As the car continued its journey, Mira's mind was consumed by thoughts of her late father's debt to Zamian. She wondered just how much her father had owed compared to the money Zamian had recently sent. The sum seemed vast, and she realized that even if she tried to use it, she would be unable to spend it all within six months. The enormity of the debt weighed heavily on her.
Upon arriving at the mansion, Mira stepped out of the car and made her way inside. The grandeur of the mansion always impressed her, with its high ceilings and elegant decor. She walked into the room, only to find it empty. Assuming Zamian was still at work, she waited patiently. Just then, a soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Nana entered with a graceful bow.
"Ms. Mira, Master Zamian would like to see you in his office," Nana announced.
Mira nodded, and together they proceeded to Zamian's office. The office was a striking blend of modern luxury and classic elegance. The walls were adorned with dark wood paneling and large, abstract paintings. A sleek, glass desk dominated the space, behind which Zamian sat in a high-backed leather chair. The room was well-lit, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city below. The furniture was arranged with meticulous care, each piece chosen for its sophistication.
As Mira entered, she observed Zamian holding a file, which she assumed contained the contract they needed to sign. His office, with its minimalistic design and soft ambient lighting, created an atmosphere of authority and calm. Mira felt a pang of nervousness, her palms slightly sweaty as she took in the room's opulence.
Zamian looked up from the file, his gaze meeting Mira's. For a moment, their eyes locked, and Mira felt a strange sensation—a mix of tension and something she couldn't quite place. She quickly averted her gaze, focusing on the file instead. Despite her attempt to remain composed, the intensity of their brief exchange left her unsettled. She cleared her throat and spoke, trying to sound confident, "I'd like to discuss something about the contract."
Zamian's expression remained inscrutable as he gestured for her to continue. Mira took a deep breath, determined to voice her concerns. "Regarding the clause about extending the four-month period to eight months if I don't provide an heir—I want to assure you that I will make sure everything works out within the four months."
Zamian remained silent, his face a mask of indifference. He picked up a golden pen from the desk and signed the contract with deliberate, slow movements. The elegance of the pen contrasted sharply with the gravity of the contract. Once he finished, he extended the pen towards Mira, his gesture formal and detached.
Mira stepped forward, reaching out to take the pen from him. As their hands briefly touched, a shiver ran down her spine—not one of fear, but a strange, unsettling feeling she couldn't immediately understand. She brushed it off, focusing on signing the document with a steady hand. Her heart raced slightly as she finished, feeling the weight of the contract's implications.
Once she completed her signature, she stood up, her posture rigid. Zamian's voice was cold and final as he said, "You may leave."
Mira hesitated, her resolve strengthening. She met his gaze, her eyes steady as she said, "Mr. Zamian, I hope you understand that these four months will count regardless of whether you travel outside the country or not. After the four months, we'll be signing our divorce papers."
Zamian's gaze remained fixed on her for a moment longer before he returned to his paperwork. Mira turned and left the room, the door closing quietly behind her. As she walked down the corridor, she could still feel the weight of Zamian's stare on her back. The tension from their earlier interaction lingered in her mind, and she couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized.
Mira decided to take a quick bath to unwind. She entered the bathroom, a sanctuary of tranquility with its soft lighting and modern fixtures. The bathtub, elegantly shaped and filled with warm water, beckoned her. She sank into it, letting the warmth envelop her as she tried to clear her mind and plan for the next four months. The peaceful solitude of the bathroom was a welcome contrast to the intensity of the office.
Just as she was about to continue her routine, Mira heard the sound of the bathroom door handle turning. Her heart skipped a beat, and she tensed up. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise. In a moment of panic, she shouted, "I'm here!" The handle stopped turning, and she let out a sigh of relief, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. She quickly splashed some water on her face, trying to compose herself and avoid any further awkwardness.
After finishing her bath, Mira stood up and began blow-drying her hair. Despite her efforts to focus on her appearance, the earlier embarrassment lingered in her thoughts. She knew that hiding from Zamian was futile; her main task was to give him a child, and that required confronting her own insecurities. Her cheeks reddened as she reflected on this, but she pushed the thoughts aside, determined to get ready and face the day.
Dressed in her usual baggy t-shirt and shorts, Mira emerged from the bathroom. She found Zamian lounging on the couch, his legs crossed as he focused intently on his iPad. The sight of him reminded her of the importance of getting used to his presence for the next four months.
Taking a deep breath, Mira walked over and sat on the bed, trying to settle her nerves. Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. It was Zack calling. Mira hesitated, knowing that even if she answered, Zamian would likely remain distant. They were only married by contract, not by affection. Nonetheless, she decided to take the call.
"Hi, Zack," she said, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. The air seemed to grow heavier, but Mira tried to remain unaffected by Zamian's intimidating presence.
"Yeah, I'm free. I'll meet you at the café where we usually get coffee," she replied before hanging up. As she moved towards the door, she felt a strong hand grasp her wrist.
"Don't go," Zamian's voice was low, but firm. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through Mira, causing her to turn back and meet his gaze once more. The intensity of the moment made her heart race, and she struggled to maintain her composure as she faced Zamian's penetrating stare.