The guy introduced himself as Stan — and just hearing the name warmed something in Zina's chest. It rolled off his lips with confidence, yet held a kind of tenderness that made her smile unconsciously. Stan, she repeated in her mind. Short, firm, calm. There was something reassuring about that name, like it was meant to be in her story.
And then, without much hesitation, he told her what he had in mind. "I want to marry you," he said , just like that. Bold. Calm. No drama. No beating around the bush.
Zina blinked hard. Wait, what? Her heart skipped a beat and returned with a loud thump, Was this it? The light at the end of a long, dark tunnel? She wanted to believe it, but her mind immediately flipped through the pages of her past like a reflex. Pain, lies, betrayal... Was this another cruel joke? Maybe he was saying what he thought she wanted to hear. Maybe he would change his tone after getting what he wanted.
But when she looked up, Stan was still sitting there, eyes steady, posture relaxed, no sign of games in his voice. "I'm serious," he added gently. "I want us to get to know each other, If it works, we'll make it official."
That was when Zina decided to lay at least one card on the table. She needed to be real, not with everything, but with enough. So she told him about her failed marriage, how it ended and how it wounded her. She didn't share every scar, especially the ones connected to Richard, some secrets, she felt, were better buried, not out of shame, but protection, She feared that saying too much would place unnecessary judgments on her shoulders, She didn't want to be seen as broken or damaged.
Stan listened quietly, He didn't interrupt. He didn't flinch, When she finished, he smiled a gentle, almost childlike smile and said, "That's not a problem. Your past isn't something I'm afraid of."
That one sentence felt like a healing balm across old wounds, from that moment, something in Zina shifted. A new page was opening, Stan didn't just show up in her life, he lit up every dark corner, He brought colour where it had faded, reminded her that she was still worthy of care, still deserving of something pure.
Stan became her sunlight after long years of night.
He would hold her hand, not just in public, but when she cried or doubted herself. He didn't rush her healing, he made space for it, with every compliment, every gesture, Zina started asking herself a quiet question: Am I really worth all this?
But that was the thing about love, real love. It doesn't always come with fireworks or poetry. Sometimes, it arrives gently, as peace. In Stan's presence, she didn't have to shrink or apologize. She didn't feel broken, She felt seen, wanted, cherished.
Before she could fully grasp what was happening, Stan had taken her to meet his parents, a step that made everything feel so real, so grounded, and that night, as they sat alone, something sacred unfolded. She gave herself to him, not just physically, but emotionally, Fully, Her body opened, and so did her soul. It wasn't about lust or escape this time. It was about love, trust, and acceptance.
He held her like she was fragile, like she was art. His hands explored her like a man discovering treasure , careful, gentle, honest.
And afterward, as they lay quietly, Stan heaved a sigh of contentment. "Where have you been all this while?" he asked softly, brushing her hair behind her ears.
Zina smiled and looked into his eyes. But in her heart, she echoed the same words. Where have you been?
He didn't wait too long to take the next step. Stan fixed a date for the traditional marriage rites, He didn't stutter, He didn't stall, he didn't give excuses, he planned, he moved, he executed.
But just when things were finally taking form, the devil wore Prada and returned in the form of Richard , like a ghost that wouldn't stay buried, Richard began calling her again desperate and persistent, But Zina didn't answer, she didn't flinch, She didn't even blink, she had learned the hard way that some doors should never be reopened.
And when his desperate calls failed, he sent Ada his ever-willing mouthpiece to meddle, Zina ignored them both.
She kept her plans quiet, not out of fear, but out of wisdom, she didn't want anyone's interference, this time, her joy was private, her peace guarded, she wasn't going to let anyone dim this light.
This was her moment. Her story. Her reward after countless chapters of heartbreak, soon, the traditional rites were done, not postponed, not delayed, done and dusted like the completion of a long-awaited miracle.
Zina became a married woman not just to any man, but to one she called her king. Her knight in shining armour, her sunrise after the longest night.
And for the first time in forever… she felt safe.