Yahzaan took a slow sip of the liquor served in a champagne glass. The amber liquid caught the light like molten gold, shimmering with a deceptive elegance.

But he barely noticed it.

His attention wasn't on the drink.

Nor was it on the woman standing in front of him, speaking with practiced elegance. He didn't even know what she was talking about anymore.

His focus was elsewhere.

On the entrance.

His eyes flicked to his watch again, for what felt like the hundredth time. Letting out a quiet sigh, he nodded absentmindedly, pretending to listen.

But his mind was on his wife.

He wanted to see her reaction.

He still remembered that day clearly, the way she had sat silently in the car, her eyes filled with unshed tears when his mother had mentioned his marriage.

That quiet hurt.

That restrained jealousy.

He had seen it and he had liked it more than he should have.

That was the only reason he had forced her to attend his father's birthday party.

He wanted to see that reaction again.

Because no matter how much she tried to act distant, no matter how hard she tried to push him away... deep down, she wanted him.

At least, that's what he believed.

And that belief, that beautiful lie alone was enough to feed his ego.

His gaze shifted to the entrance once more.

Still no sign of his wife.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face before he forced himself to look back at the woman in front of him.

Miral bint Zahan.

The finance minister's daughter.

Elegant, poised, and perfectly presented.

She wore a navy blue gown, her hair styled neatly, sapphire jewellery resting against her skin, everything about her was flawless.

And yet...

He felt nothing.

Not even the slightest interest.

Her voice blended into meaningless noise.

To stop himself from yawning, he took another sip of his drink, his expression calm and controlled.

But inside he was completely uninterested.

Meanwhile, Emad stopped the car in front of the grand hotel. The entrance was illuminated, exuding wealth and power from every corner.

He stepped out, casually tossing the keys to the chauffeur but he didn't move to open her door.

He simply stood there, waiting.

Few seconds passed and then the door opened with a soft sound, Layla stepped out slowly.

She walked toward him and stopped at his side, her movements hesitant and unsure, her stomach twisted with nerves as her eyes took in the surroundings.

This wasn't her world.

She had never been to a place like this before.

Never even imagined herself in one.

And if it weren't for the small piece of freedom she had been holding onto.

She wouldn't have come here at all.

Not for anything.

Emad turned slightly, about to tell her to move forward.

But he stopped himself.

Because he saw her face.

The nervousness.

The hesitation.

The quiet fear she was trying to hide.

And for a brief moment, Emad's face softened, people would have missed it entirely, but for a brief moment the usual hardness in his features eased as he looked at her.

His eyes lingered on her face for a few silent seconds.

There was something almost painfully innocent about her expression, something untouched and pure that didn't belong in the world of men like them. Hers was not a face made for lies, deception, or manipulation. It lacked the practiced masks he had grown so used to seeing on people around powerful men. There was a raw honesty in her eyes, a softness that seemed almost out of place in a world where everyone hid daggers behind polite smiles.

But Emad had lived too long and seen too much to trust appearances alone.

He knew better than to judge someone so quickly.

It was far too soon to draw conclusions.

Clearing his throat, he finally broke the silence, and when he spoke, his voice carried an unusual gentleness.

"Come."

Without another word, he turned and began walking toward the entrance.

But unlike before, his pace was slower now, as if he knew she needed those extra few seconds to gather herself.

Layla blinked in surprise before quickly following after him, her steps hurried at first until she finally caught up and fell into step beside him.

The moment they entered the hall, her breath nearly caught in her throat.

It was beautiful.

No...

Beautiful wasn't enough to describe it.

The entire place looked like something taken out of a dream.

The grand hall was draped in deep maroon and shimmering gold, the colors blending together so richly it was screaming royal. Massive chandeliers hung from the high ceilings like stars suspended in air, their crystals catching the light and scattering it across the polished marble floors below. Every corner gleamed with elegance, with wealth, with a kind of luxury Layla had only ever seen in movies or magazines.

Everything about this place screamed money.

Old money.

Power.

Prestige.

Layla suddenly became painfully aware of herself.

Of her clothes.

Of the way she walked.

Of how out of place she truly was here.

Women glided past her in elegant gowns that hugged their figures perfectly, their diamonds sparkling beneath the lights with every graceful movement they made. Their makeup was flawless, their posture confident, their laughter soft and refined. The men beside them wore tailored suits and expensive watches, speaking in low voices and polished accents.

Everyone here looked like they belonged.

Everyone except her.

A nervous knot tightened in Layla's stomach.

This world felt too polished.

Too perfect.

Too intimidating.

It was all too much.

Without realizing it, she lowered her gaze, suddenly afraid that if she looked too long at anyone they would somehow notice she didn't belong among them.

Meanwhile, Emad moved effortlessly through the crowd, blending in so naturally it was clear he belonged in spaces like this. He walked with quiet confidence, acknowledging nods here and there, greeting a few people briefly as they passed.

Layla didn't know anyone here.

Didn't recognize a single face.

Didn't know where she was supposed to stand or what she was supposed to do.

So she stayed near Emad.

Not too close... She kept a respectful distance between them, careful enough that no one would misunderstand their relationship, but close enough that she wouldn't feel completely abandoned in this sea of strangers.

Emad didn't seem to notice or mind.

Eventually he stopped near a man who appeared to be in his fifties, starting a conversation with him in a calm, respectful tone while Layla stood silently nearby.

Her hands folded nervously in front of her.

Her heart still pounding in her chest.

Then suddenly the lights dimmed.

The entire room went quiet almost instantly.

Everyone's attention shifted toward the grand staircase.

The host had arrived.

A beautifully dressed older couple began descending the stairs, smiling warmly as applause filled the hall around them.

But Layla barely noticed.

Because her attention had drifted elsewhere.

Her eyes lifted upward and landed on the massive chandelier hanging above the staircase.

Her lips parted softly.

It was breathtaking.

The countless crystals sparkled beneath the golden light like tiny captured stars, shimmering and dancing every time the light hit them from a different angle. It looked almost magical to her, like something from a fairy tale palace.

She stared at it completely mesmerized, her eyes wide with childlike wonder, her earlier nervousness momentarily forgotten.

For just a second, she looked less like a frightened woman trapped in a room full of strangers and more like a girl simply marveling at something beautiful.

And across the room, a pair of dark eyes had not left her since the moment she walked in.

Yahzaan watched everything.

The nervous way she stepped into the room.

The uncertainty in her posture.

The way her gaze stayed lowered as if afraid someone might look too closely at her.

And then, he watched her look up at the chandelier.

Watched the pure awe bloom across her face.

Watched her eyes shine beneath the golden light.

And for a moment he forgot how to breathe.

Because standing there beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers, looking so delicate, so soft, so breathtakingly unaware of her own beauty... She looked unreal.

Almost heavenly.

Layla was completely lost in the beauty of the chandelier.

And Yahzaan...

He was utterly, hopelessly lost in hers.

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End of the chapter🤍

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