All Chapters of The reluctant vow: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The morning sun seeped through the linen drapes, casting long, golden stripes across the room’s muted palette. It was quiet — the kind of quiet that made every heartbeat sound louder, every breath feel like a confession.Zara sat at the edge of the bed, her robe loosely gathered at her waist, shoulders bare to the coolness of the morning air. Her legs were drawn close, toes curling into the softness of the rug beneath her feet. In her hand, her phone glowed faintly — the screen still open on that one email.$10,000 Modeling Campaign – M&E Aesthetics.She blinked slowly, reading it again.And then again.Each time, the words seemed more surreal. Her thumb hovered over the details — shoot dates, location, wardrobe fittings, travel arrangements. It was all there. Neatly outlined. Professionally packaged. Everything she used to pray for when the walls of her old bedroom felt too small for her dreams.Her bottom lip quivered slightly.With a shaking hand, she pressed the phone to her chest

The argument downstairs had been brief — clipped words, angry breaths, silences that spoke louder than the shouting ever could.Zara didn’t wait for him to follow. She climbed the stairs two at a time, fists clenched at her sides, the sting behind her eyes growing sharper with every step. The moment she entered the bedroom, she locked the door behind her with trembling fingers.The quiet inside was suffocating.She stood there for a while, her back against the door, the walls closing in. The room felt too neat, too still. The bed was made, the curtains drawn halfway, their wedding photo still propped on the dresser — a lie preserved in glass.She slid to the floor and pressed her palms to her face, trying to push the tears back. She failed.They came hot and bitter, sliding down her cheeks in silence. Not the tears of weakness — but the kind that came from the slow erosion of dreams. The kind that burned.This offer was supposed to be a victory.A breakthrough. A symbol that she hadn’

The airport buzzed with low hums and intercom announcements. Families hugged tightly, lovers whispered last words, and solo travelers dragged their suitcases with the weight of promises only they understood.Zara leaned against a pillar in the departure lounge, arms crossed, watching Chantel adjust the strap of her handbag for the hundredth time. Kemi stood nearby, chewing on a stick of gum and scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing up.“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay until the plane takes off?” Kemi asked, trying to sound casual, though her voice cracked just a little.Chantel gave a warm smile. “No, you’ve done enough. I’m not dying, just flying. I’ll call the second I land.”Zara tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.She stepped forward and hugged her friend tightly — longer than necessary.“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled in Chantel’s shoulder. “For reminding me who I am.”Chantel squeezed her back just as fiercely. “Don’t you dare fo

Setting: Evening. The Ajayi family home. A pristine, overly curated house where everything is in place, but nothing feels lived in. The walls are lined with gold-trimmed photo frames — most of Imani in various pageants and social events — a shrine to a perfectly manufactured life. The smell of lavender polish and stale silence lingers in the air. Imani steps in, gently shutting the door behind her. She’s dressed in an elegant maternity gown, her makeup perfect, but her eyes are heavy with frustration. A hospital file peeks out of her handbag — she’s just come from a routine prenatal checkup. No complications, but the sterile white walls and whispers of waiting mothers had rattled her nerves. She isn’t used to waiting. Or being one among many. Her heels click lightly on the marble as she walks into the sitting room. Her mother, Mrs. Ajayi, is seated like a queen in her usual spot — an ivory velvet armchair by the window. A gold-edged magazine is splayed on her lap, open to a fashion c

The silence in the house was unsettling.Not the comforting kind of quiet that lulls one into sleep. No. This was the heavy, suffocating silence that clung to the walls like shadows—thick, watchful, and unnatural.Zara lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her blanket bunched at her waist. The events of the day replayed in her mind like a haunting reel: the withdrawn modeling deal, the headlines splashed with her name and Imani’s, the whispers she imagined behind every screen.Her dreams were supposed to begin this week. Instead, they had unraveled before they even had a chance.Restless, she pushed the blanket aside and slipped out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold marble floor. She moved quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake Regan. The house was too big, too dark, and tonight, too quiet.She entered the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. The faint hum of the fridge was the only sound. She took a sip, trying to steady her breath.That’s when her phone, left facedo