Zayn stayed in the hospital for three days.
Three long, painful days where guilt ate at me every single second.
When he was finally medically cleared and returned home, I made a promise to myself—I would stay away from him.
No more pushing.
No more trying.
No more being selfish.
So I avoided him.
I stayed out of his way, kept my distance, and only came around when my duties required it. If he entered a room, I found a reason to leave. If he called for help, I made sure another maid attended to him first.
And in the space I created…
Lina filled it.
She was constantly around him, clinging to his arm, giggling at everything he said, kissing his cheek, asking if he needed anything every five seconds like some overly devoted girlfriend.
It made me sick.
But I endured it.
Because I had promised myself I would.
Then one evening after dinner, as I was cleaning the dining table, I heard his voice behind me.
"Samirah."
My hands froze.
Slowly, I turned around.
He stood in the doorway, staring at me with his usual unreadable expression.
"Yes?" I asked quietly.
He frowned.
"Come with me."
My heart skipped.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, and I followed him until we reached his study.
The moment the door shut behind us, he turned to face me.
His brows furrowed immediately.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
My breath caught.
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you are," he cut in. "You barely look at me anymore. You leave every room I walk into. You act like I did something to you."
I swallowed hard.
"You didn't."
"Then what is it?"
His voice softened.
And somehow that made it worse.
I looked away. "I just thought maybe… you needed space."
He stared at me for a long moment before stepping closer.
"That's not your decision to make."
My chest tightened.
He was close now.
Too close.
His eyes searched mine carefully.
"I don't like it," he murmured.
I blinked. "What?"
"When you avoid me."
My heart stopped.
He let out a frustrated breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I don't understand it," he admitted. "But when you're not around, it feels like something's missing."
Tears burned behind my eyes instantly.
Because he had no idea what those words meant to me.
No idea how badly I wanted to throw myself into his arms and cry.
Instead, I just whispered, "Zayn…"
He stepped even closer.
"So stop avoiding me," he said softly. "Please."
Please.
That one word shattered every wall I had spent days building.
And in that moment—
I knew I was in trouble.
The week of the gala arrived faster than I wanted it to.
For days, the mansion was in chaos.
Staff rushed from room to room, polishing every surface until it gleamed, arranging flowers, setting tables, hanging decorations, and making sure every corner of the estate looked perfect enough for the high-profile guests Mrs. Kareem had invited.
Everyone was busy.
Everyone was stressed.
And through all of it, I forced myself to stay focused on work.
Not on Zayn.
Not on Lina.
Not on the fact that tonight was meant to celebrate an engagement that never happened.
By evening, the mansion had transformed.
Lights glowed beautifully against the walls, music floated softly through the air, and expensive perfumes mixed with laughter and conversation as guests poured into the ballroom dressed in glittering gowns and tailored suits.
I stood by the sidelines with the other staff, dressed in uniform, trying not to think about how ironic it was that I was serving drinks at my husband's engagement party.
The pain of it sat heavy in my chest.
But I swallowed it.
For him.
For his health.
For the promise I had made myself.
Then the music lowered.
Mrs. Kareem stepped onto the grand stage, a microphone in hand, smiling elegantly as the room quieted.
"Good evening, everyone," she announced warmly. "Thank you all for joining us tonight."
Applause filled the room.
She smiled wider.
"As many of you know, tonight is a very special evening for our family. We are gathered here to celebrate love… commitment… and the future union of my son and the beautiful Lina."
My stomach twisted painfully.
The room erupted into cheers.
My grip tightened around the tray in my hand.
I couldn't breathe.
Mrs. Kareem turned gracefully toward the crowd.
"May I please invite the lovely couple to the stage?"
The entire room clapped as Lina beamed and grabbed Zayn's hand.
My chest tightened watching them.
Watching her touch him like she belonged there.
Watching him let her.
They walked toward the stage together, and the guests cheered louder as they stood beside Mrs. Kareem.
Lina looked radiant.
Happy.
And Zayn…
He looked distracted.
His eyes scanned the room briefly.
Then—
They landed on me.
My breath caught.
Even standing beside another woman…
Even in the middle of his own supposed celebration…
He was looking at me.
Mrs. Kareem smiled brightly and raised the microphone again.
"Tonight," she said proudly, "we celebrate the union of two people destined for one another. A love story years in the making—"
My chest burned.
I couldn't do this.
I couldn't stand there and listen to her rewrite history while the man I loved stood beside another woman.
I turned quickly and walked away before anyone could notice the tears burning in my eyes.
I barely made it into the empty hallway before my breathing broke.
I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to steady myself.
Trying not to cry.
Trying not to scream.
"Samirah?"
My heart stopped.
I turned.
Zayn stood behind me.
Alone.
My eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"
He frowned slightly. "What are you doing here?"
"I—I came to get more drinks—"
"Don't lie to me."
The softness in his voice made my throat tighten.
He stepped closer.
"You walked out because you were upset."
"No, I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were," he said firmly. "Why?"
I shook my head quickly. "Please go back inside."
His brows furrowed deeper.
"Not until you tell me why you look like you're about to cry."
My heart shattered.
Because he noticed.
Because even now—
He still noticed.
"You should be inside," I whispered. "This is your night."
His expression darkened slightly.
"It doesn't feel like my night."
That made me pause.
He looked away for a moment, jaw tightening.
"Everyone keeps saying this is what I wanted," he muttered. "That Lina is who I chose. That I proposed to her. That I loved her."
He looked back at me.
"But every time they say it…"
He stepped closer.
My heart pounded wildly.
"It feels wrong."
My breath caught.
His eyes locked onto mine.
And in the middle of that quiet hallway, with the music echoing faintly behind us, he whispered—
"Why does it feel wrong, Samirah?"
I realized the truth was getting harder for him to ignore.