“I don’t know what’s so special about you, Layla, Every time I think that’s the last time I'm touching you, that I’m done...But no.”

He looked at her as if his words couldn't make sense anymore.

“Every single time, I tell myself I won’t come back to you again.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly, like he didn’t like what he was about to admit. “And yet… here I am.”

He let out a slow breath, as if frustrated with something he couldn’t quite control, maybe himself, maybe her, maybe whatever this was between them.

Then, almost absently, he leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to her lips.

Her heart sank into a bottomless darkness, as if she were drowning in an endless ocean struggling to reach the surface, but never quite making it.

And slowly, painfully, the realization settled in.

To him, she was nothing more than a body. Something to satisfy a need. Nothing beyond that.

Just dust beneath his feet.

Trapped in a golden prison that looked beautiful from the outside, but inside it was suffocating her, slowly, like a poison she could neither fight… nor escape.

“Go change, I want to see you in that white nightgown.”

There was no resistance left in her. Not even confusion this time...just a quiet, sinking understanding of what he wanted.

She pulled away and got up almost immediately, her movements mechanical, like a puppet being guided by invisible strings.

Without looking back at him, she walked into the walk-in closet.

The moment she stepped inside, her eyes fell on the section filled with nightwear.

Rows and rows of it.

Different colors. Different fabrics. Different designs.

But none of them looked like they were meant for comfort.

They looked… deliberate.

As if their purpose wasn’t to cover, but to reveal.

Her fingers hesitated for a moment before reaching out to the white one he had mentioned. The satin fabric felt soft against her skin as she pulled it off the hanger.

For a second, she just held it.

Then she looked at it properly.

And her breath caught.

Her eyes widened, a wave of shame creeping up her chest.

She didn’t understand it.

Didn’t understand how something like this was even supposed to be worn.

It barely covered anything.

The design barely covering the swell of her breasts and between her legs, the delicate fabric almost translucent in every places.

It didn’t feel like something meant to cover her body.

It felt like the opposite.

Her grip tightened slightly around the fabric, her throat going dry as she just stood there, staring at it, caught between hesitation, discomfort, and the quiet realization that she didn’t really have a choice.

Numbing her mind and body she slipped into the nightgown.

For a moment, she just stood there inside the closet, unmoving. Her fingers trembled slightly at her sides as she closed her eyes, silently asking for mercy… for anything that would make this easier.

But just like before, it felt as if her prayers disappeared into silence...unheard, unanswered.

Swallowing the heaviness in her chest, she reached for the door with unsteady hands and slowly stepped out.

Her eyes remained lowered, fixed on the floor as if she could somehow disappear into it. Each step felt heavier than the last until she finally stopped in front of the bed.

Gathering what little courage she had left, she lifted her gaze, Only to find the bed empty.

Yahzaan wasn’t there.

For a second, she couldn’t even process it.

Her gaze flickered around the room in confusion.

And then, quietly, a fragile hope bloomed inside her chest. Maybe… maybe she had been given a moment of relief. Maybe, for once, fate had decided to be kind.

But just as that thought began to settle, the sound of footsteps broke the silence.

Her heart skipped a beat

Then came his voice, mid-conversation, abruptly stopping.

Layla turned around quickly.

He stood by the balcony entrance, his phone still pressed to his ear, the glass door slightly open behind him. His lips were parted as if he had forgotten he had been speaking.

Something about a meeting. Or a file. Or a name that no longer mattered.

Because the moment his eyes landed on her, Everything else ceased to exist.

His words died in his throat, unfinished, forgotten. Even the voice on the other end of the call faded into nothing, like distant noise he couldn’t bring himself to hear anymore.

He just… looked at her.

And for a second, he didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe properly.

Didn’t think.

Because she stood there, before him like a goddess wrapped in silk, something fragile and heartbreakingly beautiful.

His gaze moved over her slowly, taking in every detail, the faint flush on her skin, the soft color rising in her cheeks, the way her hands fidgeted nervously, the uncertainty and fear in her wide green gorgeous eyes.

Something in his expression shifted.

She looked so vulnerable, yet impossibly beautiful at this moment.

Completely and Exclusively his.

“I’ll talk to you later, Emad,” he said, his voice quieter now, distant, as if speaking had become an afterthought.

There was a reply from the other end, but it didn’t reach him.

Without waiting, without listening, he ended the call.

Silence filled the room again.

But it wasn’t the same silence as before.

This one was heavier. Thicker. Charged with something unspoken.

And then...

He started walking toward her.

Slow. Measured steps.

As if he had all the time in the world.

Layla instinctively took a small step back, her heart beating louder with each step he took closer, her breath hitching, but there was nowhere to go.

Nowhere to escape.

And the closer he got, the harder it became for her to breathe.

Finally, her back hit the wall, and the scent of him, oud and smoke filled her senses, the same fragrance that had started haunting her dreams.

Trapping her between himself and the wall, he leaned down, and his lips found hers. Slowly, dangerously, he felt himself losing control, losing himself...in her.

But little did he know…

She was never meant to be his, She was never meant to stand before him, never meant to exist in his world.

But fate… fate had always been cruel.

It brought her to him anyway.

And maybe that was what made her beauty unbearable.

Because she didn’t look like something made for him.

She looked like something he was slowly destroying just by wanting her.

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End of the chapter🤍

Thank you for reading ✨

Let me know your thoughts.❤️

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