"Go home."
Zayn's voice was calm, but firm.
I stood at the foot of the stairs, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag.
"Get your things," he added. "If you're going to work here, you should… settle properly."
Work here.
The words still felt strange.
But I nodded anyway.
"I'll be back," I said.
He held my gaze for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else.
Then he just nodded.
"Monday," he said.
Monday came too fast.
And not fast enough.
By the time I walked back into the mansion, I had already rehearsed everything in my head—how I would act, what I would say, how I would survive seeing him every day without breaking.
As i walked into the sitting room, i didn't expect this.
Lina was in the living room.
Comfortable.
Relaxed.
Like she belonged there.
She was dressed casually, sitting with a cup of tea like it was her house.
I stopped.
Something cold settled in my chest.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
She looked up slowly.
And smiled.
"Oh," she said lightly. "You're back."
Back.
Like I had left something behind.
"I asked you a question," I said.
She set her cup down, completely unbothered.
"I'm staying here."
My chest tightened.
"Excuse me,Why?"
She raised a brow slightly. "Why not?"
I let out a short, disbelieving breath.
"Because I'm married to him."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
The room went still.
For a second—
Just a second—
Lina's expression shifted.
Then it was gone.
Replaced with something smoother.
Colder.
"Are you?" she asked softly.
"Yes," I said, stepping closer. "So I'll ask again—why are you in my husband's house?"
She stood up slowly.
Graceful.
Unhurried.
Like she wasn't threatened.
"Because he asked me to stay," she replied.
My heart skipped.
"He doesn't remember what you're talking about," she added.
That—
That stung.
Deep.
"He will," I said, my voice steady despite the storm building inside me.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Maybe," she said. "But right now? He remembers me."
Before I could respond—
"Samirah."
Zayn's voice cut through the tension.
We both turned.
He stood at the entrance, his expression unreadable.
"If you are going to work here then you will have learn how mind your place. I won't tolerate you being rude to my guest" he said.
The words hit harder than anything Lina had said.
My chest tightened.
"My place?" I repeated quietly.
"You're staff here," he said. "Act like it."
Staff.
The word echoed painfully.
I swallowed.
"I was just asking why she's here," I said.
"She's here because I want her here," he replied.
Lina didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
She had already won that moment.
"Don't create problems where there aren't any," he added.
Something in me cracked again.
But I didn't let it show.
"Understood," I said softly.
And this time—
I stepped back.
Not as his wife.
Not as someone who belonged.
Just… staff.
The rest of the day passed slowly.
Painfully.
Every corner of the house held memories he didn't remember.
Every glance at him reminded me of everything I had lost.
By evening, I couldn't take it anymore.
I found him in his study.
Alone.
Sitting behind his desk, flipping through a file.
Quiet.
Focused.
Like the world outside didn't exist.
I hesitated at the door.
Then knocked lightly.
He looked up.
His expression softened slightly when he saw me.
Not much.
But enough.
"Yes?"
"I came to check if you needed anything," I said.
He studied me for a second.
Then shook his head. "No."
I nodded, turning slightly to leave.
"Wait."
I paused.
Turned back.
"Yes?"
He leaned back in his chair, watching me again.
That same look.
Curious.
Conflicted.
"Why did you say that earlier?" he asked.
My heart skipped. "Say what?"
"That you're married to me."
The room felt smaller.
Tighter.
I took a slow breath.
Because this—
This was dangerous.
"I shouldn't have said that," I replied.
A lie.
But a necessary one.
His brows pulled together slightly.
"That's not an answer."
I met his gaze.
Carefully.
"You don't remember," I said quietly. "So it doesn't matter."
Something shifted in his expression.
Disagreement.
"Things don't stop mattering just because I don't remember them," he said.
My chest tightened.
"You don't know that," I whispered.
Silence.
Then he leaned forward slightly.
"Then tell me," he said.
My breath caught.
"Tell me what I'm missing."
Everything.
You're missing everything.
I wanted to say it.
I almost did.
But then I remembered the doctor's warning.
The risk.
The fear.
I shook my head.
"I can't."
His jaw tightened.
"Or you won't?"
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was—
Both.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"You're… confusing," he muttered.
A soft, sad smile touched my lips.
"You have no idea."
Another silence.
Then, quieter—
"When I'm around you," he said, "it feels like I'm forgetting something important."
My heart stuttered.
Hope.
Dangerous.
Fragile.
"But when I try to figure it out," he continued, "everything just… stops."
I stepped closer without thinking.
"Maybe you don't need to force it," I said softly.
His gaze lifted to mine.
Close now.
Too close.
"Then what do I do?" he asked.
I swallowed.
"Feel it," I whispered.
The air shifted.
Something deeper.
Something neither of us fully understood.
He held my gaze for a long moment.
Then nodded slightly.
"Stay," he said.
Just one word.
But it held weight.
I hesitated.
Then slowly—
I nodded.
And for the first time since everything changed—
I wasn't just fighting for his memory.
I was fighting for the part of him…
That still felt me.