"Why does it feel wrong, Samirah?"
My breath caught in my throat.
We stood in the quiet hallway, the muffled sound of music and laughter from the gala drifting behind us, but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart.
He was so close.
Too close.
And for one dangerous moment, I almost told him everything.
Almost told him the truth he deserved to know.
But before I could say a word—
"Zayn!"
Mrs. Kareem's sharp voice sliced through the moment.
We turned.
She was walking toward us, elegant and composed, but the irritation in her eyes was unmistakable.
"There you are," she said, forcing a smile. "We have guests waiting for you. Important guests."
Zayn frowned slightly. "I was talking to_."
"You can continue your conversation later," she interrupted smoothly, her gaze briefly flicking to me before returning to him. "Right now, people are asking for you."
He hesitated.
His eyes moved back to mine.
It looked like he wanted to stay.
Wanted answers.
But after a moment, he sighed softly.
"We'll continue this later," he murmured.
I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
Then he walked away without his mother, disappearing back into the ballroom.
And just like that—
The warmth of the moment vanished.
Mrs. Kareem turned slowly toward me.
Her entire expression changed.
The smile dropped.
The softness disappeared.
And all that remained was cold fury.
"What exactly is your problem?" she hissed.
My chest tightened.
"I don't know what you mean—"
"Do not insult my intelligence," she snapped. "Do you want him to die?"
I froze.
Her words hit like ice water.
"What?"
She stepped closer, her voice low and venomous.
"You keep pushing him. Keep interfering. Keep trying to make him remember when the doctor specifically warned against it."
"I'm not trying to hurt him—"
"But you are!" she spat. "Every time you get close, every time you fill his head with confusion, he suffers for it!"
Tears burned behind my eyes instantly.
"I love him," I whispered.
"Then prove it by leaving him alone!" she shouted.
I flinched.
Her eyes narrowed sharply.
"You need to understand something, Samirah," she said coldly. "Lina is going to marry my son."
My stomach dropped.
"No—"
"Yes," she cut in. "That is what is happening. That is what will happen."
My hands trembled.
"You can cry, beg, fight—do whatever pathetic thing you want—but in the end, Lina will stand beside him. Not you."
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
"You can't do this—"
"I already am," she said.
My chest hurt so badly I thought I would collapse.
She leaned closer, her voice turning deadly soft.
"If you truly care about him, stop trying to drag him back into a past that is destroying him."
I stared at her through blurred vision.
"He deserves peace," she whispered. "And peace does not include you."
That shattered something inside me.
She stepped back, smoothing her dress like she had not just broken my heart in half.
Then she gave me one final look.
"Know your place."
And walked away.
Leaving me standing there alone.
Broken.
Breathing hard.
Crying silently in the middle of a hallway full of light and laughter.
I looked toward the ballroom doors where Zayn had disappeared.
I wondered if loving him truly meant losing him.
If maybe the kindest thing I could do…
Was let him go.
I stayed in that hallway for a while after Mrs. Kareem left.
Long enough for the tears to dry on my cheeks.
Long enough for the ache in my chest to settle into something dull and heavy.
Long enough to remind myself that crying would not change anything.
I wiped my face, fixed my makeup as best as I could, and forced myself to breathe.
"You're stronger than this," I whispered to my reflection in the nearby mirror.
Even if I didn't believe it.
After a few moments, I gathered what little dignity I had left and returned to the ballroom.
The music was softer now.
Slower.
The kind meant for couples.
My feet stopped the second I stepped inside.
Because right there in the center of the dance floor—
Was Zayn.
And Lina.
Dancing.
My breath caught painfully.
She was pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, smiling up at him like she had won. Like she belonged exactly where she was.
And Zayn—
He had one hand resting on her waist, the other holding hers, moving with her to the music.
My stomach twisted.
Lina leaned closer, whispering something in his ear that made her giggle softly. Then she rubbed her hand down his chest, acting like some lovesick, clingy girlfriend desperate to remind everyone that he was hers.
I hated how natural she looked doing it.
How comfortable she seemed touching him.
How she kept pressing herself against him every chance she got.
My chest burned with jealousy so sharp it almost brought tears back to my eyes.
Because that—
That used to be me.
That was supposed to be me.
I stood frozen, unable to look away even though every second felt like torture.
Then Zayn's eyes lifted.
And for one terrible moment—
He saw me.
Our eyes locked across the room.
His expression shifted instantly.
His smile faded.
Concern flashed in his eyes.
Like he knew just from looking at me that something was wrong.
But before he could do anything—
Lina grabbed his face and turned his attention back to her.
I swallowed hard, my throat aching.
No.
I could not do this tonight.
I could not stand there and watch another woman play wife with my husband while I smiled and pretended it didn't destroy me.
So I turned around quietly.
And walked away.
Did not bother making excuses.
Did not care if anyone noticed.
I simply went upstairs, closed my bedroom door behind me, and sank against it the moment I was alone.
The tears came instantly.
Hot.
Painful.
Relentless.
I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing too loudly.
Because tonight hurt more than usual.
Tonight, it truly felt like I was losing him.
Little by little.
Moment by moment.
And no matter how much I loved him—
No matter how much I fought—
I was beginning to fear that maybe…
Love would not be enough.
That night, with tears still fresh on my cheeks, I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over myself.
I let myself break.
Because I was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of hurting.
Tired of loving someone who no longer remembered loving me back.
So I closed my eyes and whispered into the darkness—
"Maybe I should let you go…"
Even though the thought alone felt like dying.