Blood Roses & Broken Vows — Last Goodbye

The city of Aramont never forgave anyone.

It was a place where bullets spoke louder than prayers,

and loyalty was measured in fresh graves and silent scars.

Rayan Khan knew that better than anyone.

He stood under a flickering street lamp, rain soaking his collar, watching droplets slide down the petals of a white rose in his hand. He always brought one here — to the same narrow alley where love had once felt possible. Aisha used to tease him, calling him dramatic. He would just smirk and say:

“When a man lives in hell, even a flower feels like heaven.”

Tonight, the rose felt heavier.

Tonight felt like fate tying its final knot.

He turned when he heard footsteps — soft, hurried, familiar.

Aisha.

The name alone hurt like a memory that refused to fade.

She stopped when she reached him, chest rising in panic, breath trembling in the cold air.

“Rayan…” she whispered. His name was a wound on her tongue. “Why are you here again?”

He smiled gently — a smile cracked with pain and longing.

“I told you once, remember? I don’t leave the places where my heart stays.”

Tears filled her eyes. “You can’t keep doing this. They’re watching you. They want you dead.”

He shrugged lightly. “Death isn’t new to me.”

“No,” she snapped, voice breaking, “but you promised me you’d try to live.”

“I did.” His voice softened. “And for a moment, I almost believed I could.”

Rain fell harder, as if the sky felt the ache between them.

Aisha reached for his hand — but before their fingers touched, engines growled. Two black SUVs slid into the alley like hungry wolves.

Rayan’s jaw tightened. No surprise in his face — just resignation.

“They found me,” he murmured.

Aisha’s heart dropped. “Run.”

“I don’t run,” he said quietly. “Not anymore.”

Gun barrels appeared. Shadows filled the street. Men stepped out like death dressed in black suits.

The leader pointed his gun.

“Tonight ends the Khan legacy.”

Rayan didn’t look at them.

He looked only at her.

“I told you once,” he whispered, “love is the only thing I ever feared.”

“Rayan, please—” she choked, grabbing his coat.

He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her tear.

“If I die, promise me something.”

“What?” she cried.

“Don’t let this world turn you into me.”

Before she could speak, the night exploded.

Gunfire tore through the air.

Glass shattered.

A scream drowned under thunder.

Rayan moved before thought — shielding Aisha with his body, arms wrapped around her like she was the only truth he had ever known. Bullets ripped through him — one, two, three — each one stealing breath and future.

He didn’t fall at first.

He held her as if love alone could keep him standing.

Then his knees buckled.

He collapsed into her arms, blood staining her hands, her clothes, her life.

“Rayan!” she screamed, shaking him. “Stay with me! Look at me!”

He smiled faintly, pain flickering like dying fire.

“I never wanted to be a good man,” he rasped. “But with you… I almost was.”

“You were good,” she sobbed. “To me, you were everything.”

His fingers reached for the rose. It slipped from his hand, falling to the wet pavement — petals white no longer, stained red.

Rain washed the ground, but not enough to wash away tragedy.

His breathing slowed.

The world dimmed in his eyes.

“Aisha…” he whispered, voice barely air.

“Loving you was the only part of my life that felt real.”

His hand went limp.

Silence followed — the kind that breaks souls.

Aisha pressed her forehead to his, crying like the sky was collapsing inside her. The world moved on around them, sirens wailing in the distance, rain falling without pity.

She held him until morning, whispering the words she never said in time:

“Come back to me. Even in another life.”

The city forgot him — ruthless cities always do.

But every night after, Aisha left a white rose at the docks.

For the monster who died like a lover.

For a heart made of bullets and devotion.

For a story that ended in blood, but lived forever in memory.

Because some loves don’t survive this world.

Some loves are too beautiful, too broken, too dangerous for earth —

and so they choose eternity instead of tomorrow.