Semua Bab She, His Enigma: Bab 61 - Bab 70

“We can talk… if there’s anything Iden asked again.” “No,” she said quickly, forcing a smile as she bit into her omelette. “It’s nothing.” Her tone was sweet—almost too sweet—and her eyes didn’t meet his for long. Iden studied her, but nodded silently, choosing not to push further. He leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. “Not bad, Ellaya. You can cook now.” She smiled faintly at his compliment, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The truth was, she had learned—quietly, patiently, in silence and solitude. She had learned to survive. But Iden kept watching her, his gaze deep and searching, like he was trying to dig answers out of her soul. She knew he had sensed her unease since last week, ever since her mother called about Eva. That call had reopened a door she had kept locked for months. She had ignored most of their calls since marrying Iden—out of guilt, obligation, or fear, she couldn’t say. But Eva’s name had changed something. She had tried calling back.

It was a scorching day when Ellaya stepped out of her house, shielding herself with a wide cream umbrella. The sun bore down relentlessly, its heat wrapping around her like an unwanted embrace. Dressed in beige wide-leg, high-waist pants and a matching crop top, she looked effortlessly elegant despite the oppressive humidity. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead as she wiped it with the back of her hand and made her way toward the bus stop, her sandals clicking softly against the pavement. Today marked her first time traveling alone on public transport. Her heart thudded beneath her ribcage—not out of fear, but the unfamiliarity of independence. “You can do it, Ellaya,” she whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the buzz of cicadas and the distant hum of traffic. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the bus, gripping the handrail for balance. The air inside was stifling, carrying the mingled scent of old leather seats and sweat, but she found a seat by the window an

Ellaya’s heart thundered in her chest, every beat reverberating like a warning bell as her mother’s voice rang in her ears—sharp, thunderous, unforgiving. > “Ella, stop deceiving yourself.” The words cracked like lightning. > “I still remember how the doctor recoiled in fear when you were born—almost dropped you. Even as your mother, I couldn’t look at you for months. I cried day and night, wondering what I had given birth to. Something inhuman. But since you were our only child, your father and I… we had no choice but to accept you. Tell me, what do you think others will do? The world is full of beautiful women. Why would anyone ever choose you, Ellaya—unless they had some hidden motive?” Her voice was colder than winter wind—merciless, slicing through Ellaya’s very soul. Mrs. Stone’s eyes were steel, her words a blade. “You’re different. Ugly. Frightening. Look at yourself.” She seized Ellaya by the arms and spun her to face the mirror. Ellaya's body sagged. Her knees weakened

Iden moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, the rhythmic sound of his knife tapping against the cutting board the only thing breaking the silence. Ellaya sat perched on the edge of the kitchen island, legs tucked beneath her, eyes locked onto him. She watched the way his fingers gripped the knife—precise, strong, graceful. Even in worn sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, he carried a quiet magnetism that could make strangers stop and stare. And here she was, his wife, wondering for the hundredth time why a man like Iden chose her when he could’ve had anyone. Her mother’s cruel voice echoed through her mind. "He’ll get tired of you. One day, he’ll leave, just like the rest." That single sentence, thrown like a blade during their last phone call, burrowed deep into her thoughts. It didn’t matter how many times Iden held her, kissed her, loved her—those words always found a way to crawl back in and poison the quiet. She smiled, faint and hollow, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Iden held her trembling form, her sobs muffled against his chest, echoing in the stillness of the room like fragile glass cracking under pressure. “Why?” she whimpered, voice barely a breath. “Why did you do this to me?” Her fingers clung to his shirt, her tears soaking through the fabric, staining him with her heartbreak. “Iden…” Her voice cracked as she looked up at him, eyes red, pleading. “Why did you marry her?” He stood frozen, her pain laid bare before him, raw and unfiltered. She collapsed against him again, broken, desperate. “Divorce her… come back to me… I can’t live without you.” The word divorce hit him like a slap across the face. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, creating a careful distance between them. His eyes softened, but his jaw was tense. He reached out, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of his knuckle, then smoothed her hair with a tender, practiced touch. “Anna,” he murmured, his voice gentle but strained, “stop crying. You know why I ma