Hearing the doctor's advice, Yahzaan simply nodded and walked the doctor to the door, exchanging a few brief words before seeing him off.

On the other hand Layla hadn't moved from her place, her hands clutched tightly in her lap, fingers intertwined so hard her knuckles had turned pale.

She felt alone.

Terribly alone.

It had been weeks since she had a real conversation with anyone. Weeks of silence, of unspoken thoughts piling up inside her.

Sometimes, she felt like she was forgetting her own voice, like she was slowly becoming something else.

A puppet of his hands.

Her gaze drifted toward the window, though she wasn't really looking at anything. There was a distant longing in her eyes, something quiet but aching.

She missed her home. Her apartment because this place... this vast, luxurious space... it never felt like home.

She was lost in her mind when Yahzaan returned and saw her.

Really saw her.

The stillness. The silence. The way she seemed to fade into herself.

This beautiful woman losing her colours right in front of him.

For a moment, he said nothing and then, without a word, he turned and walked toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he came back with a tray of fruits...apples, grapes, dates and sat beside her, closer this time, the space between them shrinking as he picked up an apple and began peeling it.

Slowly.

Carefully.

The knife moved with precision, the peel falling in one continuous strip. When he was done, he cut it into small pieces and placed them neatly on the tray.

"Layla..." he called softly, "Come, eat this."

She replied without looking at him,

her tone flat, distant.

"I'm not hungry."

He let out a quiet sigh.

Because If it were anyone else, he would have forced them, ordered them, threatened them, made them obey.

But for some reason he didn't want to do this with her...

He didn't want to give her a reason to cry.

Or worse...

To become the reason of her tears.

He stayed silent for a moment, thinking.

And then an idea came to him.

"If I were you, I would use this opportunity wisely, Layla."

That got her attention.

Slightly.

"What opportunity?" she asked, her voice still quiet, but this time there was a hint of curiosity.

"If you eat everything on this tray," he said, gesturing toward the fruits, "you can ask me anything."

There was a pause.

"Anything?" she repeated.

"Anything."

She turned her head slightly, finally looking at him.

"Even divorce?"

His expression didn't change.

"Except that."

The word landed like a wall between them.

Layla let out a slow breath, her gaze drifting away again, back toward the window.

As if she had already lost interest, as if nothing he offered mattered enough.

Seeing her losing all interest, he spoke again.

"Come on, Layla" he said, a hint of impatience slipping into his voice. "There has to be something you want. Jewellery, bags, cars... anything."

And again, without even looking at him, she replied quietly. "I just don't want you near me."

"Okay."

That...more than anything caught her off guard.

Her head snapped toward him, confusion flashing across her face.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," he said, as if it was nothing, though there was something restrained beneath his calm tone. "I'm considering your request. I'm your husband, it's not like I'm going to stay away from you forever. But..." he paused, watching her carefully, "...if you give me a time period, I'll work with that."

She went still.

Thinking.

Really thinking.

Her mind turned over his words again and again, weighing them, testing them, as if she didn't quite trust what she was hearing.

And then, after a long moment, she spoke.

"A year."

He stared at her.

"A year?" he repeated, almost incredulous. "Are you serious, woman? I'm a very healthy man... and I have a very beautiful wife. You tell me how am I supposed to stay away for that long?" he let out a short breath. "I'll give you three days."

"Six months."

"Five days."

"Three months."

"A week," he cut in finally, his voice firm now. "No less, no more. Take it or leave it."

The words came out quickly.

Almost too quickly.

And the moment they left his mouth, something in him shifted like he already regretted it.

But he didn't take it back.

He couldn't.

Layla's lips twitched, the faintest hint of something passing over her face...relief, maybe or disbelief.

Yahzaan noticed.

And with all the seriousness in the world, he pointed toward the tray in front of her.

"Don't be too happy about your victory," he said. "First, you have to finish all of that. That's our deal."

This time she didn't argue.

She reached out, picked up a piece of apple, and slowly started eating it.

And just like that, something inside him settled.

A strange, quiet sense of satisfaction.

He watched her for a moment, silent.

He didn't know how he was going to manage an entire week without touching her. Didn't know if he even could.

But for some reason he wanted to try.

Because he didn't want to break his word.

Didn't want to see disappointment in her beautiful eyes.

"Anything else you want?" he asked after a while, his tone lighter now, almost amused, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

She looked at him, hesitant.

"You'll agree?"

"If it's reasonable," he said, leaning back slightly, "I will."

There was a pause.

Then she said in a quiet voice, almost in a whisper as if she's telling a secret she shouldn't.

"I want to go to my home."

Hearing her for a split second, something sour crossed his face, sharp and unguarded.

But he masked it quickly.

"This is your home, Layla."

Silence.

She didn't argue.

Didn't insist.

She just... went quiet again.

And Yahzaan let out a slow sigh, running a hand through his hair.

He didn't like this.

The way she had gone quiet... distant... like she had already left him in her mind.

It didn't sit right with him.

So, after a brief internal battle, he spoke slowly, almost reluctantly.

"Okay... you can go to your place."

The moment the words left his mouth, It was like something lit up inside her.

A smile bloomed on her lips.

Beautiful.

Soft.

Real.

And for the first time he saw it.

Not the polite, forced expressions she gave him before... but a genuine smile. Something unguarded, something alive.

He had thought she was beautiful before.

But now, Looking at her like this...

She felt exquisite.

Radiant in a way that almost made him forget himself.

For a moment, he just stared.

Lost.

Completely.

While on the other hand, Layla didn't notice his gaze at all.

Her focus was somewhere else entirely.

Freedom.

The thought of leaving this place, even if just for a while filled her with urgency.

But then a small fear crept into her chest...What if he changes his mind?

So she hurried.

Quickly picking up the pieces of fruit, she started eating, almost stuffing her mouth, not caring about anything else.

She just wanted to finish.

To leave.

To get out before this chance slipped away.

And it took her barely fifteen minutes to finish everything on the tray.

"See... I'm finished," she said, her voice carrying a hint of breathless excitement.

"Yeah... I can see that," he replied dryly.

"If I put an elephant in front of you and told you to eat it completely just so I'd stay away from you," he added, picking up his phone, "I have no doubt you'd finish it in thirty minutes."

He dialed his driver.

Meanwhile, Layla's heart felt like it was dancing.

The happiness she felt was impossible to hide.

It was written all over her face, In her eyes, In that lingering smile.

In the way she looked... free, even before she had left.

And Yahzaan...he saw all of it. Every bit of it.

And for reasons he didn't want to think about it.

After ten minutes, his phone pinged with a message.

He glanced at it, then looked at her almost half heartedly.

"The driver is here."

The words felt like salvation to her.

"Go get ready... before I change my mind."

The moment he said that, she didn't waste a second.

She almost ran toward the bedroom, her steps quick, hurried, as if time itself was chasing her. She grabbed her laptop, her hands slightly trembling as she wore her abaya and fixed her hijab properly, not even pausing to check herself twice.

She just needed to leave.

And she came back out just as quickly.

Without saying anything, she started walking toward the elevator.

But then his voice stopped her.

"Layla."

She froze.

Slowly turning around, she found him already walking toward her.

"You are really a cruel woman," he said, his tone unreadable.

Before she could react, he reached her and pulled her gently toward him. His hands moved to her hijab, adjusting it carefully, fixing the edges near her face.

But in reality he just wanted an excuse to touch her to feel her close.

"If something doesn't feel right you will call me immediately."

And then he leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to her lips.

"Go."

This time, she didn't hesitate.

Without looking back, she turned and walked out of the penthouse.

Her heart whispered silent thanks for this moment, for this small escape as she stepped outside and saw the black G-Wagon waiting for her.

She quickly got inside.

And the car pulled away.

Meanwhile the moment Layla left the penthouse, Yahzaan's expression changed.

The quiet restraint disappeared.

He picked up his phone and made a call.

"Keep eyes on my wife. Twenty-four seven."

He didn't trust the so-called security of her shabby apartment building or the neigh

borhood surrounding it. Not even for a second.

"And stay in the shadows," he added quietly and ended the call.

Because even when he let her go...

He never really did.

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End of the chapter🤍

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