The morning sun poured through the grand windows of the estate, casting a golden glow over the marble floors. Yet, the warmth outside did little to thaw the icy tension within. I had spent the night tossing and turning, Serena's cryptic words and Ryan's guarded expression haunting my thoughts.
I descended the sweeping staircase to find Ryan already seated at the dining table, his phone in hand and a frown etched across his face. He barely glanced up as I entered, his focus seemingly elsewhere.
"Good morning," I greeted, my voice steady despite the awkwardness lingering from the night before.
Ryan looked up briefly, nodding. "Morning."
The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable, as I took my seat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and buttered toast filled the air, but my appetite was nowhere to be found.
"Are you always this pleasant in the mornings?" I asked, a touch of sarcasm slipping through.
Ryan's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Only when I have a lot on my mind."
"Serena?" I probed, unable to hold back my curiosity.
His eyes darkened instantly. "It's not something you need to concern yourself with."
I bristled at his dismissal but decided to let it go for now. There were other things to worry about. Like the fact that Serena seemed intent on stirring trouble, or the nagging suspicion that Ryan was keeping more from me than he let on. Before I could press further, the doorbell rang. Moments later, a butler appeared, announcing a visitor.
"Zahir Amani is here to see you, ma'am," the butler said, his tone polite but wary.
The room seemed to freeze. Ryan's head snapped up, his expression immediately hardening.
"What does he want?" Ryan demanded, his voice cold.
I rose from my seat, my heart pounding. "I'll handle it."
Ryan stood as well, his towering frame radiating an intimidating energy. "No. If he's here, it concerns both of us."
The moment Zahir stepped into the grand estate, his eyes locked onto her, and a torrent of emotions surged through him rage, betrayal, and an ache he could never put into words.
She stood there, poised yet wary, and it took every ounce of his control not to break the icy calm he projected. But behind his piercing gaze, the memories clawed at him relentlessly, pulling him into the past.
Flashback
It had started with a subtle feeling that something was amiss. That morning, he had noticed the main door of the apartment ajar, though he was certain he'd locked it the night before. It was strange, but not alarming until later, when his gut told him to check the CCTV footage.
As the grainy footage played on the screen, his world began to crumble. He saw her. She had been there that night, and she had seen everything.
There he was, rolling with the woman who had no business being in his life, let alone his home. The same woman who is the best friend of his fiancé leaned into him, her hands lingering where they shouldn't have.
And then he saw her her. The woman he had promised to protect, love, and cherish. She stood frozen in the doorway, watching the betrayal unfold before her eyes. Her hand flew to her mouth, her body trembling, before she turned and fled. The realization hit Zahir like a punch to the gut she had seen it all. She had seen his weakness, his failure, his betrayal.
He spent days wracked with guilt, rehearsing how he could face her and beg for forgiveness. But when he finally mustered the courage to see her, she was gone. Her resignation letter sat on her desk, her apartment was eerily empty, and the warmth she had brought into his life vanished like smoke.
The days that followed were torture. He searched endlessly, questioning everyone who might know where she had gone. Until finally, he uncovered the truth and it shattered him all over again.
She had married his uncle.
The rage he felt then was unlike anything he had ever known. It wasn't just the betrayal that infuriated him it was the realization that she had taken the ultimate step to erase him from her life.
"She's mine," he had hissed to himself, his knuckles white as he clutched the marriage certificate. "And no one takes what's mine."
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Now, standing before her, Zahir's voice was low and sharp, the calm before the storm. "You think running away and marrying my uncle would stop me from coming after you?"
She stiffened, her expression defiant, but he caught the flicker of fear in her eyes.
"You saw it that night," he continued, his voice breaking slightly despite his resolve. "You saw me fail you. And instead of giving me a chance to make things right, you left. You didn't just leave you destroyed us."
"I didn't destroy anything, Zahir," she shot back, her voice trembling. "You did."
His jaw clenched as her words struck him like a blow, but he didn't back down. "I made a mistake," he admitted, his tone softer but no less intense. "But you, you punished me in ways I never thought possible."
Ryan, who had been watching silently, finally stepped forward. "That's enough," he said firmly.
Zahir's eyes flicked to him, burning with rage. "Stay out of this. This is between me and her."
"No, it's not," Ryan countered, his voice unwavering. "You don't get to barge in here and claim someone like a possession. She's not yours."
Zahir's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You don't understand. She's not just anyone. She's mine, and I'll burn this world down before I let her go again."
The air in the room grew heavier, the battle of wills raging between the two men. But it was her standing tall and unbroken who finally broke the silence.
"You don't own me, Zahir," she said quietly, her voice laced with finality. "And you never will."
For the first time, Zahir faltered. The fire in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something raw and unspoken. But it was fleeting, and soon his mask of fury returned.
"This isn't over," he vowed, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Not by a long shot."
I shook my head, the finality in my voice unmistakable. "Go, Zahir. Whatever we had is over."
Zahir stared at me for a long moment before turning on his heel and walking away. The tension lingered even after the door closed behind him. Ryan turned to me, his expression unreadable.
"You didn't have to defend me," I said, breaking the silence.
"I wasn't defending myself," he replied, his voice softer now. "I was protecting you."
The sincerity in his words caught me off guard. For a fleeting moment, I saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask a man who cared, even if he couldn't admit it.
"I don't need your protection, Ryan," I said, though my voice lacked its usual edge.
"Maybe not," he said, his gaze intense. "But you have it anyway."
Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.