The Birthday Omen

Sleep never came.

Nora tossed and turned in bed, her thoughts consumed by Zayan's words. You will be mine forever. What did he mean? Was it a threat? A vow? Or something darker—something she wasn't ready to understand?

The sun rose, but the chill in her bones didn't fade.

The next morning, the mansion buzzed with quiet whispers. Her birthday was only a week away. She hadn't told anyone—it wasn't something she celebrated. Not since her mother died.

But somehow… Zayan knew.

She moved through the halls like a ghost, avoiding his presence. Yet she felt him everywhere—in the heat of her skin, in the silence between footsteps, in the way the shadows clung tighter to the walls.

Later that evening, as she was folding laundry in the staff quarters, she heard footsteps behind her. Slow. Deliberate.

She didn't have to turn around to know it was him.

"Nora."

She swallowed hard and kept folding, refusing to look.

He stepped closer, his voice a whisper behind her. "You're avoiding me."

"No, I'm working," she said, her voice flat.

Zayan moved to stand beside her, watching her hands tremble slightly as she folded a white shirt. "You think I'm going to hurt you?"

"I don't know what to think," she replied. "You say things like I belong to you. You act like you own me. But I'm just a maid."

He smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. "You were never just a maid, Nora. From the moment you stepped into this house, you changed everything."

She finally looked up. "What do you want from me?"

Zayan's eyes burned into hers. "On your birthday, I want your answer. Whether you'll run from me… or let me claim what's already mine."

Then, he turned and left, leaving her standing there, trembling, breathless, torn between fear and something far more dangerous—curiosity.