Semua Bab The reluctant vow: Bab 101 - Bab 110

The digital clock on the bedside table glowed in the dark: 1:48 a.m.Sleep had long abandoned Nathan.The room was thick with heat and something heavier—tension. The ceiling fan spun slowly above, creaking with each rotation, stirring the humid air that clung to his skin. The overhead light was off; only the glow of the phone screen and the faint light from a streetlamp outside filtered into the space.Nathan sat at the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, head bent low as he stared down at the phone in his hand—his thumb hovering over Imani’s name.He had called her seven times.Each time, it rang out. No voicemail. No message.She was ignoring him.He exhaled, shaking his head, then pressed the call button again.It rang.And rang.And rang.Call ended.Nathan let out a quiet groan and tossed the phone onto the bed. He stood, pacing the room for what felt like the hundredth time. His apartment, though neat, felt like it was closing in on him—walls pressing inward, the air g

The soft hum of ambient jazz filled the living room—low, deliberate, and rich with undertones, the kind of sound that didn’t just soothe but set a tone. It wasn’t a coincidence. Imani chose everything with purpose, even her background music.She sat perched on the armrest of her deep brown leather sofa, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. A half-filled wine glass swirled lightly between her fingers, the crimson liquid catching the golden lighting overhead like blood under a microscope. Her other hand glided with effortless confidence across her tablet, scanning the final elements of a plan she had curated like a work of art. She wore a sheer silk robe—black, floor-length, and flowing like shadow—that clung in some places and floated in others. It wasn’t meant to tempt. It was armor. A statement. Power tailored into fabric.Tonight wasn’t about seduction. It was about execution.On the glass coffee table before her lay two items, placed with surgical precision: a freshly printed

The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, quiet, too quiet. A quiet that pressed against Regan’s chest like a weight. He stood near the doorway, unsure whether to knock again or just leave. His hand hovered mid-air, clenched in hesitation.Zara had not said a word to him since Imani left the estate. Not a glance. Not a whisper. Not even fury—just… silence. The kind of silence that screamed louder than any argument ever could.The bedroom door was closed, locked from inside. Again.Regan knocked once, gently.“Zara…” His voice was hoarse.No answer.He leaned closer to the door. “Please. I know what it looks like, but I swear to you—I don’t remember anything that night. Imani showed up at the hotel, yes, but I was already too far gone. Drunk beyond recognition. You know how I get. I black out. I can’t even tell if I spoke to her, touched her… or just passed out on the bed.”Still silence.He leaned his forehead against the door. “But with the DNA result… and the fact that it ca

Sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting gentle streaks of gold on the carpeted floor. The room smelled faintly of Kemi’s coconut-scented hair cream and the lavender diffuser Zara had placed near the dresser weeks ago.A soft knock came at the door.Zara stirred from her position on the edge of the bed, already dressed in a simple white top and loose, pale blue trousers. Her back remained straight, face impassive.“Madam Zara,” came the cook’s voice through the door, careful, polite. “Breakfast is ready, ma. Should I bring yours here?”Zara opened the door halfway, her tone firm but not unkind.“Yes, bring it up here. Thank you.”Kemi, still lounging under the covers with a bonnet on her head, turned over and blinked. “Why upstairs? Why don’t we just go downstairs and eat at the dining table like normal human beings?”Zara moved toward the mirror, adjusting a stray curl near her temple. “I don’t want to associate with anybody. Let’s just eat here, please.”Kemi sat

The walls of the room were pale cream, almost too quiet for what lived inside Zara’s chest. The curtains hung limp, untouched by wind, and the once-vibrant suitcase at the corner now looked tired, half-zipped with clothes spilling out like forgotten intentions.Zara sat on the edge of the bed, her back rigid, hands clenched in her lap. Her spine was straight, too straight—like she was holding herself together by force. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders began to cave.The room’s silence was thick, save for the faint hum of the AC unit struggling in the corner.The door creaked open.Kemi stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind her with care. She didn’t say a word. Just crossed the room and sat beside Zara, the mattress dipping gently under her weight.Still, she said nothing.Zara’s fingers toyed with the hem of her nightshirt. She stared at the floor for a long time, the air between them heavy and unmoving. Her voice, when it came, was a whisper—fragile, frayed.