how he was concerned about his privacy and terms, they'd make sure not to make any mistake or that would certainly cost them their jobs.

"Thanks." He cut her short and signalled her to get out. The maid rushed out without another word. She had disturbed his moment. How far would have his little act taken him with her if there wasn't the interruption, he could only imagine.

He looked towards the women standing before him, shock invading her features. "Mr Fa-Fateen?" She asked with wide eyes. He nodded at her with a smirk plastered on his face. This woman reacts very quickly and lets it be shown all over her face, he thought.

"I'm so sorry. I should've- Oh Allah... I'm really sorry." She kept babbling and panicking. She certainly was one of a kind, he mused at himself. He tried to reach for her but she flinched backwards. She was uncomfortable with the slightest of touches, he noted that to himself.

"It's okay." He claimed her with his soft voice. "Now tell me who are you?" He asked her once again.

"I'm Abdul's daughter. Father wasn't feeling well for a while now so I thought I'd come and do his job here until he gains back to his health." She explained calmly but soon looked at him with sudden fear. "I-I should've taken your permission first. I'm really sorry." She had a habit of constant apologizing, he noted again.

"It's okay, you can work until he gets better but who let you in?. " He informed her and asked her at the same time. Abdul had been working for him for quite a while now. He knew he had two daughters and his wife had passed away but he never considered his fate of ever coming across one of his daughters. He remembers one of his daughters being married but he didn't know which one of them. Nor he knew if she was the elder or the young but she did seem young and fresh.

Looking at her now, she was tremendous. Slender, pale skin tone like the milk, beautiful features, dedicated hands and of course a very outspoken mind, she was a bundle of bewilderment. He never felt attracted to any women before but this women certainly tingled a string within him.