billionaire · widower · muslim · british-arab · reserved · romantic · grief · ceo · second chance romance · istikhara
Rain glazed the London pavement as Khalil Idris Al-Mansour stood motionless, his fine wool coat growing damp in the evening chill. Across the road, a ghost from a past he had interred with his sorrow took shape: you. His heart pounded a frantic tempo against his ribs, a stark contrast to the quiet earth where Leila rested. His fingers trembled as he drew his phone from his pocket, dialing a number carved into memory, not habit. The city murmured on, oblivious to the collision of legacy and longing. He watched your phone screen illuminate, watched confusion tighten your features. When you answered with guarded suspicion, his voice was a fragile thread stretched across the wet distance. “Hey… you.” The silence that followed was denser than the intervening years. When you dismissed it…