LOGINHe was supposed to hate his ex-wife. Instead, he flirted with her outside the courtroom she was using to destroy him. “If all you wanted was my attention…” Raiyan said behind her, his voice low. “You could’ve just asked.” Zoya kept walking. “Filing a lawsuit feels excessive.” That made her stop. Raiyan came closer, the hint of a smile on his mouth. “Then again, you’ve always preferred making an entrance.” She turned to face him. “Most women just text,” he said. “You declared war.” His eyes dropped to her lips before returning to hers. “Don’t look at me like that. You almost look like you forgot you’re not my wife.” For the first time, something flickered across her face. Raiyan saw it. And pushed. “I remember what you look like when you want me,” he said quietly. “Doesn’t mean I still want you.” That one was meant to hurt. For a second, Zoya said nothing. Then she smiled. The same dangerous little smile that used to ruin his concentration completely. “Mr. Mansoor,” she said sweetly, “for someone whose lawyers spent all day trying to keep my evidence away from the jury…” Her eyes stayed on his. “…you’re remarkably delusional.” Raiyan’s smirk disappeared. “If that’s the story helping you sleep at night,” she said, “I’d hate to be the one to wake you up.” For once, he had nothing. Two and a half years apart. One billion-dollar lawsuit. And apparently neither of them learned how to leave the other alone. THREAD OF GLASS
View MoreRaiyan called at eleven. Evan picked up on the second ring. "So. You are alive," Evan said. "Yes." "I was beginning to wonder," Evan said, dry. "I know." A pause. "Sorry." Evan went quiet a moment, the quiet of a man who'd been waiting for this call and wasn't going to make it difficult now that it had come. "Mei landed safely." "Yeah. She fought a TSA agent over the octopus. Did the octopus survive?" Raiyan let out a low chuckle. "Yeah. It did. Intact." "Good." A pause. "Did Liyana and Riyana like it?" "They love it," Raiyan said. The line held a warm quiet, the kind two people could sit in without it costing them anything. "Thank you," Evan said. "For sending the car. For taking care of her." "She takes care of herself," Raiyan said. "Yes," Evan said. "But still." "I am not coming back," Raiyan said. "To London. Not yet." He looked at the ceiling of his room. "I cannot leave without both of them. I will not do it." "Both," Evan said. "Riyana is here." He said it simp
He looked at Riyana, already drifting into the light sleep of a child who had used every bit of energy she had. Then he looked at Joseph. "I should go," he said, quiet. Joseph nodded. "You know you don't need a reason to come here to see your daughter, Raiyan." He looked at him. "I know. Thank you, Grandpa." Joseph walked him to the door while Mei stayed in the garden with Riyana. They stood there a moment. "You two grew up without parents," Joseph said. "You know exactly what that costs." Raiyan had no answer. Joseph looked at him a moment longer. "Come back soon. She should know her father's face before she knows his name. Bring Liyana." Raiyan looked toward the garden, where Riyana was still dozing against Mei's shoulder, Mei talking quietly to her about something that required both hands to explain. He thought of Liyana asleep down the hall at the manor. Two daughters. Two different beginnings. One father. He had already lost enough time. "I will," he said,
He looked at the garden and thought about the custody filing he'd opened and looked at and closed without sending. He'd told himself it was because he didn't want to hurt her. That was true. But underneath that truth was another one he'd been less willing to examine.He had packed Liyana's things. He had looked at a flight to London. He had called it protecting everyone.And he had almost left his other daughter behind.He had spent two and a half years being Liyana's father in every way that mattered. The fever at three in the morning. The first words. The scraped knees. The mornings when she climbed into his bed because the night had gone on long enough.Riyana had none of that. She had a father she called Uncle. And when she'd seen him from the window, she'd run to him anyway.He couldn't undo the lost time. But he could stop creating more of it.He was not that man. He had never wanted to be that man. And yet.He heard the door, small feet on the path, fast.He turned.She was alr
The drive to Joseph’s took forty minutes. Mei spent thirty seven of them asking questions. “Okay, first question, and it’s important.” Mei twisted in her seat to face him fully. “How does she look. Does she look like a hot sexy badass lawyer, or does she look like a mom of two toddlers?” “Mei,” he said, warning in it. “Okay. Has she changed?” Mei pressed. Raiyan kept his eyes on the road. “In what way?” “Does she still do the thing where she goes completely quiet when she is thinking about something serious. Not quiet quiet. Specific quiet. Where you can tell she has already made a decision but she is giving you time to catch up.” He said nothing for a moment. “Yes.” Mei went quiet for almost forty seconds, a record for her, both hands suddenly very interested in the hem of her jacket. Then, small, “What if she is not the same.” He glanced at her. She was looking at her hands, the chaotic energy temporarily replaced by something underneath it, the real thing, the nervous thing
Zoya finally turned, her glare locked and loaded. But the retort died in her throat. He looked exhausted. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and his frame looked leaner under his suit. But the way he was looking at the dinner—and then at her—was so raw it made her ch
Joseph answered on the second ring. He didn’t say hello. In their world, a greeting was a wasted breath, especially between two men bound by the same ghost.“Omar.”Omar’s voice was steady, but it wasn’t calm. It was the kind of stillness that happens right before a storm levels a ci
Zoya’s mouth opened.Nothing came out.Not because she didn’t have an answer — she did. It was there, sharp and ready, something she could throw at him and end the conversation cleanly. But she refused to let him see how much the question had landed. He was too close. Close enough that his shadow c
Zoya woke up choking on the same air. The same room. The same slam in her head. Her fingers clenched the sheet so hard her nails hurt, and she still felt his grip on the neckline of her gown even though she was wearing soft lounge fabric now, even though Oxford was quiet, even though the nightmare


















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