Chapter 10-When Silence Feels Louder Than Words

The office is quiet today.

Too quiet.

Phones ring softly in the background. Typing fills the silence, but no one is talking. And I can feel him.

I can feel Kairo watching me through the glass wall of his office. He hasn't said a word since this morning. Not a single meeting call. No questions. Just… silence.

But it's the kind that prickles along your skin. The kind that says everything.

He's angry.

Or confused.

Or something he doesn't have the words for.

I try to focus on the screen in front of me, rereading the same paragraph three times before I give up. My mind won't sit still. It keeps replaying that night over and over again. The hotel room. The closeness. His voice in the dark.

"You say it like it still does."

I didn't sleep after that. I just lay there, still and breathless, counting the seconds until morning. Until I could put distance between us again.

But that distance isn't working anymore.

I tap my pen against the desk. I'm not the type to avoid things. I've faced too many storms to pretend they don't exist. So I rise, straighten my skirt, and walk toward his office.

He sees me coming and leans back in his chair, unreadable as always.

"Do you have a minute?" I ask quietly.

He nods once. "Close the door."

I do.

Then I stand there like an idiot because I don't even know what I'm doing. What I want to say. I just… I need to explain, even if I don't fully understand it myself.

"I'm sorry," I say finally, my voice small. "About the hotel. About… the name."

His jaw tightens. "You don't have to apologize."

"I do," I insist. "You didn't sign up for any of this. And I—I never meant to make things complicated."

A pause.

Then he says, "But they are complicated now."

I meet his eyes. "I know."

"Why did you marry me, Zara?"

The question catches me off guard. We've never said it out loud before. It was a mutual understanding. An arrangement. But now, it hangs between us like a thread pulled too tight.

"I needed space from my past," I say slowly. "From the expectations, from everything that broke me. And you needed a partner who wouldn't ask for love."

His expression doesn't change, but his voice softens just a little. "And yet, here we are. Talking about feelings."

I look away. "I didn't plan to feel anything."

"I didn't either."

That quiet confession feels like a thunderclap.

We're standing on opposite sides of a line we both pretended didn't exist. And now we see it.

He stands up suddenly and walks around the desk. Stops just a step too close.

"I don't care about Noah," he says, voice low. "But I care if he still has a hold on you."

"He doesn't," I say quickly. "I'm just… not as healed as I thought I was."

He nods, then brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger a second too long.

"You don't have to be healed to belong somewhere safe," he murmurs.

I swallow hard. "And this is safe?"

"I don't know," he admits. "But I want it to be."

My heart thunders.

We stare at each other, breathing the same air, saying too much with no words.

And then his phone rings.

We both jumped a little. He doesn't answer it.

Just step back.

"Later," he says, voice clipped now. The moment is gone.

I nod and walk out.

But my heart is still there in that office.

Still hanging on his words.