"Get out."
The door was already open.
I stood at the entrance, my chest tight, my fingers trembling slightly at my sides as Mrs. Kareem's voice cut through me like something sharp and deliberate.
"I'm not leaving," I said, even though my voice wasn't as strong as I wanted it to be.
"You don't belong here," she replied coldly. "You never did."
That hit deeper than it should have.
Because once—
I did.
Before I could respond, footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Both of us turned.
Zayn.
He had stopped halfway down, one hand resting lightly on the railing, his gaze moving between us.
Confusion flickered in his eyes.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Mrs. Kareem straightened slightly. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"It doesn't look like nothing," he said.
His eyes shifted to me.
And just like that, everything inside me broke open.
"Please," I said, stepping forward before I could stop myself. "Don't let her send me away."
The words felt too raw.
Too desperate.
But I didn't care anymore.
I had nothing left to protect.
He frowned slightly. "Why would she send you away?"
Because I'm your wife.
Because this is my home.
Because everything here used to be mine too.
But I couldn't say any of that.
Not yet.
"I…" I swallowed hard. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
That wasn't entirely true.
But it felt true enough.
His gaze lingered on me.
Searching.
Like he was trying to understand something he couldn't see.
Mrs. Kareem sighed softly. "She's exaggerating."
"I'm not," I said quickly. "I lost my job. I don't have anything right now. I just need… something to hold on to."
My voice cracked at the last word.
I hated that.
Hated how weak I sounded.
But I couldn't stop.
"If you can't let me stay as a guest," I continued, forcing the words out, "then let me stay as staff."
That caught both of them off guard.
Silence stretched.
Zayn's brows pulled together slightly. "Staff?"
"Yes," I said, nodding quickly. "Housekeeping. Cleaning. Anything. I'll work. I just—" I stopped, steadying my breath. "I just need a place."
A place near you.
Even if you don't know it.
Mrs. Kareem's expression hardened. "Absolutely not."
"I'll do anything," I pressed. "I won't interfere. I won't cross any lines. I'll stay out of the way."
"Enough," she snapped. "This is not a charity house."
"It's not charity," I said, my voice quieter now but steadier. "It's work."
Zayn hadn't spoken.
Not yet.
But I could feel his gaze on me.
Heavy.
Thoughtful.
"Why here?" he asked suddenly.
The question hit harder than everything else.
Why here?
Because this is where you are.
Because this is where we used to be.
Because I can't walk away from you.
I met his eyes.
"Because this is the only option i have left," I said.
Silence.
Then—
"I don't like this," Mrs. Kareem said sharply. "She's a stranger. Bringing her into this house is unnecessary."
"She's not just a stranger," Zayn said.
Both of us looked at him.
He was still on the stairs, but his gaze hadn't left me.
"There's something familiar about her," he added quietly.
My heart skipped.
"Zayn—" his mother started.
"I don't know what it is," he continued, cutting her off. "But I trust it."
The room went still.
That one sentence—
It changed everything.
Mrs. Kareem's jaw tightened. "You're not thinking clearly."
"I am," he replied calmly. "She asked for work. Let her work."
Her expression darkened.
"This is a mistake."
"Then it's mine to make," he said.
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
For a moment, I thought she would refuse.
That she would push harder.
But then—
She exhaled slowly.
"Fine."
The word was sharp.
Reluctant.
Controlled.
"But she stays as staff," she added firmly. "Nothing more."
My chest tightened.
Staff.
Not family.
Not wife.
Not anything that mattered.
Still—
It was enough.
For now.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
Zayn didn't respond immediately.
He just watched me.
Like he was trying to figure out why letting me stay felt right.
Even when it shouldn't.
And as I stood there—
Still shaken, still hurting, but no longer outside—
I realized something.
I had just walked back into my husband's life.
Not as his wife.
Not as the woman he loved.
But as someone he would see every day.
Someone he would notice.
Someone he would learn again.
And this time—
I wouldn't lose him without a fight.