Five

(CHAPTER FOUR)

Jemima’s POV

The window was my only friend tonight, since I had no one to talk to, I stood before it, my arms folded, staring into the starless sky as if it could give me peace.

The night breeze slipped into the room, soft and cool, teasing strands of my hair and brushing them across my lips.

But the weight inside me reminded me where I stood.

Never for once in my twenty-five years of life did I imagine this, a night where I would stand in a stranger’s room, where I'd be a wife to a man I never loved, and let my life get signed away like a business contract.

I had always wanted a family, a husband I would love, children who would love us both, a home filled with warmth. But not like this, not under the shadow of an arrangement I never asked for, not chained to a man who had no place in my heart.

And yet, it was too late.

Because I was already trapped in this loveless marriage.

The thought made my chest ache in a way that no breeze could soothe. My heart betrayed me as always, my thoughts shifted back to Davis.

The man who shattered me. The man who I couldn't stop thinking about even if it hurts.

No matter how hard I tried to bury his memories, he had it all, I could remember that night I caught him with Evelyn, I nearly died because the pain was too much.

I had never cherished anyone the way I cherished him. Davis wasn’t my first boyfriend, but he was the first man I truly loved. With him, I felt alive, like my heart was beating for something real. But in the end, he broke me.

He destroyed me.

And the cruelest part? I still longed for him. Even now, even after all he did.

Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt this much if he had betrayed me with someone else, with some faceless stranger. But he didn’t, he chose Evelyn, he chose my best friend.

The girl who laughed with me, cried with me, celebrated birthdays and heartbreaks with me. She was supposed to be my sister. And yet, she lay in the arms of the man I gave everything to.

How cruel can fate be?

Didn’t he think of me when he touched her? Didn’t he remember the nights I stayed awake worrying about him, the money I gave when he was broke, the love I poured into him even when I had nothing left to give?

Crazy how I messaged him when I was discharged from the hospital, but he reacted with laughing emojis.

A hot tear dropped from my eyes, I wiped it away quickly, furious at myself.

Enough.

I had to stop thinking about this. If I let my mind linger on him any longer, I might lose control and do something reckless.

The sharp click of the door broke through my thoughts.

I turned and walked to the door to see who it was, then I saw Khalid.

He walked in with a casualness that didn’t match the storm raging inside me, a white box balanced in his hand.

“You ordered pizza?” His voice was flat, unreadable, his dark eyes sweeping over me.

I nodded quickly, stepping forward to grab it, but he shifted, setting it on the low glass table by the sofas.

“Thanks,” I muttered coldly. “But next time, stay out of my business.”

His eyes narrowed. “Out of your business?” His tone sharpened, slicing through the room. “You ordered pizza. You could’ve just said you wanted food and it would’ve been made for you.”

I glared at him. “So what? Should I really have to inform an old woman to prepare...”

“She’s not just an old woman,” he snapped, cutting me off. “She’s the chief maid here. If you need anything, you ask her.”

I smirked bitterly, folding my arms across my chest. Why was he acting like he cared? Pretending like my comfort mattered to him? We both knew this marriage wasn’t about love. It wasn’t even about us. It was about our parents and their endless, suffocating expectations.

“Mima—”

“Don’t call me that!” The words tore out of me before I could stop them, loud and sharp enough to rattle the silence that followed.

His eyes flickered in surprise, but I didn’t let him speak. “Say my name in full. Jemima. Don’t ever shorten it.”

That name, Mima—it was a reminder to me. Davis used to call me that, sweetly and tenderly. In moments I once thought he loved me. And every time someone said it, the wounds ripped open again.

Khalid’s jaw tightened. His voice dropped lower, edged with irritation. “Whatever, just tell Genny if you need something.”

I scoffed, Genny, the woman was old enough to be his grandmother, yet he called her by her first name as if they were equals, that was so rude of him but it's not my problem.

He turned toward the door, and for a moment I thought he would leave me alone. Relief fluttered in me,but too soon. He stopped in the doorway, hand on the frame, and slowly turned back to face me.

“I was going to ask you one question,” he said.

My brows arched. “What question?”

Was he out of his mind? Or was this about sex? It was our wedding night, after all. If that’s what he wanted, he could’ve just said it out right instead of beating around the bush.

But before I could process it, I realized he was closer, so close enough to make me breathless for a second. Then he stepped closer, his scent wrapped itself around me, filling my nostrils.

He snapped his fingers in front of my face, jolting me back which made me flinch, my gaze dragging up from the line of his chest to the cold steel of his eyes. He was taller, and his presence pressed down on me effortlessly.

“That night,” he said, his voice low, “When I saw you, what really happened to you?”

“I already told you in the hospital,” I said quickly, my words stumbling. “It’s none of your business.”

But he didn’t back away. Step by step, he walked closely to me, until my back hit the wall. My breath caught in my throat. My heart pounded in my chest loudly.

“Khalid, what are you doing?” I whispered, glaring at him even as my voice trembled.